The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

Fatima's Fate

Previously: "The Girls From Different Worlds" 

You eat your lunch at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, watching Fatiman and Sienna the whole time out of the corner of your eye. When they rise to leave, you follow at a discreet distance. When they part, you follow Fatima until she stops at and opens a locker.

That's when you make your move.

* * * * *

"We appreciate your being so, mm, proactive about this, uh, Will," Philip Fairfax says as he leads you down the cool, concrete corridor toward the studio where he and his friends make their YouTube videos. "We just wish you had given us a little more notice."

He looks like Fairfax and, God help you, he talks like Fairfax too: precise, logical, and stiff as plywood.

But it's not Fairfax. It's the beta that he left in his place.

"Well, I saw my chance and grabbed it," you reply. "Are the other guys here yet? Because I didn't see any cars out front."

"It's just you and me for now. Uh, Carlos and Mike'll be out after supper." He kneels to unlock the door to one of the storage bays. It rattles as he lifts it. "That's when Fatima's coming out, right?"

Yes, that's the plan.

It was a slightly strained conversation you had with Fatima at her locker. You started by reminding her of who you were and that you'd worked with her before on a school project, then asked her if she was good friends with Sienna. After she gave you a puzzled nod, you told her that some of the cheerleaders were talking about asking Sienna to help them make a music video for the squad. Would Sienna and her band be interested? When Fatima asked, Why don't you ask Sienna? and you said that you wanted to spare everyone concerned any possible embarrassment by first sounding out someone who knew Sienna. She made a face, and you then hurriedly introduced the idea of taking her out to Carlos's studio to see some of the videos he and has his friends had made, so that she (Fatima) could see if it was something professional enough that maybe Sienna could be tempted. You had impressed upon her that she should show up without Sienna or any of her other friends—again, to help spare everyone embarrassment. Fatima had looked unhappy, but had agreed to come out at around seven o'clock.

Because of the story you told Fatima, the fake cheerleaders are going to have to absent themselves. It will be up to you to prepare for and make the switch, with the help of the fakes they left behind.

At least you only have beta-Philip to deal with for now. Being semi-robotic anyway, he's probably the creepiest of them, but you feel safer with there only being one of them on hand. If beta-Mike and beta-Carlos were here too (never mind beta-Josiah and beta-Keith), you'd probably freak yourself out by wondering if they were about to go all Westworld on your ass.

* * * * *

The work goes smoothly enough, though it's tedious and you get a crick in your neck as you bend over Carlos's desk and chisel some runes into a small metal band with some tiny tools. On the opposite side of the space, beta-Philip uses a car buffer to shine up a mask that you helped him cast; the room still reeks of the fumes.

At least you are able to confirm—as if it matters—that the book they are using to make the masks is the same crazy one you found at Arnholm's and lost in a scrum with some bullies. It's propped at your elbow, open a few pages in, and it's from that spell that you are copying the runes.

The other two betas show up at around six-thirty, bringing some food with them. While you eat they examine your work and point to a few corrections. When it is finished, they supervise as you glue the band into the inner surface of the mask. "So, Jenny, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Mike asks with a leer after congratulating you on completing your first spell. You answer him with a look.

Fatima is late showing up, and you have to suppress the urge to text her to find out if she's actually coming, but eventually you do get a text telling you she's at the complex gate, needing the code to get in. You shoot it to her, then go outside to meet her.

Dark of hair, dark of skin, dressed in dark colors: Fatima Zahedi is only a shadow in the rapidly failing dusk as she gets out of her car. Her expression is unreadable in the dark, but her tone is friendly as she calls out a "Hey Jenny" to you. "Why are we meeting at a storage complex again?" she asks.

"It's where these guys have their studio." You pull open the door for her. "Carlos Montoya? His family owns the place, and they let him turn one of the units into kind of a studio."

"Huh. Sounds interesting," she says. She makes "interesting" sound like a synonym for "creepy and weird."

Like she's one to talk.

Okay, Fatima is not "creepy and weird," but she hangs out with an artsy crowd, and she's second- or third-generation Iranian-American, so she cuts an idiosyncratic figure almost without trying. Right now, for instance, as you stride down the central corridor, you can't help sneaking an admiring glance at her ensemble. She's dressed in tight, black pants that taper off just above her ankle, and a tight, forest-green jacket that might be velvet; a dark-purple scarf (of silk, maybe?) is tie loosely about her throat and fastened with a silver pin as big as your thumb. She clomps along in black, high-heeled boots with silver buckles.

She catches you giving her the sidelong eye, and does a double-take. "Yes?" she says.

"Just admiring your wardrobe. Wow. Are you going to a party later?"

She laughs, a little stiffly. "No, I just felt like dressing nice tonight."

Really? Because now that you look at her, you recall some of the stories Jenny has heard about what she gets up to at the Warehouse.

"Well, I really appreciate your coming out like this," you tell her. "It's really sweet of you. I know I really should've just talked to Sienna direct, but—"

Fatima laughs again: a very soft and throaty sound. "She can be kind of intimidating, can't she?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that."

"You wouldn't?" Fatima's almond-shaped eyes are hooded with amusement. "So why did you ask me instead of her?"

You try not to blush. "Well, maybe I just didn't know how to spring the idea on her. I don't want to jinx anything for Eva and Jessica and them. So, you know." You shrug. "I thought it'd be better to ask one of her friends."

"Well, I am probably her best friend," she says, and she sounds a little smug as she makes the confession. "We're practically sisters."

"Huh. Well then it's lucky I decided to ask you out. Oh, here we are," you say, for you've reached the open door to the studio.

But Fatima stands back to let you go first. "Hey guys," you announce to the betas of Philip, Carlos, and Mike, who are standing just inside the door. "Look who—"

That's all you have time to say before beta-Mike lunges at you. There's a mask in his hand.

* * * * *

Well, that was almost a disaster. Beta-Mike thought it was Fatima coming through the door, and with a squawk you had to jump aside even as he tried catching himself. Beta-Carlos shouted, and you squealed and ducked, and then there was a general rush on the doorway, and someone cudgeled you aside. As you pitch forward, trying to catch your balance, you hear a squawk and a shout from outside, and a lot of clomping, and finally one great BOOM like thunder as someone falls hard against the door of one of the units, hitting it like a sledgehammer hitting a tympani drum.

When you look out into the hall again, you see that the betas have managed to catch Fatima. Beta-Mike is holding her in his arms while Beta-Carlos and Beta-Philip look on grimly. The former gives you a slit-eyed glare. "Jesus, don't you know how this is supposed to work?" he growls.

"I thought I did!"

"She was supposed to come in first, and you were supposed to grab her from behind."

"Well, someone could'a told me!"

"We thought—"

Philip waves his fellow beta to be silent. "It all worked out," he says as he pulls a slim iPhone from his back pocket. "I'll text the boss and tell him we're getting started. Open up the workout room, please."

Beta-Carlos gives him a glare like the kind he gave you, but complies. Then he helps beta-Mike—who is slowly sagging under Fatima's dead weight—drag your soon-to-be alias inside and lays her on the bench.

"You better get changed out," beta-Philip tells you. "We have to get the inside of your mask treated and onto Fatima before she wakes up."

So you disrobe, which is definitely a creepy thing to do in front of the three beta, and you shiver hard as you lay back atop Carlos's foot locker. Beta-Philip bends over you and fumbles and fumbles at your face while muttering under his breath; you fight the urge to slap his hand away.

Whatever he's doing, it's not working, though. Eventually he says, "Maybe you need to do it yourself," and gives you some mumbo-jumbo type words, then shows you how to place your hand over your brow and pull.

You have to try it a couple of times yourself before you feel something ripping away from the front of your skull.

* * * * *

"So you'll be able to get to Sienna for us?" Maria asks.

"In theory," you reply as you fiddle with a long strand of hair and study yourself in the mirror. Fatima Zahedi startes back at you with an amused expression. "I'm her best friend," you continue, and don't even try to squeeze the smug tone out of your voice. "We're practically sisters."

"How soon?"

"A week, I'm afraid." You tug the jacket down so that it settles more comfortably. "I'm going out of town tomorrow."

Maria frowns. "What for?"

"A funeral. Fatima's grandfather died. Her father got the phone call this afternoon."

Next: "An Evening with Your New Best Friend" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"