The cold clings to her skin once more as she passes through the veil. Her skin is clammy, as if the dark itself has condensed on her body. She looks down at herself, though she already knows the truth. Applying her will had done nothing, she still emerged into this domain naked and vulnerable.

The icy chill feels like spikes rising from the floor as her bare feet touch unyielding stone. The quiet is unnerving, her own heavy breath too loud. She cannot slow her breathing, as if the air is too dead or too stale.

The unearthly sob echoes through the dark passage ahead, and she flinches at the sound despite expecting it. She advances, the passage like a narrow throat swallowing her towards the innards of a place that seems both dead and alive.

Cassie lifts a trembling hand ahead of her. She cannot see it through the gloom. Her breath is heavy and harsh, her fear a dank cloud that gels around her body, making movement difficult. Her heart thumps each time she tries to push against it and hasten her progress.

Cassie lowers her hand and creeps forward; she moves with ease. She tries to move a little faster; her legs become heavy and weak.

The sobs swell from the gray-black ahead of her, vague shapes taunting her from the distance. An invisible wave sweeps over her, and she staggers from the raw tide of emotion. She wraps her arms around herself, for a moment feeling as helpless the one ahead of her.

Cassie forces herself to lower her arms. She clenches her hands into fists and pushes forward. The unseen force tries to keep her to the same script. She feels a sense of rising danger. Is it her or someone else? Her own feelings spin in the same whirlpool as those of the girl ahead of her. She cannot tell which emotions are her own.

The darkness takes shape ahead of her, and the resistance falls away. Cassie jogs forward, ignoring the numbness in her feet. The cage rises in her midst so fast that she grips the bars to stop herself.

Cassie gasps as she gazes upon the girl. She lies on her side, knees drawn to her chest, her face turned to the floor, hair splayed like a ragged mop. She is naked, her sex protruding between her thighs. The girl suddenly shivers and utters a distressed moan.

"I-it won't stop," the girl gasps, breathless. "Keeps making me do it ... and again today ... t-too soon ... too much ..."

Cassie opens her mouth to speak, but her throat closes up. She blinks away tears, and her head twitches. Her gaze is supposed to go to the latch now, and see how easy it is to open, only to hear ...

Cassie grips the bars until her knuckles turn white. "What is he making you do?" Cassie chokes out.

The girl whimpers and cowers, raising her arms over her head.

"Tell me, please! What is it is he--?"

"I-I wish I could escape," the girl moans. "I want to get out of this. I want to be myself again."

Cassie's lips part, her eyes wide. She forgets herself, turns from the bars, and reaches for the latch. Another moment and the poor girl would be free. Another moment and ...

Her breath catches in her throat as the footsteps approach from the darkness.

Cassie swallows hard. Her breath sinks like lead into her lungs, and she is unable to exhale. Her throat closes up, hand shaking only inches from the latch. She could do it. She could let the girl go. The girl's jailer could not possibly get there in time.

The footsteps become a steady beat, a perfect, crisp rhythm of hard leather against stone. Each step is like a soft tap against Cassie's mind. Her breath finally lets go, but her breathing falls into the same rhythm, and her thoughts begin to retreat into a gray haze.

Another for the cage. Another to keep. This is how it is always done. Just accept it, and forget about ...

Cassie whimpers and wrenches herself away from the cage. Her feet slip out from under her and spill her to the floor. The air seems to freeze around her, as if trying to encase her in ice. She draws in a deep breath and breaks free, bolting to her feet and down the corridor.

"Don't leave me!" the girl wails. "Not yet! I need your help! YOU HAVE TO HELP!"

Tears blur her eyes, but she blinks them away. Her teeth clench as she fights to stave off panic. Her footsteps are quick but measured. She will leave on her own terms.

She's fooling herself. There are no terms. There is only the reality that is determined for her.

"Stop it!" she screams as she tears through the gloom.

Accept it. Live with it. It will be over in a week. Then it can be forgotten. Such a small price to pay for peace of mind.

"Not if I don't know ..."

" ... my own mind!"

Cassie's eyes darted about the darkness of her room, heart pounding under her hand. She found the light from the bathroom and focused on it to hasten her return to reality. The footsteps echoed for a few seconds longer, but no longer held their power of command and fear. Her panic eased.

She dropped her face into her hands, letting out a short sigh through her fingers. When her hands fell away again, she saw that the room looked brighter than she expected. She looked at the clock, and to her surprise discovered it was already just short of five AM.

Cassie saw this as a hopeful sign. She had managed to pull the nightmare away from the midnight hour, when it seemed her Dream Gift did not work as well.

She lay back down, but sleep would not come for her any more that morning. Small consolation that she would not have time to try out her new dream powers with Ned as she had promised. He would be disappointed, but she was relieved.

She got out of bed and headed to the teapot in the bathroom. While the water heated, she returned to the bedroom and fell onto the edge of the bed.

Too many questions spun through Cassie's mind. If only she knew who the girl was! That alone might answer so many of them, or give Jason a name to research. She vowed to use whatever control she gained over her dream to discover the girl's identity.

And, she hoped, confirm that the girl existed in the land of the living.

January 5th, 1960 - Dear Goddess, it's cold! This must be the coldest I've seen it for some time. It's too cold to go out, so I took the opportunity to enchant a few protection pendants. They've been in such high demand since people started worrying about the "commies" dropping atomic bombs on us. I refrain from telling them that they won't do much good against something like that.

Jason shook his head and skimmed down to another entry.

February 10th, 1960 - Oh, I am quite pleased with myself today. Mr. Tate told me that the last salve I made for the dreadful itching on his burn scars worked really well. Now I can make more for a few others I know that have the same problem. I have to wonder just what they got into up there on the mountain when they got caught in that wildfire last year.

Jason was tempted to read more. He had discovered from previous research that a nasty wildfire had burned the side of the mountain just west of town, near the military base. The fire had spawned many strange stories and wild tales, but it had nothing to do with what he was researching now. He skipped ahead further.

March 12th, 1960 - Well, well, well, FINALLY figured out what that little "haunting" was at the Hanners. When I finally convinced them to let me do some aura readings on them, I discovered that their "poltergeist" was their fourteen year old daughter Jennifer. The poor thing is in the throes of a late-onset puberty, and her stuffy, morally uptight parents are of little use. All that pent-up sexual energy has to go somewhere!

She was channeling it into physical manifestation without realizing it. I am both proud and terribly guilty about what I did to fix it. I took Jenny aside and showed her how to masturbate (and how to do it QUIETLY). Then I did a bit of phony mumbo-jumbo in front of her parents and pronounced the spirit "exorcised." We'll see if it works. I'm betting it will.

Jason made note of the entry. This might be the start of what he was looking for. He didn't have far to go to find more.

March 27th, 1960 - I just had to find out. I went to the Hanners again. Sure enough, the parents claim that everything is as it should be, though I had to coax it out of them. At first they didn't want anyone noticing me standing on their front porch. Maybe word got around in their stuffy little community that some normally upright Christians had hired a Witch. But what really convinced me that I had done the right thing was Jenny. She was a lot less withdrawn and a lot more happy than I had remembered her. She gave me a wide smile and a little wink when she was sure her parents were not looking.

I'm going to have to keep an eye on her. The fact that a repressed sexuality could trigger telekinetic activity tells me that sexual energy could be harnessed in some manner.

Jason craned his neck and looked at the clock. He had only another five minutes before he had to leave. He wished he had had enough time the night before to read the journal, but he had been busy with all the other research projects.

He also had a new distraction: the Book.

A simple tug at the back of his mind when he came home from school ended with the Book open in his lap by evening. He would rife through the pages, expecting to see something different but not knowing why. The Book would be returned to its hiding place, only to be in his lap again an hour later.

Now the ritual wanted to begin in the morning. His eyes drifted from the journal towards the shadows under the bed.

Jason sighed. He saved his latest changes to the journal index and shut down his computer. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and pulled out the Book.

The gold inlaid eye peered at him from the leather cover. He sometimes expected it to come to life and swivel towards him, as if someone were still watching him as Melissa had done.

Or judging him.

His fingers curled into the leather and crinkled the pages. He had no worries about damaging the Book. It would repair whatever damage he did to it. But nothing was said about what damage it could be doing to him.

He dropped the Book and kicked it back under the bed. He grabbed the box containing the pendant fragments, opened it, and plucked out the piece still attached to the chain.

Jason had carried the fragment with him the day before, again without knowing why. It could not tell him if someone were stealing the Book if he did not wear it, and he had refused to do so, despite all reassurances that nothing was left of the Darkness in the pendant.

So, what am I afraid of? he thought.

He stood up, holding the fragment by its chain and letting it twirl in the morning light, the metal still shiny as if he had just polished it. He had no answer for his own question.

Jason undid the clasp and fit the chain around his neck. The fragment fell against his shirt, only two points of a fractured pentagram. He walked towards the door to put some distance between him and the Book.

Jason stiffened. For a moment, he thought he had felt ... no, heard something. He clutched the fragment and pulled until the chain dug into the back of his neck. He forced himself to relent and let it go.

No, I would know it if the Darkness was still in this pendant, Jason thought.

He received no actual sense of the Book. No presence appeared in his mind or even a feel for where it was in the room.

Jason glanced at the clock. It was about time for him to leave.

He wanted to try one more thing. Melissa had received her strongest impressions when the Harbingers were holding the Book. He fished the Book out from under the bed once more.

As he lifted it into his arms, the gold inlay caught the light, the eye flashing gold as if drawing on him like a searchlight. A tingling sensation rippled through his arms and into his body, and an eerie, ghostly afterimage followed his hands like an analog TV broadcast just out of focus.

Not yet.

"What?!"

The Book slipped from his hands and thudded to the floor. He leapt back and stared as if the Book had suddenly turned into a pack of snakes. He swallowed hard and gripped the pendant piece, drawing the chain tight once more. He stared at the eye, expecting it to glow acid green as it had when Melissa had communed with it. It remained gold, but he was sure now that it was glowing.

Not ready.

The voice was much fainter this time. The glow faded as well, and the Book became inert.

"What do you mean?" Jason demanded. "Not ready for what?"

He received only silence in return.

His hand gripped the pendant until pain needled his fingers. "Dammit, answer me," he growled through clenched teeth. "Not ready for what? And who are you? What are--?"

"Jason?"

Jason forced himself to let go of the pendant fragment. Two red welts dotted his fingers. "Um, what is it, Mom?"

"You know very well what it is, young man. You are close to being late for the bus. Again. This is not going to be a habit with you, I can tell you that. Get down here now!"

Jason had hoped that his mother would not still be upset over her father missing dinner yet again the night before. The number of late nights his father put in at the hospital had escalated since construction started on the new wing.

Jason fumbled with the clasp as he raced towards his book-bag. He kicked the Book under the bed. "Coming right now, Mom!" He stuffed the pendant fragment into his pocket, grabbed his book-bag and headed out the door in the space of a single breath.

"Victor? Victor, wait!"

Victor continued his march towards the administrative area. Rapid footsteps closed behind him, and he did not stop and turn around until he was just within sight of Marcie's desk. "Terri, I am very busy this morning. Make it short."

Terri's face betrayed a small frown of annoyance before she could mask it and flash a smile. "You might not want to talk about it here in the hall. I was hoping to catch you in your office."

Victor folded his hands behind his back. He took a step closer, such that his face filled her view. "I would appreciate it if you avoided associating with me too openly," he said in a low voice. "It is not as bad now when there are no students present, but I do not want this to become a bad habit."

"And why not?"

Victor cast a level gaze at her.

Terri shrunk, her eyes wavering. "I mean ... not that I would question your wishes, but I am curious."

"I should not need to spell it out for you. It is best others do not know we share any association outside of this school."

"Very well. But I thought you would want to speak about Heather."

Victor heard a faint sound behind him, like a scuff of a shoe on carpet. "Heather Sovert?" he said in a clear voice.

Terri smirked. "And what other girl named Heather is there?"

"What of her?"

"I thought you should know that I made rather good progress with her already. I should be able to take her much further today. I might even have her meet me after school, certainly by tomorrow if not today."

Victor folded his arms and nodded once.

She's pathetic if she thinks she can get one of the Harbingers that easily, the Darkness sneered. But she has to keep them distracted. And you have to get after that Book.

Victor responded with only a simple mental acknowledgment He had been on his way to start that endeavor when Terri had stopped him. He did not take the time to explain how he was using the encounter to his advantage.

Terri tilted her head. "Is that all? No comment?"

"Do you need one?"

Terri hesitated. "I thought you might want to--"

"I will comment when I see a need and not a moment before. I am leaving her in your hands for a reason, Terri."

Terri's lips curled into an evil smile. "Then you are considering her."

"Again, I reserve judgment for now."

Terri nodded, looking smug. "I knew I could get you to see things my way. You just wait, Victor. You won't be sorry."

She headed away. Once more came the sound of a scuffing shoe behind Victor. He turned in time to see Marcie's eyes avert from what he assumed was Laura retreating into her office. The door clicked shut a moment later as Victor strode forward.

"Miss Fuller," said Victor. "I would like a moment of Ms. Bendon's time."

Marcie smiled, her eyes hovering between dreamy and sultry as she stood. "Mmm, yes, Doctor Mann, I'll check for you."

Victor watched Marcie step out from behind the desk, her hips swaying in a subtle but sensual movement. He sensed the constant, low-level sexual arousal, which spiked when she cracked open the door and cast her eyes on her Mistress.

"Doctor Mann to see you, Ms. Bendon," she said.

"Send him in, Marcie."

Victor saw as well as sensed the shiver of pleasure that rippled through Marcie's body. "Mmm, yes, Ms. Bendon," she gushed in a breathy voice. She turned to Victor. "She'll see you now, Doctor Mann."

"Thank you."

Marcie smiled and sat down. A tiny sigh escaped her lips as her pussy throbbed in a gentle orgasm of reward.

Victor's gaze lingered on her and passed silent judgment. The method was so crude as to be revolting. A total enslavement by brute force was no better than manipulating a puppet. It gave him insight into Laura's methods and mindset.

Victor let himself in. Laura Bendon leaned forward and laced her fingers together. "Yes, Victor, what may I do for you?"

He heard the edge of sarcasm in her voice. He let her have the illusion that she had hid it from him. "It came to my attention this morning that you have a rule requiring me to seek your permission before requesting that students come see me."

"It is important that the students do not miss their normal classes if it can be avoided, as their academic achievement must be first and foremost on my mind," said Laura, her words as smooth as if she had prepared them ahead of time. "I am sure you understand."

Victor understood that she perceived a loss of control over her queendom and now intended to reclaim it. "Of course. Therefore, I am here to fulfill that requirement and request permission to call two students from their normal classes for sessions with me today."

"Two?"

"The first is Gina Caligano. In fact, I would prefer to have blanket permission for sessions each day this week. I have already seen her once."

"As I am well aware," said Laura, a chill to her voice. She leaned back in her chair. "And I hope you are aware that I do not wish to see her miss that many classes."

"I can move the appointment around so it is not always the same class."

Laura drummed her fingers on her knee. "And who is your second one? Or should I guess?"

Victor felt satisfied that Laura had all but admitted that she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Terri. "Diane Woodrow."

Laura's eyebrows rose. "Why her?"

"It is my understanding that she, as they say, 'came out of the closet' in a rather abrupt and public way. I wish to interview her to see if she is suffering from any adjustment issues or problems with her peers."

Laura smirked. "It won't work."

Victor smiled. "Pardon?"

"You think she's the weak link in the chain, and maybe she is. But remember what I told you before. They'll see it."

"See what?"

Laura slapped her hand on the desk and shot to her feet. "Stop playing these games! We've already established that you have an agenda here."

"Yes, one that is still my business and not yours."

"I can deny your permission."

"Indeed, you can."

"And if I did, what would you do?"

Victor heard the anxiety in her voice, and a touch of fear as well. He reasoned that she was unsure of how her power would match against his. "I would attempt to persuade you otherwise."

Her fear spiked, but only Victor would have sensed it. She narrowed her eyes. "I would be careful about how far you push things, Victor. Very careful. I have my own agenda as well, and I do not want to see it interfered with."

"I have no intention of involving myself in your machinations, whatever they may be," Victor said. "Or who they involve."

Laura cast a cold look at him. She let out a sigh and fell into her seat. "Fine. Permission granted. It will be amusing watching you fail."

Victor smiled and headed out without another word.

"You can what?!" Melinda screeched.

Richie thrust his hands into his pockets and drew in his shoulders. He wished he had thought to tell just Jason and let him tell the others instead of waiting until they were all standing the school parking lot. "I ain't sayin' it again," he muttered. "It was bad enough the first time."

"That's just really really creepy, Richie."

"Hey, I didn't ask for this! And what's so fucking creepy about it anyway?"

"What's not creepy about it!"

"Oh, chill out, runt," Heather said.

"He just told us he can talk to the dead!"

"I didn't say that!" Richie bellowed.

"It's practically the same thing!"

"Fuck you, Melinda! You know, I didn't have to tell you all this shit, I coulda just--"

Jason slapped Richie's shoulder. "I'm glad you did."

"Glad someone 'preciates it," Richie mumbled.

"It's not talking to the dead," Cassie said, though her voice quavered. "Not exactly, anyway."

"Look, it's not like I can ask them questions and get answers," Richie said. "It don't work that way. It's like with living people. I just get what they were thinking of at the time."

"But they're dead!" Melinda cried. "What the hell thoughts is a dead person going to have?!"

"Hey, I read something about this," Ned said. "Something about people leavin' behind some sorta psychic presence when they die. I mean, I thought it was a buncha hooey when I first heard it, but now I dunno."

"It's called a 'ghost,' and they don't exist," Melinda declared.

"Yeah, but mind-controllin' entities made of black smoke ain't s'posed ta exist neither."

Melinda shivered. "Oh shut up, Ned. This is stupid, I'm going inside."

"Melinda? Melinda, wait, please," Jason called out, but Melinda jogged away and dashed up the steps of the school as if pursued.

"Huh," Ned said. "Didn't mean ta upset her."

Heather shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Look, Melinda's probably going to give me hell for telling you this, but she's got this real fear about anything to do with dead people. Can't even get her to go within a block of the cemetery."

"How'd she get that?" Ned asked. "And please don't tell me it's cuz ya all had a zombie uprising."

"Mom forced us to go to a wake when we were little kids. Open casket."

Diane shivered. "Ooo, I hate those myself."

"One of Melinda's friends spooked her with some crazy story of someone rising from the casket during one of those wakes," Heather said. "Then some idiot at the wake dropped something in the casket. The funeral director went to retrieve it and had to lift the arm to get it out just as Melinda looked."

"Oh goodness," Cassie said.

Heather made a "zoom" motion with her hand. "Outta there like a shot, screaming at the top of her little lungs. She could shatter glass with that scream of hers back then."

"She never got over it?" Diane asked.

Heather averted her eyes and twirled a lock of her hair. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly sympathetic at the time and sort of used it against her sometimes. Let's leave it at that."

And here I am freaking out just because of these weird dreams, Cassie thought. She stepped over to Richie. "I think you're right, you can't talk to the dead. It's more like what Ned said, that there's something lingering afterward that you can sense."

Richie nodded. "Like unfinished business, something like that?"

Cassie looked thoughtful. "I suppose it could be. Did it sound like that to you? Like the person wanted to do or say something before they died?"

Richie had not shared exactly what he had heard, and he had not mentioned Toldon at all. "Yeah, something like that. The dude in the cemetery yesterday had, uh, killed someone so he was going on about that."

"Oh, goodness! A murderer?"

Richie frowned. "Don't freak out about it, 'kay? It was years ago and people knew he did it. No great unsolved crime. Good riddance to the fucker. Look, it's not like this thing is gonna be useful. Not like we need to go digging up graves anywhere."

Cassie nodded, but she exchanged a look with Jason and was sure they were thinking the same thing: every one of their abilities had a use.

"Hey, not ta spoil the fun of talkin' 'bout the dearly departed," said Ned, "But I was wonderin' if Jason found out anything about the psychiatric wonder gracin' us with his presence at the school."

Jason fished out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Let's see ... he's thirty two, he has a PhD in general psychiatry, a Masters in psychoanalysis and social counseling. His thesis concerned social maladjustment among teenagers and suggested several novel approaches to dealing with them. He works for a local outfit called the Haven Counseling Group and is considered an outstanding member." He looked up. "That's about it."

"Novel approaches, huh?"

"I didn't read the whole paper, just the abstract. I didn't see anything that stood out as odd. It was accepted by an accredited college and later published in a respected journal. Nothing untoward about it at all."

"Ya found nothin'? Not even a jaywalkin' ticket?"

"Well, I didn't go that far into his personal life, and there wasn't much to be had before his college days, but no, I didn't see anything bad at all."

Ned frowned. "Yeah, he's jus' a regular Mr. Clean, ain't he?"

Richie smirked. "You think he's a phony, too, huh?"

"Does a bear crap in the woods?"

"But no one saw any Aura on him," Diane said. "Right?"

"Don't hafta have an Aura to be a fucking tool," Richie grumbled.

"But that's not the same thing," Heather said. "Look, we have enough to worry about. Can't we just accept that he's on the up-and-up and move on?"

Cassie hated having to side against Ned. "We really need to focus on what's going on with Terri Hollis, if we want to protect Heather," she said.

Diane stepped closer to her lover as a show of support. That no one noticed the gesture or how little she had participated in the discussion reinforced her own opinion of herself: she was little more than the lover of someone who happened to be in the Harbingers instead of a true Harbinger herself.

"I don't know what else we can do," said Jason. "It makes it difficult when none of us are actually in any of Heather's classes."

"Can't anyone find an excuse to leave their classroom during third period?" Diane asked, her unsettled thoughts making her voice sharper than intended. "I mean, even if you only peek through the window in the door to see if she's okay? What's so hard about that?"

"Or ta see what fandango Ms. Hollis has the class doin' today," Ned quipped.

"Or check if Heather gets any sort of Aura when it does happen," Cassie added.

"I'll do it," Richie said. "Not like I wouldn't mind a break from Miss Lizard-Face."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Yeah, not like you wouldn't want to see me doing it in the middle of class, huh?"

"Richie, thanks for volunteering," Jason said before Richie could retort. "Just make a note of anything you see and don't let Ms. Hollis catch you looking."

Richie nodded, then looked back at Heather. "Okay, yeah, maybe I like looking at you naked. But don't wanna see no one fuck with your head, either."

Both his sympathy and honesty surprised Heather into silence.

Cassie glanced at the thinning crows of students in the parking lot, and then at the glowering form of the Vice Principal at the top of the steps. "We better get inside. Let's try to meet after Heather's class."

As they all rushed towards the stairs, Heather cast a lingering and clandestine look at Richie. Accepting him as a member of the Harbingers again had been more difficult for her than she had cared to admit. When Richie had saved her from Melissa, her opinion of him had softened for only as long as it took the euphoria of their victory to wear off. She expected him to gloat or insist that they forget he ever ran to Nyssa.

Now Heather saw him a different light, dispelling her notion of the ogre that cared only for sex laden with adolescent porn fantasies. Even the sex he forced upon her in the House was not that bad in retrospect, and he was by no means unattractive. If it had not been for his particular tastes, she may have considered ...

Heather caught herself and shook her head. Nevertheless, a tiny shiver passed through her body, and wet warmth lingered in her sex.

Gina arrived in her homeroom class to an envelope on her desk marked with her name. Inside was a yellow absence excuse slip for her second class that morning, along with a handwritten note: Please present the enclosed absence slip to your second class teacher and report to my office -- Victor.

Gina's skin flushed with anticipation. She felt better today. No strange voices sounded in her head, nor did questions contrary to her mother's wisdom arise in her head.

But how did he do it?

Oh, yes.

Gina was curious about that. How did she come to believe she was at home in her room when she was in Victor's office the whole time? Yes, that question was safe to ponder.

Diane was still upset by the time she stepped inside her homeroom class. She had not said a word to Heather after they had entered the school, and Heather had not noticed. She wanted to believe that Heather was wrapped up in her own worries. Diane was worried about the same thing.

Diane lowered her eyes and avoided eye contact with everyone. She didn't notice the envelope sitting on her desk until she had fallen into her seat. Upon opening it, she recognized the absence slip and pondered it for a moment before she read the note that accompanied it:

Hello, Diane, I hope you are well. I would like to invite you to partake of a counseling session with me during your fourth period. Please present the enclosed absence slip to your teacher if you wish to take advantage of it. This is strictly voluntary on your part, but I thought I would meet with several selected students to see how they are adjusting to recent challenges in their lives. I look forward to seeing you. -- Victor Mann, School Counselor.

A cold tingle crept up her spine. Was this what Heather had felt when she had been told to report to the nurse's office knowing full well what Nyssa would do to her?

But the counselor was clean. No Aura, so the others claimed. She could even decline if she wished.

Diane put down the note and sighed. The offer appealed to her. Yet everything was so wrapped up in her relationship with the Harbingers that it would be impossible to have a candid conversation with him. The others would not trust it anyway.

Diane's fingers curled, crushing part of the note. Maybe she shouldn't even tell them. Not everything she did was their business. They said he was just a counselor.

Diane frowned and shook her head. No, I won't be stupid again, not like I was with Melissa. I'll tell them, but I'll decide for myself whether I want to go or not.

Vice Principal Seeger remained in the hallways until the transition from home room to first period had completed, his manner that of a guard overseeing the inmates of a prison. Others sensed it as well with reactions ranging from grudging respect to outright loathing.

In the end, the goal was met. The transition was orderly and within the bounds of acceptable rules of decorum.

Seeger had never witnessed any of what he had heard as rumor and gossip. He had not heard the blatant sexual remarks or seen the lewd activity. He had not observed open sexual advances or touching. He most certainly was not aware of any cases of outright sexual activity taking place on school grounds.

Yet he was one that always assumed the worst case scenario when it came to high school students.

Seeger waited until the halls were empty and all the classroom doors were closed before he reported to the Principal's office. He ignored Marcie, which was easier than comprehending what had become of her in the past month.

He let himself in. "You wanted to see me, Laura?"

Laura nodded once and gestured. Seeger closed the door behind him and took a seat opposite Laura. "I wish to ask a favor of you, Seymour," she said in a heavy voice, folding her hands before her on the desk. "Some things I am hearing about Terri Hollis have given me cause for concern."

Seeger raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh? And what is you have heard?"

Laura hesitated. "It is best I keep that to myself. Let us just say it involves potentially inappropriate behavior in her classroom."

Seeger frowned. He did not voice his own concerns, for he was unsure of Laura's role in running the school anymore. Since the semester began, he had grown disillusioned with Laura's apparent ignorance of what was going on in her own school. "Of course, I will support you in any way I can. Is her behavior directed at anyone in particular?"

"Yes. A junior named Heather Sovert."

Seeger nodded once. His thoughts dwelled on the event that had occurred in the parking lot a few weeks before. He broke up an altercation between Brad Weston and Richie Gardner over alleged harassment of Heather, a claim that not even Heather herself could substantiate.

Yet there was that odd, dark stain on the crotch of her jeans.

Laura laced her fingers together and propped them under her chin. "Seymour, I will not tolerate teachers taking liberties with the students at this school in any way, shape, or form. If Ms. Hollis is indeed doing something warranting disciplinary action, I want to know about it."

"Of course you do. I would as well. What it is you wish me to do?"

"Simply monitor her class on Miss Sovert's rotation. That would be third period."

"So you wish me to sit in on it?"

Laura shook her head. "That would put Terri on the defensive. I would rather know if there is anything to be concerned about in the first place."

Seeger's brows knitted together. "You wish me to spy on her?"

"You and I have a right to make whatever observations we wish in order to maintain this school," said Laura. "It is not spying. All teachers here should expect oversight on occasion. If you find nothing, I will consider the matter dropped."

Seeger considered. "Just what is the danger to Miss Sovert?"

"I would rather not say at the moment. It is best you go in with a clear head so you are not biased to see -- or not see -- anything in particular."

"Not see?"

Laura gave him a tight smile. "Suffice it to say that I wish an unbiased perspective from you."

Seeger nodded again. Now he recalled the day he had released Richie Gardner from further detention resulting from that altercation. Richie had all but claimed that a student had exercised mind control on other students when Seeger had pressed him for an explanation of recent shenanigans outside of school.

The notion was preposterous, even more so the claim that Richie and his friends had somehow put a stop to the threat. The fact that the worst of the rumors of improprieties among the students had vastly diminished soon after must have been a coincidence.

And yet both Melissa Handon and Ann Went were withdrawn from the school in the days following.

And yet there was that odd dark stain on the crotch of Heather Sovert's jeans.

"Doesn't she have Miss Sovert assisting in setting up for the Halloween party come Monday?" Seeger asked.

"Yes. If Ms. Hollis turns out to be doing nothing inappropriate, that may commence. I intend to be there as well."

Seeger could not shake the feeling that this was putting the fox in charge of the hen-house. He disliked what Terri had done, and more so Laura's tacit approval. Such discipline matters were supposed to be left to him, even as much as he hated it.

"Just observe her, that's all I ask," Laura said. "And tell me if you see anything at all unusual or inappropriate."

"I will. I do think it is time that we begin restoring a sense of decorum to this school that I feel has been lacking."

"As you have made abundantly clear in the past. Thank you, Seymour, that's all I needed you for."

Seeger nodded and stood. He headed out of the office without another word.

Seeing Heather's name show up in the school disciplinary record had been a surprise in itself. She had never been a spectacular student, but she had stayed within the bounds of the school rules. Yet it dovetailed with Brad's even more lurid claims that he had been forced to harass Heather at Melissa's bidding.

Preposterous. Richie might as well have spoken of magic wands and fairy dust, for they would have been just as plausible to Seeger's ears.

And yet ... that odd stain ... and a sort of shiver just before the fight had broken out ...

Feedback

Did you like this story? Hate it? Printed it and lined the birdcage with it?

Please take a moment to send me some comments about this story. Your comments may remain anonymous if you prefer, or you can include an email address in your comments if you wish a reply.

Since this is a multi-part story, you may wait until the last chapter to send feedback about the story as a whole if you wish.