This choice: Investigate the dept. chair • Go Back...Chapter #11The Magician's Return by: Seuzz   "I'll see Moser now," you tell Fran the secretary an hour later.
"The protocol is that he'll see you," she tells you archly.
"Fran, my princess, you will never achieve an executive position if you don't put yourself over people."
"I already run this department, Aubrey." She leans past you. "Dr. Moser, are you able to see Dr. Blackwell now?" she shouts.
"No!" comes the muffled reply from behind his door.
"Go right in," she says sweetly.
"I see that I must become your adept," you reply. You frown as you look at her. "You have something by your eye." You indicate the place, and she wipes at it. "No, over ... over ... Hang on." You reach forward slowly and brush your fingers near her brow while mutter a senseless Latin phrase under your breath. When you reach the third repetition, you grab hard at her brow and pull.
"Ow!" she exclaims and pulls away. "The hell, Aubrey ..."
"Sorry," you mutter, and continue to frown. You point at her brow. "You might have that looked at by a doctor." Her eyes grow wide. You retreat from the office shaking your head sadly.
* * * * *
Because you'd avoided him earlier, Moser seems intent on keeping you waiting this time, and you have to cancel your meeting with the French Lit professor. You run home to fetch a few instruments that will make the chair more pliant as an interview subject, but by the time you get back to the university he has already gone home for the day. Spitefully, you use one of the pieces of chalk you brought back with you to draw a hex in his parking space that will make his tires attract sharp metal pieces.
* * * * *
You tell yourself you're just checking on Lucy, to make sure that no golems have replaced members of her family. But you know that's a lie, even if you can't figure out why you're going to see her. But you do.
Mrs. Vredenburg answers the door pleasantly and is quite polite when you introduce yourself and ask for Lucy. She shows you into the living room, where her husband is, and calls down to Lucy. Your amnesiac ally looks more relaxed when she appears than when you saw her this afternoon.
"I merely wanted to stop by and offer my sincerest condolences for what happened," you tell her. "After we met, I remembered you. I'm afraid you weren't do very well in my class, and I wanted to apologize for doing better to help."
"It's alright," she says. "It's my own fault, I guess, for not studying harder."
"Will you be returning to the university in the spring?"
"I think so."
"I'm very glad to hear that. I will be teaching the same course that semester, and I would be quite happy to extend you extra help in getting through it. You have already been exposed to some of the material, so it should be easier on a second time through."
"That's nice of you to offer, but I'll just have to see."
"Of course. I beg your pardon, I don't mean to pry, but is that your car out front?"
"Yes," she nods. "They found it—" She stops, as though uncertain whether this is something she should be discussing with a relative stranger. "They found it yesterday."
"I suppose the police are making headway in their investigation?"
"They're finally starting to investigate," Mrs. Vredenburg says waspishly.
"Well, that's good. I thought they'd be more on the ball."
You make some more chit-chat, because you want to see Cindy come in and see if she sets off the "golem detector," but eventually you run out of excuses and leave.
Your delay was well-timed, however, for you meet her coming up the walk; a car is just racing off, so it appears she has been dropped off. Swiftly you draw the blank mask from beneath your overcoat and press it to her face, then drag her unconscious into a shadow where she can't be seen from the front of the house. When the mask reappears you quickly leave before she can come to.
As with your visit overall, you tell yourself you're just checking up on Lucy, using the mask to confirm that Cindy has not been replaced by a golem. (Masks when placed on mask-wearers do not function properly.) But maybe you are actually planning for contingencies for after you've defeated Blackwell.
* * * * *
But that's being optimistic. There's no telling what further forms of nastiness Blackwell has unlocked with the Libras since eluding you. You are jumpy the next morning when you go in to the department; yesterday Fran was herself, but is she herself today? You avoid her while charging directly into Terrance Moser's office.
"You wanted a word with me yesterday, Moser?"
He leans back with a grimace. "I've wanted to have several words with you, Blackwell, for a very long time." He drifts from your face down to your hands; you are twiddling your fingers in a manner that looks aimless and fidgety, but which are yet very deliberate. "I took over as chair a few years ago, you know, because you said you couldn't deal with the hassle any more."
"Yes, and you've done a fine job, as I expected."
He seems to be fascinated by your fingers. "It's a tough job, but I'll tell you point blank the toughest part is dealing with you, which makes it about three times harder than when you were chair."
"I allow I'm not a shrinking violet," you say. With one hand you continue to distract him while with the other you take out the pencil flashlight and shine the beam into his face.
"You're not a plant of any kind," he says. The words continue to come as you swing the light back and forth, but they lose their emotion and character, and become slurred. "You're a grizzly bear, Blackwell, a grizzly bear in the garden."
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said you're ... a ... grizz ..."
You shut his office door, then hurry around to grasp his brow. Nothing happens; he is the authentic pain in the ass.
You bend near his ear and mutter in a low voice. "I've grown much more powerful in the time since you've taken over as chair, Terrance. You are afraid of me. Very, very afraid of me. You can call me names and you can complain about me bitterly. But you will not cross me and you will not plot against me. Because you are terrified of what I will do to you." You wave your hand in front of his face, and he nods.
Satisfied, you return to your spot and snap your fingers. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Terrance," you say in a cold, firm voice. "But do you plan to do anything about it?"
He gapes, and then he quails a little bit. He swallows uncertainly, and shrugs. "Just ... just carry on, Blackwell," he says, and dismisses you with a nervous wave of the hand.
* * * * *
That leaves the football player and Freeman. You call the latter, but have to plead a busy schedule and arrange to meet him for coffee at five. You track down the former at a house that is full of other loud guys. He tells them to shut up while you talk.
"I said I one of my colleagues was very impressed with your work in his class, Mr. Farmer, and I wanted to encourage you to stop by my office to discuss your becoming an archaeology major."
There's a pause, and then a snicker, and then his voice becomes very muffled; all you can make out is the phrase "some asshole professor." He comes back on and asks when.
"This afternoon?"
"I got practice. How about ... I dunno, later this week?"
You hang up. Blackwell's golem would be much more eager to meet you. That leaves Freeman.
* * * * *
You hurry home to pick up a few things that you might need while dealing with him, and are surprised—and then pleased—to see a strange car out front, and the front door open. You go quietly in, and find Jack Freeman standing in the doorway leading into the library. He is rooted to the spot, and can only twist at the waist when he turns at your entrance. His expression is desperate.
"Why, Professor Freeman," you say quietly. "You seem to be rooted to the spot." He doesn't reply, and he doesn't resist as you reach up and tear his mask away. There's a ripping noise as his body distorts; buttons fly off his shirt and his trousers sag. Aubrey Blackwell stands before you. "I hope you haven't been waiting long, Professor Blackwell," you snigger. "The gwarcheidwad is not the best company."
"You're not a real magician," he mutters angrily. "You can't hold me."
"I think I am holding you, and quite easily, too. As for me not being a real magician—" You twitch aside the corner of the rug he's standing on, revealing part of the "bear trap" sigil you'd set there. "That's a little thing I designed on my own. Better than you could have come up with."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Aubrey Blackwell," you gloat.
"I mean, really."
"Wouldn't you like to know." You blow knockout powder into his face.
* * * * *
He has left a real mess for you to clean up, but he is now impotent, trapped in the basement for the moment; and after fetching the Libras from Freeman's car and recharging the Blackwell mask with his most recent memories, you feel you actually have things well in hand. The question is now what to do after you finish dealing with his mess.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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