Chapter 10

Heather leaned over the side of the tub and grasped the spigots, her breasts dangling under her, nipples already hard and taut. She opened the faucet and held her hand under the stream as she waited for the hot water.

Behind her, a naked Melinda folded her arms. "Why the hell do we have to do it in here?"

"Do you really want Mom walking in on us, runt?"

Melinda snorted. "Not like she would care. She'd probably want to join in."

Heather straightened, shaking water from her hand. "Yeah, and you want her trying to mess with our heads when we're fucking?"

Melinda's cheeks pinked. "It's going to be awkward in there! I'll hardly have any room."

"Stop complaining." Heather smiled. "You know, I can make you like it."

Melinda's eyes widened and she backed up into the sink. "Don't you... !"

"Yeah, you love it, baby sis. It makes you horny just thinking about it."

Melinda grasped the sink behind her with trembling hands. "S-stop it..."

"You just love licking me in the shower. Just love it."

Melinda moaned and squeezed her legs together. "Uhn ... sh-shit, I hate how easy you can do that."

Heather smiled and cupped one of Melinda's breasts. "Only because you always keep resisting me, so I had to get better at it."

Melinda leaned into the touch. "At least you waited until I had my clothes off this time," she said in a weak voice. "G-god! I hardly ever have clean panties anymore ... uhhn! ... ohmigod ... wh-what... ?"

Heather kneaded both Melinda's breasts, flicking the nipples with her fingers. She willed her little sister to get more aroused each time she did it.

"Uhhng ... uhhn ... j-jeez..."

Heather giggled as steam drifted around them. She turned away, leaving her sister quivering and panting. Melinda's feet slid apart, her hand venturing towards her pussy.

Heather glanced behind her as she crouched near the faucet. "No touching yourself, baby sis."

Melinda's hand fell away. "I hate you," she moaned.

Heather adjusted the water a final time. "But you love my pussy, don't you?" She pulled the button atop the faucet that sent the water spraying from the shower-head

"I love to lick it ... I love to eat you out ... oh, stop it already..."

Heather stepped back to Melinda. She touched her sister's arm, and Melinda's lust eased with a slow sigh and slump of her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Heather said in a contrite voice. "I've pulled back a bit."

Melinda's hips squirmed. "You're still in my head."

"Only a little. You still want to lick me, don't you?"

"You made me that way," Melinda retorted, but the conviction was weak.

"Maybe I did, I don't know," Heather said. "But I need you, Melinda, please. I'm not sure I'll get through the day if you don't do this for me."

"I told you I would do it when you needed it. You don't have to keep screwing with my head all the time. That's the only thing that gets me mad at you."

Heather sighed and lowered her eyes. Steam billowed from behind the shower curtain and filled the room. "It's like an impulse, Melinda. I just ... I just do it without thinking."

Melinda stared at her sister, which inflamed her desire without Heather's direct help. "God, you even made me get hot looking at other girls!"

Heather smirked. "Oh, you're exaggerating, Melinda.

Melinda wanted to say something else but reconsidered, her cheeks reddening again. Her eyes roamed over her sister's body despite her attempts to stop herself.

"That why you keep checking me out?" asked Heather.

Melinda shivered. "Not when I looked at you earlier. I was looking for an Aura."

"I don't have one, I keep telling you that. This has nothing to do with the Darkness."

Melinda folded her arms again and tried to avoid Heather's eyes. Her gaze instead fell on Heather's wet pussy, and she trembled with renewed desire.

"I know what the Darkness feels like," Heather said in a hollow voice. "I've been affected by it too many times to forget."

Melinda forced herself to raise her eyes to her sister's face.

"I don't know what this is," Heather said. "Just ... just don't give me a hard time with it, okay?"

"I'll try." Melinda glanced at the shower. "We better get inside, or Mom will be wondering why we're wasting all the hot water. And ... and I want to lick your pussy until you cum all over my face."

Heather giggled. Melinda blushed scarlet.

"Sorry," said Heather.

"No, you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. Come on, I want that sweet little tongue of yours in my cunt."

Melinda felt a rush of heat over her naked skin, and not all of it prompted by Heather's influence. As Heather turned around to enter the shower, Melinda's gaze drifted to Heather's rear, sending another little shiver of lust through her.

Melinda let Heather believe she was exaggerating. Her worries were real, and letting them slip out embarrassed her more than was obvious to her big sister. She consoled herself that her bigger secrets -- such as occasionally wondering what Cassie looked like naked -- remained buried.

Melinda followed her sister, the steam shrouding her like thick fog. Heather yanked the shower curtain closed, her panting rising over the rush of the water. She slid an arm around her little sister's waist and drew her close until their bodies touched. Melinda's breath came out as a ragged sigh, her next one drawn as a gasp when Heather's fingers sank into her slit.

Melinda moaned as the intimate touch overwhelmed her resistance. She pumped her hips against Heather and rubbed her slick pussy against Heather's hand. She whimpered when Heather suddenly withdrew.

"You'll cum after you make me cum, baby sis," Heather said.

Melinda dropped to her knees, staring at Heather's pussy as if in worship, her lust rising not just at Heather's bidding. Her protests drowned in warm water and hot lust, and she pressed her lips to Heather's wet folds.

Heather shuddered as Melinda's tongue milked Heather's clit with firm, quick strokes. There was not enough time for delicacy, not when they had to get ready for school that Monday morning. Yet she didn't want to rush it, and she gave her sister a mental nudge.

Melinda panted into Heather's pussy, drawing a husky sigh from her sister. Melinda's pussy ached as she inhaled the deep heady aroma of Heather's wet flesh. Her hands trembled and fluttered about her thighs, but Heather forbade her to let them get any closer to her sex.

Heather leaned forward, mashing her sex into Melinda's face. "More of your sweet little face in my muff, please."

Melinda shuddered as sweet pleasure blossomed in her own pussy with the press of her face against Heather's sex. Then she realized she was rising, as if someone were stroking her.

Heather smiled. "This works with Diane, let's see how it works with you."

Melinda whimpered and moaned through her nose, sucking Heather's clit into her mouth. Heather gasped and her hips bucked. She wanted to bury Melinda's face in her mound and make Melinda face-fuck her as hard as she could.

No, stop it, don't go that far.

Heather trembled, her hands clenched as if holding on to something. She leaned back against the wall. Melinda followed, her pussy straining near the edge, her jaw and tongue aching with her effort to bring Heather to orgasm so she could be rewarded.

Controlling her too much ... but I have to, or she won't ... or the others won't ... no, not the others ... not that ... I can't do that to them ... I just CAN'T...

Heather tossed her head back, bumping it against the tile behind her. Melinda gurgled as Heather's cum gushed over her face and splashed to the bottom of the tub. She swallowed a mouthful without hesitation and licked Heather's pussy as if wanting more. Heather's body shook with her orgasm.

Melinda drew back. Heather's hand scrabbled against the tiles as she fought to catch her breath, her pussy still throbbing in the aftermath.

I can't.

But now Heather had forgotten what she couldn't do.

Melinda looked up. "You okay?"

"Huh? I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little strange for a minute. You ... what are ... ohmigod..."

Heather grinned. Her foot rubbed against Melinda's slick mound.

"Uhnn ... s-stop it ... I..."

"Don't you want to cum?"

"Not with your foot! It's too ... uhn! ... t-too weird..."

"Diane loves it."

Melinda panted hard. "She loves anything you do to her."

"Yeah, and you love this."

Melinda whimpered. Her knees slid further apart, and she rocked her hips in time to Heather's strokes. She let out a shrill cry as she came, pussy throbbing hard against Heather's foot.

Heather watched her sister writhe in the throes of climax. She pulled her foot back a little and wiggled her toes against Melinda's sex. Melinda uttered another low cry. Heather smiled and tweaked Melinda's clit with her big toe a few times before withdrawing.

Melinda looked up and scrunched her nose. "That was weird."

Heather lowered her foot. "Yeah, but you loved it."

Melinda stood. "But don't make me love it all the time, okay?"

Heather's smile faded, and she nodded. "I won't. Come on, we better get finished in here."

As she reached for the soap, the thought came to her again.

I can't.

And again, she had no idea what it meant.

"Jason, you better be dressed and ready for school if you don't want to be late for the bus!"

Jason was re-bundling the pages of Elizabeth's journal halfway through his mother's announcement "I've been ready for a bit, Mom, just catching up on email!" he called out as he shoved the document under the bed.

"Well, let it go until later and get on to school."

Jason straightened and combed his hair with his fingers. "Sure thing, Mom, just a second."

He plopped down in front of his computer, all set to type in his references for the page he just read, but paused when he realized his mother would likely hear the typing and think he was defying her order. He clicked on the icon to shut down the computer and jumped out of the chair.

Jason wanted to maintain a good relationship with his mother. He still felt guilty, first for what he did to her during the summer with the power from the House, and then again when he used the spell from the Book to erase her memory of his truancy while the Harbingers were dealing with Melissa.

He tread a fine line. His mother was still upset over Jason sneaking out the night of the Rite. He suspected that his father was responsible for protecting him from her full wrath, but his father's motivation was a mystery.

Jason gathered his books into his book-bag, along with a printout from his computer. He stared at the gap between bed and floor where the Book lay just out of sight, and raised the same debate with himself he did every morning: bring the Book or leave it?

Jason worried that he put his mother at risk by leaving the Book at home, but carrying it with him would make it easier for Principal Laura Bendon to take it from him.

Ms. Bendon had her share of Dark power, but her Aura was different than those that were enslaved to the Entity. Those Auras showed little volition or will, only obedience and the glow of sexual reward. Her Aura -- and her actions -- betrayed both cunning and ambition, and thus he believed her assistance to the Darkness was tendered on the provision that there was something in it for her.

Jason reached under the bed and pulled out the small wooden box given to him by Mrs. Radson. He stared at it for a few seconds, then opened it and lifted the fragment of Melissa's old pendant still attached to the chain. He stuffed it into his pocket, kicked the box under the bed, and dashed out of the room.

He barreled down the hall, and a figure loomed from the floor below as he reached the top of the stairs. His foot missed the top step in his effort to stop when his book-bag unbalanced him, and he grabbed the banister to prevent a spill.

"Good morning, son."

Jason stared at his father Henry Conner as if intending to challenge him over that simple statement. Henry's face was set as hard as the words were casual. He folded his arms across his chest and cast a placid gaze upon his son that Jason interpreted as expectant.

Jason realized his foolish assumption, that he had been too wrapped up in the journal to hear the garage door cycle as his father left for the hospital. He listened for that sound every morning and felt relieved when he heard it, as it meant another morning where he did not have to see his father's Aura.

He forced himself to walk, each step wary, his muscles tensed for flight. Henry followed him with steel-blue eyes. Jason traced the edges of his father body with his gaze, where the Aura churned and seethed.

Henry's Aura was similar to Melissa, that of someone who had taken Dark power of his own will and wielded it with autonomy. That was all they shared. After Melissa's defeat, Jason saw more differences between his father's Aura and any other he had ever seen.

"No good morning in return?" said Henry.

"Morning, father," Jason said in a formal voice. He continued down the stairs. His father did not move, and he was forced to stop on the bottom step.

"Some thanks are in order from you, I would think."

Jason stared. "For what?"

"For what I did for you that night a week and a half ago."

Jason paused. He listened hard. If the Darkness spoke to his father at all, he would hear it. He heard nothing.

"Well?"

"Thanks," Jason said.

Henry sighed. "Your mother could have grounded you. She wanted to, for several days afterward. You have me to thank that she didn't."

Jason listened again, trying to let himself remain open to that power even as much as he hated it. Still nothing. "Why did you do it?" Jason heard himself ask.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Yes, why? Why did you cover for me like that?"

When Henry hesitated, Jason understood he had as good as admitted that his description of the events that took place in the picnic area the night of the Rite was only a cover story. "Jason, sometimes a teenager like you has to be allowed to do things on his own. And find out things on his own."

Jason looked for a hidden meaning to his father's words, as they had answered nothing. Jason was no more comfortable with leaving the Book -- or the journal -- out of his sight.

Jason's mother Audrey emerged from the kitchen. "Jason, did you hear me? You're going to be late if you don't--" She stopped short as she beheld the confrontation. Her eyes shifted between them from behind stray strands of auburn hair. "Of all the times you two pick to finally talk to each other," she muttered.

"I'm heading out right now, Mom," Jason said. He started forward and looked at his father in a silent dare. Henry stepped back, arms still folded and gaze still cool, as if he disapproved of the intent to break off the battle.

Audrey sensed the tension and cast an exasperated look at her husband. Henry's face did not change as he turned and headed for the garage.

Guilt weighed on Jason's shoulders once more. He wanted to explain all he knew of Haven to his mother, but it would lead him to accusations that his mother would never accept or fathom.

Jason waited until his father had retreated, then turned towards his mother. "Sorry about that, Mom, I'll try not to pick fights with him anymore."

Audrey appeared surprised, as if she had already set in her mind who the aggressor had been. "Honestly, I don't understand this ... this rivalry between you two! I really want it to stop, I'm about at my wits end with it."

"I'll try, Mom. I'll, um ... I'll see if I can talk to him this weekend."

Audrey's jaw tensed, but she nodded once. "Now, Jason, you really do need to get going or you will miss that bus."

"Sure thing, Mom." Jason kissed his mother on the cheek. "See you this afternoon."

Audrey offered a ghost of a smile before sending her son off with a wave.

Jason dashed out of the house. A stiff gust caught him full in the face and roared past his ears. He turned his head in order to breathe until it relented. Mounds of dirty snow fed rivulets along the sidewalk as the Chinook wind hastened their melt. He turned the corner and saw the school bus parked at the curb and closing its doors. Jason raised a hand and shouted until the bus lurched to a stop with an anguished grind of gears. The door popped open as Jason ran up to it.

"Thanks, Mr. Bradley," Jason gasped as he climbed aboard.

The wizened old man hunched over the wheel glared at him and grunted. He snapped the doors shut and started away from the curb with a ripping noise from the transmission that other students often referred to as "the Bradley fart."

The bus was nearly empty. Jason was one of the earlier pickups. The sole conversation dropped into a short lull when Jason took his seat. Jason expected it would happen again when the other Harbingers boarded.

Stories of their sexual exploits -- some exaggerated, some only scratching the surface -- had become grist for the Haven High rumor mill. The stories were often told with a sense of unease despite the lure of their prurient content. They fell silent when the Harbingers were in earshot, save for curious and nervous whispering amongst themselves, as if they could feel something was just wrong in Haven.

Jason turned towards the window and tried to tune out everything else so he could think.