Chapter #64The End of One Conspiracy ... by: Seuzz   "First we need to make up a mask of you, Nate," you remind him. "That was the deal, right? You get to be Grandmother, and I get to be you. Besides, the town constable can't disappear, can he?"
"I guess not," Nate grunts doubtfully. "But I should put this mask on before we go back to the Big House."
"That ain't necessary. I can get in, now that Grandmother's out of the way. Be back in a spell."
So you trot back to the house, where you pick up another blank mask and a tub of the special sealant. No one stops you.
Nate is pacing nervously when you return. "We should burn these skins," he says.
"I'll take care of them," you say. "And no, I won't feed them to the Minotaur."
"If that thing gets loose again--"
"We'll dig through Grandmother's things, figure out a way of killing it or something. Now here--" You hold up the blank mask. "Just put this on. It'll copy you for me."
"You gonna be able to handle my job?"
"I've watched you. And you can give me pointers. We're gonna be real close, right?"
"A'course, Will."
"I mean, really close. Right?" You lean on the words.
"Sure." But he looks sick. Gingerly, he takes the mask from you. As you direct, he sits on the floor and puts it to his face.
And while he's unconscious, you paint the inside of the Rosalie mask with sealant that will turn it into a golem under your control. You're so quick about it that you get it done even before his mask has reappeared on his face, and you slip Rosalie's mask onto him, trapping him under the disguise. The new "Grandmother" wakes instantly. Despite what you'd told Nate, the mask does contain the old witch's memories, so this golem will be able to play the part of Grandmother perfectly while following your orders.
You catch her bare arm as she reaches for her clothes. "A grandson does love his grandmother," you murmur with a soft leer. "Especially when she's--"
Especially when she's such a tender and inviting thing. There are roses in her cheeks, and a pink flush down her firm limbs. Her nipples are hard and erect in the chill of the church basement. Her breath comes in short, hard gasps as you pull her to her feet and wrap your arms around her. "Kiss me," you whisper, and open your mouth to hers. She is stiff and unresponsive, but you don't need any help from her as you tug down the front of your pants and guide your throbbing cock inside her. You take her standing up.
Only afterwards do you remember that you're still wearing the skin of a "Frank Durras." You tug it off--it is sticky and wet, and you turn it inside out as it peels off. Freshly nude in Will Shabbleman's form you become excited all over again; you drop down a pad of discarded clothes--Frank's and Joe's and Rosalie's and Nate's--and lay her onto it. "You love me, Rosalie. You love me and would do anything for me." Under this prodding the golem relaxes and reciprocates your affections, wrapping her legs about your hips as you thrust rhythmically inside her.
You're exhausted by this point, but you've got a plot to finish, so you seal up your just-made mask of Nate Shabbleman--like the Rosalie/Grandmother mask, it has a mind band inside it to help with the impersonation--and put it on. You wake to find the girl/woman dressed, but you pull her onto the ground with a grin, and fuck her for a third time in a third face, this time from beneath. "Hell of a lot better'n the lays ol' Nate's been gettin' all this time," you snuffle and snort when you're done. "Ah, fuck you, Nate. Fuck me, I mean. You weren't gonna put out for me, were you, y'old dick." You sit up with a groan and pull the constable's uniform out from under you. Rosalie's getting dressed as you start pulling on the heavy trousers and blue shirt and boots. "Gimme them things," you say to her as you buckle the heavy belt and holster around your hips, and she hands you the skins of Frank and Joe Durras and Rosalie Stewart. You wrap them up and take them back to the jail, where you hang them in the closet, so they can be easily found by any that care to search.
"Any" meaning the Stellae who will come searching for their missing colleagues in a week or so.
* * * * *
"'Lo, Jape," you say as the station's operator hobbles out front to meet you a little before noon. "Been any traffic through?"
"Nah." He nods at Rick's car, which you've driven up in. "Yew bring that over fer choppin'?"
"We've need of it. Yew know that. Brung you some clothes, too." You hand him a bundle--Rick Bredon's sports coat and shirt and slacks and socks and shoes. "Aparijita gets in at seven. You're going to meet her, you know."
"So it all went down according to plan?" He leads you back into the station office, which isn't much warmer than it is outside, despite the oil-burning heater.
"Easy peasy. Jes' got back from lunch wit' Sam 'n Zach, fillin' 'em in on it. Had a nice laugh when I tole 'em 'bout puttin' them skins on an' takin' 'em off. Well, Sam laughed. Zach looked a little sick."
"The cadet ain't one for jokes," Jape says as he pulls off his clothes. "You probably thought it was funnier than--" He pauses, and stares hard at you. "Just so we're clear," he says slowly. "You put Nate--"
"Yeah, I trapped him inside a fake Grandmother. She'll run things the way we want until the Stellae show up, but won't be able to tell them anything."
"And unless I miss my guess--" he starts.
The world darkens into a night sky dominated by constellations--three of them brighter than the others--before it reappears. "--I'm talking to Will Prescott right now," you find yourself saying as you shake out Rick Bredon's clothes.
Nate Shabbleman pauses and looks a little shifty for a moment. "Yep," he finally says, and grins. "Will Prescott pretending to be Will Shabbleman pretending to be Nate Shabbleman."
You hold his eye, waiting for him to confess that the spirit of Will Prescott is no longer operating his body and intelligence, but he continues to smirk idiotically. Interesting that a fake will continue to pretend to be operated by you. Probably useful, too, since it will keep the other fakes on their toes, not knowing where you are.
So you grunt rather than correct him. "You trust me to handle Aparijita?"
That catches him a little off guard. "Sure," he says, and glances down at your clothes. "It's Rick Bredon who'll be taking care of things. Right?" Then he grins again. "Unless I decide to switch points of view and help you take care of whatshername directly."
You pull off the last of Jape's clothes, and glance out the window. "Or maybe you'll be thinking of that girl back there in the Big House. You give her a hard tumble after you got the mask onto Nate?"
"Naturally." He leers. "But she's back at her house now--"
"Meaning you might decide to visit her under some other face." You shake your head. "If you go out there as the kid, looking like Sam Gibson-- Well, I hope you're gentle enough to take the bottom."
He laughs very loudly. "Jes' get a move on, y'old fucker." He indicates that you should finish by taking off Jape's mask and leaving under Rick Bredon's guise.
* * * * *
It's a six hour drive back to Saratoga Falls, long enough and boring enough that you spend much of it flitting between your various bodies. Will Shabbleman--under Nate's mask--sits in the gas station, watching the road, and you play a few lazy hands of solitaire. You switch over into Frank Durras--under Zach Martin's face--and find him and Sam Gibson cleaning up the church basement after having reduced the fake Rick Bredon to skin and clothes. You reveal yourself to Joe--acting the part of Sam--long enough to tell him that they'll need to take the Rick skin over to Nate's to hang with the others. While Zach is thus preoccupied, you switch over into Joe/Sam's consciousness long enough to arrange the other pieces of your upcoming escape from Cuthbert by piling up the Durras truck with supplies and driving it to the outskirts of town.
But you spend most of the time concentrating on the drive.
Aparijita's flight arrives on time, you meet her at the baggage claim. She and Rick Bredon have met only a few times, and only briefly. But she recognizes him, and you recognize her. Her skin is dark, the color of black, fertile earth; her eyes are liquid pools; and her thick mane of hair seems to crackle with electricity. Her limbs are strong, and even in jeans and a jacket she exudes an aura of power. A floral scent wafts from her--not perfume, but the verdant essence of Perelandra itself.
You exchange blunt and rather pedantic pleasantries; Rick isn't one for small talk, and Aparajita seems wilted from her flight. Magnanimously, you wheel her carryon out to the car; she doesn't thank you.
In fact, she doesn't speak for the longest time, even after you've put her in the passenger seat of the sedan and leaned over to quickly slap an anima band onto her forehead. She seems wary when she wakes, and only mutters a quick "Will Prescott, as if you didn't know" when you ask who you're now talking to. Only when you're back on the highway does she expand. "And am I talking to myself as well?" she asks in Aparijita's dulcet tones.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Malaika is in Olympia. Aparijita was supposed to take her back to the Akshardham for some special training. Do we want to try to seize her too?"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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