"Hi, this is Mike Hendon. I'm not available right now, but please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." BEEP.

Richie stood motionless, the receiver clutched in a hand already numb from the icy pre-dawn air. Wind whipped through the empty lot behind the phone kiosk, tossing dead leaves and small twigs around his feet and redoubling the morning chill. Overhead, twilight slowly retreated from the eastern skies.

He uttered a small sigh and hung up the phone. He told himself he did not want to settle for voice mail after feeling like he had finally worked up the courage to talk to his father.

You're such a bad liar.

Richie closed his eyes and leaned his back against the side of the kiosk. His foot brushed against the front wheel of his bike and sent it falling to the ground, having been precariously balanced against a hydrant. Richie looked at it with disinterest.

He rubbed his eyes and cursed when he could barely feel his face. He turned away from the next gust of wind and thrust his hands into his pockets. He had barely slept that night. He had given up around six and sneaked out of the house to ride around on his bike. He had been drawn to the phone kiosk as soon as he had spotted it.

Fucking coward. Probably wouldn't want to talk to you anyway.

Richie let out a slow sigh. The words hardly moved him anymore. The day before, after his run-in with Jason, those words and worse had sounded in his head, growing louder until he swore he would go deaf. He had excused himself from class to use the bathroom and spent almost the rest of the period holed up in a toilet stall both wanting to cry and trying not to. Only when he had agreed with all the biting insults and terrible accusations had it mercifully stopped.

This was the man with whom he wanted to speak.

He closed his eyes as his hand curled around the already tattered post-it note. It did not matter if the paper disintegrated; he had stared at it so many times in the late hours of failed slumber that he had memorized it.

Why did he want to do it? After all the horrible things his father had already said in his head, why did he need to hear it all again? He already knew his father believed he had totally fucked up his and his mother's life. He had multiple chances to get it right and had blown it every time.

Richie pushed himself from the kiosk and kicked a large twig. It spun around a few times before growing still. Another gust of wind rotated the twig until it pointed back at Richie, as if it were a finger of accusation from nature itself.

Richie looked up at the brightening skies. He picked up his bike and hesitated before mounting it. Every time he had ridden his bike recently, he had imagined the devil at his back. Now he felt as if that same devil were hiding nearby, laughing at him, as if he were not even worth the trouble anymore.

He mounted his bike and sped away, his thoughts as frozen as the air.

Jason stared at his dead computer and uttered a forlorn sigh as he donned his shirt. He had not realized how much of his life revolved around it. Prior to the journal, almost every waking moment not spent in school, at meals, or having sex were spent in front of that machine. In a way, he felt like he had lost a friend.

He finished dressing and hauled his backpack onto the bed, then stared at it as if unsure of what to do. He had thought the Inn would be the most difficult thing he had ever faced in his life. Now that he had faced it, it was no longer an unknown. What loomed larger was facing the other Harbingers. He was sure he would be scrutinized for any sign of the Darkness.

He looked down at himself and saw no Aura. According to Melinda and Heather, one could indeed see it on oneself. Whether one would care would be the real measure of how far one had fallen, he imagined.

Not that he had been unaffected. His dreams had been filled with erotic imagery centered around Cindy. He had awoken from one in the middle of the night with an erection which would not cease. He had been forced to masturbate himself to orgasm while struggling not to think about Cindy kneeling before him happily sucking his cock.

Jason felt a renewed stirring in his loins while recalling the dream. He raced into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Could he already have an Aura but some part of his mind refused to see it? Or was he having a normal reaction? He had never stopped to think if being aroused by the idea of a girl acting as his sex slave was "okay" if he did not really want to enslave anyone.

He wished he could go back in time to all those moments when he had willingly influenced people like Melinda or Heather into sex, even if at their request or with their tacit approval. Maybe if he had never gone through with it, it would be easier to resist Stacy's influence. He and Melinda should never have tried any of the spells in the Book. Perhaps they had left a sort of corrupting influence which Stacy could exploit.

"Jason, you're going to miss the bus," came his mother's voice from downstairs.

Jason drew back from the mirror and sighed. Not even the voice was really his mother's anymore. It just happened to come from someone who looked superficially like his mother.

He bolted out of the bathroom and grabbed his backpack. "I'm headed out now!" He was almost at the threshold of the door when his father suddenly stepped into view. "Dad, I'm going to be late, what is it?" Jason said in a testy voice.

"No, you're not," Henry said. "Your mother always calls you down ten minutes before it's scheduled to arrive. At least that part of your mother is still the same."

"Then maybe I just don't want to talk to you."

Henry hesitated, then uttered a short sigh. "Maybe I deserved that. You probably thought I had abandoned you last night."

His father had not come home the night before until well after dinner. Jason shook his head. "No, I just figured you were going back to business as usual."

Jason had not said it with the intent to convey accusation, yet Henry's eyebrows rose slightly. "I may have deserved that as well. Taking off all that extra time caught up with me."

"I figured as much. But what's your point?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

Jason felt he was going to have a hard enough time dealing with his friends; he did not need this as well. "Do I sound okay? Do I look okay to you?"

Henry's eyes flicked over his son. "I can't see the same thing you can see on people who are ... affected. Of course, if you even admit you can see anything, that is."

"Sometimes mundane senses can tell you a lot more than extraordinary ones. You didn't need anything special to see something was wrong with Mom."

"Jason?" Audrey's voice called from below. Jason heard footsteps, and then her mother spoke from the bottom of the stairs. "Henry, what are you doing? He needs to get to school, and you need to get to the office."

"She wants me to go to the office," Henry said in a dry voice. "If nothing else up to this point had told me something was wrong--"

"I'll be done in a minute, Mom!" Jason called out. "Dad, can this wait, please?"

Henry glanced down the hall and leaned over the threshold. He dropped his voice to a near whisper. "Jason, listen to me: if Audrey does anything inappropriate with you--"

"What do you mean?"

Henry frowned. "Stop being obtuse. It should be obvious what I mean. If it happens, I want you to tell me right away."

Jason thought back to the previous morning, when his mother had kissed him in a most non-motherly way. Only now did he realize his intent of sparing his mother might come to naught. If he fell far enough to the Darkness' influence, he might initiate a sexual tryst himself.

"Dad, to be honest ... if things go bad, you may have to protect her from me."

Henry gave him a level look. "What do they have you doing there?"

"I can't go into it right now. I really need to get going. This day is going to be hard enough as it is, and you're not making it any easier."

Without waiting for a response, he barreled towards the door. His father side-stepped out of the way as Jason blew past, his backpack nearly smacking his father in the chest as he turned into the hallway.

At the top of the stairs, Jason paused and looked down. His mother leaned on the banister, letting her breasts dangle against her house dress. She thrust her rear out and crossed one ankle over the other. Her lips curled into a sultry smile.

Jason heard footsteps behind him, and his father cleared his throat. "Audrey."

"Yes, dear?" Audrey replied without taking her eyes from Jason.

"Do you always greet your son in the morning by standing like a hooker waiting for her next john?"

After taking a second to convince himself he had heard his father correctly, Jason braced for the heated response. Instead, she paused, then slowly straightened and stepped to the side, folding her hands before her. Her eyes remained fixed on him with the same smoldering look he had seen the morning before. He descended the stairs, his father following just two stairs behind.

As Jason stepped off the last stair, Audrey's eyes flicked to his crotch for a moment, and one corner of her mouth rose. "Did you have pleasant dreams last night?"

He envisioned Cindy again on her knees. The thought flitted in and out of his consciousness like a hidden frame in a movie, and his cock twitched and swelled. He stepped past his mother without another word, and by the time he had reached the front door, his cock was erect once more.

Melinda shivered in the early morning cold as she stood in uneasy silence at the curb. Ever since the evening before, Heather had barely spoken to her. She suspected something was on her sister's mind, but she knew any attempt to wheedle it out would erupt into an argument. She feared it would devolve into accusations of abandonment despite knowing full well she was the one who had told Heather to leave.

Melinda shifted her weight as the cold shot up her pant legs and blew over her bare mound. Even that could not numb the lingering ache. The night before, Aunt Jo had pounded the dildo into her and had left her just short of orgasm, then had her "pay" for the pleasure she had just received by licking her aunt to climax. Even when she had been allowed to cum, she had to lick her mother's pussy next.

Even as she frowned in indignation and disgust at the memory, her pussy tingled and buzzed in anticipation of more. She refused to believe her mother had enlisted Aunt Jo just to avoid doing this herself.

The bus pulled to the curb, and her heart leapt into her throat. Her eyes shimmered as the doors opened and her gaze fell on Jason. She let out a ragged sigh. "No Aura," she whispered as she bound up the stairs, yet she hesitated just short of claiming the empty seat next to him.

"I'm all right so far, Melinda," Jason said in a tired voice.

Melinda forced a small smile and fell into the seat. She threw an arm around him and drew him close. "Maybe it's not going to be so bad, then," she whispered into his ear.

He said nothing in response. Melinda was about to repeat her statement as a question when Heather spoke up. "Jason, I need to talk to you about something."

"So you do have something on your mind," Melinda piped. "What is it?"

"I don't want to discuss it with you yet."

"Get bent, Heather. I'm not going to let you keep any secrets from--"

"If this has anything to do with the Harbingers," Jason said. "Then you shouldn't discuss it with me."

"Well, I don't know if it does or not," Heather said. "But why can't we discuss anything with you?"

"Get a clue, Heather," Richie grunted. "If the Dark bitch gets into his head, you want him spilling everything about what we're doing?"

"So I can't even tell him what we talked about at the meeting yesterday?"

"Especially not that," said Jason. "Don't tell me anything. It's safer that way. In fact ... um ..." He paused and gave Melinda an apologetic look. "Maybe you guys should think about sitting away from me on the bus."

"Don't say that!" Melinda cried, her arm tightening around him. "You don't even have an Aura, not even a tiny bit."

"I resisted their initial attempt," Jason said in a lower and quavering voice. "But it was really hard. Stacy Missen, the owner of the Inn, is ... I guess you could say bonded to the Inn, maybe similar to the way Mara was bound to the House." Melinda felt him suddenly shiver violently. "I could hear her voice in my head no matter where in the Inn she was."

"Just don't listen to it," Melinda said, her voice edged with desperation. "Just ignore it. Don't do what it says."

Jason let out a ragged sigh. "It's just like what Elizabeth wrote in her journal. It preys on every weakness, every dark fantasy. It wants to make me dominate others."

"What the fuck?!" Richie exclaimed with such vehemence that Melinda flinched. She leaned forward, and her eyes widened when she glimpsed his fear before it was masked by anger. "You can't let them do that to you!"

"Richie, the whole point of my concern is that I won't be able to stop them," Jason said in a exasperated voice. "All of you, please listen to me. Don't take any chances. Don't make me privy to anything you're doing. Don't ..." He paused and gave Melinda a pained look. "Don't associate with me too closely."

Melinda swallowed, her eyes shimmering. "D-don't say that," she uttered in a choked voice.

Jason sighed and hugged her. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but you least of all."

"But you're the only ... you ..." Melinda bit her lip hard to staunch the flow of words. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. She was losing her only anchor, her last solace from the torture that her home life had become. She felt everything she ever loved was being ripped away from her one by one.

"This is fucking stupid," Richie declared. "Nobody's smart enough to beat the nerd-brain. You have more IQ points than everyone else in the fucking Inn put together."

Melinda thought she could not hear anything which could disturb her further, but the desperate edge to Richie's voice had managed it. Her heart lurched when Jason clasped Richie's shoulder and said, "Let's hope you're right."

Though Melinda heard anything but hope in Jason's voice.

Ned was halfway down the stairs by the time the limo sounded its horn the second time, clutching his shabby book-bag to his chest. A corner of the manila folder containing the journal poked through a separating seam. He did not trust leaving the journal home. Ever since he had started seeing Cassie, he found evidence that his parents were searching his room, probably looking for expensive trinkets to pawn.

His father had all but admitted to his attempted thievery one evening when he complained, "Think that rich bitch would be appreciative enough ta share some of her goddamn money with ya."

He raced out the door and found Cassie waiting for him at the end of the walk. She hugged him and hooked her arm into his. "Harry, we're five minutes ahead of schedule. I would like to walk with my boyfriend for a little while before we head to school."

Ned smirked at the way Cassie faintly emphasized the word "boyfriend."

"The air is quite chilly this morning, Miss Kendell," said Harry.

"And, amazingly, I manage to keep warm through the miracle of modern clothing technology."

Ned bit his knuckle to stop from sniggering. He heard a sigh from inside the limo. "Very well, Miss Kendell."

"And do not creep along the street with us. I will be going only as far as the end of the block and back."

Harry did not respond, but Ned heard another resigned sigh. Cassie hurried them down the sidewalk a few car lengths before she slowed to a more leisurely pace. "I didn't want him overhearing us, Ned," Cassie said.

"I hear ya. Got some new revelation 'bout yer parents?"

She squeezed his arm. "I had one the other night, but ... but I have to put that on hold for now. I have more important things to worry about."

"So ya didn't go playin' footsie in yer parents' heads last night?"

"No, I ... I actually spent my time in your head. You, Diane, and ... and Mrs. Radson." She sighed. "I feel like such a mental peeping Tom now. I never really stopped to think about how I was violating so many people's privacy all this time."

"Ya know I never have problems with ya tip-toeing through my mental tulips. I didn't have no dreams 'bout ya last night, though."

"I did only the stuff I could always do, which is see your memories and your dreams. I didn't interact. I feel like it's my responsibility to make sure you're all safe."

"What about Jason and the rest of his motley crew in that neck of the Haven woods?"

"I still have trouble getting to them," said Cassie. "The corrupted line energy is interfering too much." She glanced at his book-bag. "When I was visiting your psyche, I saw you reading the journal."

"Ayep," Ned said with a small sigh. "I read all the entries Jason had marked that had ta do with Lizzie's mighty mental management breakthrough. It's like watchin' a drama and havin' it be someone's dream in the end."

"Did you find anything else?"

"It was kinda late when I got done with 'em, so the ol' noggin mighta been runnin' on empty, but I didn't see no code. But I figger if she did code something, it would be in the pages after. I did notice something funny, though, but it may be nothin'."

"No, every little detail might matter, Ned. What is it?"

"The last two entries bugged me, an' not jus' cuz she pulled the rug out from under us," Ned said. "The next-ta-last entry seemed ta end in the middle of a sentence. The last entry begins at the top of the next page and there's a week gap between 'em."

"You think some pages are missing?" Cassie said.

Ned heard the excitement in her voice, but he shook his head. "Nah, 'cuz the next-ta-last entry says she's gone off ta the ol' tavern ta confront the grand poobah of evil. But the next page where she says it was all a sham is usin' a different brand of paper. It's prolly nothin' since she's done that before. Hell, I don't bother lookin' at the brand name when I buy school supplies. I got binders with three different styles of looseleaf in 'em."

"Well, it might be something."

Ned heard the disappointment in her voice despite her attempt to suppress it. He pulled her closer and gave her a quick hug. "I'm gonna keep at it til I find something."

Cassie nodded, looking troubled. She paused as they reached the intersection and closed her eyes. "I'm starting to sense the others. They must be riding the school bus, and it's pulling far enough away from the line."

"They doin' okay?"

Cassie opened her eyes. "They're not exactly very chipper at the moment, but they seem okay. I'm not feeling any sort of taint from Jason yet."

"Taint?"

"When I sense the emotions of people under the influence of the Darkness, it's like there's something off about it. It's sort of like biting into something you expect to taste sweet but it has a really faint sour taste as well. I don't sense anything like that from Jason."

"Mebbe it's gonna be all right after all," Ned said with a small, forced smile as they headed back to the limo.

Cassie's lips twitched but did not quite make it. Ned thought she likely sensed he did not quite believe his own words. Instead, he felt they were in the calm before the storm, and the others were relying on him to provide the shelter. He had been gung ho to help the Harbingers, and now he had gotten more than he had ever bargained for.

Ned understood now how Jason must have felt for the past month.

Diane was already disappointed that Heather had not tried to contact her the day before, so it did not help that the moment she stepped off the bus she heard Heather and Melinda from across the parking lot shouting at each other.

"What the fuck, Heather?! You can talk to Jason about something but you can't talk to me?"

"Melinda, calm down! I'll tell you about it when I know more, okay?"

Diane took a deep breath and let it go as a slightly quavering sigh. She tried not to be angry with Melinda, but she felt cheated out of her moment. That afternoon would be the first time she and Heather would have a chance for some intimacy, and Diane had managed to work up the courage to talk to Heather about her concern. Waiting until they were alone would be too late; she was sure she would be too caught up in the moment to risk ruining it with her petty needs.

"Jason said we shouldn't keep anything from each other," said Melinda. "That we share everything we know with each other."

"This isn't about the Harbingers, you midget," grumbled Heather.

"But you said it might have to do with us on the bus!"

"I didn't ... I meant ... dammit, Melinda, stop missing the fucking point."

"The only point here is the one on your head."

"Oh, yeah, real mature, runt."

"I just meant ... I didn't mean ..."

Melinda's stumble gave Diane an opening just long enough to come alongside Heather and share a hug. Heather returned it and said in a contrite voice, "Diane, I'm really sorry I didn't call you yesterday, but something came up."

"Yeah, something she won't tell me about!" Melinda piped. "Bet you'll tell her."

Heather turned towards her little sister, keeping one arm wrapped around Diane's waist. "Melinda, just drop it, okay?"

"No, it's not okay!"

"Shit, give it a goddamn rest, pipsqueak," Richie said. "You're giving me a fucking headache."

"Fuck you, Richie," Melinda snapped. She narrowed her eyes on Heather. "This is about Mom, isn't it?"

Diane felt Heather flinch slightly and knew at once Melinda had hit the nail on the head. Heather had a habit of making that gesture whenever someone guessed something she was thinking which she did not want to reveal. The gesture was hard to see but easy to feel. She had discovered it the first time Heather had returned from her first full week of servitude to Laura Bendon. It had helped Diane coax Heather into venting some of her feelings of frustration and betrayal.

Diane understood the opportunity she had missed weeks ago; had she pressed her concerns then, it would have had the right context. Heather could have been made to see what Laura was doing to her. Sometimes Diane missed the more aggressive and demanding Heather, the one who wanted attention lavished on her instead of the other way around.

"I didn't say that," Heather said.

"But you're not not saying it," Melinda said in a shrill voice. "What is it?"

Heather uttered an exasperated sigh. "I promise, I absolutely promise I will tell you when I know more." Diane felt Heather's arm tighten. "Please, Melinda, cut me a little slack. I'm trying to help. You've been trying to act more mature, right? Well this is an opportunity."

Melinda frowned, not looking particularly mollified, but at least she had stopped yelling. Diane remembered the days when Melinda would carry on and on regardless of whether she even had a point to her tirade. Melinda had matured; Diane scarcely believed this was the same girl she and Heather used to ride so hard.

"I just don't like people keeping things from me," Melinda said in a sullen voice.

"It wouldn't help what you're going through with Aunt Jo," said Heather in a heavy voice.

Melinda nodded but let out a despondent sigh. "But you said it could help something, right? You said you're just trying to help, so that implies this is going to help."

Heather hesitated, and Diane saw on her face that she was reaching for the right words and coming up empty. "Um, where's Jason?" Diane said a little louder than she intended. "I mean, is he okay? Did he not come on the bus with you?"

"Yeah, he came with us," Richie grumbled, though he looked relieved at the change of topic. "He went straight on into school."

"Why?"

"He can't be involved with Harbinger stuff anymore, Diane," Heather explained. "Not if he's having his head messed with."

"Your head is being messed with and you're still here," Melinda snapped.

Diane looked at Melinda in shock, though she realized Melinda had simply pointed out the elephant in the room. They were indeed taking a risk leaving Heather involved, even if only every other week. The reasoning behind it was flimsy: Laura was concerned largely with her own agenda and did not want to give up any power or influence to the Darkness. Laura was canny enough to know she could act as she pleased so long as she did not draw too much attention to herself, at least until the Darkness had the power to enforce its will on her. Laura was not about to hand it anything which would give it more of that power.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," Melinda said in a small voice.

Heather uttered a forlorn sigh. Diane gave Heather a sympathetic look and slid an arm around her waist. Jason had not been the only one to admit to worry over influencing the other Harbingers. "It's all right, Melinda, forget it," Heather said.

"We're talking about Jason, anyway," Melinda said. "He didn't have an Aura. He's resisting whatever they're doing to him."

"For now."

Diane saw the indignant look return to Melinda's face, and Diane tried again to head off a renewal of the debate. "Look, here come Cassie and Ned."

Cassie jogged up to them, but slowed as her eyes flitted between her fellow Harbingers. "Jason? Is he--?"

"He went inside, that's all," Heather said.

Cassie looked perplexed for only a moment. "Yes, of course, that makes sense, he can't ..." She trailed off, looking troubled. She took a deep breath and let it go as a quavering sigh. "Anyway ... um ... I don't have much for you all."

"I'm still lookin' at the Good Witch of the West's journal," Ned drawled. "Nothin' yet."

Melinda uttered a dramatic sigh. "That figures."

"He's only had it for a day, Melinda," Cassie said with a trace of irritation to her voice. "I'm sorry I don't have anything else."

"Are we meeting after school at Mrs. Radson's place?" Heather asked.

"No, not if there's nothing else to discuss." Cassie looked at Heather and Diane. "I think we all need some time to ourselves this afternoon."

Diane gave Cassie a smile of appreciation and felt Heather's arm tighten briefly.

"Yeah, an' I'll have more time ta go trawlin' through ol' Lizzie's enchantin' words," Ned drawled.

"So can we go inside? It's fucking freezing out here," Richie muttered.

"And you always yell at me for complaining about the cold," Melinda sneered.

"Yeah, and I don't know why, since it should be warm as the fucking tropics from all your hot air."

"Get bent, Richie," Melinda muttered as she barreled past him and towards the school steps.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't such a good fuck. See ya all in the ... see you all later."

Diane had not made any note of Richie's verbal stumble, thus she wondered why Cassie appeared alarmed as she watched Richie head inside.

"Um ... we better all get inside," Cassie said. She glanced at the others as if in apology and headed towards the school, Ned trotting along beside her.

Diane moved to follow, but Heather's arm held her waist.

"Diane, I really am sorry for not even calling you yesterday," Heather said. "I really want to make it up to you."

Diane saw the desirous look in Heather's eyes and felt her pussy tingle in response despite her misgivings. She let out a breath as a slow sigh. "It feels like ages since we've been together," Diane said in a low voice as Heather drew her closer.

"Do you think Mrs. Radson would let us use the room at her house after you and her are done?" She must have seen the doubtful look on Diane's face, for she added quickly, "She let us use it before you started these lessons, so I don't see why she wouldn't now."

"Oh, it's not that, Heather. She even said you could come over. It's ... well, Mrs. Radson has to, um, stimulate me. To generate the sexual energy."

Heather gave her a sultry smile. "I think I can get you excited again. Then I'll show you just how much I appreciate you."

Heather drew her into an embrace. I wish you would let me do the same for you, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

Mike slammed the door to the cab of his rig and trudged towards the convenience store on the other side of the truck stop. He wiped his face and shook his head to rid himself of the lingering grogginess of another restless night. He arched his back to the sound of several snaps and cracks.

His breath fogged the air as he headed towards the store. Overhead, cars roared on the interstate. He skipped around splotches of ice, almost hoping to take a fall just so he would have an excuse to cut short his hours that day. He used to prefer riding as long and as hard as possible, as it occupied his mind so it would not wander to the past he wished had not happened and a present he could never have.

Now not even that helped. He spent the miles wondering what was happening with his son, or kicking himself for not seeing the collapse of his marriage long before it was too late to do anything about it.

Mike bought the biggest container of the blackest coffee they had. It looked like motor oil and tasted not much better, yet a few sips had chased away the remaining cobwebs from his mind, and he felt he could face a busy morning interstate again.

He had started climbing into his rig when his cell phone warbled. He stepped back down and muttered a curse when the impact spilled burning coffee over his hand. He whipped out the cell phone and opened it without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah, what the fuck do you want?" He uttered a long sigh and seated himself on the first step into the cab. "Yeah, Harve, hi. Sorry, I'm not exactly all flowers and sunshine when I first wake up. What's up?"

Mike lifted the coffee to his lips, but paused just before taking a sip. "What? Why the hell do you want me to take that route? Isn't that Dan's route?"

He put down the cup and frowned. "Like fucking hell you do. You never felt the need to rotate the drivers like some fucking merry-go-round."

His eyebrows rose. "Yeah, and I know who suggested it. Take a look at the fucking map, Harve. What does that route go near? No way in hell I'm doing that."

Mike clenched a hand into a fist and pounded it once against his thigh. "No. I am not taking that route. Go ahead and threaten to fire me if you want, but you know you won't go through with it. I'm one of your best goddamn drivers. I took this job to get away from the shit that went on there."

Mike looked ready to explode again, but instead uttered a slow sigh and picked up his coffee. "All right, Harve, yeah, I know, you're just thinking of me. I know you trust his judgment, but really, I'm better off staying the fuck away from that place. Sorry I got so sore with you. Yeah. Okay, I'll call you once I get off the road but it won't be 'til late. I want to get through Montana by sunset. See ya, Harve."

Mike let out a curse and flattened his back against the side of the rig for a moment. He was about to put his cell phone away when he noticed the message icon was flashing.

He thumbed the buttons and connected to his voice mail. He had one message, and the number was again familiar but not recognized. He sighed and brought the cell phone to his ear.

"You have one message," intoned the voice mail service. "First message:"

Mike resisted the urge to say "is anyone there" when he heard nothing but silence followed by what sounded like an exhaled breath. "Goddamn this shit," Mike muttered and was about to delete the voice mail when his eyes narrowed on the phone number.

"What the fuck?" he said in a low voice. He thumbed through the most recent call list. All of his mysterious calls were from the same area code and exchange, and now he realized what was familiar about them.

They were all from Haven.

Mike gripped the phone hard as a chill far colder than the wintry air settled into his bones. He put down the coffee, his hand shaking too much to drink it properly. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the numbers in mounting dread even as he wanted to demand of himself what the hell frightened him so.

He finally snapped the phone shut and shoved it deep into his pocket. He bolted to his feet and paced the length of his rig twice.

"This is insane," Mike muttered. "What the hell am I thinking, that a fucking town is trying to call me? This isn't some fucking Stephen King novel!"

He paced another few lengths until he could convince himself that Harvey's call had been coincidence and not part of some scheme to lure him back to Haven by whatever evil still lurked there. The fact that he still believed such a thing existed grated on both his sensibilities and his conscience. Yeah, I got a lot a right complaining, he thought. I'm the one who left a son behind to that thing.

He yanked out the cell phone and looked at the phone numbers again. Unless that was what it wanted him to think. Unless this was just some stupid prank to make him lose what little of his sanity he had managed to preserve. Perhaps it still thought he was a loose end which needed to be tied up.

It explained all his strange dreams and bizarre thoughts of late. Only the night before had he realized that he had been convinced for only God knew how long that he was glad Richie and his friends had become friends with Debby Radson. He did not recall having ever met the woman, yet he could recall her in every detail, down to the sound of her voice and the color of her eyes.

He could also recall seeing a lot more of her than he ever thought anyone other than her husband should.

"Yeah, I'm on to your shit, you bitch," Mike muttered as he added each of the Haven phone numbers to his blocked caller list. He put his phone away and closed his eyes long enough to let out a long, windy sigh. He scooped up his coffee and climbed into his rig. With a roar and a belch of black smoke, his rig rolled away from the rest area and crawled up the on-ramp to the interstate.

He did stop to think why he was suddenly convinced that the evil he had once referred to as "it" was female.

Melinda dashed out of her class just as her sister passed. Melinda jogged to catch up, ducking between students passing the other way. "Hey, Heather, wait up!"

Heather glanced behind her and did not slow down. "Melinda, I don't have time for any more of your temper tantrums."

Melinda frowned and bit back a retort. She caught up and trotted alongside her sister. "I'm not going to do anything like that, okay?" she said in a sharper voice than she had intended. She uttered a short sigh and forced her voice to a less confrontational tone. "But I really wish you would tell me what this thing is about Mom."

Heather did not respond as she stopped at her locker.

"Does it have anything to do with Jason?" Melinda asked in a quavering voice. "Is she ... d-doing something with him?"

Heather dialed the combination to her locker and opened it before she let out a quick sigh. "No, it's not that. Mom's going to be driving him home from the Inn, but that's all."

"How can you be sure about that?"

Heather thumped her fist against the door. "I can't, runt. I thought you wanted to talk about what I found."

"But you're not talking about it."

"Finally, you figured it out. Good for you."

Melinda frowned. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I know you too well. Look how you went off on how Mom was doing something with Jason when I didn't even mention anything about it."

Melinda rolled her eyes but her tone was more contrite when she spoke again. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry, I'm just worried about him."

"I know, we all are," Heather said in a softer voice. "Really, this doesn't have anything to do with him, but at the same time, I don't want you jumping to conclusions."

"You better not be going off on that idea of Mom protecting us again!"

Heather turned to face her little sister. "What if I am? Why are you so intent on hating her?"

Melinda did not respond at first. She knew the real reason: her mother was a convenient target. Hating the Darkness did nothing, for it was intangible and unfathomable. It had no body and no emotional presence. Her mother was something she could understand.

"How can I not?" Melinda replied. "After she--"

"No, not again. I've heard the whole list before."

"Then why don't you hate her?"

Heather turned to her locker to finish exchanging her books and slammed it shut. "Maybe sometimes I do," she said in a low voice. She shook her head. "I used to. I used to hate her with as much passion as you seem to do now."

"Then why don't you now?"

"Fuck, Melinda, listen to you! It's like you want my approval or something for your hate. That's sick."

Fury rose in Melinda like a volcano, but she could not unleash it against her sister, as if Heather's words had rattled her enough to cast doubt on her own beliefs. She let out a frustrated sigh and stamped her foot, then silently cursed herself for displaying a typical immature response. "So is that it, Heather?" she asked in a quavering voice. "This thing you found is going to prove she was trying to protect us?"

Heather paused, and her gaze softened. "I sure as hell hope so. But I need Richie's help, and I'm not sure where to start."

Melinda wanted to shout that Heather was insane to even consider this. Without Jason to ground her, she had little else but her hatred to sustain her and prevent her from falling into an emotional abyss from which she would never climb out.

She considered the other possibility, that Heather would confirm that their mother acted out of her own interest or stupidity. She would have justification for her rage and could hold onto that for longer, at least until she realized that it eliminated any possible hope she could escape an adult life as a sex slave.

"Just tell me what you find out," Melinda said. "No matter what it is. I deserve to know."

"I know you do," said Heather. "I did promise you. I don't go back on my promises to you anymore. But I'll be real blunt with you, Melinda. I am not looking forward to telling you what I find out, regardless of what it is."

Melinda suppressed her initial indignant response. She thought about both possibilities, envisioning her reaction. She came to an important realization, one as sobering as it was disturbing. "I don't think it will really matter one way or the other, Heather."

Heather frowned. "What are you talking about now?"

"Because, however it happened, I doubt I could ever, ever forgive her for what she did!" Melinda spun around in place, her hair slapping against Heather's arm. She fled down the hallway, letting her suppressed fury burn in her eyes until she made it to her next class.

Richie lingered in the side hallway again as he had done the day before, as if he felt the need to replay the events of the past and hope they came out better. This time, instead of waiting in the shadows when Jason passed, he stepped out into the main corridor.

Jason stopped. "You're not going to beat up my locker or me again, are you?"

Richie thought he had heard an undertone of humor in his friend's voice, or he chose to believe it was there. "Nah, man, it's cool."

Jason nodded and his lips briefly twitched into a small smile before he sped towards his locker. "I don't have a lot of time, I have to get going to ... well, you know."

Richie nodded and thrust his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the lockers. "Hey, um, listen, I never thanked you for puttin' in a good word with Seeger yesterday."

"Don't worry about it. I'd rather just forget yesterday ever happened."

"I'm making good on what you told me. I'm helping Heather with--"

"Don't tell me!" Jason suddenly cried.

"Oh," Richie said in a sheepish voice. "Yeah. Right. Sorry."

Jason sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather none of you associated with me. I really wish either I or the rest of you could find a different way to get to school."

"Aw, come on, what could happen on the bus, huh?" Richie said, but it did not take someone of Jason's intellect to guess at any number of things someone bent on dominating others could do in the confines of a school bus with a driver who paid little heed to what his passengers were doing.

Jason turned towards Richie. "In fact, I want to ask a favor of you."

"Name it, dude," Richie said.

"I want you to promise that if I do start pulling shit on the others in the bus, you'll stop it."

Richie's eyes widened. "What, you mean like shield the others and all that shit? I can do it for myself at home but I don't know how to do it for other people."

"Use whatever means necessary." Jason paused. "Beat me up if you have to."

"Are you fucking nuts?!"

"I'm dead serious, Richie. I would rather have a broken arm than hurt anyone, especially Melinda. You see me trying to do anything to anyone, you slap me down hard."

"You're not ... dude, I ..."

"Please, I need you to promise me you'll do it."

Richie stared at his friend. His mind reeled, caught in a battle between what he had been told was the right thing to do and what Jason was telling him now. Each time he thought he understood the game, the rules changed again.

(Don't be a dick)

A simple directive, one which should be easy to follow, had become his mantra. Now he realized he did not know what it really meant.

"You see me trying to influence any of the Harbingers, you do whatever it takes to stop me," Jason said in a voice edged with impatience and anxiety. "If you get in trouble with Seeger, talk to Cassie and she'll talk to him. Please, I'm begging you."

"A-all right, already! All right!" Richie cried, throwing up his hands. "I promise."

Jason let out a relieved sigh. He clasped Richie's shoulder, his eyes clouded. "I knew I could always count on you in the end."

"Just try not to make me have to live up to it, okay? Go kick their sorry asses at the Inn."

Jason gave him a wan smile. "I'll try, Richie, I really will." He closed his locker and stared at it as if in contemplation. He looked at the combination lock as if realizing he had forgotten something, but turned away and looked at Richie one last time. "Well ... see you tomorrow."

Richie wanted to say something in return, but nothing seemed adequate. Jason cast a lingering gaze at him before heading off towards the west wing of the school. "Shit," Richie muttered as he thumped a fist against the lockers. "I don't fucking know which end is up anymore."

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