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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Meet the Welches"  Caleb looks up at you from under his eyebrows. "This dude's cheating on you?" he says. "Seriously?" "On Shannon? Yeah, pretty sure. They're not sleeping together anymore, and Stephan—" You bite your lip before you can add Was always pretty highly sexed, which is not a revelation likely to trigger any sympathy from your friend. Instead, you close with, "And Stephan's always been a huge flirt." "Well, I guess I can confirm whatever's going on," Caleb says, "after I'm—" "It doesn't matter. Just don't fuck anything up for us after you're in his mask." Caleb gives you a wry look. * * * * * He goes upstairs to the master bedroom to disrobe and remove the "Will Prescott" mask, leaving you downstairs with the unconscious Stephan Welch. You wince as you look at him. He's still in fine shape, and part of Shannon remembers what it was like to be embraced, cuddled, kissed, petted, mauled, and impaled by him. He wasn't a beast, but even when being gentle, Stephan was so strong that sometimes his lovemaking was like being gently crushed by an avalanche. Though his body was never sculpted, and it is softening now that he's in his early thirties, he has a barrel chest, veiled abs, and tree-trunk legs. His arms are meaty as well. The only really unappetizing thing is the hair that covers him. He's not a wolfman, but he's got a serious rug across his pecs, and hairy calves and forearms. The top of his back, too, would be hairy except that he shaves it. He's got a thick beard as well, and his five o'clock shadow is already showing. You rouse yourself and hustle upstairs to the bedroom, where Caleb, undressed and restored to his natural face, is sprawled atop the bed. You take your clothes and the mask of yourself downstairs. The new mask materializes on Stephan's face while you're still sealing up your own mask with the golem-making paste. So I guess this is it for Caleb pretending to be me, you reflect as you burn a bit of your hair into it. Anyone who puts this mask on now is just going to turn into one of those slave things. That's actually something of a relief. Once you've got the mask finished, you gently lift the mask off Stephan's face and place the other mask there. Your heart briefly leaps into your throat as Stephan Welch vanishes and Will Prescott appears. His eyes snap open, and he half sits up to give you first a puzzled glance, and then a shocked one. "Oh, Jesus, boss!" he gasps. "What are you looking at me like that for?" "How am I looking at you?" you demand, feeling shocked in turn. He shakes his head, then makes a face. "Well, I guess this is all kinds of ... freaky," he mutters. His glance turns suspicious. "Are we still going to be working together?" "I ... don't know." "Because the way you and—" He licks his lips. "You and me were talking, about ... me ... turning into your husband—" He breaks off to look furtively around. "That was Caleb I was talking to," you remind him. "He was just ... wearing the mask." Will's expression turns uneasy, and he mutters something that sounds like, "wearing me like a freaking skinsuit." Then his eyes fall upon his clothes, which are bunched up on the coffee table. "Can I get dressed now?" he asks with a whine in his voice. "Please," you reply. "Get dressed and go home. But come look for me tomorrow at school during—" You mentally try to review your schedule, but you're too frantic to think clearly. "When it's convenient." "Uh huh," he says as he scrambles for his things. "Third period it is," he adds, and you roll your eyes. * * * * * Caleb was awake by the time you got Will sent off and Stephan's mask ready to wear. (Sealed, but you didn't put any of the golem-paste into it.) He takes it quietly and doesn't waste time with it, for when you glance back at him from the doorway, the naked body of Stephan Welch is splayed unconsciously on the bed. You go down to the kitchen, where you contemplate eating the meatloaf that is warming in the oven. But you haven't much of an appetite, and content yourself with a double-glass of white wine. You're staring off into space, your mind a gauzy blank of worried indecision, when you hear a heavy tread coming down the stairs. You tense against the coming of your husband. He looks big—a mass of muscle slowly morphing into a dad bod—as he steps around the corner with a slight frown on his face. He's dressed again in the gray sweatshirt and navy-blue track pants, but he's barefoot and his hair is a little disordered. His eyes seem to wobble behind the round frames of his glasses. "Hey," he says, his tone uncertain. "Hey yourself." You take a deep swallow from your wine glass. "So how is it?" He flexes his hands as he studies them, and sways a little on his feet. "Body feels ... fine," he says. "Memories not so much." "What's wrong?" "I don't got 'em." His jaw works, and he glowers at you from under his heavy brow. "You fuck up the mask, man?" "You're the one who made it," you retort. "You're the one who put it on this guy, and fixed it up." "Well, I don't know," you snap back. "Maybe we should take it off you and—" "What's wrong with you?" he growls. His face turns red. "You're acting like a ... a passive-aggressive bitch." The words are like a stinging welt across your face, and you catch your breath. I ... am being a bitch, you realize. You focus on Stephan, and realize why that is. I'm acting like a bitch because I'm looking at this son of a bitch, and I can't help myself. But you can, because you're not really Shannon Welch, and you force yourself to relax. "Sorry," you mumble. "Force of habit. Her and her ... husband, they don't really get along that good." "Really," Stephan says. "Is that how come he's having an affair?" Though he doesn't really sound like Stephan—cool, condescending, a little smirky—you can't help hearing Stephan's usual tone. "I guess so." You look down into your wine glass. You start to take another gulp, but instead set it down on the countertop with a very audible clink. "I think it's gotten where he just rubs his wife the wrong way, and she can't help—" You wince. "Well, maybe it's a good thing I don't got his memories then," Stephan says. "So I don't know how to act like him." "You're gonna have to learn if you're gonna go in to the university tomorrow and teach Econ." He snorts lightly, then catches himself. "You know," he says, "we had this problem before. Yeah!" He snaps his fingers. "Remember when you were showing me this stuff, and I put on that mask of you? By the way—" He looks around with a vague expression on his face. "Where's, uh, Will?" "Sent him home. You were saying?" "Yeah, first time I put your mask on, I couldn't get the memories. I remember it was after I, uh, moved in to cover for you full time that I got them. I think I had to sleep in it, or something." "Well, we can try that," you say. "Otherwise, we'll have to figure out something else." He gets kind of a cagey look, and not so furtively looks you up and down. "Well, what am I going to remember after I remember what this cocksucker knows?" "I guess you'll remember everything about him," you flatly answer. "And everything about us. You know," you add, "if you want to at least try getting into character, he was watching ESPN when I came in." He makes a face, and pads back into the living room. * * * * * You put the meatloaf into the refrigerator and content yourself with a slice of grapefruit and some cottage cheese—eating them over the sink as the chatter and bustle of the TV spills out of the living room—then go upstairs to Shannon's office where you polish off the little afterschool work you brought with you. (That would be tracking and recording assignments for the students that Shannon tutors.) Then you peel off your office clothes and change into flannel shorts and a sweatshirt of your own. After a moment's consideration, you also peel off your bra and let your breasts dangle freely. It's like taking off a suit of armor. You sit on the bed and let all the stress and strain drain off, rubbing it away by stroking your calves. Oh my God, you groan. Why do I do this to myself? I'm all uptight and scared. But what am I scared off? You bite your lip. The future, you have to admit. A future that is just ... this ... day after day, month after month, year after year. Marching into the office to tutor the same lessons to the same kids, and coming home to a cold husband who's no longer interested in me. And that's if I'm lucky! If Stephan ever leaves me— A shudder runs through you, and you push yourself upright. You've tensed up and stressed yourself out again. I'm not Shannon Welch, you remind yourself. I'm just pretending to be her for a little while. But look how easy it is to fall back into her moods and persona! Don't let that happen, you growl to yourself, even as you recognize that that's the kind of advice that Shannon would give herself. Do things different, Will, you tell yourself. Don't act like her when you're not out in public. Do the opposite when you're at home. But what does "Doing the opposite" mean when Stephan comes up a few hours later to bed? Next: "A Change of Routine" |
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