Scott couldn't have called at a worse moment. Your dad wants you at Salopek, and despite your fears, you can't disobey him. "I'm here at the school now," you tell him. "Is it gonna take long, whatever you need?"
Scott says something you can't make out, to someone there with him. "Not sure", he says when he comes back.
"Well, there's someplace I have to be. My dad—" You chew your lip furiously. "Listen, just get out here as quick as you can. I'll tell my dad I'll be late."
"Great!", Scott says, and he sounds relieved. "Don't move, alright? I'll be there in ... I dunno, half an hour."
"Sure." You close the connection and pace the basement, thinking. Then you dial your dad.
"You on your way?," he says when he answers.
"I'm gonna be late. I can't get my truck started."
He sighs. "Okay, I'll be right over—"
"No, you don't have to!" Sweat pops out on your brow. "Uh, my friend Keith's on his way over. I think it's just the battery, and I'd try jumping it myself but, you know, I don't have a lot of experience. Keith does, though. His battery's always dying on him."
"Uh huh", your dad says. For a long moment, he hesitates. "Well, don't take too long", he finally says, and closes the line.
You exhale as you lower your phone. You've probably bought yourself enough time until Taylor gets here. You just hope that whatever his wants, it won't take long.
--
You're pacing outside the basement when he arrives. You're just advancing on him when another, even bigger truck turns in and parks next to him. You draw back with a frown as Scott hops out and gestures the occupants of the other truck to wait. Lucy, who is riding with him, remains in his truck.
"Hey, Will", Scott says as he turns to you. "Sorry to bust in on you at such short notice."
"Yeah, so what's this about?", you demand. "Who are those guys?"
"They're who I need to talk to you about. Oh boy." He scratches the back of his head and stares at the ground. "Where do I start?"
You can't believe this. "I don't have time, Taylor", you tell him. "My dad—"
"Well, you told me you're worried about your dad, right?", he interrupts. "I think these guys might be able to help."
"Huh? Who are they?", you ask again. The glare off the windshield makes it hard to make out the occupants in the cab, except that there are two of them.
"They're a couple of guys who know all about the masks and stuff", Scott says quietly. "They know all about magic, and fake people, and Professor Blackwell. They say they're professional warlock-hunters."
--
Whoever and whatever they are, the two guys Scott brought along are content to wait in their truck while Scott tells you about them. The minutes rack up as he relates his day to you.
They were waiting for him at his house when he returned there with Lucy at a little after noon. They are students at Eastman High—"New guys, just started this year"—and somehow they found the box of stuff that Taylor had hidden in the school, and somehow they found out that it had been taken out, and somehow they found out that Taylor was the one who took it out. How they found all this out, they didn't explain to him, but they quickly proved to his satisfaction that they knew what they were talking about.
"They're in town looking for that kind of stuff", he tells you. "That book, the one you found and sold back to the professor? It's some kind of evil deal, and they're here to scoop it up and get rid of it."
So they say, at any rate, and when you challenge Scott on the point—"How do you know they don't just want it for themselves?"—he insists that he believes them.
"They know all about the professor", he tells you. "He's got some kind of reputation for being a black magician, and part of their job out here is to take him down. And I'm pretty sure we can trust them because they've already helped Lucy. That double of hers that's walking around? They caught it and they took it apart. You were right, Will. It was some kind of magical rock creature wearing a mask. They helped me catch it, and got the mask off it." He gives you a long look. "They can help you with your dad."
You turn to stare at the truck cab. Is this the cavalry arriving just in the nick of time?, you wonder. Then you glance back at the basement door. But at what cost?
"Alright", you sigh, "lemme talk to them."
"Good show", Scott says, and he claps you on the shoulder. He turns to the truck and crooks a finger. The two occupants dismount. But Lucy, you notice, doesn't move.
You have to stop yourself from taking a step back as they advance on you.
The driver is half a head taller than you, with black hair cut high over his white forehead and ears. Rounded pecs and shoulders fill out his gray t-shirt, and his thighs and calves are knotted with muscles. His eyes are dark and hard, and his brow and jaw are set in a grim line. He exudes a raw power, and you have the impression he could pick you up by the neck with one hand and crush your trachea in his fist.
The other is like his photographic negative. Dazzling blue eyes dance mirthfully in a tanned face under a tangled mop of golden hair, and his bright, white teeth shine in an open-mouthed smile. He's shorter than his companion, and judging by his forearms he might be as muscular, but he's dressed in a floppy t-shirt and baggy jeans that veil his dimensions. If the dark-haired one looks like he wants to snap your neck, the blonde one looks like he wants to scoop you up and play-wrestle with you.
"This is Frank and Joe", Scott says, indicating them each in turn. "They're brothers. This is Will", he tells them.
"Pleased to meet'cha, man", the blonde one says. He grabs your hand and gives it a hard but friendly squeeze. "Your friend Taylor here tells us you've been doing some amazing work!"
You glance at Taylor, who is wearing Scott's face. He looks more than a little embarrassed. Whether because of what he's been telling of you, or because this guy here called him by his real name, you're not sure.
"So this is like your secret laboratory, huh?" Joe continues as he brushes past you to stare at the basement windows that peep out from behind a screen of weeds. "Whew! This is convenient! You are one lucky motherfucker", he grins at you, "to have a place where you can carry out your secret experiments." He playfully tweaks your shirt. "Can we have a look?"
"What for?"
The other one—Frank—answers. "Professional interest", he growls.
"Shut up, Frank", Joe says. "Will's not scared of you. Lemme see if Taylor told the story straight", he continues, addressing you. "You found an old book about this big"—he gestures with his hands—"all bound in red letter with gold script and a gold pentagram on the spine, called the Libra Personae?"
"I don't know if that's what it was called", you admit.
"But you found it in a local used book store? Fuck!" He gives his brother a back-handed slap in the stomach. "Rick'll shit himself when we share that little detail with him!"
"Look, who are you guys, exactly?", you demand. "Taylor says you're, uh—" You swallow. "Professional warlock-hunters?"
"That's as good a description as any other", Joe says. "Don't shit yourself, son", he adds, and you flinch as he tousles your hair. "You're not in any trouble. We just want the Libra, which you don't got, and any of the shit anyone might've made with it."
He holds your eye, and behind the merry gleam you see something else: a blistering fire that carries the same promise of pain as sits on his brother's shoulders.
Then he blinks, and it's gone. He grins. "Come on, I wanna see your work space. Taylor says you've been doing some pretty impressive experiments. You're no professional", he continues as he swaggers over to the basement stairs, "but it sounds like you are one motherfucking talented amateur."
All the hackles go up on your neck as you follow him, with Taylor trudging alongside. And, you can't help noticing, Frank takes up the rear, blocking flight.
"I put everything away", you tell Joe as you wrestle the key into the padlock. "And I hardly did anything at all. Um, my dad made me sell the book to this university professor—"
"Aubrey Blackwell", Joe says.
"We know about him", Frank adds.
"And, um—"
"And you didn't much like the looks of him", Joe continues as he pushes the door open and marches down into the gloomy basement. "So after you met up with Taylor here and got to know him, you busted into the professor's house, rescued a girl he had locked up in his basement— Oh, fuck me! Is that typical or what?" He hoots with laughter. "And you stole some shit off him and been playing around with it without adult supervision. But—"
He grabs you by the wrist and wrenches your hand up. "You still have all your fingers, so you must be doing something right." He looks back over his shoulder. "Frank, how many times did you nearly blow your own ass through the ceiling when we were working with Kali? I lost count after twenty-one. Wow!"
He hops off the stairs onto the concrete floor. "I am fucking stoked! Lookit this place, Frank!" He runs a finger over a dusty shelf. "If I was still twelve years old, you'd have to chain me to a diesel locomotive to drag me out!"
Your phone buzzes, and you check it. It's your dad, doubtless looking for you. Could these guys help you? Taylor says they caught the fake Lucy. But they seem dangerous in their own way.
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