Gina Caligano rolled over onto her side, still panting from the swirl of erotic images from her dream. She shivered not from the late October morning chill, but from pleasure denied, her pussy wet and wanting. The covers shifted as she moved, her musky arousal teasing her nose. Her thin negligee shifted and pulled taut across her nipples, drawing a low moan from between parted lips.

Her dark brown eyes blinked open as she rose to full wakefulness. Milky morning light washed over pastel pink as a feeble sun shone through thin clouds and spidery tree branches. Jagged fingers of frost crept up the windowpanes to escape an ancient steam radiator that ticked and hissed.

She let out a slow, husky sigh, kicked back the covers, and flopped to her back again. Long, black hair lay in haphazard ropes against the pillow. The folds of the negligee parted, revealing the dark, wet stain on her panties and the raised points of her excited nipples.

Explore your sexuality.

The thought rose unbidden, as it always did when she was vulnerable. Sleep made it hard, as her dreams were out of her control. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the ache in her sex.

You're a sexual being, Gina.

Gina swallowed. She knew that. It just made sense to her. Yet sometimes she felt that it was only part of the picture. When she went to bed, she stopped thinking about it. She again became just a sixteen year old girl.

It's perfectly normal to explore your sexuality.

Another lustful sigh passed Gina's lips at her mother's voice in her head. Her legs parted as the stain on her panties spread. Her mother knew best. She did as her mother told her, as any good daughter should. That was how she was raised. But recently she wondered if she should be pursuing her own ...

Take any opportunity, Gina. Any opportunity at all. No need to be shy about it.

Gina shuddered and moaned. Her fingers had strayed under her panties. Her knuckles slid under the tight fabric. Gentle, wet sounds filled the silence. Of course, she knew she need not be shy, nor hide what she did. She never questioned her mother's wisdom.

And yet ...

Something was not quite right ...

Gina struggled to hold the thought against the rising tide of pleasure. She let out a deep moan, her free hand fingering one of her hard nipples. Her body quaked with lust. She eased two, then three fingers into herself, and imagined it was a boy's cock.

She closed her eyes. Desire flooded her, and erotic images glided across her mind. Her hips pumped. The bedsprings squeaked at the thrusts of a lover that was not there.

That would be next. Her mother would tell her that was the next step, to find a partner to continue her sexual explorations. It made sense. But ...

But ...

Gina cried out and arched her back. Her cunt squeezed her fingers, her passage like a vise. It loosened only when her pussy exploded into orgasm, sending a deep shudder through her body.

"Gina?"

Gina uttered another ragged moan as the voice was accompanied by a soft knock at her door. It was another few seconds before Gina could force her voice to make coherent speech. "Uhnn ... j-just a minute, Mom ... almost done ..."

Nevertheless, the door opened, and a middle-aged woman took a half-step into the room. She smiled, her eyes beaming at her daughter. "That's very good, Gina. Masturbating as soon as you awaken is a good way to start the day."

The throbbing abated to a slow sigh from Gina. She rubbed her clit with easing strokes to extend her pleasure, just as her mother had taught her.

A good way to start the day.

Yes, it was, wasn't it? She knew she was doing the right thing all along. Her mother just confirmed what she had already known. Yet in the back of her mind, she thought she had perceived a slight hesitation in her mother's voice.

But why? And why would she notice such a trivial detail?

Roberta's loving smile never wavered. "Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes. You have some time to take a shower first if you like."

Gina slowly sat up, her breath still short as her pussy thrummed with a few final, weak throbs. "Yes, I would like that," she said in a soft, demure voice.

"Also, Gina, I'd ... I'd like to talk to you about something over breakfast. Something important."

The hesitation was back, and Roberta's eyes shimmered. Gina tried to ignore it. "What about, Mom?"

"Your sexual exploration and where you should go from here."

Gina stood up. She felt a renewed tingle in her sex despite the lingering after-ache of her climax. She believed she had been right after all. But something still seemed off. It seemed ... abrupt. Now that she had a chance to think about it, everything about her mother's interest in Gina's sexuality seemed very recent and rushed.

"Sure thing, Mom," Gina said. "I'll look forward to it."

Roberta's smile faltered a second before she left the room.

Doubt. Uncertainty. Hesitation. And so many questions.

Gina had never experienced this before. Even when she entered her teens, she never developed the rebellious streak or the desire for greater independence that was so ubiquitous among her peers. She never wandered from her path. She obeyed her mother in all things. She never questioned authority. Her teachers at Haven High considered her a model student.

But more confusing, her mother once appeared to encourage her to think for herself, to form her own opinions. Not that this would interfere with her ...

(submission)

... obedience to her mother, but she now sometimes paused when things were asked of her. All this talk about her sexuality, and how hard her mother was ...

(altering her perceptions)

... pushing her into accepting it after hardly any mention of it in the first few formative years of her puberty was confusing her to no end.

Gina shed her negligee and peeled off her damp panties. Her hairless labia glistened. She lifted her eyes and swept her gaze around the room.

This was her world. She was more familiar with it than her own body. She spent a lot of time here in her own introspection and contemplation, unencumbered by any push to socialize with her peers. She felt protected here. No one made demands of her here. No one ...

(molded)

... ordered her here. But now it seemed even this was changing.

Her eyes followed the swirling pink patterns around the walls. She remembered lying in bed, the night light present only so she could see them as she waited for sleep to claim her, imagining them as the sky of her own little world.

Now as she stood there naked, her pussy still aching, it became more an alien landscape instead.

She stepped into the bathroom and ran the water for her shower. She paused at the mirror while she waited for the hot water to make the long climb through the old pipes.

Gina once read that many girls her age could look at themselves in the mirror and see only their faults. All Gina could see was a dark, budding beauty and an object of sexual desire. It was not narcissism. She felt no ego at these thoughts. It was more ...

(a role)

(a duty)

(a ...)

Perhaps she was not sure what it was. As she stared, she recalled her dreams. She could almost feel phantom hands sliding down her sides, or cupping her breasts, or teasing her folds.

You're a sexual being, Gina.

Gina's eyes grew sultry.

It's perfectly normal to explore your sexuality.

Gina lifted a hand to her breast and played with her nipple.

Take any opportunity, Gina. Any opportunity at all. No need to be shy about it.

Her other hand slid between her thighs. It was only when thick steam rolled over her and clouded the mirror did she stop and stagger backwards.

Yet when she turned her eyes towards the shower curtain, more of her mother's words rose from the depths of her subconscious.

A shower is a wonderful place to do it.

Panting, Gina climbed into the shower and yanked the curtain. Soon her moans rose above the rush of the water.

The limo thumped from the old bridge to solid pavement, jolting Cassie Kendall as she sat in the back seat contemplating the snow that powdered the firs lining one side of the road. Several perfect bangs of brown hair fell before her troubled blue-gray eyes.

She sighed and grabbed her purse from the lap of her sea-green pleated skirt and fumbled out her compact, only to utter a more frustrated noise when she caught her own anxious face peering back at her. She snapped the compact shut and dropped it into the purse. She drew a deep breath and frowned at the scent of the stale overheated air. She longed to crack open the window, but knew her driver Harry would have no part of that, lest the precious Kendall daughter take even the slightest risk of catching a cold.

Cassie closed her eyes. Calm down. It can't be that bad. Nothing is going on now in Haven.

She knew that was a lie. There was always something going on in Haven, so long as the Darkness still remained at the node under the Inn. Surely if something that bad were happening, Heather would not have insisted on this private meeting; she would have called Jason and the rest of the Harbingers.

Cassie shook her head. Heather had maintained it was a personal matter. That was not what really had Cassie so anxious.

Cassie felt overdressed, but for once she didn't care. This was going to be a date, and only a date, so she might as well look her best. Ned never complained, and would take the opportunity to expound on her beauty again. She hoped he was not just hiding his disappointment when Cassie had told him she wasn't going to be interested in sex this time.

Considering that he was letting her do something that, to her, was far more intimate than sex ever could be ...

Her thoughts were interrupted when the limo turned from the street and into Haven City Park.

The place was nearly deserted, even more so than she thought it would be on a Saturday morning despite the cold. A few people stood on one of the narrow paths watching their dogs frolic in the thin blanket of snow. A couple snuggled on a bench. As the car passed, Cassie stared as the man's Dark Aura stood out in sharp contrast against the snowy backdrop. The woman cuddling up to him was unaffected and unaware. Tendrils of his Aura slithered around her like excited snakes.

Cassie swallowed and lay a hand over her heart. No, stop it. You can't worry about every single Aura you see. Nothing BIG is going on now.

Cassie's attention was caught by a more welcome figure on another bench some distance down a winding path, visible between the bare branches. "Find a place to pull over, Harry, I see her."

"Very well, Miss Kendall," Harry said. "Bundle up, please, it is quite chilly out."

Cassie stifled a retort and yanked her fur-lined coat towards her. The cold bit at her anyway, as she had to swing her legs out and pull herself up before she could balance herself enough to consider donning the coat. In her mother's eyes, she was going to a "social function," which meant elegance and extreme femininity all the way. Never mind that the strappy black heels would make her feet cold.

She cocooned herself in the coat, her breath fogging the air as she walked with crisp footfalls against cold concrete. Craggy white branches arched over the path against a patchy gray sky, making Heather look small. Even Heather's vibrant red hair seemed to lend little color to the desolation.

Her shoes announced her presence, and Heather Sovert raised her head, hazy green eyes nearly as faded with worry as Cassie's. Yet whatever Heather's trouble was, it was forgotten as Cassie came into view. A very tiny smile curled her lips as a breeze blew a few strands of hair before her eyes. "You didn't have to get this dolled up just to talk to me, Cassie."

Cassie managed a small smile as she sat on the bench. "I have a date with Ned after this."

Heather's smile turned into a smirk. "And how long will he get to see it before--"

"We have a date," Cassie repeated, though her cheeks burned. "That's all."

Heather looked a bit nonplussed, then vaguely embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean ..."

Cassie waved a hand and tried not to look impatient. She did not want to be reminded of the decision she had to make.

Cassie had never had a serious sexual experience with anyone until Ned. Now she could not get enough. No normal person went from sexual zero to sixty that fast, and she was determined that something would be normal in her life. "So what is it you needed to talk to me about that you couldn't mention on the phone?"

Heather knitted her hands together in her lap and let out a short, quick sigh. "Cassie, this is ... this is going to seem like a weird question, but ... but have you ... recently ... have you, um ... missed a period?"

Cassie blinked and blushed faintly. "Well ... yes, I have, but I'm on the pill. Some women get that side effect. It's happened to me before. I've always had light periods."

"I've missed two."

Cassie's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no!"

"I'm not pregnant!" Heather cried. Her cheeks glowed red, and she lowered her voice. "At least I'm pretty sure I'm not. The only guy I've fucked since the school semester began is Jason, and we used a condom. I swear, there hasn't been a single cock in me other than his!"

Cassie nodded and adjusted the pleats of her dress. A week and a half after Melissa, and Heather was still talking about sex as others might talk about what was on TV that night.

"I missed the first one during Nyssa and didn't think anything of it. I just figured it was her control over me or something. But I was supposed to start a few days after we defeated Melissa and nothing. And ... and Melinda's missed hers, too."

"H-Heather, she and Jason are always going at it, do you think she might have let him--"

"She insists she hasn't! Cassie, we both got test kits from the pharmacy. They both came out clear."

Cassie wanted to believe her. Just like she wanted to believe that her own missed period was nothing to worry about, either. She had not given it any thought until then.

"Cassie, I swear," Heather said. "I haven't fucked anyone other than Jason. I mean, I've been doing it with him, yeah, but not like that. I want to ... shit, I really want to, just like Melinda does ... I don't feel like I'm even getting satisfied without his cock in me, but we--"

Cassie squirmed and drew her legs together. "I get the picture, Heather."

"You and Ned are still doing it, right?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, I know you two have been using the house on Ollander, the one Richie's mother secretly gave us to use."

"We shouldn't be using it for that anymore. It was so the Harbingers could meet, not ... not to provide a place for sex. And we have that place for only another week anyway."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me."

"Is that where you and Jason ...?"

"And Melinda. And Diane."

Cassie blanched. Heather was still in sexual overdrive.

"But you and Ned are doing the same thing," Heather protested when she saw Cassie's face.

"We're trying not to," Cassie declared. She shifted in her seat again. Her skin flushed despite the chill.

"Why? I thought you said you liked it."

Cassie wasn't sure she wanted to try to explain it. She enjoyed it, but she was not sure she liked what else it might be doing to her.

Ever since Melissa, Cassie's Dream Gift had become stronger. Lucid dreaming was something she could do at will, but now it had turned on and would not turn back off. The ease at which she could peek into other people's lives as she slept worried her.

Ned let her experiment on him and spy on his life to discover the reach of her powers. That disquieted her more than anything else.

"Hey, you got a right to see what yer gettin' inta with me anyway," Ned had told her when she had expressed reservations. If not him, someone that was willing, it would be someone else. Her Gift was so energized that she had to burn off that energy every night or she was sure it would do something bad, like pulling the pin on a grenade and then refusing to toss it.

It was Ned's idea that the sex may be doing it. It was the same thing that made Heather's precognition stronger. But Cassie wanted to cut back for another reason: she just wanted to see if she could get along without it, that she was not growing addicted to it like Heather.

"We're getting off the subject," Cassie said. "What about Diane? Is the same thing happening to her?"

Heather sighed. "I haven't told her yet. I didn't want her to start worrying."

"Because if the same thing is happening to her, then it must be something else. Certainly she would not be pregnant."

Heather nodded. It was common knowledge now among the Harbingers -- and among much of the school by now -- that Diane was a lesbian. "I just don't know what else to do."

"Tell Jason."

Heather blushed.

"Tell him, Heather. He's the leader of the group. He said we have to tell him about anything unusual that's happening. I'd say this was unusual."

"I just want to know what it means." Heather ran a hand through her hair. "Cassie, this is driving me nuts. I can't go a single day without sex. It's freaking Melinda out."

Cassie cast a wary look at Heather. "Are you still ... influencing Melinda into sex with you?"

"I can't help it. At least the runt understands that. She doesn't mind me making her lick my pussy, so long as I do her in return. It's when I make Jason fuck me that she gets all uptight."

Cassie squirmed. It was barely twenty degrees, but she needed to open her coat. "Wait ... make Jason fu ... have sex with you?"

Heather looked at Cassie in confusion. "Make? I ... no, I mean when I ask him to." She smiled faintly. "He's usually very obliging."

Cassie had hoped that Jason was over the submissive streak that Nyssa had left in him. Cassie had seen Jason stand up to Melinda and quiet her many times when she was being obnoxious, more so than he had during the crisis with Melissa.

Cassie moved her legs again and uttered a tiny gasp. Her panties felt damp and warm. God, no, I can't be ...

"And so is Diane," Heather said. "Wow, some of the things she can do now with her tongue."

Cassie swallowed hard. "Heather ..."

Heather leaned towards Cassie. "She's got this little swirly thing she can do on my clit that just drives me nuts."

Cassie's thighs quaked. "Heather ..."

"And then when I'm just writhing around like crazy, she takes her finger and--"

"Heather!"

Heather flinched and fell silent. Cassie panted for a few more seconds before she could force her breath to its normal rate. "Cassie, are you okay?"

"I-I think I need to get going," said Cassie in a shaky voice. She stumbled as she rose on her heels. "I don't want to keep Ned waiting. That is ... I don't want to be late for our date. Please, go tell Jason about this."

Heather nodded. "I'm supposed to see him later today." She paused. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "So to speak."

Cassie hurried away without another word.

She took a deep breath and let it out with a small cough as the cold air stung her lungs. Her feet wobbled atop their heels as she rushed to the limo. Harry barely had time to scramble out of the driver's seat and open the door for her before she dove back inside.

"Miss Kendall, make I take your coat before--"

"Just get back into the limo and drive, Harry," Cassie snapped.

A brief patch of fog formed before Harry's face as he let out a single breath. He closed the door for Cassie and got back behind the wheel.

Cassie opened her coat and tore the scarf from her neck as Harry pulled away from the curb. She used the sound of the laboring engine to cover her panting. Two points rose from her petite bosom and tented her blouse. She let out a slow sigh, her thighs quivering around her now achy and wet pussy. Her own musk rode the overheated air to her nose, and then she was overheated in a different sense.

Her now sultry eyes gazed out the window and saw that Harry had already turned to the route that would take her to her rendezvous with Ned.

She wanted to tell Harry that she was in no condition to see him now, but each time the words rose to her lips, she squirmed again and felt her lust rekindled. I can control myself, Cassie thought. I'll get myself calmed down before we get there. I am not going to give into this!

Jason Conner sat in the tiny, darkened room that may have once been a pantry. Instead of food, the shelves were cluttered with artifacts of the arcane: cloudy glass orbs, bright sparkling crystals, vials of many-hued liquids, bags of dried herbs, and stubby candles with gobs of dried wax frozen down their sides. It was one of the latter that stood between him and Debby Radson on the small table, its light dancing on the lens of his glasses.

Debby insisted on starting every visit like this with an aura reading. Not an Aura as he and his fellow Harbingers knew it, as a hallmark of being touched or controlled by the Darkness, but the more "traditional" meaning.

Debby was a Pagan and a practicing Witch. Had this been before midsummer, Jason would have derided all this hocus-pocus as bunk. He was not ready to embrace it, but he could not reject it, either. He hung in an uncomfortable limbo, unsure of what was more unsettling: that it was all real or all phony.

"Your aura is always so fascinating, Jason," Debby said, smiling through the wavering heat rising from the candle flame. Her blue robes looked almost violet in the dim light. "I still don't quite understand all of it. Just like Cassie, I see things I've never seen in anyone else before."

Jason forced a small smile, unable to decide whether to thank her or apologize.

"That one peculiar layer I spotted last time, it seems brighter now. I can almost see some striations in it."

"Huh? Oh, um, you mean the one you think ... uh ..."

"The one that gives you the ability to see the Darkness, yes."

Debby's voice was somber, her eyes distant. Jason could still see the hurt in Debby's eyes from what Melissa had forced her and her daughter Susan to do with one another. Debby and Susan hardly spoke, as if afraid it would somehow rekindle their mutual lust. Perhaps it still lingered, and they were doing everything in their power to ignore it, just like Heather and Melinda.

Though Heather's not doing much to ignore it anymore, Jason thought.

Jason expunged that thought as unfair to Heather and considered another cause. A lingering effect from Nyssa or the House was too simple an explanation. Nothing was simple in Haven. This was part of the reason for his visit.

"Has your ability been more powerful lately, Jason?" Debby asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I can see more detail in the patterns now."

Jason had not wanted to talk about this, despite Debby's fascination. All of his fellow Harbingers had the ability to see the Darkness. It came to the original four from the House, and then to others that they directly wrested from the control of the Darkness. Only Diane did not have the ability. Some of them had additional skills. Melinda's was extremely sensitive; she could see even the tiniest taint of Darkness. Jason could see patterns that exposed the person's relationship with the Darkness, as well as other nuances he was only beginning to understand.

"What about what you can hear?"

Jason had to suppress a sigh. That was the most disturbing aspect of his ability. He alone could actually hear the Darkness communicating with its thralls or sympathizers. "Mrs. Radson, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I really don't have a lot of time this morning and would like to talk to you about the Book."

Debby looked mildly disappointed, but she nodded once and blew out the candle with a single, quick breath. She leaned back in her seat as smoke curled to the ceiling. "I'm not sure I can tell you much more than you already know."

"Are you sure about that? I'm sorry if I seem pushy, Mrs. Radson, but I just don't know what to do with this thing."

"I trust you've been keeping it safe?"

"That's just it, I don't know what 'safe' means. Almost every day one of the others asks about it. They still want to use some of its spells, despite the danger."

Debby stood up. Jason felt a slight sense of intimidation by her larger frame despite her kind face. Her bare feet were silent as she stepped towards one of the shelves behind her. "Are you afraid they might take it from you?"

Jason was a little taken aback by the question. "Well ... if you mean I think they'll break into my house and steal it, no."

Debby moved aside an orb and pressed a spot on the back wall. There was a click, and a tiny door popped open. "What about you, Jason?"

"Huh? Me? I don't understand."

Debby reached into the alcove beyond the door and withdrew a wooden box with a latch. She turned back towards the table. "Do you want to use the Book again?"

Jason started to shake his head, then stopped. "I don't know."

Debby sat down again. "I understand. The Book has a natural draw to it. It represents power, power of the worst sort. Now ..."

"But that's just it, Mrs. Radson, I'm not sure now what kind of power."

Debby paused with her finger on the latch. "Come again?"

"There's something really odd about that Book. I mean, all the spells that can be found in it have to do with controlling other people sexually. All except one, the Rite of Power. Why?"

Debby draped her hands over the box. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Think about it, Mrs. Radson. The Rite seems the odd man out. It's so radically different from all the other spells in that Book. Yes, you have to indirectly control others to make the spell work, but other than that, it has nothing to do with control. It's just a means of tapping power from a node. The fact that the Darkness tried to use it to emerge was just a convenient side-effect. If it were a case where gaining that power lets you use the other spells more effectively, then maybe that would be a connection, but I don't think that's the case. The spells seem to work regardless of how much other power you have."

Debby stared at Jason. "I ... never thought of it that way," she said in an awed voice. "That's a remarkable insight. My mother never mentioned that when she handed down the knowledge of the Book."

"This is all speculation, Mrs. Radson. I can't prove any of it. And to be honest, I just want to be rid of the Book. I want to destroy it."

Debby sighed. "But it can't be, you've seen that yourself."

"I know. I was hoping if you had more information, I could find a way to do it."

"All I can offer you, Jason, is this."

Debby lifted her hands. She undid the latch, opened the box, and turned it towards Jason. When Jason had to strain his eyes to see it, Debby reached up and yanked a pull-chain. A drop-light clicked on, glinting off the pieces of metal inside the box.

Jason recoiled. "Melissa's pendant!"

Debby placed a hand on his and squeezed. "No need to fear it, the Entity is long gone from it."

Jason peered into the box. The pendant lay in three jagged pieces. It was once a pentagram that held a small bit of essence of the Darkness. It had a link to the Book such that Melissa could see through the eyes of one that held it and even influence his or her mind from a distance. The Darkness had destroyed it once it realized it had been defeated.

"Despite being broken, it still shares a weak link with the Book," Debby said. "Not enough to do what Melissa did, fortunately, but it still reacts when the book is handled or used."

Jason blushed. "So you know it's been used since--"

Debby smiled wanly. "Just twice, but not for a whole week now."

Guilt weighed on Jason like a lead slab. "Mrs. Radson, I'm sorry. I should never have let anyone persuade me into letting them use it again, even for the supposedly more innocuous--"

"Jason, I'm not blaming you for anything. In fact, I want to apologize for spying on you, which is why I want you to have the pendant fragments."

"Maybe we need someone looking over our shoulder. Maybe we can't be trusted with it. Maybe I can't be trusted with it."

Debby squeezed his hand again. "Hush, Jason. You are doing much better than my mother ever did with the Book." She sighed, her eyes sad. "My mother wanted to protect the Book for all the wrong reasons. She ... she didn't have a conscience, not like you or your friends."

Jason was not sure how to respond. Debby removed her hand and pushed the box towards him.

"And you are also doing better than my mother in another respect," said Debby with a solemn voice. "You don't really want the power. My mother did."

Some part of Jason did want it, if just to make his life easier. He had used a simple control spell once on his mother to erase a memory of receiving a call from school that Jason had been truant. He hated himself for doing it, despite having no alternative solution at the time.

"You say there might be another purpose to the Book," Debby said. "Maybe the fragments of the pendant can help you find it."

Jason looked up. "And you're sure there is no more of the Entity's essence in it?"

"As sure as I can be. All the time I owned it, I could feel it trying to tug at the back of my mind and influence me into seeking the Book and performing the Rite. That stopped after that night."

Jason stared at the pendant fragments for another pensive moment before he closed the box. He latched it and took it in his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Radson."

"I seem to recall Elizabeth speaking in her journal about objects that are imbued with power, sometime around 1972," said Debby with a small smile. "There may be something of use there."

Jason forced a smile in return.

The receipt of the aging and yellowed pages of Elizabeth Jellison's journal had been a great boon to the Harbingers. She was the old woman that had given Jason the vital clue about the nature of the House at the end of the street. She was the same Witch that had helped Mara's spirit become one with the House, the spirit that later presented the test to Jason and his three friends. The journal was her legacy.

The problem was that it was a journal. Everything in it was in chronological order, forcing him to do his own indexing as he read.

One thing was immediately useful, however. Elizabeth had drawn a map of all the lines of force that ran under Haven and crossed under the Li'l Missy Inn, where they formed the node that they believed housed the Entity -- the Darkness.

Jason stood up. "I better get going. I promised I'd meet one of my friends later at our meeting house."

Debby stood as well. "Have you found someplace else to meet after the house is no longer available?"

Jason shook his head. He had not had time to think about it. He had spent the past week and a half since Melissa in furious pursuit of catching up on lagging schoolwork.

"I might be able to convince my husband Bill to allow you to meet here now and then," said Debby. "Though after what happened to Susan, he's been trying to distance us from this. I could probably get him to agree to allow your friends to meet after school on weekdays. Weekends would likely not work out."

Jason forced a grateful look to his face. She still had no idea the real reason behind the Harbingers' need, and Jason was not about to tell her now. "That would be great. Thank you, I'll tell the others."

Making breakfast was usually a trivial task for Roberta. She had cooking down to an art. Yet in the space of time it took her daughter to take a shower, she scorched the toast, forgot to put out the orange juice, and let part of the eggs remain runny.

Roberta had no idea what to say to Gina. What she was supposed to say should have been said a year ago, just like everything else she had been heaping onto her daughter. It was too little too late, and she didn't have any more desire to do it now than she had before.

She had no choice. Time was running out not just for Gina but for herself.

"Good morning, Mom."

Roberta flinched, dropping her spatula into the pan and splattering grease over the enameled stove top. She fixed a pleasant smile on her lips before she turned around.

No words came to her. She was struck by the oddity of the scene. Gina sat at the very same table at which Roberta herself sat sixteen years ago, cradling an infant daughter in her arms and letting the gentle sound of the breeze in the trees in the back yard calm Gina into slumber.

The room had looked exactly the same. The same table. The same chairs. The same swinging brass pendulum of the clock next to the edge of the cupboards. The same scuffed tan tile coating the floor. It was a moment frozen in time for sixteen years.

Sameness breeds complacency. Complacency opens the mind to influence.

With those words spoken from the depths of Roberta's subconscious, she was reminded of her duty. Her smile became more natural, and she broke free of her indecisive paralysis. "Good morning, sweetie." She served breakfast with a final flair that was more in keeping with her talents. Only the fact that she kept the burnt and runny parts of breakfast confined to her portion was any sign that she was aware of her less than perfect performance at the stove.

"Thank you," said Gina when the plate was placed before her.

Roberta let the meal lapse into silence. Her fears crept back. Her desperate grasp reached for words that were not there. Not the right ones, anyway.

Gina looked up. "Mom, is it okay if I take a walk along the little road to Old Fairview today?"

"Take ... oh ... it's a bit cold out today, isn't it, dear?"

"The sun is supposed to come out later. I won't feel cold if I'm walking."

For a moment, Roberta let herself be an ordinary mother, and she smiled in prelude to her response.

Never lose control of the situation.

Roberta's smile faltered.

Never let the child direct the conversation.

She put down her fork. Gina's dark eyes turned curious but wary, as if she already knew she had crossed some invisible line.

There is only one agenda: yours.

Roberta's tone turned more serious. "Gina, dear, I think we're letting ourselves be distracted from what is important right now, and that is your sexual development."

Gina drew back in her chair. Her eyes became subdued, then downcast in silent humility and submission.

Always reinforce authority. Guilt can be effective as a reminder.

Roberta's voice wavered. "You do sometimes lose focus, Gina, so I need you to pay attention," she said, voice low but firm.

"Yes, Mom, of course. I'm sorry."

Roberta had only the words in which she had been versed so long ago, but insufficient time to see any return on them and please her Master. She hoped he would have some mercy on her if she made the effort to mold her daughter's psyche as he wished.

"Gina, dear, I think you've gone as far as you can by yourself," Roberta began. "Sex is--"

"You want me to have sex with boys."

Roberta's fork clattered to her plate.

Gina's eyes widened. "But ... that's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, but ..."

Dampen initiative in the child as much as possible. Keep her compliant. Keep her following your lead.

A slight shiver came over Roberta, as if a very brief but powerful wave of revulsion had swept over her.

Gina tilted her head. "Is something the matter?"

Roberta forced her voice steady. "No, Gina, but you do need to listen. Sex is not something you keep to yourself."

"Keep to myself?"

"Like what you have been doing up until now. That was fine while you were learning, but you can't keep doing that much longer."

Gina nodded slowly. "Mom, I think I've been dreaming about this. People touching me, making me excited and ... and wet. Really wet."

Some of Roberta's smile was forced. "So you've been masturbating in the mornings to your dreams?"

"Yes. They just get me so horny that I have to."

Use her own thoughts and feelings to reinforce your will.

Roberta swallowed. "And wouldn't you like it if someone else could give you pleasure like that?"

Gina leaned back in her seat and let out a sultry breath. "I've been thinking about it, Mom," she said in a husky voice.

"Yes, of course you have. And you should."

"But I hardly know any of the boys at school."

Part of Roberta was again stunned. Part of her dared to exult in her daughter's boldness. "That ... that shouldn't matter, Gina, you--"

"But I have to know someone pretty well first, don't I? I mean, I ... I'd be pretty ... pretty helpless if I just let myself--"

"Being helpless is part of it, Gina."

Gina paused. Her gaze wavered.

"I said that sex is something to be given. You let it be taken from you."

"But--"

"Let it be taken, and let yourself submit to it."

"Let myself--"

"Yes, you let yourself submit. You simply surrender to it."

A long pause. Then, a very slow nod of Gina's head.

Roberta started to relax. "Do you see, now, Gina? You let it be taken. You let him take you. You give him ..."

Gina continued nodding, but then slowed and stopped. She tilted her head and looked at her mother. Her lips drew to a slight pout and her forehead wrinkled, as if struggling with a thought.

Do not allow a moment for reflection. Drive the point home until it is ingrained.

Roberta knew her duty yet hesitated just a second too long.

"Mom, I don't understand something," said Gina. "Giving something and letting it be taken are not really the same thing, are they?"

Roberta did not respond. She just stared at her daughter, her mind racing to find a way to return the conversation to the script that she knew.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Gina said, drawing back.

"Um ... no, Gina, you ... that is ..." Roberta paused and closed her eyes. "Please, give me a moment."

Use her own weakness against her.

Roberta squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the urge to shake her head. "You just ... you just need to listen to me, Gina. You need to do as your mother tells you."

"But I ... I do. I always do, Mom."

The early formative years are the perfect time for implanted emotional controls.

Roberta opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "Then listen to me now. Sex is meant to be given. That's what you need to do. Don't argue about my word choice."

Gina nodded, her meal forgotten and cooling on her plate. "But I still don't know any boys, Mom, I haven't talked to any of them."

"That ... that doesn't matter."

Gina looked confused. "But ..."

These controls can be used to effectively counter resistance.

Roberta uttered an exasperated sigh. "But what, Gina?"

Gina sensed her mother was upset with her, and she almost cringed. Her defiance was a mystery even to herself, and it fought with her over the next words. "I ... I just think ... maybe I shouldn't rush it ... maybe I could just keep doing what I'm doing now and--"

"Gina, you can't just keep it to yourself much longer. You can't avoid giving yourself to others. It would be selfish."

Gina shuddered and gasped, horror-struck. Her face clouded with guilt.

No amount of thought could overcome that emotional trigger. She trembled at the idea that she could even consider acting in such a terrible way. No words, no thoughts, no feelings could excuse such a thing.

She looked at her mother, gaze pleading and shimmering, desperate to hear how she could avoid becoming this awful, selfish creature.

Roberta stared at her daughter, stricken. Gina's mind was wide open. She could pour anything at all into Gina's head and it would become part of her daughter's psyche. Gina would do anything to escape this terrible fate.

Roberta swallowed and looked away. "Use ... u-use your own judgment, Gina."

Gina drew in a long breath. She felt as if she had just emerged from a long, dark tunnel. She looked back at her mother in confusion. "Huh?"

"Use your own judgment," Roberta said in a louder but shaky voice. "I mean ... please, consider what I told you, but ... but just do what seems right."

Gina gave her mother a confused look, but nodded nonetheless. She was sure she had missed something, but what?

A ragged sigh escaped Roberta's lips. "Gina, you can go for that walk if you want. I'll take care of cleaning up."

"Oh, are you sure, Mom? I really should do my part."

"No, Gina, just go. Please."

Gina nodded and rose. She gave her mother one last look before she left.

Roberta moaned and dropped her face into her hands. She had a chance to redeem herself before her Master's eyes and she blew it. He would be very angry with her.

She lifted her eyes, which glistened with tears that refused to be shed no matter how much she longed to. She loved her daughter, but it was not enough to overcome her loyalty to her Master. She feared not so much what he would do to her as what he would force her to do to Gina to salvage his fortunes.

Roberta knew that he would not take kindly to the ruination of a sixteen year old experiment.

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