The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

A Game of Questions

Previously: "Secret Agents and Hidden Agendas" 

Well, this makes no sense at all, which is actually a pretty good argument for figuring out what's going on. You haggle over where to rendezvous, and settle on the Crystal Cave—an intimate but public coffee bar. You separate, and as you leave the bleachers you shrug noncommittally at Eva and Jeremy, who by now are openly staring at you.

* * * * *

"You didn't say you'd be bringing company," you bluntly tell the-guy-who-had-been-pretending-to-be-Justin. With him is the blonde kid who hassled you in the locker room that day at the archery range. You'd have recognized him from his grin even if his arm weren't still in a sling.

Your new acquaintance turns his palms up in a shrug. "What can I say? My brother's been hanging off my ass since we were little." They exchange friendly, fraternal glares.

You just snort and drop into the booth with them. "So, how is this supposed to work? We just start talking about shit?"

"Well, to start with, Cindy," the dark-haired one says, "you still have us at a disadvantage. I took my mask off."

"Like that tells me anything," you retort. "Besides, it's not a good idea, me taking this thing off."

"How come?" the blonde kid laughs. "You don't look good in a dress?" His brother nudges him.

"Who the fuck are you guys?" you demand. "Is this some kind of shake down? You find my stuff and think you can get something for it?"

The dark one smiles thinly. "First, let's over the rules of the game." He folds and rests his hands lightly on the table. "Rule 1: Each side takes a turn, asking one question each turn. Rule 2: Anyone can decline to answer a question, but then the questioner gets to ask two questions. Rule 3: Liars go to hell, and I'm serious when I say that." He holds your gaze until you have to glance away. "Rule 4," he then resumes. "We continue until one side says stop. Then the other side gets to ask three questions, which have to be answered. And then we see what happens."

They both smile faintly, and their eyes gleam. "You've done this before, haven't you?" you grunt.

"Yes. Now it's our turn."

"What?"

"I said it's our turn to ask a question." He smiles. "And now you're up by two questions. You've leaped our turn, and we get to ask you two questions before you can ask a third."

"But I didn't--! Oh, never mind." You cross your arms and look darkly into the corner of the room.

The blond one chuckles, but his brother looks at you searchingly. "Are you wearing perfume?"

The fuck? "Yeah."

"Yours or Cindy's?"

"Cindy's."

He laughs softly. "Okay, now it's your turn." You stare at him. "Yeah, I threw our advantage away," he says. "You're right, you didn't know we'd started. Besides, it's only fair to show you need to be careful when playing against us." He relaxes confidently against the back of the booth.

"Okay," you mutter through twisted lips. "Who are you jerks?"

"My name is Frank Durras," he replies as the blonde one barks out a laugh. "This here is Joe." The latter nods his head and continues grinning like an idiot. "What name do you go by when you're not wearing a mask?"

You run your tongue over your bottom lip. Already you are not liking this game, and even though you've not been "yourself" in quite some time you feel shy enough to reply, "I'd rather not answer that."

Frank cocks an eyebrow. "Okay. Now I get to ask you two questions. First, is your name, when you're not wearing a mask, Aubrey Blackwell?"

"No."

"Huh. And when you're not wearing a mask, how old are you?"

"Seventeen." That seems safe enough, until you notice Joe's eyes brighten. You drum your fingers. Maybe the best way to deal with them is to play follow the leader. "Since we're asking personal questions, how old are you?"

"Me, I'm eighteen," says Frank. "Joe's still seventeen. You didn't ask, but I'll tell you we go to Eastman. We moved here about a week after school started. We take classes, go out for sports--"

"Kiss girls," Joe adds. "And if you're not Aubrey Blackwell, what is your relationship with him?"

That's up in the air, isn't it? "I guess I'm one of his students," you say. "What's your relationship with him?"

"None," Frank says. "Seen him at a distance, but never met him." His eyes narrow in amusement. "After you answer our next question, you should ask why we're interested in him."

"Fuck you. Just ask me what you want to know."

"Where did Cindy pick up the perfume?"

"I said fuck you. Stop treating me like a baby. And you don't get to ask two questions now, because I'm not refusing to answer. She got it at Nirdlinger's. Now, what do you really want to ask me?"

Frank sighs. "How did you become Blackwell's student?"

"I ran into him at— Well, someplace. He offered me a job. I took it. One thing led to another. Why are you interested in him?"

"We're interested in him mostly because we're interested in you," Joe says. "We thought you might be him, but you say you're not. Is it our turn now?" You grimace but nod. "Thanks. Why were you so keen on taking over the life of Justin Roth?"

You blink at the corkscrew turn, and can only guess it's part of their technique. Then you realize it's not a question you can explain without explaining a lot of other things. That was probably the point. "I don't want to answer that." You expect them to instantly claim two questions, but Frank only watches you expectantly. "Okay, let's just say I had personal reasons," you blurt out. "They had nothing to do with him. He was just, well, he was the only person I could pull off a switch with." You look between him and Joe. "Is that good enough? I decided to answer after all."

"Was it home life, like parents? Or school life?"

"School life, I guess. Well, also health issues, maybe you could call them." Being a damn golem. "I should get two questions now, you know--" Frank nods, which surprises you. "Okay, why are you interested in me?"

The brothers exchange a long glance. "Come back to that question later," Frank says. "We're not refusing to answer it, but we want to ask you a few more things first. Give us another one."

You sigh. "Alright. So, are you, like, friends or family with Will Shabbleman?" They look puzzled. You lick your lips. "The guy I had tied up in the trunk. I assume you're the ones who let him out."

They stare at you, then Joe bursts out laughing while Frank rubs the bridge of his nose. "No, we're not friends with him," the latter says in a tired voice. "In fact, we've got a bit of a bone to pick with him. Yeah, we let him out. That was a colossal fuck up."

"What happened?"

"That's your second question," Frank reminds you. "He stole our truck, left us stranded in the middle fuck nowhere. How's that for gratitude?" He chuckles—a deep, dry sound. "Didn't bother to tell us anything, didn't even bother to put on any clothes. Just saw a chance and grabbed it."

And suddenly, just like that, you feel a connection with them. Everyone at this table has been victimized by that son of a bitch ... "Okay, your turn."

They seem to sense the change in your mood, for they both relax. Joe puts his arms on the table and leans forward, ducking his head deferentially. "These health issues. Did you have them before you went to work with Blackwell? Or after?"

"After." Joe's smile is meaningful, but sympathetic. "If you won't tell me why you're interested in me, can you tell me how I got on your radar screen?"

Joe lets out a long, low whistle. "That's a good question, it'll get you a long, complicated, informative answer," he says. "Can we just say that we started off being interested in the Libra Personae, and that one thing led to another? Yeah, we know about the Libra," he says to your querying glance. "We didn't just trip over your shit yesterday." He pauses to let the consequences of that confession seep in. Then he leans forward again. "Next question: Are you willing to let Justin or Cindy have their lives back? Like, this afternoon?"

Another corkscrew question, and one with a stinger in the tail. "Not in principle, no," you say carefully. "It might be hard to pull off, though. I know where Justin is, and I guess we can turn him loose. But I don't know what's happened to Cindy." They stare at you. "Blackwell did something with her," you say with a stammer. "I didn't even know she was, you know--" You point to your face. "Not until yesterday." They continue to stare at you in an unnerving way, even after you ask, "So how do you know about the Libra?"

Again, they look at each other, but they don't seem to pondering your question. "Look, we know about all kinds of strange and creepy shit," Joe says impatiently. "And we'll tell you more about all that later. I think we've got only one more question for you, and then you get your final three." His gaze becomes very serious, and you feel his will pressing down heavily on you. "Are you starting to regret your relationship with your mentor?"

The answer, of course, is yes. Explaining why, though, would mean taking them into your confidence. Of course, you'd have to demand the reciprocal.

Next: "A Double Cross" 

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