The effort is minimal this time. Cassie sees the door before her, opens it, and she is there.

And now she can see more "there" than last time. The little room that Gina created now has a window overlooking a scene of idyllic winter beauty. The pure white snow gleams, as if possessing an inner glow of its own. The road is majestic, wide and pristine, stretching forth into a distant horizon of radiance.

Yet it is a window only. No door exists to this wondrous wintry world. And now the door to the interior of the house -- or rather, to the part of Gina's mind still usurped by Victor -- now sports a large padlock.

"I had to keep him out," Gina says. Her voice is less anxious, her eyes less wild. She does not wring her hands. "I may have pushed it too far earlier, but I think I'm okay now."

Cassie looks out the window again. She wonders if Gina understands the symbolism of all this white. Is she trying to recapture a lost purity or innocence? Or possibly manufacture one that she never had?

"I can see it," Gina says, urgency creeping into her voice as if in demand of acknowledgement. "I can't reach it yet, but it's there."

Cassie draws closer to the window and squints into the distance. "This is strange. I can't see anything in all the white, but I feel like something should be there."

Gina comes alongside her. Cassie can sense Gina is trembling even across the space between them. "I know," Gina says in a very low voice. "Maybe ... maybe it's Stephanie."

Cassie turns away from the window and is struck by the intensity of Gina's eyes. "I don't think so, Gina."

"But she helped me before. She ... she fought it. She ..."

Her words trail off, eyes shimmering. Cassie realizes she is radiating her doubt like a beacon, but there is some truth to Gina's words. "Yes, she did, in ... in a way."

Cassie tries not to think about Stephanie's horrible fate, but her thoughts seem linked to Gina's emotions. Gina shrinks back and shivers as if cold.

"Gina, Stephanie did stop him from taking her as a slave, but ... but she couldn't--"

Gina shakes her head. Fear shimmers in her eyes again.

Cassie squeezes Gina's hand and looks into her glistening eyes. "She didn't have anyone helping her. You do."

Gina takes a breath, and it catches as she lets it go. "It's not enough. Victor almost caught me. I almost lost all of this. I had to shut him out."

Cassie squeezes her hand again. "Gina, listen to me--"

"Less than a day! I have less than a day before--!"

"Gina, stop it. You don't understand what resources I can call on. It's just that we have to wait until Halloween night."

"But only a day! I still don't know what or who I am, or what I should be if I'm free of Victor."

"My friends and I may be able to help you with that," says Cassie, but she holds little confidence in her own words. She realizes now that to someone that has been held in restraints all her life, freedom could be every bit as paralyzing as imprisonment.

"I need Stephanie," Gina says.

Cassie tilts her head. "I don't understand."

"I'm connected to her somehow. It's ... it's almost like maybe she was someone that I could have been."

Cassie is unwilling to reveal her initial thoughts. The Stephanie she had met in school had struck her as a bit shallow, but she wonders if that was only after Victor's influence took hold. "I think it is more that you admire her spirit," Cassie finally says.

"You still don't understand!" Gina cries. "I'm still an empty shell. Victor is giving me purpose."

"Being a slave is not--"

"Let me finish! I don't want his purpose. But what do I have to pit against it? I'm fighting myself as much as Victor. How can I offer nothing in exchange for something?"

Cassie nods slowly, and she is at a loss for a response. She sees the problem: with no personal will or ambition, freedom would be more terrifying than slavery.

"That's what's out there," Gina says, turning towards the window. "The road leads to the old cemetery at the other end where I first met her. I was only a few fleeting thoughts and doubts until I met her, then I became this."

"I understand what you're saying, Gina, but what I don't know is what you expect from her."

Gina is silent for a long moment, then asks the question that Cassie has been dreading. "What happened to her? I stopped seeing her just before you showed up."

"She ... she fought him but ... but she's a prisoner in her own mind."

Gina spins around, eyes wide and staring.

"He was never able to take her as a slave, but he managed to keep her quiet. Stephanie sits in ... i-in a horrible little cage with Victor still--"

"She's just like me!"

Cassie falls silent.

"Don't you get it? We're both trapped. We're both prisoners inside ourselves. But she has a life. She has something to go back to if she ever gets free. I don't. If ... if I could link to her somehow ... if I could get Gina's mind to see what her life could be like--"

Cassie nods. "Yes, I understand! But ... oh, Gina, you don't know what you're asking! She's literally locked inside her head. I'm not sure anyone could break her out now."

Gina grasps Cassie's hands and squeezes until the fingers tingle. "Please, I need her. I-I'm begging you, please."

Cassie's eyes blur, and she blinks away the tears that threaten to form. "I'll try. I'll really try."

Gina smiles. Tears flood Cassie's eyes and stream down her cheeks. She hugs Gina before retreating through the door.

Cassie once more stands in the pastel kaleidescope that is the Dreamverse. She hears the soft, enticing whispers of people's thoughts and memories that she has attracted to herself by her mere presence. She longs for the days when she was only a passive receiver of their tiny slices of life and could ponder them as no more than an exercise of creative thought.

She is not sure where to begin. Would it be that simple? Could she just will the door to Stephanie's psyche into existence?

Cassie gasps and stumbles back as a door materializes out of the ether.

She stares in rapt amazement, then increasing trepidation. The door is of iron, thick rivets marching along its frame and slashes of rust stretching like wounds across its dully gleaming surface. She touches the door and shivers at the chill. She steels herself and pushes the door open, and is astonished to see Stephanie's cage.

From the inside.

Stephanie is curled up on the floor, shivering and moaning. The realm past the bars is utterly black, darker than Cassie ever remembered it, as if the cage is suspended in a void, infinitely far from everything.

Cassie steps through, and her skin becomes clammy and cold. Stephanie lifts her head, then cries out. She scrambles to the edge of the cage, her eyes cold with fear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Cassie says in a quavering voice.

"You shouldn't have come here again!" Stephanie cries. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. "My God ... how did you ... h-how did you open it inside--?"

Cassie lays a hand over her racing heart. "You mean you don't know how I can do this?"

Stephanie rises and shakes her head, eyes wide.

"Stephanie, does this mean I can free you? I can do this with Gina, too, and I can feed her power through it. If I could do the same with you ..."

Stephanie shakes her head violently. "No, please don't, don't try it. Oh God, Cassie, don't mess this up! Don't make some stupid rescue attempt on me! I can't get out of this cage no matter what anyone tries."

"Gina says she needs you."

Stephanie does not respond. She turns away and stares out into the black.

Cassie's eyes mist. "She says she needs to connect with you. Stephanie, she's been BRED to be a slave. She virtually has no life she can call her own."

Stephanie collapses against the bars of the cage. Cassie rushes forward but cannot stop Stephanie from sinking to the floor. "Oh God, I had h-hoped I was w-wrong," Stephanie whimpers.

"What?"

Stephanie closes her eyes and grips the bars until her knuckles turn white. "Stuff I heard from Charles ... s-sometimes from Victor ... I-I guess I knew all along. Somehow I knew. But this is just beyond ... I c-can't ..."

Cassie's eyes dart with frantic urgency, searching for anything that could help, not just in her own mind but in her surroundings as well. She looks into the void again and shudders. If Stephanie could open her cage, would she plunge into an unending abyss? Has she been so separated from the rest of her mind that there was no hope of reuniting with it?

Finally, her eyes fall on the door. "Stephanie, could you come through the door with me?"

Stephanie looks up. Her eyes dart from the door back to Cassie and shivers. She swallows and shakes her head.

"Are you sure? Maybe that's why I can open doors past Victor's control!"

"Cassie, you're not thinking!" Stephanie wails. "I-I'm still everything that I was. Everything out there is just a shell. If I leave, it's like ripping the soul from someone's body!"

A wave of nausea sickens Cassie as she recalls the Rite of Power and how horribly empty Heather and Diane appeared when Melissa stole their spirits from their bodies. She feels ashamed for even considering the idea.

Stephanie touches Cassie's arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you so upset."

Cassie waits for her tears to stop. She sniffles once and wipes her face. "It's okay. Y-You're right, I wasn't thinking. But surely there's something we can do? Gina needs something to hold on to or it will be impossible to free her and keep her free."

Stephanie looks lost, and it tears at Cassie's heart. Stephanie raises her eyes to the door again. "Cassie, I'm still trying to understand. You're using this power as easily as breathing. I don't think I could've ever developed it like this even if Victor had never bothered with me."

Cassie cannot help feel a small degree of pride. "So you can't open doors like this?"

"No, not at all, not even before I gave most of my power to you. Look how hard it was to get through to you just in your dreams every year."

Cassie sighs and nods. "If I gave you some energy--"

"And do what? I can't leave here."

"But if you could connect to Gina somehow, and just reassure her."

"I don't know if I can, Cassie!" Stephanie cries.

"Please try," Cassie begs, her eyes tearing again. She hates herself. Stephanie has been through too much. She does not deserve to have more demands placed upon her. "Please. My friends and I will be performing ... um ... will be doing something to tap into the power of the lines. I can give you some of that energy. Then you can try to contact Gina."

Stephanie sighs and whimpers. "I-I'll try," she says in a very tiny voice.

Cassie sniffles again and wipes her eyes. "Thank you." She retreats to the door. "Stephanie, you say you can't come through the door. How did you send your Presence through the lines?"

"I can open a portal into the line energy," Stephanie explains. "You probably can, too. You just have to remember to leave it open behind you when you project yourself. You can't close it behind you, ever, or you lose that piece of yourself forever."

Cassie nods. "You were the one that saved me last night, weren't you?"

"Yes. I sensed you were too close to Melinda's psyche. You would've been enslaved by the cult if you entered."

Cassie shudders.

"Be more careful, Cassie, please. You can't get into the head of someone that's been enslaved unless you already know of someplace safe to link to."

Cassie feels foolish for failing to figure that out herself, as now it is obvious. "I will. I wish there was more I could do for you."

"Just stop Victor, that's all I care about anymore."

Cassie forces herself to leave, closing the door behind her.

Milky sunlight streaked the table near the edge of Charles' plate. He speared a piece of sausage and looked up at the frosted window, a slow sigh passing through his nose. One more day and for another year his exposure to the cult would be limited to his immediate staff.

He was about to pop the piece of sausage in his mouth when one of his maids appeared at the far end of the room, her heels clicking against the floor. He set down his fork and steeled himself. "Well? Now what?"

The maid stopped and curtsied. "Lydia is doing fine, um, sir," said the maid. He had instructed the staff to stop calling him "Prophet" a day earlier than normal. "I am told she slept the night without incident save for a bit of restlessness towards dawn."

Charles nodded. "Thank you."

"The Glorious One suggested keeping her engaged today."

Charles suppressed a frown at the euphemism for using her as a sex toy. The fact that as recently as a few days ago he would have been happy to oblige such a request was not lost on him.

Victor's covert "suggestions" to his staff was something else he would not miss. "Very well," said Charles in a tight voice.

The maid curtsied again and left. He raised the fork once more, but movement behind him made him pause.

"Prophet, a word with you, please."

Charles ate the bit of sausage and let the fork clatter to the plate. He tossed his napkin atop the remainder of his meal and rose, gesturing to the butler, who rushed to remove the plate. He turned and saw Kelly and Lynn standing in the doorway just on the other side of the threshold.

"What is it?" Charles said in irritation. "Yet another directive from Victor that I am not privy to?"

Kelly and Lynn exchanged a concerned look at their Prophet's inappropriate form of address for their divine leader, but Kelly recovered and said, "Yes, Prophet, the Glorious One has communed with me.

You mean he had his damned avatar tweak your mind, Charles thought. "Yes, yes, go ahead."

"He wishes to dispatch us to Haven High School immediately, before classes begin today, along with a few more of our brethren."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The evil that possessed our slave resides in that school. He wishes help in keeping it under control so it will not jeopardize the ceremony tonight."

"This ... this is simply too much!" Charles declared. "I cannot believe Victor would be so stu--"

Lynn gasped, eyes wide. Kelly gave Charles an obvious but calm look of disapproval.

Charles wiped his face with his hand, his heart thumping. He looked at Kelly's eyes and saw little more than a dedicated fundamentalist. He was sure she would be "communing" his near "blasphemy" to Victor at the earliest opportunity. "What I meant to say is that I do not believe the Glorious One is considering all the implications of such an action."

"Perhaps you may have the privilege to question him on the matter, Prophet, but we have no such luxury," said Kelly, her eyes fixed and cool. "We can only follow or not follow his directives. If we do not, he will demand to know why."

"I know that! I will not stop you. Go do as he bids you. If I have anything further to say on the matter, I will say it to the Glorious One. Go."

Kelly and Lynn bowed their heads and left.

Charles clenched his jaw. He exited down another hallway and entered his private office, closing the door behind him. He fished a key from his pocket and fell into the chair behind the desk. Moving with a quiet urgency, he unlocked the bottom drawer and opened it.

He peered inside. A large satchel holding personal papers filled most of the space. Towards the back lay a 357 magnum, his last-resort option in case of criminal intrusion. Squeezed between the satchel and the side of the drawer was an old-fashioned glass and a crystal flask filled with deep amber-brown liquor.

Charles took out his cell phone and speed-dialed as he unloaded the glass and the flask to the top of the desk.

"Marge, this is Charles." He pulled the stopper from the crystal flask and poured a finger's worth of scotch into his glass. "I want you to arrange for a flight for me. Out of the country."

He brought the glass to his lips and downed the contents in one go. He coughed once.

"Anywhere. Pick someplace where I have some holdings. Make sure it leaves very early tomorrow morning."

He banged the glass to the top of the desk.

"I don't care about the short notice, just find me a damn flight!" He snapped the cell phone closed and splashed more liquor into his glass. He took it in hand and stood, peering into the liquid as he swirled it around.

He hoped he didn't need it, that all his worries were unfounded. But if Victor finally did make another mistake, one bigger than twenty-one years ago, Charles wanted to be nowhere near Haven during the fallout.

Jason sat on the edge of his bed staring at the Book as it lay on the floor between his feet. He told himself that his hesitation was his indecision over whether to leave the Book or take it with him, and not the vain hope that his parents would stop fighting downstairs before he had to pass by them.

He looked at the clock. He could not wait more than a few more minutes if he did not want to miss the school bus. By now his mother should have shouted for him to come downstairs.

Jason finally kicked the Book under the bed with the back of his heel. The fight had not diminished; his mother was still at full volume. He did not dare ask her for permission to stay out most of the day after school.

He had the notion that perhaps Victor had manipulated his parents into combativeness just to thwart him. That was easier to accept than a failing marriage. Suddenly the argument did break off, followed by his mother's stomping footsteps, and then a yell: "Jason, get down here!"

Jason was on his feet before the last syllable hit his ears. He scooped up his book-bag, fumbled with his shirt to ensure the pendant was still hidden, and burst out of his room.

His mother was livid. Just past the foot of the stairs, his father stood with his arms folded, tense but impassive. Jason remained as calm and as respectful as he could manage. "Yes, Mom?"

His mother did not reply at first. Her hard gaze snapped back to Henry for a moment, and Jason was sure she was about to scream or cry. Instead, she let out a frustrated sigh and glared at Jason. "Your father seems to believe that you would want to spend the entire day with your friends after school because it's Halloween."

Jason had steeled himself for anything, but this was beyond his most extreme notions. He looked at his father in a moment of confusion and surprise.

His mother whirled back around to face her husband before Jason could recover. "Now you see? He thinks the idea is just as insane as I did! Halloween is the last holiday that Jason would ever--"

"How about letting Jason speak for himself, Audrey," Henry snapped. "Instead of putting words in his mouth."

Audrey clenched her teeth, but turned back to her son, her eyes full of accusation. "Well, Jason? Do you insist on staying out all day even though it seems like I haven't seen you in--"

"Audrey!"

"Just shut up, Henry! I've had enough of--!"

"Yes, Mom," Jason heard himself say.

His mother stared at Jason as if he had grown a third eye.

Jason swallowed and fought to keep his voice steady. "I actually would like to stay out with my friends, if that's okay."

"It is most certainly not okay!" Audrey said. "But your father is insistent on it."

That was the second time his mother had used the words as an epithet.

"All I am saying is that he needs a little more freedom," said Henry. "Stop blowing it up into more than it is."

"But this is not like him! Jason, when did you ever have any interest in Halloween?"

"Before I had this many friends to spend it with."

Audrey's mouth opened, then snapped shut without a sound.

Jason felt more at ease. He had not lied. Only Richie and (very peripherally) Melinda had been his friends the year before.

His mother averted her eyes and fidgeted.

"You know, having more friends can be a good thing," Henry said, sarcasm edging his voice.

Audrey's eyes blazed at him. "Stop implying that I ever said I didn't want Jason to have more friends. I will not have you twisting my words again."

"All right, fine, but you seemed to have trouble believing that Jason could--"

"And stop making me look bad in front of him, damn you!"

Jason's throat went dry. Each time he thought he could not see his mother more upset, she surprised him in the worst way.

Audrey covered her eyes with her hand, then slid her other hand through her disheveled hair. "Is it permitted for me to at least be concerned about the kind of friends he has?"

"I have confidence in Jason's ability to tell the difference between a good friend and a bad one."

"Good friends would not have led him to some deserted picnic area in the dead of night for only God knows what reason!"

"We've been over that again and again, Audrey."

Jason felt the need to defend himself. "Mom, I'm not planning on going anywhere outside of Haven. What happened last month was unusual, and I've already told my friends not to expect me to go gallivanting off like that."

Audrey sighed. "Is it too much to ask for you to be home for dinner? When does the party start at the school?"

"Six, Mom, but some of my friends volunteered to help with preparations and have to be there early."

"That figures."

"I'm really sorry this has upset you, Mom. That was never my intention."

Jason hoped he sounded mature. That always softened her a bit. Some of the anger did drain from her face if not quite her eyes. Now he had another technique he could try.

"Mom, if you're worried about my friends doing anything bad, like egging houses or something like that--"

"No, of course not, Jason! I know -- or at least I would hope -- you have more sense than to get involved with people like that. Though you are still friends with that Gardner boy."

"He doesn't do stuff like that. He ..." Jason glanced past his mother and looked at the clock over the mantel. "Oh, jeez, the time, I have to get going!"

Audrey turned and gasped. "Oh dear ... Yes, Jason, hurry or you'll miss the bus!" She hustled him towards the door. "Please call me some time during the afternoon to let me know you're okay."

"I have to stop back here to drop off my books first after school anyway."

"Call me again later on before the party starts. Just indulge your mother for once."

"No problem, Mom." He exchanged a hug with her and rushed out the door. He at least got to see his mother try to smile.

Jason dashed down the street to meet the bus that had just pulled towards the curb. At least I hope Richie doesn't do stuff like that anymore, Jason thought.

Richie was ready for school. He had his books packed and ready to go. He was even early, a good twenty minutes before the school bus would come around his house. He had plenty of extra time to canvass the neighborhood for choice targets for his once-a-year vandalism spree, completing his rounds with a final trip to the market for the eggs that he would hide in the garage just before the bus arrived.

This year, however, he doubted he would have time for it since he had to fuck his mother before he left.

He shucked off his clothes and threw himself on the bed. At first he thought he would have the excuse that he wasn't very erect, but that changed the moment Sandra climbed over him. His cock sprang to attention, and she was soon poised with her wet pussy hovering above his pulsing member.

Sandra reached down to guide his cock inside her. His hand suddenly shot out and kept it covered from her grasp. She gave him an imploring look. "What's wrong, Richie?"

Richie stared hard at his mother's eyes, doing his best to ignore her breasts swaying under her, the nipples almost brushing his chest. "I want the fucking baseball back."

"I told you, you'll get it back soon. Now, come on, it's not that long until the bus--"

He clamped his hand harder over his cock. "I want it tonight for the party."

Sandra gave him a sad and desperate look. "I don't know if I can do that."

"I need it for my goddamn costume!"

"But Richie, I need you. I need your cock."

"Fine, whatever! I'll give it to you. But I want the baseball back."

Richie felt her trembling. A quavering sigh passed her lips, her pussy oozing lust. "I-It's getting harder for me to think, Richie. It always does when I'm this horny."

"Then that'll make you decide real fast, huh?"

Richie watched her Aura seethe and guessed this was a losing battle. The Darkness knew it had upset him and wanted to keep him that way, likely with the thought that it threw him off balance. Instead, he welcomed the anger, as it made him more focused.

"I can't promise you anything," Sandra said. "Please, I really can't."

Richie said nothing. His hand remained where it was. Sandra whimpered and leaned forward. Her breasts brushed his chest, the flesh warm and supple, the nipples hard. "The Darkness will punish me," she said in a haunted whisper. "It will never let me cum. I'll go insane."

Richie's hand twitched. His cock still pulsed with obscene need. Anger! Rage! Be mad at it! Be mad at her!

He wanted to say what he was thinking. The Darkness would not let her go insane, as she was too useful. After screwing with Heather's mind, it had less power available to it.

And his mother was the only way that the Darkness could strike at him. "You want to fuck, I want the baseball."

Sandra's eyes became wet. "I'll try," she croaked.

Richie let out a slow breath and withdrew his hand when a tear trickled down her cheek. Sandra groped for his cock, her hand shaking so much that she had to try twice before she could point it at her pussy. She let out a gushing sigh as she impaled herself upon it, her hips sagging into him as she buried him inside her.

Sandra humped, her mound slapping hard against his body. To Richie she looked like some big-titted porn star coming down on her partner with over-the-top fake enthusiasm. Yet Richie sensed it was real. She was that desperate, willing to fuck her own son than to go without.

Richie grabbed Sandra's breasts and kneading them in his fingers, enjoying the feel of the plump and warm flesh. He lifted them just to feel their heft. He wondered with some amusement how women like her managed not to fall over when they walked.

Yeah, that's right, I'm enjoying it, Richie thought, hoping the Darkness would hear him. And not because you want me to. And I STILL don't want to enslave her, you motherfucker.

He snorted, the best he could do to suppress a laugh at his poor choice of expletive.

When he sensed his mother approaching climax, he pumped his hips, pounding his cock into her until they both appeared as if acting out a scene in a porno flick. She gasped and moaned, her pussy throbbing around his cock. The sides of her cunt spasmed against his member, spiking his own pleasure but not quite sending him over the top.

He grabbed her hips and yanked her down. Sandra lost her balance and fell forward, catching herself with her hands on either side of Richie's shoulders. She panted hard as she was forced to let him set the pace, her moans reaching another crescendo and cascading into a tremulous cry as she throbbed in a second orgasm. Richie finally went over the edge and pulled her down again, burying himself and throbbing deep inside her tight cunt.

"Oh God, Richie," Sandra moaned. "Oh God, yes ... that's so nice ..."

Richie looked into her eyes, but he couldn't tell if she were sincere or if the Darkness were making her say it. He wanted to believe the former, and her Aura's agitation let him believe it.

"I gotta get to school, Mom," Richie said as he pushed her back. He rolled away and jumped off the bed as soon as his cock had slipped out of her.

"Can you come back home this afternoon after school, Richie?" Sandra asked as she sat up.

"No dice, Mom, I got plans."

"But I can give you more of this."

Richie pulled on his briefs and jeans. "I said I got plans."

"And I have the baseball."

Richie glared at her. "Don't weasel out on me. Don't you fucking dare."

"I don't mean it that way, I just--"

"You said you'd try, and I believed you. Don't fuck with my trust."

Something of the real Sandra appeared in her eyes for a moment, a mix of anger and guilt.

Richie sighed as he pulled on his shirt. "Okay, Mom, I've fucking had it. I'm gonna come home here before the party. You wanna give me the ball, you give it to me. If you don't, then fuck it, fuck you, and fuck the Darkness!"

With his shirt still half undone, he snatched his book-bag by its strap and barreled out of the room.

Heather stood naked by the dresser, staring into her underwear drawer for nearly five minutes. Her faint Aura swirled faster, as if growing impatient. When her hand finally reached into the drawer, it was aimed towards the plain white panties. She was distracted enough that she could almost ignore the annoying little push from the recess of her mind that her Principal had claimed.

Almost.

She picked up the pink panties with the frilly edges and stretchy crotch instead. She felt no different at first after slipping them on, her thoughts still pulled towards her waking dream as she grabbed the matching bra.

Her recurring vision had replayed itself earlier that morning. Someone or something was clawing at the Book and trying to tear it out of Victor's hands. He had nearly lost his grip several times, all the while demanding that it obey him because he had the pendant.

And yet his mysterious assailant remained invisible to her.

She turned away from the dresser with the bra in place. A small shiver passed through her, and pleasant warmth oozed over her skin like warm oil. She took a slow, deep breath. Her Aura slithered about her crotch and breasts, setting off sparks of tantalizing desire.

Heather resisted the urge to strut before the mirror. She grabbed her jeans just as Melinda emerged from the bathroom and regarded her big sister with a wrinkle of her nose and a frown. "You still not dressed yet?"

Heather said nothing. She slid into her jeans and trembled when it tugged her panties against her sex.

Melinda trotted to the dresser and gave her sister a more contrite look. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's fine, Melinda," Heather said in a listless monotone. She buttoned her blouse, shivering as the brush of her hands against her pretty pink bra made her feel so sexy. She shook her head, and the feeling retreated.

Melinda was watching Heather. "You're still fighting that, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but at least I can fight it. For now, anyway."

Melinda snatched her clothes from the dresser. "And what about later?"

"I'll worry about that when it happens."

"Ms. Bendon is going to put you in that stupid harem outfit again."

"Yeah, thanks for stating the blindingly obvious." Heather paused, then sighed. "Sorry."

"Just forget it." Melinda yanked on her jeans, cursing when her foot became stuck in one of the pant legs. "After we use the spell, she can't touch you."

"And you think you'll all have enough power to protect me and help Cassie with Gina and keep ... k-keep the Book from Victor?"

Melinda narrowed her eyes as she buttoned the waist of the jeans. "Okay, what's going to go wrong now?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You just now! You sounded like you were announcing a funeral when you mentioned the Book."

Heather frowned and fell to the edge of her bed. "You have a really annoying habit of picking the worst times to be observant, runt."

"You had another vision just before you got up, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and it's still showing me the same fucking thing. Victor gets the Book."

"But that doesn't mean--"

"Every time I had a vision about something, it came true. Look at the one I had about you. Didn't do shit to stop it, did it?"

Melinda shuddered. "Um ... but ... didn't you say there was a part missing?"

"And it's still missing. I keep thinking something else is supposed to happen after what I saw. It's weird, Melinda. There should be someone else there with him, someone he's fighting with for the Book. Everyone else seems to think so, anyway."

Melinda slowly pulled a shirt over her bra and tugged it into place. "Well ... maybe you'll get the rest of it later, when we do the spell at Mrs. Radson's house."

Heather was not at all confident of that, but she admitted nothing. She watched her little sister gather her things for school. "I'm surprised you can even talk about it," she said in a lower voice.

"What?"

"The spell I mean. What you're going to have to do for it."

Melinda rolled her eyes. "Right. I have to go boink someone who's already our slave. Yeah, big traumatic event for me."

"You're going to have to do more than that, Melinda. We all have to fuck each other to build up energy. That's what we did last time."

Melinda slowed as she packed her book-bag "Well ... so what? I haven't had the chance to do it with Jason for a bit."

"You sure you're going to be okay with it after what--"

"Look, get off my back about it, okay? It's over! I'm not going to go whining about something that's already done with."

Heather heard the quaver in her sister's voice. She could see Melinda's hands trembling as they struggled to close the bag. Melinda cursed and gave the bag a vicious punch when it would not close all the way, then yanked the zipper too hard and caught her finger in it. "Ow! Stupid, fucking--!"

"Melinda, you do remember what Jason eventually told us about Mrs. Radson? About her maybe joining in?"

Melinda opened her mouth, her eyes flaring, but closed it again without saying a word. The fire in her eyes dimmed.

One of Heather's eyebrows rose slightly. "Melinda?"

"Huh? What? Stop bugging me about these things, bubblehead." She picked up her book-bag, then let it thump to the floor. "Fuck, you're not even ready. I don't want to go downstairs and be alone with Mom!"

Heather rose and picked up her book-bag from where it had laid the entire weekend beside the bed. She had considered joining Melinda in her marathon homework session the night before, but decided it would hardly make any difference how well they did in their classes that day.

"Big deal if Mrs. Radson wants to join," Melinda said in a softer voice. "Don't know why you're making such a stupid fuss about it. I thought I was supposed to be the whiner around here."

Heather opened her book-bag, did a cursory examination of the contents, and zipped it closed again. "She's got to be almost three times your age, just like at--"

"S-stop it," Melinda said. A tiny shiver wracked her body for just a second. Her voice was a touch husky when she spoke again. "I don't have to do anything with her. Not unless I want to, right?"

"And if you want to?"

"Huh?"

Heather hesitated. "Um, never mind, I--"

"What the hell made you say that?"

Heather shook her head. "It's probably the stupid, sexy underwear I'm wearing making me say things like that." Heather slung her book-bag over her shoulder and grabbed her jacket. "Let's just get out of here."

Melinda grabbed her book-bag and followed.

Seeger arrived at the school for what he believed with as much conviction as his knew his own name would be the last time.

He had no notion of quitting. At this point, it was a matter of principle to continue despite the increasing irritation from his wife. Yet she had been strangely calm that morning and even afforded him a smile. Perhaps she knew and was looking forward to it.

It was still below freezing, the sunlight gauzy as it languished just below a line of feathery crystalline clouds. He picked his way across patches of frozen pavement that edged the faculty parking lot. A welcome rush of warm air enveloped him as he stepped inside the building.

He grumbled at the paper jack-o-lanterns, ghosts, and black cats that festooned the faculty administrative area, twirling in the forced air from the vents where they hung on frayed strings.

He hated Halloween, but not just for what he felt it did to discipline, though that was a large part of it. An especially large part of it. Yet what he loathed about it that year was the unshakable feeling that something was still subtly wrong.

It had to be paranoia. He let himself think far too long on the words of Mr. Gardner and Mr. Weston. And the oddities of the older Miss Sovert. And Terri Hollis. And Laura Bendon. And ...

And ...

Seeger suddenly realized he had been staring at someone for the past minute. A middle-aged woman with a cherubic face under waves of light brown hair sat at a desk, her bright blue eyes engaged in whatever was displayed on her computer monitor.

Two thoughts collided in his head: I've never seen her before; she is very familiar to me.

It was obvious that she was a member of the administrative staff. She would not be here otherwise. Yet he did not recall when she was hired, unless it was a last minute hiring by Laura for which he had not been apprised.

This explanation began to settle into his brain. It fit, and it resolved the conflict, and it gave him somewhere else to divert his attention.

Seeger frowned. A second woman appeared. Slim and blonde, younger and flighty, she skittered into the room from the copy machine, talked with the first woman, then sauntered away.

He had (She was) never seen (very familiar) her before (to him).

He closed his eyes, paused, and opened them again. The blonde returned, walking with crisp, high-heeled steps that clicked on the floor tile. He fixed his attention on her until she again disappeared from view.

She was (He had) very familiar (never seen) to him (her before).

Seeger scowled and stalked to his office. He did not understand why he was wasting his time with trivialities. It was better to just forget about it and focus on more important ...

"Seymour, you're here rather early this morning."

Seeger stopped at the threshold of his office and turned. "As are you, Laura."

Laura smiled as she stepped forward. Seeger risked a glance past her. Marcie was not at her desk. He was happy for that; he had enough strangeness to deal with.

Strangeness? He was not sure why he thought anything was strange. He had simply walked in from the administrative area where the two new women ...

"I hope this is not on account of Halloween," said Laura.

Seeger huffed. "You know as well as I do that the students tend to become rowdy, as if this so-called holiday was invented solely for the purpose of slacking off. Not that many of them need such an excuse."

"I just don't want you troubling yourself too much over it," Laura said. "I have things under control."

Seeger stiffened at the word "control," but was not cognizant of his own reaction. "And the party tonight?"

"The same. I assume you will not be staying for it."

"Oh? And on what do you base this assumption?" Seeger said. When Laura paused, he plowed ahead. "What I mean is, I intend to be here to assist in keeping order."

"No offense, Seymour, but I'm not sure you know how to ease off enough to avoid imposing on the students' fun. Running a tight ship is normally a very good thing, but not so much at a party. We will have more than enough people to keep tabs on things."

Seeger fumed. More secrets! He had the urge to demand what it was she didn't want him to see, but recanted at the last moment. "Which reminds me, Laura, perhaps you can ... " (introduce me to) "... remind me when you hired ..." (without my knowledge) " ... the two ... the ... Kelly ..." (people that I've never seen) " ... and, the blonde, ah, Lynn, yes, that's her name."

Laura stared. Her eyes slid towards the faculty area, then narrowed. "And just what did you say their names were again, Seymour?"

"Names? I am at a bit of a loss, Laura, I ... uh ..."

(never seen)

(very familiar)

"Kelly and Lynn."

Laura folded her arms. Her eyes burned.

"Is something the matter, Laura?" Seeger asked.

"No. Nothing I can't handle. Excuse me." Laura turned and rushed into the hallway.

Seeger frowned and entered his office, closing the door behind him. Only when he turned to hang up his coat did he pause. He stood in complete silence, staring at nothing, as if his mind had been caught in some kind of loop. Slowly, he completed hanging up his coat and sank into his chair.

Something had just happened. Not just around him, but to him. Something that both angered and frightened him.

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