This choice: "I'll take her" replies Blackwell • Go Back...Chapter #6The Things Every Evil Magician Should Have by: imaj   Even though you keep a change of clothes at Blackwell’s house, you resolve to swing by the Sigma Delta sorority at Keyserling College. You’ve no real desire to watch Blackwell make Becca’s face his own. Sigma Delta is, officially at least, your current home. You walk in the front door as if you own the place. As Chelsea, you walk more or less everywhere as if you own the place, but in the case of Sigma Delta it’s close to being true.
For years, Sigma Delta has been better known as the ‘find a rich husband’ sorority. The girls that live here have three things in common. The first is that they are all attractive, ranging from borderline model stunning to sweetly pretty. The second is that you have a copy of every single one of them stored in your mask. A wave of the hand is all that’s required to switch from Chelsea into one of your sorority sisters. You keep a large supply of Blackwell’s knock out powder in your room to make sure that they don’t interfere on the nights you decide to borrow one of their lives for a little while. The third is that each of them has a little worm planted in their head in the form of one of Blackwell’s mesmeric words. It’s hardly an elegant way to control your sisters, but it serves well enough most of the time.
The house itself is predictably quiet. It’s too early on a Sunday morning for most of the residents to be awake – or in a number of cases returned from where they spent the previous night. However, when you stick your head round the door of the lounge you find the sorority president, Miranda Connors, snuggled up on the sofa with her fiancé.
The petite redhead notices you and beckons you in with a wave. You’ve no real choice but to enter and sit opposite the pair of them. Appearances have to be maintained. Through a combination of Chelsea’s natural aptitude at manipulating people and some more occult means you have Miranda convinced, absolutely convinced, that you are her best friend.
“I heard you were slumming it with some freshmen losers last night,” squeaks Miranda. Her speaking voice is high and breathy. It makes it hard for her to convey disdain very well, like she wants to now.
“Oh, corrupting the innocent is much more fun than you’d think Miri,” you reply airily.
She gives you the briefest of odd looks before smiling brightly. “You are so wicked Chelsea,” she squeals. “But when are you going to settle down with a real man.” You see her arm move under the duvet that covers both Miranda and her fiancé. He makes an appreciative grunting sound.
In truth you’ve considered stealing away her fiancé on more than one occasion. His father is some kind of rich investment banker in New York and he’s guaranteed a job in the family firm once he leaves Keyserling. Whoever ended up as his wife would be assured a life of luxury. But as you’ve unravelled more and more about the Libra Personae, the contents of Blackwell’s library and the secrets of Keyserling College you have become more interested in staying here than moving to the north east. You may even end up being the first Sigma Delta girl to do postgraduate work, but it’s better to avoid telling Miranda that. It would only upset her.
Of course, if you wanted a more temporary arrangement then the right word in his ear would have him pumping away at you in the genuine belief that you were Miranda. You wouldn’t even have to switch your mask across either. Or it could be a word in Miranda’s ear and she would be lapping at you whilst he watched. Or maybe it could be both of them at the same time…
“Chelsea,” interrupts Miranda. “You’re daydreaming.”
You flush bright red. You’d love to stay a while and have your way with these two, but there’s no rest for the wicked. “Sorry,” you apologise. “I have to go to the library and study.”
Miranda arches a perfect eyebrow. “Really,” she squeaks.
“Oh you wouldn’t believe what I was studying anyway,” you reply archly.
Miranda smirks. “Oh I could guess,” she replies. “I’d never have thought you’d be on to go for the brainiac type Chels. Still if you get the right one with a tech startup he’ll be worth millions,” she add, almost oblivious to the presence of her fiancé beside her.
You really do intend to study in the library, although not in a way that any student at Keyserling would recognise. And you’ve still that experiment to carry out. Miranda suddenly seems like a very good subject. You pull yourself up from your seat and smile sweetly at the redhead. As you pass by her on the way out the lounge you lean down and whisper into her ear. The string of incomprehensible, alien sounding syllables affects her deeply. Miranda freezes in place and her eyes suddenly seem very far away. “Lose the idiot and meet me in my room,” you whisper very quietly before standing back up.
*****
The third floor of the Keyserling college library is a maze of dense bookshelves arranged in a seemingly nonsensical fashion. The shelves cross each other in places, creating dead ends, corners and hidden pockets within the floor. You lead the disorientated Miranda through the floor, following a well memorised path.
Once you wondered why the college wouldn’t just rearrange the floor in a more sensible manner. Part of your research in Blackwell’s library revealed the truth – the layout of the third floor of the library is stipulated in the will of the college’s founder Cornelius Keyserling. In fact the college has refurbished the library several times and on each occasion has laid out the bookshelves in accordance with the exact specifications laid out by Keyserling himself.
No surprise then, that the arrangement of the shelves is significant – mystically significant. It relates to a series of sigils visible about the college campus – provided you perform certain actions in their presence. Blackwell had alerted you to their existence, though being the unimaginative fool that he is he never thought of them as more than a simple test of power. It was you that managed to discern their true meaning: They are a key.
Here in the centre of the third floor of the library, directly under the dome on the roof is the door. Five bookshelves form almost a complete square here. A gap between two of them breaks the square and doubles as an entrance. In the middle of the square, a thick column rises from the floor to the ceiling. Taking Miranda firmly in hand, you walk round the column until you are opposite the break in the shelves. She follows you meekly, her expression dazed.
Once there you reach into your bag and dip your index finger into a little tub of yellow coloured dust you keep there. Then you trace out the key sigil on the surface of the column. As you pull your finger back once you are finished, the completed sigil vanishes. So does the column around it, revealing a door leading to a tight spiral staircase.
“Whatever you do,” you say gravely to Miranda. “Do not let go of my hand.” She nods weakly and you lead her up the stairway.
You feel the presence of the gwarcheidwad as soon as you enter. You’ve tasked it with guarding this entrance although limited it in its actions to simply frightening unexpected interlopers off. As long as Miranda’s hand is in your own she is safe from its predations. Luckily, she is too zoned from the effects of the mesmeric word you placed in her to feel the oppressive atmosphere the gwarcheidwad generates.
You reach the space at the top of the staircase, nestled into the dome of the library building. Anyone that entered the dome by another route would see only empty loft space, but for you it is mix of library and laboratory. A low ring of bookshelves line the base of the dome, broken only by a sole alcove where a familiar looking stuffed cyclops monkey perches. You lead Miranda to the gwarcheidwad’s physical anchor for this location.
“Touch it,” you tell Miranda. There is no fear in her eyes as she reaches out and places her hand on the creature’s forehead, she’s simply too befuddled. That will prevent it from attacking her while you experiment on her.
You turn your attention to the benches in the centre of the room. These aren’t desks or anything similar. The presence of a set of restraints on each of them gives away their true purpose. As you move closer you see the old bloodstains that still mark each table. Miranda sees them too, and you feel her waver. The weirdness of the room is finally weakening the hold the mesmeric word has over her.
“Wh… What’s going on Chels,” she asks in a hushed voice. “Where are we?”
“Don’t worry Miri,” you reply, smiling insincerely. “I’ve got something here that’ll help.” You reach inside your bag for another tub within. Withdrawing a pinch of Blackwell’s knock out dust, you hold your hand flat out in front of Miranda’s face. She has enough time to raise an eyebrow quizzically before you blow it in her face. Her knees give way and she sinks downward, giving you just enough time to catch her under her arms.
This is your last chance to change course. You could still haul her back downstairs and pass everything off to a fainting spell. Or will you continue with the experiment?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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