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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "If You Were Only Someone Else"  Kim Walsh is a small slip of a girl, so you weren't ready to discover just how heavy a person could be. Her knees buckle and she folds up in your arm, dragging you down, and bonelessly sprawling atop you when you hit the floor. "Oh, Jesus!" Chelsea squeals, and she springs over to slam the door shut. You scramble out from under Kim, your breath coming in quick gulps as you fight to push your heart back down inside your chest. "My God, boss, you didn't even give me a chance to get her over to the chair!" "Yeah, well, I just decided to go in." Your eye bulge as you stare at Kim, who lies in a twisted pile of limbs. She's so twisted up in fact that you worry her back and neck are broken. She seems to be hale and whole, though, when you untangle and straighten her out on the floor. She's a dead weight, so you leave her there instead of moving her onto the bed. You wipe your sweaty face as you try to figure out what comes next. You're copying Kim, and when the mask comes out you'll have to seal it up. But you'll also have to make a mask of yourself, and—God damn it!—that's the one thing you forgot to get done ahead of time. "Need me to get you a glass of water, boss?" Chelsea asks. "Some aspirin, maybe?" "No, I'll be fine. I just—" You sink onto Chelsea's bed and stare down at Kim. It'll take, like, ten minutes for the mask to copy Kim, and about as long for a mask to copy you. You'll be knocked out all that time, and so will Kim. If you start on that mask of yourself right away, there's a chance that you and Kim will wake back up at about the same time. That's not good enough, because you will still have to seal up her mask and coat it with that special paste and burn some of your hair into it and— Maybe you could get Chelsea to wake you up early. She could slap you awake. But it's a magical sleep, and if that didn't work— * * * * * In the end, you decide to wait until Kim's mask is finished, and then you'll seal it up and finish it and put it onto her. Once you've got the doppelganger in place, you'll have all the time you need for the rest of the transformation. So, a quarter-hour later: "Listen to me," you quietly and careful order the red-haired girl who is standing before you with a puzzled expression. "You have to do what I say. I'm your boss, and you have to obey me." "I know that," she says, and her frown deepens. "Except—" "What's your name?" "Kim," she answers. "Kim Walsh." Her puzzlement seems to deepen. "That's right. Except you're not really Kim. Kim is gone." You're not sure why you're giving her the same kind of instructions as you gave Chelsea, but you figure that if it worked with Chelsea then you should keep a winning thing going. "You're Kim now." "Kim is gone?" The girl looks alarmed. "Yes, she's ... someplace. You've taken her place. Come here." You pull her into Chelsea's bathroom and position her directly in front of the sink. "Look at your face," you tell her as you clasp her from behind, staring over her shoulder in the mirror. "That's Kim's face. You look just like Kim. So you're replacing her, and you'll do everything she does, but you'll also do everything I order you to. Can you act like her? Do you know where she lives?" "Yes," Kim says. But she's concentrating on her reflection, and lifts her hands to gingerly touch her cheeks. "I look just like her," she murmurs. "And you can act just like her, can't you?" "I—" She sucks in a breath. "Yes, I think I can." "You're a doppelganger, a clone, a dupl— a duplitron. So is Chelsea." Kim gives you a sharp look. "That's right. She's a duplicate I made, just like I made you. You both have to do what I say. We're making more duplicates, Kim. We're going to replace more people at school, with duplicates. Lots more people." Kim's eyes go wide, and she turns to look up into your face. "And you want to help." Kim stares at you a moment, then turns back to stare at the girl in the mirror. She strokes her own throat. "Yes," she says. "I understand. Make more duplicates. More ... things ... like Chelsea. And me." "That's right. You get it now." You squeeze her while looking into her reflection. "And you'll follow my orders, my plan." "Who do we start with?" The doubt and confusion have fallen from Kim's face. "We started with you. Bring me my backpack from out there." You gently propel her toward the door. "I have to get ready for the next part." * * * * * That next part is tedious and a little excruciating because of the hoops you have to go through. You start by locking yourself in the bathroom, stretching out on the floor, and putting a blank mask to your face. You wake some time later, groggy and claustrophobic on account of the mask weighing on your face and suffocating you. Next comes sealing its inner surface twice, then burning a little of your hair into it. The next step is a little better: you unlock the door and summon Kim to join you inside, where you order her to strip off all her clothes. You half expect her to blanch and get embarrassed, but she coolly complies without a murmur. Another little surprise is to find out what exactly she's wearing. What you thought was a black t-shirt turns out to be a full-body leotard she was wearing under her Levis and the loose, unbuttoned blouse. Once it's all off, she stands before you as a skinny girl with small breasts and translucent skin that blushes a pale blue beneath. You direct her to lay on the floor, and she watches you with grave eyes as you grasp her temple and pull while muttering the words prescribed by the book. You feel something tear beneath your palm, and then you are holding a mask. You set it on the floor beside the now-sleeping Kim. And now comes the part you've been quietly dreading. You pluck the other mask off the sink, and lay it gently onto Kim's face. The change is so fast that it's done before you even know what to watch for. Where Kim Walsh had lain, there is now stretched out a skinny, hairy boy with your face. His eyes open, and pop in a double-take when he sees you. He seems to catch his breath, and he swallows. "Whoa," he murmurs. "Tell me your name." His eyebrows arch just the tiniest bit. "Will Prescott," he says. "At least," he adds, "that's what I want to say. But I guess I'm, um—" He gets a shifty look. "I guess I'm a doppelganger." You feel some relief, and help him up, though his hand in yours is loathsome, somehow. Once he's on his feet, you look sidelong at each other, and you know that his wary expression is the mirror of yours. "What are you going to do?" you ask him. "Whatever you tell me to, boss." "What's the plan?" His eyes dart, but his mouth curls up into a slight grin. "Make more things like me. Make us— Make you the boss of the school." You pull your ball cap off and hand it to him. "Start getting dressed," you tell him as you kick off your shoes. * * * * * You send him out to join Chelsea, then turn to the disassembled bits and pieces of Kim Walsh: her mask, her clothes, and her shoes. You fold them up into a neat pile and study them. A shiver rattles your frame, and it doesn't stop, leaving you shivering. You pick up the mask and study the inner surface. A name, composed of glowing blue letters, floats there just above the surface: KIMBERLEY SUSAN WALSH. You run your fingertips across the mask. That's going to be me, you think with a delicious shudder of anticipation. With a jerk of your limbs, you wheel and clamber into the cold bath tub, stretching out and settling in. You hold the mask over your face with both hands, and slowly lower it onto your face, closing your eyes and holding your breath as it settles there. Your body goes very stiff, as though paralyzed, and then the mask grows very heavy. It stifles you and presses on you until the front of your head caves in like an eggshell, and you feel it squeezing your brain into jelly ... And then you're awake. More than awake, you're alert. You lay very still, darting your eyes about. You're in a bathtub, laid out like a corpse in a sarcophagus. At first you feel nothing below the neck, and your limbs are numb. But you've only to will yourself to lift your hand, and all at once you are sitting up and levering yourself from the tub. You feel a slight curiosity about your situation—this is Chelsea Cooper's bathroom, you know, and you are naked—but you feel no fear. You will remember in a minute (you are sure) what's going on. Or someone will come in and tell you. You position yourself before the sink, studying yourself in the mirror. The expression on your pale face is very serious, and your hair trails limply in ringlets past your shoulders. You are very slim and your skin is so pale and translucent that there's a blue sheen beneath it. Your name is Kim Walsh, and— A slow grin creases your face. You are not Kim Walsh. You are her double. A duplicate, created to replace her. And you are more than that. You are the master of the magic that creates duplicates, and this face and body are just a shell you have inhabited as part of your plan. You pluck up the brassiere that lays atop the vanity near at hand. It's time to complete your disguise. Next: "The Manager" |
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