Cassie stands before the veil, as she has countless times before. Beyond it lay memory and emotions, all wound up into a twisty knot that the subconscious would spend all night attempting to untie. Dreams are the manifestation of that struggle.

Beyond lies the sleeping yet restless mind of her mother. Despite having spent years flitting from mind to mind on a whim every night, she feels this is a violation. Until her mother began interfering with her life, she never entered a mind with the intent to change it.

Cassie extends a trembling hand, and the veil parts easily, as if expecting her return. She lets out a quavering sigh and realizes this must stop soon. Her mother's mind is becoming used to repeated intrusion.

She steps past, feeling the chill which always accompanies the passage, yet it is attenuated as well. The haze of jumbled dream-thought begins to clear, and she is startled when she sees herself in the ballroom.

For a moment, Cassie feels she is reliving the vision from Thanksgiving, until it is clear this is an older self. After a few moments she understands. She is seeing the social engagement she had been forced to attend earlier that day, but from her mother's perspective.

The vision wavers and flickers, and ghostly after-images of herself follow it. They break away, each becoming its own entity. All appear as Cassie, but they may have well been strangers.

One holds her head high and strolls with an elegance so overly done it crosses into arrogance. Another takes the arm of a well-groomed boy and struts about with a haughty air, daring all to think they are somehow more attractive or more engaging than she. Yet another takes great interest in one of the Kendalls' business partners, listening with rapt interest as he drones on about how he made his billions, lavishing nothing but empty praise upon him.

They depart and leave the original Cassie behind. It is an exaggerated Cassie, wearing a dress so disheveled she may have well been rolling on the floor, or walking with a poise so awkward she stumbles with every other step as others titter. The real Cassie stares in disbelief. She knew her mother thought her below par, but did she really believe it to be this bad?

The scene dissolves and forms again. Now her mother is berating some staff member for some infraction. She cannot understand everything her mother says, as if something is muffling the words. This should not be happening; she should be seeing the memory as clearly as Dorothy remembers.

Dorothy sends the staff away with a disdainful sweep of her hand, but gestures for James, the head butler, to remain. Again, Cassie cannot hear what her mother asks as James nods or shakes his head in response. Upon the last question, he pauses, then shakes his head. Cassie shivers as fear sloughs off her mother's vision in thick, sticky waves, and the last question is exclaimed again. Again, James shakes his head.

Dorothy finally waves him away as well, and she stands in the upstairs corridor looking forlorn and skittish. She glances around her as if fearful someone is watching her, then dashes off. She runs down the marble staircase, and the last thing Cassie sees before the scene dissolves is her mother shoving the portrait aside to reveal the hidden button behind it.

Cassie has no idea what has happened, and it worries her. What is blocking her senses? Have they become dulled from her anxiety over the others, or had she traded some of her Dream Gift in exchange for Projection?

She drifts through more mundane scenes. Her mother chatting with her father's business partner; her mother placing orders with the staff for the next luncheon; her mother reading society magazines quietly in the drawing room; herself with her parents eating dinner. She sighs as she watches her past self's reaction to being told Harry will be ordered to chaperon her everywhere.

Finally, Cassie arrives in subdued light. It is her parents' bedroom, and her father is already in bed, his hands folded under his head as he stares at the ceiling. Cassie catches a swirl of nightgown about bare legs through the open door to the bathroom.

Cassie is about to pull herself from this memory when her mother says, "I can't emphasize how much I'm worried, Robert. I've feared a day like this would come."

Robert closes his eyes and lets out a slow sigh. "It has not come, Dorothy. You're reading too much into it."

Dorothy utters an exasperated sigh and barrels out of the bathroom. "Don't patronize me, I'll have none of it tonight!'

Cassie is momentarily stunned. Dorothy's nightgown clings to a body more shapely than she had ever imagined lay beneath her prim and proper conservative clothes. Cassie sees a distinct curve of hip and swell of bosom against the light material. Her hair is down, waves of gorgeous raven hair flowing over shoulders and back.

Or is she seeing an idealized version of her mother? The images she encounters in people's minds are never themselves as they are, but as they perceive themselves to be. Yet she would never imagine her mother seeing herself in such an intensely feminine way.

Robert sits up in bed, the sheet falling away from his broad chest. "I'm not, dear," he says in a gentle voice. "She did not even remember the doll house."

"So she says."

Cassie's eyes widen. She is not sure which stuns her more, the topic of conversation or that her mother would think she is lying.

"I doubt she remembers anything of that time," said Robert. "Most likely her only reason for going there was because her boyfriend prompted her."

Cassie gasps. Did her father just refer to Ned as--!

"Stop calling him that!" Dorothy hisses. "I never did want him around her in the first place, and I most certainly do not if he will prompt her into remembering such things."

Cassie stares at her father, willing him to say something which will explain everything and calm her growing fears. At first, Robert sighs and rubs his face, his typical gesture when he is about to bend to his wife's will. Instead, he forces his hand down and gives Dorothy a level look. "Try to keep them apart, and you will only drive them further together."

Dorothy appears about to retort, then shakes her fists and utters an exasperated noise. Cassie can almost see the air shimmer with a rising anger which has nowhere to vent. "Then we'll leave."

Cassie stares, and for a moment it is as if her heart has stopped and gone cold.

"We will leave within the month! We can go back to the east coast. We can leave all this behind and raise her in proper environment."

"Oh God, no," Cassie whimpers. "Please, no ... p-please don't make me have to ..."

"We can't do that," said Robert in a flat voice. "And you know why we can't."

"I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!" Dorothy screams, making Cassie flinch. "Don't you understand that?! I don't want to do it! I'm too scared! I-I'm ..."

Suddenly, Robert is there, holding her. Cassie's breath catches in her throat as she watches Dorothy struggle at first, then embrace her husband with a ferocity that electrifies the continuum.

Cassie's eyes blur with tears at the rolling wave of emotion from BOTH. Somehow, she is in both their minds at the same time, or the two share a bond which runs far deeper than she had ever imagined. Never could she remember her parents ever showing such open affection for one another.

Now she understands why the memory is so clear and detailed. It is a synthesis of the memories from two minds. Yet her own emotions are in too much of a tumult for her to see the implications. Her heart aches at the sight of her mother's human side.

"I'm sorry," Dorothy breathes. "I didn't mean ..."

"Shh, it's okay," Robert whispers. "It's all right."

Dorothy breaks off the embrace and wipes her tear-stained face. "You must think m-me some heartless monster now."

Cassie's heart lurches, and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks again.

"Of course I don't," Robert says. "Why would I?"

"I am worried for Cassandra, not just myself. I just want the best for her. I want what I feel is right for her."

Such words would have once sparked immediate rebellion in Cassie, but these sound more like a desperate plea than an edict.

"She can be so much, if she would just let me guide her. Then she will be safe. We all will. Now do you see why I worry about this boy she is seeing? I mean, really, Robert, you saw the results of the background check yourself!"

"What?" Cassie cries, and her anger rises again.

"Yes, and I saw nothing suspect about him," Robert says.

"But his family--"

"Is not everything."

Dorothy falls into a silence as stark as Cassie's surprise. Finally, her mother speaks in a halting voice, its tone somewhere between shock and fear. "H-How can you say that? You sound like her! She seems to care nothing for the Kendall name! She--!"

"That is not what I mean. This is not the same situation. If anything, his family is a name he should distance himself from, and from what I can see, he is doing a damn good job of it."

Cassie does not know how to react. Part of her hates the implied attitude that one should abandon one's family if they are not living up to some arbitrary code of honor.

"The young man I saw sharing dinner with us last night may not live up to our standards of refinement and poise, but I saw nothing in him which would suggest he has ulterior motives. And you know how I have a knack for sizing up someone."

Cassie lets out a ragged breath of relief. She knows this too, that one of the keys to his success is his ability to "read" another person and tell whether they were being honest or not. That he sensed something good from Ned means more to her than anything her mother could have said.

Dorothy's shoulders slump, and she leans her head against Robert's chest as he draws her into a gentle hug. "I hope you're right, Robert. I hope to God you're right."

"And Dorothy?"

Dorothy's fingers curl into his arm. "I know what you're going to ask me to do, damn you." She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes, trembling. "You want me to withdraw my last directive to her."

Cassie's heart leaps.

"Please," Robert says in a very soft voice. "It will accomplish nothing in the end and will only make matters worse."

"I just ... I just don't want her to remember ..."

"Remember?" Cassie calls out in alarm. "Remember what?"

"I don't think anyone can affect that except herself," says Robert. "If she doesn't, she won't."

"Is this about that memory of me in the ballroom?" Cassie cries. "I want to remember it! Why can't I?!"

"I hope you're right," says Dorothy in a low voice. She straightens up and takes a deep breath. "Very well. I will not have Harry chaperon her any more than he already has."

Robert smiles. "Thank you. Now, come to bed, please."

Dorothy nods and sniffles. Her lips twitch until a genuine smile graces her face, the first Cassie has seen in a long time. In that moment, her mother's face is every bit as attractive as her body. The scene dissolves as Dorothy sheds her nightgown and slides into bed next to her husband.

Cassie is left floating in the void, her own mind racing. The relief that she no longer has to alter her mother's mind is lost among thousands of questions. Somewhere in this mind lies the answers.

No further memories will engage her tonight. Even Dorothy's dreams seem walled off to her now. The mind which had seemed so inviting now remains closed to her trespass.

She turns away and slips past the veil.

Cassie opened her eyes and slowly sat up in bed. Outside the window, clouds hid the approaching sunrise and cast a gray pall over the room. She tossed aside the covers, but paused after she placed her feet on the floor. She uttered a long sigh and stared out the window as her thoughts spun in place and went nowhere.

She had been so grateful for not having to alter her mother's mind again that she wondered now if she had gone too far the other way and played the part of the coward. She could have forced her mother to reveal whatever had been hidden from her and fill this maddening gap in her past.

She stood up and wished she could have the entire night back, but this time to sleep in blissful ignorance. As much as she depended on her abilities, she wished she could wake up one morning not feeling so emotionally wrung-out.

Or wondering what else she did not know about her own past.

March 8th, 1976 - I live in mortal fear I will go mad before I can complete my work.

I look back on the last six months and feel I have achieved little. I cannot hold off a determined effort to break into my mind. My vagina is still sore from the prolonged session of mind-controlled sex I was forced to endure yesterday when my defenses collapsed during a foolishly conceived test for which I was obviously not ready. I still cannot resist without the aggressor knowing I am resisting him.

An inability to enter a proper meditative state or failing to generate and store the needed sexual energy is not at fault. Ever since my meditative muse and I became lovers, I have had no want of either teaching or loving sex.

It's the nightmares. Horrid things from which I waken either crying or screaming until my lover can calm me down. I cannot remember any of them! At first I thought I was dreaming about Rhonda, as my guilt has been never-ending since she vanished on Halloween night, but my psychic aura does not reflect this. My guilt and grief over her is no greater than it has been.

There has to be a connection between them and my techniques, as they always happen the night after I have practiced them. I must accept that and stop fleeing from it like a coward. I must place the ultimate trust in someone else to help me discover what these nightmares are, for I fear my only recourse is hypnosis. Only via trance can someone look past my mental censors and uncover what demons are haunting my subconscious.

I must be very careful. I must choose wisely. If I choose wrong, I will have handed myself to the Darkness, and Mara's death will be for nothing. It is times like this I wish I had not committed myself to journaling my life. I fear if someone were to find this, they could learn all my weaknesses and dominate me. I have lost track of the number of times I had considered burning this journal. That these pages contain the last memories anyone will ever have of Mara is the only thing which stops me.

When this is over, I wish to dedicate many more entries to her and the wonderful heart and spirit which lay beneath a tortured psyche. She deserves nothing less.

Jason put down the journal and rubbed his temples, where the first furtive twinges of a headache lurked. He lifted his head and looked towards the window. The sunrise struggled to dissipate the morning stratus which had drifted off the mountains during the night. He doubted he had more than four hours sleep. He had stayed up well past when his parents believed he had gone to bed, wading through Elizabeth's thick and sometimes wandering prose.

His compulsion had been driven by that wandering. The more she strayed from her task, the more desperate Jason became to push forward and hold onto the hope that Elizabeth had not started suffering from early dementia. The increased shakiness of her script and self-correcting cross-outs and overwrites did not inspire such hope. He had gone to bed with his mind still reaching for an explanation.

He let out a slow sigh and rolled onto his back, fighting the urge to close his eyes, lest he not open them until his mother barged into the room and demanded to know what supernatural claptrap he was bringing into the house.

Jason snatched up the page and held it above his head. He had yet to decide whether this new knowledge was better than ignorance. He had guessed that the Darkness' power extended beyond the mere sexual, that sexuality was simply a convenience and a universal. Elizabeth had helped demystify it to the point where he could apply logic to it.

Jason let the arm holding the page fall to the mattress. "This has got to be it," he whispered towards the ceiling. "She couldn't have come all this way for nothing."

He rolled onto his side and looked at his computer, where geometric patterns swirled on his screensaver. He reached for the back of the chair and gave it a shove. The armrest bumped the keyboard tray, jostling the mouse enough for the screensaver to turn off.

He had grown so tired of the compulsion to check the community board website that he threw together a small script to monitor it for him. It would sound an alarm when it found something had changed. He stared as the script spit out the same line every ten seconds: "No new significant content detected."

Jason heard the floorboards creak. He scrambled out of bed and rubbed his eyes, yawning. He collected the journal and stuffed it back under the bed before dashing towards the bathroom for a shower. He did not dare remove his clothes until he was behind the closed bathroom door. He could no longer trust what his mother might do if the Darkness thought it had caught him in a vulnerable moment.

As soon as Jason emerged from the bathroom after his shower, he heard a knock upon his door. In his tired and distracted state, he had not thought to take fresh clothes into the bathroom as well. He scrambled to dress himself and finally plopped himself in front of his computer, still pulling on his shirt. "Yes, Mom, I'm coming out, I just need to--"

Her heard the door open. "Jason."

Jason spun around in his chair.

"Come with me," said his father. "You're going to be helping me with chores around the house."

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to give them any thought. "What the hell are you doing here?"

On the rare occasion his father took off the day after Thanksgiving, he would work the weekend instead. "I really don't have to answer that, do I?" Henry said in a tired voice.

Jason tilted his head. His father looked as if he had not slept well either.

"And in case you're wondering, I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer."

"So are you going to 'change my mind' if I refuse? Like you threatened to do to Mom?"

"Perhaps the fact that I have never attempted such a thing with you in the past no matter how obstinate you were acting should be the answer to that question as well."

"So you admit that you can--"

"Fine, you want to play it that way?" Henry said in an irritated voice. "Then consider a choice between a lesser of two evils: spending the day with me or spending the day with her."

"What if I don't want to spend it with either one of you?"

Henry's face betrayed forced patience. "Which one of us do you think might allow you that opportunity later?"

Jason considered his father's face, trying to read it the way Cassie would read emotions. He tried to find some hidden pattern in his Aura, anything which would tell Jason what he was thinking. "Just answer me one question, please. Are we going to have another little 'talk' like we did last time?"

"I would like to, but I doubt you will give me the time of day. Suffice it to say that keeping you away from Audrey for a little while would make me happy."

Jason sighed. Was he being difficult just for its own sake? Or was his father using him as a pawn in some grand game, the rules of which were too vague to understand? He bolted from his chair. "Fine. Let's go."

Debby looked up as Bill stood at the threshold and leaned against the door frame, his hands thrust into his pockets, making him appear even more a beanpole. "Susan's almost ready, then we'll be heading out."

Debby nodded as she drew her robe more closed out of deference to her daughter. Susan had never expressed a disdain for seeing her mother nude, but Debby almost wished she had. She could not tell if Susan's uneasy looks were because she was embarrassed that she wanted to see more, or she was upset that her mother thought she could not be trusted. "I'm sorry we have to do it this way."

Bill shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and failing. She could always tell. His gaze always landed on his feet when he remained troubled. "Not a big deal. Susan actually likes my mother. I thought she got all her good taste from you."

Debby smiled faintly. "Don't go insulting your own mother, dear. Is Susan feeling better this morning?"

"Yes, I meant to tell you that. She said those dreams were a lot less intense last night. Did you do that? If so, you've got my gratitude as well."

"Once I knew I was dealing with an overabundance of line energy, I could tailor a ward for it." Bill nodded but shuffled his feet. Debby knew that gesture as well. "I know, you think a lot of this is hogwash but--"

Bill held up his hands. "Hey, if it works, I don't care how. Maybe that means things will start going back to normal around here." He paused and glanced behind him, then spoke in a lower voice, "I guess it's too much to hope that no, uh, shenanigans will be going on here while we're gone."

Debby slowly took a sip of tea, using the pause to convince herself again she had no business feeling guilty over doing what she knew was right. "Let's just say I would prefer you did not bring Susan back until late afternoon."

Bill sighed. "Yeah, I thought so."

"This works out in the end, Bill. I'm sure your mother was upset at being taken home early on Thanksgiving. Now she can talk about me all she wants."

"Oh, now, I'm sure she--"

"I'm ready, Dad," came a soft voice from behind him.

Bill stepped to the side, and Susan paused just short of the threshold, as if she had not expected her mother to be there. She took another step forward, her lips curling into a small smile, her eyes slightly distant as they flicked over her mother's body for a moment. "Hi, Mom."

"Good morning, dear. Your father tells me you're sleeping better."

Susan nodded. "It's much better, yes." She averted her eyes, then brought them back to her mother. She swayed her hips for a moment, then uttered a short sigh and folded her hands before her.

Debby knew Susan did not like her mother taking clandestine readings of her psychic aura, but she could hardly help it now, as much as the line had boosted her ability. She saw with chagrin that Susan's sexuality band was still quite tangled with lingering "damage" from Melissa. Susan would never disclose the content of her erotic dreams no matter how much Debby coaxed her but suspected they revolved around Debby herself.

"We better get going, Dad," Susan said. She waved to her mother as she turned away. "See you, Mom."

"See you, dear. Drive safely, Bill, please."

Bill smiled and waved. "Always."

Debby took a sip of tea as she watched them head out the door. She put down the cup with a small sigh as she heard the car start. She closed her eyes and let her mind entertain a memory she had not dared touch in years.

She saw herself as a very nervous sixteen year old, introduced to the concept of sex as a source of energy for the first time. The woman who taught her had been a friend of her mother for many years. So awkward had it been to see this same woman nude, gently coaxing Debby into removing her own clothes.

Debby had been so self-conscious about her body that it had taken an hour before she was finally naked, and then another just to get her aroused. Past that point, however, sex ceased to be something mysterious and forbidden, and she had never looked back.

She opened her eyes and sighed. Her only regret had been that it had not occurred earlier. Her mother had thought her ready at fourteen, but she had been too afraid of prying neighbors -- already suspicious of the Witch in their midst -- reporting her to the police. Sixteen had been the age of consent in the state at the time.

Debby had never allowed herself to recall that memory for it made it more difficult to relate to Susan. She had made the decision to raise her as a "normal" daughter. Part of it was for Bill's sake, part of it over the fear Susan would become involved with the amulet and the Book. More than once she wondered if she had made the wrong decision.

Debby finished the rest of her now tepid tea in one swallow and headed upstairs and into the guest room. The place had been transformed. She had spent the better part of the previous evening turning it into something more than just a bed upon which horny teens could hump one another.

Her faith had no specific traditions surrounding intimacy or the act of sex itself. Instead, she designed the room to suggest a sacred and protected place. Curtains embroidered with floral designs of plants important to spell-making hung from the ceiling on either side, creating a more intimate and cozy space. Fresh sprigs of holly were twined around the posts at the foot of the bed; she would periodically replace them from her supply in the tiny greenhouse Bill had created for her in a corner of the basement. Upon the dresser opposite the bed was a statuette of the Goddess between two candles blessed by her Coven. She would not light them to avoid any fire danger, but their presence acted to channel the protection of the Goddess to whomever was in the room.

Debby let out a slow sigh, and for the first time in a long while her heart ached for those tender moments in a room very much like this when a scared girl came of age and began a young woman. She wondered if that was what was lacking in the lives of her fellow Harbingers. Forced into the role of an adult with no clear coming of age ritual to make them feel they have the right to claim it, it was little wonder they were confused and unsure of themselves.

She touched one of the bedposts and held one of the tiny white holly flowers in her hand. Trying to arrange for such a thing for all was impossible. She had to focus instead on the one who needed it the most.

Ned glanced past Cassie as he closed the front door of his house and saw Harry still sitting in the driver's seat of the limo. "So I take it yer tiptoe through yer mother's mental tulips worked?"

"It didn't quite work out that way," Cassie said, her breath fogging the chilly morning air. "Yes, he won't chaperon me any more than he has been, but ... I wish I could explain, but it's going to have to wait. Here, we better get in the limo."

Ned offered his arm, and she clung to it as if afraid he would wander off. "Can ya tell me in the limo?" he said in a low voice.

"Goodness, no, I can't," Cassie whispered. "Please, don't make any mention of it. I want to get going anyway, I'm nervous enough about this as it is."

Ned nodded, though she did not see it, her eyes locked forward. He tried to keep his impatience to himself. He had been forced to spend the day before doing the very thing he hated in a crisis: absolutely nothing. He was damned if he was going to let another day pass without taking some sort of action.

Harry came around the front of the car and held open the door. Cassie shepherded Ned inside first and turned to Harry. "Take us to the Conner residence at once."

"Yes, Miss Kendall," Harry said.

Ned frowned as Harry closed the door. Yeah, and yer gonna report every single place we go ta Ms. Prissy Prima Donna, he thought.

"May I ask what you intend to do there, Miss Kendall?" Harry asked as he climbed into the car.

"No, you may not," Cassie replied. "Now please don't waste my time any further."

"Very well, Miss Kendall," said Harry in a stiff voice.

"Whoa," Ned said in a low voice. "You okay, babe?"

Cassie grasped his hand. "I'm not really sure. I'm--" She paused as Harry started the engine and lowered her voice to a near whisper. "--not sure of anything anymore. Let's just say I don't know my parents as well as I thought I did."

Ned wished he had not asked. Her replies made him all the more impatient to learn what had happened last night. "So, uh, what kinda chance ya think we got in seeing Jason?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to try." She glanced at Harry. "I want to take him along with us to Mrs. Radson's house."

"Oh? Ya think that would protect him or something?"

"I want to talk to him without his parents around. I don't trust talking to him on the phone anymore, even if I got through."

"I thought he had that whiz-bang doohickey on his phone that tells him if someone's tappin' inta it."

"That's not what I mean." She paused. "I want to be able to see him when I'm talking to him."

Ned took a moment for her meaning to become clear. "Crap, ya don't think he already--"

"I don't know what to think."

"Mrs. Radson said he was okay."

"She can't see the ... can't see it like we can." Cassie uttered a sigh of exasperation. "And I just want to see for myself. It has nothing to do with trusting Mrs. Radson's account."

"I hear ya. Sorry ta be so dense about it."

Cassie squeezed his hand. "It's okay. I'm just a little on edge right now. And I hate to ask this, but can we stop talking for now? I just want to think on things a bit."

"Sure thing, babe," Ned said. He had managed to keep the doubt from his voice, but he was forced to stare out the window lest the sight of his troubled lover prompt him into another blizzard of questions.

Yeah, I want ta see Jason, too, he thought, clenching his jaw. If only ta make sure he's gonna DO something and not just wait and see what happens.

Jason and his father worked in silence, save for Henry instructing his son on repairing a section of backyard fence which had buckled in a windstorm two weeks prior. Despite the cold, Jason soon worked up a sweat with the effort involved to tear off broken slats and realign a leaning post.

The silence only increased the tension. Jason felt it in his limbs, his muscles tight, his body wound like a watch spring. He finally vented his frustrations when he failed to keep the post upright by giving it a few vicious kicks.

"Here, we'll prop it up with this," his father said as he brought over a two-by-four and prompted Jason to grab the other end. "This will have to do until spring when I can properly replace that post. If you can avoid destroying it with your foot, that is."

"Sorry," Jason muttered as he grabbed the proffered end of the board.

Henry set the other end on the ground and moved it closer to the fence, Jason holding his end against the post. Henry planted a tent stake in the ground and pounded it with a mallet. "Maybe I should let you do this part so you can work off all that anger."

"I'm not angry," Jason lied.

Henry tossed the mallet aside and stood up. He handed Jason some long nails and a hammer from his tool belt. "Here. Take it out on the post with these."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jason muttered.

Henry leaned his weight into the post and forced it upright, then nodded for Jason to start. "Just like you didn't know what I was talking about last night."

Jason struck the first blow with the hammer too hard and cocked the nail at an angle. He cursed under his breath and pulled the nail out. "Still don't."

"I'm not looking for you to reveal some grand secret, Jason," said Henry in a sour voice as he watched his son pound in the nail at the correct angle this time.

Jason finished with the first nail and placed the second, but paused after winding up his arm to strike the first blow. He sighed dropped his hand to his side, the head of the hammer stinging when it bumped his leg. "Why is this so important to you, Dad?"

"Why is it so important to you to keep it from me?"

Jason stared, about ready to scream at him to stop playing games. Only the realization that the mantra was both tired and useless stopped him. When he thought of telling his father the truth, his mind conjured ever more illogical conspiracies, such as the ridiculous idea that his father somehow engineered his mother's fall just so he could get information from his son.

Jason raised his hammer and pounded the nail a few times before he replied. "Okay, yeah, I guess I can kind of sense the Darkness," he said in a subdued voice.

"The Darkness? So that's what you're calling it."

Jason said nothing until the implication of the statement dawned on him. He stopped and stared at his father.

"I said no more games and I meant it," Henry said. "So, yes, consider that an admission that I know something of what's going on in this town."

"So how about telling me what part you're playing in it?"

"And why do you think I am playing a part? Is it something you sense in me?"

Jason clenched his jaw. He felt like he had been maneuvered into that admission. "C'mon, Dad. No one is more secretive about his career than you are. You won't even talk about your patients."

"There is such a thing as doctor-patient privacy."

"Come off it. You don't talk about it in even the vaguest sense. It's like you just disappear somewhere for ten to twelve hours a day and reappear just to have dinner and sleep."

Henry sighed. "You're beginning to sound like Audrey."

Jason finished the second nail with several sharp blows, the last one bending the head. He pounded it down as far as he could, chipping several splinters out of the wood before his father grabbed his wrist.

"I think that one is done," Henry said.

Jason snatched his wrist away and placed the final nail. "Maybe Mom has a point," he grumbled.

"You didn't answer my question. Do you sense something of this Darkness in me?"

Jason did not respond until he had pounded the last nail. Henry let the post go; it creaked but held. Jason looked at his father and said, "Not really, no."

Henry tilted his head. "Well, there was a nice non-committal answer."

"You wanted an answer. That's my answer."

It was the truth as far as Jason could stretch it in his own mind. Yes, he saw an Aura on his father, but from the patterns and his behavior, he was not the Darkness' minion. While it was possible that his father could have acquired such power from the Darkness, it was also just as likely that the two derived it from a common source. His knowledge was not extensive enough to know for sure.

"So all your suspicion of me, all the clandestine ways you keep tabs on me, all of it is based on my habit of not talking about work and the hours I keep?"

Jason said nothing.

"Why do I find that really hard to believe, Jason?"

"Believe whatever the hell you want," Jason snapped. "It's really all a moot point by now, isn't it? You've all but admitted you're involved in this somehow."

"Perhaps I get tired of my own son believing I'm some sort of monster who's poised to destroy our family as soon as his back is turned."

Jason uttered a frustrated sigh. "What I believe is that you have some sort of hidden agenda. In a way that's worse than you being a monster. Then at least I would know what I'm up against."

"Up against? Like you and your friends up against this Darkness?"

Jason silently cursed himself, his eyes burning.

"Jason, stop thinking everything you do is a complete secret," Henry said. "I've already made it clear I know you and your friends are fighting whatever you think this is. The fact that I continue to let you do so should tell you something about my attitude towards it."

Jason remained silent, but his gaze softened slightly.

"And now your mother is involved, as much as I am sure you were taking great pains to avoid, what with your convoluted explanations for the trouble you and your friends get into."

"Then do something about it!" Jason exploded.

"Keep your damn voice down," Henry hissed. "We've been over this."

"Put up or shut up, Dad. It's that simple. If you can really--"

Henry suddenly snapped his gaze towards the alley which ran along the west side of the house. Jason heard the car engine just as his father stepped over to the side fence and looked towards the street. "Stay right here, Jason," Henry said as he jogged towards the back door. "Let me handle this with your mother."

"Handle what? What the hell are you ..." Jason trailed off as he looked down the alley and saw the back fender of a black car.

Jason felt the impulse to vault over the fence and run to the limo. He tensed as he expected to hear the voice of the Darkness as it allowed him to overhear what it was saying to his mother. Despite his father's warning, he headed for the back door. He was just about to reach for the knob when it suddenly opened.

"Go see your friends," Henry said. "We'll finish this later."

Jason gave him a confused look. "But--"

"Your mother is not giving me any flak about it. I don't know why. Do you?"

"Not a clue."

Henry nodded. "That's the first completely sincere answer you've given me all morning. Now go."

Jason walked past him, then paused in the kitchen and glanced back. "What I said before still stands, Dad," he said in an even voice. "Don't talk to me about this again unless you're willing to do something about it."

He marched off before his father could respond.

The neighborhood felt wrong.

That was the closest Cassie could come to describing what she had felt when Harry first drove up to Jason's house. The feeling grew worse the longer she waited for Ned to return. The tingle of line energy -- a sensation her Projecting ability had granted her -- felt off somehow, like a song with the same sour note repeated at regular intervals or the aroma of a carton of milk that was just about to go bad.

When Ned returned to the car with Jason, she resisted throwing her arms around him, but the relief was clear in her voice. He would not talk much, and it did not take her empathic sense to realize something had upset him. She felt a mixture of fear, anger, and frustration, so jumbled that she was not sure even he knew what he wanted to feel.

The silence was unnerving, but her own emotions were even more so. As they retreated from the corrupted line, her skin flushed, and she thought it simply relief from the chill touch of the Darkness. Yet as Harry drove on, the heat flowed into her sex until it became suffused with wet warmth.

Cassie swallowed and folded her hands in her lap, afraid to touch Ned or Jason who flanked her on either side. As the car bumped over potholes and manhole covers, the boys swayed and brushed against her until her thighs trembled. She risked a look at Ned and saw him give her a nervous grin and a brief wave. He shifted in his seat, and she dared not look down. She glanced at Jason, who gave her a furtive look in return before whipping his gaze back to the window.

Something IS going to happen, isn't it? Cassie thought, wishing for an answer she knew was not coming.

At Debby's house, Cassie stepped out of the car, her panties already damp. The chill in the air did nothing to cool the heat in her pussy. She had not wanted to take so shameful advantage of Debby's hospitality as soon as she arrived, but Debby was already cognizant of her need, though Ned and Jason were less so, or they were simply better at denying it.

Raw sexual need played no favorites, and her pussy ached for either boy equally. Nevertheless, she had tacitly promised Ned would have her to himself, and it was his hand she took before she raced up the stairs.

When she first entered the guest room, she uttered a gasp, and her hand fell away from Ned's. She was so taken by the decor that she barely heard the slide of cloth against skin behind her. Before it had simply been a bed. Now it felt special, something created just for them, a wholehearted acceptance of their needs.

"This is so lovely," Cassie said as she turned around. "Ned, I feel so much better now about ..."

She trailed off as her eyes darted from Ned to Jason and back. She had been so distracted she had not thought Jason would follow them up the stairs. Ned had stripped down to his briefs already, his stiff cock tenting the crotch. Jason was slower to undress and still had on his jeans, as if he had realized perhaps this was not where he should be.

Cassie could not get the words to come to her mouth. The more she stared, the more she wanted him to keep undressing for her. She squeezed her legs together, moisture running hot in her sex. She could not send him away.

Jason gave her an apologetic look tinged with desire. He dropped his jeans, his cock pulsing with his heartbeat behind his briefs. Cassie's gaze flicked down to it, then to Ned's. She willed herself to prefer one over the other, but the thought was brushed aside by rising desire. She could have either, or she could have both.

Cassie started undressing, but Ned and Jason descended on her. Ned stepped behind her and reached around her front, brushing her hands away and unbuttoning the blouse himself. Jason knelt before her and tugged down her skirt.

"Oh g-goodness," Cassie murmured in a quaking voice as cloth slid from her skin, leaving her trembling in her underwear. She started to pant as Ned undid her bra, then uttered a gasp as his hands cupped her breasts as they fell from the cups. His fingers teased her hardening nipples until she squirmed, and her pussy ran hot and liquid into her panties. His erection, still swaddled in his briefs, pressed into the crack of her ass.

Jason pulled her soaked panties down her legs. As soon as she had stepped out of them, he slid his hands slowly up her thighs, his fingertips trailing along her smooth skin. She let out a ragged breath, her senses reeling. Her thighs quivered, wanting to part for them. Jason slowly stood, running a hand lightly over her mound, fingertips just brushing her labia. She uttered a breathy moan and pressed her sex into his hand in a silent plea. He obliged, fingers sliding into her pussy.

Her hips slowly swayed against his thrusting fingers of their own accord, as if her body were playing to its own purpose. She could not stop no matter how hard she tried. Soon she stopped trying when she realized they were doing the slow buildup she so enjoyed. The sight of the room had triggered a need for it to be special and not just another round of frenzied sex.

In the heat of the moment, she could ignore the nagging worry she was influencing them, or that this had become special because they knew it would the last, that something terrible would indeed come to pass and shatter the Harbingers.

Cassie made her need known when she thrust her hand under Jason's briefs and curled her fingers around his hard cock. She slipped her other hand behind her and found Ned's manhood, giving both of them several strokes until they understood.

She had intended to share her first intimacy with Ned, but it was Jason who came to her instead, and Ned deferred without so much as a disappointed or jealous look. Cassie spread her legs just as willingly, and she gasped in delight when his cock sank into her tight pussy.

Cassie saw Ned crawl over her, carefully placing his knees on either side, and stared up at his engorged cock as it bobbed between his legs. She let out a husky sigh, and her lips curled into a small smile. Perhaps it had worked out the way she had really wanted. She did this so infrequently for him, as they usually had to satisfy a greater need.

As her hips rocked with Jason's thrusts, she slid her hands around Ned's hips and urged him lower. She shivered with the thrill of his cock sliding past her lips, stroking his shaft with her tongue until she felt him tremble and heard his strained sigh. She moaned through her nose as she felt the increasing urgency of Jason's rhythm, her pleasure already soaring, the bed creaking with his intensity.

Jason's enthusiasm rippled through Cassie, and her cheeks dimpled as she sucked. Ned panted, his hands gripping the top edge of the headboard. She wrapped her legs around Jason and angled her hips better, another thrill rising as his cock sank deeper into her cunt with each thrust.

Cassie was ready to explode. Her pussy strained at the edge, but Jason was not quite there yet. She pulled Ned down further, easing more of his cock into her mouth. Ned was close as well, his body trembling. She eased him back, lips clamped about his shaft. When the most sensitive spot laid against her tongue, she lashed it with side-to-side strokes as fast as she could, while one of her hands played with his balls.

Cassie felt a shudder pass through first Jason and then Ned. Cassie uttered a gasp as Jason throbbed against the sides of her tunnel. In the same breath, her mouth was flooded with Ned's hot seed.

Cassie closed her eyes and arched her back as her pussy strained for another second before letting go. Her hips jerked hard, and her lips and tongue clamped around Ned's still pulsing cock. In that moment, she could forget all her worries, pushed aside by the bright euphoria of sexual ecstasy reverberating through her mind and along the link. She felt the others, even Melinda, if only faintly. The joy of knowing for sure that all the Harbingers were still with them drove her climax longer even after Jason's began to wane.

She uttered a gurgling noise before drawing her mouth from Ned's cock long enough to swallow, opening her lips barely in time for his final spurts. A single drop rolled from the corner of her mouth and down her cheek as she milked his flagging shaft with her tongue, her pussy still throbbing even as Jason withdrew. Her hips writhed with the slow ebb of pleasure as she licked Ned's cock clean.

For the first time in a long while, sex had left her feeling energized rather than guilty. She felt more in control, as if she had the chance to grasp the reins again and not let herself be carried along. She hugged each of the boys in turn, whispering a quick "I love you," in Ned's ear. To both she said, "Thank for you being so wonderful to me. Now, let's get dressed and go talk with Mrs. Radson."

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