Chapter 13

Jason sighed in exasperation, running his fingers through his hair as he paced the length of the room, his other hand curled tightly around the phone. "Cassie, I wish you hadn't done that! You and the girls could have been in serious trouble!"

"You were already busy dealing with Richie. I just wanted to help."

"Walking blindly into danger like that is not helping!"

"I did no such thing, Jason. I checked out that place as thoroughly as I could, and we covered our tracks. Everything is all right."

Jason wanted to be angry with Cassie. He needed some way to vent his frustration. But he knew that Cassie was not stupid. Someone who had managed to stand against Nyssa successfully was far more capable than he was giving her credit for now.

"I think this is too convenient. We happen to need a place to meet because of Melissa and this drops in our laps."

"Wait, you don't think Melissa is behind this?"

"Why not? With her power, she could control someone into setting this up."

"But what purpose would it serve?"

"To get us all in one place to make it easier for her to take us out of the way."

Cassie considered this for a moment. "I don't think that's possible, Jason."

"Why not? We don't know what her power level is!"

"All seven of us at once? If she had that sort of ability, she'd be on par with Nyssa, and things would be a lot worse right now."

Jason sighed. "That's a real stretch, Cassie. This is all just circumstantial evidence."

"Then why is she seeking more power?"

Jason paused and furrowed his brow. "And how would you know she's doing that?"

"Because of this..." Cassie relayed to Jason what she and Melinda had overheard. "I told the girls as well. I'll fill Ned in later before we go out on our date."

Jason remained silent for a long moment.

"Jason?" Cassie asked tentatively. "Are you still there?"

"Too convenient," Jason finally said.

"What?"

"Come on, Cassie. You and Melinda just happen to be in the right place at the right time to overhear Melissa tell her plans to Susan?"

Cassie was upset that not one but two things she thought she had done well were called into question. It made her feel like she had done nothing right that day. "You're not making any sense. Why do that in the first place?"

"I honestly don't know. And if it were just that, or just the letter about the meeting place, I might not be so suspicious."

"So what do we do now? Even if Melissa had staged that scene in the hallway, it's obvious she's up to something."

"Yeah, I know. Damn. We're not supposed to get in her way, but..."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm not sure you're interpreting Mara's prediction correctly."

Jason made a face. "Yeah, Ned read me the riot act on that already," he said sourly.

"Jason, I'm going to try my lucid dreaming one more time tonight," said Cassie. "I'm pretty close to a breakthrough. Maybe I can confirm Melissa's plans."

"All right. Thank you. I know that sort of thing is hard for you to do."

"To be honest, after hearing what she might be doing to poor Susan and her mother, I don't have as much sympathy for her. Maybe people have been cruel to her in the past, but I don't think it justifies this."

"I know, but try telling her that," Jason said, his voice more calm and even. "But what about this house? You sure that everything looked okay, Cassie?"

"Positive. We were there for an hour and nothing happened to us. Heather didn't sense anything sinister at all."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "An hour? Doing what?"

"Talking. We ... worked a few things out."

"Oh?"

Cassie tried to find the right way to say it without embarrassing him. "We think we got a handle on your, um, submissiveness problem. Both Heather and Melinda are going to back off."

Jason blinked. "Back off? But ... uh ... Melinda and I are..."

"No, I don't mean it like that. Just for Harbinger stuff. And Melinda agreed to let me keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't get out of line."

Jason was stunned. He had been in a catch-22 because the problem would have prevented him from being as forceful with Melinda as he needed to be to correct it himself. He had been too embarrassed to ask for help. He realized that was foolish on his part, but the male ego was a powerful thing.

"Thank you, Cassie," he said softly. "I owe you big. Again."

"I just wanted to help."

Jason did feel a small measure of disappointment. He had enjoyed having sex with Heather again. It wasn't better than with Melinda, just different. Having the variety had been nice.

After a moment's thought, however, he realized the flaw in the plan. "I appreciate it, Cassie, but Heather and Melinda still have their own problem they need to..."

"That's taken care of as well," said Cassie, a hint of pride in her voice. "Or rather, I think they're going to take care of it soon."

"Oh. Wow."

Cassie giggled. "Seems crazy, doesn't it? How we all seem to talk about sex routinely now?"

Jason forced a weak smile. He could not get the image of Miss Davis out of his head. Only to him there had been nothing erotic about it. It had disturbed him that Richie could be so shameless.

And now Jason realized he had to inform Cassie of the bad news. "Cassie, I need to tell you something. It's about Richie. He's out of the group."

There was a moment of silence at Cassie's end, then a slow sigh.

"I had to, Cassie. He's messing with Miss Davis and he won't quit. He doesn't see what's wrong with it. I can't rely on him anymore. I'm not sure I ever could."

"Jason, what is he doing with Miss Davis? Has he enslaved her?"

"It's as good as that."

"Is he playing to some fantasy of hers?"

Jason frowned. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Because that's a common theme of some of the other things we've seen lingering in people after Nyssa."

"But it doesn't excuse Richie's actions!"

"I'm not saying it does, but ... well, didn't you tell me that Miss Davis sort of flirted with Richie over the summer?"

"That's what Richie claims anyway," Jason said acidly. "But he can claim anything he wants. And that doesn't make it Miss Davis' fault."

"I didn't say that either!"

Jason sighed. "This isn't getting us anywhere. The fact of the matter is that he let us down. Again. I can't deal with having to watch him all the time."

Cassie thought there was more to it. She herself knew that fantasies could be very powerful things. Nyssa had manipulated one of hers, one that still came back to her at odd moments when she was alone. But she never knew whether she had any lingering influence simply because she never felt the urge to try it.

"All right, Jason," Cassie said. "You're the leader of this group, so it's your decision."

"Yes, I am," Jason said firmly. "And that decision stands."

"I need to go. I need to get ready for my date with Ned."

"Sure thing, Cassie." He smiled. "It's about time."

"About ... huh?"

"You and him I mean. Considering how much you two like each other."

Cassie giggled weakly. "I guess we are that obvious."

"If it helps any, it was Heather that had mentioned it to me a week ago. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice time."

"I'll try. Bye."

"Bye."

Richie poked at his dinner, his head leaning against one hand, his face morose. Sandra cast furtive glances, her eyes unable to settle on annoyance or concern.

"Is there something wrong with dinner, Richie?" Sandra finally asked when the silence became too much for her.

Richie shook his head without lifting his eyes. He speared a piece of chicken on his plate, seemed to contemplate it for a moment, then finally popped it in his mouth. He wrinkled his nose and sighed as he chewed, as if the meal had suddenly tasted bad to him despite being one of his favorites.

"You barely ate only half of it."

Richie shrugged. "Not that hungry."

Sandra frowned and opened her mouth, but stopped herself from making an acidic comment. The frown faded. She didn't want to risk another hurtful remark. She was not sure she could take much more from him.

She thought it rather cruel that the Darkness would not protect her feelings from Richie's sharp tongue. It would be better if she were made a total, mindless slave to it. Then she would not be conscious of Richie's hatred.

Sandra looked at Richie again. She had had the foolish notion that if she had stayed home and cooked a proper meal for him that he might actually afford her a little kindness. She did not truly believe she deserved any, but it would have made her feel better. There was so little she could do for him anymore.

"I'm sorry for this morning, Richie," Sandra blurted, though she knew it was just the wrong thing to say.

Richie's fork clattered to the plate. "Huh?"

"This morning. Whatever I did that made you upset. I'm sorry."

Richie's eyes narrowed and again burned with anger. One hand clenched, then slowly let go. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said sullenly. He moved to pick up his fork, paused, and looked at his mother again. "Mom, why'd you come to Haven?"

Sandra looked surprised at the question. "That was a long time ago. I'm not really sure anymore..."

"Bullshit."

Sandra glared at Richie, but quickly subsided. "Why is that important to you?"

"Why won't you answer it?"

Sandra hesitated. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "It's ... it's rather personal, Richie."

"Yeah, so?"

Sandra grimaced. Remembering was nearly as hurtful as Richie's words had been that morning. She waited, silently begging the Darkness to descend upon her and block out the horrible memories. But the Darkness was again cruel to her, and let her experience the emotional pain.

Perhaps it was part of her punishment. Perhaps the Darkness knew that she had stolen moments for herself as recently as the week before. Now it would let her wallow in self-misery as a reward.

She glared at Richie again. "Yeah, and how do I know you just don't want more shit to throw back at me?"

"I just want some fucking straight answers for a change."

"I didn't want any of this to happen. You have to understand that."

Richie threw his fork down again. It bounced off the plate and clattered to the tablecloth. "You totally fuck up my life and then you won't even tell me why. Yeah, some Mom you are."

Sandra felt her throat close up.

Richie shook his head and stood up. He fixed a narrow gaze at her. His expression softened slightly, but he turned away from the table just the same and started to walk out of the room.

"I was looking for help!" Sandra exclaimed.

Richie stopped at the door and turned around. "Huh? Help for what?"

"For a ... a personal problem. Between me and your father."

"What kinda problem?"

Sandra knitted her fingers together anxiously. "A sexual problem, Richie," she said in a low voice.

Richie's eyes widened.

"I was ... I couldn't ... I had trouble getting in the mood for him."

Richie stared. "You're kidding."

Sandra averted her eyes in embarrassment. "No, I'm not. We had..."

She trailed off. Her pussy was warm and damp. Not now ... please, let me finish ... if I'm to tell him the truth, let me do it my way!

Richie snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, guess you had that problem fixed, huh? You can do it with anything that moves now."

"That's not what I wanted, Richie," Sandra cried, though the wave of desire coming over her robbed it of its conviction. "I just wanted to make love to your father again."

"And you came to Haven for that? I don't get it, Mom. What the fuck was here that you didn't have back where we lived in Randall?"

Sandra felt the tendrils slithering into her mind again, wrapping themselves around her thoughts. She had little energy for resistance. Each time it got harder. "A therapist," she said in a husky voice. "A ... wonderful therapist..."

Her pussy grew hot and wet. Her thighs parted to relieve the pressure. Her arousal soared as she remembered what he had done to her, how he had twisted her desires and made her need sex as much as want it.

Richie said nothing. He just stared, his mouth open.

Sandra fought to say her own words in her own voice, but it was a losing battle. "He changed me, Richie. He made me enjoy sex again. Really enjoy it."

Richie closed his mouth. His hands clenched. It was happening again. Just when he was going to find out something, she was stopped. He wanted to sympathize with her. He knew he should, but he couldn't. The anger and the years of frustration and growing resentment were too great.

She came to Haven herself. She started it. Jason had talked about betrayal, but he felt Jason was wrong. His own mother was the original betrayer. She betrayed Richie and his father.

Richie seethed with hatred, but he bit back the impulse to shout it at her. He had gained at least that measure of compassion, however fleeting it may prove to be.

Sandra could not talk anymore. She was afraid of what she might say. The Darkness had made her intensely lustful again. Her pussy begged for relief and she had to satisfy it.

"Yeah, you enjoy it all right," Richie said in a sullen voice. "Sure. You get all that you want now. Hope it makes you happy."

The words hurt, but they also excited her beyond all reason. Her hand disappeared under the table. There was the sound of a zipper, the slide of fabric, and then wet noises.

Richie swallowed. He stared for another moment, then quickly left the room.

Sandra moaned, her fingers working wet and needful flesh. She rose at first, then hovered. She moved faster, until the uneven legs of the chair made a rapping sound against the hardwood as it rocked back and forth. She whimpered piteously as relief came no closer no matter how furiously her fingers worked her slit.

Bad girl.

Sandra whimpered again. Her pussy felt horribly achy with unsatisfied lust.

Very bad girl.

"I'm sorry..." she begged softly. "Please..."

Tell him nothing.

"B-but he deserves to know. I didn't ... I..."

No.

Sandra let her breath go as a despairing sigh. She pulled her shaking hand from under her panties. The voice fell silent in her head, but its anger was with her still.

She rose from the table. Her pussy still burned. It would stay that way, with no way to cum, until it was satisfied that she was sufficiently punished. Until she could be a good girl again. She would look forward to that.

She wiped at her eyes, took a deep breath to compose herself, and began to clear the table.

David Sovert rose from the dinner table. "Good meal, honey."

Penny smiled at him. "Thank you."

He pushed in his chair. "I need to reply to a few emails at work. Won't be long."

"Now now, dear," said Penny as she stood, taking a large bowl in her hand. "We didn't get you that internet setup so you could spend your off time at work."

David smiled. "I know, honey. I'll keep them brief."

"You better. I'll be waiting for you."

Heather shuddered at the husky tone of her mother's voice. Melinda made a face and averted her eyes when David planted a light but lingering kiss on his wife's lips. "Need help with the cleanup?" he asked softly.

"No, that's fine. It's Heather's turn tonight."

"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."

They kissed again and parted.

Melinda watched her father's retreating back and shivered before standing. "May I be excused?" she said in a small voice, not meeting her mother's gaze.

Penny looked at her for a moment. Heather heard the tiny sigh. "Yes, you may."

Melinda nodded. She looked back at Heather. Her eyes held a sultry, needful look. She swallowed and fled.

Heather felt guilty. She had been thinking about Melinda all through the meal, and it had obviously affected her little sister. But at least this time Heather didn't see the anger or frustration. If Melinda were upset about anything, it was her father.

Heather couldn't see it no matter how hard she looked. But Melinda claimed she could. It was just a very faint wisp, barely there, as if it had been a stray tendril of someone else's Aura that had found itself a new host. It was Penny's influence over him. She was exerting it more often now.

Until that evening, Melinda had held out some hope that her father had not been seriously affected by her mother's fall. Now it seemed that was gone as well.

"Heather?" Penny said crisply before carrying the bowl into the kitchen.

Heather stood and cleared the table. She helped her mother load the dishwasher in utter silence, then stood by the sink to help wash the pans and implements that could not go through the washer.

Penny turned her head and glanced at her daughter on occasion, her dark red ponytail wagging. "You're quiet tonight."

"I have something else on my mind right now, mother."

Penny sighed through her nose. "Mom" had become "mother" as of that morning. She felt like it was a demotion. "May I ask what?"

"Melinda."

"Oh?"

As casually as she could, and without bothering to lower her voice so her father would not hear, she said, "I'm going to have sex with her tonight."

Penny froze with a plate halfway out of the soapy water. She blinked a few times, then handed the plate to Heather for rinsing and drying without a word.

Heather turned to her mother with the dripping plate in her hand. "Don't you care?"

Penny looked at her. "Is it something you want to do?"

Heather hadn't expected that question, and there was a pause before she answered. "Yes."

"Then what... ?"

"Don't you care why I want to?"

"You're getting water on the floor."

Heather dutifully, if a bit perfunctorily, rinsed the plate and set it out to dry. "It didn't come from me," she said without looking at her mother. "And I'm practically controlling Melinda into doing it."

Penny's gaze hardened. "Don't blame this on me, Heather. Or ... or Haven. You're not being controlled by anyone anymore."

"No thanks to you," Heather muttered.

"I don't want to go into this again."

"Tell me something, please. Does it want us to do this?"

Penny hesitated. "I don't follow you."

"Yes, you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It wanted me to enslave my sister. Does it want me to do this, too?"

Penny stared at her daughter for a long moment, her eyes shimmering. "I-I can't tell," she said softly, averting her eyes.

Heather had hoped for an answer of "no." Then it would have been an act of defiance. She had dreaded an answer of "yes." Then she couldn't do it, no matter how badly the desire burned. She'd sooner die that do something the Darkness wanted.

This was neither. But it would have to do.

"I'm doing this for me," Heather said softly but vehemently. "No one else. And Melinda agreed. Willingly. She made the decision herself."

Heather actually still had her doubts, but she had to keep the conviction strong in her voice. She had to deny it any satisfaction it might get from this.

"Fine," Penny said in a small voice as she pulled out the drain plug. "That's fine, Heather. It's ... a good thing."

"I wish I could believe you really mean that," Heather said as she headed out of the kitchen.

Cassie looked at Ned across the table in the restaurant, tilting her head as she took a sip of her soda through the straw. "Ned, is there something bothering you?"

Ned blinked. His eyes slid back into focus. "Huh? Oh, uh, no, babe, I'm fine."

Cassie put down her glass. "You've just been so quiet. It's not like you."

Ned tried to give her an unconcerned grin, but it came out lopsided as it always did when he was faking. "Aw, yer prolly tired of hearin' my lame jokes anyway."

"I don't think your jokes are lame."

Ned felt heat rise to his cheeks. It happened every time Cassie paid him a compliment he felt he didn't deserve. Which was about every one of them so far.

Cassie sighed despondently. "It's me, isn't it?"

Ned stared. "Huh?"

"I tried to dress casual, Ned, but this is as casual as my parents would allow."

Ned couldn't help but grin faintly. He thought she was beautiful, no matter what she was wearing. Though he understood what she meant. She was the best-dressed girl in the place. Her deep blue gown was cinched at the waist, allowing her hips to flare a bit and show off their curves. There was a bit of sparkle along the hems. Her hair was piled atop her head and woven into an elegant bun, with a short ponytail emerging from one side and draped alongside her head, just brushing one cheek.

"No, yer fine, really. I mean, I kinda figgered that an' tried ta dress the same way myself."

Cassie smiled. "Yes, I noticed. You look quite handsome."

Ned snorted as he glanced down at himself. His look was simpler, though in stark contrast to his usual attire. He wore a neat, gray, buttoned shirt and a dark blue set of dress pants.

"This ain't even mine," Ned said, grabbing at his shirt. It appeared to be fitted for someone with a much broader chest. "Hand-me-down from my big bro."

"Well, it still looks nice. It was good of him to let you have it."

Ned shrugged. "He don't need it in jail."

Cassie's eyes widened. "In where?"

Ned could have smacked himself. "Long story. Let's just say he made a lotta bad decisions back in the ol' neighborhood."

Cassie nodded, not knowing what else to say.

Ned looked at her and interpreted her silence differently. "Eh, you don't wanna hear about my life."

"Who says I don't?"

Ned didn't reply, which led Cassie to draw her own conclusions.

"Wait, this isn't about me, is it?" she asked in a pained voice.

"Huh?"

"Ned, I tried to downplay this as much as possible. I don't want you of all people thinking of me as the little rich girl. I hate that almost as much as I used to hate people thinking I was insane because of my dreams."

"Whoa, no, babe, I'm sorry," Ned said quickly. "C'mon, Cassie, I know ya don't wanna put on airs. I wouldn't think ya were so cool if ya did that. Yer Mom made ya wear that, right?"

"Yes, she did."

"I mean, ya look great in it, but I know it prolly wasn't yer first choice."

Cassie paused, then smiled slightly. "Well ... I did want to look nice for you."

"Ya always look nice, Cassie."

Cassie blushed. Her smile widened.

"I just ... I dunno, I feel funny comparing myself to you. Like yer outta my league or something. I mean, wow, I'm so different from you it's nuts. It's like a movie cliche. Rich upper class girl, poor city boy. So, it's me. It's my hangup."

"I think I understand," said Cassie. She tilted her head. "So why do you call yourself a poor city boy?"

"Cuz of where I'm from. Grew up in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of New Yawk City," he said with a smirk, purposely parodying the accent. "Not exactly the garden spot of the world, ya know. Kinda rough neighborhood."

"Oh wow," Cassie said softly, her eyes wide. "How bad was it?"

Ned grinned and pointed at his nose. "A little souvenir. Got inta a fight and got my nose smashed. Not enough money in the family piggy-bank to fix it right."

Cassie covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. "Oh my, I'm so sorry..."

Ned shrugged. "Eh. Least it gets me a distinctive moniker 'round here. Everyone knows 'The Nose.' I was jus' at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm not really much of a fighter and don't really wanna be."