Chapter #68The End of Blackwell's, the Start of Straussler's by: Seuzz   Frank's point troubles you until Rick speaks again: "That doesn't matter. Whoever gets Glundandra, in whatever combination, is going to seem like a rival. But as long as you've got that magic mask," he adds, fixing you with a keen gaze, "you can be that rival whenever you like"
That reassures you; better, the thought of using that kind of power to help manage erstwhile colleagues--partners who are independent of you, even if they share your anima--is also appealing.
And as Rick has pointed out, it would be easier to combine Glundandra with Eldibria, and to leave Aparijita's essentia intact. Those are the grounds you appeal to when you give your decision. Frank and Joe accept without any kind of demurral.
"Great," Rick says. "If we're finally done with that, I'm ready to put an end to this farce. This house is creepier than anything back in Cuthbert. Let's stain it with Rick Bredon's blood and be done with it." He wobbles as he stands up. "Oh, what happened to Blackwell and Melody Weiss?"
"I unmasked Blackwell's golem and sent Melody back to the university with orders to stay available," you say.
"She could be the one to get Aparijita's essentia," Rick says.
"She doesn't make my sap rise," Joe says.
"She would if she had it."
"It's something to think about," you say. "Where do want us to set up the dissection table," you ask Rick.
"Back yard is fine," he says. His face is very pale.
"I can't scratch it into the dirt."
"I don't care," he says, his voice rising. "Come find me upstairs when you get it figured out." Swaying, he strides from the room.
"You know, I said I hated to lose him," Frank says quietly when he's gone. "But it looks like it would be a kindness to--"
"I know what you mean," you say. "Joe, how about you get some of Blackwell's knockout drops, put him under. He seems a little--"
But Joe's already vanished in a blur.
* * * * *
You leave Rick sleeping until morning, and put him under again at mid-morning. That's because after talking things over with Frank and Joe, you've decided to expand your arsenal of tools.
It's a great pain having to draw any sigil, but the one you've had to use when dissecting and reanimating people is an especially heavy-duty one. It's too big to fit inside a book--and you know of no tricks to reduce it in size--so you decide to make up a life-size permanent model that you can cart around. "Now I understand why they turned it into a machine in Cuthbert," you say. "It's just easiest."
But your model will be more portable. Frank drives out to metal-supply store and returns with a large sheet of steel and some tools. Over the course of the rest of the day--a Sunday, which makes it seem extra-blasphemous--you carve the hyper-complicated sigils into the sheet; the line work glitters in the light with bitter blues and lurid crimsons. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe transfer the boxed up books to Straussler's over the course of several trips.
"The old man set us up with a special room," Joe says after one such trip. "Used to be a ballroom or something. We've told him to buy a lot of shelves, and he'll put an electronic lock on it."
"We'll need someplace for this thing," you say, indicating your half-finished job.
"Oh, there'll be room enough for it there. Plenty of room for dancing and necromancy."
The latter word gives you some pause, but you put it aside to return to your work.
* * * * *
You become increasingly nervous as the time for making the final transference comes closer and closer. You have the feeling that you're overlooking something. But after talking it all over with Frank and Joe and Rick (awake again, and ready for his final disposition), you decide it's all set. Everything you need from Blackwell's has been moved to the Straussler's. Frank and Joe have also emptied their own house of the few things they will want. As twilight deepens, you spread some magical arson stuff throughout Blackwell's villa.
But the next to the last thing is to take care of Rick. He disrobes and lays onto the metal sheet. You activate sigils, and bit by bit he dissolves into his constituents: a bare golem; two bottles of essentia; a bottle containing your own anima (retrieved from Rick); and his imago preserved in case of later need in a mask.
"You think he'd be okay without his essentia giving him those visions?" you ask Frank as the two of you drive away from the villa.
"I think he was too damaged," Frank says thoughtfully. "And how would you bring him back? Put that mask onto someone?"
"We've found lots of ways of doing lots of things," you say. "One of those spells, you know, lets you modify memories inside people. Maybe we could merge his memories with someone else's? Give them a double set?"
Frank looks over at you. "I hadn't mentioned it," he says. "But I was wondering how we were going to do it with Aparijita. I guess I thought you'd be bringing her back the way she was."
"If everything else fails, that's what we'll have to do," you reply. "But if I could squeeze her mind into someone else's, merging them--"
You're interrupted by a flash of light behind you: the villa, exploding in a fireball. Frank doesn't stop, but continues to drive on until you hit the convenience store you'd set up as a rendezvous. Joe--who'd stayed behind to light the blaze--is already waiting there, grinning, having sprinted hard to beat you. "Pretty fireworks," he chortles as he leaps into the cab with you.
* * * * *
Then it's out to the Straussler's, where you transfer the rest of your loot to the ballroom: It's a vast, dim, echoing space, paved with tile, that's easily ten times the size of Blackwell's old library. You waste no time breaking it in: You put Straussler onto the sigil, lift the mask from him, and reduce him to bare substantia. But Joe takes the mask instead of putting it onto the golem. "I've been missing this," he chortles.
"Just in time for classes tomorrow," you say after he wakes up again.
"Just in time for Monique," he smiles as he stretches and rises. "Everyone's been wondering what happened to Frank and Joe," he adds.
"For heaven's sake, don't say anything."
"I'm not an idiot," he retorts. "Fuck," he adds, blinking. "I just got accept to Princeton."
"Congratulations," Frank says dryly. "With Straussler's brain, maybe you'll pass most of the classes."
After that you play some pool and classic video games in the spacious rumpus room out back, then repair to Jonathan's "punishment corner," where you and Frank bed down in some sleeping bags. "What are you gonna do tomorrow while I'm at school?" Joe/Jonathan asks.
You flick your mask until the control sigil appears, and you slide into Frank's body. "Hit the weight set," you reply. "It's been a couple of weeks. I feel like I'm atrophying."
Jonathan glances between you and Prescott's prone body. "Well, just stay out of sight."
And so you do, though by noon the next day you're feeling bored and restless, and switch into the Straussler-disguised Joe for the afternoon. You find Monique attentive and delectable, and talk her into skipping fifth for some flirting and smooching in the library; you resist the temptation to take control of her. She talks about coming out to the house with you, but you demur, saying you've got things to do. She pouts a little, but you squeeze her until she's happy again.
When post-class basketball practice is over you take out your phone, find Chelsea Cooper's number in an online directory, and call her. She sounds irritated when she answers, but warms considerably after you introduce yourself and explain the reason for your call. "I'm thinking about throwing a party out at my place," you say. "All this Eastman-Westside crap has been bothering me. I was thinking we should all break bread, try to get to know each other." She cautiously agrees that might be a good idea. "Great. Wanna come out to my place around six, look around, talk about it?"
As you'd suspected, she jumps at the chance to see the house where the uber-rich Strausslers live, and agrees.
* * * * *
She's actually early, but you're waiting for her out front, and smile broadly as she gets out of her pert little car. She's dressed up, too, in tight jeans and a cashmere sweater; her golden hair is perfectly coifed. "Miss Cooper," you say, and raise her hand to your lips. "So delighted to have you here." She dimples, and her own smile is dazzling.
"It's very big," she says, looking up at the eaves of the massive manor.
"We'd only be taking up a corner of it," you say as you lead her around the side of the house. "I've already talked to my folks about it. They'd give us one of the wings and leave us alone. It'd be catered--" She squeals, then controls herself. "But it would have to be alcohol free."
"No problems there," she says. Her head swivels to take in the grounds and the tennis court and the basketball court and the fountain and the racing track. "We don't want anybody causing trouble."
"And with you ride herd, I'm sure there wouldn't be," you say as you open the door to Jonathan's private suite.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, we know all about you. That's why we want you on our team. Frank?"
Your partner gets out of the beanbag where he's been slouched. He clenches his hand, and Chelsea freezes and topples against you.
Now it comes to the point. Do you make her a puppet? Or a full partner?  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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