Chapter #69Chelsea Joins a New Team by: Seuzz   Glundandra and Eldibria. A boss-type who would be good at manipulating people, that's how Rick had forecast the combination would work, if lodged in the right personality. And if there's anyone who has those qualities already, it would be Chelsea Cooper, the head cheerleader and acknowledged queen of Westside High School.
"What the--?" Chelsea squeals. "I can't move!"
"I know, Chelsea," you say. "Don't worry about it. It'll be okay, you'll see. You'll like it when it's all over." She falls against you, and you grasp her in your arms. Frank opens up a vial of Blackwell's knockout powder, but you wave him off. "We don't need that," you say, and push her into his arms. "Just keep her muffled."
Frank gives you a look, but claps a hand over Chelsea's mouth; her eyes roll with terror in their sockets.
You manifest Joe's illusory twin and send it into the house to scout ahead; through its eyes, you see the way is clear, and gesture Frank to follow you with the captive girl.
In the makeshift library you direct him to lay her on the sigil. "Jonathan!" she gasps as Frank's hand comes away. "Whatever you want, I-- I'll--" She swallows, and her voice shakes hard. "I'll give it to you."
"Of course you will, Chelsea," you say. "And you'll be happy to. I'm going to give you something you'll really like." She turns very white, and starts to hiccup.
You set empty bottles in the sigils for essentia and anima, and a blank mask in the sigil for imago. With his invisible fists, Frank keeps her pinned in place even as the two of you stand off to the side. You extend your hands palm downward and chant the incantations. First you strip her of her physical form, then pull her anima and essentia from her, which you label and put on a shelf. "You know how to carve a remote sigil," you ask Frank as you pull the clothes off Chelsea's remnants.
"It's not something I really remember."
"Then get out the bottles with the Glundandran and Elidibrian stuff while I take care of it," you say as you drop onto the golem with a steel-nub pen in your hand.
Frank's eyes widen as he realizes what you're planning. "Are you out of your mind? You're gonna put some of our stuff inside--?"
"She'll be fine once I've got my anima in her, same as you and Joe. And she'll be better once I'm inside, pulling the strings."
"How long are you planning on doing that? And what are we going to do with your body while you're--? You already went all day without eating!"
"I'll pull out of her long enough to take meals, a little exercise," you say as you scratch the runework into the golem's chest. "As long as she knows I'm around and can get back into her whenever I want, she'll behave. Like you and Joe." You grin a little to yourself at your addendum, for you are being Joe at the moment.
Frank still looks unhappy. "It'll be a hell of a thing with her being one of us." He shudders. "She was hard enough to deal with when she didn't have any magic inside her."
"She always had that kind of magic, didn't she? She'll be unstoppable once she's got--"
"Unstoppable by who?"
"I know what you're worried about, Frank. Don't be. She'll be unstoppable by the people we turn her against. But she'll be one of us. Now quiet down while I concentrate."
* * * * *
It takes the better part of an hour to get it all done. After you get the remote sigil onto her you use the band that had been on Rick to put your own anima inside the golem. Then you put the two bottles of essentia into the appropriate sigils and put them into Chelsea; the two arcs of lightning merge as they plunge toward her; thunder rolls through the room. "That'll bring someone running," Frank mutters as he rises from a half-crouch.
"We'll tell them we were bowling," you say, getting off the floor, where you'd also thrown yourself. "That was bigger than I thought it was going to be."
"Think it came off?"
"Only one way to find out." You hold out your hands again, make the incantation, and send Chelsea's imago back onto her.
Her naked body--so perfectly formed--betrays no hint of tan lines as it lays in the sigil. Her thighs and calves are strong and taut; her boobs spread and droop only a little under gravity's pull; her hair is a lovely tangle. And her face is drawn up in a proud little pout.
Her eyes spring open. She blinks hard a couple of times, then sits up with a groan. She puts a hand to her temple, and presses it lightly with tapering fingertips. She raises her eyes, meeting yours and Frank's. Her nostrils flare. No one says anything for a very long minute.
"Okay," she says quietly. "The last thing I remember was being in Cuthbert. We were going to catch Rick Bredon, and I needed to make an anima band--"
"It's been a week since then," Frank says, and looks inquisitively over at you.
"Really." She lifts her breasts with both hands and gazes down at them, her hair dropping over her face. "That's a surprise, but nothing like the surprise of finding myself inside Chelsea Cooper's body."
It would probably be fun trying to explain things, but you're eager to test-drive your new partner. So you murmur some arcane words, and the control sigil appears before you. There are your puppets, glittering like stars. Three of them shine very brightly: Joe Durras, Frank Durras, and Chelsea Cooper. You draw the latter around yourself like a silvery veil.
* * * * *
You have a slight headache, probably caused by stress and surprise, and shake the hair from your face. But you don't release the plump breasts that sit in your slightly sweaty palms. They feel so good, like firm, ripe fruit. The nipples harden at the thought of having someone suck at them.
"So, I'm guessing that's Prescott inside her now," Jonathan Straussler says. "Yo, Will, is that you fondling our new--?"
"Yes, it's me. Checking it out from the inside."
"How is it?"
You look up from under your brows. "As magnificent as you'd imagine, Joe," you say. He groans and turns away.
You get to your feet. The ground is very close, and Jonathan and Frank loom over you. But you feel no worry or fear, not even the echo of Chelsea's terror as she'd been dragged into this room. "Oh, you were right, Jonathan," you coo. "I feel so much happier now."
"This is sick," Frank says.
"What about the essentia?" Jonathan asks.
You bend over and easily grasp your feet. "I don't know. I feel kind of sparkly, but that might just be from the-- And I never felt anything when I was just Will Prescott, not before I started meditating."
"We're gonna have to start getting her trained, then," Frank says. To Jonathan, he mutters, "What do you think, Joe? Do we really want to weaponize her?"
"What matters is what I think," you snap. "And it's too late for second thoughts." You straighten up, shaking your hair back. "We need to put you guys someplace where we can meet up for training. Frank, how would you feel about taking over for Gordon?"
"You mean with a mask?"
"I mean permanently. I don't want any of us inside masks, in case the Stellae snoop around in town and have a way of--"
"How would we do that?"
"Strip you of your imago, put Gordon's onto you. Do something the same with Joe."
Jonathan's expression falls. "I like my face. Lots of girls like my face."
"It's a nice face. We'd keep it in reserve, inside a mask."
"Do I have to be Gordon?" Frank asks.
"Don't you want to be my boyfriend?" you ask coyly.
Jonathan raises his hand. "I'd be Gordon."
"Well, I'd have to think about it anyway," you reply, and snatch your panties up from off the floor. "That's the reason we added Chelsea, after all. She'd know exactly where to put you guys." You slide your legs into the very tight jeans and button them with a grunt. "Dammit, I hope these things have been shrinking in the wash. I hate diets."
"What about you?" Frank asks. "I mean, you yourself."
You pause, the bra in your hands. Will Prescott. You feel the loathing that Chelsea feels for him. That little creep. "Let's go take a look at him," you mutter as you finish getting dressed.
* * * * *
You are laying where you'd put yourself this morning, on Jonathan Straussler's bed. You are staring up at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Correction: You are seeing the world through Chelsea Cooper's eyes. And through her eyes you look like a lank scarecrow.
"What's been happening at Westside?" Jonathan asks.
"Nothing good," you say, still staring at yourself. "All his friends have dropped him. Chelsea has seen to that." You smile tightly. "So he's been hanging out with the portables crowd. You know, Justin Roth, Shep Tsosie, losers like that." People who don't give a fuck about Chelsea and her standards.
"But Chelsea can fix that now, right?" Jonathan's voice is sly and lazy.
But some things might even be beyond Chelsea's skill. And now, from inside Chelsea herself, you can't really imagine yourself returning to this life. You look around. "Why can't he just stay here, like this?" you say aloud.
"He'd starve to death," Frank says. "You would, I mean."
"So he's in a coma," you shrug. "Let the Strausslers keep him here, hire a private nurse to take care of him. Do we really need this body running around?" You sniff. "It wouldn't be a loss to the world."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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