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Subject: {ASSM} Melissa's Rite 14/31 (mf mF MF ff fF fsolo teen inc oral voy mc nc toys humil magic)
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<1st attachment, "Chapter14.txt" begin>

WARNING: This is a work of erotic fiction. It contains depictions of
nudity and graphic sex.

Author: A Strange Geek
Title: Melissa's Rite
Universe: Haven
Summary: The Darkness has found a new ally in Melissa, a 15 year old
girl bent on revenge on those that have wronged her. The others must
stop her before she gains more power and takes control of them all.

Part: 14 of 31
Keywords: mf, mF, MF, ff, fF, fsolo, teen, inc, oral, voy, mc, nc,
toys, humil, magic

Copyright A Strange Geek, 2007

Feedback welcome! Please email me at astraYOURngegeek@comMINDcast.net
( lose YOUR MIND to email me )

Or to send anonymous feedback, use the form at bottom of HTML version:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/A_Strange_Geek/www/novels/MRite/Chapter14.html



---------------

/The veil stands before her as it always did, an indistinct misty haze,
both real and imaginary. She reaches to it, her hand groping, her eyes
straining. She can see them just beyond, dark shadows and vague shapes
moving in the mist./

/She takes a deep breath, her hand trembling as she steps forward. Her
body shivers in her nightgown, her feet cold and clammy against the
ground. She raises both hands now, and the veil seems to push back
against her palms./

/And as before, she pushes and struggles to reach the other side. The
mist curls around her like a sinister fog, sending a chill through her.
The dark shapes become tantalizingly recognizable, as they did each
previous attempt./

/There is a far off sound, very faint. A cry? A laugh? Or .../

/Suddenly the mist becomes like ice, sending a terrible cold through
her. She is unable to move, as if having been frozen solid from the
inside out, accompanied by a horrible sense of falling helplessly
through a void./

/And just as suddenly, the chill is gone, and Cassie is standing in a
bedroom./

/The shock wears off quickly. She is through! She broke through the
veil! And now she watches a scene that is both erotic and macabre at
the same time./

/A girl lies naked on the bed, sprawled out, moaning in helpless,
unsatisfied need. Tears stain her cheeks. She murmurs something. A
plea, in a voice weakened by perhaps hours of begging that falls on
cold, unfeeling ears./

/Cassie recognizes her. It is Susan Radson./

/Between her legs, an adult woman, also naked, lies with her face
buried in Susan's sex. Her face is wet with Susan's moisture and her
own tears. She licks at Susan's folds, her body shivering with intense,
unwanted, unbearable arousal. Her hips writhe, a wet stain on the bed
beneath her sopping pussy./

/A sense of horror comes over Cassie. The woman is Susan's mother./

/"Like being a pussy-slut, Mrs. Radson?"/

/Cassie gasps, eyes wide as she looks across the bed at Melissa. There
is no feeling in her eyes. They are as icy as the mist. Cassie trembles
at the sight of them./

/Debby Radson moans her distress. Cassie can sense she wants to stop
but cannot./

/"This is what you'll be from now on. And just for Susan. You have to
do it at least once every day, don't you? I can make it worse. Far
worse. Or make it so Susan never cums. And if she doesn't, you don't
either."/

/Debby shudders. It is as if she is trying to fight. Cassie wants to
encourage her, but she is afraid. She does not know if Melissa can
sense her presence if she did something other than observe./

/"Stop fighting me!" Melissa cries. "Stop it! You can't win against
me!"/

/Debby shudders again and her ministrations slow. Cassie bites her lip.
Come on, Mrs. Radson. Come on. You can do it./

/Cassie looks up, and for a moment, she is petrified. It is as if a
bright, sinister green eye had locked with hers, its gaze dark and
evil. But then light glints off gold, and she blinks. It is only
Melissa's pendant, its five-pointed star laying against a breast./

/Debby moans in despair, and her face drops to Susan's mound. She licks
with even more abandon than before. Fresh tears leak from her eyes./

/Melissa slowly smiles. It is a cruel smile, cold and wicked. "Bet
you're starting to think about telling me what you know now, huh? Bet
you want to tell me how to find that book."/

/Suddenly, Susan cries out in terrible pleasure. Her body bucks hard as
her pussy spasms and throbs. As if Melissa wished one final
humiliation, Debby mashes her face to Susan's mound, barely able to
breathe as she jerks her head up and down. Susan's cries go on and on,
her orgasm consuming her until she is totally spent and grows still
save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest./

/Debby finally stops and struggles to rise on all fours, her head hung
low as she pants. She mewls and her body quivers. She is hanging just
short of cumming, straining cruelly at the edge./

/Cassie swallows, her heart racing, her stomach twisting./

/"Well?" Melissa says./

/"I can't ... " Debby moans. "I can't ... I won't ..."/

/Cassie holds her breath in the silence that follows. Melissa's face
twists into a deep scowl as she turns away. Debby abruptly cries out,
her eyes closing tightly. She collapses onto her side as her pussy
throbs./

/"It doesn't matter."/

/Cassie yelps as something flies through the air before her. She jumps
back just in time to avoid being struck by a long, tapering object. It
plunges into Susan's pussy with a loud squishing sound./

/Susan screams. The fat dildo in her cunt mercilessly fucks her./

/"Susan ... Susan!" Debby cries, struggling to get up. As soon as she
is on all fours and crawling towards her daughter, a second dildo
spears the air and buries itself in her cunt from behind./

/"Ahhh! ... Nooo! ..." Debby wails as she falls over onto her back./

/"I'll get the information I want," Melissa says. "If not from you,
then from elsewhere. I'm close. Really close. Once I have that book
...."/

/She lifts her eyes. Fear clutches at her heart as Melissa appears to
look directly at her./

/Melissa smiles. " ... once I have it ... I'll make everyone pay ..."/

/Cassie stifles a scream as she stumbles back. She is plunged again
into the icy cold, stealing her breath and freezing her body. She is
falling backwards, everything racing away from her into the mist .../



Cassie jerked awake with a huge gasp, her heart hammering so fast in
her chest she was sure it would burst.

For a few moments, she was petrified, her mind still lodged in a
disorienting limbo between dream and reality. She could still see
Melissa in front of her and hear the horrible sexual torments that
continued to play out behind her. It was as if something had snatched
at her, holding her by a single tenuous yet stubborn tendril to the
dream world.

Like an overstretched rubber band, the tendril snapped, and she crashed
fully back into reality.

Her body jerked again as the paralyzing fear abruptly disappeared. She
felt horribly drained. Now she remembered why she didn't do lucid
dreaming too much. It sometimes put her so far into the dream world
that it was harder to leave.

Cassie slowly sat up. She winced as a dull pain flared at her temples.

/Great, a headache on top of everything else,/ she lamented silently.

Cassie massaged her temples as she stood up. She took a few slow, deep
breaths to try to calm herself. That had been one of the most vivid
dream experiences she had ever had. Only some of the imagery from the
House had come close.

She disappeared into the bathroom. In her view, most rooms in that
house were much larger than they needed to be. But this one she didn't
mind, as it had an alcove where she kept an electric kettle and boxes
of herbal teas. These were the only things that seemed to settle her
whenever she had a particularly disturbing or powerful dream.

She dropped a teabag into the cup and leaned against the door frame
with a sigh as she waited for the water to boil. The revelations from
her dream were only now starting to make sense to her. The more she
thought about them, the more she shivered.

/This is terrible,/ she thought. /Poor Susan. And her mother! Oh
goodness ... and Melissa's other power .../

Cassie swallowed hard. Her dreams were never symbolic. If something
flew through the air under its own power in her dream, it had done so
in reality. The conclusion was inescapable and frightening.

/A telekinetic,/ Cassie thought, an icy chill creeping up her spine.
/If she wasn't powerful enough .../

Cassie poured her tea, sweetened it, and sipped it thoughtfully as she
left the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn't do that
again. Breaking into Melissa's reality had taken too much out of her.

And that pendant, the one that had looked like ...

Cassie looked puzzled. It was as if she had tried to chase down a
thought and it had eluded her. What was she thinking about? The
pendant? She had seen it, but it had not appeared to matter much in the
dream. Melissa didn't do anything with it. It just hung from her neck
like a piece of jewelry would.

She had to tell Jason about this, but later once she was not so shaky.
She quietly finished her tea and set about getting ready for school.



/"GET AWAY FROM ME!"/

/Sarah stood with her back to the desk, one hand grasping the edge to
steady her. She panted and stared wild-eyed at Frank. Frank looked
perplexed, as if he had no understanding of what had just happened./

/"I-I did it ..." Sarah breathed. "I broke free. I'm free. You can't
get me anymore."/

/She glanced down at herself. She hastily put her bra back into
position, covering up her bosom once more./

/Frank sighed and cast a sad look at his wife. He shook his head. "I'm
very disappointed in you, Sarah. Very disappointed."/

/Sarah trembled, wanting to cringe. She drew in a deep breath and let
it go as a ragged sigh. She straightened up, slowly looking more
confident. "No, Frank, you can't do that to me. I'm not your little
plaything anymore, understand?!" she shouted, her hands curling into
fists./

/Frank frowned. "Very well. It doesn't matter. Nothing you say to me
will change anything."/

/"I know what you've been doing, Frank!" Sarah said, baring her teeth
like a vicious animal. "Right under my nose. Right in this house!"/

/"It's all part of my work, Sarah."/

/"That's not work! That's fucking with people's MINDS!"/

/"Don't even pretend to understand my work! You haven't the faintest
clue what it's about. What it's really about."/

/"Oh, I know what it's about, Frank! You think I'm stupid? That poor
woman from Randall. Not only do you fuck with her mind, you fuck her
too!" She folded her arms defiantly. "So how many, Frank? How many did
you hypnotize into being your private little SLUTS?!"/

/Frank sighed. "It's not like that. Sarah, please ... I need you ... if
you would let me explain ..."/

/"Explain? You have nothing to explain to me!" Sarah shouted. "And I
have no reason to listen to you!"/

/"You are my wife!"/

/Sarah's eyes blazed. "I CAN CHANGE THAT!"/

/She snatched at her wedding band and threw it with all her might.
Surprised, Frank lifted his hands to his face. The ring stung as it
bounced off a bone in his wrist. With a sound like a tiny bell, it hit
the hardwood floor and rolled into the open closet. Then came a strange
noise, a hollow sound as it fetched up against the back of the closet
..../



Richie's eyes blinked open.

"/Arrrgggh!/"

He curled his hands into fists, and beat them repeatedly against the
mattress. He turned on his side and beat the pillow with one fist a
dozen times, leaving it a misshapen, lumpy mass of down.

He stared at it for a moment, then swept it off the bed, sending it
into a lamp on his night stand and nearly tipping it over. He wiped his
face with his hand and sat up in bed, drawing his knees to his chest.

This was driving him crazy. Again and again, night after night. It was
almost like those strange waking dreams he had at Linda's place.

/But they were not dreams, they were real .../

Richie looked towards his closet. It appeared rather different from his
dream. In the dream, it had a hinged door. His had a sliding door. In
the dream the room had a bay window. His had a regular window.

The bay window. He remembered that. His mother had the bay window
replaced when it got damaged by a falling branch from a heavy spring
blizzard. He frowned. Was that it? Another weird look into the past?

No, that was stupid. No one can see the past like that. It had to be
something else. Something that made more sense. Maybe he just dreamed
it, and it wasn't real.

But it was real. He knew it. He could not bring himself to think
otherwise. It was not so much belief as instinct.

Richie kicked off the covers and stood up. Jason would know about this.
He always does. Or even Cassie. She's supposed to know about dreams.
Maybe he was getting as wacky as her. He would just ask them ...

Except he couldn't. Not anymore.

"Shit!" Richie exclaimed, stamping his foot.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The images would not
leave him. They replayed in his head. The scene of the ring being
thrown, bouncing, disappearing into the closet, repeated over and over.

"/Get the fuck out of my head!/" he screamed and ran into the bathroom,
slamming the door behind him.

He turned his head and nearly jumped at his own reflection. Still
panting, he stared at himself in the mirror.

He didn't know anymore who it was staring back. It looked like him. It
was the familiar freckled face, tousled sandy hair, and changeable pale
blue eyes that sometimes edged towards green. But it was as if a shell
stood propped up against the sink. He stared at something vacant and
empty.

Anger marred his face. Even that emotion seemed meaningless. He had the
urge to punch out that reflection, to sock the fake Richie on the jaw
and make the real one come back.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I /am/ getting as whacked-out as Cassie."

He tore his eyes away. The images from his dream had faded. As long as
he was not in his room, they didn't plague him. He seriously considered
sleeping on the couch that night.

He sighed. He was alone in the house again. His mother would have
already checked on him if she had been home. He wasn't sure whether to
be grateful or hurt.

Richie thumped the door with his fist and turned to use the shower.



Melinda flounced onto the bus, her hair flying. She smiled at Jason as
she plopped into her customary seat next to him. She snuggled against
him briefly, giving him a half-hug with one arm.

Jason forced a faint smile. He wished he could share Melinda's apparent
good spirits. He looked across the aisle as Heather sat down, looking
more chipper herself. "Um ... so, you two, uh, take care of things?"

"Yeah, we boinked each other," Melinda said.

"Melinda!" Heather hissed and leaned forward. Her eyes flicked back and
forth. "You want everyone in school to know?"

Melinda stuck her tongue out at Heather. "Maybe I don't care anymore."

Heather sighed and rolled her eyes, settling back into her seat.

"Well, even though we're more open about this stuff now, I don't think
we want to advertise it," said Jason. He was making a conscious effort
not to let himself be influenced by Melinda. It helped that he already
had something else weighing heavily on his mind.

"Oh, yeah, and like there aren't others in school boinking each other
more because of everything that happened," said Melinda loftily.

Jason subsided, then thought better of it. "I don't think they want to
bring attention to it either, Melinda."

Before Melinda could reply, Heather cut in. "Where's Richie?"

Jason sighed and jerked his head to one side. Heather and Melinda
craned their necks. Richie was sitting in the rearmost seat, staring
sullenly out the window, as if making a conscious effort not to look
their way.

"What's with him?" asked Heather.

"Maybe Miss Davis wouldn't let her boink him," piped Melinda. "I can
always hope."

"He's out of the Harbingers," said Jason.

Heather stared at him in shock.

Melinda was shocked as well, but recovered swiftly. "About time!"

Jason felt reluctant to contradict Melinda, but the gravity of the act
overcame it. "I didn't like doing it, but he wouldn't let go of Miss
Davis."

Melinda gasped. "He /did/ enslave her again! That fucking perv!"

"No, Melinda, it wasn't quite like that ..."

"Don't tell me it wasn't! I know he ..."

"Melinda," Heather said firmly. "You're doing it again."

Melinda frowned at her. "Huh?"

"What Cassie said yesterday."

"I'm just saying what I feel, that's all."

"I know, Melinda. But just ease off a little and let Jason talk,
please?"

Melinda hesitated. Her instinct was to defy her big sister. It was what
she always did. But it was a little harder to do now. She sighed and
nodded. "Sorry, Jason."

Jason gave Heather a grateful look. "It's complicated. It's like Miss
Davis has a fantasy and Richie is playing it out. But he's not giving
her a chance to decide whether she really wants it or not."

"But he can't keep going around doing it with a teacher," Heather said
in a low voice.

"Right. I know. Miss Davis knows it's wrong as well, but ... like I
said, it's complicated. And it's not the only reason he's out."

"I would have gotten rid of him right after he went to Nyssa on his
own," Melinda grumbled. "He's a traitor. He ... "

"Melinda ..." Heather began in a warning tone.

"Heather, I'm not saying anything Jason hasn't already said to me
before."

"There's no point arguing about it," said Jason. "It's done. Leave it
alone, please."

Heather noticed the pained look on Jason's face even if Melinda had
not. It was obvious that it had hurt Jason to do this. However, Heather
thought it the right thing to do as well. Turning himself over to Nyssa
had been the most horrible thing that Richie had ever done.

"Jason, are we going to meet today after school?" Heather asked. "Since
we checked the place out with Cassie?"

"I really wish you hadn't done that ..."

"Well, we did it. Like you just said about Richie, it's done. Nothing
weird happened to any of us."

"And it's a really cool place!" said Melinda happily. "It's huge!"

"I still want to know who sent us that note," Jason said. "But I guess
if we're going to meet, we might as well do it today. The letter said
don't use it on Thursdays. Today's Wednesday, so if we don't use it
today, we'll have to wait until Friday."

Melinda glanced towards the back of the bus. She caught Richie looking
their way. He jerked his head to the side and stared out the window
again.

She frowned and leaned forward. "And don't tell Richie about it. Don't
tell him where it is or what we're doing."

"Yeah, I have to agree with that, Jason," Heather said. "If he's pissed
at you, you don't want to take the chance of him trying to screw you
over."

Jason wanted to believe that Richie would be above such a thing, but he
honestly did not know. He wanted to agree with them, and struggled for
a moment to convince himself it was what he really wanted and not a
case of parroting what they wanted. He turned his head and looked at
Richie as well.

Holding his gaze on Richie, he finally said, "Yeah, probably better to
be safe than sorry."

Richie could not hear them from the back, but he noticed Jason looking
at him. When he turned his gaze towards his former friend, he saw
Heather and Melinda were looking as well.

For a moment he had the crazy idea that they wanted him back.

But then he saw the disappointed look on Jason's face, the memory of
Jason's harsh words still fresh in his mind. He saw Melinda's accusing
stare and Heather's disdainful one. Richie frowned, flipped his middle
finger at them, and resumed looking out of the window.

"Yeah, fuck you, Richie," Melinda muttered. "I still say good
riddance."

Jason said nothing, giving her only a small nod of his head as he
turned his gaze away from Richie for the last time.



Diane had eaten only a bit of her lunch before she reverted to picking
at it with her fork.

"It started some time this morning, Diane," said Heather. "Just a sense
that something is wrong. That something is going to change."

Diane was anxious to express what was on her own mind, but she knew
this was important. Heather's precog ability was admittedly a mystery
to her, and it was apparent that Heather didn't understand it any
better. "Are any of us in trouble?"

Heather paused a moment, a distant look to her eyes. "It's possible,
but ... I think it's going to me rather than anyone else."

Diane put down her fork. In a nervous voice she asked, "Is it Melissa?"

"Well, there isn't anyone else it could be, is there?"

"What about me? Are you sensing anything about me?"

Heather shook her head. "No, not really. But you know what's really
strange about this, Diane? I've never had something this clear before.
Or this far ahead. I usually get these things only minutes before
something happens. Now I'm sure that whatever this is, it's not going
to happen until tomorrow."

"You better tell the others about this, Heather," Diane said anxiously.
"Please. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm going to tell everyone at the meeting this afternoon."

Diane nodded and averted her eyes. "Um ... How did it go with Melinda
yesterday?"

"Oh, um ... it went rather well, actually."

Heather didn't offer any more than that. A nervous silence fell between
them.

Diane sighed and gave up on her rapidly waning appetite. She looked up.
"Did it make it easier for you to think about ... other things?"

Heather didn't respond for a long moment. Diane looked at her and found
that she had stopped eating as well. Heather reluctantly met Diane's
eyes and said in a quiet voice, "I'm still thinking about it."

Diane breathed in deeply and let it go. It wasn't quite the disaster
she expected. But it wasn't any better than that.

"I really feel bad about this, Diane. I'm not ... I'm not put off by
the idea of a relationship with you. I've pretty much accepted that I'm
bisexual now."

Nevertheless, a blush came to her cheeks. Diane noticed this, but
didn't know what to make of it. "Well, that's better than an outright
'no,' I guess," Diane said, though her tone was a touch morose.

"Well, it is, actually. I just need some more time. I want to have the
same feelings for you, but I'm not sure yet."

Diane nodded. She wished she were more aggressive in matters like this.
If Heather were really open to the idea, and Diane could seduce her,
then ...

No, that was a ridiculous idea. She couldn't see herself doing that.
She would rather play the submissive role, even if she did not call it
that in her own head. Heather had always been the more dominant one in
their friendship. She always followed Heather's lead. Heather had come
up with all the ideas of what they did with their time.

The only exception was Melissa. Diane had conceived of the trick to
play on her, but Heather had run with it once Diane had presented the
idea.

"Diane, I could, well, /do it/ with you," Heather said in a low voice.
"But I think you want more than that."

Diane's sex tingled. She saw herself "doing it" with Heather in her
dreams every night. But Heather was right. She wanted there to be
something else to it.

Diane looked at Heather. For a moment she considered admitting the role
she wanted to play, that of the willing submissive to Heather's
desires. She wondered if that would make any difference. Heather was so
used to having her way, even as much as she had tempered that in recent
months. Would that play to her propensities, and make Heather more
willing to ...

"Yes?" Heather asked.

"Oh, um ... nothing," Diane murmured. She smiled weakly. "Yeah, you're
right, Heather. I'd rather you really want to do it. I'll ... I'll
wait."

"I'll try to sort this out as soon as I can, Diane, I promise."

Diane simply nodded. It was all she could hope for at this point.



The house was still empty when Richie returned home after school.

Richie slammed the front door hard in his frustration. He felt like he
had been alone ever since he got up that morning. He would have
actually welcomed seeing his mother, even if she would only give him
grief.

Or worse: continue to sing praises of his relationship with Miss Linda
Davis.

Richie paused for a moment at the threshold to his room before rushing
inside. At once, the images that had been fuzzy in his head all day
sprang back into stark clarity. The final moments of the dream played
out mercilessly in his head, always ending with the ring and its arc
through the air towards the closet.

Muttering a curse, Richie dumped his backpack by the side of the bed
with a loud thud. He immediately turned to head out. He had an hour
before he had to be at Linda's place, but he had no intention of
spending it in his room.

/With a sound like a tiny bell, it hit the hardwood floor and rolled
into the open closet./

The imagery surged into his head as if it were happening right before
him. Richie stopped and turned his head towards his closet.

/Then came a strange noise, a hollow sound .../

Richie narrowed his eyes. He turned and took a step towards it.

/... as it fetched up against the back of the closet .../

His hand was almost on the handle of the sliding door when he snatched
it back.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He stepped back from the door.

/With a sound like a tiny bell .../

"Stop it!"

/... it hit the hardwood floor and rolled into the open closet .../

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

/... Then came a strange noise, a hollow sound .../

"There's nothing there! This isn't real!"

/... as it fetched up against the back of the closet .../

"/FUCK YOU!/"

/... It hit the hardwood floor and rolled .../

Richie grabbed the handle and flung it aside. There was a sound of
splintering wood as the handle was partially sheared off from the
impact with the other half of the door.

"There's nothing here!" Richie screamed as he started yanking boxes and
old shoes from the bottom of the closet. "Just all this shit! There's
no ring! /There's NO FUCKING RING!/"

But then Richie's gaze was riveted, as now he had seen something he had
never noticed before.

In the back corner of the closet was a black spot, a rectangle about
three inches by one inch. Richie stared at it for a long moment, as if
trying to decide what to do. He finally stepped into the closet and
dropped to his knees.

The spot was a gap in the hardwood flooring. The last plank in the back
had come up three inches short, and no one had bothered to fill the gap
with a smaller piece.

Richie leaned forward and peered into the gap, but it was too dark to
see anything. He poked a finger into it. The gap extended into the
subflooring, his finger touching nothing but empty air at first.
Finally he felt his fingertip just barely brush against something
solid.

He stretched his finger as far as it would go. Whatever it was, it was
loose. But he couldn't push his finger in any further to extract it.

Richie jumped up and ran to his night stand. He yanked open the drawer
and rummaged through the detritus. He eventually produced a small paper
clip.

As he returned to the closet, he bent the clip into a makeshift hook.
He crawled back into the closet and fished the hook into the hole.
After a few failed attempts and muttered curses, there was a faint
metallic sound as he snagged the object. He carefully pulled it out of
the hole, then backed out of the closet and stood up to examine his
prize.

Balanced on the paper clip hook, cobwebs drifting in the air around it,
was a gold ring.

"Holy shit," Richie muttered as he tilted the paper clip and dropped
the ring into his outstretched palm.

His fingers closed around the ring ...

.... and reality changed.

The first thing he was aware of were the sharp, slightly hollow reports
of heels against wood. He looked up, and then jumped back in shock when
a young woman with dark brown hair suddenly crossed in front of his
vision.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you ...?!"

The young woman had stopped by the closet and turned her nervous gaze
towards the bedroom door. She swallowed, her hazel eyes shimmering with
both hurt and fear.

"Wait, you're the woman from my dream!" Richie cried. "You ..."

The woman turned away from him as if he were not even there. She
grabbed the doorknob and yanked the closet door open. Its hinges
squeaked faintly.

"What the fuck? Why's the closet ... why ... holy shit ..."

Richie trailed off to a bare whisper as he stepped back and looked
around his room.

Except it was not quite his room anymore. The bay window was back, and
a large oak desk sat before it. An old Macintosh sat in one corner of
the desk. Or rather, old in model but looking almost brand new, as it
if had rolled off the assembly line only months ago. The bed was
different as well. It had fancy brass bedposts that held up a lacy
canopy. Floral-patterned throw rugs sat on either side. All of Richie's
baseball paraphernalia were absent.

The woman suddenly turned and came right at him, holding a suitcase.
Before he could step aside, she walked right through him, as if she
were a ghost.

/... to get out of here before he sees me ... can't let him try to .../

Richie stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. He felt disoriented,
as if the words he had heard had been injected directly into his head
by a lightning bolt that left him momentarily dazed in its aftermath.
They had stopped the moment she was no longer in contact with him.

He whirled around and stared as the woman -- as Sarah -- slammed the
suitcase upon the bed and opened it. She then proceeded to fill it with
belongings from the closet. As he watched, he caught a glint of
metallic gold. She was wearing a ring, the same one he still clutched
in his hand.

"Hey, lady? Sarah?" Richie called out. "Fuck, you can't hear me, can
you? Goddamn. This is my fucking dream, but ..."

But it was real. And it was real because it had actually happened. And
he was bearing witness to it as if he had somehow stepped back in time
to see it. Just like Mara had done at the House, when she showed them
all how her spirit had come to be imbued within its walls.

Somehow, Richie knew, just as assuredly as he knew his own name.



Jason sat still, his brow furrowed in thought. No one else spoke.

Cassie was relieved to see Jason much more in command. She had
purposely shooed everyone else away from the recliner specifically so
he could have it. Not only would this better isolate him from anyone
that might influence him, she had hoped that the throne-like seat would
encourage his natural leadership role.

Cassie had sat Melinda next to her on the love seat, feeling a little
guilty at having to deny Ned that coveted place. He instead sat at the
far end of the sofa that Heather and Diane shared.

"Cassie, was anything else said about this book?" Jason finally asked.

"I've told you everything that was said in the dream," Cassie replied.
"There was nothing more than that."

"That was enough!" Melinda piped, looking revolted. "Oh my God! I
thought Richie was a total perv, but Melissa is fucking /sick!/ Did you
/have/ to tell us about what she made Susan and her mother do? Eww!"

"Jason deserves to know everything Melissa is doing, Melinda," Cassie
said. "I didn't care for relaying it. Or experiencing it in the first
place."

"Cassie, I really appreciate you doing this for us," Jason said. "I'm
sorry it was so difficult for you."

"It's okay. I'm just not sure I could do it again."

"Well, don't we already have what we need?" Ned declared. "C'mon, it's
as obvious as the schnozz on my face what we do next! Miss Melissa
Voldemort wants this Book of Supreme Ultimate Super-Duper Power, right?
Well, beat her to it!" He slammed a fist into the open palm of his
other hand. "We go find it first and keep it outta her hot little
hands. Simple."

"Oh, yeah, sure, real simple!" Melinda said in a mocking voice. "You
just happen to know where it is, huh?"

"Well, no, I don't. But Susan's mother knows."

"So?"

"So, we go get it outta her, go find the book, and go hide it somewhere
else. Or burn it. Or if ya wanna be real dramatic, go find yerself a
basilisk fang and do that little trick Harry Potter did, only I ain't
cleanin' up the mess afterward."

Melinda rolled her eyes, but Cassie giggled at Ned's joke. Cassie
should have realized that Ned would want to jump into the action. He
hated sitting by the sidelines. He had already bounced back from
Melissa's humiliation of him the day before, and Cassie had to spend
ten minutes earlier that morning convincing him not to try following
her again.

Ned turned to Jason. "So whaddaya say? Yer the head honcho here. We a
go for Operation Keep-Away?"

"Ned, the overall idea is good," Jason said carefully. "Melissa
certainly can't be allowed to get anything that would give her more
power. But we don't know if Susan's mother would even talk to us about
it. Melissa might have prevented her from talking to us in the first
place."

"Yeah, okay, mebbe, but it's worth a try, right? Even if she just slams
the door on us like a buncha encyclopedia salesmen, we can at least say
we tried."

"And if Melissa finds out that we tried to get at this information?"

"Jason, it's not like Melissa could get any more pissed off than she
already is," Heather called out. "And I really don't want her getting
any stronger, not when she's already planning something against me."

Cassie looked at Heather in alarm. "Oh no, did you get a precog,
Heather?"

Heather nodded. "Something like that. It's still vague, but it's better
than any I've ever gotten before. She's going to try something,
probably tomorrow."

"Dammit," Jason muttered.

"If she's going after Heather, she's going to target me soon as well,"
Diane said.

"We won't let anything happen to you two bubbleheads, don't worry,"
Melinda said loftily.

Heather detected the sincerity in Melinda's voice despite the choice of
words. She smiled faintly at her sister. Melinda's lips twitched, and
she gave Heather a sympathetic look in return.

"Even if we talked to Susan's mother this minute, there's no way we
could track down this book before tomorrow unless she knew exactly
where it was," said Jason. He made a face. "Guys, something about this
still really bothers me. First Melinda and Cassie just happened to
overhear Melissa in the hall and now this. It's almost like it's too
easy. Everything falling into place at once."

"But Cassie's dreams are always right! Aren't they, Cassie?"

Cassie looked a bit nervous when all eyes suddenly shifted to her.
"Well, as far as they see what's actually happening, yes," she said
cautiously.

Melinda whipped her head around. "See, Jason?"

"You can't let her have this book!" Diane cried. "Not when she's
already planning something against Heather!"

Heather took Diane's hand and squeezed it gently. Diane paused and took
a deep breath to calm herself. She blushed as she realized how
hysterical she likely sounded to everyone else.

No one else spoke for the next few moments. Several exchanged nervous
glances. More than one pair of eyes weighed on Jason to see what he
would do.

"All right," he finally said, though with obvious reluctance. "Heather,
we'll make sure to stick with you as much as possible tomorrow. You
won't be alone even one moment outside the classrooms, I promise. As
for Susan's mother, we'll talk to her and find out what she knows."

Ned grinned and smacked his fist into his hand again.

"But not now. Not today. Look, hear me out!" Jason said as protest rose
from Melinda and Ned. "From Cassie's dream, Melissa is no closer to
getting what she wants. Susan's mother is being defiant and is not
giving up the information. She's been holding out this long, I think
one more day won't make a difference."

"Susan's mother has some sort of defense," Cassie said. "Susan Radson
is supposedly a practicing Pagan. Her mother might be a Witch or a
Priestess. I got the sense of some sort of energy or power from her."

"So do we go to her place tomorrow, Jason?" Melinda asked.

"Not all of us. I'll go."

"Aww ..." Ned muttered.

"No, Jason, I think I should go," said Cassie.

Ned's head jerked. "Huh?"

"I'm more familiar with her since I saw her in my dream. I have a
better sense for her."

"I'm going with you, babe," Ned said.

"Ned, wait, you ..."

"No, yer not talkin' me outta this. You shouldn't go alone. I can hang
out outside and give ya some sorta warning if I see Melissa coming."

"That's a good idea, Ned," Jason said. "Cassie, can you lend him a cell
phone or something to call you?"

"Yes, I can," said Cassie. She smiled at Ned. "Thank you."

"I want to go with Cassie, too," Diane said, her voice quavering.

Cassie turned her head. "Oh, Diane, you don't ..."

"No, I do. I want to feel like I'm doing something to help."

Cassie looked helplessly at Jason.

"If she really wants to do it, I don't see a reason to tell her no,"
Jason said.

Diane smiled weakly and nodded in appreciation.

"All right, I think that's it for now."

"One more thing, kemosabe," said Ned. "So is what Cassie told me true?
Ya really punted Richie from the group?"

"I had to, Ned," Jason replied. "He went after Miss Davis again. He
just doesn't get what's wrong with the arrangement. I can't trust him
anymore."

Ned just nodded in response.

Jason turned to Cassie. "Please call me tomorrow when you're done with
Susan's mother."

"I will," said Cassie.

"Okay. Let's get out of here."



"Sarah."

Both Sarah and Richie spun around. Sarah's eyes widened.

Standing in the doorway was a young man with a chiseled face that wore
a look of sadness and disappointment. His penetrating slate-gray eyes
were fixed in an unrelenting gaze upon his wife. His black hair was
slicked back, his high forehead giving Richie the impression of a mad
scientist.

Sarah was poised with a pair of slacks in her hands. She trembled as
her eyes were drawn to his.

The man -- Frank -- stepped fully into the room. He said nothing. He
simply kept his gaze locked on Sarah's eyes. His face continued to
radiate disapproval. Richie frowned. He could feel it himself, as if he
had been caught doing something that he shouldn't.

He turned his attention back to Sarah when he heard her whimper.

Sarah was shaking. She bit her lower lip. Richie furrowed his brow in
confusion. He glanced from her to Frank and back again.

/He's trying to control her,/ Richie thought.

Frank took another step towards her. Sarah whimpered again and the
slacks fell from her hands and onto the floor.

Frank relented. He smiled. "Good girl."

Sarah moaned. Where she was trembling with guilt before, now she
quivered with swiftly increasing arousal. Yet she shook her head
violently and swallowed hard. "No," she said weakly, then in a steadier
voice. "No. N-not this time. You ..."

"Unbutton your blouse, Sarah."

"No ... n-no ... " Sarah gasped as her pussy grew hot. Her shaking
hands rose. Each button she undid caused an erotic wave of pleasure to
wash over her. By the time she was done, she was panting heavily.

"Holy ..." Richie muttered, staring in utter fascination and no small
amount of sexual curiosity.

She looked at Frank through errant strands of hair, struggling to
maintain the defiance in her eyes. When he took another step towards
her, she fought to take a step back. It was difficult, but she managed
it.

"Sarah," said Frank gently, holding his eyes to hers.

Sarah again shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his despite
how hard she tried.

Frank reached for her. She shuddered and drew in her breath as a ragged
gasp, managing another half-step back from him. He caught a piece of
her open blouse, pulling it aside to reveal two round tits a lacy bra.

"Oh wow ..." Richie said softly. His nether regions stirred.

"Stop it," Sarah breathed.

"You don't have to do this, Sarah," said Frank, his voice gentle but
commanding.

Sarah trembled. Her hands clenched into fists. "I-I'm not going to
listen to you anymore, Frank," she said, having to force almost every
word from her mouth. "N-no more."

Frank stepped forward again. He opened her blouse and pushed it from
her shoulders. Sarah made a half-hearted attempt to stop it. She
shivered as the blouse fell into a heap on the floor.

She was breathing hard, her bosom swelling against the bra. She
whimpered as he lifted a hand to her, thighs shaking as she stumbled
back, only to fetch up against the desk by the window.

Richie wasn't sure how, but he was sensing some sort of power at work.
He looked at Frank ... really looked at him ... and then his eyes
widened in shock as he finally saw it. The Dark Aura, swirling around
him like a black storm.

"Oh fuck," Richie murmured, taking a step back from the both of them.

Frank's hand alighted on one of Sarah's fleshy orbs. Sarah clenched her
teeth and tried to suppress a moan as he lightly squeezed the warm,
pliant flesh. He hooked a finger under the cup and pulled it up. Sarah
bit her lip and whimpered again as her breast popped out of the cup and
rolled against her chest.

He smiled at her. Sarah made one last attempt to wrench her gaze from
him as his fingers touched the hard, tight nipple, sending a shock wave
of pleasure through her body.

"No ..." Sarah murmured. Her body shook.

Frank massaged Sarah's nipple. Sarah moaned deeply. Her pussy rose and
strained. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought.

"No ..."

Frank lifted his hand to the other breast and kneaded it. He seemed
unconcerned, as if everything were a foregone conclusion. Richie
watched the swirls of Darkness writhe as if in ecstasy. Sarah squirmed
in consuming lust as much as she twisted in rising and desperate
defiance.

Frank smiled. "Now, cum for me, and everything will be ..."

Suddenly, Sarah's fists rose and beat him hard in the chest, pushing
her away from him. She stumbled back until she fetched up hard against
the side of the desk.

"/GET AWAY FROM ME!/"

Sarah grasped the edge of the desk to steady her. She panted and stared
wild-eyed at Frank. Frank looked perplexed, as if he had no
understanding of what had just happened.

"I-I did it ..." Sarah breathed. "I broke free. I'm free. You can't get
me anymore."

Richie's mouth dropped open. She fought it? She actually fought it and
won? But no one can fight the Darkness like that!

Sarah glanced down at herself. She hastily put her bra back into
position, covering up her bosom once more.

Frank sighed and cast a sad look at his wife. He shook his head. "I'm
very disappointed in you, Sarah. Very disappointed."

Sarah trembled, wanting to cringe. She drew in a deep breath and let it
go as a ragged sigh. She straightened up, slowly looking more
confident. "No, Frank, you can't do that to me. /I'm not your little
plaything anymore, understand?!/" she shouted, her hands curling into
fists.

Frank frowned. "Very well. It doesn't matter. Nothing you say to me
will change anything."

"I know what you've been doing, Frank!" Sarah said, baring her teeth
like a vicious animal. "Right under my nose. Right in this house!"

"It's all part of my work, Sarah."

"That's not work! That's fucking with people's /MINDS!/"

"Don't even pretend to understand my work! You haven't the faintest
clue what it's about. What it's /really/ about."

"Oh, I know what it's about, Frank! You think I'm stupid? That poor
woman from Randall. Not only do you fuck with her mind, you fuck her
too!" She folded her arms defiantly. "So how many, Frank? How many did
you hypnotize into being your private little /SLUTS?!/"

Frank sighed. "It's not like that. Sarah, please ... I need you ... if
you would let me explain ..."

"Explain? You have nothing to explain to me!" Sarah shouted. "And I
have no reason to listen to you!"

"You are my wife!"

Sarah's eyes blazed. "/I CAN CHANGE THAT!/"

She snatched at her wedding band and threw it with all her might.
Surprised, Frank lifted his hands to his face. The ring stung as it
bounced off a bone in his wrist. With a sound like a tiny bell, it hit
the hardwood floor and rolled into the open closet. Then came a strange
noise, a hollow sound as it fetched up against the back of the closet
....

And then they were gone.

Richie blinked rapidly. He was in his room once again, alone, staring
into an open closet with a broken handle, his hand closed around a
dusty old ring.

And the voices in his head from his dream finally fell silent.
<1st attachment end>


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