Being intentionally awake after midnight felt utterly alien to Cassie. She lay on her bed with her arms wrapped around herself, the dark stillness like a foreign dimension. At night, she felt far more at home in the dreamverse than anywhere else. She was not frightened of the dark; she felt out of place, as if the physical constants of reality were just slightly off.

She uttered a husky sigh as she resisted the urge to squirm. Her pussy ached and oozed, and the heat within its folds felt like a glowing coal. She had long since given up using any form of self-pleasuring to sate her. She had only one recourse now.

If she had interpreted his emotions correctly. If he would allow himself to cross the line between fantasy and reality. If she could bring herself to do it.

She had thought midnight to be the ideal time to leave her room. By then the servants were reduced to a skeleton staff, and none would be in the upper floors where the bedrooms lay unless specifically summoned. Her mother never went to bed later than ten, and her father had followed at 10:30. She assumed that was when Mr. Giani had retired.

Cassie glanced at the clock just as the digits changed to 12:18 AM. She writhed despite her best efforts to suppress it. She had left her panties off so she would not go through them so fast, but she was not about to leave the room without it.

She forced herself to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed only to pause again. Part of her insisted she was out of her mind for doing this, which roused the specter that her mind had been altered, either by the spirit which had plagued her Projection travels or by the potion itself.

"This is just expediency," she whispered into the quiet. "Nothing more. I-I won't be like this when this is over. Mrs. Radson even thought so."

Yet no more conviction existed in the last statement than in anything else she could say. This was all a great unknown even to Debby, who very likely could have said anything to Cassie just to avoid panic.

Cassie finally stood. She shed her sheer nightgown and padded naked across the bedroom. She shivered at the idea of leaving the room like this; then there would be little doubt as to her intentions when she entered the guest suite.

Cassie stopped at the dresser and said, "I'm about to have sex with one of my father's business partners."

She had to hear what it sounded like to her own ears, but it was not as shocking as she had hoped. Perhaps if it had, it would have stopped her.

Cassie opened the dresser and for the first time wished she had more variety in underwear. She abandoned her first idea and stepped into the closet. There she found a flowing white nightgown with ruffled edges and pink trim. She had not worn it in several years, as was evident when she wrapped it around herself. It felt tight across her bosom, and the bottom lay just above her knees.

She sashed it and let out a tremulous sigh. Her nipples tingled when they slid against the silken material as she stepped towards the door.

As she cracked the door open, she wondered how many times she had sneaked about the mansion as a child. Whatever thrill she may have felt in reliving those moments was lost in her immediate need. Her pussy flared hot in anticipation as she slipped out of her room and closed the door behind her.

She paused and cocked an ear. She heard very faint sounds drifting up from the first floor, likely from the nighttime cleaning staff. She tiptoed down the curving hallway, holding her breath as she passed the top of the large staircase, letting it out only when she could no longer see the main hallway below.

The hall grew darker as she progressed, the guest suite located near the end of the corridor. She reached the door and raised her hand to knock when she realized what a foolish gesture it was. This was not a guest bedroom but a suite. It was the size of a luxury hotel room, complete with its own living room, lounge, and bathroom. By the time she knocked loud enough to be heard from the bedroom, she would surely have alerted someone else to her presence.

She grasped the great brass handle and nudged the door inward just to ensure it was not locked. To her relief, the lights were on. She turned around and backed into the suite, watching the hall until she had closed the door and engaged the lock.

"Well, good evening."

Cassie gasped and spun around, eyes wide. Her hand fluttered to her bosom, her heart pounding.

The first room of the suite was the lounge. A large plush sofa stood against the right wall, facing a flat-screen TV which filled the left wall. Just beyond the sofa was a small bar with a fully-stocked liquor cabinet and a sink.

Mr. Giani sat upon the sofa in a satin robe, one hand cradling a half-full brandy snifter. He bowed his head and gave Cassie a smile. "Or should I say, good morning, given the hour."

Cassie swallowed, everything she thought she was going to say having flown from her head. She wished she had no need for words; only one thing really mattered to her body at that moment.

No, I can't just throw myself at him! Cassie thought as she toyed with the sash of her robe. She forced her hands to her sides, determined to maintain some degree of elegance. It would at least make her feel less like a common slut.

She stepped away from the door. "Um ... yes, good morning. I ... I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

She eyed his drink. She had not recalled him accepting anything her father had offered earlier in the way of alcohol. Now she had to ask herself just how much had he drunk before she arrived?

When he put down the glass and stood, every movement was smooth and deliberate. He stepped away from the sofa and folded his hands behind his back. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Miss Kendall?"

"Please, call me Cassie," she replied. "I just ..."

She trailed off, her eyes widening. There was no mistaking it now. She had indeed read him correctly. He was very good at maintaining a polite facade, but that was as far as it went.

"Yes?"

"Um ... this ... this is kind of hard to put into words, Mr. Giani."

"Fair is fair, I say. You may call me Marco."

"Marco," Cassie said in a soft voice. Her nipples tingled madly as she drew her next breath. "I wish ... I wish to spend some time with you tonight."

Marco hesitated before taking a step closer. "Is that so, Cassie? And, may I ask, in what capacity?"

Cassie understood. He was not going to read between the lines. She had to make the advance. That way it was clear he had not solicited her. She felt desire radiating from him like a heat lamp.

Cassie searched for the right words and found none. She tugged the sash open, paused, then parted the robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. It fell to a crumpled heap behind her, the tiny breath of air it stirred brushing against her pussy and doing nothing to cool her lust.

Marco's eyes roamed over her naked body, lingering first on her pert breasts before following the curve of her torso and hips, then flicking to her damp and swollen nether regions.

"Magnificent," Marco said in a breathless voice. "You are as beautiful naked as I had suspected you would be."

Cassie smiled faintly at the praise and shivered in anticipation.

He stepped to within arm's reach, but kept his hands behind his back. "Was I right in what I saw back in the lounge? Did I see what I thought I had in your eyes?"

"Yes," Cassie said in a husky voice, though her cheeks now became as warm as her pussy. "I ... I wanted you then, but I couldn't act on it, of course."

Marco looked thoughtful. "There is one thing I must ask you, and, please, answer me truthfully."

Cassie nodded. Her breath had become a soft pant.

"Are you here of your own will, or did your father send you?"

Cassie was too stunned to reply at first. "My own will," she finally said. "My father would never ... if ... if he knew I was ..."

She clamped her mouth shut. Was that the wrong answer? Would he have preferred if ...

He stepped forward and placed his hands upon her shoulders. Even that light, nonsexual touch made her shiver with desire.

"Yes," Marco said in a voice which only now began to betray his feelings. "Yes, I believe you."

He ran his hands slowly down her sides, eliciting a soft, breathy moan. His hands held her hips for a moment, then nudged her into turning around. Her heart thundered as his hands slid back up, and her legs trembled when he cupped her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"And I believe you truly are desirous of me," Marco whispered in her ear. "Just as I am of you."

He drew her to him, and she whimpered when she felt the bulge of his erection against her backside.

"I would not normally do this with someone so young, but ... but you are too beautiful, and I suspect you have not come to be deflowered. You act as a woman of experience despite your youth." He slipped his hand between her legs and found the center of her desire. She shuddered and rocked her hips to his light strokes. "And I suspect there is quite a lot you have done that your father would not approve of."

Cassie struggled to think through the haze of mounting pleasure. She had been so wrapped up in her own desires that she had not seen the obvious. Why was he so receptive? Why did he happen to be awake past midnight? Had he somehow been prepared for her?

As if in response to her query, for a fleeting moment she felt a presence at the edge of her senses, a flicker of amusement like the glimmer of a distant lighthouse before being swallowed up by the fog.

She was too horny to be angry with him.

She barely remembered the transition; the next thing she knew, she was being lowered onto his bed. His robe was off, his cock long, hard, and pulsing. His face maintained a controlled, dignified look despite the desire which burned in his dark eyes.

He entered her slowly, but she was too needy to wait. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him inside her to a brief spike of amusement from him. He smiled and obliged, thrusting hard and deep, her hips rocking in perfect concert.

"Yes, you are indeed a woman of experience," Marco said in a deep but breathy voice.

She would have given him a similar compliment had her mind not been a tumult of her own emotions and his. He drew closer and angled his thrusts to maximize her pleasure. Her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, brushing against his wiry chest hair.

She could have stepped back and observed her tryst from a less lust-addled perspective but refrained. She wanted the entire experience, despite how guilty she was sure she would feel later.

Or was she only fooling herself? How much had she dwelled on her previous trysts with strangers? Had they really bothered her that much, or was that only wishful thinking?

Cassie gasped and panted as her pleasure plateaued, and her pussy strained, only to send her higher still. His breath grew heavy and short, his body pressed to hers and squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts against his chest. His arms wrapped around her as his thrusts grew more urgent.

She sensed he was close. As if acting upon that cue, her pussy strained hard, her legs almost seizing. She tilted her head back, her fingers curling into the firm muscle of his arms.

Marco let out a long, guttural moan into her ear and slowed to a single long plunge into her depths. Her orgasm exploded against the press of his body to hers, and she heard him utter a tiny gasp as her pussy throbbed and squeezed his cock.

He uttered something in Italian and gave her a few last slow thrusts with his still firm cock. She found her voice only after overcoming her sensory overload, letting out a shrill cry as her pussy throbbed without seeming end even as his erection flagged. As if still sensing her need, he kept himself pressed to her until she was finally spent.

Cassie closed her eyes, gasping too hard to speak.

"You have ... the stamina ... of someone ... twice your age ... dear Cassie," Marco said between pants. He paused to recover his breath before he spoke again. "To be honest, I am not quite sure what came over me. I am not in the habit of bedding those so young."

"If it helps any, I don't usually do this with older men," Cassie said in a soft voice, hoping it would remain the case in the future. "I apologize if I caused you any grief."

He smiled. "Not at all, but we will need to keep this quiet, you understand."

Cassie nodded halfway through his statement. "I do have a request, though."

"Oh?"

She sensed his wariness even if he left it out of his voice. "I have ... personal matters I need to attend to tomorrow morning. Could you please ask my father that you and he go on this trip tomorrow by yourselves?"

His smile widened. "Is that all you ask of me? Of course, I will be glad to. In fact, this would be better for the both of us, as there will be no chance of, shall we say, awkward moments? Though I will make it clear I thoroughly enjoyed your company the night before, which will be the absolute truth."

Cassie let out a small sigh of relief and offered a genuine smile. "Thank you, Marco."

Marco kissed her gently on the cheek and lifted herself from her. "And now I fear you must head back to your room. The sooner you do, the less chance of an unfortunately discovery."

Cassie nodded and climbed out of bed. He slipped on his robe and followed her into the lounge. "It is a pity I will likely never see you again once I have concluded this deal with your father."

Cassie gathered her robe and turned towards him, her eyes widening. "Oh, goodness, I didn't influence your--"

Marco raised a hand and shook his head. "No need to worry, my dear. I had already decided to conclude this deal with Mr. Kendall. But, ah, please do not tell him. Nothing says I cannot still negotiate for the best price."

Cassie nodded and smiled again as she put on her robe. "Thank you. Good night."

"Good night, dear Cassie."

Cassie slipped back out into the hall and closed the door behind her. She let out a slow sigh as she let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Had she actually done it? It almost seemed like a dream now.

She returned to her bedroom and paused, extending her senses as far as she could. The spirit was no longer present. Perhaps he had never been there, and it had been only her imagination.

Cassie changed into her normal night gown and panties and slipped into bed. She fell into a calm and uneventful sleep.

Diane rose from the depths of an unsettled slumber, uttering a soft moan as she stirred under the covers. Her eyes fluttered open, dark with repressed desire as the last vestiges of an intensely erotic dream clung to her psyche as if intending to follow her into the real world.

Diane slid her hand under her panties. Her breath emerged as a short, husky sigh as her fingers sank into wet folds. She tilted her head back and panted as she swirled her fingertips over her clit. She pawed one breast as Jason had done in her dream, and she spread her legs wider as if accepting his cock.

The night before, Diane had been unable to sleep until she had given up control of her body to her enslaved self. Then she had fallen asleep almost at once, as if eager for the nocturnal visitations she knew would come. Not a single dream from which she awoke -- often in the same wet and wanting state -- was about anything other than sex with Jason.

The bed squeaked as Diane rocked her hips in time to her finger thrusts, wishing for all the world that it was Jason's cock instead. Her protected self had awoken along with the rest of her, but found it easier to let this play out and, hopefully, satiate her for now.

Diane panted hard as her pleasure rose, and her protected self was forced to revel in it as well. All rational thought came to a standstill as her back arched, fingers whipping back and forth in a desperate drive towards climax. Her pussy strained for an unnaturally long time.

She understood why a moment later when an urge suddenly rose deep inside the enslaved self. Words formed and tumbled from her mouth before she could discern them. "I'm a good girl," Diane moaned. "Good little girl ... good little slave ... slave to Jason's cock ... uhhng!"

Diane's hips bucked as she throbbed, and obedient bliss saturated her isolated self's mindscape. Jason had made her reinforce her own enslavement. It made a certain practical sense, she supposed. If he could not be here all the time, he had to maintain his control over her somehow.

She waited until her orgasm had played out, and her enslaved self floated in gentle waves of sexual euphoria. Diane suddenly shuddered and sat up. The look of bliss vanished, and her face dropped into her hands.

Diane waited, but no tears came. She was over that at least. Perhaps she could function now without having an emotional breakdown every few minutes. The fact that she had awoken with her protected self still intact had given her a small measure of hope.

Nevertheless, she could not divorce herself completely from Jason's influence. By the time she had emerged from the bathroom, naked and fresh from her shower, her pussy had returned to a low flame of desire, her folds just damp enough to glisten faintly. She shuddered as she pulled on a pair of panties, the fabric against her mound like a gentle teasing touch against her clit. By the time she had finished dressing, it had escalated to low level pleasure, neither rising nor falling.

She paused. Again, no sobs, no tears. She was handling it.

She handled it all through breakfast, despite furtive looks of concern from her mother. Diane knew her mother could often read her like a book, yet she tensed anyway when Janet said as Diane got up to leave, "Diane, wait, please. I'd like to talk to you."

Diane's shoulders slumped, and she wanted to kick herself when she realized her mother had likely seen the gesture. She watched her father retreat to the basement to catch up on some chores before she turned to face her mother.

"Diane ... I need to know something and ... I need you to be truthful with me."

Diane tried not to tense further, but betrayed herself when she grasped the back of a dining room chair and squeezed it hard enough for it to creak. "Um, sure, mother. What is it?"

"What happened here yesterday afternoon while I was gone?"

"Nothing happened, mother," Diane said in a flat voice.

"'Nothing' ever happens. There is always something happening." Janet folded her arms, the unmistakable sign she did not want to hear another unacceptable answer. "So what was going on here while I was gone?"

Diane took a breath and let it go very slowly, so it would not be interpreted as a sigh. "It was just what I ... what Jason told you yesterday. I was worried when you weren't home, and I called Jason just to have someone to talk to. He offered to come over."

"From all the way across town," Janet said tonelessly.

Stand up to her, stick to your story, she chided herself. For once, don't be the wimp. "I guess I wasn't really thinking about that at the time, I just knew I was worried. I guess I wanted the company enough that it didn't matter to me how far away he was."

"You guess."

Diane shifted her hips, which only served to remind her of the low heat in her sex. "I-I'm sorry, mother, I gu ... I was just worried about you. You haven't told me yet why you were gone."

"Please, Diane, don't change the subject," Janet said. "After Jason came over, what happened then?"

"Nothing!" Diane cried, then could not help but let a sigh escape her lips when her mother gave her a cross look. "Mother, given my, well, orientation, there's not a lot that can go on between us, you know?"

Diane gripped the back of the chair to stop from trembling, both from the effort to maintain the lie and against the renewed tide of emotional pain gathering behind the dam.

"That not what I meant," her mother said. "Well ... that was not entirely what I had meant. While you have made it clear you don't care for boys in that manner, that does not mean that boys will stop wanting you in that manner."

"Mother, he did not rape me if that's what you're worried about," Diane said in an irritated voice, and her eyes widened when she saw her mother's visible sigh of relief. "Wait, did you ... did you really think he had--"

"I wasn't sure what to think!" Janet declared louder than Diane had expected. "You were acting odd last night, Diane, and this morning it's obvious something is upsetting you."

Mind control is not rape, Diane repeated in her head. In the best of times she was unsure of the distinction; it was not a topic she wanted to bring up with the other Harbingers, given their own activities, but she had to believe it now.

"Jason did not rape me," Diane said in a firm voice. "No one has."

"And nothing else happened?"

"No," Diane said in a less confident voice. "I mean, what could have happened? He wasn't here that long."

Janet slowly nodded. "And I suppose you won't tell me what's been upsetting you this morning?"

Diane did not try to lie about her emotional state, for her mother would have seen through it right away and cast doubt on everything else she had said. "I'm just worried about Heather a little, that's all."

"Has something happened to her?" Janet said in a voice of rising alarm.

"Not really much more than what has been going on. Where I get to be with her again after this weekend ... I guess I always get a little nervous over that."

Janet paused, scrutinizing her daughter. Diane remained as still as she could manage, though the slow burn in her pussy made her hips twitch. "You wanted to know what happened yesterday," Janet said in a flat voice. "I received a call from the police saying you were in some sort of trouble."

Diane's eyes widened. "What?!"

"I'm glad to hear that you have no idea about that."

"Of course I don't! I've never been--!"

Janet held up a hand. "I know, dear," she said in a softer voice. "They kept me there for a half hour before claiming it was some sort of mix-up and sent me home."

From the tone of her mother's voice, Diane guessed that her mother was not happy with that explanation. "I have no idea why they would have done that."

"I know you don't. It just ... I'm a mother, Diane, and when things happen like that which seemed purposely designed to leave my daughter alone in the house, I get suspicious."

Diane's mind raced. What sort of connections did Jason have? Did he really know someone in the police department? Had he enslaved someone in the police?

"Are you intending to go out today?" Janet asked.

"Yes, mother, but I'm not going to be alone. In fact, Richie is coming over here. We'll be together the whole time."

Janet nodded, more enthusiastically this time. Diane thought it ironic that her mother was about the only parent who actually trusted Richie Gardner. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm not used to you being out so often. Ever since you decided to get back on your bike--"

Diane managed a faint smile. "I thought you wanted me to get more exercise anyway."

Janet returned the smile and gave her daughter a quick hug. "I'm sorry I got upset, I wasn't really upset with you."

"I know," Diane said in a low voice.

Janet looked at her daughter, and Diane wondered what was going through her mother's mind. How much was she piecing together? How much closer to the truth was she?

Just let me get this done, Diane pleaded. Let me try to rescue Heather. If I can have her back, I don't care if my mother learns about everything.

"Can I ask a favor of you?" Janet asked. "My purse is upstairs on the dresser. In one of the side pockets is some quarters. Before you go, please take some and give me a call somewhere around noon? Just so I know you're safe?"

Diane relaxed, or at least as far as she could with her pussy tingling and wet. "Of course, mother, I can do that."

"Maybe I should just give in to the trend and get you a cell phone," Janet said in a single breathy exhalation that was as close to a sigh as she would allow herself. "Anyway, thank you for understanding, Diane. I hope you have fun today, wherever you're going,"

Diane sensed what her mother was doing. She was trying to ask where Diane was going without actually asking. The truth was, beyond Debby's house, Diane had no idea.

"Thanks, mother," she said in a soft voice before turning away, hoping she had not frustrated her mother too much.

Ned felt weird entering the school parking lot on a weekend, even stranger seeing it empty. Without the usual parade of school buses, cars, and throngs of students, the lot seemed enormous, making him feel as if he had stepped into another universe where he was its sole denizen. He was grateful to see Seeger standing at the top of the steps.

Ned walked towards the entrance. "Hola, Senor Seeger," Ned drawled as he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Good morning, Mr. Lussander," said Seeger in a tired voice.

Ned hurried up the stairs as Seeger unlocked the doors. Ned tried not to smirk as he passed; despite the weekend and no one else to see them, Seeger wore a suit and tie as he did during the week.

Seeger glanced at the sun which still hung low over the treetops and rubbed one eye. He closed the door and turned to Ned. "I had not expected you to be this early a riser, Mr. Lussander."

"Gotta have time ta work with this," Ned said as he extracted a manila folder from under his jacket.

Seeger narrowed his eyes. "And just what is that?"

Ned held up the folder. So thick with pages was it that the spine did not have quite enough folds to accommodate it, and some pages peeked out from under each cover. Many of the edges had already become dog-eared and wrinkled. "Jason's notes on his ... ah, partic'lar skill."

Seeger's eyes widened. "Good heavens."

"White hat, Mr. S., whitest of all of 'em."

Seeger sighed. "I will take your word for it. This way."

Ned trotted along behind Seeger's crisp footfalls which echoed in the empty corridors. Seeger paused to unlock the computer lab and waved him inside.

"Thank ya kindly, Mr. S.," Ned said as he plopped himself in front of a PC and dropped the folder next to him.

"Just where will you start in this endeavor of dubious legality, Mr. Lussander?" Seeger asked in a flat voice. "Or should I even ask?"

"Ta be honest, I ain't got a clue. I figger I gotta first find Ms. B's internet moniker. I tried ta read through some of this stuff last night but it just leaked outta my ears. I figgered it would be easier ta understand once I was actually in front of a computer."

"So you could be at this all day is what you are telling me," Seeger said.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Seeger let out a slow sigh through his nose before turning away. "Please come find me if you need anything, or when you are ready for lunch. I will arrange for something to be brought in."

Ned grinned. "Hey, thanks, Mr. S., 'preciate it."

Seeger headed out without another word.

Ned turned to the computer and took a deep breath. "Okay, Nose, here's hopin' some of Jason's Hacker-Fu rubbed off on ya ..."

For the first time, Henry was happier seeing his son head off to the Inn than having him home. From what little contact he had allowed between Jason and Audrey earlier that morning, it was clear Jason was no longer going to ward off his mother's advances.

Henry banged his tools louder than necessary as he worked in the basement, not so much to vent his frustrations as to reaffirm the nature of reality. So much had happened which made him doubt his own convictions that he needed something more down to earth to comfort him.

Henry sighed. In little more than three months, the new hospital wing would be open, and the Haven Project would be fully operational. All through the past summer and fall he had looked forward to it as a bold experiment which would, in one stroke, remove the danger poised by the Haven Entity and harness its power to eliminate the need to fight wars with guns, tanks, planes, and missiles.

Everything Ted had said was theoretically possible, even rendering nuclear war obsolete. Nuclear-armed missiles could not be fired if those who held the launch keys could be made to refuse to turn them. They could set their sights simpler than that. No more planes into skyscrapers for you, Mr. Terrorist, when you suddenly find you really don't want to kill all those innocent people despite your cause.

The experiment had sound scientific theory behind it. The fact they were dealing with the supernatural was irrelevant; as long as it adhered to a set of laws, it could be analyzed once those laws were understood. It had taken several decades, but they had discovered those laws.

The Project had virtually unlimited funding. It had started one sunny day several administrations ago when the President decided he wanted to find new ways to neutralize enemy ICBMs and move beyond MAD. And he wanted people to "think outside the box."

The Haven Project was so "outside the box" that the light from said box had yet to reach it.

Now Henry wondered if they had missed the human factor. He thought he had understood it the day he had volunteered to be the first to be infused with energy siphoned off from the Entity. He had tried to envision himself a pioneer and not a test subject.

He had understood the risks. His brain could have been fried and turned him into a mental vegetable, and his family told he died in a mundane accident and never know he was trying to be a hero for his country.

He thought he had understood the human factor first hand. It took his wife and an Inn to prove him wrong.

He was jolted out of his reverie by the doorbell. He ignored it and tried to remember where he was in his home repair project when the doorbell rang again. "Audrey, will you get that?!" Henry shouted, but he heard no response.

Henry grumbled as he dashed up the stairs. He saw that the sewing room door was closed and knew Audrey was indisposed using the dildo of which she thought Henry had no knowledge.

He sprinted for the door and yanked it open without bothering to look through the peephole. "Yes, what do you ..." He trailed off as he looked down.

"Mr. Conner?" said Cassie.

Henry narrowed his eyes. He glanced past her towards the limo idling at the curb. "Jason is not home," he said in a neutral voice.

"I'm ... I'm here to see you, Mr. Conner," said Cassie in a slightly breathy voice. "Can you step outside for a moment, please?"

"That depends. Is this concerning what we talked about on the phone?"

"Yes, very much so."

Henry glanced behind him, then nodded once and stepped past the threshold. He closed the door and glanced again at the limo.

"I apologize, but I can't send him away," Cassie said. "He can't hear us from here with the window up."

Henry could have told her of a dozen ways her driver could be listening, everything from a bug planted on her to a mike affixed to the window picking up the faint vibrations on the glass. "I'll take your word for it," he said. "Why didn't you just call me on the phone? I could have found someplace more discreet."

"I have my reasons, Mr. Conner, which would be too much to go into right now."

Henry could guess. Ted regularly passed him reports about Jason and his friends. He was aware of the Project's suspicions of Cassie's psychic powers. "Very well," Henry said as he folded his arms. "Have you come to give me what I want?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask you this again," said Cassie in a pained (and still oddly breathless) voice. "Why do you want to do this?"

"It's still as simple as before," said Henry. "I want my wife back. I never intended for her to become involved, and I have the means to free her from this outside influence. I have to minimize the risk, not just because of her, but for other reasons I cannot disclose. I need to do this when the Entity is distracted by whatever it is you and your friends are going to do."

Cassie stared at him as if she could see into his soul; or she was a walking lie detector; or she could read his mind. It could be anything, from what Henry knew about the Kendalls and the odd circumstances in which they came to settle near Haven.

"You love your wife very much, don't you?" Cassie said in a solemn voice.

Henry had not expected the question, and when in that unguarded moment memories of the Audrey he used to know and love surged into his mind and clenched his heart, Cassie's eyes suddenly widened, and she let out a shaky sigh.

"You're an empath," Henry said, his voice cracking with the weight of the emotions he had yet to rein.

Cassie's cheeks flushed red-pink. Henry thought that to be adorable for some reason.

"Monday afternoon, Mr. Conner," Cassie said in a quavering voice. "Likely very soon after school. I ... I can give you a call when I'm about to ... to rescue Jason."

Henry's mouth dropped open. "You're going to ..." He trailed off and rubbed his face as thoughts turned cartwheels in his head. Was she doing this alone or was Robert Kendall involved? Or was he still in the dark as to exactly how involved his daughter was in matters of Haven?

He let out a ragged sigh and dropped his hand to his side when he realized it did not matter. Only getting Audrey and his son back mattered. If he could do that and preserve the Project, so be it. If not, then to hell with them.

"Please don't ask me for details, Mr. Conner, not because I don't want to disclose them, but--"

Henry held up a hand. "Monday afternoon, after school, you'll call me. Got it."

Cassie let out a sigh of relief. "I have to get going. Thank you for being patient with me."

She turned and fled for the limo.

Henry watched her go. If Ted had ever learned of this meeting -- or that he had consulted with her at all -- he would go ballistic. He would be sure the Kendalls had compromised the Project.

To hell with the Project? No, never. He still believed the Project was vital to American interests despite its flaws. He simply wanted his wife and child to have nothing to do with it.

Richie's cock ached and his balls felt drained by the time he headed to the garage and mounted his bike. He had fucked Cathy as many times as he got hard, which was more than he ever remembered doing in one go. Even after holding himself back for the best orgasm possible, he was still ready to go again in what seemed superhuman time.

He now had another reason to curse the Darkness; he could be enjoying his sexual prowess if it did not come with all the dangerous baggage attached.

Richie had thought he had been playing with fire; every time he came was another chance for the Darkness to assail him. Not once did it even say so much as a word to him. Oh, it was there, all right, hovering just out of reach of his malice. He got the sense it was waiting, but not of its own desire.

"Yeah, I know what you're waiting for, you fucker," Richie muttered under his breath as he rolled his bike down the driveway.

Richie had no illusions about his intelligence, but in no way was he stupid. Perhaps he took longer to come to conclusions who people like Jason could see as easily as he saw the hand in front of his face, but he always got there.

The Darkness was waiting for Monday. It knew he was going to go back to fucking his mother, and it was going to use her to take him. He snorted and smirked. What a surprise he would have for it! He could hardly wait. So what if he fucked his own Mom again? It would be the last time thanks to the whiz-bang potion.

He stopped at the end of the driveway. He looked back at the house, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone. He stared at it for a few moments before flipping it open. His father's number was in the recent outgoing calls list. His heart thundering but soaring, he thumbed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

He got the voice mail. He uttered a small curse and waited for the tone.

"Hey, um, Dad? It's, uh, me again. Just ... " He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Just wanted to tell you I got things under control. I'm all set to kick that fucker out of Mom and out of our life. It can't touch me. I ... uh ... I-I sorta have to do something you won't like to get it done, but ... but that's the breaks, you know? I hope you won't think I'm a ..."

His voice faltered and his throat threatened to close up at the next words which had appeared in his head. He could not force them to his mouth no matter how hard he tried. The words sounded hollow to him. He had no business claiming it. He had to prove it.

"Anyway ... uh ... bye," Richie said, punching the end call button and nearly knocking the phone from his grip.

He snapped it closed and dropped it into his pocket. He took a moment to collect himself, at least enough to get his hands to stop trembling.

He never felt like he had so much riding on one task. The time he used the baseball to shatter the box containing the captured spirits of Heather, Diane, Susan, and Anne seemed like peanuts compared to this. Back then, he had felt like he just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Now, he had to plan for it, he had to pull it off just right.

Back then, he just had to make the out. Simple throw and tag-up. Now, he had to figure out how to get the out with bases loaded in the top of the ninth, and the other team's best batter coming up to the plate.

Richie reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around the baseball, touching it for the first time in a week. He shuddered and closed his eyes. He heard his father faintly, behind the corruption of the line, ranting at him. Don't fail. Don't chicken out. Don't find some excuse to back out.

And most of all, don't fuck it up.

"I'll do it, Dad," Richie said in a quavering but firm voice as he mounted his bike. "I won't fuck this up. I'll make you proud of me again."

He kicked off as if starting a motorcycle, and pedaled until his calves and knees ached. He no longer had to ride to beat the devil. He was the devil, and he intended to level hell itself against the Darkness.

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