Chapter 8

Wednesday morning, and the Haven Harbingers stood staring at the east entrance of the school.

They had christened themselves with this name on the bus ride that morning, after much acrimonious debate. Actually, it was Jason that had settled it. He had not wanted to get involved, as he thought it silly to come up with a name for themselves. Out of frustration to end the pointless debate, he blurted out that name, and it was accepted.

After explaining to Richie exactly what "harbinger" meant, that is. Richie had not been entirely convinced of the merits of that name (his exact words were "that sucks") but the others were tired of arguing and accepted it.

It was about that point that Jason came to a realization. It had not been his imagination that the others had been looking to him. Once they had named their group, he knew that he had just become the de-facto leader of it. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve it, but he accepted it grudgingly.

"We've got about fifteen minutes," Jason said. "After that I'll get a lateness on my record."

"Betcha your mom will ream you for that," Richie said with a smirk.

"No, she won't. I'd be more concerned about my dad," Jason said darkly.

Richie's smirk faded. "Oh, hey, sorry, I forgot about that..."

Jason just shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"So did you figure out a story to tell the nurse yet?" Melinda asked.

Jason sighed. He had wracked his brains over that the night before while waiting to fall asleep. It had kept him up a good two hours before he figured out something. "Yeah, you could say that."

He reached into a pocket of his jeans and carefully extracted what looked like several facial tissues wrapped around something thin and rectangular. He carefully unfolded the tissues to reveal a straight-edge razor blade.

Melinda gasped loudly. Heather, who had been anxiously gazing towards the school, turned her attention back to the others. Her eyes widened and she stepped between Jason and the school. "Jason! They catch you with that, they'll expel you on the spot!" she hissed.

"Yeah, what the fuck, man??" Richie cried softly. "You know they're gung ho about no weapons in school. You can't even look at anyone funny without bein' called out on it!"

"They suspended a kid last year for just bringing some nail clippers into class!"

"Will you all shut up?!" Jason whisper-shouted. He glanced around to see if anyone were paying anything other than casual interest in them. "I'll just drop it on the ground before I go in. I only need it out here."

"Out here?" Melinda said, confused. "What are you going to use it for?"

Jason picked up the blade in his other hand. "Well, I have to have a good excuse for seeing the nurse, don't I?" He extended the index finger of the original hand. "Something that won't make her suspicious, right?"

"Ohmigod, Jason, you're not going to..." Heather said, trailing off.

Jason placed one corner of the blade against the pad of his finger.

"Jason! No!" Melinda cried.

"Oh man..." Richie muttered, staring.

Jason closed his eyes tightly and jerked his hand in a single swift movement to the sharp intake of breath of the girls. The pain was surprisingly mild, yet the effect was dramatic. As he dropped the blade to the gravel, kicking it with his foot to conceal it, several bright red drops formed along the narrow slash and fell to the ground in a continuous march.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Melinda said miserably.

Heather paled, swallowing.

Richie clapped Jason on the back. "Man, that's... that's fuckin' brave of ya."

Jason rolled his eyes and quickly wrapped the tissues tightly around his injured finger. His hands shook, his heart racing, his stomach trying to lurch and heave as of only now realizing what he had just done to himself. He tasted bile in his mouth briefly. "Nothing brave about it," he muttered. "Just meant I couldn't come up with anything better."

"Oh, eww, it's already soaking through the tissues," Melinda said, wrinkling her nose.

"You better get that looked at, Jason," Heather said, her voice quavering. She shook her head slowly. "I have to admit, that's a crazy idea."

"Yeah, Jason! I wouldn't have let you do it if you had told me about it."

Jason smirked. "Why do you think I didn't tell you?"

Melinda gave him an indignant look.

Blood formed a single drop on the now soaked tissues. He shook it off in annoyance and raced towards the school entrance.

"I don't believe he did that!" Melinda cried shrilly. "He... he cut his own finger! God!"

"What the hell was he thinking?" Heather chimed in.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, it's not like he freakin' broke his leg or something. Shit. Just a little cut."

"A little cut?" Melinda cried. "Then you pick up the blade and you do it next!"

Richie bit down a retort. He wouldn't let on to the others, but he was seriously impressed with what Jason did. He felt an obligation now not to get his girlfriend into another snit.

Fortunately, a distraction behind Melinda came to his assistance. He turned his head and nodded in that direction. "Hey, there's Cassie."

"Huh?" Melinda whirled around, her hair nearly hitting Richie on the face. She watched as Cassie quickly dashed from the limo and into the east entrance.

"Why don't you go talk to her or something?"

Melinda turned and shot Richie an angry glare.

"What I do now?! You said you were friends with her before. You've been wanting to talk to her. Go do it!"

"I should! After you were so mean to her..."

"Fine. I was mean. I was an asshole. Satisfied? Now go talk to her. You two can say nasty things about me behind my back."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it!" Melinda whirled again and stormed off.

Heather smirked. "That was not a good idea."

"Oh, yeah?"

"By the end of the week, every girl in school will think you're an asshole."

Richie just shrugged. He was pretty sure that this is what most of the girls already thought of him. That was why the revelation about Miss Davis had been such a large blow to him. He thought he had finally met a girl with whom he had made a decent first impression before she heard any of the stories about him.

"Whatever," Richie said dismissively. He looked at Heather. "So you pickin' up any vibes or something?"

"You mean, do I still have a really bad feeling about all this? Yeah, I do. I don't like this. Maybe... maybe more than one of us should have gone."

"Yeah, but she'd start thinking something funny was goin' on with four kids showing up with finger cuts, you know?"

Heather said nothing in response.

Richie shook his head. "Look, we'll find out soon enough. He said the Hairbringers..."

"Harbingers," Heather corrected.

"Whatever... should meet near the auditorium before first class." He paused and groaned. "Man, I still think that name sounds stupid. What the fuck was a harbinger again?"

"Someone that foretells something else," Heather explained. "Something that comes ahead of another. Like we come ahead of the darkness, I suppose."

Richie's expression soured. "Yeah, well... considering what I saw on Mom yesterday, I think the darkness got a head start on us."

Jason was briefly accosted by one teacher for running in the halls. When he raised his bloody finger, however, the teacher immediately told him to report to the nurse's station. At least now his mission was "official," as a teacher had told him to do it.

He was actually dismayed when he saw the flow of blood slow. He had wondered if the sharpness of the blade would have produced too clean a cut that scabbed over too quickly. He remembered a year ago when he had been helping his father with something in the attic and had accidentally shot a staple from a staple gun into the pad of his finger. The staple had gone in and out so cleanly when it bounced off the bone that it had bled profusely for thirty seconds and then simply stopped.

It was too late to worry about any of this, for he had reached the end of the hallway in the west wing and stood before the door labeled "Nurse's Station" in large lettering. He took a deep breath and let himself in.

Jason stepped into the small reception area, paused, then closed the door behind him. He swallowed, his heart pounding. He glanced at the desk, noting how oddly empty it appeared. In fact, there was little adornment anywhere.

Jason was about to call out when his senses were jolted by the scrape of heel against tile.

"Yes? May I help you?"

Jason was too stunned to speak.

The very thing he had dreaded he would see, and it was the first thing that leapt out at him. He saw it before he saw her. Unlike Principal Bendon, it did not hug her body like a second skin, or like a cloak or other attire. Instead, it was a thick, roiling, utterly black miasma. It swirled and oozed like oil, hovering around her body like a loose-fitting cocoon.

As he stared, he saw the patterns straining to emerge from the chaos. Yet instead of making him lightheaded this time, it filled him with increasing fear. It seemed to be trying to form shapes behind her. It would not come to him easily. Sometimes it appeared to stretch and shape itself, but the next moment it would writhe and undulate and fall back upon itself. It was as if it were fighting him, his mind intent on committing it to a form, while it resisted and insisted there was no form to be found.

Nyssa cocked her head slightly to one side in curiosity and stepped forward. Now Jason's attention was captured by her rather than the aura, and it became difficult to think.

Jason could not comprehend her beauty. Her hair, her breasts, her hips, her legs... everything was simply perfect. And then there were the eyes...

The moment his gaze touched hers, he felt a cold tingle shoot through his body, making him shiver. Before he could be drawn into the icy depths, he blinked and tried to avert his eyes. He was only partially successful, managing to stop looking directly into them. At the same time, he was compelled to keep them in his field of vision, where they seemed to sparkle like rime on an autumn morning.

Now Nyssa stood before him. The darkness swirled excitedly around her.

"May I help you?" Nyssa repeated in a more sultry tone of voice.

Jason took a breath, trying to ignore the effect she was having in his nether regions. "Um... y-yes, I... I hurt my finger on some broken glass." He paused and raised his finger.

Nyssa's lips drew into a pout and she cradled his hand in hers. Jason drew in his breath sharply as a shudder passed through his body at even just the light touch. "Oh, yes, I see... mmm, quite nasty cut you gave yourself."

"Gave myself? No, no. Uh, I thought I saw something shiny in... i-in the gravel in the parking lot and just bent over to pick it up, that's all."

Nyssa gave him a wry grin. She placed her other hand atop his and caressed him softly. "I'm sure it was an accident. Unless of course... it was an excuse to see me."

Jason swallowed. His breath quickened and there was a very rigid and uncomfortable hardness in his jeans. His cock was caught in a position where it could not expand completely. He struggled not to look directly into her eyes. The miasma around her seemed to waver, occasionally fading out a bit, coming into clear perception again only when he managed to jerk his gaze slightly.

Nyssa squeezed his hand. His heart thumped.

"Oh, don't worry... I would be most... flattered... if that were the case."

Jason managed a smile. As excited as he grew sexually in her presence, his fear was rising in equal measure. He kept waiting for signs that the darkness was stealing his mind, just as it had in the House, just as he was sure it had done to Richie's mom the day before. Save for his arousal and the unnatural attraction of her eyes, he felt like he was still in control of his thoughts for the time being.

"Here, let me take you inside and we'll get that fixed up for you. After all... there's hardly any pleasure in an injury. And if there's one thing I wish for the students, it is pleasure."

The word came out as a seductive, sultry sigh, and she licked her lips. Jason felt his skin go hot, and the stiffness in his crotch grow uncomfortable almost to the point of pain.

Nyssa smiled at him. She started to turn, stopped, and dropped her eyes. Jason uttered a quick sigh of relief as eye contact was broken, but it was short lived with he felt something hook into the belt of his jeans.

He looked down. His eyes became saucers and his mouth dropped open as he spotted Nyssa's finger hooked into the waist of his jeans, just above his crotch.

Nyssa grinned wickedly, then gave the waist of his jeans a sharp tug.

Jason gasped. In his pants, his cock was jolted from its awkward position and immediately expanded to its full, pulsing length, relieving the uncomfortable pressure.

"Better?" Nyssa asked.

Jason swallowed hard and nodded.

Nyssa lifted her hand. "Come with me, Jason."

"Cassie?"

Cassie flinched at the sound of the voice, even as softly as it spoke. She cast two startled eyes in its direction.

"Sorry," Melinda said sheepishly. "Um... you remember me? Melinda Sovert?"

Cassie started nodding halfway through her question. "I remember you," Cassie said in a low voice. She forced a small smile. "Hi."

"Uh, hi."

There was an awkward pause between the two of them. Then both tried to speak at once.

"Melinda, I didn't meant to ignore you, I..."

"Cassie, I'm sorry Richie was such a turd towards..."

Both fell silent again. What Melinda had started to say now registered in Cassie's mind. Cassie drew a long breath. "You don't have to apologize for him," she said in a strained voice.

"Between you and me, Cassie, the only reason I hang out with him at all is because he's Jason's friend. I can't stand him otherwise."

Melinda admittedly felt a small twinge of guilt over saying this. She did indeed have sympathy for Richie and what he was going through with his mother. Seeing him freak out over it the day before cast Richie in a slightly more sympathetic light with her. But she valued Cassie's friendship more. She was the only familiar face outside of her own close circle. The only others she knew were some of her peers from her former grammar school, many of whom she didn't like.

Cassie managed a tiny smile, thought there was little humor to it. "Richie thinks I'm a weirdo, doesn't he?"

"You're not a weirdo, Cassie!"

"But that's what he thinks. Isn't it?"

Melinda paused a long moment. "Yes," she said in a very small voice.

Cassie sighed despondently. She felt a sob trying to rise up from her tightening chest.

"Look, Cassie, what does he know, huh? He treats anything he doesn't understand like it's weird or stupid. He's just like that. Forget about him."

"I can't," Cassie said in a barely audible voice.

"You... what?"

"I can't forget him. I can't stop thinking about him. I can't... I can't stop dreaming about him."

Melinda felt herself giving Cassie a funny look and stopped it at once. She simply could not comprehend how anyone could possibly have the hots for someone like Richie. "Uh... you dream about him?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes. And now you think I'm weird, too."

"Huh? No, I don't!"

"But it is weird, Melinda! It is! Even I can say it now. Nothing is normal about me."

Melinda did not respond at first.

Cassie rushed into the silence. "I used to think other people had dreams like I did. They don't. Not as real-looking as mine. Not about so many people."

Melinda hesitated. "Well... s-so what?"

"So what? Melinda, my dreams... they... they take so much out of me... it's like living another reality every night... I..."

Melinda was staring at her.

Cassie sighed. "See? Exactly what I said. I'm not normal, and now you think it, too."