Richie looked at the grave. "So who the fuck is buried here, then?"

"I only know who isn't," Cassie said. "And it's not Stephanie."

"Yeah, I think yer right," said Ned. "Damn, this jus' got a whole lot more complicated."

"Richie, didn't you say one of the people at the funeral was talking about fooling the coroner?" Cassie asked.

"He was wondering how someone else convinced the coroner of something," Richie said. "Don't know what, but he was looking real nervous and suspicious."

"I know what he was talkin' about," Ned said. "The ol' switcheroo. Some other girl died, and everybody was convinced it was Stephanie."

Cassie gasped. "And what Richie said about the girl thinking it was safe in the barn because someone told her ... oh goodness, that's horrible! Someone killed this poor girl just so they could claim Stephanie was dead!"

"Hey, Richie, any idea who this dude was talkin' about when he mentioned someone convincin' the coroner?" Ned asked.

"No clue."

"Not even what the guy looked like?"

Richie paused and frowned. The images from the past were indelible for some time after the vision concluded, but he had no desire to conjure up this particular one. His stomach churned as he dragged the memory of the autopsy into his mind's eye once more.

"Someone was in the room with him looking at the dead body," Richie said. "He looked kinda like that tool of a counselor at school."

"Victor Mann? Fuck."

"Oh, but it must be only a passing resemblance," Cassie said.

Ned paused, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

"Now, come on, I know you were right about Doctor Mann in the first place, but this was over twenty years ago!"

"Then he's lyin' 'bout his age and he ages well. Or he was a child prodigy at mind controlling and madman schemin'."

"Nah, this guy in the dude's memory was an adult," Richie said.

"Then he's some sorta immortal incubus from hell."

Cassie sighed. "Oh, really, Ned!"

"Yeah, okay, that last one's far-fetched, but too much fits if he's the one behind it. Babe, you're almost sure yerself that it's Victor that's in that girl's head."

"But now I know she's alive, so I'm connecting to her in the present. He's involved with her now, not then."

"Yeah, but ya also said she's a teenager in yer dream. If yer connectin' with her today, why ain't she a middle-aged woman? Look, I knew this retarded dude back in my old neighborhood. Guy was forty but he acted like a ten year old. What if Victor did something ta her twenty-one years ago, something that kept her a teenager in her head?"

Cassie looked stricken. "And she was begging me to help stop it from happening again."

"An' ya said this Stephanie was dressin' more like a whore every day and talkin' 'bout doing the nasty with lotsa guys?"

"Yes, that's exactly what she said. Why?"

"Cuz today I saw Gina wearin' this skirt that was so short ... well, let's jus' say I saw London and I saw France."

"Oh, goodness, Ned!" Cassie cried. "If he really is doing the same thing to Gina that happened to Stephanie, then some other poor girl might die too!"

"Now I'm the one that don't get it," Richie said. "Why the fuck do all this shit in the first place? If he wanted this girl to disappear, why not just off her directly?"

"Unless he wanted Stephanie for something and didn't want anyone else pussyfootin' around tryin' ta find her," Ned said. "No point in lookin' fer someone that's dead. A runaway girl that ya can kill in a way that makes it hard ta identify the body; someone like good ol' Vic that can mess with what people think they're seein'; seems ta all fit ta me."

"We have to stop this!" Cassie said. "If we let this happen, the lives of two girls are going to be destroyed!"

Ned snorted. "A 'small' danger ta Heather this Halloween. Yeah, Mara's got a gift fer understatement."

"Fuck, you don't think that asshole's gonna--" Richie began.

"Kill Heather to cover Gina's comin' disappearance?" Ned said to Cassie's shocked gasp. "I still think Terrible Terri Hollis is followin' her own agenda, ta be honest, but yeah, we gotta consider that."

Cassie paled. "I don't want to think about how many other times this must have happened."

"We don't know yet if this kinda thing happens every year."

"No, wait, I think it does," Richie said. "Remember what I heard with Heather's Mom at the church? If they were talking about the asshole counselor, then it sounded to me like this was something he did every year."

"Stephanie gets in my dreams around Halloween every year," Cassie said. "Ever since I had the Dream Gift. It's only this year where it progressed to the point where I understood what was going on."

"So now we gotta help Gina and keep the Book from this dude," Ned said. "Swell."

"Yeah, and just what the fuck do we do about Gina?" Richie demanded.

Cassie sighed. "I'm the only one that can do anything," she said in a quavering voice. "I'm going to have to try to get into her head tonight."

"You gotta be careful, babe," Ned said. "If her mind is anything like Stephanie's, he's got some weird shadow of himself tip-toeing through her mental tulips. Ya didn't have a lot of time to do anything in Stephanie's head."

"But she's been under Mann's control for goodness knows how many years. He's only just started on Gina. I mean, yes, I'm scared, Ned, but I'm hoping I can draw on the link between us like I had before."

"Yer the expert compared ta the rest of us. I jus' wish we had figgered this out days ago." He glanced towards the grave once more. "I think we better get outta here 'fore yer driver starts gettin' worried."

Cassie nodded. She stepped up to Richie. "Thank you for what you did for us, I know it must have been terrible."

Richie shrugged. "Whatever. I just ... huh?"

Cassie suddenly threw her arms around Richie and hugged him. By the time Richie had recovered from his initial shock, she had already withdrawn. "You really are a good friend, Richie," she said before turning away and heading out of the cemetery, Ned falling in step alongside her.

Richie stared until the two of them had crossed the road. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"I'm sorry, Gina, but no."

Gina stared at her mother, watching as she bustled about the kitchen making dinner. Denial was new to her, and now she was unsure of how to react. She wasn't upset. It didn't seem important enough for that. Yet ...

"Is there something wrong, Mom?" Gina asked.

"There's really no reason for you to go out again today," said Roberta, her voice kind but firm. "It won't be long before Victor is home, and you need to be ready for him."

"I know. I just thought there would be enough time."

"To do what, dear?"

"To walk in the snow," Gina said. "I like walking in the newly-fallen snow along the little road."

Her mother shook her head. "I don't see the point, Gina, not with as chilly as it is out there."

Gina thought she would be more upset. Her afternoon walk was something that was never questioned. Yet it could not be that important to her.

Roberta finished seasoning the gravy that steamed on the stove top and turned to her daughter. "More importantly, Victor told me specifically that it would be better for you to stay in."

Now it made more sense to Gina. Of course she should stay in. Victor knew what was best. There was no point now in even thinking about seeing ...

(Stephanie)

... the snow. It would have to wait until another time.

Roberta smiled. "Now, don't dawdle, dear, and get yourself ready. Victor should be home within the half hour."

"Yes, Mom, of course," said Gina. She headed up the stairs.

Her mother was right. Victor had told her the night before that she needed to focus her attention on more important matters. Victor would be home soon and she needed to properly present herself.

She stepped into her bedroom and began stripping off her clothes. By the time she was down to her bra and panties, she felt a pleasant warmth in her pussy. She slipped off her bra, then cupped her breasts in her hands and fondled them, stroking the nipples until they became hard with excitement and her pussy grew moist.

"Presentation is most important when you are naked," Victor had said over breakfast that morning. "Nudity is easy. You need to go beyond that and completely display your sexuality."

Gina let out a husky sigh as she dropped her hands from her breasts. She glanced towards the window just as she grabbed the waistband of her panties.

... iii ...

Frost crusted the edges of the window, crystalline patterns that formed a rough oval. Though this portal, the snow lay upon the branches of the trees in a pristine coat of white. The snow on the road would be just as white and pretty, so perfect that she would feel compelled to walk at the edge of the woods so as not to spoil its beauty.

She turned her eyes away and slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side next to her bed. She probed her folds with a single finger, letting the fingertip swirl about her clit. She enjoyed the teasing sensation of pleasure, just enough to make her wetter but not enough to drive her towards orgasm.

Gina withdrew her hand and shivered. She need not have done it. The thought of Victor watching her all evening was enough. That would surely keep her wet.

... iiiiii ...

She again looked towards the window. She thought she had heard a sound like a sigh. In some of her walks, the wind would blow through the trees along the road from just the right direction to make a similar sound. Yet the branches were still.

Gina was at the window but did not remember crossing the room. The cold radiated from the glass, raising goosebumps along her arms.

... iiiii ... aaaa ...

She peered at the tree beyond the window. It did not sway. Snow floated straight down, feathery things like wisps of cotton. She raised her hand as if intending to reach through the glass and touch it. Her heart pounded. She had no idea why.

... giiiiinnnnnaaaaa ....

Gina opened her mouth and drew in a ragged breath. Her mind still insisted it was the wind. The house was just sheltering the trees from it.

She had to prove it. She could see a bit of the road from her window. She could see some of the aspens, whose flexible trunks swayed in even the tiniest breeze. They had to be moving if it were the wind.

She drew closer to the window and let out her breath. It fogged the glass, and she suddenly shook with a brief but intense cold. By the time she had wrapped her arms around herself, it had passed.

... giiinnnaa ....

"It's the wind," Gina said, and surprised herself at the shakiness of her voice. "That's all it--"

She stopped, mouth frozen in mid-syllable. Standing naked in the snow, framed in Gina's view, was Stephanie.

Gina uttered a tiny gasp. Stephanie would freeze if she stayed out there too long! Gina wondered if she should talk to her mother about letting Stephanie come inside.

... Gina ...

The wave of ice passed over her again. She tried to draw back but her body would not respond, as if it had been frozen in place.

... I've fallen, Gina ...

"F-Fallen?" Gina croaked. "What ... I don't ..."

... you don't have to ...

Gina's throat locked up. Her eyes widened.

... they found her ...

Gina wanted to know what that meant. She wanted to demand how she could be hearing Stephanie speak through the window and the trees. But above all else, she wanted to know why she was suddenly so very scared.

... let them help you ...

Stephanie disappeared. In her place, another figure shimmered, little more than a wisp. Breathing hard, her heart hammering, Gina leaned forward, peering until its charred edges stood in relief against the pristine snow as a horrid caricature of a teenage girl.

Gina staggered back from the window as the image seared her mind, then found form in a scream that was about to explode from her mouth when the figure vanished.

A ragged groan instead passed her lips, and she grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady herself. She lifted her gaze to the window again. She stumbled towards it and stared at the road once more.

The road was deserted.

Gina swallowed. She was confused. She had felt a fear more powerful than any other emotion she had ever experienced, and she had no idea why. None of the images she had seen seemed frightening to her now. Disturbing, especially the last, but not scary.

"Gina?"

Gina whirled around.

Victor smiled. "Something interesting out the window?"

"What? Oh ... no, nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Gina turned her head and looked. "Yes. There's no one out there."

"Why were you looking, then?" Victor asked, his voice gentle.

"Mom said I couldn't take a walk, but I wanted to see the snow on the road."

Victor nodded. "Very well, Gina. Dinner is almost ready. Head downstairs and help your mother."

"Yes, Victor."

Victor stepped to one side and let her pass. After Gina was gone, he crossed the room and looked out the window. He saw nothing.

Yet something had happened. His avatar had felt her fear and was just as in the dark about the cause. It had seen nothing more than an empty road. The fear had come and gone with such rapidity that he had suspected an attack, yet no one, not even the Harbingers, could do such a thing.

He pulled out his cell phone, speed-dialed, and waited. "Charles? This is Victor. Drop whatever you are doing and check on Lydia."

"Why, is there something--?"

"Do not waste time questioning me, do it. And don't send a servant, check yourself."

"Very well." Sounds of walking and opening doors drifted over the connection, then faint moaning and panting. "Damn," Charles said in a low voice. "It looks like she's just coming out of another episode. How did you know?"

"How, indeed," Victor said, his jaw tight. "But now I know the source of Gina's resistance."

"But she has never interfered with you before."

"This year is a high point in a supernatural cycle. The veil will be exceptionally thin this Halloween."

He told a partial truth. Regular cycles indeed happened, but he suspected that the activities of the Darkness had also provided a greater conduit for supernatural power.

"So what do we do?" asked Charles.

"For the moment, we keep an eye on the situation. Lydia's powers outside her own mind are weak. She can obviously manifest physical avatars along the energy lines but not mental ones. If it becomes a problem, we can keep Lydia partially sedated."

Charles sighed. "All right. Just let me know. I'll have my servants keep a constant watch on her around the clock."

"That would be best. I will contact you again soon."

Victor snapped his phone shut. This should NOT be happening, growled the Darkness.

Presence is not just for the dead, Victor thought, and then in the privacy of his own mind added, you short-sighted fool.

The snow had eased until little more than occasional lazy flakes fluttered down from the thin, cold clouds. Heather and Diane's shoes crunched more on rock salt than snow as they strolled along the sidewalk at the mall.

"I'm glad your Mom knows about us now," Heather said. Steam rose from her hot chocolate as she raised it to her mouth to take a sip.

"I think she told my father about it last night," said Diane. "He was kind of awkwardly quiet towards me this morning."

"I hope he's not going to give you trouble."

Diane shook her head. "No, it'll be okay. Before I left to meet you here, my Dad called me from work and we talked for a bit. It's cool."

Heather smiled and nodded.

"My Mom does want you to come over for dinner some night."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. I think she wants to show me she's accepted it. It's what she would have done if I was going steady with a guy. Personally, I want to wait until this is over with Victor."

"Yeah, we probably won't have time before that."

"I don't mean that. I mean I don't know my own head right now."

"You still think he did something to you last time you saw him?"

Diane frowned. "Heather, I know he did something to me. I just don't know what. I don't want to take the chance that he's going to use me to do something to you or my family."

For the next few minutes, they strolled along the boardwalk that overlooked the Haven Canal in silence before Heather took Diane's arm and led her towards the railing. "Diane, I'm going to talk to Jason. We have to find some way to fix this."

Diane shook her head before Heather finished her statement. "The whole group is already busy enough as it is."

"But you're part of the group and we have to protect you just like everyone else."

"I think he's got something in my head that can make me go under in an instant. It's the only explanation for why my sessions with him seem to be so short but it's almost an hour later when I get out of his office."

Heather sighed. "If Jason hadn't insisted on using you to--"

"No, stop blaming him. I've already made my peace with him. Sort of."

"But--"

"No 'buts,' Heather. I'm out of this for the duration. No, please, don't argue with me. If he still has a hold on me, he can make me tell him everything that goes on with the Harbingers. I have to stay away from them."

"You can't, Diane. We need everyone to maintain this link between us."

Diane paused.

(a sex slave to the Harbingers)

"We need everyone," Heather repeated.

(a sex slave)

Diane let out a slow sigh. "Well, all right. I can be there for that."

Heather smiled and slid closer to Diane. "That's better."

Diane's eyes rose to Heather's. Her body felt warm despite the cold air.

"I'd miss you, at least," Heather said, laying a gloved hand along Diane's hip.

"I thought you were interested in Ned right now," Diane said in a low voice.

"I am. But that doesn't mean I've stopped thinking about you." Heather smiled. "Or wanting you."

(a sex slave to the Harbingers)

Diane's fingers curled around the railing as her pussy tingled. "Heather, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you r-remember when you used to make me your ... your slave sometimes? When we could use the spells from the Book?"

Heather hesitated. She licked her lips, her eyes uncertain. "Yes, I do. But I figured we shouldn't use them anymore."

Diane didn't respond. She kept looking into Heather's eyes, her lips parted.

Heather tilted her head. "Why do you ask?"

(a sex slave)

"Sometimes ... I still want to do that," Diane said in a husky voice.

"But we can't use the spells anymore."

(and should be treated as such)

Diane shook her head. "You don't have to."

Heather looked confused. "I don't?"

(treated as such)

Diane remained silent.

"Are you all right, Diane?" Heather asked.

Diane nodded. She squeezed her legs together and bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. When Heather slid her hand up her side, she shuddered and closed her eyes. The visual void filled with imagery of herself kneeling at Heather's feet ...

... and the other Harbingers standing nearby ...

"Diane?"

Diane's eyes flew open. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Sorry. I just--" She swallowed. "I wish we could find someplace private."

"So do I." A pause. "If we did, you'd be my slave?"

Diane let out a sultry sigh. "Yes, I'd be your sex slave."

"Without any spells?"

"Just ... j-just treat me like a sex slave ... like ..."

Heather's hand strayed upwards and lay against the side of one of Diane's breasts through her jacket.

Diane swallowed. Her pussy throbbed. "Like you should."

Heather hesitated, as if something was not quite right. She assumed it was just a bit of lingering guilt, and the moment passed. With no spell to backfire, and no one trying to influence her into taking it too far, it had to be okay this time.

Heather nodded and smiled. "All right. Maybe we can do this if my mother's not home yet. Come on."

Melinda's prospects were dim: go to the cemetery or hang out with her sister at the mall. She opted to hop on her bike and head over to the city park. Anything was better than staying at home, as she did not dare risk being alone with her mother.

Yet now she sped home as fast as the slick streets would allow. Something was nagging her to the point of distraction, and all she could think about was her sister's welfare.

I swear, if the bubblehead is getting me home just for sex, I really will kill her, Melinda vowed, though her worry weakened her invective.

Melinda rode up the front walk and dismounted, dumping the bike in the front yard despite her mother's many admonishments against and let herself in the front door.

She looked around and listened as she closed the front door behind her. She took off her shoes and left them on the mat and shed her coat as she stepped through the living room. She heard her father typing away at the computer in his office. Her eyes snapped up when a floor joist squeaked above her.

Melinda rushed up the stairs and saw that the door to the bedroom was closed. She sensing nothing from Heather as dire as earlier that morning, but the sense of trepidation did not diminish. She crept towards the door and heard whispered voices, soft movement, and ... panting?

Melinda steeled herself, grasped the doorknob, and flung the door open. She stepped past the threshold and gasped.

Heather stood facing away, holding the bra she had just removed, leaving her bare from the waist up. Past her, Diane was naked and sprawled on Heather's bed. Her slim legs were bent at the knees and spread, her hand over her mound. Diane's fingers slipped past her folds, a ragged, husky sigh escaping her lips as she tilted her head back.

Heather slid a hand up the inside of Diane's thigh, eliciting a visible shiver from her lover. She draped her hand over Diane's. "Now just keep pumping those fingers in your hot little pussy for me," Heather cooed. "Stay nice and horny for me."

"Uhnng ... yes, Mistress," Diane moaned.

Heather turned away from the bed. "Melinda, close the damn door," she hissed.

"Ohmigod, what are you doing?!" Melinda whisper-shouted.

Heather sighed and shoved her sister out of the way, closing the door. "Yeah, nice going, midget. Want Dad to hear?"

Melinda stared, first at Heather, and then Diane. Diane panted and squirmed as her fingers squished in and out of her cunt.

"Want to join in?" Heather said with a smile.

Melinda's wide-eyed gaze lingered on Diane for another moment before she turned to her big sister. "You bubblehead! You can't do this here! What if Mom comes home?!"

"I doubt very much she's going to say a single fucking thing about it, knowing her."

"But what about the Darkness? Jason said it can sense when we're having sex if we do it close to the lines. That's why--"

"Melinda, stop it. No one's going to get to us here today."

Melinda watched Diane again. "She called you Mistress. You're using the spells from--!"

Diane turned her head towards them. Her fingers slowed but did not stop. She had to obey her Mistress and stay nice and wet for her.

(sex slave to the Harbingers)

"I am not using any spells," said Heather. "We just want to have some fun, that's all. And your voice is getting too loud, runt."

Diane stared at Melinda, another wave of heat spreading over her body. In her mind's eye, she saw herself before Melinda's spread legs, pussy glistening and needful, the aroma of her arousal wafting to Diane's nose and urging her forward as good as any command.

"This is not fair, Heather," Melinda said. "I can't bring Jason up here but you think you can bring Diane anytime you want."

"I said you could join in, didn't I?"

"Don't you dare mess with me!"

Diane had never sought to have anyone other than Heather exert control over her. Her feelings now were new and confusing, but ...

(a slave to the Harbingers)

... it seemed like the right thing to do.

"I'm not going to do anything to you, okay?" Heather snapped. "All right, fine, if you don't want to then--"

"I'll be her slave," Diane said.

Heather turned towards her lover. "You'll what?"

"I'll be her slave, too, Mistress."

Melinda narrowed her eyes.

"Diane, you don't have to ... I mean ..." Heather slowly nodded. "Okay. Okay, yeah. You're Melinda's slave, too."

Melinda gasped. "It just happened again!"

Heather whipped her head towards her sister. "Melinda, dammit, keep your freaking voice down."

"I felt something weird earlier, like something had happened to you. That's why I came home just now. Something's screwy here."

"Don't be stupid, runt. No one got to us."

"But something is not--"

The phone downstairs rang.

"You better go get that before Dad does," Heather said. "You know he doesn't have an extension for the house phone in his office."

Melinda wanted to retort that it would serve her sister right if she got in trouble, but knew it would cause all of them grief in the long run. She caught herself about to stamp her foot, and instead spun on her heel. She barreled down the stairs and reached the phone on the third ring. She waved off her father who had started to emerge from his office.

She waited until he had retreated before putting the receiver to her ear. "What the hell do you want? I mean, hello?"

"Melinda?" came an uncertain voice at the other end.

"Huh? Cassie? Why are you calling here?"

"Is everything okay?" Cassie asked. "Is Heather okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"What?"

Melinda sighed and covered her eyes with her hand for a moment. "I thought I felt something, like Heather was in trouble. She's upstairs about to boink Diane."

"Wait, they're what? I thought we weren't supposed to do that outside of the meeting house or--"

"Yeah, well, that's what I thought. But I guess the rules are just for the lowly peasants like us and not for Queen Sexpot Bubblehead."

"Melinda, are you sure there isn't something going on?" Cassie asked. "I felt something, too, which is why I'm calling."

"I don't know, Cassie! They're playing that stupid Mistress-slave game of theirs and tried to get me to join in. And no, they're not using any spells from the Book."

"You didn't feel any compulsion to join them when Heather asked?"

Melinda hesitated. "Maybe a little, but I can't tell if that's just me or not. God! I don't even know what my freaking sexual orientation is anymore."

"I don't like this, Melinda, not after the things Richie found out when he looked at the grave--"

Melinda made a revolted noise. "Oh, eww, ick, don't go into that now, Cassie!"

Cassie tried not to sigh in exasperation and failed. "The point is that Heather may still be in trouble like Mara said. Please, keep an eye on her."

"Shit, you want me to go up and watch?!"

"Just use your best judgment, okay?" Cassie said, flustered.

"All right, fine. I better go."

"Email Jason later, please? That way he can tell me if everything is okay when I talk to him this evening."

"Got it. Later, Cassie." She hung up the phone before waiting for a reply.

Heather tossed the rest of her clothes on the floor beside her bed and turned to face her lover-slave. "Get up, Diane," she said in a firm but low voice.

Diane withdrew her wet fingers from her slit, issuing a weak moan. She panted as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the movements teasing her excited pussy. As soon as she stood up, Heather slid her hands down Diane's sides. Diane shivered and let out a sultry sigh.

"You really want to do this?" Heather asked in a husky voice. "You really want me to treat you as a slave?"

"Yes, please," Diane said, a tremor in her voice despite its conviction.

Heather smiled. "Feet apart, slave."

Diane obeyed. A soft gasp escaped her lips as Heather's fingers sank into her folds.

"What brought this on?" Heather asked.

"I ... uhnn ... I-I don't know, Mistress."

"I guess you were always submissive anyway, right?"

Diane hesitated. It seemed right to her, yet Melinda's words remained as a weak echo in her head. Was something not right about this after all?

Heather slid her fingers into Diane's tunnel with a wicked smile. "Right?"

Diane closed her eyes. "Uhng! ... Yes, Mistress! ... Oh God ..."

(she is a sex slave)

Heather paused. "What?"

Diane's eyes opened a crack. "H-huh?"

"I thought you had said something."

Diane shook her head. Her hips trembled with the urge to thrust her pussy over Heather's motionless fingers.

(treat her as such)

Heather withdrew her fingers from between Diane's legs. She looked at her wet fingers for a few seconds before her lips curled into a sly smile. She dabbed the moisture on each of Diane's nipples, then pressed the pads of her thumbs against them and stroked hard.

Diane whimpered and squeezed her legs together, her hands clenching and unclenching. By the time Heather relented, she was trembling and gasping with need.

The door suddenly opened. Heather looked past Diane. "Changed your mind?"

Melinda threw the door closed behind her. "That you're a bubblehead? No," she said as she flounced onto her bed.

"Real funny, runt. You know what I mean."

"No, I'm not going to join in your lezzie boink-fest. Just ignore me."

"If you're going to be here anyway, maybe you can go fetch me the bath towel."

Melinda rolled her eyes and launched herself from the bed. She ducked into the bathroom and tossed the bath towel across the room. Heather caught it with a smirk. "Sure you don't want Diane as your sex slave?"

Melinda looked at Diane for a moment. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said in a subdued voice. She grabbed a magazine and jumped on her bed again.

Heather shrugged. She draped the bath towel on the floor at the foot of the bed, holding the end on the edge of the mattress until she had positioned herself upon it. She spread her legs and smiled at Diane. "Kneel in front of me, slave."

Melinda rolled her eyes from behind her magazine and lifted it higher in front of her face.

Diane dropped to her knees and crawled to her lover. Heather slid her foot forward and raised it between Diane's thighs. Diane stopped and gasped as the top of Heather's foot pressed against her wet mound.

"Now, you don't touch this," Heather said, sliding her foot back and forth, eliciting a soft whimper from Diane. "Don't touch it at all."

"Yes, Mistress," Diane moaned.

Melinda gripped the magazine, the pages crinkling, and frowned when she realized she had read the same paragraph several times. She let out a forced, dramatic sigh.

Heather withdrew her foot and spread her labia apart with her fingers. As Diane drew forward, Heather lay her hand behind Diane's head and pulled her in. Diane uttered a small, muffled yelp when her mouth was plastered to Heather's pussy. Several erratic moans burbled into Heather's mound until she tilted her head back enough to breathe.

All of Diane's doubts drowned in Heather's pink wetness. Diane fell to her submissive side, letting Heather rock her hips and grind her sex against Diane's face as Diane licked with abandon. Diane's thighs trembled, her pussy steamy and oozing. Her knees slid apart.

Melinda swallowed. Her fingers began to tear one of the magazine pages. She shifted position on the bed several times, each time spreading her legs further.

"Mmm, yeah," Heather moaned. "Oh, yeah, slave, that's it ..."

Melinda peeked over the top of her magazine, and her eyes widened at the sight of her sister's boobs bouncing. She raised the magazine again, but her pussy ached too much for her to find a comfortable position.

I don't want to join in, she thought. I want sex, but not with them. Not with Diane.

She closed her eyes and tried to think about Jason. She craved an ordinary round of sex with him by her own choice, and without the need to do three other people as well. Besides, he knew how to suck her nipples well, the only one in the Harbingers that did it right.

The pressure on her pussy from the confines of her jeans was unbearable. She put down the magazine, her skin flushed at the sight of Diane face-fucking Heather's pussy. Diane's head tilted up and down, grunting and gasping, her arms wrapped around Heather's thighs.

I don't want them, I want Jason, Melinda thought as she undid the button on her jeans. She yanked down the zipper and slipped her fingers under her panties. She uttered a soft moan as she stroked her clit, her head sinking into her pillow. She shuddered in delight and closed her eyes, faint sighs escaping from between her parted lips as she thought about Jason licking her nipples or her pussy.

Heather's pleasure approached a crescendo. Diane grunted and moaned as her mouth and cheeks rubbed hard against Heather's mound. Just acting the slave was as good as stroking her pussy, her hips bucking with rising pleasure. She relished her role more with every shiver or cry of delight from her Mistress.

The movement under Melinda's panties became frantic, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. Her escalating pleasure escaped as a strained whimper, her erotic thoughts so vivid she could see them play out across her mindscape as if they were real. In her mind, a tongue played deep inside her cunt, then swirled about her clit, driving her insane with rising lust, as if Diane knew every nuance of her. Diane did everything Melinda desired, without question, without complaint, just like a good slave ...

Melinda gasped. Her eyes flew open, her hand faltering. "N-no, not slave ... not Diane ... I meant ... I ... uhhng, no ... not when I ... uhhhnn!" Her hips bucked, her fingers pressed to her slit as she throbbed. Her mind struggled to find the original thread of fantasy.

Notthinkingofdianenotthinkingofdianenotthinking ...

Heather let out a strident moan. Her arm flexed, pinning Diane's face to her cunt. Diane burbled as Heather's cum flooded into and around her mouth, running down her chin and dripping onto her breasts. She let out a single wet cough and gasped as she found air, licking Heather once more. Heather's hips jerked as she came a second time, a smaller squirt of hot cum splashing against Diane's soaked face.

Melinda yanked her hand out from under her panties and sat up, pressing her fists to her temples. NOTDIANENOTDIANENOTDIANE ...

Heather relented and loosened her hold. "Mmmm," she murmured, smiling as she looked down at Diane's wet face.

"Did I please you, Mistress?" Diane asked, breathless.

"Oh, yeah, I'll say you did." Heather grinned as she looked towards her sister. "Looks like someone else enjoyed it, too."

Melinda opened her eyes and glared at her sister.

"You should have waited, you could have had your slave do it for you."

"She's not my slave!" Melinda cried.

Heather's eyelids fluttered as if something had just tugged hard at the back of her mind. Diane let out a small gasp. Heather recovered a few seconds later and hissed at her sister, "SHHH!! If we get into trouble because of you, midget, I swear I'll--"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Melinda said in a whisper-shout. "But I had to do something to snap out of it."

"Snap out of what?"

"I told you, something weird is going on here! This isn't right. I started wanting to do it with Diane, but I wasn't even thinking about her."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Not this again. Look, just admit it, okay? You're fucking bi."

"Will you listen?! It's not that! I wanted ... I wanted her as a slave, but I wasn't thinking about--"

Diane turned, her face still dripping. "Melinda, I'll be your slave, too, I--"

"No," Melinda cried. "I don't want it. Stop trying to make me want it!"

"But I'm not--"

"Yes, you are. I think I just did something with this stupid link to stop it."

Heather paused. She looked at Diane and then Melinda again. "I thought I just felt--"

"That was me, you dumb bubblehead," said Melinda. "And she did it to you first. That's what Cassie and I felt."

"Huh? Cassie?"

"That's who was on the phone before. She felt something, too, and asked me what was going on. She said to keep an eye on you two. Glad I did, or you'd be measuring Diane for a collar by now."

Heather stood up. She closed her eyes and cradled her face in her hands. "All right, let me just think for a minute, okay?"

Diane struggled to her feet. "Heather, what's the matter? I thought you wanted to do this."

Melinda wrinkled her nose and headed into the bathroom.

"I did! I do!" said Heather. "I just ... maybe Melinda is right."

"Oh, be still my heart!" Melinda sneered as she emerged from the bathroom with a hand towel. "The glorious Queen is listening to her lowly subjects! Hey, Diane, heads-up." She tossed the towel to Diane. "You look gross with Heather's goo all over you."

Diane wiped her face as she struggled not to cry, though over what she wasn't sure. "Heather, we did this before and you were okay with it. Oh God, did I just screw up again?"

Heather reached to Diane and pulled her into a hug. "No, shhh, you'd didn't, it's okay."

"I j-just thought you wanted to do this."

"In general, yes, Diane, but I really wasn't thinking about it until you mentioned it at the mall."

"How long ago was that?" Melinda demanded.

Heather withdrew from the hug and turned towards her sister. "I don't know, maybe a half-hour?"

"Yeah, that's about when I started getting worried about you."

"Shit," Diane said in a weak voice, falling to the edge of the bed. "It's Victor, he did something to me. Again!"

"All right, that's it," Heather said. "I'm going to talk to Jason about this. We have to do something to help Diane. We have to break her free of this. We can't keep letting him fuck with Diane's head."

"You can't call him until tonight," Melinda said. "His Mom declared it to be 'family night.' And lots of luck getting Mom to let you make a phone call once she gets home."

"Then I'll send him a fucking email, okay?!"

Diane stood up and darted across the room to where her clothes lay. "I have to get home."

"Wait, Diane, we have to talk about--"

Diane whirled around. "That's just it, you can't, not with me around, not when I can give everything away to Victor!"

"But you didn't last time, we stopped it."

"Yeah, and then they all barely had any energy left to help you afterward. You should just stop worrying about me."

"Well, I can't!" Melinda cried. "I don't want to see anything happen to you!"

Diane stared at Melinda, stunned. That was the first time that Melinda had expressed a direct, sincere concern for the person that had once tormented her with the same glee as her sister before the summer.

"I mean ... I don't want to see anything happen to anyone, even my bubbleheaded sister's weird friends," Melinda said in a subdued voice.

"Thanks," Diane whispered. She tried to gain the courage to meet Heather's eyes as she dressed. She started talking before she could manage it. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel right about this. I can't take the chance I'll mess something up. If you all figure out something to help me, let me know."

Heather tried to say something, but nothing would come to her. She could only stare.

Diane finally looked up. Her gaze was pained. She had hoped to hear or see something that would convince her things were not as bad as they seemed. Instead, she slid her feet into her shoes and side-stepped to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," she murmured.

Both Heather and Melinda exchanged a look after the door closed. When the sound of Diane's footsteps had retreated down the stairs, Melinda collapsed onto her bed. "I hate being right," she muttered.

"If it helps any, I hate it when you're right, too," Heather snapped, folding her arms under her breasts.

Melinda sat up. "This is stupid! We've got all these weird powers or whatever they are and it's never enough. It's like we can't keep up."

"It's not that, Melinda. It's that we don't have enough power to do the things we can do."

"We already did the freaking orgy thing! That wasn't enough?"

"Look, you got it all wrong about how it works. It doesn't give us any power, it just lets us share what we have."

"So where the hell do we get more?"

"I think I might know."

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