Heather leaned over the side of the tub and grasped the spigots, her breasts dangling under her, nipples already hard and taut. She opened the faucet and held her hand under the stream as she waited for the hot water.

Behind her, a naked Melinda folded her arms. "Why the hell do we have to do it in here?"

"Do you really want Mom walking in on us, runt?"

Melinda snorted. "Not like she would care. She'd probably want to join in."

Heather straightened, shaking water from her hand. "Yeah, and you want her trying to mess with our heads when we're fucking?"

Melinda's cheeks pinked. "It's going to be awkward in there! I'll hardly have any room."

"Stop complaining." Heather smiled. "You know, I can make you like it."

Melinda's eyes widened and she backed up into the sink. "Don't you ...!"

"Yeah, you love it, baby sis. It makes you horny just thinking about it."

Melinda grasped the sink behind her with trembling hands. "S-stop it ..."

"You just love licking me in the shower. Just love it."

Melinda moaned and squeezed her legs together. "Uhn ... sh-shit, I hate how easy you can do that."

Heather smiled and cupped one of Melinda's breasts. "Only because you always keep resisting me, so I had to get better at it."

Melinda leaned into the touch. "At least you waited until I had my clothes off this time," she said in a weak voice. "G-god! I hardly ever have clean panties anymore ... uhhn! ... ohmigod ... wh-what ...?"

Heather kneaded both Melinda's breasts, flicking the nipples with her fingers. She willed her little sister to get more aroused each time she did it.

"Uhhng ... uhhn ... j-jeez ..."

Heather giggled as steam drifted around them. She turned away, leaving her sister quivering and panting. Melinda's feet slid apart, her hand venturing towards her pussy.

Heather glanced behind her as she crouched near the faucet. "No touching yourself, baby sis."

Melinda's hand fell away. "I hate you," she moaned.

Heather adjusted the water a final time. "But you love my pussy, don't you?" She pulled the button atop the faucet that sent the water spraying from the shower-head

"I love to lick it ... I love to eat you out ... oh, stop it already ..."

Heather stepped back to Melinda. She touched her sister's arm, and Melinda's lust eased with a slow sigh and slump of her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Heather said in a contrite voice. "I've pulled back a bit."

Melinda's hips squirmed. "You're still in my head."

"Only a little. You still want to lick me, don't you?"

"You made me that way," Melinda retorted, but the conviction was weak.

"Maybe I did, I don't know," Heather said. "But I need you, Melinda, please. I'm not sure I'll get through the day if you don't do this for me."

"I told you I would do it when you needed it. You don't have to keep screwing with my head all the time. That's the only thing that gets me mad at you."

Heather sighed and lowered her eyes. Steam billowed from behind the shower curtain and filled the room. "It's like an impulse, Melinda. I just ... I just do it without thinking."

Melinda stared at her sister, which inflamed her desire without Heather's direct help. "God, you even made me get hot looking at other girls!"

Heather smirked. "Oh, you're exaggerating, Melinda.

Melinda wanted to say something else but reconsidered, her cheeks reddening again. Her eyes roamed over her sister's body despite her attempts to stop herself.

"That why you keep checking me out?" asked Heather.

Melinda shivered. "Not when I looked at you earlier. I was looking for an Aura."

"I don't have one, I keep telling you that. This has nothing to do with the Darkness."

Melinda folded her arms again and tried to avoid Heather's eyes. Her gaze instead fell on Heather's wet pussy, and she trembled with renewed desire.

"I know what the Darkness feels like," Heather said in a hollow voice. "I've been affected by it too many times to forget."

Melinda forced herself to raise her eyes to her sister's face.

"I don't know what this is," Heather said. "Just ... just don't give me a hard time with it, okay?"

"I'll try." Melinda glanced at the shower. "We better get inside, or Mom will be wondering why we're wasting all the hot water. And ... and I want to lick your pussy until you cum all over my face."

Heather giggled. Melinda blushed scarlet.

"Sorry," said Heather.

"No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. Come on, I want that sweet little tongue of yours in my cunt."

Melinda felt a rush of heat over her naked skin, and not all of it prompted by Heather's influence. As Heather turned around to enter the shower, Melinda's gaze drifted to Heather's rear, sending another little shiver of lust through her.

Melinda let Heather believe she was exaggerating. Her worries were real, and letting them slip out embarrassed her more than was obvious to her big sister. She consoled herself that her bigger secrets -- such as occasionally wondering what Cassie looked like naked -- remained buried.

Melinda followed her sister, the steam shrouding her like thick fog. Heather yanked the shower curtain closed, her panting rising over the rush of the water. She slid an arm around her little sister's waist and drew her close until their bodies touched. Melinda's breath came out as a ragged sigh, her next one drawn as a gasp when Heather's fingers sank into her slit.

Melinda moaned as the intimate touch overwhelmed her resistance. She pumped her hips against Heather and rubbed her slick pussy against Heather's hand. She whimpered when Heather suddenly withdrew.

"You'll cum after you make me cum, baby sis," Heather said.

Melinda dropped to her knees, staring at Heather's pussy as if in worship, her lust rising not just at Heather's bidding. Her protests drowned in warm water and hot lust, and she pressed her lips to Heather's wet folds.

Heather shuddered as Melinda's tongue milked Heather's clit with firm, quick strokes. There was not enough time for delicacy, not when they had to get ready for school that Monday morning. Yet she didn't want to rush it, and she gave her sister a mental nudge.

Melinda panted into Heather's pussy, drawing a husky sigh from her sister. Melinda's pussy ached as she inhaled the deep heady aroma of Heather's wet flesh. Her hands trembled and fluttered about her thighs, but Heather forbade her to let them get any closer to her sex.

Heather leaned forward, mashing her sex into Melinda's face. "More of your sweet little face in my muff, please."

Melinda shuddered as sweet pleasure blossomed in her own pussy with the press of her face against Heather's sex. Then she realized she was rising, as if someone were stroking her.

Heather smiled. "This works with Diane, let's see how it works with you."

Melinda whimpered and moaned through her nose, sucking Heather's clit into her mouth. Heather gasped and her hips bucked. She wanted to bury Melinda's face in her mound and make Melinda face-fuck her as hard as she could.

No, stop it, don't go that far.

Heather trembled, her hands clenched as if holding on to something. She leaned back against the wall. Melinda followed, her pussy straining near the edge, her jaw and tongue aching with her effort to bring Heather to orgasm so she could be rewarded.

Controlling her too much ... but I have to, or she won't ... or the others won't ... no, not the others ... not that ... I can't do that to them ... I just CAN'T ...

Heather tossed her head back, bumping it against the tile behind her. Melinda gurgled as Heather's cum gushed over her face and splashed to the bottom of the tub. She swallowed a mouthful without hesitation and licked Heather's pussy as if wanting more. Heather's body shook with her orgasm.

Melinda drew back. Heather's hand scrabbled against the tiles as she fought to catch her breath, her pussy still throbbing in the aftermath.

I can't.

But now Heather had forgotten what she couldn't do.

Melinda looked up. "You okay?"

"Huh? I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little strange for a minute. You ... what are ... ohmigod ..."

Heather grinned. Her foot rubbed against Melinda's slick mound.

"Uhnn ... s-stop it ... I ..."

"Don't you want to cum?"

"Not with your foot! It's too ... uhn! ... t-too weird ..."

"Diane loves it."

Melinda panted hard. "She loves anything you do to her."

"Yeah, and you love this."

Melinda whimpered. Her knees slid further apart, and she rocked her hips in time to Heather's strokes. She let out a shrill cry as she came, pussy throbbing hard against Heather's foot.

Heather watched her sister writhe in the throes of climax. She pulled her foot back a little and wiggled her toes against Melinda's sex. Melinda uttered another low cry. Heather smiled and tweaked Melinda's clit with her big toe a few times before withdrawing.

Melinda looked up and scrunched her nose. "That was weird."

Heather lowered her foot. "Yeah, but you loved it."

Melinda stood. "But don't make me love it all the time, okay?"

Heather's smile faded, and she nodded. "I won't. Come on, we better get finished in here."

As she reached for the soap, the thought came to her again.

I can't.

And again, she had no idea what it meant.

May 16th, 1955 - I witnessed something rather disturbing today, and I'm not at all sure what to make of it.

Remember Lana, the petite young woman I treated for unwanted erotic dreams? After failing to rid her of these "offensive" dreams, I decided to take a completely different tack. I tried to get her to accept her dreams instead, and find a way for her to take control of them and her repressed desires.

Oh, she resisted at first. She was scandalized at the idea that she could possibly harbor these "unladylike" impulses and urges. I had to explain to her that I could find no supernatural cause for her "malady." Well, that was perhaps a tiny fib. There was no supernatural force for ILL that I could find. Instead, I believe it was yet another person sensitive to the energy lines under Haven. I didn't want to try to explain that to her, since in her properly upright Christian mind, supernatural = evil.

Maybe I was too excited over finding someone else who was open to the energies. Maybe I would have seen a warning sign. But I think I'm getting ahead of myself.

I finally coaxed her into letting me lead her in a light hypnosis session. I was so careful! I'm new to hypnosis, and I took every precaution imaginable. But Lana was incredibly receptive. She went under deeper than I thought I could ever take her.

I thought I had made a breakthrough. I really loosened her up, as if something in her head was just waiting for the excuse, for someone to tell her that it was okay to express these feelings. She even seemed eager at the thought of acting on them with her husband.

But then a week ago, Lana abruptly stopped coming to my office. No call, no note, nothing.

Finally, I got concerned enough about her that I went to her house today. I was greeted by her husband Jeff, a man I had never met before. I felt there was something just wrong about him. He had an odd look to his eyes. He told me bluntly that my "services were no longer needed." He wouldn't let me come in and talk to Lana.

But then Lana tried to come to the door herself. Jeff ordered her to leave the room. I caught a glimpse of her before she left. She couldn't have been wearing anything more than a skimpy pair of frilly panties. But that wasn't what really concerned me. It was the wide, vacant look to her eyes, like she was still in a deep trance.

And then Jeff gave me this strange, disturbing smile. It chilled me to the bone, and I felt like his eyes bored into my head. For just a moment, I swore I didn't want to leave.

What happened to Lana? I tried to unlock her sexual being to bring her and Jeff closer together. I was sure that her dreams were just a manifestation of that desire, magnified by her receptivity to the lines of force. Did something else happen? I'm a little spooked by this, and I'm the one that's supposed to deal with the supernatural with an unflinching eye!

"Jason, you better be dressed and ready for school if you don't want to be late for the bus!"

Jason was re-bundling the pages of Elizabeth's journal halfway through his mother's announcement "I've been ready for a bit, Mom, just catching up on email!" he called out as he shoved the document under the bed.

"Well, let it go until later and get on to school."

Jason straightened and combed his hair with his fingers. "Sure thing, Mom, just a second."

He plopped down in front of his computer, all set to type in his references for the page he just read, but paused when he realized his mother would likely hear the typing and think he was defying her order. He clicked on the icon to shut down the computer and jumped out of the chair.

Jason wanted to maintain a good relationship with his mother. He still felt guilty, first for what he did to her during the summer with the power from the House, and then again when he used the spell from the Book to erase her memory of his truancy while the Harbingers were dealing with Melissa.

He tread a fine line. His mother was still upset over Jason sneaking out the night of the Rite. He suspected that his father was responsible for protecting him from her full wrath, but his father's motivation was a mystery.

Jason gathered his books into his book-bag, along with a printout from his computer. He stared at the gap between bed and floor where the Book lay just out of sight, and raised the same debate with himself he did every morning: bring the Book or leave it?

Jason worried that he put his mother at risk by leaving the Book at home, but carrying it with him would make it easier for Principal Laura Bendon to take it from him.

Ms. Bendon had her share of Dark power, but her Aura was different than those that were enslaved to the Entity. Those Auras showed little volition or will, only obedience and the glow of sexual reward. Her Aura -- and her actions -- betrayed both cunning and ambition, and thus he believed her assistance to the Darkness was tendered on the provision that there was something in it for her.

Jason reached under the bed and pulled out the small wooden box given to him by Mrs. Radson. He stared at it for a few seconds, then opened it and lifted the fragment of Melissa's old pendant still attached to the chain. He stuffed it into his pocket, kicked the box under the bed, and dashed out of the room.

He barreled down the hall, and a figure loomed from the floor below as he reached the top of the stairs. His foot missed the top step in his effort to stop when his book-bag unbalanced him, and he grabbed the banister to prevent a spill.

"Good morning, son."

Jason stared at his father Henry Conner as if intending to challenge him over that simple statement. Henry's face was set as hard as the words were casual. He folded his arms across his chest and cast a placid gaze upon his son that Jason interpreted as expectant.

Jason realized his foolish assumption, that he had been too wrapped up in the journal to hear the garage door cycle as his father left for the hospital. He listened for that sound every morning and felt relieved when he heard it, as it meant another morning where he did not have to see his father's Aura.

He forced himself to walk, each step wary, his muscles tensed for flight. Henry followed him with steel-blue eyes. Jason traced the edges of his father body with his gaze, where the Aura churned and seethed.

Henry's Aura was similar to Melissa, that of someone who had taken Dark power of his own will and wielded it with autonomy. That was all they shared. After Melissa's defeat, Jason saw more differences between his father's Aura and any other he had ever seen.

"No good morning in return?" said Henry.

"Morning, father," Jason said in a formal voice. He continued down the stairs. His father did not move, and he was forced to stop on the bottom step.

"Some thanks are in order from you, I would think."

Jason stared. "For what?"

"For what I did for you that night a week and a half ago."

Jason paused. He listened hard. If the Darkness spoke to his father at all, he would hear it. He heard nothing.

"Well?"

"Thanks," Jason said.

Henry sighed. "Your mother could have grounded you. She wanted to, for several days afterward. You have me to thank that she didn't."

Jason listened again, trying to let himself remain open to that power even as much as he hated it. Still nothing. "Why did you do it?" Jason heard himself ask.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Yes, why? Why did you cover for me like that?"

When Henry hesitated, Jason understood he had as good as admitted that his description of the events that took place in the picnic area the night of the Rite was only a cover story. "Jason, sometimes a teenager like you has to be allowed to do things on his own. And find out things on his own."

Jason looked for a hidden meaning to his father's words, as they had answered nothing. Jason was no more comfortable with leaving the Book -- or the journal -- out of his sight.

Jason's mother Audrey emerged from the kitchen. "Jason, did you hear me? You're going to be late if you don't--" She stopped short as she beheld the confrontation. Her eyes shifted between them from behind stray strands of auburn hair. "Of all the times you two pick to finally talk to each other," she muttered.

"I'm heading out right now, Mom," Jason said. He started forward and looked at his father in a silent dare. Henry stepped back, arms still folded and gaze still cool, as if he disapproved of the intent to break off the battle.

Audrey sensed the tension and cast an exasperated look at her husband. Henry's face did not change as he turned and headed for the garage.

Guilt weighed on Jason's shoulders once more. He wanted to explain all he knew of Haven to his mother, but it would lead him to accusations that his mother would never accept or fathom.

Jason waited until his father had retreated, then turned towards his mother. "Sorry about that, Mom, I'll try not to pick fights with him anymore."

Audrey appeared surprised, as if she had already set in her mind who the aggressor had been. "Honestly, I don't understand this ... this rivalry between you two! I really want it to stop, I'm about at my wits end with it."

"I'll try, Mom. I'll, um ... I'll see if I can talk to him this weekend."

Audrey's jaw tensed, but she nodded once. "Now, Jason, you really do need to get going or you will miss that bus."

"Sure thing, Mom." Jason kissed his mother on the cheek. "See you this afternoon."

Audrey offered a ghost of a smile before sending her son off with a wave.

Jason dashed out of the house. A stiff gust caught him full in the face and roared past his ears. He turned his head in order to breathe until it relented. Mounds of dirty snow fed rivulets along the sidewalk as the Chinook wind hastened their melt. He turned the corner and saw the school bus parked at the curb and closing its doors. Jason raised a hand and shouted until the bus lurched to a stop with an anguished grind of gears. The door popped open as Jason ran up to it.

"Thanks, Mr. Bradley," Jason gasped as he climbed aboard.

The wizened old man hunched over the wheel glared at him and grunted. He snapped the doors shut and started away from the curb with a ripping noise from the transmission that other students often referred to as "the Bradley fart."

The bus was nearly empty. Jason was one of the earlier pickups. The sole conversation dropped into a short lull when Jason took his seat. Jason expected it would happen again when the other Harbingers boarded.

Stories of their sexual exploits -- some exaggerated, some only scratching the surface -- had become grist for the Haven High rumor mill. The stories were often told with a sense of unease despite the lure of their prurient content. They fell silent when the Harbingers were in earshot, save for curious and nervous whispering amongst themselves, as if they could feel something was just wrong in Haven.

Jason turned towards the window and tried to tune out everything else so he could think.

Ned steps fully onto the dais, raising his shield. "Or has she left some final spell in you, to attack me when my guard is down? Has she possessed you with some sliver of her spirit in hopes that ..."

"No, my Knight," Cassie says. "I am quite sure I am unaffected by any lingering enchantment."

The same dream that Ned had the night before now plays out again. This time, Cassie is prepared. She remembers her "lines" well, and speaks them with confidence. She is even enjoying it.

Ned bows his head. "I am honored you would consider me a knight, Your Majesty, but it is largely luck by which I come by the Shield of Power. Perhaps the fates believed that I will use it wisely."

Not all the lines are the same. Perhaps her greater enthusiasm has affected the outcome. Cassie smiles. "And you have done your task admirably. I thank you for your service to me and to the kingdom."

Yet Ned keeps his shield raised. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I must be sure you are completely free of the sorceress. Please, look at the shield. This will not take long if you indulge me for but a short time."

Cassie levels her eyes with the shield as it is raised before her. The eyes of the dragon glow, and her mind is filled with new purpose: submit and obey.

As before, she can choose her own fate. She does not have to submit. Her emotions are still raw from her midnight dream, and the last thing she desires is to let another decide her actions, even Ned.

Cassie chooses to resist, and soon Ned lowers the shield and looks at her with confusion. "I do not understand this. You should be my ... I mean ..."

"I should be your slave?" Cassie says, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Is that what you are trying to say?"

Ned's eyes widen, and he steps back. "Your Majesty! I would never do such a thing to you!"

"But if you have control of my mind, dear Knight, is that not what would happen?"

Ned opens his mouth, then closes it without a word.

"Would you not be able to do whatever you wish with me were I to submit to your shield's hypnotic powers?"

Cassie's voice is devoid of hostility, and her eyes betray wry amusement. She admits she may be having fun with this. Or perhaps she is becoming what Ned really wants, as she can still sense a guiding hand. It does not control her, but merely shows her a path, and she is choosing to follow.

Ned is too shocked to respond. Finally, he lets out a sigh, and the shield drops to the floor. When he speaks again, his voice is contrite and subdued. "You speak the truth, Your Majesty. I am falling to the same temptation as the sorceress did."

Cassie steps forward and takes the shield into her hands. She knows how it is supposed to he held, to be used ... and how to enslave another's mind with it.

She raises her eyes to Ned. She sees him tremble, but not turn away. "Perhaps, Your Majesty ... Perhaps you should use its power on me, and erase from my mind the desire to use it ever in that manner again."

A tingle passes through Cassie, like a rush of heat. She slips her arm through the straps of the shield and feels its magical power wash over her. Her arm trembles with the desire to brandish the shield at Ned. Heat gathers in her sex. Ned's eyes widen as her arm obeys the impulse and the shield is brought to bear on him.

The magic of the shield strains to be released, begging to be used to capture the will of her victim. Yet this is a dream, and she is in control. Does she feel her own desire, a hidden need to control, to command, to enslave?

She stares at the shield, then at Ned. The heat in her loins burn, her breath becomes short. She imagines him at her feet, waiting on her command, her pleasure his world. Her eyes widen as a tiny smile comes to Ned's lips. Is he anticipating what she may do to him? Or is he amused at her reluctance?

"I-I can't," Cassie moans, letting the arm holding the shield drop. The straps slip from her arm, and the shield clatters to the floor. "I won't."

"But, Your Majesty, I ... I want you to do this."

Cassie gasps. "What?"

Ned draws close. "You must do it. It is only right and fair, as I desired to do it to you. You were indeed correct. I did want to make you my slave. It is only fitting that--"

Cassie shook her head. "I said I won't do it. I shouldn't try to control you. I shouldn't WANT to control you!"

And yet, her loins still burn, and her sex still aches ...

Cassie flinched as her eyes flew open.

She moaned and struggled to sit up, her breathing still labored. Her hand trembled as she raised it to her forehead. Her surroundings swam in a distorted abstract of throne room and bedroom. When she finally sat up, she wondered if she should have stayed in the dream long enough to see who was knocking at the throne room door.

"Miss Kendall? Are you all right?"

Cassie jumped, and the shock yanked her back into reality. She heard the knock at her own bedroom door now. "Um ... yes ... yes, James, I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you sure? You sound a bit off. Shall I summon the family physician?"

"No!" Cassie cried. She took a deep breath and swept her gaze around the room in an attempt to ground her in reality. "No, I said I'm okay."

"Will you emerge shortly? Your driver is waiting to take you to school."

Cassie looked at the clock, but a few more seconds passed before she could comprehend the numbers as she wondered why such a contraption was in a throne room. "Goodness ... um, I just overslept a bit, James, I should be ready soon."

Cassie threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. She rushed about and began to set out her clothes.

"Very well, Miss Kendall. Be advised that your mother is not happy about you missing breakfast. I will inform her you will be out shortly."

Cassie frowned at the door and wished she had the courage to give voice to what she was thinking, even if just to the retreating footsteps of the butler. If mother really cared to have me at breakfast for more than just a showpiece to her friends, she would have gotten me up earlier.

And if they did care, she believed, her parents would have noticed that this happened the same time every year. She shook her head. Her anger was misplaced. She gave up worrying about her relationship to her parents a long time ago.

Cassie tried to force all distractions from her mind. Yet when she stripped off her night clothes, she had to peel wet panties from her mound.

She sighed and turned towards the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door and gazed at her naked body. Her eyes slid down to the reflection of her pussy and the moisture that glistened on her folds.

She rejected the idea of a repressed desire. She had no urge to control others. Nyssa had planted that inside her, and that had gone away once the Harbingers had freed her.

Yet her pussy would not stop tingling as she thought about it.

Cassie spun away from her image and dressed for school.

Heather and Melinda rushed towards the front door, Melinda just ahead of her sister. Melinda had opened the front door when a voice called out from the kitchen.

"Heather, wait, I want to talk to you."

Heather spun around. Penny Sovert walked up, her white terrycloth robe a sharp relief against her writhing Dark Aura. Melinda frowned and narrowed her eyes, hand still on the knob of the front door.

Penny gazed past Heather. "Alone, if you please. And don't leave the door open like that and let all the heat out."

Melinda threw the door closed, folded her arms, and leaned against it. She scrutinized her mother with an icy gaze.

"Melinda, did you hear me?"

"Every word. No way I'm leaving you alone with my sister."

Penny sighed and ran her fingers through her copper-red hair. "I'm not in the mood for this today, Melinda."

"Why, what are you in the mood for? You going to fool around with her like you did with me that night?"

"I will not have you talking about that anymore in this house."

"Why not? What's the point in ignoring it? We know who's side you're on!"

Heather turned around. "Melinda, please, don't do this. Just wait by the bus stop for me, okay? Try to get old man Bradley to wait if he gets here before I'm ready."

"But I can't just leave you alone with her!"

"I can take care of myself, runt," Heather said. One corner of her mouth rose. "But ... thank you."

Melinda sighed. "Fine. But I see anything on you, you're going to the back of the bus!"

She whirled around, her hair flying and slapping her sister's arm as she pulled open the door. She yanked it closed behind her with a slam that rattled the living room window.

Heather turned back to her mother. Penny frowned. "Really, Heather, I wish you'd keep more control over her."

"Is that your answer to everything now, Mom?" Heather said. "Control it? Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not intending to make her my slave again."

Penny clenched the edges of her robe and pulled, wrapping the robe closer around her body. "I didn't mean it that way, but never mind. Heather, I need to talk to you about the Halloween party."

Heather tensed. "What about it?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Why? What do you want to do with me?"

"Nothing. I just ... it ... it might not be safe for you on Halloween, that's all."

Heather snorted. "So nice of you to start warning me now."

"I am not going to spar with you!" Penny declared. "Just listen to me for once. Stay home on Halloween."

"Well, you know, Mom, I'd actually love to do what you want, but I have to be there. It's a punishment."

Penny's fingers tightened around the edges of the robe. "A punishment? For what?"

Her mother's ignorance surprised her. She was sure the school would have called her about it by now. Her cheeks reddened as she spoke. "For being controlled into masturbating in class, that's why."

Penny's eyes widened. "Heather, who did that to you?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Was it that Melissa girl?"

"Why should you care?" Heather demanded, her voice rising. "Not like you would've done anything to stop it. You already showed us how much you care when Nyssa was around."

Penny lay her hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. "Heather ... I don't have the ability to go against something like that," she said in a soft voice. "I can't just ... Heather!"

Heather was heading for the door. Penny ran up grabbed Heather's arm. "Listen to me," Penny said in a low, urgent voice. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I've been trying to tell you all along. Don't interfere. Just mind your own business and keep your head down."

"And what's that supposed to do, huh? Oh, so the Darkness will just ignore little old me and let me go about my merry way, right?"

Penny opened her mouth, then closed it again without uttering a word.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'm just trying to protect you as much as I can!"

"Look, you want to do something nice for me? You obviously know something is going to happen on Halloween. What is it? And who's going to get in trouble for it?"

Penny shook her head, her eyes dark. "Don't ask me questions you know I can't answer."

Heather restrained herself from shouting at her mother and wondered if Melinda had been right. Perhaps their mother had descended so far into the Darkness that it could prohibit the words from reaching her mouth.

Now Heather had a thousand questions, but foremost was why. Why did her mother go over to the Darkness in the first place? A moment of weakness? A sacrifice so the Darkness would spare her children?

Heather was torn by the dilemma of whether to feel anger or pity.

"I have to go," Heather said. She let herself out, leaving Penny brooding at the closed door in her wake.

The bus shuddered to the curb, and the doors opened with a squeal and a hiss. Richie popped up the stairs as the wind whipped around him. He raised his hand and exchanged a high-five with Jason. "'Sup?" Richie grunted as he fell into the seat next to his friend.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Jason replied as the doors snapped closed. "Things okay with you?"

"Yeah, man, they're cool. Why?"

"You didn't call me last night."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, guess I just sorta spaced it. Got, uh, kinda busy."

"Anything you need to tell me about?"

"Nah. Just my Mom bugging me to spend more time with her, that sorta thing."

Jason nodded. He saw the furtive look in Richie's eyes, but said nothing. Richie was disturbed by something, but Jason did not want to push it and risk pushing him instead.

"Hey, uh, you said you found out something about my Dad?" Richie asked.

"A little." He pulled out the printout from his book-bag, but then paused. "You want me to wait until we're not in such a public place?"

Richie waved a hand and smirked. "Think I care what this load of freaks thinks of me anymore?" he said, jerking his thumb towards the back of the bus. Someone nearby muttered to his friend, pointed towards Richie, and snickered. Richie yanked the printout from Jason's hands and smacked the boy across the side of the head. "Yeah, I fuckin' heard that, wiseass. Try telling that to my face after school."

The boy shrank in his seat and pretended to find something interesting out the window.

Richie handed the printout back to Jason and smirked at Jason's sigh. "Sorry, dude."

Jason smoothed out the pages against his leg. "I know you don't always want the girls to hear ..."

The door opened again, and a burst of wind tried to tear the pages from his hands again. Heather and Melinda dashed up the steps, hair obscuring their faces until the door closed. Richie glanced at them and shrugged. "Nah, I'm fine if they hear."

"Hear what?" Melinda demanded, still irritated at what Heather had recounted of her discussion with their mother.

"All the dirt on my father," Richie said with a wry grin.

Melinda's eyes widened. "What dirt? Why, did he do something bad?"

"Yeah, the Darkness made him rob a bank and hijack a plane."

Melinda gasped, then narrowed her eyes. "Oh, he did not!"

"Then he really got down and dirty and did some jaywalking and littering."

Melinda folded her arms and huffed. Richie snickered. Jason coughed to hide his amusement behind his hand. Heather made no attempt to hide her own smirk.

"Fine!" Melinda declared. "You all go make fun of me. Meanwhile, my own mother knows what's going to happen to Heather on Halloween."

Jason stared. "Wait, what?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "Stop being the drama queen, runt. She did not say that."

"But she knows something about it. That's what you said!"

Richie's eyes darted between Melinda and Heather.

"Is that true, Heather?" Jason asked.

"I can't trust anything she says anymore," Heather said. "But, yeah, she made it sound like she knows something about it."

"Yeah, she fucking knows something, all right," Richie muttered.

All eyes turned to him. "And how do you know?" Melinda demanded.

"Got hold of the Reverend's wallet at church yesterday ..." he began, and explained what he had heard, though he left out the part about the proposition.

"Ohmigod, that bi ... that ... shit!" Melinda blushed at having nearly voiced what to her was the most vile epithet she could deliver against another female. "God! She's just waiting to turn us both over to the Darkness, I know it!"

"Pipe down, will you?!" Heather hissed through her teeth.

"I don't care anymore, Heather. This isn't fair. We're not safe outside, we're not safe at school, we're not even safe at home!"

Jason sighed. "Um ... about school ..."

"Yeah, fine, Jason, tell us about what new monster we have to deal with," Melinda grumbled.

Jason adjusted his glasses. "Look, it might be nothing. But when I was ... poking around on my computer," he said, using the euphemism they had established for talking about his hacking when in mixed company, "I found out that there's been a new counselor assigned to the school for this week."

"Aw, crap," Richie groaned.

"Shit!" Melinda spat again. "Great! Nyssa Part Two!"

"Well, maybe not," Jason said. "For one thing, it's a guy. For another, I didn't find anything about any new program or anything hinting that students were going to be required to see him. It could be just a coincidence."

"But how do we know for sure?" Heather asked.

"For fuck's sake, just go look at the dude," Richie said. "See if he has any Dark shit on him. That's how we always do it."

"Yeah, we saw how great that worked with Nyssa," Melinda sneered.

"That was different," said Jason. "We didn't know that the effect of the Aura could be nullified in the right circumstances."

The Harbingers had discovered that staring long enough at someone who was afflicted with an Aura, especially if it were someone close or possessing supernatural power, could cause the Aura to vanish. Heather and Melinda had used the technique to make living with their mother more tolerable, but they had abandoned that soon after Nyssa was defeated. Now they needed the constant reminder to keep them on their guard.

"All right, how about if we all get a look at him at some point?" Heather asked.

"And get controlled by him?" Melinda said. "Yeah, brilliant plan, bubblehead."

"Look at him from a distance, you midget. Jason said we won't have to go see him. Just go by his office or something."

"Really, I think this is going to turn out to be nothing," said Jason. "The Darkness would be stupid to try the exact same ploy twice. Believe me, I felt anything but stupidity that night."

Jason shivered at the memory. After Melissa's fall, the Darkness had manifested as much as its limited energies had allowed. In those few moments, Jason shared a mental link with it and sensed an intelligence. The only thing that stopped it from complete mastery of the town was lack of freedom of movement. The node at the confluence of the lines of force under Haven was its prison, its hold over Haven tenuous compared to what it could accomplish were it free.

The bus turned west onto Main Street in its final run up to the school. Wind whistled through the gap in the door and lashed the evergreens along the side of the road. It roared against the windshield and rattled the glass whenever the bus slowed in traffic.

Jason felt the windstorm was quite apposite, a force that would neither abate nor be deterred by their efforts. They could only plow into it and fight to hold their ground.

He turned to Richie. "Um, I better talk to you about what I have on the printout, since I'll never hold onto it in the schoolyard with this wind."

"Huh? Oh, sure, man," Richie said. "Whatcha got?"

"You were right in that there were some really odd things about your parents' divorce case," Jason said. "Like it being heard in a court in Haven instead of Randall where your parents' official residence was at the time."

"My Mom was getting us moved to this shithole, though."

"Yes, but the change of address was not filed until after the divorce. And what's more ..." Jason shuffled through the papers he held. "... I found a copy of a court docket dated October 26th, 1995, for the divorce case of Michael and Sandra Hendon ..."

"Hendon?" Melinda said. "Thought your last name was Gardner."

"My father's last name, doofus," Richie snapped.

"Hey, don't go calling ...!"

"In Randall," Jason declared.

Richie's gaze snapped back to Jason. "Huh? Randall? But like you just said, they divorced in ..."

"... Haven on November 1st, I know."

"So what happened? Who got it moved?"

"I don't know. But apparently the judge who was supposed to hear the case, um ..." He consulted the pages again. "... the Honorable Justina Felman had filed for some sort of investigation. Besides no one showing up at court, she claimed there were some irregularities in the paperwork and wanted to call up both sides' lawyers on the carpet for it."

Richie frowned. "Okay, so what the hell does that all mean?"

"It means something funny was going on even in the court system."

"See what I mean?" Melinda cried. "Nothing is safe!"

"Unfortunately, Melinda may have a point," Jason said. "The investigation was never followed up because Judge Felman just disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Heather said, leaning forward. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can find no mention of her ever again after that. In the next election cycle in November of 1996, her seat on the bench is listed as vacant. No explanation on how it became vacant, and on the official records, Judge Felman's tenure is listed as 1987 to 1996. It's like they pretended she was still there, but she really wasn't. At least there's no record of her ever hearing any more cases after that. And no record of her taking a leave of absence, or being removed from the bench, or dying, or anything."

"That's a little scary, Jason," Heather said in a quavering voice.

"A little??" Melinda said. "Randall is freaking forty miles away! And the Darkness managed to do something over there?"

"I don't really know if it was the Darkness that did it," Jason said. "I mean, think about it. If it had that kind of power back then, why would it be fighting against us now? It could just roll over us and be done with it. Or we wouldn't even be talking about this now because the town would already be under its thrall."

Or my Dad did something to stop it, Richie thought.

Richie was desperate for an anchor, something to ground him, and believing that his father had done something heroic would have been perfect. But suggesting such a thing would leave him open to being shot down by Melinda's snide remarks or Jason's unassailable logic.

Jason gathered the pages and stuffed them into his book-bag. "That's all I have, Richie, I'm sorry," he said. "I know it really asks more questions than it answers."

Richie shrugged. "It's cool. I knew my Dad didn't just run out on us, the fucking Darkness drove him out."

"Of course he didn't run out!" Melinda piped. "Why'd you think something like that in the first place? He wouldn't've given you that baseball if he was planning to skip out on you. I mean, duh."

Richie's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "Thanks."

Melinda cast a faint smile in return.

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