Chapter 16

"What the hell is your problem tonight?"

Richie poked a few pieces of Thanksgiving leftovers around his plate, his head propped up with his arm. "Can the act, Mom," he said in a tired voice.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Richie frowned and looked up. The Aura around Sandra seethed. "It's back. You don't have to pretend like you're my mother anymore. We had our fun, so now it's back to the same old shit. Might as well tell me how you want me to fuck you tonight."

Sandra's eyes widened slightly, and Richie almost dared to believe the gesture was real. He was tired of letting himself be fooled. He didn't believe a word anyone outside the Harbingers told him without proof, so why should this be any different?

As if to prove Richie's assertions, Sandra's eyes turned sultry, and her lips curled into a small smile. "There's always time for that. But you've been acting like you have a stick up your ass all evening."

Richie swirled his fork in a pool of congealing gravy. His mother's complaint did not have the same force behind it when spoken in a husky voice. Not that it would have mattered; he could think of nothing other than his earlier act of cowardice at the pay phone.

It had dawned on him shortly afterward that he had no idea what he had wanted Jason to do. Perhaps he really had expected Jason to say one day, "I've found your father. He'll be home next Tuesday." That's what he had wanted, a prepackaged solution. He did not want it to come "some assembly required."

"Well?" Sandra demanded.

Richie's fork clattered to the plate. "Shit, you're just not gonna leave it alone, are you?"

"Don't take that tone with me."

"Oh, yeah, I guess this is where I'm supposed to say 'I'll take any damn tone I want.' Sorry, not gonna follow this sorry excuse for a script. Just stop it. You can't be my mother and that Dark bitch's minion at the same time. Pick one and fucking stick to it."

Sandra's eyes shimmered for a moment, and Richie willed himself into standing his ground. She averted her eyes long enough to take a few quick bites of her dinner. "It's not that simple," she said in a low voice.

"Like fucking hell it's not."

Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing. "Don't you get it? I'm whatever it wants me to be. I can't change on your whim."

Richie was struck into silence. He believed someone with far more brains than he, like Jason or Cassie, could think of a dozen ways to interpret that, yet his meager senses could think of only one.

She was the Darkness' slave and nothing more. She had no fight left in her. He was talking to little more than a puppet. His earlier failure felt like lead bricks lining his shoulders. Panic and despair spawned the ridiculous notion that, had he talked to his father earlier instead of staying silent like an idiot, he would have somehow saved her from this final fall.

"Fine," Richie declared. "Then whoever the hell you are, what's upsetting me is none of your fucking business."

Richie had wanted to tell her. If he thought it could have hurt her somehow, he would have said it. It wasn't really hurting his mother, as that woman was gone. She was just a vessel. He tried to convince himself of that.

"You know you can't hide anything, Richie," Sandra said in a low voice.

Richie stared as her mother's Aura surged and swirled.

"Mistress will eventually know everything you do. Just like she knows everything I do."

Richie swallowed. Sandra was only confirming what he had already settled in his mind, but he could not rid himself of the small hope he had been wrong. He felt stupid for a false sentiment which remained no matter how much he fussed or cursed.

"Mistress will know all your secrets, Richie," Sandra said in a husky voice. "It's only a matter of time."

Richie forced down his fear and ignored the lingering compulsion to feel any sort of compassion towards his mother. The familiar and welcome anger which he found to be a convenient anchor grew more elusive each time he sought it.

He slammed his fist on the table, splashing soda from his glass beside his plate. "I'm taking my secrets to the fucking grave. You want 'em? You follow me there."

"So are you going to take Cathy there with you?"

Richie hesitated at the sudden twist in the conversation. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I have to take her back to Randall tomorrow."

Richie was silent for a moment. He wanted to insist he didn't give a rat's ass what happened to her. "I thought you said you couldn't do that."

"She's going to remember what you did to her."

"She fucking enjoyed it!" Richie bellowed, but he did not believe his own words.

Sandra's eyes shimmered. "I don't want to see her hurt," she said in a quavering voice.

"You don't fucking mean that."

"I didn't want to involve her, but now..."

Richie clenched his teeth and his hands. He wanted to punch his mother in the face, for it would not be her he would hurt. He could not bring himself to do it; he could not see past the facade. "She's at the Inn," he said tonelessly. "What the hell more do you want?"

I'm supposed to be the asshole, he thought. I'm supposed to throw her to the wolves to save myself. I have no conscience.

"Mistress does not want her," said Sandra. "Mistress wants to let her go, since she has served her purpose."

"No, she didn't! She didn't get at me! My ... I-I stopped it. Myself, alone!"

Sandra ignored the comment, and the implication was lost to Richie for the moment. "She'll feel so horrible when she realizes what she did with her own cousin."

"Why the fuck should I care?!" Richie roared. "Did I give a shit when I enslaved a teacher? A freaking teacher! I didn't keep her just so she wouldn't feel so fucking bad about it. I let her go! I didn't give a flying fuck what she felt, so why would I now?!"

Richie did not bother mentioning he had used a spell from the Book to make her forget her slavish devotion, and he had to hope the Darkness had not learned of it by other means. The gambit was smashed anyway with Sandra's next statement, delivered with the same maddening calm induced by the vortex of writhing Dark energy in her Aura. "I really hope she doesn't go the way of that poor girl Ann Went, the one who committed suicide."

Richie bolted from his chair, his legs tensing as if he were about to flee. Instead, his hands remained clamped to the edge of the table, as if stopping him from running away.

He waited for the inevitable suggestion that Sandra bring Cathy back home. She looked at him with slightly shimmering eyes, no doubt an induced effect, yet effective. It filled his head with images of Cathy laid out at a funeral or being laid to rest in a graveyard like the girl they had once thought was Stephanie.

She was going to force him to be the one to make the suggestion. Hatred rose like bile in his throat. Perhaps this was for the better. He could not fathom having sex with his mother anymore, not after knowing how far she had fallen.

He waited a little longer, hoping his father's voice would come forward and decry him for the foolishness of his reasoning. Nothing came to him except more morbid memories of the visions he had endured at the graves.

"Fine," Richie said through clenched teeth. "Bring the little bitch over here instead."

"I don't think that will be enough," said Sandra after a moment's pause.

"All right!" Richie shouted, throwing his arms to either side. "She can be my fucking slave, okay?!"

Sandra let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. Richie refused to believe any emotion she expressed. "That's really for the best, Richie, all things considered."

"But not right away."

Sandra paused. "What?"

"You heard me. She'll be my slave, but not right away."

"You can't do that."

"Why the fuck not? So long as she's here and the Dark shit is making her all horny and happy, she won't be looking to jump in front of the next bus."

"That's not a nice way to put it," Sandra said in an irritated voice.

"Whatever. If she's gonna be doin' this permanently, I wanna know what I'm getting."

"Mistress can provide her with whatever--"

Richie snorted. "You think I'm going to believe that sack of shit? I can fucking throw that Inn further than I would trust it. No, you want this done, you do it my way. My way or the highway back to Randall."

Richie was not sure what he had hoped to gain. Perhaps he was pinning his hopes on Jason finding something in the journal. If Jason were half as obsessed with it as he had been about finding that phone number, he was guaranteed success.

Jason always pulled through. Always. All Richie had to do was stall long enough to make it happen, and he had his father.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, where his fingers curled around the wadded post-it note. His heart pounded. "Don't worry," Richie said, forcing his voice to as casual a cadence as he could muster. "If she can suck and fuck as good as she did over Thanksgiving, I'll take her." He smirked, though his lips quivered. "Maybe I'll ask for a collar for her for Christmas."

Sandra paused, her Aura writhing as if in debate. Finally, Sandra nodded slowly. "All right, fine. I'll go get her tomorrow morning. We can go to church together."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Oh, joy."

Sandra slowly smiled and stood. She drew in a slow, deep breath, swelling her plump breasts against her shirt. She swayed her hips in her skin-tight jeans as she leaned forward. "Now, about that fuck with your mother you mentioned..." She said in a husky voice.

Richie recoiled. "Sorry, got things to do, Mom," he said as he turned away.

"But, Richie, my pussy--"

"Some other time!" Richie shouted as he fled, cursing the swell of his cock in his jeans.

Audrey had remained silent through much of dinner, watching her husband with wary eyes. He engaged in idle conversation with Jason, who chatted back in a tone that, if not exactly friendly, was no longer as hostile as their relationship had been for the past few months. She witnessed what seemed to be a rapprochement which she had hoped would happen for so long, yet now it made her uneasy.

Her gaze shifted to her son and lingered, tracing the contours of his arms and his torso. She imagined him without the shirt and let out a small husky sigh as she saw his smooth, youthful skin in her mind. She shuddered and averted her eyes, contemplating another bite of her dinner as they continued to ignore her, as if she were just another fixture.

After tomorrow, that will all change.

Audrey let out another slow sigh, grateful for the voice which was the only thing which soothed her. Her remaining doubts about this new course were ebbing away, consumed by the pleasure of the revelation that she not only knew what was best for her son, but that she had the means now to see it happen.

She squeezed her thighs together and enjoyed the warm buzz of sensual delight in her pussy. She looked up when Jason excused himself to get more juice from the kitchen. She watched him walk past, her gaze roaming about his hips, flicking down to his crotch before it drifted out of sight. Wet warmth flooded her pussy, and the buzz became an ache of need. She would again need some time to herself after dinner in the sewing room.

She had spent the day convincing herself this was right. Her "desire" for her own son was harmless. She would never need to follow through. She could entertain her "perverted" thoughts and express them in nothing more than self-pleasuring. She could keep the line separate between her fantasies and reality.

And yet, what harm would come from bridging one to the other, especially when you would both enjoy it?

Audrey shivered. She could almost believe that in her most lustful moments. She could see Jason's cock easing into her willing pussy, her body rocking to his gentle and loving thrusts. It would indeed be the ultimate expression of her love for her son. She could almost see it. Almost.

Give it time. No need to rush.

Audrey looked up and caught Henry staring at her, his brow furrowed. He scrutinized her as if he had just seen her do something bad. She gave him a small frown in return. She hated it when he stared at her like that. Little wonder she never felt the urge to relieve her sexual desires with him anymore.

Jason passed as he returned from the kitchen, and he briefly stared at her as well. He always appeared to look all around her and never right at her. Now he seemed suddenly angry. Audrey was tired of that, too. She was going to insist on a far better attitude in the near future.

Oh, yes, you will have everything you could want very soon.

Jason's head whipped towards her the moment the words slid into her head. Audrey sighed and declared, "Is there a reason you're looking at me as if I had just canceled Christmas, young man?"

Jason paused and shook his head. "No, Mom, sorry. Just thinking about something else."

"What would that be?"

"Um ... it's kind of private."

"'Private' is not a magic word intended to cover up things which would get you in trouble if I found out."

Jason sighed. "It's about school, Mom. Just ... worried about exams and all that."

"Especially if you hold him to getting a job," Henry commented without looking up from his meal.

"Don't you start again, I'll have none of it," Audrey declared. "I've already made my decision and there's no point in trying to change my mind. Jason, if you've done well all year, you'll do fine like you always do. If that's what's really on your mind."

Jason did not respond. He turned his attention back to his plate, but did little more than poke the pieces around.

Audrey sighed. "Very well." She wiped her lips with the napkin and stood up. "Henry, please clean up when you're done and get the dishwasher started. I have some work to do in the sewing room."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Again? We can't possibly have that many clothes with holes in them."

"Nevertheless, I have work I need to do and I do not want to be disturbed."

Audrey marched out of the dining room and tried not to rush, but desire had become a steamy heat in her pussy. She felt the moisture squishing in her folds as her thighs slid past each other. Two bumps rose on her blouse, her nipples tingling with each jiggle of her breasts.

She closed the door behind her and flicked the lock on the doorknob. With a husky sigh she sat down in the chair and swiveled it away from the sewing table, grabbing the waist of her sweatpants. She yanked them down her legs, squirming as her damp panties remained plastered to her sensitized folds.

She uttered a soft moan as she peeled her panties away from her pussy, shivering as she caught the heady scent of her arousal. She was amazed that only a few days before she was still embarrassed and hesitant about her own needs. She had Debby Radson to thank for helping her shed the last of her inhibitions. Talking about Jason had forced her to confront her feelings for him, and the hour she spent masturbating after Debby had left had convinced her just how much she had worried over nothing.

Audrey kicked the panties from around her ankles and spread her legs, uttering a quick sigh of pleasure as her fingers sank into her wet slit. She closed her eyes and leaned back, fingers swirling around her clit in alternating soft and firm strokes. Her pleasure rose like the incoming tide, surging in and pulling out, inundating her senses more each time. She imagined her son's fingers teasing her pussy in the same manner, making her beg for more with each rise and retreat.

She felt giddy and nearly giggled. She had not felt this much sexual freedom since she first started dating Henry. He was the first boy with whom she had had any sort of serious intimacy, and she had gone a little crazy with it when she had realized how much she enjoyed it.

Audrey eased two fingers past her slick labia, imagining Jason's cock sinking slowly into her willing depths. She unbuttoned her blouse in a frenzy and yanked one of the cups of her bra up until her breast spilled out. She pinched her nipple and tugged, shuddering as pleasure flooded her pussy. In her mind, Jason was doing it instead in the same way Henry used to do that drove her wild with desire.

Imagery romped through her head with abandon. Her cheeks glowed as she saw herself atop her son, her hips bobbing up and down in quick thrusts. She bit her lip and tried to think of something else, as if she had just gone beyond a line which she dare not cross.

She pumped her fingers harder, willing her pleasure to consummate so she could leave behind her disturbing thoughts. She would not rise further, as if her fingers had suddenly become inadequate for the task. She glanced at the closet next to the sewing table and let out a quavering sigh.

Heart pounding, she stood and opened it, peering at a wooden box on the top shelf. She shuddered as she stared at it, her fingers still lightly stroking her clit in her still-aching pussy. She dragged the box forward with her free hand, then lowered it to the floor, crouching beside it.

She had found it at the bottom of the bedroom closet while Jason had been out and Henry had been preoccupied with chores. She was not sure what had possessed her to clean it and tuck it into the closet here.

She lifted the lid with a trembling hand and picked up the long, purple dildo inside. She swallowed as she stared at the shaft while the Jason of her mind's eye stripped himself of his jeans and briefs so she could see the prize they hid.

Audrey glanced towards the door. She knelt on the floor, spreading her knees, her breath becoming a ragged pant as her pussy ached for attention. She leaned forward and positioned the dildo under her, its head nestled in her glistening folds. She closed her eyes and saw her hips bobbing upon Jason's cock. She gasped and tried to push it away, but it surged back stronger. Her hand trembled, the tip of the dildo lightly flicking her clit until she shivered with increasing desire.

Audrey held her breath as she eased her hips down. "Oh ... my..." she gasped as the dildo slid slowly inside her with soft, wet sounds. She shuddered as it filled her tunnel, the first time anything had done so in what seemed an eternity. "Uhng ... oh God..." she breathed as she buried it inside her, body trembling, moisture oozing from around the shaft and dripping onto her fingers.

She swallowed and grasped the dildo by the base as she slowly lifted her hips. Audrey let out her breath as a ragged sigh, pleasure unlike anything she could do with her fingers spreading like a warm flood. She felt as if it were all new to her again, as if her pussy had never felt the penetration of a man's cock.

She started to hump the dildo, and now the vision of Jason's hard cock would not leave her. If some part of her still felt the icy chill as the Darkness twined more of its tendrils around her mind, it was drowned in the flood of sensation and lust. She panted as she fell into a rhythm. Memories of doing this for Henry when they were first married devolved into more thoughts of Jason. She would so love to do this for him, to give him pleasure as well as satisfy her own long-denied need.

Audrey threw her head back as her pussy throbbed, a small burst of fluid squirting from around the shaft and running down her fingers. She held back the cry that wanted to erupt from her throat at the sweet orgasmic delight, finally emerging as several explosive sighs. She twisted the dildo inside her and was rewarded with another brief surge of climax and a smaller squirt of hot moisture.

Panting hard, she raised her hips and eased the dildo from her pussy, her hips jerking as a few lingering throbs were sparked by the head brushing her clit. She settled back on her feet and uttered a long sigh of relief as well as joy, able to do little else until her climax had faded and she eased down from her orgasmic high.

Audrey raised the wet dildo and gave it a forlorn look. She wondered how long it would be before she would need the real thing. Her lips twitched into a tiny smile. Would it be all that bad if she did?

Melinda ran into her room and slammed the door behind her, tensed as she expected to hear her mother's footsteps on the stairs coming to admonish her for doing something she and her sister were told many times not to do. She leaned her back against the door and dug her heels into the carpet with the crazy notion that she could bar her mother from entry. Instead, the rest of the house remained as silent and subdued as dinner had been that night.

Melinda frowned as she stepped away from the door and threw herself onto the bed. She eyed the sweater draped over the foot of the bed and contemplated donning it. She was not cold, but it would take her further away from being nude.

She knew exactly what Heather would say to their mother's brooding silence over dinner: their mother was upset at what happened, pained at what she was forced to do to prevent worse horrors from befalling her children.

"Bullshit," Melinda muttered as she rolled over to the side away from the door and fished under the bed. Melinda believed her mother was just in a quandary over how to keep hiding this from her father. He had been left bewildered through much of the meal as to why everyone seemed upset.

Yet he still did not question Heather's absence.

She muttered a curse before her hand finally found backpack. She pulled it out and hauled it onto the bed. She slipped her arms through the straps and stood to test its weight. She nearly tipped over, and when she hunched her shoulders forward, she winced as the straps pulled tight against her upper arms.

"Shit," she declared as she dumped the backpack onto the bed. She had not used it since her last year in grammar school, but she did not think she would have outgrown it in so short a time. She sighed as she stared at it, still wondering what she was thinking.

Better than freaking out, Melinda thought. After the sexual euphoria had worn off in the wake of Aunt Jo, she had almost burst into tears. Could she expect more of their family to be part of everything that was bad in Haven?

Melinda gasped when she heard a soft knock at her door. She scrambled to shove the backpack under the bed, her heart pounding. She froze when her visitor spoke. "Melinda, you have a minute?"

Melinda stared at the door. "Daddy? I ... um ... just a minute." She pushed the backpack under the bed before flipping herself back onto the mattress. The bed was still bouncing from the impact when she called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and David Sovert stepped inside. He paused just past the threshold, as if distracted, and glanced at Heather's bed before turning his soft gaze towards his younger daughter. "Hi, princess. Am I interrupting anything?"