Chapter 15

Jason tried to doze as he sat in front of the monitor screen, its glowing face reflected in Jason's pallid one. His eyes fluttered back open, bleary and tired. He stretched, leaning back into the dark. The only other light in the room were the stark red numerals of his alarm clock, showing him that it was well past two in the morning.

He sighed and leaned forward again, rubbing at his eyes. He had had to wait until this late before he could go back on the internet. His mother had been so angry with him when he had returned home that she had revoked his internet privileges. She had not said for how long. Jason had to wait until both parents were safely in bed before sneaking downstairs and plugging the coax cable back into the modem.

He rubbed at his face and willed himself to remain alert a little longer so he could review what he had discovered.

It was not much. "The Loner" was one Matthew Johnson, a reclusive man that committed suicide in 1965 just as police were about to arrest him for murdering a young woman found dead a few days before. Other than this, all he found on the man was that he had owned a tavern since 1948, and that the tavern was at the site of what was now the Li'l Missy Inn, a hotel on the south side of town.

The only correlation he could find between this and Mara was the fact that Mara Lake had been last seen in the vicinity of the tavern in 1956 before she was reported missing. He tried to link the murdered woman to Mara, remembering Elizabeth's confused statements about people dying but not really dying, but the victim was indeed a totally different person.

That was all there was on The Loner.

Jason sighed and covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. When he dropped them, he was staring at the article on the screen about the 1965 murder. His eyes scanned down the article again in a perfunctory manner just as he was about to click over to another window. He stopped himself when he re-read the last sentence of the article:

As a final note, it was originally believed that the victim was the same person as a teenage girl that had been reported missing in 1955, but the police later denied this connection, and issued no further comment on the matter.

Jason frowned. 1955. Mara Lake disappeared in 1956. A connection?

He groaned. He was dead tired, and his head ached. He knew he should go to bed and continue this in the morning, but that would mean depending on his mother being merciful and letting him have the internet again.

He leaned forward and fixed his glazed eyes on the screen. After awhile, he did confirm that a girl was indeed reported missing in 1955, and in the same area of town as the old tavern.

He tried to remember everything Elizabeth had told him, but it wasn't making any more sense now than before. So what was she saying? That the Loner kidnapped Mara and some other girl? So what did he do with them? Did he kill the other girl? If so, why did the police lie about the connection?

(She wanted to get away from it at first)

(everything she was forced to do... too much for her... then she never wanted to get away)

Jason slowly sat up in his chair, his eyes suddenly more lucid.

(I almost wish Richie hadn't let me go)

(Easier to stay... Easier to cope)

Jason felt a chill up his spine.

No, it couldn't be that! It couldn't be the same thing! Not the same power as the house had! Not the same one Jason himself wielded on his Dad, and then on the nurse at the home! That would mean that this Loner character did it to Mara for nine years!

But how did he do it? The house? No, the old woman implied that it was Mara that somehow gave the house its power. Where did it come from in the first place?

Jason's head was spinning. He still did not have all the answers. One thing, however, was very clear. This power was bad news. If Mara was subjected to it for that long, continuously, it was little wonder she was mentally disturbed afterward. If she were released from his control in 1965, it's no wonder there was a two year gap before she moved into the house in 1967. She most likely spent that time in psychiatric treatment.

He tried fruitlessly for a little while longer to find more details on what the Loner was doing between 1956 and 1965 but came up completely empty, save for a single, grainy, black-and-white photo of the man tending a garden of some unusual-looking, broad-leafed plants, circa 1958.

He forced himself to turn away from the computer and drop into bed. He had to tell the others about this. He had to convince them to stop. If he could do that, there would be no need for him to take the power himself as the house wanted. They could all just walk away from it.

Despite being dead tired, his heart was beating so fast at his revelation that it took him a little while to drift off to sleep.

For many years, Heather would have treasured a morning of total silence from Melinda. That particular Monday morning, however, it worried her.

Heather caught Melinda as she was coming out of the shower. Melinda barely acknowledged her sister's presence as she crossed the room to the dresser to fetch her clothes.

"So, um, it's your turn today, huh?" Heather said in an even voice.

Melinda finally turned her head and gave Heather a brief glare before throwing her clothes for the day on her bed.

"I guess Richie's really in for it today."

Melinda said nothing.

"Jason, too?"

Melinda appeared to ignore this as she dressed.

Heather sighed in exasperation. "All right, stop it, Melinda."

Melinda paused and frowned at Heather. "Stop what?"

"Acting like this. The silent treatment."

"What do you care?"

"I just want to know what you're going to do today, that's all."

Melinda gave her big sister a sly smile and remained silent.

Heather ignored her growing trepidation and tried to return it with a grin of her own, but it was forced. "You're still really upset about that, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

"Well... yeah, I guess."

Melinda yanked her shirt down into place and pulled her hair out from behind it. "You guess? What the hell do you mean, you guess?"

"I mean, yeah, the little shit shouldn't have done it. But I'm not freaking out over it."

"Oh, and I suppose I'm not supposed to. That makes me the baby again, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what the fuck are you saying? That you liked it?"

Heather paused a moment. "Well, no, not exactly."

Melinda just stared.

Heather sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, I didn't care for being forced to do it," she said. "Or for saying all those ridiculous things. But it wasn't all that bad."

Melinda looked aghast. "Are you serious? You liked it?!"

"I did not say that."

"Yes, you did!"

"Look, just forget it, okay? I'm sorry I brought it up. I was mostly just trying to help you calm down about it."

"I don't need your help," Melinda snapped. "So are you coming to the house with me today or what?"

"Yeah, I'll come," Heather said in a lower voice. "But remember that he made the both of us do it."

"Except you liked it."

"Stop that!" Heather said, a trace of desperation in her voice. "I just meant that... we both have a reason to want some payback. So... so don't do anything to me, okay?"

Melinda stared at her sister for a moment before turning away. "We better get going," she said in a subdued voice.

Heather sighed and reluctantly followed.

Jason burst out of his house and pounded down the street towards the cul-de-sac, already winded barely halfway to the intersection.

He had been up so late that he had overslept, and then had to face his mother's wrath when she discovered he had plugged the cable back in the night before. He had been so wiped out that he had forgotten to go downstairs and unplug it. It was already after nine, so he just accepted her retaliation: disconnecting the cable modem entirely and putting it in her dresser. However, when she tried to ground him as well, he touched her with the power and made her retract it.

His bout of guilt over it was significant, but fleeting.

When he entered the house, he was gasping in air, one hand grabbing at a stitch in his side. As he paused to catch his breath, he realize that the living room was empty. His gaze rose to the portrait on the wall, and he felt a shudder pass through him.

He wondered where the others were, but these thoughts were dispelled when his breathing had settled down to the point where he could hear the loud, desperate moans from the floor above him.

Jason swallowed as he straightened up, still rubbing at his side.

You need to go upstairs.

Jason felt a knot in his stomach. Now he could no longer see the voice as disembodied, as free-floating through the air. He could only see Mara in the back of his mind, as if he expected her to appear in the room with him.

Please, Jason. Before it's too late.

There was a hint of desperation to the voice. Jason used to trust the voice implicitly. Now he was not so sure. Yet would it pick up on his hesitation? Would it know that he had discovered things that perhaps Mara did not want him to know?

Jason tried to avoid any stray thoughts and silently acquiesced, crossing over to the stairs and heading up to the second floor.

The moans grew more ominous to him as he approached the landing. They were not just desperate, but pleading as well, and growing more anguished each passing moment. He recognized Richie's voice right away, and it took a few more seconds to discern that the other was Heather.

He reached the landing and approached the bedroom, the door standing wide open.

"Yeah, that's right, fuck fuck fuck," Melinda's voice rang out.

Jason froze, his heart pounding.

"Fuck all you want. Fuck each other's brains out. But don't cum! Don't you dare cum!"

The sheer vindictiveness in Melinda's voice worried him. The distressed whimper that Heather gave a moment later outright scared him.

Jason felt himself move towards the bedroom again. He couldn't tell if he was doing it of his own will or if someone was nudging him along. He managed to hesitate for a second before stepping into the open doorway.

He was so taken aback by what he saw that he could not utter a word.

It was Melinda's dream bedroom again. Heather was on the bed, naked, her legs wrapped around an equally nude Richie, who was fucking her fast and hard. The both of them were covered in a sheen of sweat, their bodies writhing in a frenzy of lust and cruelly unsatisfied need. They both panted hard, moaning stridently, Richie's noises so high-pitched he almost sounded like a girl.

From the agonized look on Heather's face, it was obvious to him that she was just at the edge of orgasm but not cresting over. He could not see Richie's face, but from his voice and the frantic urgency of his movements, he guessed that it was the same with him.

"About time you showed up."

Jason nearly jumped. Melinda regarded him with a cool gaze, her lips drawn into a pout. She had stripped off some of her clothes, and now stood in her bra and panties.

Jason swallowed. "What... what are you doing to them?" he asked in a small voice.

Melinda giggled. "I though you were the geek. You figure it out."

Heather let out a loud, anguished cry, her hips rocking frantically against Richie's.

"Melinda, please... please stop this for a minute."

"Why?" she demanded. "It's my turn, dammit!"

"I know, but I need to talk to you guys about something important. Please, Melinda."

Melinda frowned and sighed. "Fine. Stop fucking, you two."

They simply stopped. Cries turned to low moans of unsatisfied lust as the two of them slowly separated. Heather's pussy was sopping wet, the insides of her thighs damp with her moisture. Richie's cock glistened with it as well. He got off the bed and staggered to the side. Heather spread her legs wide as if in vain hope she'll be allowed to cum.

"All right, there, happy now?" Melinda snapped. "What is it?"

"Can you release them?"

"No."

Jason uttered an exasperated sigh. "Melinda, please. This is important!"

"Then you can tell me. They'll hear you! What is it?"