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Message-ID: <53564asstr$1145135403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Shalon Wood <dstar@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} Prudence, TX Population 1276 36 (Mff ff Mm rom)
Lines: 218
Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2006 17:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Standard disclaimers apply; this story may or may not contain, in any
given part, graphic depictions of lesbianism, homosexuality, group sex,
bdsm, underage (teen) sex, magic, occultism, violence, and biting 
sarcasm.  If you're underage, or if for any other reason it's illegal 
for you to read this, or you're disturbed by the content, please don't 
read it.

Archived at http://prudence.pele.cx, and we've got a web-forum at
http://playground.pele.cx/forums as well, for discussion of both
Prudence and our other stories. Send an email to velvet@pele.cx and
I'll add you to the mailing list to be notified when Prudence
updates. 

Comments *greatly* appreciated.

Enjoy,

Velvet
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The old man had no ID, and so far no one had recognized him or reported him
missing. He was probably just a drifter, passing through. A long-haired old
bum, missing one eye, going nowhere and taking the wrong route to get
there. 

They'd found him in an old abandoned house at the edge of town. He was
covered in cuts and burns, and three of his fingers had been severed. Cause
of death was determined to be heart failure, but they sent the body to
Dallas for a full autopsy, and they were treating it as murder. Rumor had
it, though, that the sheriff said all the wounds looked self-inflicted, and
the body was found with numerous knives and a small pocket torch.

Kristen was horrified by the news, and Kayla, as she related the details
she'd managed to garner, looked grim. Mark was feeling rather paranoid
himself... that missing eye... He glanced towards the door. It was
lunchtime, and his classroom empty, the hallway deserted, but the door was
still open to allay any suspicion. "Kayla, can you come over and help me
add more protections to the house tonight?"

She shook her head. "Mark... I can come over, and I can find you a stronger
spell, but I can't help you do it."

"Why not?" he asked, puzzled.

"Remember I said you could build the skill but you had to _have_ the talent
first?" she asked. "I don't. Period. I can't do magic. Not at all."

He looked at her thoughtfully. He didn't buy it. She knew too much about
it, and she wasn't the type to waste her time learning something she could
never use. But it wasn't the time for questions, not yet, so he just said,
"I see. Well, we'd still like you to come over. Tell us what needs doing."

She smiled, relieved. "I will."

During his conference hour, he drove to the post office and sent the
package to Lenita. He sent them in a locked box, with a combination lock
and his cell-phone number, via next-day FedEx delivery, with the request
that she call during his conference period to get the combination.

As the day went on, the rumors got wilder, of course. It _was_ a high
school, after all. By the end of the day, the gory details would be enough
to give anyone nightmares.

Kayla rode home with them. As soon as they got home, Kristen headed
upstairs at as close to a run as the cast would allow. "I need a shower! I
couldn't take one after P.E., and even if I couldn't run, I still got all
sweaty in that hot gym, yuck! Be right back."

"Okay," Mark said, smiling after her and wondering if somehow she _knew_ he
wanted to talk to Kayla alone. She'd certainly given him the perfect
opportunity to do so. 

Kayla headed straight for the computer. "Okay, lemme get online a minute,
and I'll pull up the spell I have in mind for you."

"That's fine," he said, following her. "I'm curious, though -- why do you
think you don't have the talent? Is there a way to test for it?"

"Yeah, you try something and it works, basically," she said. "Or sometimes
you have Sight and it's obvious. I used to. I don't now. End of story."

He raised an eyebrow. "You used to and now you don't? What happened?"

She frowned, then shook her head. "I'd rather not talk about it, Mark," she
said quietly.

He reached out and took her hand. "You don't have to. But... I do love you.
It sounds like this is something that hurt you, and I'd like to share it,
even if I can't make it better."

She closed her eyes, her face tight with pain. "Mark... I lost my magic
when I let Karen Wilson die."

He stared, shocked, then stepped up and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh,
love..." He held her tightly and kissed her forehead. "How did you 'let'
her die?" he asked softly.

She shivered, leaning into him. "Don't sound so skeptical, Mark," she said.
"I could have stopped it. I dreamed it all. But I didn't tell her, and
because I didn't warn her, she and her husband are dead." Her voice was
tight, choked with old pain and guilt.

He kissed her forehead again, then pulled back enough to look down into her
eyes. "Did you _know_ it was a precognitive dream?"

She closed her eyes, not looking at him. "I thought it wasn't. I thought I
was just being paranoid. But... part of me _did_ think it was real, and
even if I didn't, I should have told her. But I knew she'd believe me if I
said it was going to happen, and then she'd _leave_ and I'd be all a-alone
again..." Her shoulders shook,	and tears seeped from the corners of her
closed eyes.

He pulled her close. "Oh gods, love... I'm so sorry. So sorry. Love, you
didn't _know_. Maybe you could have saved them, but maybe it wouldn't have
made a difference." He held her tightly, stroking her hair. "How long ago
was it?"

"Three and a half years," she whispered.

"So you were eleven yeara old?" He shook his head. "Love, you didn't know.
You couldn't have known that those dreams were true. Maybe you suspected,
but if you'd really believed... you'd have said something. You can't go
around blaming yourself for this for the rest of your life. It _wasn't your
fault_."

"It was! I could have stopped it, but I _did not_. The gods punished me by
taking my magic." She shuddered. "I haven't dreamed since."

"No," he said firmly. "It wasn't. You didn't kill them. The people who
started the fire did. And I can't believe the gods would punish you like
that, not as young as you were."

She shook her head stubbornly. "They gave me the warning to pass on. With
the power comes the duty. I failed."

He held her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Maybe you did, but you
were only _eleven_. I can't believe they'd punish you for not realizing
that it was a true dream, love. I don't think that's what happened."

She glared. "I _told_ you. Part of me _did_ realize it. But I w-was
selfish and..." She went from angry to vulnerable in an instant, her eyes
filling with pain. "And I didn't want my friend to go away, so I didn't
tell her. I told myself it was just a dream... and it wasn't, and they
burned them, and it hurt and hurt..." She shuddered, falling against him
with a moan.

He kissed her hair. "But only part of you knew," he said gently. "Not all
of you. And at eleven, you _can't_ be expected not to make mistakes. Hell,
you can _never_ be expected not to make mistakes." His brow furrowed as
something she'd said nagged at him. "You said that like you know what they
felt..."

She looked up at him, then nodded, face tight with pain. "I dreamed from
her viewpoint."

He stared down into her eyes for a long moment, searching, before kissing
her gently. "Love, I don't think the gods took your magic. I think it was
someone else."

She wiped at her eyes, angry again. "It doesn't matter. It's gone. I didn't
deserve to keep it."

He nodded as her words confirmed his suspicions. "I disagree, love. You
_do_ deserve to have it. You can't punish yourself for the rest of your
life for one mistake."

She yanked away from him abruptly, and he stared at her in surprise. She
glared back at him. "You don't know what they suffered," she snapped. "You
don't _know_ what I deserve."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what they suffered. You made a
mistake. _A_ mistake. A _mistake_. You didn't decide they should die, you
just didn't want to believe that what you dreamed could happen to your
friend. It was a mistake, and you can't punish yourself for that forever.
You _shouldn't_ punish yourself for that forever."

"I _accept_ my punishment," she said. "For however long it lasts."

"It will last until you forgive yourself, love," he said gently. "Until you
stop hating yourself for making a mistake."

"I do not want to talk about this," she said, with an irritable toss of her
head. "I don't hate myself, okay? Just don't worry about it."

He stepped close to her, looking down into her stormy grey eyes. "I think
you do, love. I don't think you've ever forgiven yourself for Karen's
death. I don't think it's the gods that blocked your magic, I think it's
_you_, to punish yourself." He bent, kissing away the tears on her cheeks.
"Forgive yourself, please?"

She put trembling hands on his chest. "Please, Mark... _please_ drop it."
Her voice shook as much as her hands. "If you really love me, you'll stop."


He looked down at her, his own eyes full of pain, and just pulled her back
to him, holding her tight, not saying anything. She pressed against him,
accepting the comfort, letting go enough to cry, quietly, just for a little
while, before pulling away, wiping at her eyes. "All right," she said.
"That's enough of that. I'll get the spell. You go check on Kristen."

He stared searchingly into her eyes, then bent and kissed her gently on the
lips. "I'll drop it for now. But... please, think about what I said?"

She sighed. "I will. But you're wrong."

He kissed her again, then headed for the stairs. As he reached them, he
stopped, turned, and asked, suddenly, "Have you _asked_ your gods?" Then he
turned back and climbed the stairs, not waiting for an answer.

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If you like this, you might want to take a look at Strange Love, an
e-zine of sf/fantasy/paranormal erotica. The first issue is on sale
now for $2 at:

http://strangelove.pele.cx

Take a look!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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