The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

Don't Mind Me

Previously: "Pulp Friction" 

It's a crazy idea—trapping Chelsea Cooper in Dane Matthias's mask, the way you've trapped Dane inside Gordon Black's, and Gordon inside a mask of you.

In fact, it's so crazy that—

You shy away from finishing the cliche.

It's a great idea, you insist to yourself, and thrust behind you the erupting visions of all the ways it could go wrong.

* * * * *

You're so taken by the idea that you pay hardly any attention to your date with Eva. Maybe it goes well and maybe it doesn't. Mostly you just talk like friends, about school and interests and mutual acquaintances and gossip. Eva doesn't seem too put out with you at the end of it, but you're too absorbed with the fantasy of doing away with Chelsea Cooper—the bitch who got you into this mess—to give much thought to anything else.

Still, though it was a pleasant time, it's with a sense of relief and anticipation that you hop into the car and race away from the restaurant to find Caleb.

* * * * *

"There you are!" he exclaims when you burst through the basement door. "The fuck has been keeping you?"

"I've been looking all over for you!" you retort. "I went by your house but— The fuck are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Work. I'da called you, but you have my phone. You can give it back now. Oh, and get out of that mask! We've got a test to make."

"What kind of test?"

He picks up one of those metal strips from the table and hands it to you.

Blue letters seem to float above its gleaming surface: CALEB JACOB JOHANSSON. You blink a couple of times at it, and turn it over and over in your hand.

"Dude," you exclaim. "How'd you get it to do this?"

"It's the spell," Caleb retorts. "This is what it made."

"So what does it do? Did you use it to turn the page in the book?"

"Naturally." His expression is smug, then turns a little guarded. "There's just one sentence on the other side. It translates as 'To know the mind of another'."

You stare at him. "You mean, like, mind-reading?"

"Or mind copying. Think about it," he says, and rubs his hands together. "The masks only copy the body. But if you really wanted to impersonate someone you'd have to know their mind as well!"

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, fuck me, I coulda told you that. You know, my whole freaking week woulda been about ten times easier if— Aw, Christ!" You punch the side of a nearby bookcase. "Why couldn't we have waited until we had this spell cracked before we started fucking around?"

"The fuck is your problem?" Caleb demands. "Did something happen on that date? No, never mind!" He shuts his eyes. "Let's just get this thing tested."

"Tested?"

"Sure." His eyes pop open again. "We gotta figure out if it works. If it actually does what I think it does."

"You mean you're not sure?"

"I was just spitballing! Jesus! So, you just lay out there—" He indicates the big conference table where you've been doing most of your magical work. "And I'll put the doohickey on you."

"On me?" you exclaim. "Why do I gotta be the guinea pig all the time?"

"I'm the fucking guinea pig here, Prescott!" Caleb barks. "If this thing works like I think it does, it'll give you access to my mind and everything in it!"

"Yeesh!" You shiver elaborately all over.

"Just get on the table, dorkface," Caleb coldly orders. You grimace back, but comply. "I'm gonna take the mask off you first," he says as he leans over you.

"How come?"

"Shut up, that's how come." He seizes you by the face with one hand and pulls.

* * * * *

You emerge from an acrid blackness with a groan. You sit up on your elbows and blink stupidly at Caleb, who is standing near you, watching you carefully. "Okay, Gandalf," you sigh. "Are you ready now with that thingamafuck?"

His brow crinkles. "I already put it on you, man. Don't you—?"

You gasp, then lunge for him, but yank your hand back at the last minute.

Then you blink. Hard.

Yes, you pulled your hand back, but it was like a reflex, like when you pull away from a hot surface. A little thought is blinking in the back of your head: Dude, this is too weird.

As you stare at Caleb, that sense of weirdness grows. Your skin crawls, for you've the extremely vivid impression that you're standing in the wrong place. It's like—

It's like when you catch sight of yourself on the monitor of a security monitor. That's me, you think. Wave your hand, and watch the figure on the screen wave too.

Your friend's expression is growing alarmed in a way probably proportional to your own.

A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you hunch over with your head in your hands. A tremble passes through you, and your gorge rises. A presence is coming, a cold and clammy presence. It's behind you, but you don't turn, for with a shudder you feel it in the back of your head. It spreads over your scalp and down the back of your neck and spine and through your limbs, like smoothly dripping, gelatinous slime. The nausea increases as it invades your gut, and your temples throb, like with an ice cream headache, as it covers your head and ripples down your face.

A hard shudder passes through you, rattling your teeth; then your nerves and gut and spirits settle. The invasive feeling withdraws to a tiny point in the center of your skull, where it burns briefly and winks out, but not before illuminating the second soul that now coats the inside of your original soul.

You keep your face covered and your eyes shut as you listen to this second soul. It doesn't speak, not exactly, but you could put its thoughts and emotions into words if if you wanted to:

My name is Caleb, and I swear by holy fucking Jesus this had better work.

You lower your hands and raise your face to gaze back calmly at—

At yourself. At a guy who looks like yourself. Well, if you want to be fucking technical, it isn't yourself, it's Caleb, because he's Caleb and you're Will. But his face is also yours—

No, hang on a moment. You raise your hands and regard your palms and flex your fingers. Will Prescott's fingers. They seem both natural and alien, at the same time.

Just as Caleb's were, when you put on that mask of him.

This is the opposite of that time, you think. Then I was Will, and I had Caleb's body. But now I'm Caleb, and I've got Will's body.

But if I had Caleb's body ...

A wicked smile twists beneath the muscles of your face. "Where's that mask you pulled off me?" you demand, and glance around for it.

"Why?"

"Because," you say with exaggerated patience, "I wanna see if it and the dingleberry can work together." You spot the mask by Caleb's side, and he flinches as you reach past to grab it. "Now watch closely while I do this, in case—"

You don't finish before pushing the mask to your face. You don't even feel yourself falling backward onto the table again.

* * * * *

You wake again, this time with a feeling of alert anticipation. Of course you know why that is. You're eager to see if the experiment came off. You sit up and raise your hands.

You are briefly, very disappointed, for they are your own. "Hey," you honk at the figure huddling in the corner of the room. "Why the fuck did you—?"

Then catch yourself, and do a double-take at your hands. They're your hands, sure. You grin. Because I'm Caleb Johansson.

"Hey, what are you hiding over there for?" you call as you hop off the table. You look around until you spot the full-length mirror, and strut over to it. You check yourself out, making a few characteristic faces. They come very naturally, and with your own memories you recognize them as perfect copies of those you're used to seeing on his funny-looking puss. "This is so awesome!" you exult. "Dude, I'm you! Inside and out!"

A shadow looms behind your reflection, and Caleb appears behind your shoulder. He looks more than a little scared. "Come on," you tell him. "Why are you looking so freaked out?"

"Um, because this is more than a little freaky?" he says.

"You didn't freak out so hard when it was just the mask," you retort.

"That was just a mask." He swallows. "Do you have—? Are you—?"

"Yeah, I could totally pass myself off as you," you brag, and pull at the cuffs of your shirt. "Do any shit you ask me too. Do any—"

You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling. Your mouth pulls into a grin. "Do any shit you're too scared to do. Like— Ask your secret crush Jenny Ashton out on a date?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Caleb gasps.

"Okay, so, you wanna hang out here tonight while I go home for you?" you ask his reflection in the mirror, for you're having a hard time tearing your eyes from the mirror. "Or I guess I can stay here while you go home. Either way, one of us can start working on the next spell. You were just about to do that, I know."

"You're not going home as Dane?"

"Pfft, no. With Chen after him?"

But it won't be Chen after you, will it? Not if you put through that plan to swap places with Chelsea!

And this new doohickey Caleb discovered comes along just in the nick of time to help with that.

Next: "The High and the Mighty, the Low and the Flighty" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 2)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)"