Chapter 40

"Right here!" Heather cried as she stopped her bike near a huge cottonwood tree. "We're almost to the corner, so it has to be one of these buildings."

Richie coasted to a stop between her and the storefronts. He frowned as he glanced between them. "Don't look like no business offices to me."

They had stopped at a point roughly between two stores, a convenience store on the left and a liquor store on the right. "The business likely folded awhile ago," Heather said. "My mother never ran a business as far back as I can remember. That shouldn't matter, should it? The place doesn't have to look the way it did back then, right?"

Richie shrugged. "How the fuck should I know? Most of the time it just happens." He looked towards the buildings. "So which one is it?"

"Whichever has the number 10204."

They dismounted and leaned their bikes against the tree. They strolled towards the convenience store far enough to see its number: 10202. "It must be the other one. Shit, I was hoping it wouldn't be the liquor store."

"Why?"

Heather rolled her eyes. "Because we're not even close to twenty-one, you dumbass."

Richie frowned. "Then we'll just fake it. Not like we're gonna buy anything." He glanced at the building and stopped. "And it's not this one either," he said, pointing.

"What? But it has to ... oh, fuck!" Heather cried as she saw the number: 10206.

"Maybe it's across he street," Richie said.

"It's an even numbered address, it has to be on this side! What the hell? I'm positive I copied the address right."

Richie frowned. "Why the fuck would they skip a number?"

Heather ran a hand through her hair. "Shit, it can't be that," she murmured.

"What?"

"Remember what Victor could do? He could make it so you didn't see things that were right in front of your face. Maybe that's what's going on."

"We ran that asshole outta town over a month ago," Richie declared. "It can't be him."

"But I don't know what else it could be, unless..." She trailed off as her gaze fell on the cottonwood. "Wait, I just remembered something! Stay here."

Heather ran across the street and looked towards the other side. She remembered the tree in the photo; the entrance had stood just to the right of the tree. The gap between the two stores was just to the left.

"I've got it!" Heather cried as she ran back to Richie. "They tore the place down. I remember the picture, it was like the only building on an empty lot. They must've torn down the building and not reused the number." She pointed at the left end of the liquor store. "If your power only cares about the actual location and not what's here now, then you should pick up something right there."

"Yeah, fine, but how do we get in?"

Heather glanced at the door, where a sign proclaimed in bold letters "No one under 21 allowed unless accompanied by an adult." She turned to Richie and handed him the pendant. "I'll think of something when we get inside. Oh, and before I forget." She took hold of Richie's hand. "Don't let go. I want to see this for myself."

Heather took a deep breath and led them inside. She paused just inside the door and glanced around the store. She looked towards the far left corner, where the shelves were filled with multiple varieties of gin. In the next section, a middle-aged woman contemplated the tequila. Between them and the gin stood several racks of wine. An older gentleman with his back towards them stood contemplating a bottle of merlot.

Heather tugged Richie's hand and started towards the narrow corridor between the end of the wine racks and the front of the store.

"Uh, excuse me? The missy with the red hair?"

Heather froze and turned around. "Um, yes?"

Behind the counter, a bearded man gave them a stern look. "Some ID, please?" the man said, his voice already dubious that Heather could produce one.

Heather swallowed and glanced towards the woman near the tequila. "We're with her. Just came in to tell her something and we'll be gone."

The bearded man narrowed his eyes but said nothing as she trotted around the aisle of wine. The man with the merlot started to turn his jowled face towards her, but Heather's eyes slid off him before she could recognize the face.

"So what the hell do we do now?" Richie whispered.

Heather towed him past the last aisle of wine. "We pretend to talk to the woman and then try to find a spot where your power--"

Reality shifted.

"--can do its ... oh ... my ... God..."

Where a wall of gin had been a moment ago now stood a potted plant, sitting in the corner of a sunlight-drenched, cozy office. The afternoon sun filtered through the open slats of blinds and fell behind the office's single occupant, who sat behind a small, cluttered desk.

Heather let out a small gasp as her eyes fell upon the woman.

"Holy fuck, Heather, I'd swear that was you sitting there!" Richie cried.

The flaming redhead seated at the desk looked exactly as Heather pictured herself were she old enough to enter the liquor store without subterfuge. When the woman leaned back in her chair, sunlight glinted off the gold of her pendant.

Heather's eyes trailed down to the nameplate at the edge of the desk: Penelope Donovan.

"It's my mother," Heather said in a shaky voice. "She must've dyed her hair when she was younger to make it redder and--"

"I can only tell you how things stand now with the investigation," said Penny into the phone in her hand.

Heather's eyes widened. "Richie, what's the date?!"

Richie frowned. "Date? How the hell should I know? This isn't a fucking time machine."

"--that more evidence may come to light later, but--" continued Penny.

"Then find something the room that will tell you!" Heather hissed through clenched teeth. "I need to listen to this."

Richie grumbled a curse under his breath and stomped off. Heather stared at her younger mother, hardly daring to believe this was the same person. She let out a pained sigh as she remembered what it was like to look at her mother and not see a terrible black miasma around her.

"--is not necessarily the final word," Penny said. "I would advise against publishing anything until I've collected more data."

Heather tried to focus. She was parsing only every other word at best. She was too fascinated by how young and dynamic her mother looked. Even though the tone of her voice was serious, everything about her screamed ambition and excitement.

"In fact, I'm really reluctant to make any sort of statement at all. I would rather--"

"Penny, wait!"

Heather gasped and stumbled back a step as she beheld the woman who stood in the doorway near the far corner of the room as Richie returned to her side. "I found a desk calendar," he said. "It's somewhere in November, 1985."

Heather barely heard him, as she was still staring at the woman in the doorway. Despite her much younger age, she still had the same characteristic cleavage, wide hips, and full thighs. Her hair was drawn into a ponytail, and thick black-framed glasses were perched on her nose.

"Just a second," Penny said into the phone before pressing it to her breast. She swiveled the chair around. "What is it, Jo?"

"Shit, that's your Aunt Jo?" Richie said with a smirk. "She looks like a freaking nerd."

"Shh!" Heather hissed.

Jo barreled into the room, pushing her glasses up her nose, a manila folder clutched to her bosom. "Penny, I finally wrote up the last observations I did near the abandoned church."

"The church?" Heather whispered as Jo handed Penny the folder. "The same one Victor... ?"

Penny put the phone to her ear long enough to say, "Can I put you on hold for a moment? Thanks." She tapped a button on the phone and hung up the receiver. She opened the folder and scrutinized the pages inside.

"What the hell, your Aunt Jo was in this business with your Mom?" Richie said.

"I ... I don't know," Heather said in a helpless voice. "I mean ... it looks like it, yes, but Aunt Jo never mentioned that to me when she--"

"Jo, are you sure about this?" Penny said. "Nothing at all?"

Jo smirked and placed a hand on the back of Penny's chair, her other on her tilted hips. The all-too familiar gesture made Heather grind her teeth. "Unless you count food wrappers and beer cans."

Penny blinked and looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"Exactly what I said," Jo said with a smirk. "This whole mess has been just teenage Halloween shenanigans."

"But what about what happened to that missing girl? The terrible fire that--"

"It has to be an unrelated incident. Or if it is related, it was a case of too little sense and too much booze."

Penny leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I don't know whether to feel relieved or worried."

"What's to worry about?" Jo said.

"I still feel something is going on in Haven, but every time I try to grasp it, it slips away from me at the last moment."

"Then you need to better weed out the wheat from the chaff." Jo leaned over and tapped the report with her finger. "This is chaff."

Penny drew forward, reading the report again.

"What's going on here?" Richie asked.

"I saw an article online," Heather explained. "They're talking about what happened to Stephanie Fowler. I read that my mother's business said there was no basis to any reports of paranormal activity. I never dreamed your vision would lead me right to--"

"All right," Penny said. She grabbed the receiver and punched the button. "Very sorry about that, thank you for holding. I just got some new information. According to what we know, it appears this was a case of heightened teenage pranking."

"She's telling them..." Heather tailed off and gasped. "Based on what Jo told her!"

Penny smiled faintly. "Yes, it is a bit of a disappointment in some ways, but I can only report the facts. We try to be as unbiased as possible ... no, we have no evidence of that, either. The tragic case of Stephanie Fowler appears to be a separate incident."

Heather felt sick. At that moment in time, somewhere in Haven the real Stephanie was alive and well and beginning her twenty year mental incarceration, and all because her mother's group had failed to find the link.

"Yes, I will let you know if anything changes ... Publish?" She looked up at Jo.

Jo nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, this is case closed."

"Yes, you can go ahead and publish that statement," Penny said in a reluctant voice. "You're quite welcome. Bye." She hung up and sighed. "Why do I feel like we're missing something, Jo?"

"What's to miss? You know I am always very thorough when I do these investigations."

"Yes, I know, I don't doubt that. It's your eye for detail that made me ask you to join this venture despite your skepticism."

Jo smiled. "Or because of it. I try to balance your idealism with my realism."

Richie wrinkled his nose. "Something stinks here," he muttered. "And I don't mean Jo's cheap perfume, either."

"In any case, I think you should move on," Jo continued. "You've been obsessing over this for too long. We've got a backlog of cases going back to June."

Penny hesitated, then nodded. "I guess you're right." She closed the folder and handed it back to Jo. "File this for me if you would, please? And let's start on that backlog."

Jo took the folder, smiled, and headed out of the room. Penny leaned back in her chair, pensive, as if her mind were still on the very thing Jo had dismissed.

Heather blinked when she suddenly found herself staring at a shelf of Gordon's gin.

A hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "Okay, this has gone far enough."

Heather turned and saw the bearded man glowering at them. Richie wrenched himself from the man's grip. "Hands off, asshole," Richie muttered.

The bearded man raised a finger. "Watch it, punk. Don't get yourself into more trouble than you already are."

"Richie, please!" Heather said. She turned to the bearded man. "We weren't trying to cause any trouble. We'll just leave right now."

The man blocked her way. "I'd like no more than to keep you two here until I can get a cop, but I can't. But you can be sure I'll be reporting your description to them soon as I can get to that phone."

Heather glanced at Richie when it looked like he was about to say something, but he instead stared at something behind the bearded man.

"C-come on, they're not going to arrest us," Heather said in a quavering voice. She saw someone step up behind the bearded man, cradling a bottle of merlot in one arm.

"No, they'll likely let your parents handle it," said the bearded man.

"Look, we didn't do anything! We just--"

"Sam, I will vouch for them," said a deep voice.

Heather looked past him and her eyes widened. "You know these kids, Seymour?" said Sam.

"Yes," rumbled Seeger as he glanced between Richie and Heather. "They're students at my school." His eyes narrowed on Richie. "And you would best wipe that smile from your face, Mr. Gardner."

"I don't want to make trouble for them, Seymour, but--"

"Then allow me. Their behavior reflects badly on the school. I will handle this."

Heather's heart raced. Seeger was supposed to be on their side. She could not tell if this were a ruse or not. The last thing she needed was her mother finding out what she was doing.

Sam sighed. "All right. Here, let's ring that up for you."

"Thank you." Seeger turned to Heather and Richie. "You two. Outside. Wait for me there."

"Yes, sir," Heather said in a meek voice as she grabbed Richie's hand.

"This is fucking bogus," Richie muttered as Heather dragged him through the store.

"Richie, shut up," Heather hissed.

Richie did so for only as long as it took to emerge from the store. Richie yanked his hand from her grip. "This is fucking not fair. No way old Saggy Seeger is gonna punish us for something that didn't happen inside the goddamn school."

"Will you just think for a minute?!" Heather cried. "Seeger had to do that, otherwise the guy wouldn't've been satisfied, and he'd sic the fucking cops on us."

"Fine, let him try! Maybe my mother is in with the Dark bitch, but she knows the system, and she knows a couple of lawyers that would--"

"Sometimes, Mr. Gardner, I suspect your boasts are bigger than reality," said Seeger as he emerged, cradling the brown-paper wrapped wine bottle on his arm.

"Never knew you for a drinkin' man, Mr. Seeger," Richie said with a smirk.

"With all that I have to deal with at the school, it is little wonder I do not drink more than I do," Seeger said in a tired voice. "Now, I will ask you one question only and will decide what to do on the basis of your answer. I am expecting you to be honest, as there is no way I will be able to prove or disprove your answer. Did your presence in the store have anything to do with the Harbingers?"

"Yes," Heather and Richie answered at once. Heather added, "And it had nothing at all to do with buying alcohol. I don't even have any money for it."

Richie snorted when Seeger glanced at him. "Don't look at me. I don't have enough money for a soda let alone a beer."

Seeger let out a slow sigh. "I am inclined to believe you. I find it a very odd coincidence that I would happen to be here to cover for you. I do not like coincidences."

"We're sorry we caused you any trouble, Mr. Seeger," said Heather. "Um ... do you need to actually punish us for this?"

"No," Seeger said. "But if you do need to enter an establishment such as this again, please arrange it with me first so I can accompany you. Now, I need to get home to prepare for a dinner party. I will see you in school tomorrow." He started to turn and paused. "And hopefully not in any sort of disciplinary capacity."

Heather watched him go. When he was out of earshot, Richie said, "So what the hell was all that we just saw?"

"I'm not sure," said Heather. "I guess I had hoped this would answer a lot of questions, but it only created about a dozen more."

"If you ask me, that bitch Jo was feeding your mother a line."

"But that's just it, I don't know!" Heather cried. "Shit. I wish we had something of Aunt Jo's. Then maybe we could head over to the abandoned church and see what she really did over there."

"What the fuck? You want to go to that place again? No freaking way."

"Victor is not there anymore, Richie. But it doesn't matter, it probably wouldn't tell us anything unless my mother had been there at some point." Heather shook her head. "I don't know what to do. All I got out of this was that my mother really did run a paranormal investigations business."

Richie looked down at the pendant still in his hand. "Well, anyway, here's the thing back."

Heather reached for it, then pulled her hand back. "No, keep it."

Richie stared. "Huh?"

"You have to keep going with this for me."

"What?! How the fuck do I do that? I don't know jack shit about this."

"I can't do it because I'm going to be Mistress' obedient wet pussy slave," Heather said.

Richie's eyes widened. "What the--?"

"S-see, it's already starting." Heather said in a shaky voice. "Only the adrenaline rush was sustaining me. You don't have to do this alone. Talk to Diane, she'll be willing to help if she thinks it will help me somehow. Please, Richie, I'm begging you--"

"All right, all right!" Richie cried, pocketing the pendant. "Shit, you gonna be all right? Ned wanted me to tell you there's gonna be a Harbinger meeting at Mrs. Radson's at three."

Heather ran a hand through her hair. "I-I don't know. If I could get more energy, I could hold it off longer."

"What, you mean like sexual energy?"

"Or line energy like Diane did earlier this morning, but I don't think I'll have time to arrange anything with her." Heather shivered. She tried to imagine herself with her lover, but instead saw her Mistress instead. Her pussy grew warm in anticipation of tasting her Mistress' sex once more. "God ... if this keeps up, I'll be a wet mess for the rest of the day," she said in a husky voice.

"Shit, is that why you were so hot to fuck me the other day?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"Wish you had freakin' said something." He mounted his bike. "Come on."

Heather fought to throw off the lusty haze settling over her mind. "Huh?"

"Get on your freakin' bike and follow me so we can go fuck."

Heather let out a husky sigh. Where every thought of sex led back to Mistress, she wondered if she were too far gone, that the energy would be usurped and used against her. Yet if a meeting had been called, it might mean Ned had found something. It was worth a try for just that. "Where are we going?" she asked as she mounted her bike.

"You said you were willing to do something kinky," Richie said with a smirk. "So we're gonna do it someplace kinky."

Henry fiddled with the icicle lights for perhaps the tenth time looking for a problem which did not exist when he finally heard the metallic chatter of a bicycle being walked up the driveway. He looked down as Jason was about to walk into the open garage. "Don't go into the house just yet."

Jason looked up and stopped. "Having a problem with the lights?"

"Just put your bike in the garage and come back out."

"Why?"

"Because your father told you to."

Jason sighed and disappeared into the garage as Henry descended the ladder. He saw Jason lean it against the wall beside Audrey's car and emerge as he stepped onto the concrete. "Did I do something wrong?" Jason asked.

Henry heard it in his son's voice. It had carried a faint hostile edge over the past few months, but now it had transcended into haughtiness. Henry draped an arm around his son's shoulder, steering him down the driveway. "I wanted to talk to you without your mother listening in. Frankly, I'm not sure I can say anything openly around her anymore."

"She hasn't been bothering me too much lately, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know she hasn't, and the only reason is because I've been around."

"Thanks," Jason said, though Henry heard little sincerity behind his gratitude. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You haven't said a word about the Inn in the past two days," said Henry.

"Maybe because I didn't have much to say about it."

Henry stopped at the end of the driveway and faced his son. "They haven't done anything else to you, then?"

"They're not actually doing anything to me, to be honest. I think a lot of what I'm experiencing is in my own head."

Henry looked askance at him. "The last time we talked, you were all doom and gloom that you were going to start mind-controlling people."

Jason hesitated before he answered in a careful tone, "It didn't quite turn out that way. It's not as bad as it had seemed at first."

Henry raised an eyebrow and wondered what his son had just not told him. "And they're not doing anything to you at all?"

"I guess they are guiding me, in a way. But it's sort of working against them. They're making me see all the ways that the use of mind control could be justified. It's really like any other tool. What matters is not the tool itself but how it's wielded. Do you see?"

Henry scratched his head and remembered a conversion with Ted Havers reminding him of some of the ultimate goals of the Haven Project: wars without bloodshed; perfect intelligence on threat forces; nuclear arms rendered obsolete; a tool to be wielded by the righteous for the betterment of all.

"And you're not at all concerned about this?" Henry asked.

"They haven't done the one thing I was really worried about, which was to turn me against my friends. They haven't given me some task to go arbitrarily enslave them."

"Arbitrarily?"

Jason remained silent for a long moment before he replied in a more subdued voice, "They gave me some things to think about."