"Hey, can I ask you something?" Richie said.

Melinda flinched and almost bumped into him as they walked up Green Avenue. "What?"

"Why the hell do you keep looking at me like that?"

Melinda frowned. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like I'm gonna drag you into some dark alley and fuckin' rape you or something."

"Oh, I have not! Anyway, there's hardly any dark alleys in this part of town."

"That ain't the point," Richie said. "Stop sounding like your nerd boyfriend."

Melinda sighed. "Look, I'm not thinking that about you, okay? I mean ..." Her eyes flicked over his body. "It's ... it's not like I don't want to do it again with you."

"Yeah, but I made you want that."

Melinda stared, her eyes wide. "You did? And you're admitting it?"

Richie shrugged. "Yeah, so? What's the big freakin' deal?"

"And what if I told you to stop it?"

Richie smirked. "I'm not in your head now. It just sorta got planted in there."

"So what if I told you to unplant it?"

"You want me to?"

Melinda pouted and folded her arms. "That's not a fair question."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because if I try to answer that, I don't know if it's what I really want! See, this is what I hate about all this mind control stuff. It gets to where I don't know what's me anymore."

Richie failed to suppress a grin. "So if I did make you answer it, you'd tell me you don't want me to get rid of it?"

"Okay, fine, I probably wouldn't tell you to remove it. Satisfied?"

"Yep."

"God, you're impossible."

"Nope. I'm just gettin' sick of being a phony, that's all."

Melinda gave him a questioning look.

"Look, I don't want to make girls into slaves anymore, okay?" Richie said, speaking a half-truth at best. "And I want to send this Darkness shit packing. But guess what? I like to fuck."

"So you plant stuff in my head just to get it?"

"Crying out loud, it wasn't even me that started it. I don't understand any of this supernatural crap. I just know that we had to do this, just like Jason and Cassie had to do it. I don't think I coulda done it that easily without that going on."

Melinda paused, her eyes shimmering for a moment. She let out a windy sigh when no suitable reply would come to her. She looked down the street as her house came into view around the curve of the road.

"I never tried to get into your head before today, Melinda," Richie said. "Not fucking once since the House."

"You wanted to, though, right?" Melinda asked, her voice not quite as sharp as before.

"Yeah, maybe I did," Richie said. "Okay, yeah, I really did. You may be whiny sometimes, but when you're naked you look hot."

Melinda came to a dead stop. Richie took another step ahead of her before he stopped and turned towards her. "You think I'm hot?" Melinda asked in a softer voice.

"Yeah."

Melinda turned her gaze from Richie, perplexed.

"What, you thought you're not?"

Melinda shook her head. "I just never had anyone say that about me before. It's always Heather that's the hot one, and I'm just her baby sister."

Richie smirked. "Well, mebbe hotness runs in your family or something."

Melinda rolled her eyes but could not suppress a weak grin.

"I mean, c'mon, you got your sister and her big boobs, and I've seen your mother."

"Oh, eww, don't bring her into--"

"And you're starting to sport a pair yourself."

"News flash, Richie! There's more to a girl than her boobs."

Richie grinned. "Yeah, there's her pussy, too."

Melinda shook her head. "Why do I bother?"

Richie grabbed her arm when she tried to turn away. Her hair slapped his shoulder as she spun around. "Hey, I'm jokin', okay? Lighten the fuck up."

The cross look on Melinda's face was automatic and did not last long. "Everybody seems to be telling me that now."

"Mebbe you should start listening."

"I'm trying."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I'm such an asshole about things," Richie drawled. He glanced up the street. "We better call it quits here. Dunno if your mother would think anything of me walking with you."

Melinda nodded. "Hey, maybe you can answer me something before you go."

Richie paused, then nodded once. "Fire away."

"What's with all this insight suddenly? I don't mean just now, I mean like the past two days or so. You never sounded this smart before."

"What, I sounded like a retard before?"

"No, I didn't mean that!" Melinda snapped. "I mean ... well you never said anything that would really help. Shit, that didn't come out right, either."

Richie waved his hand and managed to avoid a frown. He could have claimed he was far from dumb for hours and it would not make any difference to her or the other Harbingers, except maybe Jason. He shrugged again. "I dunno. Mebbe I just didn't have anything to say before and now I do."

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Then mebbe Jason created a smart pill in his secret nerd lab under his basement and I'm his test subject. Look, who cares? I'm in with you guys and that's what matters. Hey, I gotta go. Catch you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, Richie," Melinda said in a more contrite voice. She lingered for a minute as Richie walked ahead of her before she sprinted the final distance to her house.

At first, Jason was sure that the earliest opportunity to examine the data would not come until well into the evening. His mother was intent on having another "family night" that was not likely to end before his parents went to bed. The data had finished downloading during the afternoon, and Jason had just enough time to start a script running to parse them before his mother called him to kitchen duty.

Audrey had not counted on Henry arriving home late without a phone call to inform her. When he finally walked in just as dinner ended and claimed he still had paperwork to do before retiring for the evening, Audrey exploded. Soon Jason was ordered to his room, which he obeyed with alacrity.

It was hard to concentrate when the argument became a shouting match that fell silent only in the wake of slamming doors. He found morbid comfort in his parents' feud. Perhaps if the time ever came to enlighten his mother about her husband, she might be more willing to listen.

Jason studied the results of the data mining. He wanted to know all the transfers, withdrawals, suspensions, and expulsions that had occurred between Halloween and the end of the semester for every year starting with 1985 to the present.

This left him with far more information than he had expected. Haven's population was largely static, and its demographics had not changed very much over the past few decades. Thus the amount of reshuffling he discovered surprised him. It forced him to dig deeper into the data. He found what he was looking for several hours later.

"The whole thing was only thinly disguised in the end, Cassie," Jason said into the phone as he looked at the tabulated results on his computer. "But this just proves how much of a fanatic he is about secrecy."

"Oh goodness! You mean he really has been doing this every year?" Cassie asked.

"Well, he did something," Jason said. "Here, let me explain. Every year since at least 1985, there's been a rash of student shuffling going on at Haven High in the last months of the semester."

"Student shuffling? You mean moving them around to different classes or rotations?"

"No, I mean shuffling them out of the school entirely. Or bringing students in from another school, but that's just part of the cover. Other students are simply withdrawn for various reasons, usually a claim that the family is moving out of Haven, or they want to tutor the student privately."

"All right, I follow you so far," said Cassie. "What else?"

"Well, at first I was stymied because nothing stood out until I looked at who was taken out of the school. Every single year, without fail, the students that were either withdrawn or transferred out of the school included at least one sixteen year old girl."

"Oh no ..."

"So then I started plugging their names into Google. Nothing. Or at least nothing relevant. Any hits I got were for people who coincidentally shared the same name, but their age was wrong, or their past was documented enough to show no relationship to Haven. These girls simply disappeared. That's the only explanation that makes sense. Not even someone like Victor can delete that much information from the entire internet."

A despondent sigh sounded in Jason's ear. "This is a nightmare," Cassie murmured. "This really is like some horror movie, isn't it? At least it feels that way to me."

Jason wanted to act more sympathetic, but the thrill of discovery was still running hot. "I think that's the only relevant data point," Jason continued, voice quavering with the effort to dampen his excitement. "The other student reassignments resulted in people not dropping off the Earth like these girls did. They were likely feints so the removal of exactly one sixteen year old girl every year was not so obvious."

"Why didn't he just falsify the records?" Cassie asked. "Maybe we're reading too much into--"

Jason understood what Cassie was doing, but he couldn't allow it. The sooner they all woke up to the reality, the better. "Because that's not how he operates. Falsified records could be discovered. They might pop up in an audit. Someone curious about why a classmate was mysteriously absent from school might push things far enough to find it. Instead, he made sure he had a nice, legal paper-trail, with no one the wiser."

Cassie was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was measured. "I hate to keep trying to poke holes in your theory, Jason, but how did he arrange for all those other transfers?"

"Huh? What do you mean."

"Well, think about it. Why would other parents just remove their children from the school on a whim?"

"Mann could have used his power on them."

"That many people, though?"

Jason paused, his mind racing. "He had help," he blurted.

Cassie met his statement with dubious silence.

"He would have to, wouldn't he? I mean, his power has limitations. It has to, or there's no need for the secrecy. Look how Ms. Hollis has some of his power. Mann must have given it to her."

"Wait, given it to her?"

"Yes, given. It fits, Cassie! She never exhibited anything close to this power before, has she? It started only after Mann arrived. And remember some of the stuff Melinda saw and heard from Heather, and what you felt from her. It all suggests to me that Ms. Hollis is inexperienced in using this power, or that she doesn't have as much as she wants. Hell, Cassie, the fact that we could push her out of Heather's mind in the first place--"

"Yes, I get it," Cassie said. The silence that followed was brief but heavy. "Jason, I don't like what you're implying. It means Victor could have a whole army of people in Haven to 'tweak' people's minds so they don't notice what he's doing."

"Or arrange for cover for his actions," Jason said, gesturing at his computer monitor. "Though not likely an army. It would have to be a more clandestine organization. That would fit with his style."

"But doesn't that mean Melinda could be in serious danger?"

Jason let out a long sigh. "I'm trying not to think about that."

"If Victor really has more people working for him, it won't be enough to have just Richie looking out for her."

"I know, I know." Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe we can ... we can do this thing with the spell before that."

"I hate this, Jason," Cassie said, her voice quavering. "I hate being forced into something I don't really want to do!"

"Um, did you talk to Ned yet?"

"No. I've ... I've been avoiding him. I don't want him changing my mind for me, not yet. I want my head clear for what I'm going to be doing tonight with Gina."

"You have any idea how you're going to approach it?"

"All I know is that I'm not going to bother trying to change her conscious thoughts again. That just brings Victor's presence to me. That's the really creepy part, Jason. It's like he's got a piece of himself inside the people that he's trying to enslave. And, yes, it did feel like Ms. Hollis had something similar in Heather's head, just not as strong. So I guess you're right about her getting her power from Victor."

"Cassie, I'll try to find a way to get out of some of my chores tomorrow," Jason said. He was careful to hide the doubt from his voice. If his parents were as angry at each other as he suspected, it would not be defused by morning. The last thing his mother would tolerate would be any perception of slacking off.

"I'm going to have to come into town anyway." She sighed. "Melinda could never settle on what she wanted, so the costumer is going to have to go with what he has left that will fit her."

"So what does he have for her?"

"Melinda's not going to like it."

"What is it?"

Cassie told him.

Jason sucked in his lips and draped a hand over his mouth. He uttered a few awkward coughs, and his voice still quavered with amusement when he spoke. "Um, yeah, that's not really suited for her, is it?"

"She's going to want to kill me, isn't she?"

"Well, not if you have Blacknose the Pirate protecting you."

"Oh, this is not funny!"

Jason cleared his throat. "Um, sorry. It'll be okay, Cassie. I don't think any of us will have our mind on the party anyway."

"I know, I was just trying to find some way to make things a little brighter. Maybe I'll see what else the costumer has. Sometimes he gets an order canceled at the last minute. I better get going, Jason. I need to prepare myself for tonight."

"All right. Good luck. And please be careful."

"I'll try, Jason, but we're running out of time. I may have to start throwing caution to the wind."

Jason was about to comment how much she was starting to think like Ned, but thought better of it.

Heather slipped on her nightgown over lacy white underwear, trying to ignore her little sister. Melinda had emerged from the bathroom after brushing her teeth and was arranging her bed, moving about in unabashed nudity. Heather kept her gaze averted as she sat before her dresser, raising her eyes to the mirror only when she was sure she would see only her own reflection. She picked up the hair brush and eased it through her red locks.

Behind her, Melinda finished her task and dashed to the closet. She eyed her big sister as she slid hangers to one side, then cursed when she couldn't find her nightgown.

Heather's strokes with the hairbrush slackened. She stared at herself, her eyes sliding downward to her bra. Her breasts swelled hard against the cups, the flesh appearing about to spill over the tops with each intake of breath. As her arm moved, she was suddenly aware of the tightness of the bra and the tug of her panties in her folds.

The brush stopped. Her lips parted and allowed a soft, husky sigh to pass between them.

Melinda stomped back into the bathroom and found her nightgown behind the door, still hanging on the hook where she had left it that morning. She eyed Heather again as she returned. "At least your Aura is mostly gone."

Heather froze, then blinked rapidly. She turned her head. "Huh?"

Melinda raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine, runt. What is it?"

"Why are you wearing that?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "I wear this same nightgown every night."

"Yeah, but you don't wear that bra. Or those panties. When you wear anything at all, that is. I thought you were sleeping in the nude now anyway."

"So maybe I just wanted to do something different, okay?" Heather snapped.

"But why those? You haven't worn them in years."

"And you keep track of this? Some new underwear fetish of yours?"

"Oh shut up, bubblehead!" Melinda said. She jumped onto her bed and bounced a few times on the mattress. "Your boobs are too big for that old one anyway."

Heather glanced at herself in the mirror again. "I just ... um ..."

"Ms. Bendon made you do that, didn't she?" Melinda demanded.

Heather threw down her brush and bolted up. "She didn't make me do a fucking thing," she grumbled. She reached under her nightgown and removed the bra, tossing it aside. Through the sheer nightgown, Melinda noticed that the nipples were erect. Heather flushed as the nightgown brushed against them. She took a quick breath and turned towards her bed.

"You can't do it, Heather," Melinda said.

"Do what, runt?" Heather grunted as she pulled back the covers.

"You can't be Ms. Bendon's slave. She'll turn you into another Marcie."

Heather sighed. "I really don't want to talk about this now. One crisis at a time, okay? Anyway, maybe we can do something about that before I have to go do it." She climbed into bed and stretched out on her stomach, propping up her face with her hands.

Melinda sat up cross-legged on her bed. "What, you mean the spell?"

"Yeah. Maybe we can use that power to ... I don't know, do something."

"That's not what we were going to use it for."

"So who left you in charge?" Heather said with a humorless smirk.

"That's not what I meant. We might be able to do it only once and we'll need it against the counselor."

Heather shrugged. "Who said it has to be only once?"

Melinda frowned. "And we keep using Diane like that?"

"Why not? She's our slave."

Melinda shook her head. "Oh no she isn't. She's your slave. I'm not involved in your sick little game."

Heather smiled. "No, she belongs to you, too."

"I'm not doing this Heather!" Melinda cried. "You're not going to--"

"Melinda, hush," Heather said. "Just be quiet for a minute and let me talk, okay?"

Melinda wanted to protest. She knew she should protest, but something tugged at the back of her mind and prevented her from speaking. She nodded once.

"I've been thinking about this ever since I got home," Heather began. "It's real simple, baby sis. We don't do this, and something real bad is going to happen."

"We already know he wants to take the Book," Melinda said in a weak voice.

"I'm not talking about that. I've been seeing pieces of that vision in my head at night. I don't think we're really getting what's going on."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean, yeah, Victor takes the Book, but there's something weird about the final bit of my vision, like what he's trying to do with it."

"You said he was fighting someone for it."

"No, you all said that," said Heather. "But I can't see anyone else there. I think he's alone."

Melinda frowned. "Then what--?"

"Melinda, I really didn't want to go off on that. The point is, I feel there's one more vision waiting that will tell me what's really happening. I'm not going to get that if I don't get enough power. We have to use Diane to do it."

Melinda stared. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"You don't like it?"

"Of course I don't like it! What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Even if you think we'll have to do it?"

"Yes, even if ... no, wait, I don't--"

"Even if it feels like the right thing to do?"

"But I don't ... I-I mean ... it can't be right," Melinda sputtered.

Heather smiled.

Melinda glared. "You're doing something to me!"

Heather shook her head. "You don't believe that."

"But ... b-but you have to be."

"Melinda, you know what happened with Diane and Ned?" Heather asked.

Melinda's eyes widened. She knew but could not bring herself to give voice to it.

"Diane fucked him because Ned told her to do it."

Melinda clenched a hand into a fist on her thigh, then slowly relaxed.

"Diane did it because she's a slave. It's that simple. She's Ned's slave." Heather grinned. "I told Diane to go home and frig herself silly after her parents go to bed. She's going to do it because she's my slave, too."

Melinda's eyes flicked over her sister, staring at the lingering wisp of Heather's Aura as if expecting to see it rear up like a snake and slither towards her. It remained weak and quiescent, doing little more than waft in placid swirls about Heather's body.

"I don't need a slave," Melinda said in a weak voice.

"You have one anyway," Heather said. "Diane's your slave."

Melinda swallowed hard and let out a soft sigh. "I don't h-have to give her any orders."

"She's a slave, Melinda. We own her. We have to treat her that way."

"I'll treat her however I want to, thank you very much," said Melinda in a low, feeble voice.

Heather smirked. "Now you're just being contrary."

"So what? I'm your little sister. I'm supposed to be."

Heather grinned.

"Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?" Melinda said. "I want to get to bed so I don't have to keep looking at you with your boobs hanging out."

Heather's grin turned into a sultry smile. "Want to come over here and help keep them warm for me?"

Melinda shook her head. "No, not tonight, please, I really am tired." She paused. "Go call up Diane and get her to do it if you really need it."

"She could do your tits, too, if you wanted her."

Melinda tried to shake her head again, but succeeded only in looking away.

"She's good at it. I know you like that."

Melinda's eyes flashed as she jerked her head towards her sister. "Stop it before you get me too horny to get to sleep."

Heather smiled and rearranged herself on the bed. "Sorry. But just remember what I said, okay? She's a great tit-licker."

"Yeah, okay, whatever, bubblehead," Melinda snapped. She pulled the sheet and blanket over herself as she flopped onto her side. "Night," she grunted as her hand groped for the switch to the lamp on her night table.

"Night."

Both sisters clicked off their lamps within a second of each other, the room dropping into darkness save for the trickle of illumination from the bathroom's night light.

Melinda closed her eyes. As she settled, her thoughts wandered. She shivered at a vision of Diane kneeling before her as she sat on the bed, her breast pressed to Diane's face. A slow, husky sigh rose in the darkness.

Cassie is appalled at what she sees.

To her, strutting about in a skimpy outfit of leather and fishnet like a cheap street whore is far worse than forced nudity. Simple nudity is not this degrading. It is almost a mercy that Gina is not allowed to understand her plight. Reward swamps Gina's mind with hot and wet orgasms, the pleasure swirling around Cassie and teasing her own psyche into accepting Gina's fate.

When Cassie stands before the barrier to Gina's dreamscape, she hesitates. Perhaps Victor has such control now that he has laid a trap, that once Cassie enters, she may never come out. Or if she does, she will have her own unwanted resident in her mind like Gina.

Abandoning Gina would be a stain on her conscience far worse than anything Victor could do to her. She raises her hand to the barrier, and it admits her with the ease of parting a gentle waterfall. When the first thing she lays eyes upon is Victor himself, she believes that it is too easy.

Her body becomes ice, and a scream lies frozen in her throat. Reality asserts itself and quells her panic. It is not the real Victor she sees sitting in a chair at the dining table. His features are too perfect, too crisp, too idealized. It is no more than Gina's perception of him in her dreams, just like Brad the night before.

Gina is in his lap, humping his cock and moaning in delight. Cassie flinches when the vision of Victor speaks.

"Good girl, Gina. This is exactly what you're supposed to do."

"Thank you, Master," Gina pants.

"Just keep listening to me, I'll make sure you do the right thing."

"Yes, thank you. Thank you!"

Cassie is puzzled; she senses not a need for obedience driving Gina, but the need for comfort.

"No need to listen to anything else," Victor's image continues. "Just me. I'll make everything all right."

Gina buries his cock inside her and cums, moaning and squirming. The air pulses with Gina's orgasm, beating against Cassie's eardrums like a deep bass rhythm. It has become a wet dream; Gina's body in the real world is experiencing the same climax.

Cassie backs away and heads off into the darkness surrounding Gina's tiny bubble of dream reality. She is again in the dank and dark dungeon corridor, her bare feet faintly squelching against the clammy stones. The moisture settles against her skin as a sticky and sodden blanket, and she shivers at the icy chill.

Running footsteps and panting breath swell from the darkness ahead of her. They approach, move from one ear to the other, and then retreat. Cassie opens her mouth, but thinks better of it when she hears another sound, much softer, much more distant, but far more chilling.

Footsteps.

Cassie picks up her nightgown and runs, feet splashing in chilled, stagnant puddles. She finds the other corridor, and the panting figure continues on ahead, then ducks into yet another passage. Cassie listens. Victor's footsteps are still distant. She cannot divine from what direction they come.

Cassie pursues what she hopes is the wayward resistance of Gina through more twists at corridor junctions. Each time the footfalls of Gina's malefactor hover at the edge of her perception, sometimes swelling in volume, sometimes fading to a whisper, like a guard on perpetual patrol.

Then, finally, her contact ducks down another side passage, but Cassie can still hear her labored breathing just around the corner. She can no longer hear the "guard."

Cassie creeps forward. "Gina?" Cassie calls out, and nearly flinches at the loudness of her own voice.

"You're not Stephanie."

Cassie hears both hope and terror. "No, I'm not. But she sent me."

"Don't come any closer!"

Cassie freezes. Her heart hammers. "Why?"

"I-I don't want to see you. I don't want to know who you are. Then Victor will know. He'll KNOW. As soon as he sees me again, he'll KNOW."

"You mean ... you mean when he sees you in here?"

"Yes. He just has to glance at me, and he'll know what I've been doing."

Cassie recalls some of the odd things she has seen in Gina's recent memories: the pauses and staring at the window; the confusion over her sexual partners. "You've been fighting him, Gina."

"What??"

"I said you've been fighting him."

"No, I mean ... what did ... you ... you called me Gina."

"Isn't that who you are?"

A pause. A soft sob and a slide down the wall. "I-I don't know."

Cassie's heart aches. She crouches by the corner of the wall. "It's okay, please."

"I don't know who I am!" the girl wails. "I didn't know who I was before Victor arrived. I only know I don't want to be what he wants me to become!"

"He made you forget who you are?"

"I don't ... no ... no, it's not that, it's like there's nothing to remember."

Cassie is confused. Before she can speak again, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise.

(step ... step ... step)

Gina gasps and bolts to her feet. A second later, she is running away.

Cassie takes off as well, turning the corner and catching sight of the back of a bedraggled, naked girl with long, dark hair. She leads Cassie on another chase, but the corridors seem shorter this time, and the footfalls of their pursuer grow heavy and echo from every direction.

Gina's panting becomes more strident and desperate, and her gaze snaps from side to side at each junction. She races down a longer corridor, dark and sepulchral, near total darkness enveloping them before Gina collapses at the foot of one of the walls, wheezing. Behind them, the footsteps fade.

Cassie approaches to comfort her, but Gina flails an arm without turning her head. She stares into the impenetrable blackness ahead of them. "H-he wants me to disappear. Wants me to just fade away into the darkness. He doesn't even want to cage me."

Cassie shudders. "Gina, what d-did you mean before when you said there's nothing to remember?"

Gina pauses, as if needing to decipher her own words. "It's like ... it's like there's no real me ... it's like I'm another made-up thing, but one that doesn't want what Victor wants." She drops her face into her hands and weeps. "It sounds stupid even to me!" she wails through her fingers.

Cassie has no idea what to say. She senses a glimmer of comprehension forming in her mind, but it will take time for her to ...

(step ... step ... step)

Cassie gasps and looks behind her but sees nothing. She hears the eerie footfalls growing closer, and the skin on the back of her neck prickles.

"I have to go," Gina says, rising to her feet. She starts towards the darkness.

"No!" Cassie cries, and tries to grab Gina's arm. Something pushes her back.

"It's okay," Gina says. "He hasn't found me yet. He can't make me part of his reality until he does."

"But I have to help you!" Cassie again rushes forward, but once more, an invisible barrier throws her back.

Gina pauses. She turns her head so that she is in silhouette. "You have," she says, her voice steadier.

(step ... step ... step)

"I feel some kind of energy coming from you. I can't tell what it is, but it's soothing. I don't feel as weak anymore. I think I can hold out until you can reach me again."

The approaching footfalls vibrate up from the floor through Cassie's feet and squeeze her heart. She feels as if it is growing difficult to breathe.

Gina turns away. "If you see Stephanie, please tell her thank you." Her voice fades as the black swallows her. "I would have fallen to Victor by now without her."

And then she is gone.

(STEP ... STEP ... STEP)

Cassie gasps and whirls around. Something slithers at the limit of her vision. She falls back into the shadows, but the barrier prevents her from going far.

(STEP)

The figure stops. Cassie holds her breath. It stands at the junction, a cloak or a trench coat billowing behind it. Its blackness stands out in sharp relief against even the darkness shrouding it.

For the first time, Cassie can sense it as a tangible presence. It radiates emotion like a small sun. Obedience. Submission. Devotion. Loyalty. Duty. Only the link to the Harbingers prevents her from falling to her knees at its feet. She has shielded against him by pure reflex.

The figure lingers, then steps out of sight. Its footfalls fade once more. The pressure against her shield eases.

Cassie lets out a slow sigh. Her body tingles, and everything fades to a gray haze.

Cassie opened her eyes, paused a few seconds, then sat up.

She let out her breath. This was the first time she had awoken from such an experience without feeling as if her heart were going to burst. For once, she had control. Her parting had been as she had willed it.

She got out of bed. Twilight was giving way to morning. She had to be out of the house not long after the sun rose, or her mother would insist she stay for mid-morning tea and remain prim and proper for her parents' social engagements.

Cassie used the bathroom and pondered her tea set. She did not feel the need for her usual morning herbal balm for her jangled nerves. A sense of calm had come over her that she had not felt for some time, not since her nights were filled only with the mundane dreams of her fellow Haven denizens.

Cassie padded over to her night table and picked up her cell phone. She had a voice mail from Ned.

"Heya, babe, hope things went a-okay in yer tip-toing' through Gina's mental tulips," he drawled. "I know yer busy today, but can ya swing by a little early? I got something I wanna talk ta ya 'bout."

Cassie sighed as she deleted the message.

She set the phone down and considered what she had not wanted to admit. Perhaps her joining with Jason the day before had energized not just Heather but herself as well. She had felt something similar the day of the orgy, but not as pronounced.

Her thoughts turned to Richie, the only boy in the Harbingers with whom she had yet to tryst. A hint of warmth wafted through her nether regions.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. No, not after what I almost did to him.

She opened her eyes, and the thought remained. Her experience with Jason was repeating itself. It was only a distraction now, little more than a stray thought, but it would become an urge, then a compulsion, and then a desire.

Cassie stared straight ahead, eyes shimmering. She shuddered with the force of revelation. She snatched the phone into her hand again, fumbled with the speed dial, then canceled the call before it could start to ring. No, it's too early in the morning, she lied to herself.

She was startled when the phone suddenly warbled in her hand. She blinked as she looked at the caller ID, then jammed the phone to her ear. "Ned??"

"Ya okay, babe?" Ned said.

"Well, yes, I am, how--"

"The phone jus' did a kinda split-second ring and stopped. I took a guess."

"Yes, it was me. I had a startling thought, and I have to tell someone."

"What's up, babe? Ya manage ta get Gina outta Victor's clutches?"

"No, not that, but I did make some headway. It's more about Stephanie, Ned. I think I understand what happened to her. More importantly, I think I know what's happened to me!"

A figure thrashes in the dim light, ropes stretching and biting into skin. The bed creaks under her, body writhing in unrelenting sexual torment. Her cries lose coherence, and her whimpers fade. She makes only soft grunting noises as her mind reels. Her hips rise, pussy dripping upon the sheets.

Beside her bed, hooded sentinels watch.

"Idiot," a voice rasps from a figure silhouetted against the feeble light, his head a dome with fuzzed fringes.

"It is necessary," intones the shadow before him, voice sepulchral from the depths of his hood.

"It wasn't until you used the oil on her, you dolt!" the bald one hisses through clenched teeth.

"She is resisting us, and the Glorious One told us--"

"I know perfectly well what he told you! But you know his feelings on this as well!"

The hooded one paused. "A mistake."

"And only now you figure it out!"

"This is the only way to correct it."

"No, it's not." The bald one thrusts an arm towards the bed. "You all have her convinced how the stuff works. Convince her otherwise."

A pause. "I do not understand."

"Change her perception of the oil. Or make her perceive it has worn off."

"But ... it does not wear off, not until the one affected has been granted sexual release."

"I know that's what you make her believe, so just--"

"But that is how it works," said the hooded one. "I do not understand what you ask."

The bald one buries his face in his hands. "My God ... you've all ... it's been so long that now you really think ... dammit ... DAMMIT ... I told him this could happen, that you'd all start believing this pseudo-religious--"

"I do not understand," the hooded one persisted. "We must perform the ritual on her. Then she will succumb."

"She's only fourteen! She's too young! Victor never--"

A strangled cry rises from the bed, and both heads turn. The figure gasps and twitches as if suffocating.

"She is nearing the end," the hooded one says.

"Oh dear God ... this is insane ... a-all right. Do it. But don't linger at it."

The hooded one nods. He approaches the bed, drawing his hands to his robe and parting it. "Young one, receive me." He sheds his robe, others taking it from his shoulders as it slides off, leaving him nude. He climbs atop the bed, his hard cock bobbing under him, the head damp in anticipation. "Receive me, and become our slave."

He descends. There is a wet sound, then a keening wail of sexual lust unleashed ...

Heather awoke and jerked into a seated position on the bed, the blanket falling away from her rumpled nightgown. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "Melinda."

A lump under the blanket in the other bed grunted.

"Melinda!" Heather hissed.

The lump stirred. A single arm emerged and fell outside the blanket. Melinda rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes. "What the hell is it?" she mumbled.

"I had the vision about you again. It's really strong now."

Melinda struggled to sit up, blinking. "Fine. Should I applaud or throw money?"

"This is not funny, runt."

"Neither is you waking me up at ..." Melinda turned her head and squinted at the clock. "What the fuck?! Six freaking A.M. on a Saturday morning?"

"I don't know how you can sleep at a time like this."

"Then I'll show you." Melinda turned over and thumped back on her side. She yanked the blanket over her head and became a lump once more.

Heather bolted to her feet and across the room. She yanked Melinda's blanket and sheet back and threw them over the foot of the bed.

"What the hell, Heather?!" Melinda protested, sitting up.

"We have to get up now."

"Why? I don't have to get my measurements taken for the costume until nine!"

Heather turned away from the bed and took off her nightgown, leaving her naked save for her panties. "Because I still have no idea how any of this is supposed to happen to you." She tossed the nightgown onto her bed and headed to the dresser.

"What is supposed to happen to me?" Melinda demanded. She averted her eyes when Heather shimmied out of her panties and revealed her pussy between her legs as she bent over to fetch a fresh pair from the drawer. "You never told me anything about it."

"I didn't want to frighten you, or have you ask me a million questions I can't answer like you always do with my visions."

Melinda sighed and jumped out of bed. "Great. That's like telling me to look out for the tree when I'm about to walk into a forest."

Heather stepped into a fresh pair of panties and pulled them up her legs. She grabbed a bra and turned towards Melinda. "I don't control how I get them, runt. But maybe if we're up early we can figure out if Mom has any part in this."

Melinda snorted. "Of course she does. She already sold you out. She's probably just thinking what kind of price she can get for me."

Heather put on her bra and lifted her hair, letting it spill down her back. "Melinda, it wasn't quite like that."

"She sold you to Ms. Bendon!" Melinda cried.

"She didn't sell me, runt. She was trying to protect me."

"Some protection!"

"Look, I'm not going to pretend she hasn't really fucked things up for us," Heather said as she crossed the room towards Melinda. "But she at least tried to do something for me. Or would you rather I be Ms. Hollis' toy as well?"

Melinda shivered. "God, I hope something nasty happens to her before I have her next year."

"If we don't do something about the Darkness before then, it's not going to matter."

Melinda wrapped her arms around herself. "Now you're scaring me."

Heather smirked. "Stop being so melodramatic. Come on, let's get dressed. If we get downstairs early enough, we might be able to make some breakfast for ourselves and not give Mom a chance to work you over or something."

"But I thought you just said she was being all nice to us now."

"She did it this once. She's going to have to do it a lot more before I believe she's really trying to fight against the Darkness," Heather said as she fetched a pair of jeans. "And I don't think she is. I think she just had an opportunity and took it."

"Can't you even tell me who it is that's supposed to be doing something to me?" Melinda asked as she began to dress.

"I wish I could, but I don't know who I saw. The guy that seemed in charge wasn't Victor, though he mentioned Victor's name. And the rest of them were just a bunch of people in hoods and robes like I saw before."

"Shit, Heather, that is really creepy! Maybe I don't want to know what they were doing to me as much as I thought I did."

Heather nodded. "Yeah, best you don't know for now."

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