"Harry, turn around!"

Cassie's driver flinched. "I'm sorry, Miss Kendall?"

"Turn around and head back into Haven."

"We are almost at the bridge, Miss Kendall."

"I don't care. I ... I forgot something. Something I need to see Melinda about. Take me back to the Sovert residence."

"But I need to get you back to the mansion in time for the luncheon," Harry said. "Your parents will be terribly disappointed if you--"

"I don't care." Cassie tried to adopt the same haughty tone she often heard her mother use with the serving staff, despite how much it grated on her. "You are not paid such a good salary to disobey orders and tell me what I am to do or not do. You will do as I say at once."

Cassie wanted to follow up her tirade with an apology. Harry let out a windy sigh and slowed the limo. He signaled for a turn and drove into the gravel along the side of the road. "Very well, Miss Kendall. But I do this under protest, and I will report this to your parents."

"Do what you have to, Harry, so long as you take me where I want to go."

Cassie settled back into her seat as Harry struggled with maneuvering the limo through the U-turn on the narrow two-lane blacktop. She wished she had time to pick up Ned. Despite her lingering anger towards him, she could have used his comfort.

And, perhaps, his muscle as well.

Richie fell into lock-step with Melinda as soon as she was out of sight of the Sovert home, bursting from the wooded area by the side of the road and startling her. He did not see the Aura until he was walking next to her. "Your mother fuck with you?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"What gave you your first clue?" Melinda muttered in a weak voice.

"So where are you going?"

"To the store," Melinda said. She let out a soft, husky sigh as her pussy throbbed. She quickened her pace.

"Hey, wait, what's the hurry?"

"I-I just have to get there fast."

"Shit, she making you do this?"

Melinda stopped and spun towards him. At once she strained at the edge of orgasm. Her thighs trembled, her pussy hot and aching. She bit her lip to suppress a whimper. "You th-think I'd go do this myself?" she cried in a quavering voice.

"How's she makin' you do it?" Richie demanded. "I mean, you can still talk about it like--"

"Do you have to have all the disgusting little details? Do you ... ohmigod, Richie, please, I-I have to keep going." She started down the street again and moaned despite her attempt to suppress it. Her low, rolling orgasm returned, the pleasure washing away any thoughts of further resistance to her mother's wishes.

Richie stared for a few seconds before rushing to catch up. "Fuck, did you just cum?"

Melinda blushed. "I s-still am. It stops if I stop."

"You can't just ignore it?"

"I already tried," she said in a tiny voice. "I-I just strain and strain and can't go over and it drives me nuts."

"Oh, yeah, I was wondering why you kept startin' and stoppin' like that when I first saw you come out of your house."

"It gets harder to even want to stop." Melinda wiped her eyes and sniffled once.

Richie frowned. "Shit. I'm sorry, Melinda, but your mother's a fucking bitch for doing that to you."

Melinda didn't reply. His words were no darker than her own thoughts. She wished she could ignore it. When she was younger and still experimenting with masturbation, she could tense her muscles enough to prevent her from cresting. Allowing herself to cum was a relief, but not an all-consuming need.

She finally had to accept that Haven had changed her. Sex had become more than simply a pleasurable pursuit. She could no longer pretend that it was happening to the others and not her.

Richie looked around as they continued down Green Avenue. "All right, I got your back. Anyone that wants to fuck with you will have to fuck with me first. And I ain't in the mood to be fucked with."

Richie thrust a hand into the pocket of his jacket and curled his fingers around the baseball. He knew he could count on himself when he had that in his hand. He had used it once to hit a box that floated in mid air. He was sure he could hit an equally sized target closer to the ground.

Like someone's head.

"What the fuck is with ya, huh?"

Ned rolled his eyes and looked towards his father. "What did I do now?"

"The rich bitch ain't good 'nuf for ya? Now ya got some Jap chick droolin' over ya?"

Ned frowned and put down his magazine. He swung his legs over the bed. "What are ya talkin' ... Wait, ya don't mean Diane?"

His father scratched his beer gut. "Dunno her name, jus' know I'm tryin' ta watch the fuckin' game. She's at the door."

Ned sighed and bolted from his bed. "First off, she's not even remotely Japanese, so I don't even know why the hell ya think she is, 'less it's jus' cuz she's dark-haired, slim, and got dark eyes."

"Look, I dunno, 'kay? I call 'em as I see 'em. Her eyes looked a bit chinked-up an'--"

"And second of all, terms like 'jap' and 'chink' went out with bell-bottoms. Get with the fuckin' program, Dad." Ned pushed past his father and bounded down the stairs.

"Guess it went out with stupid kids payin' respect to their parents, too!" his father bellowed.

Do something worthy of respect and I'll show you some, Ned thought. He came close to saying it, mouthing the first few words as he rushed for the front door, passing by the TV set that blared a football game at full volume. Ned opened the front door just enough to let his slim frame slip outside and pulled it shut behind him.

Diane fell back a step. "I'm sorry, did I come at a bad time, Master?"

Ned waved a hand. "Ixnay on the astermay around here, 'kay?" He grabbed her hand and steered her down the walk and towards the street. "I know why yer here. I felt it, too."

"It was Melinda, wasn't it?" Diane said.

"Yeah. Damn. Wish I could get over there."

"What about Cassie? Could she come get us?"

Ned shook his head. "If Cassie's got an ounce o' sense, she'd be high-tailin' it over there an' won't waste time pickin' us up."

Diane's eyes pleaded. "Then what do we do? We have to do something. Please, Master, order me to do something to help."

Ned grinned. "Well, there's a few things I'd love ta order ya to do. An' it'll sure as hell give Melinda some power."

Diane smiled and nodded, stepping close to him. "I'll do whatever you want, Master. Do you want to fuck me again?"

Ned felt his cock stir and smirked. "Loaded question fer sure. But, alas, there be no place to do it."

"What about the others? Have you talked to them yet?"

"I think I got through ta Cassie. That jus' leaves Jason and Richie."

"I really want to be their slave, Master," Diane said in a husky voice. "I'm almost always wet now because I can't stop thinking about it."

"I'm hopin' that if something goes down with Melinda, the others can stop it," said Ned. "Then we can all do it this afternoon at the meeting house an' stop Victor from doin' this shit again ta us."

Jason skidded to a stop on his bicycle at the intersection near the Sovert home. He glanced to the north towards the house and contemplated ringing the bell, but he assumed he was still persona non grata by Penny Sovert's edict. He doubted she would yield any useful information or allow him to speak with Heather.

Jason looked to the south and stared. What the hell...?

He narrowed his eyes and peered. A thin, wispy tendril of black hung suspended in the air, like a single strand of spider silk undulating in the breeze. It stretched south down Green Avenue, following the edge of the road.

He closed his eyes and still saw it: an energy pattern overlaid on his vision. With his eyes closed he could see a faint pattern reminiscent of what he remembered from Penny's Aura.

He opened his eyes. It remained superimposed on his view. He turned his bike south and pedaled fast.

Richie's eyes darted, his muscles tensed, as they walked down Columbine. He recognized the street. A park lay a few blocks ahead where he sometimes played ball during the summer. It was just a typical, sleepy little street that wound through the Hillcrest subdivision.

"Where the hell is this store, anyway?" Richie said.

"It's where this street crosses Franklin," Melinda said, her walk now quickened to a trot.

"Fuck, we could've got at it from the other direction."

"Mom said to come this way."

Richie frowned. "Yeah, I bet she did." He grabbed her arm. "Slow down, dammit."

Melinda whimpered. She tried to pull her arm from his grip but his fingers tightened. "Richie, stop it, I have to--"

"Look, I know this is gonna be hard on you, 'kay, but I don't like how I can't see nothing down this fucking street 'cause of all the twists and turns."

Melinda panted. Her pussy strained and crested, gentle and wonderful pleasure teasing her for a few seconds before it stopped and strained again. She fought the urge to beg him to let go. "We're in the middle of a housing development, Richie!" Melinda finally exploded. "Who's going to do anything right in front of everyone?"

Richie looked around. Melinda's eyes widened, the shock of realization enough to allow her to stop walking.

The street was deserted. No kids played in their yards. No parents raked leaves. The neighborhood was silent and still as death. They heard not even a barking dog.

"What 'everyone?'" Richie said. "You see any 'everyone?'"

"Shit," Melinda said in a tiny voice. She let out a tremulous sigh. "Richie, I-I have to keep going."

Richie held her in place.

"Richie!" Melinda moaned. She clung to him, panting hard into his jacket. She rubbed the crotch of her jeans against his leg, but only strained harder at the edge. Whimpering, she thrust a hand under her jeans and panties and rubbed her pussy. Relief remained out of reach.

"Fuck," Richie muttered. "All right, all right, we'll go. Better than lettin' you frig yourself in front of God and country."

Melinda moaned and shuddered as she took her first steps, her orgasm flooding her pussy with throbbing heat. "Don't make me stop again," she moaned.

As Cassie's limo started north on Green Avenue, she tried to sort out her own thoughts from those of Melinda. She had intended to ease herself into Melinda's head, but it was impossible to perform such a connection halfway. She had slid into Melinda's head with the same effort as taking a breath.

She chafed her arms at the icy touch of the Darkness. Her pussy tingled in sympathy to Melinda's orgasmic cascade. She uttered a tiny sigh of relief at Richie's presence.

Cassie sensed that Melinda felt rushed, and that her sexual pleasure was tied to it. When she slowed or stopped, it held her at the cruel edge of climax. When she resumed, it rewarded her.

Cassie interrupted her contemplation when the car suddenly slowed down. She was still extricating herself from Melinda's thoughts as she craned her neck to see out the windshield. It was another limo.

"Harry, who's in front of us?" Cassie asked.

"Another limousine, apparently, Miss Kendall," said Harry.

"I know that! Do you recognize it?"

Harry considered. "It might belong to the Davenports."

Cassie shook her head. "The Davenports are still on their Caribbean cruise."

"Then perhaps Mr. Gerrison from the south. He sometimes cuts through Haven on his road trips. Or Mr. Remmer, perhaps, from Mesa View."

"Charles Remmer? Is he still in Haven?"

"As I understand it, yes, Miss Kendall."

"My father has not had any dealings with him in years. I thought he had retired."

"I am not privy to that, Miss Kendall."

Cassie paused. It had to be a coincidence. "Harry, you have a note pad and pen up there with you, don't you?"

"Well, yes, Miss Kendall, but--"

"Hand them back to me," Cassie said. "Then tell me the license plate number of that limo."

"Whatever for, Miss Kendall?"

"Never mind why, Harry, please, just do it."

Harry took a hand from the wheel and fished around for a minute, then held the pad and pen up behind him. Cassie took them and said, "Okay, now what is the plate number?"

Harry recited it.

"Thank you." Cassie looked up. "We're slowing down again."

"The limo in front of us is signaling for a left turn. I do not have room to go around him."

Cassie watched the limo turn and head down Columbine. It's brake lights glowed. She turned her head away when she could no longer see it. She suddenly frowned. Melinda wanted to keep rushing but now she wants to slow down?

She glimpsed a boy on a bicycle whiz by in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. Cassie gasped as she turned her head.

Jason?!

Columbine took a near right-angle turn to the north, then curved back west, forming a small pocket that was the remnant of a cul-de-sac that was cut through to extend the development. The neighborhood was dead silent, as if they were stragglers left after a mass evacuation.

Their steps slowed. Richie turned his head to one side and the other, eyes narrowed and suspicious. His muscles tensed until the fingers around the baseball ached. Something was not right, but he could not determine what.

You're slowing down.

Richie knew this. Why he felt the need to remind himself he was not sure. Melinda suddenly swayed and bumped into him. Richie looked at her. "You okay?"

Melinda stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"You all right?"

"Um, yeah, fine. Fine as I can be."

"Still cumming?"

Melinda frowned. "Why? So you can get off on it?"

"Do I look like I asked cuz I wanna get off?"

Melinda paused and shook her head.

You're both slowing down.

Richie frowned and wondered why he chose to state the obvious in his thoughts.

"Yes, I'm still c-cumming," Melinda replied in a low voice. "Just very gently."

Richie nodded. "Maybe that's why we're--"

You're not SUPPOSED to be slowing down, asshole!

Richie blinked. His teeth clenched as he grabbed Melinda's arm. "Come on."

Richie tried to sprint ahead. Melinda dragged as if her feet were leaden. "Wait, what are you doing?!"

"We're supposed to be moving! You said don't stop!"

"I know, but--"

"So why the fuck are you slowing down?"

Melinda paused, her thoughts slogging through her head as if crawling in molasses. "I ... it's ... I'm supposed to."

"Bullshit. Come on."

Richie yanked her arm, and Melinda stumbled into a run. "No, Richie, wait! Uhng ... I'm not cumming anymore, please, stop!"

Richie did stop. Melinda collided with him and moaned with relief as her pussy burst into orgasm, her thighs trembling as her hips jerked with the first few rewarding throbs. She raised her head and looked past Richie, her startled gasp lost in her panting pleasure.

Up ahead, at the end of the former cul-de-sac, stood three men and two women, leaning against the cars on either side of the street. All five faces beamed with friendship.

Richie's eyes darted between them. Of course they were friendly. That's all he should expect to find in this neighborhood. Just friendly people that mean them no harm. Now they stepped towards the two teens, intending only to make friends and assure them that they were safe and secure.

Bullshit, Richie thought.

Richie's feet became two lead blocks. The link glowed just past the miasma of false perception, and he seized it before it could retreat from his grasp. He found little power to be had, only a thin trickle delivered and pulled into his mind by sheer willpower. It allowed him to see the other link as a tangible force for the first time, the one that had sat on a boulder outside his house years after the divorce. Holding on to both, he pulled himself up from the pit of false normalcy created by the five people ahead.

He grabbed Melinda's arm, but before he could pull her back the way they came, a car engine rumbled up behind him. He whipped his head around in time to see a limo pull up. He greeted its appearance with relief until he realized that the car model was different from Cassie's.

The limo pulled into the false cul-de-sac and turned to block the road. A distinguished, balding man emerged, stepped forward, and waited.

Melinda did not move or speak, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She shuddered and leaned into Richie as her orgasm intensified. Hot pleasure geysered into her mind, along with the idea that she had to remain right where she was if she wanted to be safe and happy.

Richie felt the pressure increase again. He turned his gaze back to the five. They advanced, all smiles and pleasantness. Slowly, Richie smiled in return.

Heather burst out of her room and took the stairs two at a time, grabbing the banister when her foot missed a step. She thudded to the bottom of the stairs and ran for the front door.

"Heather!" came a shout from behind her.

She raced ahead. Footsteps caught up with her, and when she started to open the door, a hand fell against it and slammed it shut.

Heather whirled around and cast a furious look at her mother. She opened her mouth to protest, but it came out as a startled gasp instead. She had just glimpsed the inky black tendrils of her mother's Aura wrapping themselves around her before her pussy rose and hung at the edge of ecstasy. She moaned and struggled to push it back, but all her energy had been given to Melinda and Richie. She fell back against the door, her hands clenching into fists.

"Think about obeying me by staying home," said Penny.

"Unggh!" Heather's pussy gushed into her panties, and she slid to the floor. The chill of the Darkness lodged her mother's words in her head like large icicles.

"Obey me, Heather. Obey your mother like a good girl."

Heather's orgasm became a single rolling climax, a sweet, blissful paroxysm of pleasure that spread comforting warmth through her body. Her hands tried to clench once more, but trembled at her sides instead as a dark, wet stain spread over the crotch of her jeans.

Penny swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky. "You made me do this, Heather. I didn't want to. You just have to let it happen. Your sister will be all right."

Heather forced herself to take several deep breaths, as much as her body wanted to keep her panting in desire. She sought the link in her head and groped for it through the thick, cloying fog of induced lust.

"That's it, Heather," Penny said as she crouched by her daughter. "Just accept it for now. This is easier on all of us."

Heather seized the link but didn't draw any energy from it. She just needed the connection to the others and her sister. She sensed all the Harbingers now as if they were in the room with her. She sensed Melinda's deepening fall as the link slipped from her sister's grasp.

She lifted her eyes to her mother.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. Maybe I'll be able to explain this to ... to you ... I ... what--?!"

Penny rose to her feet. Her thighs quaked, and she stumbled and fell to the floor with a gasping moan. Her nipples rose and ached as they rubbed against the cups of her bra with her quickened breath. Her pussy became hot.

Heather forced herself to her feet, her eyes burning, her body shaking with towering fury.

Penny opened her mouth to speak, but could only gasp as her pussy steamed. "Wh-what ... what's ... no, n-not yet ... t-too early ..."

Heather unclenched her jaw enough to speak. "It's not the fucking Darkness, Mom, it's me. I wasn't sure I could do it. I thought maybe it only worked on the other Harbingers. But it looks like I can do this to anyone. I can make anyone so fucking horny they can't even think."

Penny whimpered and thrust her shaking hand under her jeans and panties. She rolled onto her back as her fingers whipped up and down her slit, her legs spreading wide.

"I should've realized I could do this before. Maybe I could've stopped you from screwing over Melinda. Maybe I could've done a lot of things, I don't know."

Penny moaned. Her hand faltered. Tendrils of her Aura snapped in the air or spun around Penny's body like a hurricane.

"Yeah, you're already pushing me back. I know, I probably won't be able to do this against you anymore. I caught you by surprise. Plus I'm just so fucking pissed at you and scared for Melinda. But don't even think about stopping me from leaving."

Heather yanked open the door and barreled out of the house.

"The Sovert residence, Miss Kendall," said Harry as he pulled the limo to a stop across the road.

Cassie did not hear him, as Heather had suddenly burst out of the house and ran straight for the limo. Cassie gasped when she both saw and felt the panic. Heather skidded and collided with the car as Cassie lowered the window over Harry's protests.

"Cassie!" Heather gasped, out of breath. "Melinda's in trouble, right now! She's over on--"

"On Columbine, yes, I can see it now! Oh goodness!" Cassie unlocked the door and slid over. "Heather, get in!"

"Here now!" Harry cried. "What is this?"

"Harry, turn around and head back south, then turn right on Columbine."

"See here, Miss Kendall! What is this about someone in trouble? Should I be calling the police?"

Cassie almost told him yes. The police would be the catch-all solution for any situation like this anywhere other than Haven. "Harry, do as I say."

Harry took out his cell phone. "I must check this with your mother first."

Cassie clenched her teeth and snatched the cell phone out of Harry's hand just as he brought it near his ear.

"Now see here--!"

"Harry, do as I say!" Cassie yelled. "Or I swear as sure as I am sitting here I will tell my parents whatever is necessary to get you FIRED!"

Heather stared at Cassie in both shock and admiration. Harry paled, swallowed, and turned back to the wheel. "As you wish, Miss Kendall," he said in a stiff voice.

Cassie fell back into her seat and fought the urge to break into tears.

Ned sat on the hood of his parents' ancient Buick, parked on the street half a block from his house. Ned suspected the real reason it was not in the garage was not because the garage was filled with too much junk, but because his parents didn't want anyone associating the rust-bucket with them.

He stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and unblinking. Diane leaned against the side of the car, her hands folded before her. She was doing the same thing as Ned, which was to focus her energies on the link, but she cast furtive glances at Ned when he would not break the unnerving quiet.

"This ain't gonna work," Ned finally said.

Diane turned towards him. "I don't understand."

"We ain't got 'nuf energy ta give her. We shoulda done the horizontal fandango first."

"But you said there was nowhere to do it."

"We coulda grabbed a cab ta the meeting house."

Diane wanted to make the same point that Ned was already thinking, that they would not have made it in time to do any good. But a good slave does not argue with her Master, so she remained quiet and cast her eyes downward.

Ned blamed himself simply for lack of anyone else to blame. If he had known where Melinda was going to be taken, he could have been there. While he remained confident that Richie would not roll over for these people, he wanted to be there to get in some shots himself.

He pushed himself forward and clamored off the hood, his feet slapping to the blacktop. He snapped his fingers.

Diane rushed to his side. "What is it, Master?"

"We're headin' ta the meeting house soon as I scrounge up some bling fer a cab."

"Oh. But you said--"

"Yeah, mebbe we can't get there in time, but whatever happens, we gotta hit 'em back," Ned said. "I'm bettin' Jason's gonna do the right thing. An' if he doesn't, I'll call Richie and make 'im beat some sense inta Jason fer me if I hafta. Come on, let's go."

"Yes, Master," Diane said.

Richie smiled as the closest of the five, a man, approached and extended a hand in greeting. Richie raised his as well. Just as their hands were about to touch, Richie snatched his away and kicked the man in the crotch with all his strength.

The man's eyes glazed. He made a strangled noise and collapsed to the ground. Some of the pressure on their minds eased. The other four paused, and the balding man behind them gasped.

Richie grabbed Melinda's arm and tried to pull her back. She was slower to find her resistance, her mother's Dark power still in her head. One of the four remaining assailants, a woman, rushed forward.

Richie yanked Melinda back. She stumbled and fell to the ground. When the woman reached for her, Richie whipped out the baseball and let it fly. His aim was dead-on; the woman screamed and staggered back as her nose exploded in blood.

"No, no, no!" the balding man cried out and pulled out his cell phone.

The remaining three charged. Melinda had begun to emerge from the haze. She tried to crawl away from their assailants and whimpered when one of the two remaining men grabbed her ankle. Her pussy throbbed at his touch, his reality riding the orgasmic wave into her psyche. She let herself be drawn towards him, knowing it would feel so good and she would be safe.

"This is Charles!" the balding man shouted into his phone. "Get down here, we need more people, it's a debacle!"

Richie drew his foot back to kick the man that had grabbed Melinda when the other grasped the collar of his jacket and hauled him back. Richie let loose a string of vile epithets and flailed, one fist glancing off the side of the man's head and boxing his ear.

"What?!" Charles suddenly cried as a blur whizzed by the rear fender of his limo.

"Look out!" the remaining uninjured woman shouted at the same time.

The forward wheel of a bicycle slammed into the side of the man holding Melinda's ankle. Jason was tossed from the bike and crashed into him, sending both of them sprawling. The man rolled away from Jason and clutched his side, his face twisted into a grimace.

Melinda pulled herself to her feet and stared in horror at Jason on the ground.

Jason started to pull himself up. "Melinda, go! Go! RUN!"

Melinda was torn between escape and going to her lover's side until she saw that his injuries were limited to a few scratches on his arm oozing blood. Melinda finally turned away, but her delay allowed the uninjured woman to step into her path.

The woman was middle-aged, with a cherubic face and bright blue eyes under waves of light brown hair. She beamed at Melinda and said in a sweet voice, "You don't need to leave just yet, Melinda. You would really much rather stay."

Melinda froze. The man that had assaulted Richie had managed to pin one of his arms behind his back, forcing him to his knees amidst his screaming incomprehensible epithets. Jason ran for Melinda, but the man into whom he had run his bike thrust out his leg and tripped him, spilling him to the ground.

The noise shocked Melinda out of her stupor, and she ducked to the side to go around the honey-haired woman. The woman stepped into her path again. "You want to stay with us, Melinda. That just seems the right thing to do now."

Melinda's lower lip trembled. She tried to move, but her legs quivered and took her nowhere.

"Melinda, don't!" Jason cried. He scrambled to his feet and kicked at an attempt to grab his ankles. He ran for Melinda once more, but the help that Charles had summoned had arrived. A man grabbed Jason, while another took hold of Richie's still-flailing free arm.

Melinda whimpered and stumbled to the side. She bumped hard into someone and staggered back. "Melinda, listen to Kelly," said Charles. "You'll be safe if you stay here."

"Yes, Melinda, you want to be safe," said Kelly, closing from the other side.

A woman that had arrived with the two men stepped up, a slim blond with a high and breathy voice. "Of course, Melinda, you're safe with us."

Jason kicked his feet back at his assailant to no avail. His assailant forced him to his knees.

Melinda swayed under the mental assault. She was losing her hold on the link. The power coming to her was a trickle compared to that of the three people around her. Now the injured ones lent their mental strength as well.

"Be safe, Melinda," Kelly cooed.

"Safe with us," Charles said. "Completely safe and sound."

"You can trust us, Melinda," said the blonde.

Melinda made a half-hearted attempt to step to one side. Kelly blocked her and placed a hand on Melinda's shoulder. "Relax. You're safe now."

Charles caressed her cheek. "Yes, be calm."

The blonde stroked her hair. "Let us take care of things for you."

Melinda's resistance slipped. Feelings of relief and peace washed over her. She let her breath out in a slow sigh, her arms falling limp at her sides. Finally she could stop being so afraid and panicked. No one would have to worry about her anymore. She would be safe just like everyone wanted.

Jason and Richie could only watch, the former in despair, the latter in red-faced rage.

Charles started to smile when he suddenly whipped his head around to look behind him, past his limo. "Kelly, Lynn, get her in the limo, and hurry!"

The two women locked arms with Melinda and dashed for the limo, Melinda's feet stumbling and dragging. Melinda gave them one shake of her head at the door and tugged her arms in their grip. After a few more whispered words of encouragement from her handlers, she nodded and climbed into the back seat with them.

"Let them go," Charles said to the others. "Fetch the injured ones and get out of here. I already sense the perceptions you molded on the neighborhood starting to wear off."

The rear door of the limo shut with a muffled thunk, Melinda only a vague shadow through the polarized glass. Jason was shoved forward as he was let go, and he caught himself from smashing his face to the pavement. Richie scrambled to his feet when he was released and sent a kick into his retreating assailant's ass, missing by an inch. He found a rock and hurtled it at the woman he had injured as she ran away, still trailing blood on the asphalt.

Jason stood up and shouted, "It's Cassie!"

A second limo pulled up just as Charles climbed inside his. Charles' limo started to back up. Tires screeched as both limos stopped just short of ramming one another.

Richie ran up beside Jason. "Come on, maybe we can get Cassie to chase after those fuckers!" Richie cried, and started running.

"Wait, Richie, something's not right!" Jason called out. "Why is he waiting there when--"

Charles' limo lurched forward in another squeal of rubber. Richie kicked the fender and pounded his fists on the side as it passed. He threw one final kick at the rear fender, glass tinkling from a smashed taillight. He scooped up a rock and hurtled it at the rear windshield, where it bounced off and left a chip in the glass.

"COCKSUCKERS!" Richie screamed.

Jason joined Richie just as Cassie and Heather ran up to them.

"Son of a bitch!" Richie yelled. "Son of a fucking BITCH!"

"They took Melinda, didn't they?" Heather said in a hollow voice.

Cassie gasped when she looked at Jason and Richie. Both were covered in scratches. Richie sported a purple bruise on one cheek and a large tear in one knee of his jeans. She saw a blotch of blood on Richie's jacket and paled.

"We're all right," Jason said. He noticed Cassie's gaze. "It's not his."

"I broke that damn cunt's nose, that's where it's from," Richie snarled. "I hope the doctor uses a rusty needle on her and she fucking dies."

Cassie was too taken aback to speak.

"Can we go after them?" Heather demanded, her voice edging on hysteria. "There has to be something we can do!"

Behind them, Harry climbed out of the limo, moving as if in a dream. He furrowed his brow as he looked around. After a moment's pause, he approached the others.

"We can go after those cocksuckers!" Richie shouted. "What the fuck are we waiting for?!"

The sheer power of the raw emotion from her fellow Harbingers was too much for Cassie to bear, buzzing in her head like a deafening swarm of bees. "Please, please, Richie, calm down," she begged, her voice shaking. "I-I can try. I'll ask Harry if--"

"Miss Kendall?"

Cassie spun around, her hand fluttering to her chest.

"Miss Kendall, shall I take you home now? Did you see what you wanted to see?"

Cassie stared in confusion.

"What the fuck?" Richie exclaimed.

Harry looked at him. His eyes betrayed a hint of disdain, but little else. "You will surely be late for the luncheon, Miss Kendall, but if I get you back now--"

"Harry, don't you see what's happened here?!" Cassie cried.

"I'm sorry?"

Cassie was too stunned to speak.

"My sister was just kidnapped!" Heather shouted.

Harry looked surprised. "Are you quite sure of that? Shouldn't you be contacting the police?"

Now Heather could only stare.

"What the fuck is this?" Richie cried.

Jason sighed and shook his head. He looked down the street where the other limo had gone.

"Young man, watch your language around Miss Kendall," Harry snapped.

"Harry, don't you see anything out of place?" Cassie asked. "Anything at all?"

Harry's eyes slid over the injured boys. His gaze glided over the splotches of blood on the sidewalk. "No, Miss Kendall, everything looks fine."

"And the other limo?"

"Other limo, Miss Kendall?"

"Forget it, Cassie," Jason said. "That's why they paused before leaving. They wanted to focus on him and make him think everything was all right."

Richie turned and stomped away. He kicked a wooden mailbox post, rattling the metal, the door popping open.

"I am quite sure I do not understand what you are talking about, young man," said Harry. "The only limo I know of was one we saw briefly on Green Avenue. Miss Kendall, I must insist we go now. Your mother is likely already rather upset with you."

Cassie turned to the others, her eyes glistening, fighting to hold back tears. "I'm sorry, I have to go," she said in a tiny voice. "I'll try to join you as soon as I can after the luncheon is over."

Jason nodded. No else said a word. Cassie wiped at one eye and headed back to the limo.

"So now what?" Heather demanded, her voice quavering. "I fucking hate this. I have this stupid power to see things that are coming and it still doesn't help!"

Before Jason could say a word, Cassie came running back to them. She shoved a small piece of paper into Jason's hands. "This is the license plate number from the limo," she said, her voice cracking.

"Thanks, Cassie, this will help," Jason said.

Cassie forced a small smile. She turned and headed back just as Harry called for her again in an annoyed voice.

"Richie, is your mother home?" Jason asked.

"Huh? Why?" Richie said.

"I want to clean up and see if I can treat these scratches so my mother doesn't see them when I get home. I'm already in enough trouble."

"My Mom's out fucking her way through the town as usual. So, yeah, sure, come on over."

"Thanks. You can ride on the back of my bike if you want, if I didn't damage it too much."

"Nah, I saw it, it's fine."

"Is that it?" Heather cried. "Is that all you're going to do?"

Jason turned and sighed. "Heather, what the hell more do you want from me? I can't just go tearing out after them until I know who it was that took her and where they are."

Richie frowned and looked around. He wandered away from the others, his gaze sweeping the street and the sidewalk.

Heather forced herself to take a breath and let it go slowly. "Sorry. I know, I just--"

"I want to get her back, too," Jason said. "But if Victor is behind this, he doesn't do anything without a reason. I want to know what it is."

"We really need him to figure that out? He wants to force us to give him the Book!"

Jason said nothing, his eyes cloudy.

Heather stepped up to him. "Use it, Jason. Use the fucking Book. Use it so we can finally do something and protect Melinda."

"Isn't it already too late for that?"

"No, it's not. What I saw in my vision happens after she's been taken. They're ... th-they're practically going to rape her."

Jason rubbed his temples. "It's not rape, Heather, not like the way they'll do it."

"It was never like this, with a bunch of adults drooling over her like she was some kind of sex doll!" Heather yelled.

"All right, I get the point! Let me at least get cleaned up and we'll see what we can do. Richie, let's ... Richie?"

"Yeah, just a sec, 'kay?" Richie called out. He bent down and snatched up his baseball. On one side it had retained the char marks from where it had struck the box during the Rite. Now the other side bore a splotch of drying blood.

Richie brought the ball to the sleeve of his jacket. He reconsidered and dropped it into his pocket as it was. He jogged back to Jason. "Okay, let's go."

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