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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "An Intersection of Interests"  After Jack splits for his locker, you ask Reagan about him. She gives you a quizzical look. "You don't know Jack?" "He's in my history class, but I just moved to town," you remind her. "So I don't know him." She tosses her head. "Well, you should know who he is at least. We'll get together with him sometime. He's totally worth knowing." "How come?" Her lips twitch, and she leans in close. "Because he knows everything that goes on at school." A gleeful grin spreads across her face. "Really?" You can't help arching your eyebrows skeptically. Reagan rolls her eyes and assures you that anything Jack Li doesn't know about isn't worth knowing. "It's too bad he doesn't spill about any of it," she adds. Then what's the point of getting to know him? you almost ask. But instead you just nod, and make a private note to talk to Jack third period. * * * * * "He's going to meet us up at my house tomorrow after school," you inform Will after school. You're still hot and blown from gymnastics, and you slouch in the passenger seat of his truck with your bright white tennies propped up on the console. "House'll be empty, so we won't have any trouble getting a mask on him." Will only returns you a sidelong look. He's been mulishly silent all afternoon, offering no comment or question about your plan to turn Jack Li into a catspaw. With a twinge you wonder if he's jealous. Though of what? You can't imagine yourself being jealous of Jack Li. But he's not you, he's just a copy of you, a pedisequos. So is he jealous that you're making another one of those things? Can one pedisequos be jealous of another? Suddenly, as you're staring at the side of his unshaven face, a wave of tenderness washes over you. Your fingers flex, and almost you throw yourself at him, to squeeze and rub his thigh, to put your nose and lips into the crook of his neck, to press upon him how much you love him, how devoted you are to him, how he is the pole star of your existence. That surge of passion is followed by an equally sudden fright. But that's me over there! you squeal to yourself. Making out with myself? Eww! But the desire still burns, and an itch—like being touched with a smoldering match—flares between your legs You tear your eyes off Will. This isn't me feeling this way, you tell yourself. I'm not hot for myself. Am I? No, this is Sydney, it's her and her instincts. She's the one who— Then it hits you like a hammer stroke. You are the pole star of my existence, you almost blurted out to Will Prescott. Sydney had a thing for you. A really—really— serious thing for you. And look what you did to her. "Let's hit the greenhouse first," you tell Will as you try to thrust the churning horror behind you. You tug the shopping list from your jeans pocket and flatten it across your knee. "Then the art supply store, and the—" You break off before you can lose your shit entirely. The tears are starting to well up behind your eyes, and you have to touch your nose to stop the sniffles. "Hey, is something wrong?" Will asks. You glance over to find him looking at you. He's such a puppy, you think. So sweet and adorable. And he likes me so much and he can't believe he's with me. But I'm the one who can't believe I'm with him. He's so sweet and he's so generous— You jam the heels of your hands into your eyes. Except I'm not sweet. Because look what I did to Sydney. I couldn't believe she was for real. And now she isn't for real anymore. "I'm just being silly and emotional," you reply, and suck back the tears with a hard gulp. "I"ll be okay when we get out to the place. I'll have to be if I'm going to go in with you." "You don't have to go in." "I want to. Else I'll just wind up sitting in the parking lot being stupidly emotional." You gulp again. Then you smile at him through the tears, and pat his thigh. Again, like a slap, strikes the urge to pull off his pants and stroke him all over. * * * * * It takes all afternoon out at the old elementary school—as you anticipated—to fashion a mask to use on Jack. Will works the buffer while you carve runes into a metal band, and when he's done he sits back with his cell phone to silently cruise the internet. You'd like to fuss at him for kindof-sortof-mostly ignoring you. But you'd prefer to concentrate on the brain thing anyway. If you spared him any more attention, you might wind up getting physical with him. And that would just be too weird in too many ways. The next day—a Friday—you remind Jack that he's coming out to your place after school to talk in a general way about planning a party. He assures you he hasn't forgotten. And, even better, he flatters you by coming into the Gym Annex after last bell to languidly watch you and the other girls do gymnastics. You blush with pleasure under his smile. But Deanna Showalter beats you over to the sidelines to gush at him after Coach Coles has called an end to practice. "Oh my God, Jack, what are you doing here?" "I came out to watch and feel jealous." "You used to do gymnastics too! I remember back in middle school—" Deanna does a double-take as you join them. "We all thought you were going to state," she concludes, but there's an uncertain note in her voice as she looks between you and Jack. "Hey, just let me get cleaned up and we'll go," you tell him. You pat your neck with a towel. "You mind following me and Will out to my place?" "You could give me the address anyway," he says. You nod and turn toward the changing room. Deanna resumes chattering at Jack, but you can hear the edge in her voice. She's going to try to invite herself along, you think with gritted teeth. But she's gone by the time you join Jack again. "So Will doesn't come here to watch you?" he asks as he strides along beside you to the door. "He doesn't know he can. Besides, he uses the time when he's waiting for me to do his homework in the library." "Huh," Jack says. You wonder what he means by that grunt, but refrain from asking. You part in the parking lot, and you watch as Jack strolls over to a cherry-red minivan. He's built pretty nice, you can't help noticing, and he has great legs. He's pretty tall, too—you could barely touch his shoulder with your nose. "That's him in the minivan," you tell Will after joining him in the truck. Then: "You got the mask out and stuff here?" "Yeah." Will pats his bag. "Good." You study the minivan out the back window of the truck. "We won't bother taking him inside. We'll do it in the driveway when we get there, right in his car." "You're the boss." You give the pedisequos a quick, sharp look. He's being quiet again, and there's a hardness about the eyes. Again, you have that darting suspicion that he's acting jealous. But this time, with the scent of prey in your nostrils, you keep your emotions under control. * * * * * Jack Li has just enough time to look surprised before his eyes go out of focus and his jaw goes slack. He slumps sideways in the driver's seat, and you rush around to the passenger-side door; once inside the cabin, you push him upright behind the wheel. The side door slides open, and Will climbs in. "So," he says as he wedges himself between the two front seats and studies the side of Jack's head. "This is our first recruit, huh? First brother in our temple thing?" "I don't know," you confess. "Maybe." "Then how come we're making a mask of him if he's not—?" "Because right I need someone to help me look around. Reagan says he knows, like, everyone at school." "He doesn't know me." "You don't know anybody," you retort. "There's a pretty good chance he knows you, though." You nibble a thumbnail while studying Jack's face. Will shrugs. And you're too preoccupied to say anything yourself. Because last night Nicholas quietly asked you into his study for a conference. With the door closed, and in a hushed voice, he told you he had been out to the Warehouse to look around. In one of the sub-basements he found a focal point for the ley line that runs alongside the railroad tracks, but when he performed a Rite of Opening over it, nothing happened. It would be a bitch and a half if it turned out that the pedisequoses are incapable of performing any of the rites. Especially if—as you were planning—you make five of them for a Temporal Court of your own before trying any of the rites. "Are you going to turn yourself into him after you make the mask?" Will asks after several minutes of silence. "I don't know. Probably. But you can hang out with us." Will winces. You grasp him by the arm. "I didn't mean it to sound like that, sweetie," you tell him, then flinch at the easy way the endearment slipped out. "I mean, we're all going to be on the same team, at least. But it's always going to be a special thing between you and me, you know. Because," you hurriedly add after he turns his head fractionally toward you, "you and me, we're basically the same person. Right?" The pedisequos grunts. And because, you add to yourself, though the thought is like strychnine, Sydney wanted a special thing between her and you. Next: "Jack of All Trades" |
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