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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Missing Mask"  There's too much pressure for you to think clearly: You want to keep the masks hidden from Chen, but you also want to keep your own face hidden from Chelsea; and you can't see how to do both. You decide to risk showing the masks to Chen. "Call Matthias on his cell," you murmur to Chen. "Tell him to pretend like he has to go downstairs to meet someone. After he's gone, we wait a minute, then you go in." From inside your pocket you draw out the blank mask. "This thing, you put it on Chelsea's face. Just grab her and shove this onto her face." You mime putting it to Chen's face, and he jumps back. "Like that. You catch her as she falls, and then you call me in. I'll do the rest." "What is this thing?" "Doesn't matter. Just call Matthias." He does so. It takes a few hissed imperatives before you hear raised voices inside the loft, and the creak of approaching footsteps. You and Chen hide around a corner as the door opens and closes. Footsteps go downstairs. You draw a deep breath, and hand him the mask. He holds it, and stares at it. It dawns on you that he's thinking about using it on you. But then he turns to the door, opens it, and goes inside. A harsh, female voice sounds. "The fuck are you—" Then comes a shrill shriek, abruptly cut off. Then a hoarse shout, which you assume is your signal. You bound into the loft. It looks much like the last time you were up here: boxes and crates and disused exercise equipment that's been shoved into corners. An old gym mat, rolled out in the middle of the dusty mess. On that mat, a tableau: Chelsea Cooper, her head lolling, sagging in Dane Matthias's arms. His eyes are wide with terror. "That plate thing," he says. "It— It melted into her or something!" "Yeah, it'll do that," you say, and help settle her onto the mat. "Was that Chelsea's car we saw out front, next to Gordon's Bug? Then call Matthias, tell him he can split. I'll start getting her undressed." Your palms are already sweating in anticipation, and they're not the only part of you that's tingling. She's dressed in light-blue culotte-style shorts that fall to the middle of her thigh and a sleeveless checker-board blouse; slim sandals adorn her feet. You unbuckle and discard the latter, then unbutton and pull down the shorts, exposing white panties. With a mix of high excitement and a little repulsion, you discover the latter are slightly damp. You're unbuttoning her blouse from the bottom when Chen bends next to you. "Don't hog her," he says as he starts undoing the blouse from the top. "You'll have her all to yourself, you lucky fucker, and not just the clothes," you mutter back. Once the blouse is off, you lift her up and pull her toward you as Chen undoes the bra. And so, when you drop her back, she is entirely naked. And she is glorious. Rounded calves and knees and thighs that join in bowl-like hips that balance a curved stomach above which bloom firm breasts like ripe cantaloupes. Her arms are slim but shapely with hands ending in tapered fingers. Her neck is a little thick—everything about Chelsea seems compressed downward a little—topped by a head draped by golden, shoulder-length curls. And all over, with no visible lines, she's a golden tan—not too brown, so that a glow still shows from underneath. Her face doesn't bear looking at in the circumstances, though: it's slack and shapeless, and her mouth has fallen open. You stare with hurting eyes, and you know that Chen is staring too. Then your eyes lift to meet his. "You are one lucky motherfucker," you tell him. "What now?" he asks hoarsely. "Get outta your clothes. We gotta get them onto her." It doesn't take him long, for he's in Dane Matthias's usual wardrobe: flannel shorts, greasy T, shabby sports coat and sockless tennis shoes. Naked, he is much less inviting to look at than Chelsea. But such is her luster that she still looks achingly beautiful even in Dane's shabby and smelly clothes. Next part? Inside Chelsea's purse you find a set of keys, which you pass to Chen. "Get downstairs and into her car. I'll be down in a few after I've got things wrapped up with her." "You mean run down like this?" he exclaims, and gives you an eyeful of Dane's hairy nakedness. "Then get some of your gear outta your gym locker, your soccer stuff. I'll be along in, like, five minutes." He gives you a skeptical look, but hustles out when you glare at him. You've got several minutes free while the mask is still inside Chelsea. Time enough to think, but nothing comes to you. Having gone this far, you've nothing to do but to keep to the plan. You're not sure what advantage Chen thinks he sees in taking Chelsea's place, and Chen isn't the sort, you judge, to pursue a plan without an angle. Maybe he just recognizes that you hold all the cards, and is knuckling under to you as he knuckles under to Mathis and Macauly and even to Kirkham. In which case, you need to keep showing him that you're the alpha in this relationship. As you ponder this, you organize and fold up Chelsea's clothes, set her purse on them, and make sure you haven't overlooked something. You also confiscate a case of beers from the mini-fridge. Finally, the mask reappears on her face. Gingerly you pull it off her; from an inside pocket in your jacket you take out the small container of sealant and a brush. You keep a very careful eye on her while coating the inside of her mask. So her middle name is 'Courtney', you reflect as you work, for her name floats in blue letters over its inner surface. She is still unconscious when you finish blowing the mask dry. But will she still be unconscious after you've run down to get Matthias's mask off Chen? You look around nervously; then, for lack of a better idea, you drop her mask back onto her. Again, it vanishes. Good enough for now, you pray, and sprint downstairs, taking the stairs five at a time while making a tremendous racket. Dusk has deepened almost to night as you race over to the ghostly figure sitting in the passenger-side seat of Chelsea's red Nissan Sentra. "Last thing, man," you pant after he's got the window down. "I gotta get you out of Matthias. Close your eyes." He doesn't even blink. "Come on, man, you've come this far with me. It's not like you'll see anything anyway." His glare of skepticism deepens. "Fine, it doesn't even really matter. Just don't fight me. Hold still." You clasp his forehead between your fingers, and as softly as you can mutter the magic words. You pull. A mask comes away in your hand. It gives you a queer turn to see the face of Gary Chen lolling unconscious there. You've gotten used to seeing it in a mirror. You're not turning into Chen, are you? Caleb kept asking you. No, you're sure you're not, and the sight of his face brings back a lot of the fear and hatred you'd felt for him since your freshman year brought you together. Still, you've no choice but to work with him, and to keep on being him until you can get this nightmare unraveled. You sprint back into the gym. You find the mask back on Chelsea's face. You lift it, tuck it and the sealant back inside your jacket, and lay Dane's mask on her. Her form wavers, and is replaced by that of Dane Matthias. You'd dearly love to see her reaction when she wakes up. Instead, you make one last hard sprint back down into the parking lot. Chen is still passed out, and you're glad for whatever force of habit led him to leave the driver's seat empty: You drop into it, fish the keys from his loose grasp, start the car, turn on the lights, and peel out of the parking lot. A dippy pop song wails out of the car radio—it's a style both you and Chen hate, and you snicker to think of him trying to pretend he loves it. You search for a good changing spot, and finally settle on the parking lot of a nearby shopping center. You pull into a dark corner near the back. Last step: You put Chelsea's mask to Chen's face. Even in the dark, the golden hair glows as Chelsea Cooper fills out Gary Chen's soccer jersey and shorts. You stare at the figure, trying to get used to the idea that Gary Chen's intelligence is now operating Chelsea Cooper's body. You shiver. * * * * * You're leaning against the passenger side of the car, smoking a cigarette, when you hear the window come down. You turn and drop next to it. Chelsea Cooper, with eyes wide, stares back at you. Her mouth is slack. "Hey there, you sexy thang, how you doin'?" you ask. She says nothing, and after a moment reaches tentatively for the cigarette. You hand it to her. With trembling fingers she puts it to her mouth. She chokes and gasps on it a little before drawing down a good lungful. She blows it out, and swallows. "I thought you said I'd have stuff on the inside, too." "Memories, you mean? You should. Don't you?" Her eyes narrow as she shakes her head. "Try. Where do you live? Concentrate. Remember, you're Chelsea Cooper." "I don't know!" "Well, check out her driver's license. It'll come eventually. After it does, just remember who you are." You take the cigarette from her, draw some smoke into your lungs, and give it back. She does likewise. Your eyes lock onto each other as she passes it back to you. In this way, you silently finish the smoke. Next: "The New Girl" |
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