The Props Master 1 Ritual RealityChapter 21 Summons
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The Props Master 1: Ritual RealityChapter 2: Midnight Caper free porn video
Judith tucked her hair up under the short black wig until no blonde strands could be seen. She positioned the black broad-brimmed hat on her head and fastened the cape neatly around her black bodystocking, its red silk lining adding the only color accent to her costume. The cape also served to cover the black shoulder bag that was slung behind her. Finally, she fastened her rapier to the belt.
This was her third date with Wayne in two weeks—a kind of dating speed record in her experience. The first date had been the cast party on opening night. The second was Wednesday for ‘Brown County Day,’ when the entire school took a day off to go play in the woods at the state park near Bloomington. She’d ridden the sixty miles on the back of his motorcycle with her arms wrapped around him. They’d held hands all day as they walked through the park and on the return trip she’d made sure her hands were kept warm under his leather jacket. Of course, she didn’t count the group outings after the show each night when they went to the Waffle House or the TeePee. Nor did she count meeting in the lobby of the dorm to study together or to walk to class in the morning. Perhaps it was odd to have a date on Thursday night, but tonight was Halloween and they were going to a theatre costume party.
She turned toward the door and then turned back. One more thing. She knotted the black mask over her eyes. She had designed it so that a corner could be pulled down to fairly cover her entire face. That would come later.
The knock at her dorm room door was perfectly timed. She opened it to Wayne, who stood gaping at what he saw. She was pleased with his response.
“You are gorgeous!” he exclaimed. “Zorro never looked so good.”
“Who is Zorro?” she asked.
“The Spanish noble who put on a mask and cape and took on all the Mexican injustices in the California territory. Isn’t that what your costume is?”
“No. It’s the Highwayman, from the poem by Noyes,” she answered.
“I thought the Highwayman was a dandy in scarlet and doeskin!” he said.
“Poetic license. He dresses in what makes him look good and so do I.”
“No kidding! That is...” Wayne paused while he looked her over carefully. Very carefully. “That is really sexy.”
“Now, let me guess you.” She walked around him, giving him just as thorough a once-over. He was resplendent in a gold lamé tunic. He wore gold tights and sandals. He did look good in tights. He had an ivy wreath in his hair and carried a strange stringed instrument beneath his arm.
“You must be an angel with that harp,” she said, pointing at it.
“Lyre.”
“Am not.”
“No, this is. A musical instrument of the ancient Greeks.”
“Hah! Gave it away. Apollo,” she guessed.
Yes, said the supreme shape,
Thou hast dream’d of me; and awaking up
Didst find a lyre all golden by thy side,
Whose strings touch’d by thy fingers, all the vast
Unwearied ear of the whole universe
Listen’d in pain and pleasure at the birth
Of such new tuneful wonder.
“From the Keats poem I’m doing for this paper. It’s great, don’t you think?”
“Fantastic. I should have known,” she answered. “I think I’ll still call you my angel.” Actually, she did know. Wayne had taken her hint to analyze Keats’s use of mythological imagery in his fragment “Hyperion” and thought the idea had come from Dr. Allen when he quoted a line from Hamlet. It was a good idea, she justified to herself. She was taking advantage of the situation, not really using him. He would do very well on his paper and never mention to anyone that she had suggested it.
And tonight, she would see to it that he could find the appropriate references. That made her edgy. Judith was more than she appeared to be and had learned her craft from some of Britain’s finest teachers. They could never have anticipated how she intended to use it.
The party was all theatre people who had access in one way or another to resources of costumes and make-up. The result featured characters from plays that had been performed over the years at the college. There were also a good number of people who had set their imaginations loose to develop costumes that were out of this world.
It didn’t take long before the party was swinging. There was plenty of food and lots of music. In passing a closed door, Judith could smell that there were things more exotic than beer available as well. To each his own. It didn’t seem that she had to worry about Wayne. He never made a move toward the room, but was quite the attentive date. For her part, she made a show of getting fresh beers frequently. Each, however, she would take a careful sip from and conveniently lose.
As the evening wore on, the party mellowed out and the group sat around telling ghost stories. Judith tipped her head against Wayne’s shoulder and looked up at him.
“I think I’ve had too much to drink,” she said. “I’m feeling rather squiffy.”
“Oh god!” he answered, suddenly alert to her needs and remembering how many beers he’d seen her open. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Oooo. I hate to ruin your night,” she moaned.
“No, no. Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Here, lean against me. Okay?”
“Would you take me home?”
“Sure. Can you stand the ride?”
“I’ll make it. But I think I’d better go.”
“Okay.”
“Sure you aren’t mad at me?”
“Hell, no. This ghost story stuff always freaks me out anyway,” Wayne confessed. “Much rather take you home. The fresh air will do us both good.”
It was just after eleven when they reached the dorm. She leaned heavily on him as they walked in. The dorm monitor at the desk carefully turned his head away as they signed in. As long as they weren’t disorderly, he wasn’t going to turn them in as drunk, even though it was obvious.
Wayne walked Judith to the door of the women’s wing and then paused. She tilted her head toward him, and for the first time their lips touched. Talk about electric. Judith almost forgot she was supposed to be sick.
She broke away from him suddenly and looked him straight in the eye.
“Can you hold that thought till later?” she said.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Like tomorrow?” she asked.
“Okay.”
“Good.” She covered her mouth, turned and bolted through the door to the women’s wing. Wayne started after her to help, but it was after hours and the dorm monitor was glaring at him now. He turned and went slowly to his own room.
Judith didn’t even slow down at her room. She continued right on past and out the back doors. She had jimmied the alarm earlier and set the doors so she could get back in. With a quick check to see that it was still set, she hurried out into the cool night air.
Samhain—last spoke of the wheel of the year. She wished she could take even a short step between the worlds tonight, but it simply wasn’t possible. Wayne had already started his research in the library. She wouldn’t have another chance without being obvious. She wrapped her cape around her and hurried on, keeping to the shadows—just another kid in a Halloween costume.
She had spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights during performances of Hamlet prowling the Academic Building, timing security guards, and locating the most vulnerable entry and exit routes. When she reached the building, she pulled down the mask to cover the rest of her face. Tonight, she was a shadow—part of a nether world that to most people did not exist.
No one bothered to check for vulnerabilities on the slightly elevated main level and Judith had discovered a casement window with a broken ratchet. Four feet beneath the window, she paused to center herself. There were lights on this side of the building illuminating the stainless steel letters on its side. Indianapolis City University—ICU. She cringed at the idea. Tonight, she wanted to be seen by no one.
Eventually satisfied that no one could see her, she jumped. Her hands found the window ledge and she hoisted herself up, hooking a small jimmy beneath the casement window and swinging it open. She dove through the opening into the library, pulling the window closed behind her. She stood there catching her breath and reached to straighten her mask and hat. It was gone. Looking out the window, she saw the hat she had forgotten to secure lying in the bushes.
“Blast it!” she whispered. Well, she’d just have to pick it up on the way out. She shut the window and turned toward the interior of the library. She’d done her share of library research in the past week and didn’t need to use her flashlight until she reached the card catalogue. Interpreting the Dewey Decimal system and cross-referencing her entry had been the most difficult part of her task. She had taken blank cards from the back of a drawer, carefully dipped them in tea to turn them brown and old-looking, and had typed the information on one of the free manual typewriters in the library. The electrics cost ten cents for ten minutes. Now she quickly placed the entries in the main card catalogue.
That was the easy part. The real task was about to begin. The Rare Books and Manuscripts Collection was on the third floor behind locked doors with a new electronic alarm system. She had been at the library the moment it opened three days in a row. Luckily, she had a good ear for tones and was certain that she had the disarming sequence down pat. If not, her caper—and her study visa—would end quickly.
The key she stole earlier in the week made getting into the room easy, but when she opened the door she saw the red flashing light to her left. Forty-five seconds to touch the right keys in the right order. One error or one second late and the alarms would go off. The panel was shaped like the keys of a touchtone telephone. The tones were the same. She had practiced the four-note sequence over and over on the payphone in the dorm lobby. Now her hand was shaking as she pressed the keys. The red light went out, the green came on. She was clear.
Her plan was simple. Rebecca Allen had been given a task that endangered her life and anyone else’s she involved in it. It had been Judith’s fault. If she had not challenged Rebecca’s nomination as high priestess of Coven Carles, the door would not have been opened for the power-hungry high priest to twist it into this impossible task. Judith had inadvertently led Rebecca into the middle of a power struggle, and after that night four months ago, she would never listen to Judith again. She might, however, be persuaded to heed a different voice. Judith went down the rows of file boxes on the shelves until she found what she was looking for: Benjamin Wilton.
Libbie
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