Chapter 14

Cassie jerked awake with a huge gasp, her heart hammering so fast in her chest she was sure it would burst.

For a few moments, she was petrified, her mind still lodged in a disorienting limbo between dream and reality. She could still see Melissa in front of her and hear the horrible sexual torments that continued to play out behind her. It was as if something had snatched at her, holding her by a single tenuous yet stubborn tendril to the dream world.

Like an overstretched rubber band, the tendril snapped, and she crashed fully back into reality.

Her body jerked again as the paralyzing fear abruptly disappeared. She felt horribly drained. Now she remembered why she didn't do lucid dreaming too much. It sometimes put her so far into the dream world that it was harder to leave.

Cassie slowly sat up. She winced as a dull pain flared at her temples.

Great, a headache on top of everything else, she lamented silently.

Cassie massaged her temples as she stood up. She took a few slow, deep breaths to try to calm herself. That had been one of the most vivid dream experiences she had ever had. Only some of the imagery from the House had come close.

She disappeared into the bathroom. In her view, most rooms in that house were much larger than they needed to be. But this one she didn't mind, as it had an alcove where she kept an electric kettle and boxes of herbal teas. These were the only things that seemed to settle her whenever she had a particularly disturbing or powerful dream.

She dropped a teabag into the cup and leaned against the door frame with a sigh as she waited for the water to boil. The revelations from her dream were only now starting to make sense to her. The more she thought about them, the more she shivered.

This is terrible, she thought. Poor Susan. And her mother! Oh goodness ... and Melissa's other power...

Cassie swallowed hard. Her dreams were never symbolic. If something flew through the air under its own power in her dream, it had done so in reality. The conclusion was inescapable and frightening.

A telekinetic, Cassie thought, an icy chill creeping up her spine. If she wasn't powerful enough...

Cassie poured her tea, sweetened it, and sipped it thoughtfully as she left the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn't do that again. Breaking into Melissa's reality had taken too much out of her.

And that pendant, the one that had looked like...

Cassie looked puzzled. It was as if she had tried to chase down a thought and it had eluded her. What was she thinking about? The pendant? She had seen it, but it had not appeared to matter much in the dream. Melissa didn't do anything with it. It just hung from her neck like a piece of jewelry would.

She had to tell Jason about this, but later once she was not so shaky. She quietly finished her tea and set about getting ready for school.

Richie's eyes blinked open.

"Arrrgggh!"

He curled his hands into fists, and beat them repeatedly against the mattress. He turned on his side and beat the pillow with one fist a dozen times, leaving it a misshapen, lumpy mass of down.

He stared at it for a moment, then swept it off the bed, sending it into a lamp on his night stand and nearly tipping it over. He wiped his face with his hand and sat up in bed, drawing his knees to his chest.

This was driving him crazy. Again and again, night after night. It was almost like those strange waking dreams he had at Linda's place.

But they were not dreams, they were real...

Richie looked towards his closet. It appeared rather different from his dream. In the dream, it had a hinged door. His had a sliding door. In the dream the room had a bay window. His had a regular window.

The bay window. He remembered that. His mother had the bay window replaced when it got damaged by a falling branch from a heavy spring blizzard. He frowned. Was that it? Another weird look into the past?

No, that was stupid. No one can see the past like that. It had to be something else. Something that made more sense. Maybe he just dreamed it, and it wasn't real.

But it was real. He knew it. He could not bring himself to think otherwise. It was not so much belief as instinct.

Richie kicked off the covers and stood up. Jason would know about this. He always does. Or even Cassie. She's supposed to know about dreams. Maybe he was getting as wacky as her. He would just ask them...

Except he couldn't. Not anymore.

"Shit!" Richie exclaimed, stamping his foot.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The images would not leave him. They replayed in his head. The scene of the ring being thrown, bouncing, disappearing into the closet, repeated over and over.

"Get the fuck out of my head!" he screamed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He turned his head and nearly jumped at his own reflection. Still panting, he stared at himself in the mirror.

He didn't know anymore who it was staring back. It looked like him. It was the familiar freckled face, tousled sandy hair, and changeable pale blue eyes that sometimes edged towards green. But it was as if a shell stood propped up against the sink. He stared at something vacant and empty.

Anger marred his face. Even that emotion seemed meaningless. He had the urge to punch out that reflection, to sock the fake Richie on the jaw and make the real one come back.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I am getting as whacked-out as Cassie."

He tore his eyes away. The images from his dream had faded. As long as he was not in his room, they didn't plague him. He seriously considered sleeping on the couch that night.

He sighed. He was alone in the house again. His mother would have already checked on him if she had been home. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or hurt.

Richie thumped the door with his fist and turned to use the shower.

Melinda flounced onto the bus, her hair flying. She smiled at Jason as she plopped into her customary seat next to him. She snuggled against him briefly, giving him a half-hug with one arm.

Jason forced a faint smile. He wished he could share Melinda's apparent good spirits. He looked across the aisle as Heather sat down, looking more chipper herself. "Um ... so, you two, uh, take care of things?"

"Yeah, we boinked each other," Melinda said.

"Melinda!" Heather hissed and leaned forward. Her eyes flicked back and forth. "You want everyone in school to know?"

Melinda stuck her tongue out at Heather. "Maybe I don't care anymore."

Heather sighed and rolled her eyes, settling back into her seat.

"Well, even though we're more open about this stuff now, I don't think we want to advertise it," said Jason. He was making a conscious effort not to let himself be influenced by Melinda. It helped that he already had something else weighing heavily on his mind.

"Oh, yeah, and like there aren't others in school boinking each other more because of everything that happened," said Melinda loftily.

Jason subsided, then thought better of it. "I don't think they want to bring attention to it either, Melinda."

Before Melinda could reply, Heather cut in. "Where's Richie?"

Jason sighed and jerked his head to one side. Heather and Melinda craned their necks. Richie was sitting in the rearmost seat, staring sullenly out the window, as if making a conscious effort not to look their way.

"What's with him?" asked Heather.

"Maybe Miss Davis wouldn't let her boink him," piped Melinda. "I can always hope."

"He's out of the Harbingers," said Jason.

Heather stared at him in shock.

Melinda was shocked as well, but recovered swiftly. "About time!"

Jason felt reluctant to contradict Melinda, but the gravity of the act overcame it. "I didn't like doing it, but he wouldn't let go of Miss Davis."

Melinda gasped. "He did enslave her again! That fucking perv!"

"No, Melinda, it wasn't quite like that..."

"Don't tell me it wasn't! I know he..."

"Melinda," Heather said firmly. "You're doing it again."

Melinda frowned at her. "Huh?"

"What Cassie said yesterday."

"I'm just saying what I feel, that's all."

"I know, Melinda. But just ease off a little and let Jason talk, please?"

Melinda hesitated. Her instinct was to defy her big sister. It was what she always did. But it was a little harder to do now. She sighed and nodded. "Sorry, Jason."

Jason gave Heather a grateful look. "It's complicated. It's like Miss Davis has a fantasy and Richie is playing it out. But he's not giving her a chance to decide whether she really wants it or not."

"But he can't keep going around doing it with a teacher," Heather said in a low voice.

"Right. I know. Miss Davis knows it's wrong as well, but ... like I said, it's complicated. And it's not the only reason he's out."

"I would have gotten rid of him right after he went to Nyssa on his own," Melinda grumbled. "He's a traitor. He... "

"Melinda..." Heather began in a warning tone.

"Heather, I'm not saying anything Jason hasn't already said to me before."

"There's no point arguing about it," said Jason. "It's done. Leave it alone, please."

Heather noticed the pained look on Jason's face even if Melinda had not. It was obvious that it had hurt Jason to do this. However, Heather thought it the right thing to do as well. Turning himself over to Nyssa had been the most horrible thing that Richie had ever done.

"Jason, are we going to meet today after school?" Heather asked. "Since we checked the place out with Cassie?"

"I really wish you hadn't done that..."

"Well, we did it. Like you just said about Richie, it's done. Nothing weird happened to any of us."

"And it's a really cool place!" said Melinda happily. "It's huge!"

"I still want to know who sent us that note," Jason said. "But I guess if we're going to meet, we might as well do it today. The letter said don't use it on Thursdays. Today's Wednesday, so if we don't use it today, we'll have to wait until Friday."

Melinda glanced towards the back of the bus. She caught Richie looking their way. He jerked his head to the side and stared out the window again.

She frowned and leaned forward. "And don't tell Richie about it. Don't tell him where it is or what we're doing."

"Yeah, I have to agree with that, Jason," Heather said. "If he's pissed at you, you don't want to take the chance of him trying to screw you over."

Jason wanted to believe that Richie would be above such a thing, but he honestly did not know. He wanted to agree with them, and struggled for a moment to convince himself it was what he really wanted and not a case of parroting what they wanted. He turned his head and looked at Richie as well.

Holding his gaze on Richie, he finally said, "Yeah, probably better to be safe than sorry."

Richie could not hear them from the back, but he noticed Jason looking at him. When he turned his gaze towards his former friend, he saw Heather and Melinda were looking as well.

For a moment he had the crazy idea that they wanted him back.

But then he saw the disappointed look on Jason's face, the memory of Jason's harsh words still fresh in his mind. He saw Melinda's accusing stare and Heather's disdainful one. Richie frowned, flipped his middle finger at them, and resumed looking out of the window.

"Yeah, fuck you, Richie," Melinda muttered. "I still say good riddance."

Jason said nothing, giving her only a small nod of his head as he turned his gaze away from Richie for the last time.

Diane had eaten only a bit of her lunch before she reverted to picking at it with her fork.

"It started some time this morning, Diane," said Heather. "Just a sense that something is wrong. That something is going to change."

Diane was anxious to express what was on her own mind, but she knew this was important. Heather's precog ability was admittedly a mystery to her, and it was apparent that Heather didn't understand it any better. "Are any of us in trouble?"

Heather paused a moment, a distant look to her eyes. "It's possible, but ... I think it's going to me rather than anyone else."

Diane put down her fork. In a nervous voice she asked, "Is it Melissa?"

"Well, there isn't anyone else it could be, is there?"

"What about me? Are you sensing anything about me?"

Heather shook her head. "No, not really. But you know what's really strange about this, Diane? I've never had something this clear before. Or this far ahead. I usually get these things only minutes before something happens. Now I'm sure that whatever this is, it's not going to happen until tomorrow."

"You better tell the others about this, Heather," Diane said anxiously. "Please. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm going to tell everyone at the meeting this afternoon."

Diane nodded and averted her eyes. "Um ... How did it go with Melinda yesterday?"

"Oh, um ... it went rather well, actually."

Heather didn't offer any more than that. A nervous silence fell between them.

Diane sighed and gave up on her rapidly waning appetite. She looked up. "Did it make it easier for you to think about ... other things?"

Heather didn't respond for a long moment. Diane looked at her and found that she had stopped eating as well. Heather reluctantly met Diane's eyes and said in a quiet voice, "I'm still thinking about it."

Diane breathed in deeply and let it go. It wasn't quite the disaster she expected. But it wasn't any better than that.

"I really feel bad about this, Diane. I'm not ... I'm not put off by the idea of a relationship with you. I've pretty much accepted that I'm bisexual now."

Nevertheless, a blush came to her cheeks. Diane noticed this, but didn't know what to make of it. "Well, that's better than an outright 'no, ' I guess," Diane said, though her tone was a touch morose.

"Well, it is, actually. I just need some more time. I want to have the same feelings for you, but I'm not sure yet."

Diane nodded. She wished she were more aggressive in matters like this. If Heather were really open to the idea, and Diane could seduce her, then...

No, that was a ridiculous idea. She couldn't see herself doing that. She would rather play the submissive role, even if she did not call it that in her own head. Heather had always been the more dominant one in their friendship. She always followed Heather's lead. Heather had come up with all the ideas of what they did with their time.