I can't believe I'm doing this!

Cassie realized that was not the first time those words had come to mind, but every time she had been convinced it would be the last, for she could not be in any stranger a situation.

She blushed as she stripped off her soaked panties, glancing nervously at the closed door of the classroom. She was grateful that, despite her aching lust, she had the presence of mind to select a classroom to which the afternoon announcements had been delivered. Said announcement was taped over the window inside the door.

Cassie had wanted to reconsider Richie's choice of location, but seeing him holding his erect cock made her forget everything else. He had insisted on doing it atop the teacher's desk, since it was something he always wanted to do.

Had she not been out of her mind with desire, she would have balked at their height off the floor. Whatever lingering protest bounced about in her head was lost when his hands slid around her hips and squeezed her ass cheeks.

Cassie straddled him, panting in anticipation. She closed her eyes and let out a deep, husky sigh as she sank on his cock and all fears of height vanished. She no longer cared how or where, she knew only that she finally had his cock inside her.

"Fuck, you're tight," Richie groaned.

She gyrated her hips just to feel his fullness inside her. She slowly leaned forward and placed a hand on either side of him, leaving little room to spare between her hands and the edges of the desk. She made sure her knees were equally secure before she began humping him.

The last time Cassie could remember being this horny was when Heather was manipulating them in her attempt to gain more energy to bring in a precognitive vision. Yet Heather could be convinced to let up before the constant arousal drove Cassie insane. Now she had no such recourse.

She heard Richie panting along with her, his hands gripping her ass cheeks and urging her hips to move faster and harder. Cassie obliged out of her own need rather than his, her rise slow and excruciating. She no longer glanced up at the door, for she no longer cared if anyone walked in on them. She had no intention of stopping.

Cassie leaned closer to him, angling her hips to get his cock to stroke her clit harder. She uttered a deep, quavering sigh, her body slapping against his, her breasts swaying and brushing his chest.

Richie's arms wrapped around her and pulled her down until her breasts were squeezed against him. She let out another ragged sigh as her nipples tingled and throbbed. She heard Richie panting hard in her ear, drilling his cock into her with such force that her whole body jerked with each thrust.

Cassie very much doubted her mother would recognize her. The woman would likely think she was watching someone who happened to have Cassie's face. Cassie was not sure she even recognized herself anymore. The Cassie who had started the semester with Melinda as her only real friend was not the same Cassie who was furiously fucking the boy who had been the object of her silly obsession.

What's going to happen when this is all over? Cassie thought, the split effect of the potion the only thing allowing her coherent thought as her pleasure rose, plateaued, and rose again. Are we still going to need sex with each other? Will we always have to be together after Haven?

Cassie gasped as her pussy strained for the last time. She clenched her teeth, a shrill whine escaping her lips as she hung at the excruciating edge. Richie tilted his head back, uttering a desperate and strained groan as his hips slammed into her until the drawers of the desk rattled.

Suddenly, Richie froze, his cock buried deep inside her. His lips lay right near her ear, but he made not a sound. His hips jerked hard, and she felt him throbbing. He finally let out a guttural, strained noise.

Cassie's pussy let go, and her remaining thoughts sailed over the edge with it. She clamped her jaw shut against the cry of ecstasy that wanted to be unleashed. Her orgasm reverberated first into her womb, then her entire body pulsed to the same rhythm. It was impossible to cry out, for her breathing had joined the same staccato cadence.

When she could breathe properly, she let out a long gasp. Richie pumped his cock a few more times, his erection lingering despite his waning climax. Cassie was unable to hold it in any longer, and she let out a short, sharp cry as her orgasm was briefly renewed.

This time, she could feel the energy as a tangible presence in her mind. When she closed her eyes, it appeared as a shimmering pool, like light made liquid. She wondered if she were the only one who could see it, just like she could see the curtain which bisected her psyche.

Cassie looked up, and half-expected to see Seeger standing there. Instead, the door remained closed, and she sensed no one lingering outside.

Cassie slowly drew back. Not only did her pussy ache from the intensity of her orgasm, but her thighs and hips were sore as well. Her knees stung where they were pressed to the wood. "I need to get down, Richie," Cassie said in a breathy voice.

"Oh man ..." Richie moaned, draping the back of his hand over his eyes. "What a fuck."

Cassie smiled faintly as she climbed down, wincing at the lingering discomfort in her knees. She rubbed them as she stood next to the desk. "Yes, it was nice, but I do wish we had something ... well, softer, to do it on."

Richie sat up and winced as well, rubbing the back of his neck and head. "Ouch! Yeah, I see what you mean. But man, that was so freaking cool! Right on the teacher's desk!"

Cassie's smile widened slightly as she gathered her clothes and began to dress. She paused with her panties halfway up her thighs. She sighed and dropped them to her ankles. "I wish I had thought to bring a fresh pair," she muttered as she stepped out of them and into her skirt instead.

Richie hopped off the desk. He glanced down at his now flaccid cock, and Cassie sensed the relief come off him in waves. "Shit, never thought I'd be glad to lose a hard-on."

"I just hope that gets both of us through the day," Cassie said. "I don't think I could do this again. I can't believe we didn't get caught."

Richie smirked as he scooped up his clothes. "Maybe old Seeger's looking the other way."

Cassie doubted that was the case, but she was at least glad Richie stopped calling him "Saggy-Seeger." "We better get to the cafeteria. I hope Ned managed to get something out of Heather we can use."

Ned did not consider himself the jealous type. He would feel like a hypocrite considering the number of times he did it with Heather. He even had an itching to do it again, driven by the link he still shared with her, no doubt. She might even be willing, but he'd never know whether she was doing it because she really wanted to, or only because her mind was already addled by Bendon.

Yet the longer it took for Cassie and Richie to arrive, the more antsy he felt.

He figured it was bound to happen sooner or later. For all the lip service they paid to being open-minded about their rotating sexual partners, it did not change what love did to a person's brain. It seemed hardwired to equate love with monogamy. He had seen Jason more than once get a case of ruffled feathers whenever Richie ogled Melinda. Now the same thing was happening to him, and it felt like a swarm of mosquitoes taking bites out of him one at a time.

He looked behind him for perhaps the tenth time and caught Cassie and Richie rushing inside. He waved away the metaphoric mosquito swarm; seeing Cassie return had satisfied his male ego, even to the point of smirking and saying, "Have fun, kids?"

Cassie blushed. "It was ... satisfying, let's just say that."

Richie snorted and grinned like the cat that just ate the canary.

Ned ignored him lest the mosquitoes come back. "Didn't have a chance ta tell ya before ya went off. I think I found something we can use with Heather."

He told them about the laptop and the webcam. "Well, that's fine, Ned, but how do we get at it?" Cassie asked. "Doesn't someone have to be using it to take any pictures?"

"Yeah, but ten ta one says that puppy is on the internet. Anything that's on the internet can be hacked."

"Hey, yeah, I heard about stuff like that!" Richie said. "Turning webcams on without people knowing. Most people are too dumb to know when it's on. Fuck, there's whole freakin' sites dedicated to pics taken by webcam without people knowing."

Ned smirked. "Trust ya ta know that one."

"Oh, but we've never done anything like that," Cassie said.

"Yeah, but ya got Jason's li'l red book on that very subject. If Heather was able ta use it ta break inta the City Hall records, I can use it ta get inta Miss Prissy Poobah's laptop."

"If he even documented something like that."

"Well, I won't know until I look. Can ya meet me sometime over the weekend and get that ta me?"

"Certainly, but ... you don't own a computer."

Ned nodded. "That be the one flaw in my otherwise brilliant plan. But I'm gonna take care of that after lunch."

Cassie sighed. "Oh dear. What are you going to do? Is this going to upset me?"

"Perish the thought. I intend not to tread inta Mordor an' attract Laura Sauron's all-seeing eye. I will work through the great wizard instead, Seeger the White."

Richie sniggered.

Cassie shook her head. "I was right. It is going to upset me."

"Babe, if he really wants this, he's gotta bend over backwards ta help us. And, frankly, I got bit by the same bug that bit--" Ned jerked a thumb towards Richie. "--Frodo here. I wanna see Bendon out."

Richie nodded, then frowned. "Did you just call me a Hobbit?"

"Yer lucky I didn't call ya Smeagol."

"Even if you get Seeger to let you use the school computers, we don't have any guarantee it will work," Cassie said. "Even if the laptop is conveniently pointed at the living room, most people close the lid when they're not using it."

"Yeah, I realize that. Still bendin' my mind ta that problem."

Cassie paused. "Unless ... unless I ... I influence Heather."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean like control her?"

"No, not control," Cassie said in a sharp voice. "I doubt I could counter Ms. Bendon. She's just too powerful."

Ned was hoping Cassie would suggest using her abilities. He did not want to ask himself, not knowing how much the "angel incident" still rattled her. "D'ya think ya could do it, babe? Influence her enough ta nudge the laptop open fer us?"

"I don't know. The act of trying might alert Ms. Bendon to what we're doing."

"So what?" Richie countered. "What the fuck is she gonna do to us? Suspend us? Expel us? I'd be happy not to see this sorry-ass place again."

"Gotta agree with the Hobbit here," said Ned. "We won't be in any worse a position concernin' Heather's welfare."

"Unless Ms. Bendon decides to punish Heather for it," Cassie said. "And you're forgetting something, Ned. All this hangs on Diane getting Heather away from Ms. Bendon. What if she fails, we help get Ms. Bendon fired, and she moves away with Heather?"

Ned frowned. "Shit."

"Okay, so, we don't use the pics right away," Richie said. "We just hold onto them until we can get Heather away from that bitch, and then we shove them in her face."

"And then Mr. Seeger is gone when we can't produce the evidence," Cassie said glumly.

Ned scratched his head. "Babe, we can't do everything fer everybody. I say we go with Richie's plan: get the pics, an' if Diane frees Heather, we give 'em ta Seeger and he nails Bendon ta the wall. If Diane fails, we sit on 'em an' buy Seeger a retirement gift."

Cassie sighed and shook her head. Ned knew her long enough to know that it was not directed at his statement. She had yet to make the leadership of the Harbingers hers; she still seemed to think it entailed making everyone happy.

Ned believed Seeger had made his own bed and had to lie in it, and he figured Seeger knew that. Otherwise, he would think twice about the request he was going to make of the man.

"I don't like this, I feel like there's just too much going on." Cassie glanced around, stepped closer to Ned, and gestured for Richie to lean in. "Something I haven't had a chance to tell any of you yet. I ... I got a call from Jason's father last night."

"You what?!" Richie cried. "You got a call from--?!"

"Pipe down, Frodo, or the Ringwraiths'll hear ya," Ned said, jerking his head towards where Jason usually sat.

"He said he wants to free his wife from the Darkness," Cassie said.

Ned nodded. "Uh-huh. An' I can say I'm a space shuttle. Don't mean I can haul satellites inta orbit."

"Yes, I know what Jason has said about him, but ... I want to believe he's sincere. He doesn't want anything from us except the time when ..." She lowered her voice. "When we all attempt our rescues."

"How the fuck does he know about that?" Richie demanded.

"He doesn't, not the details. He knows what's happening to Jason and is making the assumption that we're going to do something about it. He just wants to make his attempt at the same time so the Darkness is forced to defend on multiple fronts."

Ned frowned. "Hrm."

"Isn't that what we want?" Cassie pleaded.

"Yeah, man, we already talked about me getting my Mom back at same time Cassie gets Jason," Richie said. "Fuck, if Jason has a chance to get his own mother back--"

"Yeah, I know, I know," Ned said more sharply than he had intended. He sighed and shook his head. "Man. This ain't a barrel o' worms anymore, it's a whole damn tanker truck."

"Tell me about it," Cassie said. "I didn't tell him anything yet. I said I would get back to him, though that alone is admitting that we're doing something. You're afraid of the same thing I am, aren't you?"

"That he wants ta stop us an' made this up ta get the date and time from ya? Does an orc shit in the woods?"

"I can't make this decision without being sure," Cassie said. "So I'm going to try something."

Ned raised an eyebrow. "Now is this gonna upset me?"

"I'm going to meet with Mr. Conner in person over the weekend."

"I'm going with ya."

"No, you're not. Please, Ned, I need to do this alone. I need to be absolutely sure I'm sensing his feelings properly. With too many people around, I have trouble discerning one from the other. Especially someone who has strong feelings for me all the time."

Ned slowly smiled. "Ya can sense that from me all the time? Really?"

Cassie smiled faintly and squeezed his hand. "Really. I rather like it."

Richie rolled his eyes. "While you two lovebirds go making everyone sick, I'm gonna get some chow. I'm starving."

Cassie glanced at him as he walked away. "Actually, I need something to eat as well. I'll be back in a bit."

"Sure thing, babe," Ned said, grinning from ear to ear. He wondered why in hell he had been jealous in the first place.

Diane wished she and Heather had the same lunch period as Cassie and the others. She felt she could use some sort of backup, or at least ideas on how to start the conversation.

She would would be waiting forever if she let Heather start. They had stood there for a full ten minutes without exchanging a word. For a moment, she no longer cared about the information she was supposed to get. She could not help but feel hurt at being ignored, despite it not being Heather's fault, but it at least gave her the motivation to finally speak.

"So is that the next step?" Diane said in a curt but quavering voice. "Is that what your Mistress wants of you now?"

Heather gave her a strange look. "I'm sorry?" she said in a confused but still dreamy voice.

"I can't imagine your Mistress wants me around anymore."

Heather stared. "What are you talking about?"

Diane dropped her fork to her plate. "Do I have to spell it out for you? What have you been doing for the last ten minutes?"

Heather looked confused. "Eating lunch with you."

Diane sighed and blinked back tears. "I guess I should be happy I was remembered in there somewhere." She picked up her fork, but her lunch suddenly seemed as appetizing as garbage.

Heather uttered a soft sigh. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I'm just ... my ... my thoughts are elsewhere."

Diane wanted to counter with "your thoughts are in Bendon's twat" but she restrained herself. It was not hard, as she had trouble saying words like "twat" even in the best of times. "I-I'm sorry. Heather, I know you don't need this from me now."

"It's all right," Heather said, but Diane wondered just how perfunctory it was given the lack of emotion save for the low level of desire not directed at her. "I'm sorry if this has been hard for you."

Diane wanted to rail that it wouldn't be if Heather were more open to the Harbingers helping her, but that boat had sailed the moment she drank the potion. Now it was up to her alone. She tried not to worry that, of all who had consumed the potion, she was the only one not constantly horny. She tried to tell herself that it was not because the potion was a dud, but because she could no longer store sexual energy.

She tried but often failed more than she succeeded.

"I just don't want to lose you," Diane said despite how trite it sounded to her ears.

Heather gave Diane a faint smile. "We'll always have the weeks when I'm not staying at Mistress' place."

"But for how long? Right now I feel you're a million miles away. On the weeks you're not with Bendon, you're a thousand miles from me."

Heather paused. "It wasn't that bad last time," she said in a wispy voice barely audible above the din of the lunchroom.

"Last time," Diane said. "What about this time? What about Monday? Will you even want to be with me anymore?"

"Of course I will. What made you think I wouldn't?"

Diane was about to reply with what she really wanted to say when she finally remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She could not have asked for any more perfect a segue. As she was terrible at acting deceptive, she took a few moments to get everything straight in her mind and to shore up her resolve. "We ... we go through the motions ... I don't have any sense of the romantic."

Heather looked taken aback. "Romantic?"

"Yes, romantic. Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I don't want romance every now and then."

It helped that Diane was speaking a truth. If they had not had the Darkness, and she had managed to come out with her feelings in a more settled backdrop instead, she would have wanted more wooing and less whoopie.

Heather looked at her in total confusion, and Diane resisted the urge to sigh in irritation. "Do you remember when I first came out with my feelings towards you?" Diane said. "That fall day along the boardwalk with all the leaves carpeting the ground? God, that was gorgeous."

Heather hesitated for what seemed an eternity, then slowly nodded. "Yes, I remember. I remember you being nervous as hell."

Diane's heart melted. Some of the real Heather was still left. Unfortunately, another part of her melted as well, and she squeezed her legs together to contain the heat. "A-and you were really excited, but confused," Diane said, hoping her voice did not sound too husky.

Heather cocked her head. "And that was romantic to you?"

Had Heather asked the question in anything like an amused or mocking manner, Diane would have simply slunk away somewhere to die. Instead, there was a genuine curiosity in Heather's voice. "Maybe it's silly, I don't know, I--"

"No, it's not silly." Heather paused another long moment. Diane could almost see the gears turning very slowly in her lover's mind, like a mechanism having been left dormant for years and only now fighting against the grit and rust which had gathered on it. "I ... I thought it was nice as well."

"I guess it is sort of unconventional," Diane said. "Not like the typical, I don't know, moonlit nights or tropical sunsets or whatnot. I mean ... take your parents for instance ... I'm sure they had their things they considered romantic. Or places."

Diane mentally kicked herself. Was that too abrupt? The longer Heather paused, the more Diane felt like she had placed a sign above her head with the word SPY in giant letters of glowing neon.

"Well, yes, actually," Heather said. "Funny I would think of that now, but I guess it is kind of like our place."

"What was it?" Diane demanded.

"Mom mentioned it to me once when she was giving me some standard spiel about dating and sex and whatnot. She mentioned someplace along the canal."

Diane looked surprised. "The canal? The one that runs through downtown?"

She realized it was a dumb question, as the town had exactly one canal. "Yes, that one," Heather said in a very matter-of-fact voice.

"But it's not very ... well, inviting." That was the least she could say. The canal branched off from the river at the north end of town and ran straight through the center of Haven. It had long since ceased to be a source of drinking water. By the time it reached the other end just a quarter mile short of Fairview, it was murky with algae and the flotsam of a throwaway society.

"There's a place near where it branches from the river," Heather said. "I've seen it once. It's a little boardwalk on Crown Drive, just east of where Main Street becomes the state highway. There's a patch of wildflower just on the other side of the canal. It really gets blooming when spring turns to summer. Mom always liked flowers before ... well ... anyway, that's what she told me."

Diane's excitement soared. She knew exactly where that was.

Her elation was tempered by the fact that now she pined to go there that summer, hand and hand with Heather. She could only hope that she would have the opportunity.

"So ... so you see what I mean," Diane said, her ability to maintain the conversation faltering now that she had accomplished her task. "You see what I'm talking about. I want more moments like that."

Heather nodded. "I don't know when that will happen."

Now the conversation was becoming too painful. "I-I'm just glad you seem to be thinking about it, too," Diane said. "We always have great sex, but that's not everything."

Heather nodded, and Diane felt it was a bit forced. What else would Bendon ever do with her other than sex? Did she ever show her slave any sort of genuine affection? Was Bendon even capable of that or had Nyssa drained it from her permanently?

Not even the Harbingers believed sex was all there was. Look at Cassie and Ned, or Jason and Melinda. She felt bad for Richie, being the odd man out. She wondered if he ever resented her being a lesbian or Heather being in love with her. It left Richie out in the cold.

She could not imagine anyone in the Harbingers maintaining any sort of normal relationship outside their own circle. The people whom the Harbingers had rescued from minions of the Darkness were all too ready to return to their normal, mundane lives. Susan acted as if Melissa were just a bad dream, and Anne had moved out of town to a brighter future rather than killed herself with an overdose of tranquilizers.

"It may have to do for awhile, Diane," Heather said in a hesitant voice, averting her eyes.

Did Diane again see something of the old Heather in those eyes? She hoped so. Her greatest nightmare would be entering Heather's head for a confrontation with the force which controlled her only to find it a black and empty void, like Cassie had described Stephanie's mind once her spirit had abandoned it.

Diane said nothing in reply, as she had no words, and for once welcomed the silence which followed. She engaged in little more than small talk until the end of the lunch period. She exchanged a perfunctory kiss with Heather and dashed off.

"Richie!" she cried out as she saw him turning away from his locker. "I got it. I got the location."

"Is it in this town?" Richie said.

Diane stared. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because when I think romantic, I don't think of Haven, the Armpit of the Rockies."

"Oh for ... not all of it is bad."

Richie shrugged. "So where is this less-armpitty place at?"

"It's near the canal, up at--"

Richie frowned and tugged his belt. "Now I know you're shitting me. You can practically walk on the water of that canal."

"Not right up where it branches from the river," Diane said in an exasperated voice. "It's right where the state highway heads north out of town."

Richie shifted his weight. "Wait, is that where that huge-ass field of flowers is?"

"Yes, that's it!" Diane sighed when she saw Richie wrinkle his nose. "Now what?"

"That place always make my nose run. About as romantic as a turd."

"Nevertheless, it's where Heather's mother went, so we have to go there, too. The flowers are not going to be growing in winter."

Richie looked about to protest, then shook his head. "Never mind. Don't fucking pay attention to me, I just like to bitch. Listen, I'm gonna need a few minutes after I get home before I come get you, okay?"

"Oh, sure. What do you have to ..." Diane trailed off when she spotted the rather prominent bulge in the crotch of his jeans. "Oh," she said in a tiny voice.

"Fuck," Richie muttered. "I really thought lunchtime would hold me."

Diane wondered what lunch would have to do with it, until she remembered seeing Cassie's hair a bit frazzled soon after her lunch period. Her eyes widened. They did it in SCHOOL? Diane thought. She was not sure whether to admire them or admonish them.

"So just sit tight until I get to you, okay?" Richie said.

Diane nodded. "I won't leave the house until you get there. I'm hoping this will be a short vision. I mean, Heather's mother obviously never left Haven. It will likely just give us a clue as to where to go next."

"To be perfectly honest, Mr. Lussander," said Seeger. "I had thought the day fast approaching in which you'd be sitting here for reasons other than of your own choice."

Seeger sometimes could not believe his own words. Here he was on what was possibly his next to last full day at the helm of Haven High School talking with one of the very group who could be his only salvation, and he still fell into his role as if he expected it to last forever. Never mind the irony that at the start of the semester he had wished for retirement with the wistfulness of a child eying a shiny new gaming console.

Ned offered one of those cheesy grins Seeger had so grown to hate coming from anyone in the student body. "Well, ya know what they say: necessity is the mother of strange bedfellows."

"Before you choose to so heinously mix any more metaphors into even more horrid mutations of the English language, perhaps you ought to get to the point."

Ned grinned. "Always like listenin' ta ya, Mr. Seeger. Ya got a way with words. Anyway, yeah, I got a favor ta ask."

"Does this pertain to the task I had asked of Miss Kendall?"

"It do indeed, Mr. S., it do indeed."

Seeger tried not to cringe. He had to remind himself that Ned was among those few students whose grades were generally above reproach. When Seeger first started interacting more with the Harbingers, he had inquired as to the quality of Ned's writing assignments with his English literature teacher. Apparently, his written grammar was above reproach as well.

"To be honest with you, Seymour," the teacher had said. "I'm guessing the way he talks is either from habit, or he thinks it sounds cool. He is from New York City, you know."

The last statement had been spoken as if that had been the end of the debate, that everything he needed to know about Ned was summed up in that one statement. He had since learned that none of the Harbingers were that easy to read.

He had the disconcerting feeling that some -- like Cassie -- could read him.

"What do you need, Mr. Lussander?"

"I need ya ta give me access ta the school this weekend."

Seeger raised an eyebrow. "For what sort of activity?"

"Ah, ya see, that's the problem. I need ya ta let me inta the computer lab and ... no questions asked."

Seeger let out a long sigh and wiped his face with his hand. "You realize you have likely already answered my question with that statement."

"Yeah, I figgered. Don't mean I need it no less."

"Any less, Mr. Lussander!" Seeger exploded.

Ned's eyes widened for a second. "Ah ... sorry," he said in a more contrite voice, his grin fading.

Seeger shook his head. "No, I should be the one to apologize. Moving on. Now, you realize, I hope, the position you are putting me in? I am conspiring against Laura because of the way she has violated school policy and quite possibly the law. Now you're asking me to flout both myself."

Ned shook his head. "Nah, that ain't it."

"Of course that is it, Mr. Lussander. If you intend on any hacking activity, that is clearly--"

"That don't be what I mean."

Seeger sighed and steeled himself. Ned's grammar seemed to get worse with each sentence. Now he wondered if the boy were doing it on purpose. "Then kindly enlighten me," he said in a tight voice.

"It ain't about school policy. It ain't even about her using the student body as her own little perverted sexual playground. It's about evil, Mr. S."

Seeger blinked and stared. "What?"

Ned nodded. "We've all been kinda dancin' around it, ya know? I ain't 'xactly a religious fella, but I know evil when I see it. Evil is thinkin' it's a lark ta get inta teenagers' heads and make 'em do what you want. Evil is turnin' a student inta a sex slave. Don't matter what god ya worship, that can't be remotely considered not evil in any Good Book, whoever wrote it."

Seeger was stunned, not so much by the insight from someone he had vastly underestimated, but in so efficiently pointing at the elephant in the room. Seeger had wanted to couch all of it in something more tangible, something more down-to-earth. Surely he could not go to the school board and insist on Laura's termination because she was "evil."

Then again, he had not wanted to see the mind control for what it was, either.

"Point taken, Mr. Lussander," was all Seeger could trust his voice to say at that moment.

"Hey, the Harbingers have been havin' ta do stuff we don't like," Ned said. "Problem with this kinda enemy, Mr. S., is that it makes ya break yer own morals ta fight them. That, in my book, is what 'evil' means."

Seeger had not heard a more succinct and apposite definition of the word in his whole life. "Tell me, Mr. Lussander. Have you decided on a career yet?"

Ned gave him a nonplussed look. "Career? Don't know if I had ever really stopped ta think about it. I'm kind inta science. Mebbe not to the brainiac degree that Jason is, but that's mostly 'cuz I tend ta gravitate towards geology and stuff like that."

Seeger almost told him that he would do well as a philosopher, but it sounded strange even to himself. "Sorry ... anyway ... yes, I see your point."

"So I don't really like havin' ta ask it in the first place."

"And you really are sure this will help oust Laura?"

"That's the intention, anyway," Ned drawled. "No promises. Some of it's kinda a long shot, and I'm gonna be doin' this by the seat of my pants."

Seeger tilted his head. "Do not take this the wrong way, please, but you do not strike me as the hacker type."

"That's 'cuz I ain't. I couldn't hack my way inta an adding machine. But I got good notes."

"Notes," Seeger said tonelessly. "You've lost me, Mr. Lussander."

"When Jason realized the sh ... er ... the excrement was gonna hit the rotary airflow device, he ... um ..." Ned paused. "Not sure I should tell ya this."

"I give you my word that it will be off the record." Seeger paused and sighed. "Though I can guess what you are about to tell me."

"Mr. S., lemme tell ya, when they were handin' out the white and black hats ta all the hackers in the world, Jason's got a stack of white hats a mile high."

Seeger was again astounded. He was finding out things about the Harbingers he could have happily continued not knowing. Somehow this bothered him more than their sexual proclivities. He had always seen Jason as the pinnacle of the student community. Perhaps it was fitting that the only one he had put on a pedestal was the first one to crash down from it.

"If it weren't for his skills at that, we woulda been up ... ah ... poop's creek."

"If I let you do this, is there any chance that you will be discovered?"

"If I do it right, hopefully not."

"That is not very reassuring."

"Hey, everything could go smooth as glass, I get inta her laptop, and then find I can't do squat. This is a cr ... well, I don't have no other word. It's a crapshoot, Mr. S."

Seeger's eyebrows rose. "Her laptop? Do you believe she has evidence on it?"

"Let's jus' say her laptop might give us a li'l window inta her world."

Seeger wiped his face again and leaned back. "I should never have asked this of you all."

"Evil, Mr. S."

"That is irrelevant! You are all children! You should not be asked to shoulder such burdens!"

Ned placed the tip of his finger to his nose.

Seeger finally understood. For all his good intentions to let the adults wage the battle, the fact of the matter was that those he would call children had been inducted into an army which he had not even known existed until a month ago.

"Very well, Mr. Lussander," Seeger said in a crisp voice. He grabbed a post-it note pad, scribbled on it, tore the page off and shoved it at Ned. "My cell phone. Call me when you need me to come over. I will be here within twenty minutes unless you have caught me at mealtime."

Ned took the number and nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it." He grinned. "Y'know, I got a good feeling about this. I think we'll pull through."

"If you do, you will have my eternal gratitude."

"Nah, don't need all that. Jus' invite me over and offer me a beer."

"Of course, Mr. Lussander." He narrowed his eyes. "When you're twenty-one."

Ned smirked. "Knew I couldn't sneak one past ya. That's what I like about ya. I really mean that."

Seeger's expression softened, as did his voice when he said, "Yes. Yes, I believe you do."

Mike struggled to sit up in his seat, rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to rid them of the grain from nearly a full day with little sleep. The cab creaked, and a whistling sound rose like a nasal soprano somewhere on the passenger side where the windshield met the strut between it and the door. It rose in volume until it seemed to pierce through both ears and into his brain. More distant metallic groans rose from somewhere behind him until the banshee finally chose to subside for a bit.

He flinched when a thin branch smacked against the driver-side door, and the rig swayed as another roar of nature's fury swept around it. He wanted to blame his lack of sleep on the weather, but he would be lying to himself, just as he had been through his false good mood. It had taken a near turnover soon after turning on to I-15 to convince him of that.

Mike thumped the steering wheel and yanked out his cell phone. He flipped it open and stared at the number that had recently called. He was not sure what made him so reluctant to listen to the message, but he again set it aside and grabbed his weather radio. He yanked the antenna out with his teeth and clicked through the stations until he heard the familiar synthesized voice with the Shatner cadence.

"The National Weather Service. Has issued a. High wind warning. For the towns of. Dillon. Lima. Leadore. Dubois. Mud Lake. Roberts. Ashton. West Yellowstone ..."

Mike swore through the rest. All those up front he had to go through or near. He quieted down only when he realized it had finished its painfully long recitation of places he normally would never give a shit about.

" ...in excess of. 60 miles per hour. With gusts between. 80 and 90 miles per hour. This warning. Remains in effect. Until 5 PM Mountain Time."

Mike pretended to throw the radio at the passenger side window when the cab rocked and whistled through another gust.

"...of high profile vehicles. Are advised to avoid. Unnecessary travel. Especially along north-south highways. Such as. I-15..."

Mike flicked off the radio and tossed it into the passenger seat. He thumped his fists on the wheel. He had been through winds like this before. Just like snowstorms, you just had to pull over and ride it out. He would have done it sooner had he realized that moving along the highway despite all indications he should not was the equivalent of running away from his problems.

He had the absolute strangest sensation late the afternoon before. For a moment, he had felt like he was two people, both sitting in the same seat and driving the same rig. Had it not disappeared seconds later, he would have pulled over and declared himself mentally unfit to be behind the wheel.

Soon after finally pulling over during the night due to the rising winds, he had settled down to sleep. Normally, wind never disturbed his slumber. It used to drive Sandra crazy when Randall was buffeted by one of the late winter windstorms which often plagued the east side of the Rockies. He would be snoring away dead to the world as the house shook, and Sandra up all night worried that the cottonwood on the west side of the house would come down and crash into Richie's bedroom.

He had managed to fall asleep, only to be jolted awake by even more vivid dreams of his son. At first he thought he was having some sort of erotic fantasy channeled through Richie, since every one involved sex.

A frantic, dark undertone ran through all this intense sex-play, as if he were doing it to save his life. In the last one, which precluded any chance of getting any more shut-eye before the windstorm was over, he finally recognized the identity of Richie's partner. He had never felt more ashamed of a boner in all his post-pubescent life.

That was not even the worst of it. In the last dream, near the end, he had felt an odd presence. He had no idea how he had found it; he only knew that it had felt like rage which had been liquefied and pooled into a viscous, acrid blob which seethed as if on a slow boil. As alien as it seemed, something about it was vaguely familiar, enough to frighten him back to wakefulness.

He would rather return to fucking a relative than risk seeing that mass of boiling wrath let loose. The only time he recalled visualizing something like that when he had scraped enough money together some six years after the divorce to seek psychological counseling. In his case, it had been guilt. The shrink had managed to get him to see it in that manner as a means of allowing a controlled release.

He was never sure whether he had really released it or just bundled it away in smaller, more manageable packets of emotional grief.

He sighed, the sound of which was lost in another piercing whistle. He closed his eyes and felt the cab rock him back and forth. He tried to think of Betty and recapture some of the joy she had left him. Instead, his thoughts immediately came back to what she said about Richie.

(I just have this feeling that if you ever did go back to see your son, I'll likely never see you again)

Mike opened his eyes and shook his head. He was not going back. Dammit, he couldn't! Why couldn't Betty see that? Why couldn't he see that? He obviously wasn't, if he was bringing up the idea.

Mike had considered another clandestine visit. He would take some time off, then try to come at it from the west, through all the back roads and hiking trails.

Then what? What if he did see that black shit still around his ex-wife? What if he saw it on Richie now? What would he do? What could he do? He had the odd sensation that something was going to happen, maybe in only a few days. He'd never get to Haven in time to ...

To what? Stop something? Help it? Applaud?

Like with the maddening windstorm, he could do little more than sit and wait. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to be as exciting as a football game between two powerhouse rivals and as dangerous as a gladiator match in the Roman Colosseum.

And, lucky him, he now held a ticket for a front-row seat.

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