Cassie stands before the opening with far more trepidation than she experienced the night before. Her mind spins with questions. Does this really lead through the mesa? Why is the dreamverse insisting on this imagery? Even the vision of the doorways to other minds is optional; her Dream Gift would often simply shift her from mind to mind without any visible corridor or landscape between them.

She had hoped the first time had been simply a rite of passage. Yet no matter what she does, she cannot will herself directly into the line. She must go this route.

She takes a breath and steps into the pit, and is swallowed up by the pale blue expanse. She braces herself for the cavalcade of emotions she had experienced upon her return last time, but she feels nothing more than vague curiosity. She sweeps her gaze around her, trying to see whatever had surrounded her last time. All she can discern are blurry shapes in the distance, little more than discolorations which flow towards each other, as if gathering.

She has the intense feeling of being observed, as if there are minds focused upon her which are somehow just barely past the threshold of her empathic sense. Before she can reach out to them, she is through.

Cassie lets out her breath and again feels the thrill of unfettered flight. She glides forward, pausing once more beside the odd ring of discoloration. She wishes she knew what it is. She feels she should know.

She glides on, and her worries are lost in the sheer joy of the experience. She spreads her arms and legs, and she feels the energy flow around her hands and feet like water in a gentle stream. She turns slowly in place as she continues forward, letting her ethereal body be enveloped by the flow. She reaches a hand towards a crackle of white skittering along the edge of the corridor, and her skin tingles.

She senses the greenbelt above her, and she wills herself to materialize. She enjoys a stroll through the pine trees until she is yanked back into the line. Did she manifest a little longer this time? Is this something she could practice? How much can she interact with the real world?

Her questions are overshadowed by rising trepidation as she spots the inky blackness in the distance. She wills herself to stop, her heart pounding as she remembers how she had almost been swept into it last time.

She doubts it had intentionally attacked her. More likely it had tapped energy from the line, and she was simply swept up like a tree branch in a rushing river current. She looks behind her, and for a moment she sees a shimmering line, like a silvery rope, stretching off into the distance.

She eases forward. The dark looms closer, yet remains strangely quiescent. Is it asleep? Does it even need to sleep? To her right, the adjacent line of force fades into view, as if emerging from a fog. Its energies appear undisturbed.

Cassie trembles and pauses. She can discern the individual tendrils of the Darkness' Aura, slithering about its protected space, obscuring its mistress. She had never witnessed a manifestation of the Darkness. Jason had told her it looked vaguely feminine, like a glowing white figure swaddled in an inky black cloak.

She eases forward, tensed, her eyes darting between the writhing dark cocoon in the node and the adjacent line. She has a burning need to see the line beyond it, the one which lay under the House. She is sure she is at the place she saw it last time, but it is not yet visible.

Cassie swallows and gazes upon the Dark domain. It seems to have taken no notice of her. Can she rely on that? What is driving her to move closer? Had the Darkness already infiltrated her psyche and is now coaxing her forward, like a predator lying in wait for its prey? She glances behind her; the tether is growing taut.

Cassie cannot turn back. Something is not letting her. She does not know what, and it frightens her.

She presses on, and at once she shivers violently and wraps her arms around herself. Her skin prickles, and her nipples become two hard knobs pressed against the thin nightgown. She turns her head, and suddenly no longer notices the icy chill.

The line she is looking for is there, as it had been all along. She could not see it because its once pristine blue-white energies have been corrupted into purple-black. She stares until she discerns slim tendrils winding down the length of the line which pulse and swell like the blood vessels of some Lovecraftian horror.

Something else is wrong. She does not see it but senses it, as if the act of Projection has given her an insight beyond her normal perceptions. When it falls into place in her mind, her eyes widen, and she draws in a gasp which she lets go in shaky, strained words, "M-my God, the line's moved ... and it's ..."

The lines suddenly wink out of her perception, and the Darkness hurtles into the distance. She is drawn backwards so fast she feels she cannot breathe, despite having no need for such things in this form. She is drawn up through the mesa, and emotions explode into her consciousness again. Danger. Warning. Worry. Fear.

The shapes she had seen earlier become distorted faces spinning around her, murmuring words she does not understand yet has heard before. She can make little sense of them before she is slammed back into her body.

Cassie bolted upright, only to nearly fall onto her back again when the room spun around her for a moment. Once the sensation passed, she jumped out of bed as if afraid she would somehow be sucked back into the dreamverse again.

She stood by the bed, panting as if having just run up the stairs, still shivering from her brush with the edge of the Darkness' inner domain. She placed a trembling hand against her cheek and closed her eyes, only to gasp and open them again when the terrible sight of the corrupted line energies leapt into her mind.

She rushed into the bathroom and turned on the light, blinking at the sudden glare. She stared at herself in the mirror, then looked down. Wasn't it Melinda who said you could see your own Aura if you were affected by the Darkness? She dearly hoped that was true.

Cassie turned away and stepped back into her bedroom. Outside her window, night was giving way to pre-dawn twilight. She rubbed her eyes and sat down on the edge of her bed, running a hand through her disheveled curls.

She gave up any hope of getting more sleep. Closing her eyes would just bring back the imagery again, and she would never feel warm. She stared at the cell phone on her night table as her thoughts turned to the memory of the phone call to Jason the day before.

She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. The line had moved. The same question whipped through her head as it had for Debby Radson: how was that even possible without the Book?

She snatched up the cell phone and leapt to her feet. She was a second away from pressing the speed dial for Jason's number when she stopped. Besides being too early, she was not sure she would ever reach him if his mother had been taken by the Darkness.

She felt a terrible ache in her heart. Jason had always been the first one to whom she had turned. His logical approach balanced her emotional one. If the Harbingers ever lost that ...

Cassie shivered and brought up Ned's number but stopped herself again. She uttered a loud sigh and slapped her hands to her sides as she stomped towards the bay window. Bad enough her own parents had problems with Ned, she did not want to get his parents upset as well. He could do little more than Cassie could.

"I have to do something," she muttered. "I have to know if everyone's okay."

She lifted the phone up and dialed.

Debby sat at the dining room table brooding over a cup of tea and casting a morose look at the weather monitor mounted on the wall. The outside temperature had not risen much above the nineteen degrees at which it had stood since she had been awakened again by her daughter's disturbed dreams.

Her Pagan beliefs said every season was special and necessary in the yearly cycle. That morning, however, she found little to enjoy about winter. She was desperate to perform a ritual which would better protect her daughter from outside influence, but it had to be done outside while wearing as little as possible. She would either be too cold wearing only a light wrap or silk robe to do the ritual effectively at best or she would frostbite her fingers and toes at worst.

The sound of the phone gave her a jolt, and she uttered a mild curse when hot tea splashed on her hand.

She set down the cup and shook her scalded hand as she crossed the room. She glanced at the caller ID and snatched the receiver from the hook. "Cassie, hello. Are you all right?"

"Yes, Mrs. Radson," came Cassie's strained voice. "But I'm not sure Jason is."

Debby closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. "Goddess ... what's happened now?"

"I got a call from him ... Mrs. Radson, did you just say what's happened now?"

"A lot has happened since I last saw you."

Cassie paused. "It's about the lines, isn't it? Someone moved one of them."

Debby straightened up. "Yes! But how did you ..." She trailed off, her eyes widening. "You did it? You Projected yourself successfully?"

"Yes, twice now," Cassie replied in a quavering voice.

"That's wonderful! It came to you that easily? And you were able to tell that the line had moved? That means you have an innate sense of the line forces when you--"

"Mrs. Radson, please. Let me tell you about Jason."

Debby's heart ached when it sounded as if Cassie were close to tears. "Yes, of course, I'm terribly sorry. Please, go on."

Cassie told her about the phone call and what she saw when she had Projected herself the night before. "I can't sense him anymore over the link. Or Melinda. Richie I can still sense a tiny bit. Heather as well, but I can tell she's back under Ms. Bendon's thrall already. Only you, Diane, and Ned can I sense fully, and even Diane had faded from me for a brief time Thanksgiving morning."

"Oh, great Goddess," Debby whispered, covering her eyes with her hand.

"I have no idea how badly Jason's mother was affected. I'm guessing that was what I was seeing, the Darkness reaching out through the line. Jason always told me that his mother never had contact with anyone affected by the Darkness, so this is the only way it could get at her."

Debby nodded halfway through Cassie's statement. "Yes, I believe you're correct. And I know why Diane faded out yesterday." She told Cassie what had happened between Diane and Penny Sovert.

"Oh, goodness, is she okay?!" Cassie cried.

"Yes, she's fine, she managed to resist Mrs. Sovert. Explanations as to how will have to wait. Later she called me with the revelation of the moved line. She was the first who figured it out."

"But how did it move?"

"It has to be the Book," Debby said in a shaky voice. "Enough of it must have survived for the Darkness to learn the spells to move the line. It probably has other spells for manipulating the line energies, which explains why you saw it extending tendrils of itself."

Cassie uttered a despairing sigh. "Mrs. Radson, I have to know if Jason is okay, but I doubt I'll ever be able to reach him on the phone."

"Cassie, it's okay. I'll check on him myself. I'll go over to his house later this morning."

Cassie gasped. "M-Mrs. Radson, are you sure that's safe?"

Debby thought of her daughter earlier, writhing in erotic torment upon the sheets of her bed, panties soaked with unrelenting arousal. Susan had to be forced to awaken so she could relieve some of the sexual tension. Debby was likely the only mother not affected by the Darkness who purchased sex toys for her own daughter. "No, I don't think this is at all safe," she said in a strained voice. "But I have to do it. I'm ... I'm a Harbinger. I have an obligation to all of you."

"But you were worried about protecting your daughter."

Debby's fingers tightened around the receiver. Don't make this any harder for me, she thought. "I will most likely meet Jason's mother, and I can tell how badly under the influence of the Darkness she is. While I can't see the Dark Auras, I will be right on one of the lines so my power to see psychic auras will be enhanced."

"But if the Darkness tries to get you ... oh God, I can't imagine losing you, too!"

"I refuse to believe we have lost anyone," Debby said in what she hoped sounded like a firm voice of motherly authority. "I truly believe we would know such a thing for sure, just like how we can always sense poor Heather is under Laura Bendon's control."

"I hope you're right, Mrs. Radson," said Cassie. "Please, call me the moment you know anything. I'll contact Ned later this morning."

"We should all find a way to get together at some point this weekend."

"It can't be today. We're having several social functions at the mansion and my mother already told me she expects me to be at every one. I think she was spooked by what happened yesterday and doesn't want to let me out of her sight."

"That's all right, Cassie, I ... oh, no, what happened?"

"I don't want to go into it right now. I'd rather wait until I have time to talk to you about it."

"All right, but I'm going to hold you to that. I promise to call you later."

"Thank you, Mrs. Radson," Cassie said, her voice gushing with relief. "I don't know what we would do without you."

Jason rose just before dawn after a fitful night's sleep. He had managed slumber only after reattaching the power cable to the computer. He drew enough comfort from the whir of the cooling fans and the blink of the network activity light to allow him a few hours sleep, though his still agitated mind would not let him rest much past morning twilight.

Jason stumbled out of bed and jammed his glasses to his face. He turned to the computer and grasped the top edge of the chair, but uttered a small sigh and turned away. He had no idea how much time he had before his mother would rise and insist on more "family time" as she usually did on the day after Thanksgiving. For once he wished the high school did not give that day off.

He grabbed Elizabeth's journal from under the bed. His nose was already in the pages before he flopped back onto his bed. He felt he was too close to a breakthrough to stop now, and if there were ever a time he needed one, this was it.

Elizabeth had detailed Victor's activities. She had uncovered his cult and where they were holding their rituals. She described several encounters with the man, becoming too frequent for her to consider them coincidence anymore. He skimmed over most of them, silently demanding she return to her research into techniques to block the Darkness' influence. He finally found this:

July 18th, 1975 - This endeavor is far more difficult than I had ever imagined, but today I believe I have finally made some concrete progress.

The further I go, the deeper I am forced to delve into my own psyche. It is little wonder the Darkness can find so many paths into the human mind. We give it the tools to enslave us. Every time I think I have a way to close off one path, I find two more it could use instead.

The link between sex and power is only the tip of the iceberg. Sexuality is the means by which it enslaves us for precisely that reason, but it can use many techniques to breach the mind before it reaches that point. It can play on our faults just as well as it can play on our most forbidden desires.

In the ideal world, if one could completely accept all his faults and face his darkest desires with complete equanimity, the Darkness cannot touch him. But this is unrealistic. Thus I have to turn to the alternative, which is to somehow shield or wall-off those parts of the mind from it.

I have contacted a friend who has requested I not mention her name here. She is (at least compared to me) an expert in meditative techniques. She, too, has noticed odd things happening in Haven which frighten her and is more than willing to give me intense, private training. I finally had a chance to test it today. I spent two hours in deep meditation while I attempted my technique. It is hard to describe in words. It involves drawing one's intellectual center deeper into the mind, a sort of mental "going into the bunker." At the same time, I had a vibrator seated inside my vagina, gently stimulating me so I could build up sexual energy while I was in trance.

This last part was the hardest. In my initial attempts, I was too distracted by the pleasure to enter the proper meditative state. It was only this morning I finally managed it. I then set out to visit a man I knew was under Dark influence, someone who had tried some months ago to lure me into sex with him. I had felt the Dark power entering my mind and forcing me to become aroused at his advances.

Just like last time, he tried it again, and I again felt the terrible presence in my psyche. But this time, I had drawn enough of myself away from his intrusion that he had little to work with, and I felt no unwanted arousal. The only drawback was he became annoyed, as if he could tell I was keeping him out.

I will have to do some rethinking before I go further. I would prefer that this remain clandestine, that the Darkness can be fooled into thinking it is in control. Either that, or let it be in control but channel the energy it would normally turn against me and use it for my own benefit. There are so many diverse elements to consider, but I am too excited at this progress to worry about it now!

Jason's head snapped up when he heard the floorboards in the hallway creak. After a pause, the shower in the master bath ran. As much as he hated stopping here, he did not want to risk his mother seeing him with the journal.

Jason re-bundled the papers and shoved them under the bed. He jumped up and crossed to his computer desk in one long stride, dropping into the seat with a thump.

He brought up the web browser, but the community board was still empty save for the same volunteer jobs he had seen the day before. He frowned at the computer screen. Using his father's PC the day before had been a stupid idea. He had all but announced he was conducting surveillance on his father. That was likely the last time he would manage to obtain the password.

Not that the surveillance had gained anything. His father had been right in that he kept nothing about work on the home PC. Jason had even used a program to reconstruct the bits of deleted files (since most filesystems deleted files simply by removing a directory entry and marking the disk space as free), but this had turned up nothing.

Maybe there's just nothing to find, he thought.

Rather than deal with the potential inconvenient truth, he brought up a text editor and browsed the output log of the script which had finished moments before his mother had forced him to shut down the computer. Much of it consisted of error messages from servers which had managed to stymie his attempts at infiltration. Interspersed with these were dumps of information from sites which he had breached: a listing of deposits from an ATM; a list of names and credit card numbers from a bookstore; a detailed report of gallons of gasoline pumped from a particular gas station along an interstate highway in the Midwest.

All had one thing in common: they may be places Richie's father Mike Hendon had been in the past four months.

What little free time Jason had over the past month had been spent leading him to this point. The latest breakthrough a few days before Thanksgiving had narrowed his search when he discovered the man's name in the roster of a trucking company. Now he could concentrate his search on the company's shipping routes.

He was nearly at the end of the file, expecting to come up empty again, when he came upon a list of transactions at a grocery store in southwestern Iowa. He spotted Mike's name in a transaction for $62.67, accompanied by an image of a scanned check. Jason brought up the JPEG file in an image-viewer; written in the lower left corner was a phone number.

Jason scrambled to copy the number down on a post-it note just as the shower shut off. He closed out of the image and the log and activated the screensaver. He looked at the number and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans which hung over the foot of the bed. As he headed into the bathroom for his own shower, he wondered how he would ever get out of the house long enough to inform Richie what he had found.

Audrey stepped out of the shower, prickly and shivering as the icy water lingering on her skin evaporated in the morning chill. Her nipples stood out like two hard, narrow knobs, the areolae slightly puckered. Her teeth chattered as she grabbed the robe and pulled it on, tying the sash with a vicious yank.

She grasped the edge of the sink, her wet hair sending rivulets down her shoulders, back, and breasts. Her breath was still a harsh pant from the impact of the cold shower and her efforts to banish the demons which her dreams had conjured during the night.

What are demons or angels except that which we choose to believe?

Audrey shuddered and closed her eyes. Sometimes she could almost see the voice, like another entity sharing her mind. As alien as its words were, she sensed a disturbing familiarity as well, as if these dark images were somehow conjured from her own thoughts.

Perhaps that is true, and you are only now giving leave to them.

Audrey swallowed and snatched the bath towel from the rack. She patted her hair until it no longer dripped and picked up the hairdryer, only to set it down again when her hand was shaking too badly. She stared at herself in the mirror and tried to see the plain, forty-something mother with whom she had been content for the past six years.

Instead, she slowly tugged the edge of the robe until one of her breasts was bared, the nipple still erect, the flesh soft and enticing. A husky sigh passed her lips as she tugged the sash, her eyes still riveted to her reflection, until it came undone and her sex appeared, perfectly framed by her wide hips.

You've denied your desires for so long.

Audrey shook her head, but the cold shower had failed to do anything for the growing heat between her legs. The more she tried to forget her dreams, the more they spun in her head, until her pussy glistened and ached with need.

She glanced towards the bathroom door. "If ... i-if I could just ... if he ... no, I can't, not Henry. I ..."

Audrey let out a husky sigh as her pussy became too hot and wet for her to ignore. The aroma of her own arousal teased her until she slid her trembling fingers downward, her hips jerking slightly at the first touch against her slick folds. She panted softly as she swirled her fingertips against her clit, the same way Henry would do just before he ...

"Oh God, I can't think about that," Audrey moaned. She spread her legs and tilted her body forward, her fingers plunging into her cunt. Her nipples brushed the terrycloth of the robe, and she gasped at the sharp spikes of pleasure which radiated from them.

You most assuredly can think about it.

Audrey rocked her hips against her hand, her eyes half-lidded, two fingers plunging into her rising pussy with each thrust. She pawed one of her breasts with her free hand, shivering and moaning when she pinched the nipple and felt it throb as if in a miniature orgasm of its own.

She shook her head again, but with far less conviction. "I-I can't," she whimpered. "I can't think about ... a-about something I ..."

Something you can't have?

Audrey grunted as she slammed her hips against her hand, three fingers filling her now. She closed her eyes and saw herself riding a nice, thick cock, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, bodies slapping together in raw lust. Her pleasure climbed but not fast enough to suit her pent-up need.

You most certainly can have cock again.

Audrey's emotions whirled in a tumult of conflict. Dark and forbidden desires roiled in the dark depths of her mind, daring to rise into the light. Denial only seemed to empower them, as if meeting her force with equal resistance. Or perhaps it was the force and she was the resistance.

Her hand left her breast and gripped the counter, her hips rocking. She opened her eyes but the imagery remained, her desire escalating. Her dreams from the night before played themselves out again, and she was forced to watch herself couple with the most impossible of partners.

Hardly impossible at all.

Audrey tried to shake her head but managed only to look away for a moment. Her eyes returned to the mirror, but the mother could barely be seen anymore. She saw only lust denied.

Yet the mother was still there. The mother's eyes shimmered and begged to be freed of these horrible desires. The mother wanted to go back to the way things were, with an attentive husband and an obedient son. The mother wanted to love and protect her child. The mother wanted everything back to normal.

Oh, but there is nothing which is abnormal about this.

Audrey clenched her teeth as she rode the phantom cock to the straining precipice of climax. She tried one last time to think about how young Jason was, how she would not see him hurt for the world, how she loved him as a son.

Just as she rode her dark fantasy over the edge into throbbing orgasm, the image burst into her head of her riding Jason's nice, hard cock.

Audrey stumbled back from the sink as her cunt clenched around her fingers. She bumped hard against the laundry hamper, her fingers still rubbing her pulsing sex. The breath she had been holding exploded from her mouth in a loud gasp. She imagined Jason's cock throbbing inside her, and her hips jerked as if receiving his final thrusts.

Was that so bad now?

Audrey wheezed from the effort not to cry out as her orgasm rolled through her whole body, her breathing briefly caught in the same staccato rhythm. A post-coital ache came in the wake of her fading climax, a sensation as wonderful as her original arousal had been.

Was playing to a little harmless fantasy all that big a deal?

Audrey panted hard as she forced herself away from the wall. Her fingers still swirled slowly against her clit, as if seeking to continue the moment. She reluctantly withdrew her hand and stepped up to the mirror. She stared at herself, the insides of her thighs damp.

She managed a tiny smile. Yes, a fantasy. That's all it was. She wouldn't really do that. Just a fantasy. It had to be. She was still a good mother.

Oh, you are a VERY good mother.

Audrey straightened, and her smile widened. Yes, she knew she was. She would keep her son on the right path, just like she had yesterday when she made him promise to seek a job. That would make everything right again. He would learn responsibility and be away from all the bad influence.

And you have found a new way in which to love him.

Audrey paused for a long moment, then slowly nodded. She picked up the hairdryer with a far more steady hand, eager to get on with the rest of the day.

Melinda emerged from the bathroom, still brushing out her hair, and gazed at her sister's empty bed with a sigh. She gave her hair a few last strokes with the brush and tossed it onto her bed, if for no other reason than she knew that failing to put stuff away pissed off her mother.

She wished Heather had at least tried to wake her up before leaving. Then again, Heather had likely descended far into Laura Bendon's thrall again, and hearing her gush about her sexy outfit or her wonderful Mistress would have driven Melinda crazy.

She trotted to the dresser and bent down to open one of the bottom drawers. She felt the weight of her breasts as they dangled under her, an experience she was still getting used to. She snatched a pair of panties and held them up for a moment.

"I wonder if I should even bother trying," she muttered.

She glanced towards the bedroom door. She heard faint sounds from her father's office but nothing else. Her mother was still out. Her mother's schedule was so irregular that she had no idea if her mother were actually working at the Inn that day.

Melinda stepped into the panties and yanked them up her legs, letting go of the waistband with a snap. She let out a relieved sigh when she felt no discomfort and no immediate urge to remove them. She did not question how odd it was that her mother would forget to replace the nudity trigger after Thanksgiving was over; at this point, she would take whatever advantage she could get regardless of the circumstances.

She pulled out a bra and had thrust her arms into the straps when she paused and pulled it back off again. She raced into the bathroom and stared at her bosom, turning her torso to one side and the other.

She saw herself in her mind as she was a year ago when she had performed this same ritual. Her breasts had been little more than two vaguely round swellings, attached to a narrow-hipped, boyish frame. She would have given anything to look even close to what she did that day.

She stared at herself as she put on her bra and uttered a curse when the cups squeezed her breasts too tight for comfort as she tried to hook the ends together behind her back. "Shit, not again!" she cried, thumping her hands on the edge of the counter, her bra dangling loose.

Melinda tore the bra from her as she stomped out of the bathroom. She grabbed one of Heather's bras (making damn sure she took the absolute plainest one she could find) and stomped back into the bathroom. She pulled it on and hooked it in the back, then muttered another string of curses when she was forced to adjust the straps for her smaller frame.

She twisted her torso around again and sighed. The cups fit perfectly. "Great, now I've got bubblehead boobs."

She marched out of the bathroom, making note with a frown of how much play her breasts still had even with the support of the bra. She briefly contemplated switching back to the tighter one just to keep them from bouncing around, but shook her head and pulled on the rest of her clothes. She wanted to get out of the house for a bit before her mother came back.

Melinda did remember what her mother had done to her, as evidenced by the way she kicked closed one of the drawers of the dresser, causing a can of Heather's hairspray to fall over. She ignored it even as it rolled off and bounced on the carpet. She flew out the door and raced down the stairs, her gaze snapping left and right looking for any sign her mother was still home. She jumped down the last two steps, landing with a thump which rattled the china in the small cabinet under the stairs, a gesture which always brought her mother running to admonish her.

Melinda waited, but nothing happened. All she heard was her father typing at his computer in the office.

She grabbed a jacket from the coat closet and flung the front door open. She paused at the threshold, her eyes following the walk down to the street. She took a deep breath, the icy morning air triggering a weak cough. She squinted at the bright sunlight as she put on her jacket, her movements slow and almost reluctant.

Her heart thumping, she finally stepped forward and pulled the door closed behind her. She took a few steps down the walk and paused again. The memory of the night before flickered in her mind, but the moment was fleeting. She looked back at the house.

(Maybe she is protecting us somehow)

Melinda frowned and bolted down the path, then turned onto the street heading south. She had just broken into a run when she was startled by a voice behind her. "Hey, where's the fucking fire?"

Melinda whirled around. "What the hell do you want?"

Richie jogged up to her, his hands thrust into his pockets. "Same as you, probably."

Melinda rolled her eyes. "No, I don't want to have sex with you."

Richie snorted. "I didn't mean that, pipsqueak. Shit, I meant I had to get away from my fucking family for a bit."

"Oh, that," Melinda said in a more contrite voice. She tilted her head. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can be in the fucking armpit of the Rockies."

"I mean, your eyes look kinda red."

"Had trouble sleeping," Richie said in a lower voice. "Too much turkey and too much bullshit at the same time. Long, boring story, you don't wanna hear it."

"Good, because I want to go see Jason." Melinda whirled around, her hair nearly smacking Richie in the face. She jogged down the street, shivering when a stiff breeze swirled around her.

Richie caught up and fell into step beside her. "I'll go with you."

"Oh, yeah, way to be the fifth wheel, Richie," Melinda muttered.

"Yeah, right, like you think Jason's Mom will let you go hump your boyfriend."

"It's not that!" Melinda snapped, though her pussy grew warm anyway. She had not had sex with Jason for nearly a week, the longest they had ever gone without for the past two months. Yet her erotic thoughts about Jason were interspersed with fleeting images of her mother's nice, wet pussy.

"Hey, I won't bother you two, okay?" Richie said. "I just want to make sure no more bullshit happens while you're walking there."

Melinda stared. "What, you're protecting me or something?"

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

The tone of his voice suggested he was not to be dissuaded from this task. If she needed any sort of protection, it was inside the house and not outside. Instead of retorting, however, she forced her voice to a softer tone and replied, "No, I don't. Thanks."

Melinda was glad she had not given him her original snappish reply when she realized he still felt guilty about failing to stop her from being kidnapped by Victor's people. The memory made her shudder even if it also made her pussy damp and her nipples tingle. She licked her lips as she recalled the wonderful sensation of her mother's swollen clit against her tongue. She clenched her teeth and shook her head until she managed to banish the thought from her head.

"Are you okay?" Richie asked. "You're acting weird."

"What? Yes, I'm fine. Well, no, I'm not."

"Uh, mind translating that from chick-speech to English?"

Melinda sighed. "My mother is screwing with my head some more. Can we leave it at that, please?"

"Yeah, sure, no prob."

Melinda came to the intersection of Green and Mist Lane. She was about to turn right to head towards Jason's house when she abruptly stopped and looked left. Richie bumped into her and looked as well. The street curved away slightly towards the now empty cul-de-sac where the House had once stood.

"What?" Richie finally prompted.

"You feel anything?" Melinda demanded.

"Yeah, cold."

"I don't mean that, smartass, I mean ... well, I always feel a little something here. Like a kind of tingle. Shit, Heather was right. The line did move."

"The line did what?"

"Moved! That's what Heather thinks, that it's going under our house."

"Fuck, you serious?" Richie said, though his voice did not betray much surprise, as if had already figured it out for himself. "That why everything went apeshit yesterday at my house?"

Melinda stared at him. "What happened?"

"Let's just say the Dark bitch called in more troops and leave it at that for now."

"You have to tell Jason about it!"

Richie snorted and shrugged. "What's he gonna do? It's been a month and he hasn't been able to do jack shit for me. You think he's gonna wave some sorta magic nerd wand and make it all better?"

Melinda gave him a forlorn look. He had echoed her own wish, as improbable as it sounded even to her.

She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Wet heat steamed in her pussy as she saw herself kneeling before her mother's spread legs. She swallowed and banished the image, but only after drawing on energy from the link for assistance. Her eyes widened when she realized what she just did.

"Heather was right!" Melinda cried. "Shit, the line did move. I can use the link again. I couldn't back home!"

Richie frowned. "Wait, this is still fucked up. We've been on these stupid lines before and it didn't do shit to any of us."

Melinda grabbed his arm. "Come on, we have to talk to Jason about this!" She raced down the street, dragging a stumbling Richie with her until he matched her pace. She sighed as the curve of the street brought them into the line's influence again.

Jason propped his head up with his hand as he sat at the end of the sofa, having already almost nodded off twice. Each time he had been jolted awake by a jab in the ribs from his mother's elbow. Across the room, Aunt Betty's wide frame seemed to expand to take up all the available space in the easy chair as she now expounded on her latest pet conspiracy theory about how Mexican immigrants were plotting to cast America into anarchy.

He wished his mother would let him sleep. It would be better than gnashing his teeth at every falsehood, logical fallacy, and scientific inaccuracy which spilled from his Aunt's overly prolific lips. Not that she would ever deign to acknowledge he had said anything, other than to give one of those supercilious sniffs and go off again about the decayed state of Jason's discipline.

He was about to drift off for the third time when he jerked at the sound of the doorbell. "I'll get it!" he cried as he launched himself from the sofa.

Audrey grabbed his arm. "You'll stay right there, young man." She pulled him back until he fell into his seat. "I'll take care of it. Honestly, can we go one day during the holidays without interruptions?"

Jason sighed and watched his mother walk by a surprising sight the day after Thanksgiving: his father. He had pulled up a chair from the dining room, where he sat with a can of beer on one hand. Jason could not recall seeing his father having alcohol that early in the day. Though the strained look on his face as he was forced to listen to Aunt Betty suggested that perhaps he needed it.

Audrey peered through the peephole and uttered a frustrated sigh. "This is going to stop, now."

Henry frowned and turned as Audrey flung open the door, and three voices attempted to speak at once.

"Audrey, who is it?" said Henry.

"Mrs. Conner, can I see ...?" said Melinda, her voice trailing off into a gasp.

"I'm sorry, but you are going to have to wait until Monday and see him in school," declared Audrey, speaking over the other two, though not enough to prevent Jason from recognizing Melinda's voice and leaping to his feet. "In fact, I believe that should be the situation from now on. You two need to cool things off. Neither of you is even close to old enough to have this serious a relationship. And you are most certainly far, far too young to even contemplate--"

"Audrey!" Henry snapped.

By now, Aunt Betty had turned her own jaundiced eye towards the tableau, raising an imperious eyebrow as Audrey spun around, revealing a rather stricken Melinda. "What is it, Henry?" Audrey cried. "Can't you see I'm rather busy right now?"

"Is that Melinda Sovert at the door?" Henry asked.

"Yes, and I am finally--"

"Let Jason see her."

Jason's eyes widened at the same time Aunt Betty's narrowed.

Audrey stared at her husband. "Henry, have you taken leave of your senses?"

Henry stood. "I seem to be the only one around here who still has them."

Audrey gasped. "What?? How dare you--!"

Henry marched towards the door. "Audrey, stop it. There's no reason to stop Jason from seeing his girlfriend."

Audrey looked scandalized. Her Aura whirled like a tornado. "How can you say that? You know what they're doing. How do you know they're not going to sneak away somewhere and--"

"Where? Melinda's father works out of his home."

"You know there's so many secluded places around this town that--"

"For crying out loud, it's below freezing outside! And we can't be his keepers, Audrey. We have to trust him every now and then, you know?"

Audrey's eyes glazed, tendrils of her Aura snapping at the air. She glanced towards Aunt Betty.

"Influence, Audrey," boomed Aunt Betty. "It can be good, or it can be bad. Which do you want for your son?"

Jason's hands balled into fists, and he shot a glare at his Aunt. He wanted to tell her exactly what he thought of that statement, but his father did it for him.

"With all due respect, Betty," Henry began, mocking Aunt Betty's inflections. "Keep your comments about how we raise our son to yourself."

"Stop insulting my sister!" Audrey hissed. "And this is not for Melinda's ears."

Audrey started to close the door. Henry jammed his hand against the edge and forced it back. "Audrey, let Jason see his girlfriend," said Henry in an even voice.

"We have company! Aunt Betty is--!"

"Is completely ignoring him anyway, except when she wants to offer unsolicited advice about how to raise him. I doubt his presence will be missed in that regard. Let him see Melinda."

Audrey's eyes blazed. "I will not be dictated to."

"This is silly. It really is. I'm sorry, I'm putting my foot down."

"And if I don't like it?"

Henry stepped up to her, his eyes set hard upon hers. "Then change my mind."

Jason was beside himself. His father's Aura churned; his mother's Aura roiled. Jason held his breath in the tense silence which followed. He flinched and let a breath out as a shaky sigh when he sensed the words of the Darkness sliding into his mother's head. Let him have this one. This confrontation is not worthy of you. Rest assured, your problem with Jason will be solved very soon. Nothing Henry can do will change that.

Audrey let go of the door and sighed. "Fine," she said in a low voice before she stepped away, revealing a pale and shocked Melinda and a wide-eyed Richie behind her.

Henry turned away from the door, his hand still gripping its edge. "Jason? Kindly fetch your warm coat so your mother doesn't worry about you coming down with something on top of everything else."

Jason nodded, unable to find any words which were appropriate for the moment. He raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time despite her mother's admonishments against it in the past, too fearful that if he took took long something would happen to ruin the moment. He bounded back down while still putting on his coat.

He again tried to say something, but nothing would come. His mother was already back on the sofa, her arms folded, looking sullen. Aunt Betty cast a suspicious look upon Jason, as if believing he had orchestrated the entire thing. As he was about to step past the threshold, his father stopped him.

"Be back home for dinner," Henry said in a very soft voice.

Jason stared at his father, then again at his Aura, and simply nodded once. He jogged down the front steps as his father closed the door behind him.

Diane wandered along the edge of the broken road, her booted feet picking their way carefully among the detritus and patches of icy snow. Dead weeds poked up through the myriad cracks which spidered across the surface of the abandoned blacktop. Further ahead at a lonely intersection, the asphalt stopped and gravel began, where a former section of Old Fairview Drive had become a local street which ran along the southwest edge of town.

Diane sighed, her breath fogging the air before her face. Her boots crunched against the gravel as she stepped off the blacktop, loud in the silence of the cold morning. Shadows from tall spruces swallowed her as she passed through the intersection. Her heart thumped despite all attempts to calm it.

She was not sure why she was doing this. To prove something to herself? To the others? Or did she just want to shake the feeling that she was acting the part of the coward?

She looked up at the line of aspens along the far edge of the road. The area was familiar to her. Ever since Fairview Drive had been realigned and moved further from the edge of the foothills when she was six, she liked to take walks here. She had considered it both a thrill and a sort of rite of passage the first time her mother had let her walk here alone.

She let out a somber sigh. She often heard others complain about living in a place like Haven. Up until autumn, Diane had adored living here. Despite appearances of adhering to the stereotypical image of a suburban teen, she would rather wander in a forest than a shopping mall.

She slowed her gait as she came upon a narrow, unmarked road which turned south between thick stands of aspen trees. The "ROAD CLOSED" sign still lay on the ground half-buried in dead leaves in the same spot it had been for the past few years. She took a deep breath and wandered past it, her heart racing.

Diane came across a clearing covered in gravel set back from the street. A rusting hulk of a charcoal grill sat at the edge, and near it were the remains of a picnic table and benches. Another set were covered in vines. A decorative boulder lay in the center, and next to it was the broken remnant of a sign which said "MPGOUND CLOS."

She stepped up to the weathered piece of painted wood and nudged it aside with the toe of her boot before sitting upon the boulder. She turned her head and gazed at what was once a campground, now used as a makeout area during the summer.

According to the map she drew that morning, the moved line now ran directly under this clearing. So now what? She was still mystified as to how she had done it the first time, yet she expected herself to repeat it? She was not sure which of the two possible outcomes -- success or failure -- frightened her more.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She saw the link to the other Harbingers and encountered her first disappointment. While at the Sovert house, she could immediately sense the blue-white energy of the line. Now she saw nothing. Had she gotten the location of the line wrong?

She looked at the Harbinger link again. Maybe that was still the key. The link was a form of communication, and all communication went through some sort of medium. The link was based on something supernatural and so were the lines. If she could see one, she might see the other as well.

She relaxed as much as she dared sitting in such an open area. She had always sensed the other Harbingers save for Heather as one homogeneous entity, but as she concentrated, she discerned their individual presence. Debby, Ned, and Cassie she noticed first, and then Richie and Melinda faded into tenuous view. Jason she could not really sense at all; she tried not to read too much into that.

One heart-stopping fear at a time, please, Diane thought.

The idea of something happening to Jason distracted her, and she had to re-attain her focus. She concentrated until she sensed all as individual entities, though Melinda and Richie were fading out again.

This isn't working, Diane thought in despair. But it has to. How did I do it before? How did it work when I was ...?

Diane shuddered, and nearly ended the experiment there. Instead, she drew in a shaky breath and let herself remember the ritual while under Victor's thrall, where everyone had taken their turn having sex with her, building her up into an excruciating frenzy of unrequited sexual need. She trembled as she forced the moment to replay in her head, a tear trickling down her cheek, up to the moment where she was finally allowed orgasm to channel the power.

Suddenly, her thoughts were infused with a blue-white haze. She abandoned the imagery and tried to reach into it, but it slipped away like smoke through her fingers. When she opened her eyes, she sensed it remained, like a low fog hanging over the distant landscape.

She sat very still and banished the memory of her ordeal. The haze persisted, and the air around her felt charged. She had made some sort of connection. It had come about only when she had thought about acting the part of the slave.

Diane paused and slowly shook her head. No, it had come when she had thought about the moment she had orgasmed while she was a slave. That was when the power had come to her at the Sovert house, at the moment when climax was inevitable.

Diane covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh God, I can't, not ... not ..." She trailed off, letting out a slow sigh as she felt warm moisture in her sex.

I'm being a coward again, Diane thought. Just a fucking coward.

She looked around, then slowly took her hand out of her pocket. Her cheeks glowing pink, she spread her legs and slid her hand under her jeans and panties.

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