Chapter #68Nerves, Good and Bad by: Seuzz   "Would you like to get coffee some time?" you ask Frank.
"I'd love to," he says. His smile widens, and he bends his face toward yours. "Like, right now?" he asks in a low voice.
"Well, I can't do it now," you stammer. "Not right now. I've got an errand I've got to— In an hour, maybe?"
"In an hour, then," he says, and takes out his cell phone. "What's your number? So I can call you in case you forget."
"I won't forget."
"Then in case something comes up."
"Something won't come up." You curse at the blush you feel spreading from your bosom to your bangs. Why do you have to keep babbling nonsensically as he stares at you with such intensity and obvious interest?
"Maybe not on your end," he says. "But I might have something come up." There's a slightly ironic lilt in his tone.
"Really?"
"Just let me have your number. I need it anyway, if I'm going to practice with you guys."
So you give him Mary's number. He lingers a few more seconds, letting his smile twitch a little as he devours you with a very hungry gaze. You have to splash some cold water on your face after he's gone.
Now for that errand. You've got to get rid of that mask Hyde-White sent you.
No, first you've got to alert him that Frank is in Cambridge. You whip out the phone—
And freeze. You just gave this cell number to Frank. What if they've got Hyde-White's phone under some kind of occult surveillance, and they notice that "Mary Dunsdale" calls him? Better to go see him in person.
But if he's under surveillance, the only thing worse than Mary Dunsdale calling him would be Mary Dunsdale showing up to see him.
You hesitate long and hard. Maybe it's not such a risk. Hyde-White has offices in the big medical building, where Mary often has business. There's an excuse for being in the area. And you could take care of two necessary errands if—
You tuck the new mask under your sweater and peek out your door, looking both ways. The coast seems to be clear. You hop lightly across the hallway and knock rapidly at Grace's door. The girl moves so quietly that the door's opening completely startles you. But you probably don't look any more startled than she does.
"Hi neighbor," you gasp. "I just need to borrow your face a moment." You shove the mask at her head so fast and hard that she flies back several feet and falls onto the floor. You leap next to her and feel at her, but there doesn't appear to be any serious damage to her head.
In fact, there doesn't appear to be any damage at all. Not a bump or a cut or anything. You scramble back to shut her door, then pace the cramped room while waiting for the mask to come back out.
For a few minutes you worry that maybe it didn't actually go into her. You didn't see it go into her, after all.
No, that's just your nerves talking.
How are you going to explain this to her when you see her again? That attack was your nerves again, you think. You were so panicked by Frank's appearance that you let him stampede you into this impossible ambush. You'll never be able to explain your action to Grace.
Maybe you don't have to. It doesn't really concern you. Not you, Will Prescott. In a week or so, if things go well, you'll be out of Dunsdale's life, and Dunsdale will have to deal with whatever sequel there is to this attack. And if things go badly—
And with Frank around, things could go very badly very quickly.
Well, if things go badly, Grace will be the least of your worries. In fact, when you tell Hyde-White about it, he might immediately pull you out.
The thought cheers you. In fact, maybe you should call him right now, using Grace's phone. You start searching for it.
But before you can find it, you see the bluish glow of the emerging mask. You snatch it up and hastily return to your own rooms, where you lock the door and put out the light and retreat into the bathroom. And as you seal up the mask, it comes to you how to get it to the professor along with a warning about Frank, and to get them to him without being detected.
* * * * *
You clutch the bundle tightly to your chest and hurry through the streets and squares of Cambridge with a burning face, hoping no one sees you. Praying, even, that no one sees you, for a little prayer-like chant keeps running through your head. It would be a prayer if it were sincere, and if you were really Grace Simpson the chant would be sincere. But you're not Grace Simpson, which doesn't stop her mind and personality from slapping at you hard. You awful boy, you terrible sinner, you're going to HELL for what you've done and what you're doing now, she tells you.
You duck your head and pick up the pace. Using Grace Simpson's face to scuttle from Wyndham to Hyde-White's office isn't the worst thing you've done, but it may turn out to be the stupidest. It will be very easy for you to fuck up, for you don't just have Grace Simpson's thoughts upbraiding you, you've got her distraught nerves as well. What if you get caught by the real girl? Did she leave her room after you jumped her? Is she out here someplace, gaping in horror at this twin she has acquired? What if you run into Frank or Joe?
Your heart hammers.
And then there's the outfit you're wearing. Oh, this is terrible, so terrible. You clutch the package more tightly to yourself, and with head down try willing yourself into invisibility. Grace is rather taller than Mary, and differently built, so that Mary's jeans and slacks couldn't possibly fit her. So you're wearing a skirt, and since Mary likes to flash thigh, it's a short skirt that slaps very high against the thighs of the long-legged Grace Simpson. That's why you so desperately clutch the box containing Mary's mask with both hands: It's to stop you from tugging down a skirt that you're convinced is flashing your cotton panties to every pervert at Cambridge with every puff of wind. Your face burns, burns, oh how it burns!
You're sniffling long before the medical building comes into view, and it's not from the cold whipping across your bare legs.
And to think, after you'd gotten Mary's mask off, you'd eyed Grace's with a certain greedy anticipation. A leggy redhead, eh? you'd gloated a little to yourself, and now with Grace's personality inside you, you shudder at the thought of that spotty, bristle-faced little pervert entertaining himself by coveting Grace's body. That's what it is, covetousness! Oh, you evil, evil boy!
You almost bump into the front door of the building, for in your shame and mortification you've not been closely watching where you're going. Also, you're nearly blind without Grace's glasses.
Inside, it proves a four-story, three-dimensional maze, and even after you've got onto the right floor you keep getting turned around, for the numbering system on the doors doesn't seem to make sense. If 423 is at an intersection of two hallways, why does one hallway continue with 415 and the other with 456? Grace's mother warned her that there was much wickedness at Cambridge, but she couldn't have guessed that the wickedness would even encompass the numbering system.
So baffled, blinded and buffeted, you don't pay close attention to where you are going, with the consequence that you are upon and then through a shadowy figure before you realize it. Grace's instincts kick in fast, and you half turn to make a timid apology.
It freezes in your mouth as the figure turns, showing a wide face topped with a thatch of blonde hair, from under which shine blue eyes. He seems to look through you, and only when a little squeak escapes your throat do they seem to sharpen and see you. Joe Durras stares at you a moment, then cocks his head and shines a beguiling smile at you.
You turn and flee without stopping to find the professor.
* * * * *
You make it to your room in time to change back into Mary's mask before Frank shows up. But you're still breathless when you open the door for him. "Are you okay?" he asks.
"Oh, I'm just— I rushed back here, you know, to be on time." You feel yourself crimsoning all over. Why is it that when he's around you keep blurting out things that make you sound like a middle school girl with the world's nastiest crush?
"I think it's decaf for you, then," he says with a light laugh. "Where are we going?"
But you've still got a chance to back out. "Actually, I rushed back because I had to tell you—"
Grace comes around the corner, and now your flush turns to pallor as she catches sight of you. A black look of hatred crosses her face, but she says nothing. Frank follows your gaze and turns to look at her, but she ignores him as she presses past to fumble at her door.
"What was that about?" Frank asks when she's gone.
"We just don't get along," you mutter. And after seeing Grace, you decide you'd rather get away from your room in case she comes knocking or something. "So, there's a Starbucks close to Christ's College," you tell Frank.
"Is that what you rushed back to tell me?"
"No. I meant— Never mind." Again, your face reddens. Frank laughs, and touches your elbow lightly to pull you out into the hall.
Shit crap fuck, you think to yourself as you walk out of Wyndham in his company. You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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