This choice: Settle for Jared ... for now • Go Back...Chapter #15The Frame Up by: Seuzz   You opt for Jared, as you would like to keep an eye on Blackwell. After you are "human" again, Blackwell leads you downstairs, to make "proper introductions." Shabbleman glowers in an unfriendly way, and Blackwell seems too preoccupied to smooth things over. There passes a tense evening spent avoiding each other.
When night has properly fallen, Blackwell leads everyone upstairs to separate bedrooms. "I cannot urge you strongly enough to stay in your rooms with the doors closed and locked," he tells you and Shabbleman. "I have ... Well, you might call him a 'night watchman' who prowls the grounds between midnight and dawn. Your doors, once closed, are sealed against him. But break the seal, and you will pay a terrible price." You don't need to be told, but sardonically you wonder how seriously the other takes Blackwell.
* * * * *
You rise early to fix yourself some breakfast, and only after you are well along do you realize you have no appetite. Not long after, you hear Shabbleman's and Blackwell's voices. They are indistinct, though you think you hear Shabbleman say "third wheel." Both fall silent when they see you, though Shabbleman gets a gleam in his eye as he sneers at you.
"I think," says Blackwell, "that the day would be best spent if we all did chores that kept us out of each other's way. As it happens, I have classes to teach. I can give Mr. Shabbleman some reading. Mr. Prescott, after breakfast I have a little physical labor to ask of you."
"I'm not hungry," you say. "Do golems need to eat?"
"Not regular golems," he says, tugging his ear, "though it is good to keep in the habit. Still, if you'd like something to do—" He shrugs and beckons you outside.
"I need a little digging done," he says, handing you a shovel and leading you around to the mausoleum. He indicates a wheelbarrow and a trench. "Just fill the wheelbarrow, at least to the lip on all sides, with soil from this spot." He unlocks the mausoleum. "Then unload it inside," he instructs, pointing to a stone bier that has a sigil carved on it. Into the middle of it he pours the contents of a small envelope. "Cover that please, carefully, as you start. It is a necessary ingredient for an important spell."
It's dirty work, and you curse as you set to it. Your temper isn't improved when you glance up at one point to spot Shabbleman grinning at you evilly from a window. As you just finish moving the pile a silhouette looms in the doorway: Blackwell.
"Very good," he says quietly, stepping in and pulling door closed. He hands you a small suitcase and a watch. "Give me five minutes, and then you may exit. Hop quickly over the wall and sprint around to the back, where you will find an SUV. Inside, you may change into the clothes in this bag. There is also a mask. Meet me at my office at 1:30."
"Where's your office?"
He smiles. "The person inside the mask knows." And then he leaves.
* * * * *
You bounce along lightly on the balls of your feet, smiling to yourself at the appreciative stares from the boys, and occasionally waving to acquaintances. The short skirt brushes nicely against your thigh, and your long, blonde hair swings around your shoulder. You love to tuck it back behind your ear.
You're a few minutes late, but you don't mind making Blackwell wait. "Professor," you chirp, sticking your head around his door. "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course, Miss Vredenburg," he says. "It is always a pleasure." He gestures you to close the door and sit. "I must say, you are looking flushed with happiness."
You shrug and cross your legs. "I feel good. That's all." He returns your smile. "So what's with the cloak-and-dagger stuff?"
"Mm-hmm. I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident," he says, steepling his fingers and giving you a wry look. Your heart leaps hopefully. "A Mr. William Prescott," he continues, "a student from the local high school, burned to death this morning when he became trapped in a small building on my property."
Your smile freezes. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm afraid it was the only way to effect a separation between you and Mr. Shabbleman," he says quietly. "I'm afraid I had to arrange things so that he would think that you are dead."
"You mean you killed that golem you made of me?" The thought that even your duplicate might be dead to the world makes your blood chill.
His face twists. "Hrmm. I see my attempt to be humorous has backfired. Let me be plain." He leans forward. "I arranged things this morning so that it would appear that you, the living golem, had been destroyed. I did this so that Mr. Shabbleman would think I had gotten rid of you. I kept him distracted until you had escaped in Miss Vredenburg's SUV, and then I took him out and showed him the burning pile of earth that, I said, were your remains after you had fallen into my trap. In fact, of course, you have simply adopted a new disguise." He gestures at you.
You blink. "I still don't understand. Why did you have to pretend to get rid of me?"
"Because we need to get rid of him, and he has to be put off his guard."
You bury your face in your hands. "You're giving me a headache."
"If you'll just me explain—"
"No!" You raise your head and feel the blood rush to your face. "You've been dancing around since I showed up again! You answer my questions!" He blanches. "You tell me what I want to know!"
He seems to glower for a moment, but then lapses into an oily smile. "Certainly," he says softly. "That is why I arranged this meeting via some extremely devious means. But before I tell you everything, I would like to ask you a very important question."
You glower at him, but he ignores it.
"You intimated last night that you wanted a body again. Do you still want a body?"
You blink. "You mean, like, a human body?"
"Precisely. Not a golem's shell with a mask attached. An actual body."
Your eyes narrow. "I thought you said that golems are indestructible. That this is a phil— Phil—"
"Phylactery" he says. "Yes, your golem's body may be indestructible. I don't know, however, that that is exactly what has happened to you. And it may have disadvantages."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm not saying anything. I'm asking. I'm asking if you want a human body again."
He's up to something. "I thought you said you couldn't get me my body back."
"True. That I don't know how to do. But I said 'a' body. Not 'your' body."
"Okay, I'll bite. Whose body?"
"Your cousin's? Mr. William Shabbleman's?"  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author