"Even if Ned doesn't find any record of a burial for Stephanie, that doesn't mean there isn't a grave somewhere," said Jason. "Her parents could have buried her in some other town."

Cassie tried not to look disappointed for neglecting that possibility as she finished a bite of her lunch. "Still, he might find something that would suggest she's still alive. Or that the report you saw was wrong."

"Yeah, okay, so what if he finds she's worm-food right here in town, huh?" Richie demanded.

Cassie put down her fork, her stomach souring at his unfortunate word choice. "Ned thought we might visit the grave," she said, unable to meet his eyes.

"Uh-huh. He have any other bright ideas?"

Cassie sighed. "Richie, I know how upsetting you find this new ability of yours. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to."

"I'm not sure what it would tell you," Jason said. "It's hard to imagine a connection with Doctor Mann."

"I know, Jason, but we thought Ned was wrong about suspecting Mann in the first place, and he turned out to be right," Cassie said in a hollow voice.

"What, you want her to be there?" Richie grumbled.

"No, I don't!" Cassie cried. She shook her head and waved off Jason when he extended a hand towards her. She did not want the distraction that his touch was sure to bring. "I don't want to communicate with the dead any more than you do, Richie. I've already told Ned that we're not going to force you, period."

Richie frowned and looked away, returning his attention to his lunch.

"This could still be another of these false perceptions," Jason said.

"Then I don't know how we can deal with it," Cassie said. "It was frightening what I sensed when I was linked to Heather earlier. It was like her concept of reality was changing. Ms. Hollis' power -- Victor's power as well -- works on a different level."

"I know. I can see it over the link. It's almost like looking at an Aura. It changes what you perceive to be true and your mind tries to make sense of it. The human brain has an inherent need to see patterns in everything to maintain its cognitive state. It's why we can see faces or objects so easily in otherwise random patterns like clouds. Or why people become convinced they see divine images in what are really just arrangements of light and shadow."

Richie rolled his eyes and muttered something about "nerding out." He glanced behind Cassie suddenly and waved. "Yo, over here, Nose!"

Cassie gasped. "Please, Richie, don't call him--"

"Nah, it's okay, babe," Ned said, squeezing her shoulder as he sat next to her. "He's got special permission on account of bein' a Harbinger."

"So whatcha find out?" Richie said.

Cassie gave Ned a controlled neutral look, but her face fell when she saw his own apologetic expression. "I found it on the first try," Ned said in a low voice. "A mention 'bout her funeral. Few clicks later, I found the grave."

Cassie sighed and raised a trembling hand to her cheek. Richie frowned but said nothing.

"Where is it, Ned?" Jason asked.

"Whaddaya mean where?" Richie said. "There's only one fucking cemetery in town. Can't be hard to find it."

"Ah, that's the innerestin' thing 'bout it," Ned said. "She ain't in Mesa. She was buried in someplace called 'Fairview Grove Cemetery'"

"I never heard of it," Jason said.

"Neither have I," said Cassie.

"Yeah, same here," Ned said. "So I did some more dig ... um, looking. It's got an address that's on Old Fairview."

"Old Fairview?" Jason asked. "Hardly anyone lives there anymore. It's not even paved."

"Yeah, and there ain't no office listin' fer the place anymore, least not what I could find. Looks like it musta been abandoned."

"No, that doesn't make sense. The whole 'abandoned graveyard' thing happens only in Hollywood. Even if a funeral home goes out of business, the local government would take over the cemetery or put it in conservatorship until they found someone in the private sector to maintain it."

"Yeah, but this is Haven, dude. Ya can't apply good ol' fashioned logic ta this place. Look, all I know is that this place used ta be part of some church right at the edge of town. The church closed fer business in 1985 and I guess the cemetery went with it."

"W-well, that's it then," Cassie said in a shaky voice. "Stephanie Fowler really is dead. I'm really t-talking to ..."

Richie's eyebrows rose when he saw Cassie's eyes water and a tear trickle down her cheek.

Ned squeezed her hand and wrapped his free arm around her. "Hey, hey, babe, calm down, I ain't done yet. Don't go countin' yer spooks before they haunt."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that this stinks jus' like everything else this week. Jason, yer right. Graveyards don't jus' get abandoned. I find it mighty convenient that this one did jus' after Stephanie was buried there. Here's another thing: she supposedly died in a barn fire. What's the first thing that happens after something like that? Someone makes a big fuss 'bout abandoned barns. Or 'bout careless kids. Or 'bout fire codes. People demand action, or slap lawsuits around, or both. This time? Nada. Nein. The big zero. It's like someone went ta a whole lotta trouble ta make people ferget there ever was anyone named Stephanie Fowler."

"Well, fuck," Richie growled. "They did the same freaking thing to that judge in my parents' divorce case."

"That wasn't quite the same thing," Jason said. "But I have to admit, that sounds like too many odd things on top of one another."

"I wanna see this place," Ned said. "And today. I think we're gettin' too distracted and need ta figger out what we're really s'pposed ta be doing. I mean, shit, we only jus' figgered out that it could be this Gina chick that's the one in trouble come Halloween."

"Huh? Who?" Richie demanded.

"Gina Caligano," Cassie explained. "A girl in junior year. I only realized today that she's the only one that I never, ever encountered in my dreams, and Ned said she's been seeing the counselor."

"Yeah, every day," said Ned. "I saw her goin' inta his office as I was headin' ta the library. And I think that the tall, dark, and ugly stranger that Cassie's seein' in her dreams is Victor. Yeah, yeah, I know, sounds impossible, but we gotta check this out."

"Ned," Cassie said. "Remember what I told you."

"Well, yeah, I know, but--"

"Ned. I mean it!"

"Aw, for fuck's sake," Richie grumbled. "I'll do it, okay?"

"You don't have to, Richie," Cassie said.

"Yeah, I do. Why the fuck else am I part of the Harbingers?"

"I don't mean that!" Cassie cried. "Richie, this girl died in a fire. Her last moments may have been horribly painful, not just physically but emotionally."

Richie hesitated. He let out a slow sigh. "Yeah, well ... you wanna figure out if you're talking to the dead, don't you? I've put up with worse."

"I won't be able to go with you," Jason said. "I have to see Mrs. Radson and get right home if I don't want to get in trouble with my mother."

"We can handle it," Ned said.

"I hope I can get Harry to take us there," Cassie said.

"Mebbe get him ta park further south near the greenbelt and then hoof it over there? We can claim we jus' wanna take a walk by the creek."

"Does the greenbelt come close enough for that to make sense?"

"Stop in the library again before you head out and look on that new Google maps service," Jason said. "Look on the satellite view. That should tell you."

"Gotcha, old hoss," said Ned. He stood up. "Now, I gotta get me some grub before they start scrapin' the bottom of the barrel of mystery sauce."

Richie watched Ned go, then tipped back his can and slurped the remaining soda. He placed the empty can in front of him on the table and flattened it with a sudden strike of his fist that made Cassie gasp in surprise.

"Sorry," muttered Richie. "Anyway, it's been great shits and giggles but I gotta go."

"Go?" Cassie said. "There's still twenty minutes to go in the lunch period."

"Yeah, well, all this crap with Diane and then Heather made it so I don't know what the hell happened in half my classes this morning. I wanna at least go over the assignments."

Both Jason and Cassie stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third eye.

"What?" Richie demanded.

"You? Care enough about your classes that much?" Jason asked in an incredulous voice.

Richie frowned. "Okay, so maybe I just want to get away from all the grave talk for a bit."

"Or lie in wait to pester Melinda again," Jason muttered.

Cassie tried to look neutral. Richie was hesitant in his comeback, his mouth looking as though it tried to operate ahead of his brain.

Jason frowned and shook his head. "Forget I said that. Never mind."

"Hey, look, I don't want to take your girlfriend, okay? She's too whiny anyway."

"I said it's okay, Richie," Jason said, his voice strained.

"I won't make her do it. It's not like the House, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Richie looked confused for another moment, then decided leaving was better than saying anything further.

Cassie almost called him back. She glanced at Jason and poked at her food with a fork held by an unsteady hand.

"You said it yourself, Cassie," Jason said. "It will take some getting used to. And I'm hardly one to talk with the number of times I've done it with Heather. Even with her right there in the room."

"Jason--"

"I mean, I even did it with you. It wasn't for long, but--"

"Jason!"

"What?"

Cassie forced herself to take a deep breath, but it did little good. She looked at him in exasperation, paused to reconsider, then shook her head. "No, I'm not going to ignore it. I'm not going to be the freak of the group."

Jason was taken aback. "What are you talking about? No one thinks you're a freak."

Cassie refused to be sidetracked so she would not lose her nerve. She lowered her voice when she spoke again. "We have to ... M-maybe we should have done more yesterday, Jason. Or for longer. Or something."

Jason gave her a nonplussed look, but it gave way to understanding when he looked into her intense and troubled eyes. "Oh, you mean ... you've been having, uh, urges ..."

"Yes, I have," Cassie said, her voice turning husky despite her efforts to stop it. "I mean, it's not overpowering, not like it was with Heather yesterday. But I don't think it's going to go away until we ... um ..."

"Yeah, I get it," Jason said, shifting in his seat. He drew his seat forward to hide his crotch from her view.

"This is what I was afraid of, being compelled to do things by feelings that aren't even my own."

"Well, this is not quite like that. I mean, yes, you're being affected, but it's not the same as being controlled by someone."

"And I should know that and understand it, but I'm still having trouble with it. I think I've been in so many people's dreamscapes that I have way too much sense for how my own head works." She paused, glanced at him, and squirmed. She lowered her voice further. "At least tell me the idea of having sex with me is exciting you."

Jason was too stunned to answer at first.

Cassie uttered a low, lusty sigh and shifted in her seat. "I-I mean you seemed like you were surprised when I told you what was going on with me, so I guess nothing has been urging you to pursue me."

Jason found his voice, though it was uncertain. "No, not that I noticed."

"At least if you were interested, on your own, I wouldn't feel like I was taking advantage of you. I think I enjoyed the brief sex I had with you, and I'd like more, I just wasn't sure if you could ... um ..." Cassie paused as the warmth in her sex became a moist heat. "Maybe I better not talk about this anymore."

"Yes."

Cassie stared at him. "Huh?"

Jason shifted in his seat again. "Yes, I'm interested."

Cassie caught the movement, and her eyes flicked downward without forethought. She covered her face with her hands for a few seconds. "I don't believe I actually tried to look at your ..."

A faint smile curled Jason's lips. "It's okay, really."

"This is so unlike me, Jason."

"Ned told me you're afraid of losing yourself. I don't think any of us have. Maybe you're being too hard on yourself and putting too much weight on this one thing."

Cassie slowly returned the smile. "Thank you. I needed to hear that from you."

Seeger emerged from his office and prepared for his between-periods patrol, entering the halls a full ten minutes before the bell. At this point the halls should be empty. Even if a teacher were forced to end a class early, the students were expected to remain in the classroom or the study hall until the bell.

Seeger spotted a senior who had just finished P.E. and was dribbling a basketball in the halls. He berated the boy on the spot and sent him off with a warning.

Next were two juniors, a girl and a boy, that thought they could duck out of an assigned study period early for some kissing and petting in an unoccupied classroom. Seeger put a stop to that, giving the boy detention and the girl a warning. He had caught them with his hand on her breast, which had embarrassed the girl to the point of tears. Seeger thought that punishment enough for her.

He emerged from the classroom to a moving, metallic rattle. He witnessed Richard Gardner jogging down the hall away from him, holding a ruler against the lockers so that the end clattered along the handles.

Seeger scowled, but did nothing else. He remained still until Richie was out of sight.

Another two minutes until the bell, and the cafeteria began disgorging students. One barreled into the hall at a dead run, and Seeger almost had to trip him to get him to stop. Another girl and a boy began to share a kiss as they walked out, which stopped after one Seeger glare.

More students milled in the halls. He chastised one boy for excessive foul language, and a girl for excessive flirting. In the distance he spotted Heather and Diane.

Seeger frowned. From the lingering dampness of Heather's hair, it was obvious that she had just taken a shower outside of her normal P.E. period, which required permission from the faculty. Heather put her arms around Diane and pulled her into a kiss. It lasted no more than a few seconds, but their hands dropped to each other's hips and rear, caressing and fondling.

Seeger kept his distance and his frown until the two parted and headed towards the cafeteria.

The throng thinned. He glared at a few stragglers until they hustled to their classes or the lunchroom. With fewer distractions, his thoughts ventured among dangerous avenues. Despite his efforts, his previous encounter with Heather lingered, as did the memory of the odor.

A long time had passed since he had experienced it first hand, but some things a man never forgot.

Seeger wandered back to the administrative offices as the hallways became empty once more. Laura emerged from her office as he approached. "Seymour, there you are. I wanted to speak with you for a moment."

"Yes, what is it?" Seeger said, trying not to sound as tired or frustrated as he felt.

"You no longer need to worry about the issue concerning Heather Sovert and Terri Hollis."

Seeger's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"I had a frank talk with Terri yesterday and it helped clear up the matter."

"I still wish you had thought to invite me to that meeting."

"I did tell you I would handle it. Anyway, I felt it would be less intimidating if it were just me. Less confrontational that way."

Seeger folded his arms. "I seem to recall that it was you that wanted to tread the confrontational route, considering what you had me do."

"I reserve the right to change tactics when I believe it will achieve the goal faster. The point is, Seymour, that you no longer need to concern yourself with this matter. It was a misunderstanding."

"A ... misunderstanding?"

Laura smiled. "Sometimes it pays to get the other side of the story. Perhaps I should have taken that tack earlier. At any rate, it appears that Miss Sovert has had several ongoing behavioral problems. Any and all inappropriate conduct was instigated by Heather Sovert and not Terri Hollis."

Seeger frowned. He thought back to Heather and Diane. To Heather and Ned. To the odor. The stains.

Heather the instigator of another "episode" of moral breakdown at the school? Embracing such a simple solution would be easy. He also wanted to insist that Heather was the victim. Everything he had witnessed in the past week supported either case, leaving him caught in the middle.

"I hesitate to ask, Laura, but just what behavior was--"

Laura shook her head. "I'm sorry, Seymour, I need to keep that confidential considering the sensitive nature of the issue. However, it is being handled, and it should trouble you no more."

Seeger's face became stone. "How?"

"Hmm? How what?"

"How is it being handled?"

"The long term details I prefer not to discuss at the moment. In the short term, she will be given some immediate punishment. She has detention tomorrow."

"I was not informed of this."

"She will have detention with both Terri and myself."

Seeger scowled. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is not intended to be a slight to you, Seymour, but she does not need your kind of detention. This is not so much a punishment as it is a way of helping her come to terms with what she has done."

"About which you conveniently cannot inform me."

Laura paused. "And just what are you trying not to say to me?"

Seeger issued a windy sigh. "Forgive me for being wary, but it does strike me as odd that we have had this stupendous turnaround in little more than a day."

Laura's voice became cool. "Once more, Seymour: what are you trying not to say?"

Seeger was not sure himself. He did not want to believe that anything more nefarious would happen than disciplining a recalcitrant student. He was a witness himself to actions that supported the argument.

Yet was this not something better handled by counseling? Should the school even involve itself? He did not think anyone at the school even remotely qualified to handle this, including the mysterious Doctor Mann.

He realized he could not trust his own opinions about Heather or Terri, but he also found himself trusting Laura Bendon even less.

Seeger shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Laura nodded. "Which reminds me, I have some other good news for you. I've spoken with a friend I know on the school board. He believes he can see his way clear to granting you an early retirement in return for your wonderful service to Haven High over the years."

"How soon?"

She smiled. "Any time at all."

Seeger stared. "What?"

"Just what I said. If you want tomorrow to be your last day, so be it. I mentioned that your help was critical in solving this mess with Heather Sovert. That helped give them the little push they needed to ensuring you'll get full retirement benefits."

Seeger wiped his face with his hand. Retirement had been his Holy Grail for the past year. He wanted nothing more than to remove himself from the stress and futility of guiding teenagers that desired to be anywhere but in school. He wanted to reconnect with his wife and catch up on all the reading he used to do.

And most of all, he wanted to move as far from Haven as possible.

"Shall I inform them, then?" Laura asked.

"No," Seeger heard himself say. "I wish to think about it."

Laura hesitated, then nodded once. "Very well. But please don't spend your last days worrying about this Sovert affair. It is case closed where your involvement is concerned."

Last days. Seeger would have relished hearing those words just a few weeks ago. Now he resented it, as if he were being pushed out the door just so he could not bear witness. But bear witness to what? His imagination was no use; it had failed to serve him a long time ago.

He looked at Laura, the woman who was once the only voice of sanity at Haven High, and now a stranger to him. It sparked the first concrete, clear thought of the day: humor her.

"Of course, Laura," Seeger said. "Apologies for casting doubt on your approach. It is my job to care for the students' well-being, even if it means playing devil's advocate."

Laura smiled. "Of course, Seymour, I understand perfectly. I will continue to welcome your insight for your remaining time with the school."

Somehow, Seeger sincerely doubted that.

Terri let herself into Victor's office. She smiled as she strolled to his desk, swinging her hips like a prostitute approaching a potential client. She placed one hand on his desk and tilted her hips. "You wanted to see me?"

Victor pointed to the sofa. Terri's smile faded. She crossed the room and sat down without a word.

"I'm not going to tell you this twice," said Victor. "You will cease to hinder my plans."

Terri's lips parted and her eyes betrayed anxiety. She recovered and held her gaze level with his. "I am sure I don't know what you are talking about."

"Playing dumb with me was always a petty game of yours, Terri. Now it is simply dangerous. I suggest you stop it for your own sake."

Terri's mind spun its wheels for a few moments until she could quell her panic. "Wait, is this about the class earlier, the one Gina was in?"

"I also do not care for facts to be expressed as questions."

"All right, Victor, I apologize for what happened. But I did not think that calling attention to it once would be such a setback for you."

"The fact that you mention it at all means you entertained the possibility."

"Victor, please! I am not trying to thwart you or your plans! I would never do that."

Victor stared at her, stone-faced.

Terri sighed. "If there is anything going on here, it's simply my frustrations with Heather."

"That is not my concern. I told you that you could work on her so long as it did not interfere with me."

"And it won't. I will do nothing to work against your plans for Gina. I will ignore her completely if that suits you."

Victor observed her. Her eyes were shimmering, and one twitched very faintly. That told him that she was fearing a question from him for which she could provide no satisfactory answer.

She is working to her own ends with Laura Bendon, the Darkness sneered. She has no intention of delivering a second slave to you.

From the start, Victor had doubts that Terri could have produced a proper slave in such a short period of time. He had suspected that Terri would follow her own agenda, but had hoped he was wrong. He was convinced that Terri Hollis would soon reach the end of her usefulness.

But not yet. She could still provide a drain on the Harbingers' resources despite the fact that they had seen through the ruse.

"Very well," Victor said. He could sense as well as hear her relief. "But there will be serious consequences if I need to speak with you on this matter again, for I will not speak, I will simply act."

"Yes, Victor, of course, I understand," Terri said, rising to her feet.

"Now get out."

Terri fled.

Cassie was able to ferry Jason to Mrs. Radson's house after school and arrange for a taxi in a half hour to take him home. Harry had refused to let Richie in the limo. "I am sorry, Miss Kendall, but he looks like a hoodlum to me," was his terse response to her objections. Richie would have to take the bus home and bike over to the cemetery.

Cassie followed Ned's plan; she convinced Harry to take them to the southern leg of Old Fairview under the pretense that she and Ned wanted to take a walk by the creek. From there they could walk the rest of the way northward to the cemetery.

As she and Ned headed towards their rendezvous with Richie, Jason rushed the presentation of his case to Mrs. Radson. He explained in unflinching detail what the Harbingers had done the day before and what it had enabled them to do. He told her about Heather's vision of Mara. He mentioned the Harbingers' continued sexual urges. To emphasize their need, he explained what happened with Diane, Victor, and the Book.

"Mrs. Radson, I am really sorry I have to ask you this," Jason said, struggling to keep his voice steady against her shocked expression. "I wouldn't if there were any other way, and I won't argue with you if you say 'no.' But after Halloween we won't have a private place to have sex. There's nowhere we can go. Is there anything you can do for us?"

Debby remained silent, and Jason feared that she was too stunned to react. He tried not to look impatient, but it had taken him longer to explain everything than he had hoped.

Debby rose from her seat at the little table in the pantry. Her insistence on casting the circle before they spoke had chewed up time that Jason did not have. "What you've told me is incredible," she finally said in a hollow voice.

"It's all true, Mrs. Radson," Jason said. "I wouldn't make this up or exaggerate it."

"No, I didn't mean that. This is just ... " She sighed. "This is beyond anything even Elizabeth ever did. She theorized that something like this might be possible with sexual energy, and she even arranged some ... well, some orgies, to put it bluntly ... as an experiment, but she never broke through."

"I think we had some help."

Debby nodded. "Yes, Mara's Presence."

"Mrs. Radson, I wanted to ask you about that. What is it? Richie heard it mentioned in one of his visions also."

"You already understand what I know about it, Jason. When a person passes from this world near a line, his or her spirit can imbue it with an impression of the person's life energy. In rare cases it can be manipulated or concentrated, as I now suspect Elizabeth did for Mara." Debby shook her head, a haunted look in her eyes. "Goddess, I suspected Elizabeth may have done something like that, but I had no proof, except for swathes of missing journal entries."

"She expunged it?" Jason asked.

"Yes, and I can see why. Manipulating the lingering energy patterns of the dead is a horrible practice, as we can never know if it really is just leftover nonliving energy or someone's real soul. It's necromancy, a place where no self-respecting modern-day Witch wants to tread." Debby sighed. "Elizabeth must have been frightened of what she had managed to do, to concentrate Mara's spiritual energy so powerfully that--"

Jason looked at his watch. "Mrs. Radson, I'm sorry, I don't have time. We need to get back to the original topic."

"I cannot give you an answer now," Debby said. "I need time to think about this. Even if I agree, I'll need time to make some arrangements. You're asking a lot of me."

"I know, and I really feel bad about this."

"From anyone else, Jason, and I would suspect it was just an excuse to find a place to have casual sex."

"This is messing with all of us. Some of us have relationships with each other, and this is putting a strain on them."

"I need some time to convince myself that this is somehow the will of the Goddess. I don't expect you to understand, but--"

Jason looked up when he heard the squeal of brakes and an idling car engine. "My ride is here," Jason said, standing up. "I have to go."

"Yes, of course." Debby followed Jason towards the front door. Her eyes grew distant and troubled. "Jason, I feel I have to ask this, but are you sure that the Book is safe now?"

"As safe as we can make it, Mrs. Radson," said Jason.

"And you're sure you shook off what Victor tried to do through Diane?"

Jason opened the front door and turned around on the threshold. "I can still feel it a little in the back of my mind, but I can ignore it. Oh, there was one more thing I wanted to ask. Cassie is seeing someone both in person and in her dreams that we think is a girl that died in 1984. Could that be caused by Presence?"

"Well, the visual manifestation, yes, of course. But her dreams as well?"

"She says it happens every Halloween around this time."

Debby looked thoughtful. "The Dream Gift is supposed to require a living mind, but perhaps if a Presence were powerful enough ... but that would require supernatural ability exceeding even what Elizabeth had achieved with Mara. I don't want to think of the implications of that!"

"Neither do I, Mrs. Radson. I'll talk to you again as soon as I can."

Debby nodded, her face creasing in a small frown as Jason jogged towards the waiting taxi at the curb.

She folded her arms under her breasts as she retreated into the house. The same faint pressure against her mind had manifested again -- just as it had when he first mentioned Diane -- like something pressed against a protective membrane but unable to break through.

She listened to the taxi pull away from the curb before returning to the pantry and the comfort of her protective circle.

"There it is!" Ned called out between breaths.

Both Cassie and Ned were winded as they approached the fallen fence of the cemetery. They had underestimated the length of the trek, and after crossing the road, Cassie leaned against the side of a tree to catch her breath, steam clouding the air before her lips.

Ned took a few steps into the graveyard, picking his way around fallen, rusting sections of wrought iron fence as feathery snow fell from a gray-white sky. "Yeah, this place has really gone ta pot. What a mess."

"It's sad, really," Cassie said as she stepped beside him. Her gaze slid across the cracked, canted, and fallen headstones. "These are someone's loved ones. It's almost a ... a desecration."

Ned strolled to the nearest grave and crouched near the headstone. He wiped off the fresh snow and peered at the eroded lettering. "Wonder how many loved ones ain't buried themselves somewhere. This one sez 1926."

Cassie approached another one and lifted a fallen branch from it. "Goodness! 1912."

"Can't read this one, the headstone's broken too badly," Ned said from a third grave. He waded through dead grasses and kicked away several small rocks. With his foot, he wiped snow from a headstone that had fallen on its back. "1943."

Cassie stepped away from the graves and onto the narrow, winding path, her boots crunching on the fresh snow. She looked towards the back of the cemetery, and spotted a pristine grave at the end of the path.

Her breath came out as a tremulous sigh, and she pulled her coat around herself. She started towards the grave. Ned noticed her and cut across the cemetery to join her. "Ya find something?"

Cassie stopped about ten feet from the grave and stared. She couldn't prompt herself to move any further, nor could she find the words to convey her difficulty to Ned.

Ned understood the unspoken message and advanced. The headstone faced away from them. He stepped around the other side and crouched, wiping away snow with his sleeve. He let out a long sigh.

"That's it, isn't it?" Cassie asked in a shaky voice.

"A-yep. Stephanie Fowler, 1968 to 1984."

Cassie was spared having to react when she heard the rattle of Richie's bicycle as he pedaled up to the edge of the cemetery. He frowned as he dismounted and set his bike against a tree. "Shit, what the fuck hit this place?"

"A whole lotta apathy is my guess," Ned said. "Welcome ta the dead-man's party."

"We f-found the grave," Cassie said, struggling to keep her voice steady. She kept her hands in her pockets to stop them from shaking.

"Yeah?" Richie said. He crept forward, eyes darting towards the other graves. "Hardly looks like a freaking cemetery anymore."

"We better get this done," Cassie said in a hollow voice. "I don't want to be gone too long and make Harry nervous."

Ned stepped over to Cassie and placed an arm around her waist. She resisted at first, then let herself be drawn to what little comfort she could find. Richie stepped past them and stopped just short of the grave. "So what's this chick's name again?"

"Stephanie Fowler," Cassie said.

Richie stared at the grave, his breath quickening, his teeth clenching. He quelled the urge to run the other way.

"Everythin' okay, Richie?" Ned asked.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Richie, if you really don't want to--" Cassie began.

Richie turned and frowned at her. "Look, don't start that shit again, all right? Fuck it. Let's do this and get the hell out of here."

He marched the remaining distance and grasped the top edge of the headstone.

Reality shifted.

Richie squinted. The sky was bright and clear, sun glaring off patches of snow. A neat, low fence enclosed the cemetery, making it seem far smaller than he had imagined it. Headstones had risen as if from the dead, standing in careful rows. The ground was a well-trimmed carpet of brown, dormant grass, save for where it had been trampled by the mourners, their coats bundled around their black suits and dresses against the sharp chill.

People clutched each other, sighing or sobbing in grief, or stood in solitary, morose contemplation of the patch of ground near their feet. Richie heard a voice right at his ear and stumbled away from the preacher, only to pass like mist through a balding man.

... should have gone for cremation, there was hardly anything left recognizable that ...

Richie side-stepped out of the person's "body" with a shudder when an image rose like a specter in his head of a charred corpse lying on a medical examiner's table.

He looked around again and spotted it. A chill far colder than the late fall morning iced his spine as his eyes lingered on the casket, where it sat on the ground between its pallbearers.

Richie let out a slow, rattling breath. The chill remained with him, as if a tendril of death had exuded from the body and wrapped about his mind. He felt the need to defy it and turned his back to it for now. He observed the others once more.

A forlorn, spindly woman sobbed into a man's broad chest, as the words of the preacher praised the girl that was and described how wonderful and lively she was in life. "Yeah, just what they wanna hear, Rev," Richie muttered. "Just how alive she ain't."

He cursed himself for his own morbid curiosity and stepped towards her, passing a hand through her arm.

... oh God oh God how could she die what did I do wrong why did she disappear who was seeing her who was he where did he go ...

Richie staggered back, covering his face with his hands and gasping as if drowning in her tears. He clenched his hands into fists, resisting the urge to punch himself.

He lowered his hands and lifted his gaze. Everyone else was in a similar state of grief. He saw no point in this exercise. He would go insane replaying their sadness in his head. Yet it was better than what faced him in the casket, which once more seemed to call out to him in icy cadence.

He approached it, heart hammering. He glanced to the side, as if expecting -- or hoping -- that someone would see him and stop him. He was only a few feet from the casket when his gaze fell on a diminutive man standing by himself.

Richie tilted his head and frowned. The man was not grieving like the rest, nor did he wear the same stoic look of the pallbearers or the funeral home attendants. He twisted the ring of one hand or the watch band of his other. He licked his lips as if they were going dry, and occasionally let off a shaky sigh. He shuffled his feet. He cast furtive looks at the casket.

Richie stepped up to him, and then through him.

... pull this off. God, when will this be over? Please, just bury the body and get this over with. How could this have happened? He's NEVER failed! He always takes her properly. Please, oh please, hurry up! The coroner still suspects something, I'm sure of it! Just ...

Richie pulled himself back as even more terrible images of a partially autopsied corpse loomed in his head, a familiar man standing over it ...

He faced the casket. A shiver settled in his bones. His heart pounded in his ears, and a headache throbbed in his temples. He clung to the pain as his connection to the living as he crouched by the casket and plunged his hand through it and into the body within.

Richie's breath was ripped from his chest in a single forced gasp as frigid cold enveloped him. His mind blazed like an inferno, flames rising with the revolting odor of burning flesh that twisted within the desolate smell of decay and death. A single wailing cry of pain and anguish tore through his head and cut through his rationality like a scythe.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!

Richie wanted to pull his hand away and clutch at his head as the death scream rent his mind, but it felt frozen to the body. The vortex rose and spun around him, the blackness marred with nightmares of flames rising from a dying body.

I WANT MY MOM!

Richie clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. Muscles stood out on his arms as if holding against a fall into the abyss. He could sense something else inside him, clawing and scratching from a deepening pit, desperate not to fall, knowing it was futile, but compelled to try anyway.

I'm sorry ... oh God, I'm sorry ... I shouldn't have run away ... Mom! Please!

The vortex shuddered. He pulled his hand back. As it emerged from the casket, his blood turned to ice and his mouth opened in a silent scream as a burned and deformed hand clutched his own.

Don't leave me! DON'T LEAVE ME!

"GET OFF!" Richie shrieked. "LET GO!!"

Why did he tell me it was safe to sleep in there? Why did he trick me? WHY?

Richie flew backwards as the contact was abruptly broken. The casket whirled away from him into the blackness until his feet came out from under him. He landed with a thump on his backside.

"Richie!" Cassie cried, rushing to his side.

"Hey, dude, you okay?!" Ned said, crouching beside him.

Richie's horrified eyes stared straight ahead until he realized he was seeing the grave again as it was in the present. He let out a rattling breath and draped his hands over his eyes, then curled them into fists and punched the ground next to him. "I hate this I hate this I HATE THIS!"

"Oh, goodness, Richie, I'm sorry," Cassie said, her eyes tearing.

"Look, shut up, okay?" Richie snapped, forcing himself to his feet. He took a deep breath and let it go, frowning at the grave until his remaining fear abated. "It's just a stupid vision, that's all!" he shouted.

"Must've been one helluva vision," Ned said.

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"You were gettin' real shaky and all that before ya jus' sorta tumbled backwards."

Richie turned to him. "Nothing else? You didn't see anything pulling at me?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Whatever was goin' on musta been in yer mind."

Richie nodded and took another deep breath. "Yeah, that's right."

"I'm sorry if it was too emotional for you," Cassie said in a contrite voice.

"Forget it," Richie grunted. "Just comes with it, that's all. But I really hope this is the last fucking dead person anyone wants me to look at, okay?"

"Yes, of course."

"Sorry ta be lackin' tact here," Ned said. "But I wanna know what ya found out."

Richie sighed. "Yeah, okay, lemme just get my shit together. I feel like someone just kicked me in the head a few dozen times."

He told them what he had heard from the nervous man and what he had sensed from the body. He left out the details about the horrific visions of death and fire, or his hand being grabbed.

Cassie's eyes slowly widened, her mouth falling open as she turned her head and stared at the grave.

"I don't get it," Ned said.

"Now you sound like the nerd wonder," Richie grumbled. "What the fuck don't you get?"

"Why would Stephanie be sayin' things like that?"

"She didn't say shit, it's a fucking dead body!"

"Ya know what I mean! Stephanie wasn't some runaway, she lived right here in this town. And what's with this not recognizin' her own parents? I mean, I'm assumin' here that her spirit or whatever would know--"

"I can only contact the living!" Cassie suddenly exulted.

Ned and Richie fell silent as they saw the look of triumph on Cassie's face.

"Don't you two get it?!" Cassie cried. "I was right all along, that my Gift works only on living people! That's not her body. The headstone says it's her, but someone else is buried there. Stephanie Fowler is alive!"

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.