Cassie appears before the pit and is shocked to discover the presence of her unseen companion and former invisible friend venturing far closer to her than ever before.

She can sense his emotions more easily. He exudes excitement, the kind which accompanies anticipation of adventure. "Do you know what I am going to try to do?" she calls out, but still gets no answer, other than a brief spike of anticipation.

Cassie reconsiders, but if she backs out now, a whole night would be wasted. She had waited until close to dawn. If the mansion has a security guard, she hopes to find the one on the day shift. That is her only hope. If the security for the mansion is completely off-site, she has not a prayer of pulling anything off. She has to have a guard to ...

To what?

To influence? To control? She can do that only if she enters the person's mind. Had she known exactly who the guard is, she might be able to do it through her Dream Gift, but how can she expect Projection to do the same?

She feels another spike of anticipation from her companion. She does not like where this is going, but her dedication to her fellow Harbingers overcomes her caution, and she steps into the pit.

The emotions which swirl around her are most alarming. The least of them is worry and the worst condemnation. She shudders as sharp daggers of anger pierce the empathic veil, and she realizes it is coming from the Presence; he is arguing with the other spirits.

She floats free in the line, and she spins around when she senses the Presence behind her. She gasps as she sees something shimmering in the gently flowing energy. It has no more substance than mist, but her eyes trace a definite human shape.

Her heart pounds. This is her first glimpse of whatever had plagued her childhood and stolen her memory of the same. For a moment she feels the urge to slap it, even knowing her hand would likely go right through it, but time is short.

She soars through the line, and her companion glides along with her. He radiates an almost childlike eagerness. She passes the discolored ring, and soon she is below Charles' mansion. She looks up and sees only a dimly lit parlor. She shudders as she realizes what it may be.

She has no time to delay because of her squeamishness. She rises and is standing inside the room in her nightgown and bare feet. She wills herself into her school clothes and shivers at the sepulchral atmosphere. She swallows as she looks around with the uneasy feeling she is standing in a mausoleum. There is no mistaking it; this is where Stephanie -- or "Lydia" as they had chosen to call her -- had been incarcerated in her own mind for twenty years. The room must be directly over the line. Had they known about her Projection abilities, they would never have put her here.

Cassie ventures into the hall. The lighting is bare minimum, just enough to walk about without stumbling. Her companion is with her, a hovering Presence just outside her immediate environ, waiting.

Cassie comes upon a lounge, not unlike the one in her own mansion where her father entertains business partners. All the furniture has been left where it lay, which is as she had hoped. If the will were indeed being contested, all the potential assets would remain until their distribution had been settled.

She is about to head into another hallway when she hears a creak in the distance, and then footsteps. She dives under a coffee table. While it has a glass top, she hopes she is enough in shadow she will not be seen unless someone looks in her direction.

Voices drift towards her. "... good then, Rob?" says a faintly Texan-accented voice.

"Ayep, everything's dandy, Jeb," drawls another. "Camera seven got fixed just as I came on shift."

"Anyone gonna show up today I should know about?"

The two men pass the doorway, and Cassie shrinks down as far as she can. They are facing away from her, both wearing uniforms. She shudders as she spots the handgun on one of their hips.

"Probate lawyer 'round nine," says Rob. "That's about it."

The two men turn towards one another, and Cassie's heart thunders. For a moment she fears they can actually hear it. "Should be an easy shift, then, I reckon," Jeb says.

"Ayep. See ya tomorrow."

"Yep. Take care."

The men part. Rob goes back the way he came, Jeb heads further in.

Cassie eases herself out from under the table. She cranes her neck in the doorway and sees Jeb turn down another, more narrow corridor. Her companion's excitement is at a fever pitch.

She tip-toes down the hall, sticking close to the wall. She peers down the narrow corridor and spies a small alcove where Jeb sits before a control panel and a dozen monitors. The images on the monitors change, and she realizes with chagrin that every approach is covered. Stealth is not going to be the answer. She has to have the guard let them in.

She shudders at the idea of another random sexual encounter with a stranger. She understands now why the Presence has followed her. He intends to help her influence the guard, like he had others when she was a child. She tries to make it clear in her mind that she does not want this power, that she is to have it only long enough to get this done.

He responds with amusement, but then subsides. She hopes that means he has acquiesced.

Cassie takes a deep breath and steps into the hallway. "Hello."

Jeb whirls around in his chair, eyes wide, one hand clutching the gun at his hip. "What in ... how the HELL did you get in here?! Who are you?"

"I am ... a spiritual envoy," Cassie says.

The words simply appeared in her head. She knew she had said them only when she heard them pass her lips. Did they come from her companion? Is that what he calls himself?

Jeb cocks an eyebrow. "Right. Look, little lady, I don't know how you--"

Cassie realized the moment she uttered the words that she has to do something to prove it. She raises her arms and wills herself into an elegant ballroom gown.

Jeb's eyes become saucers. "Holleee ... how did you ... I-I must be seeing things ..."

Cassie's mind races as she tries to figure out what to say next. She does not want the Presence speaking for her. "I am a spiritual envoy," she repeats, hoping it will spark an idea. "I ... I have come ... on a mission and need your help."

Jeb swallows. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, lady. I mean, unless you're one of God's own angels, I'm not about to--"

The image jumps into her head, and her Projected image responds as if by instinct. Suddenly she is dressed in flowing robes of gleaming white. Two swan-like wings spread out behind her.

Her companion is suddenly right behind her, and it takes all her will not to flinch. She feels a tingling sensation, like static electricity dancing along her skin. She sees a pale glow around her and realizes it is from her.

Jeb gasps and stares with shimmering eyes. He falls out of his seat and to his knees. "Oh dear Lord ..." he breathes. "P-please, Lord, I'm sorry ... I-I meant to go to church every Sunday, I just--"

Cassie feels sick to her stomach. This is worse than playing with his sexuality, but she has little choice but to press on. "I am not here ... to listen to your sins," she says, faltering for a moment when she hears her voice has taken on a echoing, booming cadence. "I have only to request something of you."

Jen clasps his hands together and bows his head. "Anything, my Lord. Anything you ask of me, it will be done."

"This afternoon, three teens will appear at the gate," Cassie says. "Two boys and one girl. You will let them in and let them go where they wish in the mansion."

Jeb swallows hard. "Y-yes ... but ... I-I'm supposed to protect this place, not let anyone steal or--"

"They will leave the place undisturbed. You will let them in, let them do what they will, and they will leave. Nothing will be taken."

Jeb lets out a relieved sigh. "Yes, Lord, I will obey. I will do as you wish."

Cassie feels the first tug of the tether, and for once she welcomes it. She feels she has to say something more, something to get this man to stop groveling. "Jeb, stand before me."

Still trembling, Jeb rises to his feet, but keeps his head bowed.

"Please, look at me."

He swallows and raises his head. Her heart skips a beat when she sees he is close to crying, even though she can sense it would be tears of joy. Cassie suddenly feels as dirty as she had during her Projected sex the night before.

"You're a good man, Jeb ... um ... keep up the good work."

Cassie inwardly cringes at the lameness of her words when he was likely expecting some sort of divine revelation. Yet he beams anyway and nods. "Thank you. Thank you, Lord. And don't you worry, you'll see old Jeb right in the front pew from now on come Sunday morning!"

Cassie forces a smile and nods. "Very good. And now I will take my leave. Um, thank you for your time."

She lets go, and the tether snaps her back into the line. Her angelic attire is abandoned for her night clothes. Her companion radiates satisfaction, and she wants to scream at him to stop. She feels shame at the ethereal voices of condemnation as she passes up through the mesa, taking no joy in sensing her companion argue back at them.

It is with a great sense of relief that she slams back into her body.

Cassie sat up in bed and dropped her face into her hands. "Goodness, what did I just do?"

She tried to console herself that she did not attempt a sexual approach, for he would surely have thought her spawned from the devil rather than the divine. Yet was it any worse than using the man's religious faith against him? She would never had pulled it off if it had not been for the Presence which had again retreated to the edge of her perceptions.

Cassie lifted her head. She balled her hands into fists and slammed them against the mattress. "I hate that power! Don't ever make me do that again!"

She sensed what she thought was mild contriteness from the Presence before it vanished.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed in exasperation as she glanced towards the window. The dawn had already chased much of the twilight to the western horizon, and soon the first glimmers of morning sunlight would play across the snow-covered landscape outside her window. There was no point in going back to bed now.

Debby had accused her of not wanting power. If Cassie told her about this, maybe then she would understand why.

Debby sat in her makeshift basement lab, a wisp of steam rising from her mug of strong tea. She held it with both hands, needing it not so much for the contents as the warmth. Yet nothing could chase away the chill inside her mind as she stared with bleary eyes at a single flask sitting alone among the cold and dirty implements of its creation.

The flask was filled to the neck with a brownish-green fluid, impossibly clear given the nature of some of the herbs infused within it. When she had first seen it after several hours of simmering, she thought she had done something horribly wrong. Yet the vibes which emanated from the potion eliminated any doubt. Despite having cooled for much of the night, the surface still frothed slightly, as if the supernatural energy contained within sought escape.

Now, at long last, she understood how Elizabeth had felt when she had created the same concoction some thirty years ago. Debby could not see it as anything more than an abomination. If any consolation were to be had, it would be that at long last those infernal leaves which had caused so much emotional pain were now gone. She wanted to think that both Elizabeth's and Mara's spirits rested a little more easily now.

Debby took a sip of her tea and set the mug down on the workbench. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She had been dead tired the night before after laboring all day to ensure that the potion was mixed correctly, yet she tossed and turned all night, her dreams plagued by disturbing visions of the misuse of this potion. Several times she felt compelled to return to the basement to ensure the potion was still where she had left it.

She shuddered as she recalled one of the worst of her dreams, where half the Harbingers had become so mind-blanked that they could not even eat unless told to do so. She tried to resist the urge to go over all the steps she took, as she was sure she would conjure up mistake after mistake.

Debby sighed. She wished the formula had been enough for only two doses and thus save her from having to make the most difficult decision of her life.

She reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out her cell phone. She flipped it open, and speed-dialed Cassie's number. "Good morning, Cassie," Debby said, smiling slightly and trying to put an upbeat tone in her voice. "Can you talk now?"

"I think so, Mrs. Radson," Cassie replied. "I'm on my way in the limo to pick up Ned."

"I'll understand if there are some things you can't talk about openly. I just wanted to let you know that I finished the potion."

"Oh, that's good news!"

Debby would have disagreed. Her stomach would remain in knots all day until the others took the potion and had no adverse affects. "Can the Harbingers meet today at my house? It's best if this is used when it's fresh."

"Ned, Diane, and ... um, they'll be late. They're helping track down something from Mrs. Sovert's past."

"Can I assume the name you did not mention is Richie?"

"Yes, Mrs. Radson," Cassie said with relief.

"May I ask why they are doing this, or will that have to wait until I see you this afternoon?

"Heather asked it as a favor of Diane. She just wants to know what happened. How her mother became the way she is."

"Yes, I can understand that. I so feel for both Heather and Melinda. Even if they were not going through their own troubles, their mother's plight alone would be a terrible burden."

A pause. "Heather wanted to do it because she had been told that her mother did it to herself."

Debby uttered a small gasp. "You don't mean ... that the woman gave herself willingly to the Darkness?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean, and I find it hard to believe from what Ned's told me they've already uncovered."

"They must be very careful, Cassie!" Debby said. "And not just because of Jason. I do not know who might be upset if they knew what Diane was trying to uncover."

"Yes, I know, it had concerned me as well, but maybe understanding what happened would help us. I can tell you more later when I see you."

Debby had a feeling Cassie would reach the limit of what she could say with Harry listening, despite how much she burned with curiosity. "Okay, Cassie. Perhaps we can use the time waiting for the others to catch up with your latest visions."

Cassie paused, and from the nervous edge in her voice, Debby guessed the hesitation was from reasons other than Harry. "I'll try, Mrs. Radson. I better go, we're almost to Ned's house."

"I'll see you this afternoon, dear."

Debby hung up and sighed. She wished she had come to know Penny Sovert years ago, before the woman started on the path which led to where she was now. Perhaps it would have been mutually beneficial; Debby could have helped Penny in some small way, and Penny would have alerted her to the presence of the Darkness far sooner.

Then perhaps the abomination which sat in a simple flask not three feet away would never have been needed.

Heather uttered a lusty sigh as she stirred in bed. She rolled onto her back, the sheet and blanket pulling away from one breast and one leg. Her beddings had been tossed asunder by her writhing from relentless erotic dreams. Heat flushed her skin and smoldered in her pussy, chasing away the morning chill; when she pulled the covers away, no goosebumps marred her smooth skin.

She got out of bed and ran her hands down the sides of her naked body, shivering with pleasure as her pussy ached with renewed desire. She remembered what had been commanded of her the night before: she was to report to her Mistress immediately when she rose that morning. She shuddered and let out a husky sigh. She so hoped Mistress planned to reward her slave for her perseverance during her punishment.

She spied the special panties sitting on a chair near the foot of the bed. She wanted to leave them off, but Mistress had yet to formally rescind the order; she was still to wear them all the time, except to sleep, shower, study, and use the toilet.

Heather wasted no time in obeying, determined to show her Mistress what a good girl she had become. She paused with the panties drawn up to her thighs as she thought about what Mistress would demand of her next, but she shoved that troublesome thought aside and pulled the panties into place.

She uttered a husky sigh as the dildo popped inside her. She moaned and grabbed the back of the chair when it lengthened into a fully-erect cock plunging into her tight and needy depths. She leaned forward and thrust her ass back, rocking her hips as she rode another anonymous cock in her mind's eye.

"Slave, I am waiting for you," came her Mistress voice from below.

Heather whimpered and forced herself to let go of the chair. She could not straighten up all the way, her hips jerking back and forth as her unseen lover pounded into her. She staggered out of the room and down the hall, grasping the banister with both hands as she slowly negotiated the stairs.

She spotted Mistress sitting just inside the dining room seated at the end of the table. Her body was turned towards Heather, her legs crossed, her robe loosely sashed. Her head was turned towards the open laptop, perusing an email. She did not acknowledge Heather's presence until her slave reached the bottom of the stairs.

Heather let out a ragged sigh as the phantom fuck stopped, and the cock became the stubby dildo again. Laura turned her gaze towards Heather as she approached. Heather bowed her head and dropped to her knees. "Yes, Mistress, your slave is here and wishes to obey," Heather said in a husky voice.

She waited, the only sound that of kitchen utensils as Marcie fixed breakfast.

Finally she heard Laura rise and step away from the dining table. "And what if I order you to keep the panties on for the rest of the week?"

Heather shuddered. "I-I will do as you wish."

"Perhaps I should do just that. Perhaps until I am sure you will really do what I want of you."

Heather swallowed. "I will obey," she said in a tremulous voice.

"Why? Why will you obey?"

Heather closed her eyes. Shame as well as anticipation and lust swept over her. "I want to cum, Mistress," she said in a tiny voice.

"What was that, slave? Speak up."

"I want to c-cum, Mistress." She stumbled over the word as the dildo once again became the cock of a boy who must have had his first sexual experience when Laura used him to help enchant the panties. Her hips rocked to his slow and tentative thrusts, her pleasure rising until she was panting softly.

Laura strolled behind Heather. "So you do," she said in a flat voice. "And if I allow you to cum, what will you do for me?"

Heather panted harder as this boy's first sexual tryst played out in her mind, his moves becoming more bold at Laura's coaxing. She tilted her hips just as Laura had then, trying to get more of his cock against her clit.

"What is it I want from you, slave?" Laura demanded as she strolled in front of Heather.

"Melinda!" Heather cried as she strained at an orgasm she feared would still not be hers. "You want Melinda, Mistress."

"And will you give her to me?"

Heather's eyes squeezed shut. She faltered for a moment, just when in her mind's eye Laura flipped him on his back and humped him. Her hips swung wildly back and forth, her stimulation spiking and falling. She whimpered as she strained at the edge once, then again, then a third time.

"Will you, slave?"

"Yes ... yes, I-I'll give you Melinda ... I'll use the panties on her ... I'll bring her to you ... oh God, no ... no!"

She fell forward and collapsed on the floor, gasping into the carpet as the panties quiesced, leaving her on a plateau from which she only slowly retreated. She buried her face in the carpet, letting out a ragged sigh which became a single sob.

She felt her Mistress touch her shoulder and slide a hand slowly down her back. She shivered, her pussy swimming in moisture. She gasped in both need and desperation as Mistress' fingers swirled over her backside and trailed down her thighs.

"I'm almost ready to believe you, slave," Laura said in a husky voice. "God, you are so sexy like this, when you are so helpless and wanting. You cannot imagine how wet I have been the last few days seeing you like this."

Heather moaned softly into the carpet, her own lust rising at her Mistress' pleasure.

Laura withdrew her hand, and Heather heard her move towards the easy chair. "Stand up, slave."

Heather slowly rose, still panting, her pussy aching so badly she could focus on little else. Whatever sense of betrayal she may have felt in consigning Melinda to her fate was drowned in raw, molten need. When she saw her Mistress spread a bath towel over the carpet before her chair, Heather whimpered in anticipation.

"Come here, slave," said Laura. As soon as Heather stepped onto the towel, Laura touched the crotch of her panties. Heather shuddered as a tingling sensation shot through her body. "Now ... think of some of the best sex you have ever had."

She stroked the crotch once, and Heather moaned as pleasure radiated from her pussy into her mind. A pall of wanton desire settled over her, masking the cold tendrils of Laura's Dark power which pressed further into her weakened psyche.

Heather gasped as the dildo suddenly lengthened. She closed her eyes as she fell to her knees, her thighs spreading as she straddled Jason in her mind. With little hesitation she humped Jason's nice, thick, long cock. She followed each jerk forward of her hips by a brief pause as she reveled in the feeling of fullness inside her tunnel.

Her hips again faltered when a single terrifying thought burst into her head. For just a moment she believed Jason had somehow fallen to Laura, or how else could she believe him to be fucking her so well? No, that was not possible. Her Mistress had simply done some new magic on the panties.

Laura's lips curled into a sly smile. "You're right, I didn't use Jason, as enjoyable as that might have been. The panties become more yours the longer you wear them."

She leaned forward as she rode him harder, her breath falling into the same staccato cadence as her thrusts. Everything fell away, leaving only her and Jason. Heather strained at the edge, and for a single horrified moment she believed she would be left stranded again. She strained harder, her muscles tensing until cords stood out along her thighs. She raised her head in a single shrill cry of ecstasy as her pussy burst through the dam which had held it back. She squirted out the sides of the crotch, and rivulets of her hot cum ran down her thighs.

Her hips still humped, Jason throbbing inside her in her mind's eye. She trembled as she let out a shaky sigh, her hips slowing as her climax ebbed. She settled back on her feet and thrust out an arm to steady herself when she started to tip over.

"Stand up."

The words came thick through the post-orgasmic fog of bliss. She was slow to move, her pussy aching in post-coital splendor. She wanted only to stop and enjoy it. She staggered a bit as she rose, her hips giving one last small jerk.

Her Mistress' cupped her chin, and her smoldering eyes met Laura's scrutinizing gaze. "Almost," Laura said. "I could almost believe you would do it."

"I obey, Mistress," Heather said in an eager if still breathy voice. "If you let me go home today, I will put them on her. I'll bring her to you tonight."

Laura considered and slowly nodded. "Yes, actually, I believe you would." She dropped her hand from Heather's chin. "But you would raise suspicion if I were to suddenly discharge you in the middle of the week."

Heather said nothing. Her only thought was obedience, so long as she was never held back from cumming ever again.

"No, you will need to wait until Monday. Unfortunately."

"Yes, Mistress. Whatever you wish of me."

Laura sighed. "Will you be thinking that come Sunday? I may consider a little refresher. Perhaps the whole weekend without cumming, and then only before I am about to send you home."

Heather whimpered but said nothing, her eyes shimmering. She could not muster up fear for her little sister's plight. She could think only of her poor, tortured pussy.

"And then, when you bring Melinda to me, this will become your permanent home," Laura said in a husky voice as she slid her hand down the side of Heather's trembling body. "You and your sister. And it will be a better home than you would ever have with your mother."

At some point in the past -- Heather was not sure when -- she would have contested that statement. Perhaps Melinda was right, and that it mattered not how things became the way they were. All that mattered was the result.

"Yes, Mistress, of course," Heather said in a soft, obedient voice.

Henry folded his arms and stood steadfast at the door to the master bedroom as Audrey stalked away from him. "You are being completely unreasonable, Henry!"

"Nevertheless, you are staying in here until Jason leaves," Henry said. "You should consider yourself lucky that I'm not forcing you to put on a damn bra."

Audrey tossed her head back and gave him an imperious look. "And you think you could actually force me to do something against my will? Not likely."

Henry stared at his wife. He wished he knew what Jason saw when he looked at her. Did it give any indication of the power of the influence? Could Henry tell if he could match it? Perhaps if he were dead sure he could overcome the outside influence using a minimum of force, Ted would be more amenable to granting him permission.

Then again, Ted may see the descent of his wife into rampant incest with his son as just another experiment from which to collect more data about the "Haven Entity," as they so blithely called it.

"You're only delaying the inevitable," Audrey said in a voice both defiant and lusty. "You can't be here all the time."

"So are you finally admitting it? Are you coming right out and saying what you want to do with our son?"

Audrey paused, then gave him a sly grin. "And what is it you think I want to do with him? Perhaps you're the one with the dirty mind and not me."

Henry shook his head and folded his arms tighter. "Not going to play this game, Audrey. You and I both know what's going on. Stop dancing around it."

Audrey's eyes burned. "And I won't have you dictating to me what I can and can't do."

"Good! Be angry at me! Yell and scream if you want! At least that's better than seeing you strut around here like some cheap prostitute."

Henry had hoped that last statement would garner an even bigger rise. Perhaps masking the lust that the entity used to control its victims would throw her off-balance. Instead, like him, she was beyond playing petty games, and she gave him a sultry smile. "Perhaps you're just jealous that I'm no longer interested in you."

Henry took a deep breath and let it go as a slow sigh. He kept his eyes level and hard. He could not let on how much her statement had hurt, even as much as he felt he had deserved it. The nature of his research dictated he could not have sex unless under rigidly controlled circumstances. He was sure it had looked like he had lost interest in her.

He supposed he was a fool for expecting that she would continue to pine for him in light of his apparent complete rejection of her as a sexual being.

"To be brutally honest, Audrey, if that is indeed the case, I would much rather see you banging some random guy than touching our son in that regard."

"Do you realize you may be tossing your career away by keeping me away from Jason?" Audrey said in a voice both silky and admonishing. "How many times have you received urgent calls from the hospital that you've ignored? How many patients have you turned over to far less competent neurosurgeons?"

Henry thought to point out the irony in her complaint, but he refrained. It would only give her more words to twist around and toss back at him. She had not cared for his career even in the best of times before they had come to Haven, despite claiming she knew what she was getting into when she married him.

He saw it from her perspective now, but hated how it made him doubt everything for which he thought he had stood. He had seen the Haven Project as the source of all his marital troubles, but in fact it had served only to accelerate a very basic existing problem; the absence of the Project would have simply delayed when things came to a head.

He looked at Audrey and what she had become, and for the first time saw himself as the cause. It behooved him to set it right however he could.

"Let me handle my career as I see fit," Henry said, and rushed on before Audrey could turn the statement against him. "And let me protect our son as I see fit."

"Oh, and you think he needs protection from me? He's old enough to make his own decisions."

"That's a far cry from what you were saying about him before Thanksgiving."

"Perhaps I've come to understand him more. Isn't that what you've always been saying? You've always been the lenient one. Now, why is that?"

Henry tilted his head. He could not tell who exactly was asking the question. He had the unnerving impression that Audrey was becoming a mouthpiece for the entity, sparring with someone who it knew had taken part in the experiment which stole some of its power and imbued it in his psyche.

"I'm not answering that," Henry said in a low voice.

"Of course you're not." Audrey stepped up to him. Her voice became softer when she spoke again. "Because you know I'm right. You know he can decide for himself what he wants to do."

"Not anymore he can't, not since he started that so-called job at the Inn."

"Oh, but that has done wonders for him, Henry," Audrey said in a sultry voice. Her hips swung with each step as she advanced, her eyes smoldering. "He's learned how to take greater control of his life."

Henry narrowed his eyes. Her sexuality rolled off her in waves. Was it actually trying to use her to influence him? If he had not had some of its own power, would he be feeling the uncomfortable swell of an uncontrolled erection?

"And that's exactly what he can do if he doesn't want me." Audrey slid a hand up Henry's arm. "He can take control and stop me from doing anything he doesn't want me to do."

Henry felt a tingle in his crotch from his own memories as her fingers trailed up his arm. He let out a small, sad sigh when her hand touched his face. "And is that what you really want, Audrey?" Henry said in a soft voice as he lay his hand atop hers. "To control you like a puppet on a string?"

Audrey took a deep breath and let it go as a quavering, lusty sigh. She stroked his cheek and glided closer, until her bosom brushed against his chest. Her other hand trailed up his thigh. "It depends," she said in a husky voice. "As to what he would make me do. Perhaps ... " Her lips curled into a sultry smile and drifted closer to his. "Perhaps something that ... just maybe ... I could be persuaded into doing with you."

Henry suddenly curled his fingers tight around the hand at his cheek to a surprised yelp from her. His other hand grasped the one at his crotch. Audrey tried to twist her hands from his grip, but he held on tighter until she whimpered, "Henry, you're hurting me, stop it!"

Henry shoved her backwards before letting go. She stumbled, saved from a crash to the floor only by a brass bed post and the foot of the bed.

"You cannot imagine how much that hurt me far more than it did you, Audrey," Henry said in a sad voice.

Audrey's eyes blazed as she straightened up, her retort cut off by a voice from the hallway. "What's going on here?"

"Go to school, Jason," Henry said without turning around, his eyes still on Audrey.

"What are you doing with Mom?" Jason asked in a wary voice. "Why did she say you were hurting her?"

Audrey said not a word, but gave her husband a wry smirk, as if challenging him to extricate himself from this mess.

"Son? I am going to say this one more time," Henry said in a deadly voice. "Go. To. School. Now." When he heard not a sound behind him in the pause which followed, he uttered an exasperated sigh. "Whatever it is you see on me, Jason, I am sure it can tell you if I am actually doing anything to your mother at the moment. I am doing nothing, other than to stop her from doing something everyone may very well regret."

Another pause, then a low, sullen voice, "You can't watch me all the time, Dad. At some point, you're going to have to let me decide."

Henry let out a slow sigh as he heard Jason descend the stairs. He knew Jason was right; he simply wanted to delay that moment until either Jason was in a better frame of mind, or Henry overcame his cowardice and misplaced loyalty to do something about this mess.

"I feel absolutely terrible about this, Ned," Cassie lamented as she and her lover walked down the block. She kept her voice low despite being well out of earshot of Harry, who kept a wary eye on them from the limo still parked before Ned's house. "I toyed with someone's religious faith. I never meant to appear as an angel for goodness sake!"

Ned had a hard time not seeing the humor in it, and he barely held off what to him would have been an affectionate comment concerning Cassie and angels. He found he could not completely restrain himself. "Sounds ta me like yer hand was forced. Or yer wings, in this case."

Cassie only glanced at him and did not otherwise react. It helped that Ned had forced his face deadpan at the last second. "Yes, I know, he was likely helping me influence that poor man, but that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Hey, if ya gotta blame someone, blame me. I'm the one that put ya up to it."

Cassie sighed. "It's for a good cause. I try to tell myself that." She looked at him. "Do you think you'll be able to make it to Mrs. Radson's after you're done with Richie and Diane? I really don't want to be alone when ... when she gives me the potion."

Ned slipped an arm around around her and gave her a brief hug. He had to keep it to that, as Harry scrutinized anything more than that. He felt Cassie shudder and heard a slow sigh escape her lips, and she clung to him for a moment before parting. He thought he sensed a little more than simple affection, but it may have been his own delayed gratification coloring his judgment.

"I'll be there for ya, babe," Ned said. He grinned and tried to gloss over his own fear. "An' I'm sure Mrs. R. did a great job with it. Ya should be fine."

"I may need you for another reason," Cassie said in a low voice, and this time there was no mistaking the husky undertone. "Mrs. Radson told me I'll have to build up ... sexual energy if I'm to have any hope of pulling Jason away from the Darkness." She shivered. "A lot of energy."

Ned did not want to seem too excited at the prospect, but he could not stop his cock from stiffening in anticipation. He had no idea what to say, as just about everything he could think of sounded too lascivious given Cassie's mood.

Yet when they reached the corner and turned to face one another, he was shocked by the lustful look in Cassie's eyes. Her gaze flicked down and lingered on his crotch for a moment before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As her breasts swelled, Ned thought he could see the bumps of her hardened nipples through even her coat.

Before Ned could react, Cassie drew him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her just as she pushed her hips against him, squeezing the bulge of his cock between them. She let out a quivering breath into his ear. "I'm glad I'm not the only one," she breathed.

Ned swallowed and forced himself to pause when his hands threatened to stray too far. ABOVE the waist, sunshine, Ned thought. He wanted to break off the embrace, knowing that if they kept it up too much longer, Harry would give them hell for it when they returned to the limo. Instead, all he wanted to do was shove his crotch against her and feel her tremble with growing desire.

Cassie let out a heavy, husky sigh and nudged him away. It was a weak gesture, and Ned could have overcome it; he doubted she would have resisted. Instead, he backed away a step. An icy breeze blew up, and Ned welcomed it, though the way it blew a lock of hair across Cassie's eyes was too adorable for him to completely free himself of his desires.

"I think I've gone too long without," Cassie said in a soft voice.

"Jus' try ta get through the rest of the day without thinkin' on it too much."

Cassie's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "I'll try." Her smile faded. "Ned, I ... I need you to promise me something."

Ned laid his hand flat against his thigh to prevent himself from rubbing the back of his neck. He had a feeling he knew what Cassie was going to ask and had dreaded this moment.

"If something happens to me when I take the potion. If it ... if it d-does something to me that--"

"Babe, stop. It ain't gonna happen."

"But it could, and if it does, I--"

Ned grasped her shoulders. Her eyes shimmered as they held his. "Babe? Not. Gonna. Happen."

Cassie let out a sigh of exasperation, but she wiped one eye and her lips trembled into a small smile. "And this is coming from someone who was doubting Mrs. Radson every step of the way."

"Yeah, and that should tell ya something if I can make a statement like that," Ned declared. "Don't sweat it. Mrs. R.'s got it together. It'll be fine."

Cassie's smile steadied, and she nodded once. She gave him another quick hug and held his hand as they turned to head back to the limo.

Ned had to believe it would okay. Just like when Cassie delved into Gina's mind to rescue her from Victor, he could believe nothing else, for any other outcome was simply unthinkable.

In the best of times, Mike felt one with the rig and the road. Both were simply extensions of himself. Even driving into the dawn, with the glare of the sun on his water-and-salt streaked windshield turning everything into a bright haze, he had a feel for the road and the cars around him.

Then when the dreams began, the rig became just another hunk of metal which could become a deadly weapon in the space of a second. He fought it like a lion tamer who never quite got the upper hand, always narrowly escaping claws and teeth with his skin intact.

Now, as he drove his rig down a long stretch of Idaho highway, snow from the night before still dusting the roadway, he greeted the blinding morning sun with an eagerness he had not felt since years ago when he had first felt freed from Haven and his past.

Betty had been right. Everything she had told him, despite all her claims to the contrary, had boiled down to this: it was all in his head. He had conjured everything himself, from the baseless fears of his son's welfare to the ludicrous notion that the town itself had somehow achieved sentience and had descended upon him in some vague intent of revenge. He could almost laugh at it now.

He was so glad he had stayed an extra day with her, so he could show her what a really good roll in the hay felt like. He felt like he still had a post-coital buzz going. How many guys like him, he wondered, who didn't have a wife or girlfriend would envy him getting laid without having to pay for the privilege.

At least he could claim to have fallen into that pit only once, when he did it with that red-headed chick on one of his clandestine trips to Haven. Perhaps seeing that black shit all over his former wife soon after was some sort of cosmic retribution. At least it had finally shocked him into leaving Haven for good not long after.

As he guided the rig around a lazy turn, his cell phone warbled.

He tried to tell himself that his moment of unease had more to do with not wishing to distract himself from his driving on a still snowy road with the sun in his eyes. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to pull out the cell phone and lift it to eye level, using it to block the sun as he squinted at it.

The number was not any he knew, but nor was it a Haven extension. He laughed at his own silly fears and stuffed the phone in his pocket. Likely a wrong number or a solicitor. He let the voice mail take it and would listen to it later. Or maybe he would just delete it unheard. Why tempt fate when he was feeling so good?

He came out of the curve and lay heavy on the gas to get around a slowpoke in the right lane, then swung with little effort back into the lane. It was going to be a good day.

Richie stood stone-still at the bus stop, staring at the still open cell phone in his hand. He could still hear the tinny voice of his father announcing that he ought to leave a message and that his father would get back to him as soon as possible.

His fingers curled as if intending to flip the phone closed, but froze when he heard the little beep. His trembling fingers slowly opened, and after another moment's pause, he brought the cell phone to his face.

He let out a single, noisy exhalation, fogging the air. He swallowed and forced his throat to work, his voice shaky and stuttering. "H-hey, Dad ... It's Richie. I ... um ..."

Richie's heart hammered and blood pulsed in his ears. He opened his mouth again but his throat had closed up. He cleared his throat and sniffled once, giving one of his eyes an annoyed swipe with his fingers. He was not sure what possessed him to do this. He did not even have the potion in his hands yet, and he was already making grandiose plans.

But why would he not get it? He had gone the longest with a mother taken by the Darkness. If anyone was most deserving of it, he was, and it meant he could set right what he had screwed up in the first place.

"I did what you said, Dad," Richie said in a tremulous voice, despite his best efforts to sound confident and proud. "I-I stopped being a total dick. I'm helping my friends. I'm ... I-I'm doing that thing of mine, that ... I guess I never ... never mind, it's not ..."

His throat closed up again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Somewhere in the distance came the roar of an engine laboring against the cold.

"And I'm gonna help Mom," he said in a low voice. "I'm gonna get something soon that will let me help her. I'll get her back, Dad. You won't ... y-you won't see the black shit on her ever again."

He glanced at the school bus coming around the bend. He swallowed and wiped his eyes again. He cleared his throat and forced his voice to a more even cadence. "And I won't ever let that fucker get her again."

He snapped the phone closed and jammed it in his pocket. He wiped his eyes one last time as the bus lumbered to a stop, the doors opening with a loud squeal. He set his face hard, twisting it into the meanest frown he could muster, and stomped on board the bus as if angry with the world.

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