Phil gathered her purse then, after one final inspection that this glamour—or whatever she called it—was safely containing the red, we trekked down four flights of stairs to get to the parking garage beneath the building. Once we pulled onto the streets of Worcester, I instantly got my bearings. Two more turns and we passed Papa’s gym and entered the Canal District.
Gary drove a little more cautiously than usual, while Phil lounged in the back seat. If I didn’t have an itchy enchanted wig stuck to my skull, it could have passed for a boring weeknight errand run.
“Oh, to answer your question from earlier, dearie, fairies are real, but they’re more Brother’s Grimm than Tinkerbell. Most of the fae like to remain hidden, and if you do have the misfortune of meeting them, never trust their hospitality. Right, Gare-bear?”
“Trying to focus on the road here,” Gary snapped.
“Do I want to know?” I asked.
“My Gary has a thing for fae girls.” Phil punctuated her statement with a husky laugh.
Poor Gary’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. I eyed the buildup of traffic on 290 and decided discretion was the better part of survival at this point. I could always ask later.
Just before we reached Justice Comics a chilling realization hit me.
“Tony . . . oh my God, Tony was supposed to come over for more anime recommendations and I wasn’t there!”
“Tony?” Phil asked.
Before I could answer, we rolled into the strip mall parking lot. In the next instant, my jaw became preoccupied with dropping to the floor as I saw me standing just outside the door. “Holy—!”
“Duck!” Phil warned as Uncle Jimmy walked into view. I slipped beneath my seatbelt and did my best to hide behind the dash.
“Holy doppelganger, Batman! I know you said I could be two places at once, but how the heck am I actually in two places at once?”
Phil leaned in between the seats. “Watch and learn.”
The back door of the car opened, and I heard my own voice call out, “Bye, Uncle Jimmy, see you tomorrow!” Jesus, was my voice really that squeaky? The other me climbed in and did a Miss America style wave to the storefront. Uncle Jimmy didn’t flinch one bit as we pulled out again.
“I must say, Philomena, your work is exquisite, as always,” Other Me said. Why did I suddenly have a British accent? “Shall we drop this little charade now that we are a safe distance?”
“I’m you and you’re me,” I finally squeaked.
Gary drove slowly around the back of the strip mall. Once hidden behind the loading dock, Phil snapped her fingers and a soft yellowish glow surrounded the other me. A magnificent, seventies-worthy mustache sprouted from “my” lip and my eyes shifted from amber to a piercing blue. Stubble sprouted from a chiseled jaw and the other me suddenly looked more at home fighting crime in Hawaii than going to high school in Massachusetts.
“Holy Hannah, I’m a dude!”
Magnum P.I. stretched out his hand and gave me a debonair smile. “Julius Blademore, at your service, milady.” Rather than give me a hearty handshake, he took my hand and kissed it. Wow, he must condition that mouth-hat of his. The bristles caressed my skin, feeling all tingly. “I’m ever so glad to finally meet the charming lady that I’ve had the honor of impersonating all evening.”
“You . . . you can be me?”
“I’ve trained for years in the arts of espionage and deception, my dear. If I can’t play a teenage girl at a comic shop, then I’m not worth my salt, am I?”
“You’re a spy? Wait, Julius . . . British . . . arcane knowledge and all that. Oh my God, is the rock-star-assassin impersonating me?”
“Bingo!” Phil said with an excited round of applause. “We couldn’t just leave him to the vampires after we worked our mojo. He has a rather unique skillset, one we’d be foolish to waste. Now, Jules, would you mind setting the poor girl’s mind to ease? Did anyone stop by looking for her?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” he said, pulling a little notebook out of his pocket. Row upon row of scribbles filled the pages. He stuck out his tongue slightly as he flipped to the end. “There was a young man, a Tony Castorini. I made a few inquiries on him after he left, but surprisingly little came up.”
“Tony saw you . . . err me? What happened? What did he say? If I see him at school tomorrow, what did I recommend? Tell me!” The heat rose, and I could smell the fake hair atop my head starting to sizzle. I took a deep breath. This was no reason to panic just because I missed a super important conversation with the hottest quarterback our school had ever known.
Julius scratched his chin and nodded at his notes. “Ah yes, my—your—recommendation. I suggested the sushi restaurant at the far end of the mall. Seemed convenient and your uncle likewise offered his encouragement. Turns out the theater in Marlborough will be running a screening of Spirited Away this Friday, so we settled upon dinner and a movie. Mr. Castorini will pick you up from the store at five PM sharp. If you have any questions, I can certainly go into more detail, but I am happy to report that I was able to, as you teenagers say, seal the deal.”
No words. There were no words left in my brain. Forget flaming hair, a thirty-something dude wearing my skin had just done the impossible—landed me a date with Tony Castorini.
Chapter Nine: Everything’s Fine
It’s amazing how difficult it can be to focus on school when your brain is stuffed full of vampires and wizards. The wig wasn’t helping either. The longer the enchanted pins poked into my scalp, the more defiant my hair seemed to become. I had to schedule a bathroom run between each period just to tuck any disobedient strands back under the mesh.
“Parents freak out?” I looked up from my study period to see my Goth classmate giving me a sympathetic look.
“Something like that,” I replied with a shrug.
“Bummer. That hair was badass.”
She kept on talking, but all I did was nod and smile. After a few pointed rounds of “mmmhmm’s,” Goth girl got the hint and I managed to scribble a little more into my binder.
Once the bell rang, I collected three, “aww, you dyed it backs,” two “dayums,” and a refreshing, “oh, thank goodness, you look better as a brunette” in my trek towards fourth period.
Fourth period! My heart pounded in my chest as I felt fresh heat rising from my head. Tony was waiting outside the classroom. Why?! Oh, wait. His third period class was next door. Yeah, I knew his schedule as well as mine, but that didn’t make me a stalker. At least that’s my story and I’m . . . totally zoning out and digressing while the hunky quarterback is staring at me.
“Earth to Jessie.”
Make the words, please make the coherent word things, Jessie. Go on, you can do it. I raised my trusty southpaw and gave a teensy wave.
Tony raised a brow and imitated me. “I think we got past the hellos last night.”
Words . . . all gone. What are words really if one’s mouth cannot form them? Mayhaps I should spend the rest of my days as a mute, for I doubted there were that many left for me—what with an ubervamp coming for my shiny hiney.
“You okay? You seem a little out of it. Oh here, let me help. You missed a spot.” Tony leaned in and reached for a rogue strand of wig hair peeking around my earlobe. He tucked it back in place, letting his hand caress my cheek for the barest of moments. And now I can die happy. “Are you wearing a wig?”
I thought my head might explode from all the heat in my face, but I somehow found the strength to use my words. “My hair, um, turned out way brighter than I expected. Dad kinda freaked. So . . . this is until things cool down a little.” Which will never happen if you keep standing so close!
“Yeah, it’s kind of bright, but it’s really awesome, too—” The bell cut Tony off. Without another word, he stepped to the side and held the door open for me, like a perfect gentleman. And that was all I remembered for the next hour or so, a blissful daydream free of ubervamps and shiny people.
♦ ♦ �
��
“Just who the hell do you think you are, you little bitch?” a snide voice asked from behind me as I tried to focus on lunch.
“Jessie Flores,” I offered up nonchalantly. “That’s what it says on my learner’s permit.” I knew that voice . . . Lindsey fricking Stallings, but I’d be damned if I would give her the satisfaction of facing her. Polite conversation was strictly reserved in my book for human beings, and possibly well-behaved supernatural beings now that I knew of their existence. Last I checked, psycho hose-beasts did not make the cut.
“You think you’re so fucking hilarious, don’t you?” Lindsey stomped around my table, her wedges clunking against the linoleum. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and stared, trying to be intimidating but doing little more than making me wonder if she’d applied her mascara with a paint roller.
“Only on days ending in Y,” I replied sweetly. Oh my, she actually had to stop and think about that one. I’d never noticed before, but she was more like the vexed comic relief in an anime than an actual person. Good luck trying to get me to take her seriously now.
“You think a little Day-Glo-Ho job is gonna be enough, Backdoor Jess? Mark my words, skank, you’d better lay off Tony or you’re gonna regret the moment you decided to play ginger bitch.”
“You mean Tony Castorini, as in the same Tony Castorini I have a date with on Friday and you don’t?” It was more sniping than I really wanted to spare her way, but then she had to go and use that stupid nickname. It was on.
Lindsey took a deep breath and curled her brightly painted lips into an unpleasant smile. “So, this is how it’s going to be?”
“Looks like it.” I returned her obnoxious grin with one of my own.
How the heck word of my sudden luck with the quarterback got out and in the general population, I may never know, but that could probably be attested to my tendency to avoid social media these days. For all I knew, my doppelganger had posted a live vid.
Lindsey’s smile changed to something more sinister. “You’d better watch your step, or you’re gonna end up in deeper shit than you can imagine.”
I’m destined to fight a legendary vampire. I think I can handle you. “Whatever makes you feel better about yourself, Lindsey, more power to you.”
My would-be adversary rolled her eyes. Guess I should probably get used to the concept of having adversaries. Lindsey was the first to break our little Mexican standoff. She scrunched her nose and sniffed before stomping back towards her crew at the popular table. Wait for it, last words incoming. . .
“You were warned.”
“Really?” I muttered under my breath. This was the caliber of nemesis I had to deal with? Still, she must’ve gotten to me more than I wanted to admit because my ears were burning. After a moment, I realized that wasn’t merely an exaggeration. Oh crap, they were literally burning! Stupid enchanted hairpins.
I spent the back half of lunch readjusting my hairpiece in the handicap stall. Mercifully, a few minutes of peace seemed to appease my demon hair, and the rest of the afternoon passed in relative normalcy.
♦ ♦ ♦
I shot a standard check-in text to my dad, then scrolled past a wall of words from Gary, checking to see if Tony had sent me anything. Nada. Damn it all!
Wait. Did he even know my number? Seems like something you’d get off someone you had a date with. Unless, it wasn’t my number he had.
I probably shouldn’t have been so lost in my own little world, because just as I was about to step off the curb on my way to Justice Comics, an Audi screeched to a halt directly in front of me, missing me by mere inches.
“Hey! Watch it. . .” The words died in my throat as I saw the familiar faces looking at me from within.
“Didn’t you get my texts?” Gary asked, rolling down the window.
“I was just about to read them.” I slid into the back and, sure enough, my identical twin was there waiting in the back seat. “Um, should we be seen together?”
“I took the liberty of glamouring the car,” Phil replied, inching her seat forward so I got some legroom. “You’re invisible back there.”
Of course. Why not?
“Hi,” Other Me said with a salute. I sounded rather weird with an English accent. “Any homework you want me to take care of while you’re training?”
“Um, I have a paper to outline. Wait, training?”
“If only we had these things called phones with which to get messages from,” Gary said snidely.
“Sorry.”
“You need to focus on your training,” Other Me said, grabbing hold of my backpack. “My job is to take care of everything else.”
“Don’t worry. Julius is a real pro,” Phil explained.
“But—”
“We gave you a day to let this all sink in. Now it’s time for your real education to begin.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that, but okay, I guess I’ll come along.” It wasn’t like they couldn’t kidnap me at will anyway. “So, um, Julius, my English assignment is in my bag alongside—”
My doppelganger held up her . . . his phone and my eyes widened at the sight of all my assignments for this week, including a few that I don’t think had even been handed out yet. “H-How?” I stammered.
“I’ve hacked the Pentagon, my dear child. Your school was a trifle easier.”
“Not cool.”
“Relax. It’s all for the cause. I’ll take care of your paper on Dante and work ahead for Calculus and Physics.”
“Slightly more cool,” I replied, flopping back onto the leather seat. Slowly, I reached over and poked at Other Me’s arm. The flannel certainly felt like mine, and his arm didn’t stick out further than I would’ve expected. “Weird.”
Phil turned around. “It’s a complex illusion. The magic overloads the senses of the audience. Rather than him changing into you, per se, the perception of him becomes that of you. If that makes any sense at all.”
“Not really.” I leaned over. “Wow, you even smell like me.”
“It’s like how dear Philomena explained,” Julius replied. “I smell like you assume I should smell. It’s all in your head, your preconceived notions filling in the blanks. It really is remarkable, is it not? The act of observation actually changes the outcome.”
I watched as the other me typed something on his phone, reminding me what I’d been thinking right before almost being run over.
“Who are you texting?”
“That boy from last night, of course. Not to worry. I have the matter well in hand.”
“Phrasing, really,” I deadpanned. “Look, if you’re going to imitate me, I need to know what you’re saying, so I don’t blow our cover.”
My tactic seemed to resonate with the other me. Score one point for OG Jessie. He nodded. “Fear not. I’ll provide a full report and transcript. Most of today’s conversation revolved around a discussion of one Spike Spiegel and his inevitable pathos. Naturally I adjusted my tone to sound more youthful and less intellectual.”
“So, you dumbed it down?”
“In a manner of speaking. Though I must admit, your dizzying array of pop culture knowledge does exceed my own, for now. I’ll have that remedied by end of week. Thank goodness for the Spell of the Sphinx.”
“Ix-nay on the ell-spray talk,” Phil replied. “After all, she needs to crawl before she can walk.”
“I can understand Pig Latin, you know. Sphinx, huh? Does that have something to do with riddles?”
“Cognitive absorption, actually. A careful application of magic can enhance a magi’s ability to assimilate new data,” Other Me droned in a dreadfully know-it-all tone. I wondered if this was how I sounded when explaining the life of Jean Grey.
“Let me guess, Other Me knows all this because you cast it on her . . . err, him. Am I close?”
Phil turned and smiled broadly. “Not exactly. Enhancement magic is just that—it amplifies what the recipient can already do. It simply makes you better at what you’
re good at. Before you ask, it’s not a long-term substitute for hard work, but if you put in the time, it can make you—”
“More human than human?” I offered. “So, is there some whammy spell that will help me go from zero to Buffy lickety-split?”
Phil’s smile tightened, while Gary chose that moment to be laser focused on the road. Why did I suddenly have the feeling that I was missing something?
“It’s not that simple,” she finally said. “Our archives tell us that a Shining One’s power doesn’t always play nice with our magic. We already saw that last night with that glamour I tried to cast. Truth be told, I’m surprised those hair clips haven’t burnt out by now.”
“Oh.” I subconsciously reached up and touched the wig still atop my head.
Phil then nodded towards her nephew. “However, just because we can’t enhance you doesn’t mean we can’t give you a temporary sparring buddy.”
“Excuse me?” Gary asked as we pulled into the parking lot.
“Don’t worry, chap,” Other Me said cheerfully. “The magic will be doing most of the work. As for you,” Julius turned my way. “Good luck on your training.”
I turned my attention to Gary, “So, training . . . and maybe some answers?”
“Of course,” he replied, though I didn’t quite feel the conviction in his words.
Chapter Ten: The Blessing of What?
“We totally need a magical training montage.”
“Excuse me?” Gary asked.
“You know. Like in the movies.” I waved him toward me, Matrix style.
He gave me an incredulous look from his place on the floor. “Magic can do a lot of things, but it can’t condense all your training into a single cut scene with you being a master by the end of a power ballad.”
“Dang nab it, and here I was hoping that ‘Eye of the Tiger’ would save me heaps of trouble.”
He was lying in a heap on some yoga mats in Phil’s place. She’d suggested I try fighting Gary after she’d whammied him with an enhancement spell, but even rusty, I’d put him down with minimum effort. “But maybe it wasn’t all a waste. I’m still feeling fresh. And I think it’s all coming back to me. Pretty sure I started remembering all sorts of moves I haven’t done in a long time. Want to go again?”
Second String Savior Page 8
