Heather panted hard, her hips bucking against the seat belt, her legs squeezing around the backpack as if clamping around her unseen lover. She rode the phantom cock thrusting mercilessly into her wet pussy as the car turned off the street and pulled into the faculty parking lot.

"Uhng ... uhng ... uhng!" Heather moaned as her thigh muscles drew taut with her straining pussy. She tossed her head back, spreading her legs wide in anticipation of gushing forth in sweet climax. Instead, the cock withdrew and became an inert dildo once more, and she clung to the edge for another excruciating moment before easing back.

Her head lolled to one side, and her pussy ached in the wake of the retreating pleasure. She jerked forward as the car stopped in Laura's parking space but barely noticed they had arrived. Laura killed the engine, and then the only sound was Heather's ragged breathing.

Laura smiled and lay a hand against Heather's face, nudging her slave's head upright. Heather opened her eyes and gazed at her Mistress in both obedience and a silent plea.

"Was that fun for you, my slave?" Laura purred.

"Yes, Mistress," Heather said in a breathless voice.

"And so we're clear, this is your second day, not your third. I do not count Sunday since you wore it for only a few hours."

Heather gave her Mistress a forlorn look, but said not a word of protest. She squirmed as the pressure from the dildo kept her excited enough to make it impossible to ignore.

"You will never disobey me again after this," said Laura. "You will be so desperate and frantic for an orgasm after tomorrow that you will do whatever I want without question."

Heather uttered a quavering sigh. "Yes, Mistress."

"And what is it I want from you?"

"Y-you want Melinda," Heather moaned. "You want me to get Melinda for you."

"Keep that in mind, slave. Think about it each time you don't cum and how grateful you will be when I finally allow you release. So grateful that you will happily turn your sister over to me."

Heather moaned as her body seemed to operate of its own accord, grinding her hips into the seat in a vain effort to shove the dildo further inside. Her stimulation rose by a negligible amount, sinking her spirits further into the embrace of the icy tendrils of control in her mind.

She had no more resistance. Everything her Mistress said settled into her mind as if it had sprung from her own desires. The link to the Harbingers appeared as only so much mist, more dream than reality. What little energy it provided sparked impotently against the pall of her Mistress' power.

Laura turned towards the back seat. Only then did Heather hear the soft panting of Laura's pet Marcie, her hand thrust down under her slacks and panties, faint wet sounds rising between ticks of the cooling engine.

"Okay, my pet, time for another day of work," Laura said.

Marcie uttered a slow, contented sigh and pulled her hand out. She licked her fingers clean and smiled at her owner, rudimentary intelligence pooling back into her eyes. "Of course, Ms. Bendon, I simply love working for you," she said in a bright voice.

"Very good. Now go get my agenda together for today, Marcie."

"Right away, Ms. Bendon." She squirmed and added in a husky voice. "I just love doing what you tell me to do, Ms. Bendon."

"Good girl."

Marcie beamed, climbed out of the car, and dashed inside the school.

Laura turned to Heather. "Amazing. I took away every last bit of her will and personality, and she is far more useful to me at the office than she ever was before."

Heather shuddered. She and the other Harbingers were there when it happened. They had arrived during the paroxysms of the final orgasm which had swept away the remnants of Marcie's personality. Even if they somehow wrested Marcie from Laura's control, they would be left with an empty shell.

"That's what will happen to you if the Darkness gets to you first, slave," Laura said. "It will have no use for your personality. It will rip out what it doesn't want and turn you into a mindless sex toy."

Heather could not see the lie. Despite that her own mother was a pawn of the Darkness and obviously not mindless, she could not counter her Mistress' words. Her hips squirmed, unable to sit still, hot moisture sealed against her mound.

"And that's what will happen to Melinda if you leave her with your mother. She gave herself to it; she'll give her daughters to it as well."

Heather thought about the pendant and what she had seen at her mother's business. Aunt Jo had lied to her, she thought. Aunt Jo LIED ...

Laura sighed. "You still manage to resist me, even if just a bit. It won't matter. You'd do as I wish, whether it be because you understand it to be the best thing for Melinda given her choices, or because you no longer wish to be punished. Now let's get to school."

Heather was grateful to get out of the car. Standing lessened the impact of the panties against her mound when it was not active. She picked up her backpack and slung it across her shoulder before falling into step behind her Mistress.

She marched inside on Laura's heels, glancing at the other administrative staff. A few cast nervous glances at Laura, and she thought she saw at least one sympathetic look sent her way. Others looked on in confusion or wonder, likely questioning why a student arrived with the principal every day out of every other week.

Heather was distracted enough by their reactions that she nearly ran into her Mistress when she stopped just short of Marcie's desk. "Laura, I wish to speak with you for a moment."

Heather peeked around her Mistress. Seeger stood in their way.

Laura sighed. "Can this wait, please, Seymour? I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet."

"This is important," Seeger said in a stiff voice. He leaned to one side and looked at Heather. "Are you all right, Miss Sovert?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" Laura demanded in a curt voice before Heather could think of a reply. "And shouldn't you be at the east entrance glowering at the students as they arrive?"

"There is plenty of time for that." He glanced at Heather and folded his hands behind his back. "I intend to get right to the point."

Heather let out a despairing sigh. "Mr. Seeger, please don't--"

"Hush," Laura said.

Heather fell silent at once.

Seeger narrowed his eyes. "Interesting how easily you can command this particular student, Laura. One would almost think she simply couldn't resist you."

Oh shit, Heather thought. She squeezed her eyes shut as the dildo expanded into her pussy. God, not here, please. Why did he have to interfere?

"Really," Laura said in a dry voice. "Heather, go into my office and wait for me there."

Heather obeyed without question, stepping around her Mistress as Seeger said, "Now what is the purpose of that, Laura? She should go get ready for class."

"You are not the one to question me or my authority, Seymour."

"Furthermore, this is best conducted in your office and is not for her--"

"You insisted on a public confrontation to begin with, so we'll just continue," Laura declared. "Unless you're afraid of how you will sound to everyone else."

Heather slipped past Marcie's desk and into Laura's office. She started to close the door behind her and stopped when it was still open a crack. She closed her eyes and shuddered, her hips swaying to slow but deep thrusts of another unseen lover. She bit her lower lip hard to suppress a moan and put her ear to the crack. She heard a scrambling noise and a small gasp from Laura.

"Get your hand off my arm at once!" Laura hissed.

Heather's eyes widened, and she risked a peek. She caught Seeger lowering his hand from Laura's arm. They were no longer in the hall but hovering near Marcie's desk. "My apologies, but this is not for everyone's ears," Seeger said in a low and urgent voice. "I'm not going to mince words here, nor will I bother to explain them, so do not feign ignorance in a poor attempt to make me look the fool. I know exactly what you are doing with Miss Sovert, and I intend to see it come to an end."

Heather closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. She let out a ragged sigh, her hips bucking as her pleasure took another useless rise towards an orgasm which would not come.

"Really," was all Laura said in a flat voice as she folded her arms.

"And do not threaten me with forced early retirement or even termination, for I no longer care about my continued employment. I care only for the welfare of the students, and you, Laura, are a direct threat to that."

Heather's eyes opened wide, then narrowed to a squint as her hips pounded against the imaginary body of her once rejected freshman suitor. Her pussy rose to straining heights, and she had trouble focusing on the conversation, missing the first few words of her Mistress' reply. "--if I contact the board immediately and inform them of your vague and delusional threats."

"Do what you will, Laura," said Seeger. "The gears of bureaucracy turn slowly. Until then, I intend to stop you by any means necessary."

"If I place that call, Seymour, you will be gone by Monday. You underestimate my influence."

"Then I am gone! At least I will be able to say I tried and did not sit around doing nothing hoping others will fight my battles for me."

Heather whimpered. Her hips rocked so hard she nearly slammed the door shut. The bolt struck the plate, the metallic noise deafening to Heather's ears.

"This is beginning to bore me," sighed Laura. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? You, Seymour, are lacking two critical things: one, influence with the board, and two, proof. And in the case of item two, the statement of a student, or of more than one student will not be enough to overcome item one."

"Then I will seek sufficient proof."

"You have until Monday. After that, you will be gone. I have had it with you. You are a fossil who should have been relegated to a museum years ago. You--"

Heather backed away from the door. She fell into the chair before Laura's desk, slamming her hips against the seat as if riding her lover for all he was worth. Her pussy rose, strained, and fell back. She let out another distressed whimper as her hips dropped into the chair, panting as her pleasure continued its slow retreat, the ache of unrequited lust spreading through her pussy.

Laura burst into the room. She was about to close the door when she glanced at it and then Heather, narrowing her eyes. She let out a slow sigh through her nose as she closed the door and marched to her desk. "I suppose you overheard," she said in a dry voice as she sat down.

"Yes, Ms. Bendon," Heather said, having been carefully trained never to use the term "Mistress" at school.

"It is of little consequence. He was useless even before the semester began, and I am sure he is as equally useless to you and the Harbingers."

Heather said nothing. She had not been asked a direct question or ordered to do anything. She could choose not to reply.

"In fact, it is of so little consequence that I will not bother discovering how he found out about our 'arrangement.' Consider yourself fortunate, for I am confident I would have found another reason to punish you further. And, truth be told, I grow weary of sparring with him. I intend to have absolute control over this school, and he is the last remaining impediment to that." She gave Heather a sly smile. "Unless, of course, he finds this mysterious evidence of his. You will surely let me know if he ever approaches you asking for such a thing."

Heather nodded at once. "Yes, Ms. Bendon, of course I will," she heard herself say.

"I had hoped to have you please my pussy once more this morning, but that would make you late for class. So go."

"Yes, Ms. Bendon," Heather intoned. She stood, picked up her backpack, and headed out of the office.

She squirmed and uttered a deep sigh. She felt like she had single-handedly caused grief for everyone she knew. She wished they had heeded her warning and not tried to help.

Melinda made herself appear as small as possible, positioning herself in the middle of the Harbingers in the school parking lot. She avoided gazing beyond the bounds of that misshapen circle, lest she catch the eye of another boy and feel compelled to lift her skirt to show how slutty she was.

When she was not shivering from induced lust, she shivered from the cold. She doubted that it had climbed much out of the teens. Both fed back on each other in a vicious cycle. The biting chill made her legs quiver and rub against one another, which in turn induced another wave of heat until the cold air took hold once more.

She took one fleeting glance at the glowering form of Vice Principal Seeger standing near the entrance and let out a forlorn sigh. Aunt Jo's instructions had been very clear: she was not to flash anyone if a faculty member might see. She had come close the day before; a teacher had suddenly demanded to know what some of the boys had found so interesting, but none had the gumption to answer honestly.

"Thank you for warning us, Richie," Cassie said after Richie had finished explaining what had happened on the bus.

"So what does that mean?" Diane said in a hesitant voice. "Is he coming after me?"

"Yeah, that's what it looks like," Richie said.

"No, it doesn't," Melinda said.

"What the fuck, Melinda? You on a different bus or something this morning?"

"He was just asking questions about how she was doing. How the hell does that mean he's going after her?"

"I gotta admit, Melinda's got a point," said Ned. "If it was me, I woulda asked something that would tell me where Diane's gonna be so I could get her alone."

"But he was asking about Diane's power," Cassie said. "That worries me a little."

"It's not like we know anything about it," Melinda said. She added in a grumpy voice, "Not like anyone's told me a damn thing about what's going on."

"I'm really sorry about that, Melinda, I just had so many things on my mind yesterday that I forgot to fill you in. I promise I'll try to do that today."

Melinda nodded and remained quiet. She let out a quavering sigh and wondered if perhaps it was better she did not know, not if she still considering giving herself to Jason. Before she had left for school, she had stood before her Aunt Jo so she could be inspected and told how to act that day. Aunt Jo had commented, "This will be so much easier when I don't have to make the trip over here every morning."

To her that meant Aunt Jo was close to taking her away. Then she would be in no better a situation than Heather.

"So what do I do now?" Diane asked in a helpless voice.

"She'll be okay today at least," Richie said. "She's gonna be with me today."

"Oh?" Ned said. "Fer what?"

Diane and Richie exchanged a glance. "Um, it's something Heather wanted me to do," Diane said. "Something she started before she had to go back to Ms. Bendon."

Melinda's eyebrows rose.

"Heather had borrowed Jason's hacking folder," Cassie said in a cautious voice. "Does this have anything to do with that?"

"Wait, is this the thing about my mother that Heather wouldn't tell me about?" Melinda demanded.

Diane fidgeted before she replied, "Um, it might be, I'm not sure. I only know what Richie told me. I'm not sure how much I'm supposed to tell anyone else."

"We gotta stop havin' secrets," Ned said. "Jason hammered that inta us a long time ago. So fess up."

"I hate to ask anyone to break a confidence, but I think Ned's right," Cassie said. "Trying to fill Jason's shoes is hard enough without knowing what kind of danger everyone else is getting themselves into."

"It's not fucking dangerous," Richie said. "See, Heather got hold of some sorta pendant from her Mom--"

Melinda gasped. "Heather did take it! Mom grilled me about that the other day, but I didn't know anything about it."

"She said her Mom had it forever, and that she had some sort of business twenty years ago, like the Ghostbusters without the fancy equipment."

Melinda gaped at him. "She had a what?! You're not ... you can't be serious! She never told us anything like that! You're so full of it, Richie."

"Hey, I saw it with my own fucking eyes, pipsqueak."

"No, this is bullshit. You're saying my mother went around chasing spooks!"

"It wasn't quite like that," Diane said. "It was more an investigation service, like they were trying to find out of any of that stuff was even real."

"Yeah, and her bitch of a sister Jo was in it, too," Richie growled. "Fed her some crap about the thing with Stephanie being bogus."

"Whoa," Ned said.

Cassie shook her head. "Wait, this is going too fast for me."

"Richie and Heather saw some sort of meeting," Diane said. "It was 1985, about a month after everything happened to Stephanie. Jo told Penny -- Heather and Melinda's mother -- that she had investigated it herself and found nothing."

Melinda was almost too stunned to speak. "But ... but Aunt Jo was in Victor's cult," she said in a small voice.

"All the way back then?" Ned asked.

"Oh goodness!" Cassie cried. "It sounds like Heather is trying to find out how everything happened with her mother, how she got to be in the situation she's in now."

"Yeah, and that bitch Jo was feeding her shit from day one," Richie sneered.

Melinda shook her head but held her tongue. Even if Jo had somehow duped her mother in the past, it was the end result that mattered. Her mother was still doing nothing to protect them despite all of Heather's wishful thinking.

"We're going to be heading over to the abandoned church after school today," Diane said.

"You're insane," Melinda said in a shaky voice.

"Goodness, Diane, is that safe?" Cassie said.

"We kicked Victor's sorry ass out of town a month and a half ago," Richie said.

"More like he retreated, but, yeah, same diff I guess," said Ned.

"So he shouldn't be there anymore," Diane said, though the conviction in her voice sounded weak. "He only used it for the ceremony at Halloween."

"You're totally insane!" Melinda piped. "Both you and Richie!"

Diane looked about to say something to Melinda, but she uttered a frustrated sigh instead and cast a pleading gaze at the others.

"It'll be fine, pipsqueak," Richie said. "I can handle it."

"Not if there's a cult jamboree happenin' down there," Ned said.

"There won't be. Anyway, we can see them now, remember? They all got Auras now. We see a single Aura and we're outta there."

"I have to do this," Diane said. "Heather wants me to do this for her. Where she won't let me help her against Ms. Bendon, this is the least I can do."

"Okay, but I'm comin' along on this little jaunt," Ned drawled.

"Yes, Ned, please go with them," Cassie said. "I'd feel better about it."

"Though mebbe Diane could use her new whiz-bang power ta help out if we get party-crashers."

Diane's cheeks colored. "Um ... I don't think that would work, it only activates when I, uh, have an orgasm."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Diane's blush deepened, but Ned came to her rescue. "Nah, she just made that up fer yer titillation," Ned said in a sour voice. "Now, how 'bout we meet up just outside the old cemetery?"

"Yeah, that's cool," Richie said, and Diane nodded.

"You're just wasting your time," Melinda muttered. "What the fuck difference does any of this make?"

"Heather told me how much you hate your mother now," Diane said. "Maybe if you knew exactly how she--"

"I don't give a shit how it happened! Why does it matter? All I know is she has this fucking warped idea that giving away her daughters as sex slaves is somehow protecting them. No, Diane, she blew it and blew it big time. It doesn't matter how she got there, and I'm not wasting my time on this anymore."

She ran towards the school entrance, ignoring the entreating calls from Cassie.

Melinda fought back tears. Why couldn't they understand? Her life was going to be decided for her in less than a week. She might as well have been taken by the cult in Gina's place on Halloween, as the end result would be the same. Her future consisted of an ever-wet pussy and little else.

She dashed up the steps and pushed her way through the other students, grunting curses at them even as contact with the boys sent her lust into overdrive. By the time she reached the door, she was flushed with renewed desire, and only the overwhelming presence of Seeger stopped her from lifting her skirt.

"Miss Sovert."

Melinda skidded to a stop and whirled around. She simply looked up at him, no words coming to her. Her breath was a soft pant from both exertion and lust.

"Is everything all right?"

Melinda wanted to declare that no, absolutely nothing was all right. Everything was collapsing around her and all anyone cared about was finding out how it happened instead of focusing on how to stop it.

"Yes, it's fine, Mr. Seeger," Melinda said in a meek, if tense, voice. "Can I go now?"

"One moment." When the stream of students entering the school slowed, Seeger gestured for Melinda to step closer. "I try to give you and your Harbinger friends some additional leeway, Miss Sovert," he said in a low voice. "But I feel I must point out that your skirt is ... more revealing than is generally allowed at this school."

Melinda's eyebrows rose. "It is?"

"Yes, quite. I ask that you wear something longer tomorrow or I will be forced to reprimand you and possibly send you home. I cannot be seen to be playing favorites."

Melinda let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, Mr. Seeger, I'll tell my Aunt soon as I get home. Thank you!"

Seeger furrowed his brow. "Your Aunt? But does your mother not--"

Melinda had already disappeared into the school. Finally, Melinda thought as she walked to her locker. Things may be looking up.

Jason realized he would not need an elaborate scheme to get close enough to Diane to ask her a few questions; he needed only to rely on human nature, specifically Richie's.

He wondered what Cassie was thinking letting Richie remain in charge of anything remotely requiring either stealth or dedication. He had already come to terms with the fact that it had been a poor decision on his part to entrust Richie with the task of "protecting" the others from him. He looked on the bright side: now that he knew no one really needed any protection from him, he could rest a little easier that someone more efficient had not been dogging his heels.

Between classes that morning, Richie was always there, even if it meant a mad dash from the other side of the school only to arrive in time to see Jason stroll into his next class. Another example of Richie not taking the time to think. Had Richie done so, he would have realized that most of the Harbingers were on the same side of the school as he, and thus he needed only to stay where he was to offer sufficient "protection."

Jason arrived at his locker shortly after the bell rang for his lunch period. As he had predicted, Richie was nowhere to be seen. Richie had already bee-lined for the cafeteria, operating purely out of habit, reinforced by Jason's tendency to do the same.

Jason shoved his books into his locker and slipped into the crowd, finding a stream which would take him in the direction he wanted to go so he would not be delayed fighting against traffic. He had another psychological advantage: his self-imposed exile from the same lunch table as the other Harbingers meant they had grown accustomed to not seeing Jason at lunch.

He passed by the cafeteria, ducking his head when he saw Cassie and Ned walking inside. Still no Richie; he was likely inside, perhaps already at the table chowing down. He's so predictable, Jason thought with wry amusement.

He advanced further down the corridor and took a peek behind him. The coast was clear. He emerged from the crowd and dashed the final length of lockers, sidling up before he could be noticed. "Hi."

Diane gasped and jumped back. She stumbled, several books sliding out of her hands and onto the floor. She gave Jason a wide-eyed look, her mouth opened as if wanting to say something but the words could not make it to her mouth.

Just as skittish as always, Jason thought. "Sorry, Diane, I didn't meant to startle you." He picked up the books and thrust them towards her.

Diane recoiled and stared at the books as if they were contaminated. Her eyes flicked along his arm and then around the edges of his body. Soon he was going to have to educate the Harbingers on how they've been misinterpreting the Auras. Diane was seeing power, not evil.

She took the books with a grasp so delicate she nearly dropped them again. "Um, thank you," she said in a low, quavering voice as she turned back to her locker. "So--"

"I wanted to talk to you briefly to see how you were doing."

Diane paused with a book perched halfway on a shelf. "Um ... doing?"

"I was concerned about you, with that new power of yours which was giving you such grief."

"Oh, that." Her eyes darted, and she swallowed once. In a nervous voice she said, "I-I'm not sure I'm supposed to talk to you about that."

"I understand your caution," Jason said. "I think that's prudent until you know more about what's been going on with me. I won't ask you any specifics about your power or what you can do with it. I just want to know how you're doing. Are you holding up okay? Is Mrs. Radson helping at all? Has it helped you stress out about it less?"

Diane hesitated in her response, and Jason knew he had nailed down the proper psychological approach. First, appear to agree with her, which enhanced the idea that he was talking sense; people always thought someone made more sense when he agreed with their own opinions. Second, maintain a clearly compassionate angle, which would enhance any guilt over suspecting ulterior motives. Third, pummel her with enough questions such that it forces her attention into parsing them, and thus less time was spent on critical thinking.

"I'm doing better with it," Diane said. "She's been helping me cope with it, though we haven't had enough time for any more sessions recently."

Jason nodded and gestured towards the locker. "Better keep getting ready for class, you don't want to be late."

"Oh, yes, right!" Diane craned her neck and looked at the clock. A good two minutes remained, but the clock had a second hand sweep. Jason had read that people's perception of time was always shorter when they could actually see time passing before their eyes.

He waited another few seconds for her to be sufficiently distracted by her rush to get ready for class. "So nothing recently? Did she manage to help you get more control over it?"

"What? Yes, she did." Diane glanced at the clock again. "I don't feel like it's in control of me anymore."

"Oh? You felt like you had that little control over it?"

Diane appeared about to reply but paused, as if finally catching herself. She grabbed one more book from her locker and slammed it closed. "I know better now," she said quickly. "I mean, I still have ... it doesn't always ... it tends to know when it needs to be used, that's the best way to put it. Heather thinks that I may be channeling her precognitive ability."

"And you've always put it to good use?" Jason asked.

Diane again glanced at the clock. "Yes, it's helped Heather and Melinda, and even Mrs. Radson once when she ... um ... well, never mind what happened. Really, Jason, I'm sorry, I have to go."

She headed away, and Jason jogged up next to her. "Just one more question, I promise."

Diane slowed and gave him a pained look, then sped up again and sighed. "I'm not sure I can answer any more. I've probably said too much as it is."

"Diane, even with everything that's happened, I still care very much for you and the other Harbingers. I don't want to see them get hurt."

Diane stopped outside her classroom and glanced at the clock, the second hand sweeping out the last thirty seconds before the bell. "Thank you, Jason, I'm glad you still do care for everyone."

"Do you think you'll be taking more lessons with Mrs. Radson soon?"

"I don't know, she's going to be ... um, well, busy with things this week. Lot of us are. I mean, there's not much more to do with me except show me how to better control, um, my sexuality." She voiced the last two words as a whisper. "I have to go! See you later!"

She ducked into the classroom under the wary eye of the teacher who closed the door in her wake as the bell rang.

Jason headed towards the cafeteria. That had been a little less fruitful that he had hoped. He had found nothing definitive which would have made the decision for him.

So her power was tied to her sexuality? That was not very promising, considering how easily she can fall into sexual slavery. He would have to pursue this point.

Cassie thought the absence of Jason at lunch was what made that interlude so harrowing, but the long lapses of silence among her peers had far eclipsed it in its ability to unnerve her. Ned would occasionally try to liven things up with a joke, but it would spark maybe a minute or two of lackluster response before everyone fell back into the silent doldrums.

"Well, we're a lively crew today," Ned grumped after his fourth attempt had fallen flat. He dropped his fork to his plate with a clang. "Fuck, I hate waiting."

"Yes, that's it, isn't it?" Cassie said, grateful that someone else had come out and said it first. She felt vaguely hypocritical given how many times she chastised Ned for wanting to leap into the water headfirst before knowing how deep it was. "I feel it, too. I want to be doing something, but it's all up to Mrs. Radson."

Richie muttered a curse as he dropped his half-finished hamburger to his plate, his fingers coated in grease from where it leaked from one side of the patty. He wrinkled his nose and wiped his hand on his jeans. "And I'm getting tired of chasing Jason all over the fucking school."

"So why are ya doin' it?" Ned said in a sour voice.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do? He told me to stop him from doing shit to everyone."

"Yeah, but I'm gettin' that funny feelin' again that we're chasin' decoys, jus' like I did when it looked like Terrible Terri Hollis had gone over ta the Dark Side of the Force."

Cassie's fork clanged to her plate. "No one feels more terrible about this than I do! Look at Melinda. All this time we've been focusing on Heather or waiting for Jason to finish reading the Journal and we've ignored Melinda completely."

"Heather was refusin' help," Ned said. "Melinda didn't 'xactly beg us fer help either."

"But she complained enough. We should have listened. And ... and goodness, now I feel like I'm criticizing Jason because he was still in charge when all that was happening."

Ned slipped an arm around her waist, and she almost pulled away. That convinced her she needed the contact more than she cared to admit. She leaned against him as he said, "Babe, yer gettin' yerself all tied up in knots. C'mon, give yerself a break. Melinda's always complainin' about something. How were we supposed ta figger out it really had gone that bad?"

Cassie closed her eyes. "I still think we should have done something for her. And Heather. There's just too much going wrong. I ... we're at our breaking point."

Ned's arm squeezed more tightly around her, and she wondered if he had caught her slip. Perhaps she shunned power not for the fear of it going to her head, but rather because she did not have the head for it in the first place.

She vowed never again to criticize Ned for his gung-ho attitude. More than anything else, she wanted to do something. Yet a true Kendall would not soil her hands doing everything herself. A proper Kendall delegated. This is exactly what she had been doing, and it disgusted her.

She had Ned lose who knows how many hours of sleep trying to decode the journal. She had shoved Richie into the line of fire chasing down Jason. Now Diane wanted to go to the abandoned church, and she had to again sit on the sidelines. It mattered not that her delegation had been forced on her by expediency; she could not soil her own hands because her mother and her damnable driver would not let her. The end result was the same, and that was all that mattered in her mind.

"True power is not about what you can get done," her mother had said years ago, "But in knowing how to have others get things done in your stead."

A chance to redeem herself loomed on the horizon. She had the chance to not only soil her hands but dive into the mud, and she wanted nothing but to run from it.

The fear went beyond what might happen to her. It was a mask obscuring the reality. She had always felt caught in the spotlight of Kendall power, worried that she might open her eyes, see the glory, and never want to leave.

"I wish I could go with you this afternoon," Cassie whispered to Ned, and wondered if he would really understand why without prompting.

"I hear ya," Ned said in a soft voice. "I'll make sure ta call ya soon as we're outta there."

Cassie gave him a tiny smile. As she had suspected, he didn't understand. She felt too weary to explain it.

"And, babe? We can only do so much. We gotta pick our battles. Think of it this way: if we threw everything we had inta helpin' Heather and Melinda, we'd have nothin' fer Jason."

Cassie closed her eyes and nodded. She recalled the frenzied period of intense sex in the two weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, which they all had agreed was a sure sign something was about to happen, but could they have directed some of that energy to Heather and Melinda?

Then there was Richie, the odd man out.

He was easy to ignore, Cassie now understood with chagrin. Everyone assumed he could take care of himself, that he was tough enough to withstand anything. No one else could sense the raging conflict of emotions deep in his psyche which lay bare to her. So much turmoil was there that she could no longer sense his individual moments of rage, which is why she flinched when Richie's fist suddenly thumped to the table as he cried, "All right, where the fuck is he?!"

"What are ya squawkin' about now?" Ned said, though his voice started to trail off as he craned his neck in the general direction Richie was now looking.

"Where the flying fuck is Jason?!" Richie said, thumping his fist on the table again and thrusting his other arm towards a spot near the middle of the cafeteria. "He's supposed to be right there! What the fuck, is he even in here?!"

"I dunno, yer the one who's s'posed ta be watchin' im'," Ned drawled.

Richie glared at him and was about to go off on another tirade when Cassie interjected, "That's enough you two. Honestly, the hostility between you two lately is not helping matters."

"Sorry, babe," said Ned. "I guess I just--"

"There he is!" Richie said and bolted for the entrance, his chair clattering to the floor.

"Richie, no, wait!" Cassie cried. When Richie ignored her, she slid off her chair and muttered "shit" to the incredulous gaze of her lover.

She was fortunate that Richie was stopped by a faculty member, and she hung back as he was scolded about running in the cafeteria. She caught up to him as he was let go and grabbed his arm. He wrenched it out of her grip but did not take more than a few steps before he stopped and pounded a fist on the nearest table, causing several students to voice their displeasure at having soup splashed on their trays and shirts.

Richie made his response known with a single finger just as Cassie stepped up to him. "Richie, this ... this is not helping!" Cassie cried in an exasperated voice.

"I fucking missed him," Richie muttered, his fists trembling at his sides. "I should've freakin' escorted him to the cafeteria."

Ned jogged up to them. "Richie, chill out. I just saw Jason get in line for lunch. He's here."

"Yeah, and what the hell was he doing just now? How do we know he didn't go off and get another slave just now?"

Cassie shuddered at the thought, remembering what Diane had said earlier that she suspected Melinda wanted to become Jason's slave as the least of all possible evils.

"I'm sure he didn't have time for that sort of thing, Richie," Cassie said, though more for her own benefit than anyone else.

"Fuck," Richie muttered, then shouted, "Fuck! I can't watch him every damn minute!"

"Then don't! Please, I appreciate what you're doing, but you can't be everywhere at once."

"An' ya gotta be sharp fer helpin' Diane track down the skeletons in Heather's Mom's closet," said Ned.

Richie slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, at least if I keep doing that with her, she'll be safe."

"This has gotta be the line we draw," Ned said. "We can't worry about the school anymore. If we gotta concede some territory, it's gotta be here. We gotta jus' suck it up and hope we can all muddle through. It helps that the Big Evil Kahuna don't seem ta give a rat's arse about Haven High anymore."

"Yeah, it's become that bitch Bendon's fuck-o-rama," Richie muttered. "Or am I the only one who heard the rumor about her getting nasty with--"

"Then we concede the battle fer now. So long, Haven High, and thanks fer all the fish. We got bigger ones ta fry."

Cassie sighed. "I hate to say this, but I think Ned is right. I don't like it either, Richie, but what you see right now, not including Mrs. Radson and Diane, is all that's left of the Harbingers, at least the part that can be at all effective."

Richie kicked the legs of an unoccupied chair and growled, "I don't want Diane taken like Melinda was."

Cassie's eyes misted at the sudden surge of anguish and self-recrimination which swept over her from his psyche.

"Yeah, but we gotta stop treatin' her like she just dropped off the hay truck," Ned said. "'Sides, we still got Seeger."

Richie frowned. "What the hell does Saggy-Seeger have to do with it?"

"I'm convinced the dude has some sorta resistance ta control. If the ol' grapevine is ta be believed, Bendon's wanted him out ever since she became a certain naughty nurse's nubile nympho. Why is it takin' her so freakin' long? Only explanation that fits is that she can't touch 'im fer some reason and she's gotta wait fer him ta screw up an' get him fired."

Richie looked dubious.

Ned rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, think of it this way: most of this mind control lark works through sex, right? I dare ya ta think of someone like Seeger in anything remotely connected with the horizontal fan--"

"Oh, gross!" Richie cried, wrinkling his nose. "Fuck, just shove an ice pick through my brain now so I don't have to think about that anymore."

"Ned, do you really think he could have some form of resistance?" Cassie asked in a hopeful tone.

"Yeah, I do. Remember how Mrs. R. had resistance ta Victor. Hell, most of us in the Harbingers have some sorta resistance or we woulda folded under a long time ago."

Cassie sighed. "I really hope you're right about that."

"I'd even go so far as ta call him out on it," Ned said. "Talk ta him. Tell 'im we need 'im watchin' our backs. Tell him that Diane needs some watchin' if ya want."

Cassie had resisted going to Seeger for anything, not wanting to make his already stressful job even worse, but she was out of options. "All right. I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. I think we'll be okay for the rest of the day since Diane's classes are close to ours in the afternoon."

More delegating. She was sure that would make her mother proud.

"So I am as yet undecided," said Jason as Stacy sat with her fingers steepled before her contemplative face. "What I heard was somewhat disturbing, yes. I shudder to think what might happen were another Victor to come along, but I want to give the other Harbingers the benefit of the doubt that they can protect her sufficiently."

"Sufficiently," Stacy repeated as she laced her fingers together and placed her hands on the desk. "Is that good enough for you?"

Jason paused. "It is for now. It ... my other thoughts about her haven't helped."

Stacy smiled. "I can guess what those thoughts are."

"I may not have had such thoughts if I didn't already know what her pussy was like. It's a shame she's not into boys."

"She could be, though."

Jason shook his head. "I could control her into having sex with me, but when the control is removed, she would be a lesbian still and likely despise what I did to her."

"Naturally, if you felt you needed to take complete control like you did Cindy and Kim, the issue would never come up."

"And that abuts against the other problem I have. How am I going to handle more slaves? Diane is only the tip of the iceberg."

Stacy tilted her head. "Oh?"

Jason sighed. He had not wanted to bring that up, yet the more he remembered how frantic he had become watching Melinda's slow slide into slavery while he struggled with Elizabeth's ultimately useless journal, the more he felt responsible for her predicament.

"It's Melinda," Jason said in a reluctant voice. "She's afraid she's going to be made into a sex slave before long."

"Ah, yes," Stacy said in a disdainful voice. "Melinda's aunt was once a member of Victor's foolish cult, was she not?"

"That's what I'm given to understand. She's exploiting the trigger the cult left in Melinda."

"And in what context did Melinda enter your mind with regards to this discussion?"

Jason hesitated. Melinda was the last person he had wanted to drag into anything concerning the Inn, but that was before he realized much of his worry was for nothing. "I had the thought that if I couldn't stop what her aunt was doing to her, then ... maybe she could become my slave."

Stacy leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "An interesting idea."

"I don't really want to do it," Jason said. "As much as I might enjoy it, I don't feel right about it. It's not like she's done anything to deserve it. She has annoyed me sometimes in the past, but not enough to justify this."

"And yet you would let her suffer under another's control."

Jason was not sure what to say. He wanted to agree with her, but that did not automatically place him in the right.

"Sometimes, Jason, taking control of someone is a mercy rather than a punishment or a retribution. Wouldn't you say you would be a caring Master?"

"Well, yes, of course." Jason paused. "And I suppose I could free her later."

"Unless you see how happy she can be as your slave."

Jason slowly nodded. "Yes, there is that."

"It's just something to think about," said Stacy. "You do have more immediate concerns."

"Which brings me back to my original problem. I don't have the time or resources to maintain a ... a harem."

"And why do you think you need to worry about it?" Stacy asked.

"Because Cindy and Kim look to me for their happiness. As much as I love fucking them, they depend on it. I frankly don't know if I have the endurance for any more."

Stacy smiled. "Then it's time for you to move on to more efficient techniques of control. It's time for you to start programming them."

Jason's eyes widened. "Programming?"

Stacy giggled. "Perhaps I should use a different word. I forgot that you are into computers, and that word likely means something different than what I meant. What I am saying is that there are ways to affect them so they will always be in control without you having to tend to them all the time."

"I don't understand," Jason said. "They're my slaves. How much more in my control can they be?"

Stacy leaned forward. "Let me explain to you something about the nature of mind control. You control them because your mind dwells on them and thus renews your bond with them moment to moment. Even when you sleep, you dream of them, and they dream along with you, so by the next morning they are primed and ready for you."

Jason slowly nodded, yet it belayed the true intensity of this revelation. He wondered now if that was the reason why the Darkness had to limit the number of minions over which it had total control. It had to expend energy constantly to maintain that hold.

"But you can lessen the energy required to maintain control if you alter your slave's personality."

Jason cast a wary glance at her. "Permanently?"

"Yes, permanently. In that way, you do not have to expend all that time and energy on her. She will simply do what you expect of her no matter what."

"But controlling them means they don't go off and do the things which would harm people."

Stacy smiled. "That's how you decide how to change them. What change could you apply which would render her forever harmless regardless of your presence or your direct commands? Here's a hint: it helps if it's already close to something she either did or fantasized about."

Jason thought about when he had first met Cindy, and how he had coaxed her into admitting how much she loved sex and how she liked playing the field.

"How would I do it?" Jason asked. "Assuming I thought this was the right way to go."

"Envision the behavior you wish to affect while engaging her sexually," Stacy said. "Especially if she is tending to some specific desire of yours. She will be primed to obey, and the distraction of her rising pleasure will lower the defenses around her subconscious.

Jason paused. "Is that how the Darkness--?"

"Please, let's stick to the topic, for it is very important if you are to resolve your dilemma."

"But--"

"Surely if you realize now how controlling someone can be the right solution, do you really want to be stymied by having to maintain a harem as you put it?"

Jason shook his head in silence. He was sure he had been on to something, but Stacy was right. This was more important. He could not let Diane go another day without proper guidance if she proved at all a danger to the Harbingers.

"It won't happen all at once," Stacy said. "It will take a little time to breach the barrier. You'll weaken it each time, and her dreams will be haunted by your ideas. Then one day, you'll breach it, and her subconscious will be laid bare. Then you repeat your desire, and it will be made real."

"And if I changed my mind and wanted to put her back--"

Stacy shook her head. "It would be hard to do without causing permanent confusion in her mind. Reversing a change like that is rather difficult."

"Then I better feel I'm in the right."

"Like you were with Elena?"

Jason's eyes widened. He had nearly forgotten about her. "But all I did was--"

"You altered her, Jason. It was the only way she would keep doing what you wanted once you were no longer in contact with her."

"I wasn't even trying to do that! I mean ... I assumed I simply had control over her and ..." He trailed off. Now he understood why Stacy had him tend to her again and again that weekend. It was to reinforce the programming.

"I'll be honest with you," Stacy said. "I did help a little. I channeled my power through you, but the end result is the same. Now, does this at all change the fact that you were in the right?"

Jason shook his head. "No, it doesn't. I had to stop her."

"And knowing all this now, would you do it again if it came to that?"

"Yes. In a heartbeat."

Stacy smiled. "Then you should have no problem deciding the right thing to do. Now, go enjoy your slaves."

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