The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

Waxing Roth

Previously: "Your Life as a Dog" 

"What would we do with the original?" you'd asked Blackwell.

"There are a number of possibilities," he replied, ambiguously.

"I like him. I don't wanna do anything bad to him."

"You have qualms, though you're talking about stealing his life?" Blackwell snickered, but described a possible method.

You nodded slowly. "At least it wouldn't be--" You took a deep breath and plunged on before you could change your mind. "How soon till we can make the switch?"

Blackwell had padded upstairs, to return with a half-polished mask. "As soon as you have rubbed all the white from this mask."

* * * * *

It's grinding work, and it's not until the following Wednesday that you finish. By coincidence, this is also the day that the golem you began preparing is also finished. Blackwell has it in the mausoleum, and shows it to you. "Can I use it for something?" you ask him. He replies, rather archly, "You're already using one of my creations. Ah. Yes. Point taken.

You call up Justin. "I'm supposed to get my truck back on Thursday," you say with pre-emptive defensiveness. "Gimme one more ride to my job?" In his gruff, low-key way, he cheerfully accedes.

"Professor Blackwell was talking about you yesterday," you say on the drive. "You really impressed him."

Justin laughs softly. "What is he, some kind of manic-depressive? First he calls me a slob and then he gets all impressed 'cos I can quote Nietzsche?" He flips the bird at a driver who cut him off. "Gimme a break."

"He asked if you'd be interested in working for him."

That does provoke a bark of laughter. "Oh, fuck me," he sighs. "You won't catch me working there. There's probably mummies in his basement." He laughs at his own joke.

"Yard work?"

"Zombies."

"What are you, scared?"

"Fuck, yeah! I ain't embarrassed to say it. That's what keeps animals alive in the wild, you know, a healthy sense of fear." He laughs again.

"It's not that bad. Just come in and take a look around."

"Would we be working together?"

"Kind of, maybe." You feel a jab of anxiety in your gut. "You're not-- It's not because--" If possible, his grin gets even wider as he turns to stare at you. You redden. "Fuck you, I'm not gay. I'm not trying to come on to you."

That does send him into deep, rolling hysterics of laughter, and he barely keeps control of the car. "Oh, Jesus," he gasps raggedly. "You're funny. You're the funniest guy I know."

"Are you're saying I amuse you?"

Snot comes out his nose. "Yeah, I am. No, I know what you mean." He punches you in the arm. "I'd love working a job with you. Just not for Doctor Dracula."

Still, he agrees to take another look inside the house, and Blackwell welcomes him cordially. There is some small talk; and you grow more and more antsy as Justin becomes more and more impatient to leave, all while Blackwell makes no move toward detaining him. Finally, Justin waves you a curt farewell and goes back to the front door. You shoot Blackwell an exasperated look, which he returns with a glance of blank bafflement. The front door opens, and you are about to explosively demand a "what the hell and why the hell" from Blackwell, when there comes a loud crash. He smiles and gestures you to follow. Justin has collapsed in a heap on the foyer floor. "Booby trap," says Blackwell as he wipes the handle of the door knob with a handkerchief. "A trap for boobies."

* * * * *

"Ah, fuckin-'a," you groan, stretching an arm and massaging a shoulder. "I fucking hurt. My brother came down for the weekend with his bow. Made me work hard."

"Fucking Robin Hood here," Adrian Semple jokes, jerking his head at you and grinning at the others. "You wear green tights? Little cap with a feather in it?"

You laugh good-naturedly, but Kim Walsh makes a face. "You actually shoot animals with it?"

"Fuck yeah. We're goin' out this Thanksgiving, bag some elk."

"That's horrible," Mindy McAdams says. "I couldn't ever kill an animal."

"You eat meat?" She says nothing. "Oh, so you'll eat 'em but you won't kill 'em." She makes a face, and you impatiently slap the wall of the school. "If I don't shoot 'em they'll get eaten by a mountain lion or die of old age. They wind up in the same place."

"Would you like it if someone was hunting you?" Kim challenges.

You laugh in her face. "You mean, like if an elk started walking on its hind legs, and came after me with a bow and arrow?" You double over with laughter as she turns bright red. "Oh, Jesus, yeah, I'd love that. Gimme a choice between dying of old age and that, fuck yeah, that's the way I'd choose to go."

"Why don't you hunt them with a camera?" Mindy says primly.

"You're not fucking serious."

"Why not?" Her chin tilts.

"Because it's a fucking stupid thing to say, and you're too smart to say things that fucking stupid." Her expression tightens. You rub your eye with the heel of your hand. "Look, you can't eat a fucking photograph."

"You eat them?" Kim is horror struck.

"Oh Christ, what do you think we do? We skin 'em, butcher 'em, bag 'em, carry 'em down the mountain, drive 'em home, and put 'em in the freezer. Whaddayou think we do?"

"It's a hell of a food run," Adrian observes. The bell rings. "Come on." He leads a muttering Kim away.

But Mindy stays behind. Not that you're surprised, given the way she's been acting. She is red, and her nostrils flare. She holds your eye. You hold hers. And after a few seconds you reach over and undo her top blouse button. She flinches a little, but says nothing. So you undo the next button. A flush rises up her bosom to her throat. You grin at her, lick your finger tip, and lightly rub a small spot just where her boobs come together at the top of her chest. You lean in close to her face and waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

* * * * *

"Can you get an STD while wearing one of these things?"

Blackwell looks up at you from under his eyebrows. "No."

"What about getting a girl pregnant?" He shakes his head. "Oh, so it's like a full-body condom."

"In a manner of speaking. Why? Got your eye on someone?"

"I got a blow job before coming out here." You start to tell him about Mindy, but he waves you silent before you can reach the climax. "Anyway, good to know."

"Still, one should be careful--" He catches himself, and smiles indulgently. "No, there's nothing for you to worry about. Except breaking the poor girl's heart."

"Eh, she's a slut."

"Is that why your mind hasn't been on your work? Please complete the sigil as I asked."

You look back down at your half-completed work, and with a grunt take up the pen again. You trace out a much more complicated design than he'd asked for, which shuts him up, and lets you return to your actual distraction: the Libra.

It's open to the page of the spell you'd used to modify the Will Prescott mask before setting it on the real Justin Roth. Blackwell, you'd realized after looking it over carefully behind his back, hadn't told you the complete truth about how it worked. He had used a bit of his own hair in the formula without telling you why, but you can see it now after deciphering the sigil: It put your replacement under his control.

Well, it's not like you had any bits of your own hair you could have used. But it bothers you that Blackwell hadn't told you.

Luckily, Justin Roth has won hundreds of dollars at poker, and you doubt your expression at any time has betrayed the qualms you feel about your mentor's honesty.

"What's the deal with the chimp?" you ask, for Blackwell has risen and is fiddling with the vampire-cyclops monkey.

He starts a little, for you've only been watching him out of the corner of your eye. "We had visitors out here again last night," he says brusquely. "You'll need to leave early, as I'm letting him loose early. Hopefully to catch them. Or worse," he adds in a nasty undertone.

"Maybe that Shabbleman asshole's back and sneaking around?" you ask.

"Just attend to your work."

* * * * *

"What about the hills around Drury?" You cradle the phone between your shoulder and ear so you can type in the new url, bringing up a new map.

"Shit, ain't nuthin' up there but scrub," Brand says.

"Thought maybe we could do a nature hike. Was readin' up on some interesting plant life up there."

"I wanna shoot something, not pick wildflowers."

"I guess I could go out on my own."

He sighs. "If I'm gonna make another trip down this weekend--"

"Well, who says you gotta come down, cocksucker?"

"You really going camping?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I got some work I should do."

"Mom says you're not going to graduate."

"Well, either way I'm not going to school next year, so fuck it."

"Well, lemme know what you decide. Later."

You continue to stare at the screen. Drury is nearly four hours from Saratoga Falls. But it's only twenty minutes from Cuthbert. Which is chock full of Shabblemans. Who are related to the Prescotts. If the Shabbleman you met briefly is anything like the others in the clan ... There's no way Blackwell could have just sent him packing.

The computer powers down, leaving you to stare at your dim reflection in the screen. The face of Justin Roth gazes back at you, serene mistrust playing across its features.

Next: "The Paper Chase" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"