"Scott? Buddy?" you call out to your friend. "I think we're pushing our luck here. We got everything we need—"
"We need the book!"
Jesus, it's like he's obsessed, you think.
"It's not here, man!", you yell from the entrance to the library. "We looked everyplace!"
"Except down there." Scott stares into the secret passage behind the bookshelf. Then he takes a step, and disappears behind it.
You curse and run over to catch him. You bump into him, almost knocking him down, for he's hesitating at the top of the stairs, and shining his flashlight over the dirty cellar floor below.
"Scott!" You grasp him by the arm. "We gotta move that stuff out to your truck. We can't waste any more time! Look!", you exclaim as he descends onto the top step. "The professor had all his notes and shit upstairs in that attic. You think he'd keep his shit up there and keep the book down here?"
"Then where is it?" Scott says. "It wasn't up there."
"I dunno, maybe he took it work with him! But we don't want to get caught out here! We got all his notes, we got all his shit. Let's get out of here!"
Still Scott hesitates, then takes another step down the staircase. "You start moving stuff to the truck", he says. "I'll check down here."
But there is something horrible down there. You can feel it. It's more than just your fear that Blackwell will return and catch you. It's like there's a clammy mist rising from the dank darkness below. Something frightening is down there, crouching in wait for you.
And maybe Scott feels it too, for still he hesitates on that second stair.
"Scott!" You grab him by the arm. "Taylor! You don't want to take any chances! Why are we doing this? Remember? We're doing all this to get that mask off your face, so you can see your family again! You won't see them again if Blackwell catches you!"
"I can't get it off if we don't get that book."
"We don't know that! I'm only guessing that it's got the magic words or incantation or whatever in it! Besides, we've got Blackwell's notes. If there is a magic word, there's a good chance he scribbled it down in that notebook! Come on!" You tug at him — it's like pulling at a brick wall — and lick your lips. "Blackwell knows Lucy is gone. He's boarded up the window." You grip him harder. "What if it's a trap?"
Scott wavers, then relents, and pushes you up and out into the library again. He is very pale, and there's a feverish fire in his eyes. But when he pushes the secret door shut behind him, it cuts and kills that vapor of fear. Now you just feel antsy about wanting to get out.
Together you grab up the garbage bags in the foyer. And as you open the front door, a great tumult breaks out somewhere upstairs, like a cabinet of china and cutlery has fallen over. As you dash down the front path, a high, screeching chittering rises behind you, and a hard wind kicks up. The gate bangs shut in your faces, but Scott wrenches it open, and the two of you run out.
The wind dies on the other side of the wall, leaving you blinking in sunshine.
You don't pause to wonder at the sudden change, but hightail it to Scott's truck. You hurl the spoils of your raid into the back and peel out.
Half a mile down the road, you pass another car heading the other way. You duck down when you see it, for it's the twin of the car you saw parked in front of the professor's house.
When you sit back up again, Scott pushes down on the accelerator. "Will", he says. "Remind me never again to question your gut instincts."
--
"Lucy?" you call as you enter the school basement. "It's just us, you can come out!" You hold up at the top of the wooden stairs, lest she leap out and cosh you across the temple with a crowbar.
There's a stir from the other end of the basement, and the girl steps out. She is very wan, and her hair is dirty and stringy. But— God, you think, she looks great even in Mom's clothes.
"Oh, thank God you're alright", she gasps, and rushes for you. A grin spreads across your face—
—until she pushes you aside to throw herself at Scott. You feel your expression crater, and you avert your eyes, to concentrate instead on dumping your load onto the conference table while the other two murmur at each other. You do your best to ignore them as you unpack the sack, and you're halfway through sorting it all out before Scott joins you to dump out the rest of the spoils.
Lucy joins you too, and she makes a face as she studies the strange instruments and the plastic containers you are spreading out. But with a stifled gasp she grabs the notebook. "I thought you said you couldn't find it!" she tells Scott.
"We couldn't", he replies. "That's just a notebook."
"But it's practically as good as the original", you boast as you pull it from Lucy's grasp. "It's got Blackwell's own notes in it. And we got all the shit he was using to make masks and stuff. Plus—!" You pull out the mask you found in the bedroom. "We got one of his toys!"
Lucy stares at you. Then she explodes.
"I thought you were trying to stop him!", she yells. "How does this—? You're just going to make more of that stuff?"
You recoil. "No! We are trying to stop him! Without this stuff he can't—"
"Lucy," Scott says. He draws up close to her. "We're doing our best. We were this close to get caught. But we did him some damage. It’ll take time before he can recover.”
He puts his arm around her and tugs the unwilling girl to the far side of the room. You duck your head and try not to seethe as they fall back into that soft, murmured conversation. On the one hand you're glad that Scott —Taylor — is on hand to handle Lucy and her moods. But on the other hand, if it was just you and her— Well, wouldn't she be as grateful to you as she apparently is to Scott?
Don't ask that question, a little voice inside you says. You wouldn't like the answer.
Instead, you finish sorting out the stuff you grabbed, then settled down to give the notebook a closer going-over.
--
“Alright. Hold still.” You awkwardly grasp Scott’s face; he tenses and you back off, then resettle your hand over his face as he closes his eyes. You glance at the open notebook on the nearby table, and read off some weird words in Latin that you’re unsure if you’re even pronouncing correctly.
It's a cryptic phrase that was written in the margins of the first spell and underlined three times, so it is obviously important. Beside it, Blackwell has added the note 3x whilst gripping face. The latter sure sounds like what you'd do if removing a magical mask.
But nothing happens when you try it. You feel Scott's frustration—literally, a stiffening of his face muscles—as the third time, then the fourth, fifth, seventh, eleventh, and fifteenth times fail to work the charm. You break off long enough to flex your hand, which is cramping. "No dice", you sigh.
“Try harder!”
“Well, whaddya think I’m doing?” You try it one more time, and the mask doesn’t pry off. Frustrated, you back off, and scowl at the notebook once more. “Maybe I’m holding your face wrong, or mispronouncing the words.”
“Then keep trying!”
"Taylor", Lucy says in a soft voice. Now it's her turn to calm him down. "It's alright. You guys will get it."
"But not tonight", you say, and Scott's eyes pop with anger. "Look, I have to get home. It's almost time for dinner. But I'll take this back with me", you add as you tuck the notebook under your arm, "and we'll get together tomorrow. morning. Here?" you offer, trying to placate the red-faced Scott. "And we'll try it again. I promise, we're not going to give up!"
Scott mutters but agrees, and you part for the night.
You groan when you pull up into your driveway, for Robert is waiting there with folded arms. "Where the fuck were you?" he demands as you get out of your truck. "If you're trying to fuck me over on our deal—"
"I'm not trying to! I had stuff to do!"
"With that shit I helped you save from the garbage?"
You don't answer. Robert sees you hesitate, and goes for the jugular.
"You promised, Will! If you don't want me to tell dad—!"
You can't stop yourself from flinching. Bad enough if you get in trouble with your dad for making off with the stuff he threw out. But Blackwell probably suspects you have something to do with the break-ins at his house. Even if he hasn't done something to your dad, he might call your house and sic your father on you. If, on top of that, Robert tells your dad what you did, you would be in the deepest, deepest pile of shit in your life.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author