Chapter 4

Cassie thought she would wait to tell Ned of her exploits until they could find some time alone, but she was too excited. She told him of a strange dream she had, but her meaningful look had established the context immediately.

He gave a low whistle when she was done. "Wow, that was some ... er, crazy dream." He glanced at Harry, but the man appeared more intent on navigating the icy road than listening to their conversation.

"And I'm not sure what some of it means," Cassie said. "I don't know what I saw when I was moving away from ... from the center."

"Center, yeah, gotcha. An' ya don't know which one of 'em, ah, tunnels the thing picked?"

"It was hard to see. I think it was the far one, but I'm not sure."

"The one that leads ta Jason an' crew's neck o' the woods? Ah ... in yer dream, that is."

Cassie rolled her eyes and glanced at the back of Harry's head in annoyance. She was close to not caring what her driver heard or reported back to her mother. It had been this way ever since Halloween; even the most innocuous cell phone calls seemed to be of interest to him.

"Ned, I'm worried about Jason. With all the troubles the others have, he's the only one we can rely on right now. I-I don't like saying it, but--"

Ned nodded. "I know what ya mean. In a way, I kinda almost wish he had invited me ta Thanksgiving instead of you." One corner of his mouth rose. "Jus' ta keep an eye on him. Yer still the prettier one."

Cassie's lips twitched into a tiny and very brief smile. "I wish someone was with him, too. I feel like he's vulnerable right now."

Ned's eyebrows rose. "Ya don't think he's gonna be like, attacked or sumthing?"

Harry's head turned slightly again.

Cassie shivered as she recalled the sight of the tendrils of inky black snaking their way down the line. "I honestly don't know, but it certainly looked like it was preparing to do something."

Ned frowned. He glanced at Harry and leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I don't get it. It couldn't've gotten that much energy from the Book. An' if it did, why wait all this time ta do anything? An' that line don't come closer than mebbe a quarter mile ta his house if I rememberin' the map right."

Cassie reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "I can't go through the rest of the day not knowing if he's okay. I'm going to try to give him a call."

Jason stepped off the stairs and gazed with uncertain eyes across the dining room and towards the kitchen door. He heard his mother bustling about, her movements interspersed with the metallic clink of cooking implements or repeated rustles and bangs as she fetched things from the cabinets and drawers. He heard a tinny thump as something heavy was placed on the counter, most likely the pan she would use for the turkey.

Just another Thanksgiving so far. How much longer it remained thus depended on what he would see when he entered the kitchen.

The floorboards above his head creaked as his father moved about upstairs, and for a moment Jason felt a burning resentment. His father all but flaunted his involvement with the evil which had taken hold in Haven and yet remained infuriatingly tight-lipped about it. He almost dared the man to try to use his Dark power on his mother.

Jason started to cross the dining room, his heart pounding. Maybe the his father had. Maybe that was what Jason had seen on his mother the night before. That would be something he could fight. With his frustrations having reached the boiling point, he had been ready to have it out with his father for the past week. He was just looking for an excuse.

Yet when he pushed open the door, he saw he would have none that day.

This time it did not flicker into existence and vanish, nor did it have the same sharp, knife-like lines of his father's Aura. It cocooned her in the same liquid inky black he had seen around Penny Sovert and Sandra Gardner. It flowed behind her quickened form like a loosely-fitting cloak, slithering around her torso and hips and trailing down her legs.

Jason's heart lurched, even as crushed with guilt as it was. He thought of all the times he had begged off trying to help Richie save his mother. Maybe if had made the time to really try, he would not be standing here now having no idea what to do.

Tendrils of black snaked from the trailing edges of Audrey's Aura and snapped at the air in his direction, as if in mockery. A second later, Audrey spun around to face him. "There you are! I could've used your help ages ago."

Jason had not noticed anything about the kitchen when he had first entered. Now he forced it to become his world, or it would be too easy to fall into the trap of staring at his mother's eyes until the Aura subsided. The desire to do so made his heart ache, and he briefly felt the urge to cry.

As if in further mockery, the kitchen looked exactly as he expected for an ordinary Thanksgiving morning. An enormous turkey lay upon a shallow pan on the counter. Next to it sat a large bowl, and arranged around it was a city of spice bottles. Several pots steamed upon the stove burners. The oven ticked and banged as it preheated. The air was already warm and thick with tantalizing aromas which in previous years would make Jason tease her mother with cries of "is it done yet?" until she shooed him out of the kitchen in a combination of exasperation and amusement.

He finally looked up at his mother, but no words would come. In the hall, the phone rang. "I'll get it," Jason said in a choked voice and started to turn around.

Audrey stepped forward, brandishing a large spoon. "You will stay right here, young man. Your father will answer it." She lifted her head as the stairs creaked and thudded with Henry's heavy footsteps. "And it better not be the hospital!"

"Audrey, give it a rest, they only call me on my cell phone," Henry called out as the ring was silenced. "Hello?"

"What do you need, Mom?" Jason said.

"First I need you to go to the pantry and get me a bag of flour so I can start making the rolls once I have the turkey in the oven," Audrey said, her Aura surging with her rising tone. "Then I need you to start peeling potatoes. I'd have your father do it after he finishes with the guest room, but he insists on puttering around the basement today of all days."

Jason wanted to believe it was part of some nefarious plan by his father for the final takeover of his family. He tried hard to see his father's patterns in the blackness which surrounded his mother, just for any excuse to confront the man and use him as a convenient vent for his frustration, anger, and fear.

Jason vaguely heard his father's voice from the next room. "Can you wait a minute or two? ... Thanks."

"Did you hear me, Jason?" Audrey cried.

"Yes, Mom, I heard you," Jason said. "I'll get the flour for you now."

Audrey sighed. "I don't mean to be snappish," she said in a more contrite voice. "I just feel ... I feel like I need you close."

Jason did not speculate as to what that could mean. He could not fathom her doing anything remotely like what Richie's mother did. The idea was so unnatural that just the fleeting thought turned his stomach. He looked into his mother's eyes and let the Aura fade a bit, just so he did not have to see its reaction to her statement.

"I'm sorry if that doesn't make any sense to you," said Audrey.

"It's fine, Mom," Jason said quickly, anxious to end the conversation. Peeling potatoes sounded like a good idea; it would keep his focus away from his mother. "I'll go get the flour."

Jason emerged from the kitchen and turned towards the side hall, where a closet too small for any other practical use served as his mother's pantry.

"Jason, " hissed his father in a low voice.

Jason flinched and turned. Henry stood with the phone receiver in his hand, the other cupped over one end. He lifted that hand, pressed a finger to his lips, and raised the phone.

Jason stared and pointed at himself, giving his father a querulous gaze. His father returned it with a curt nod and a more urgent gesture, his eyes cool and hard. "Getting a phone call on Thanksgiving Day is not going to earn points with your mother," Henry whispered when Jason approached.

"It's not like I can control who calls me or when!" Jason hissed back.

"I think you can, but I won't argue the point." He thrust the phone at Jason. "Take this. And make it quick and quiet."

Jason frowned and waited until his father had retreated back up the stairs. "Hello?" he said in a soft and quavering voice.

"Jason? Thank goodness, I thought maybe--!" Cassie's staticky voice gushed forward.

"Shh! I can't talk long or very loud."

"I just want to know if anything is wrong. I ... I Projected myself last night, Jason, right down the line which passes under the mesa. And I saw something that--"

"Cassie, I really can't talk about it now, I--"

Do you really want Jason to be taking any phone calls from his chatty friends right now?

Jason's blood turned to ice. The words had flitted into and out of his mind, like an arctic breeze through a frozen forest. They had not been meant for him, yet he had been allowed to "overhear" them, the Darkness taking cruel advantage of his power to hear it speaking to its minions.

To its minions.

Jason gripped the phone until the plastic creaked and his hand trembled.

"Jason?" Cassie called out in alarm. "What is it?"

Because that is what he is doing right now.

Jason did not know what frightened him more, the fact that it had some form of control over his mother or that its "voice" sounded vastly more calm and confident than he had ever remembered it.

"Jason!" his mother bellowed.

Words became a jumble in his head. He had time for only a single thought, and several collided in his head at once. If his mother had really been taken, he could not alarm her. He forced his voice to remain calm, and coherency suffered instead. "It's my mother, something's happened to her, I don't know how," he babbled as Audrey stormed out of the kitchen. "I'm okay, but I can't--"

"Tell them goodbye, Jason!" Audrey thundered.

Footsteps pounded across the upstairs hall. Maybe if he waited a little longer, his father could--

"NOW!"

"J-Jason?" Cassie said in a tiny, shaky voice.

Jason uttered a rattling sigh. Above him, the footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs. "I'll have to talk to you another time, Cassie, I'm sorry. Goodbye."

He started to hang up the phone. His mother's hand came down and slammed the receiver down with a bang. "No more of this!" Audrey cried. "I've had it with your irresponsible behavior. Just once can you forget your friends and focus on your family? Just once can you do that for me? Please?"

Jason heard his father descend the stairs, but his footsteps had lost their sense of urgency, and he heard nothing in his defense from the man's lips. He looked into his mother's eyes, as pleading as they were angry.

He'll do what you want, the Darkness cooed in a voice like silk. He always does.

Jason swallowed hard. "All right, Mom."

See? He's a good boy. And you're such a good mother for disciplining him.

Audrey shivered and let out a slow, slightly husky sigh. Dark, sultry need briefly clouded her gaze. Tendrils of her Aura slithered in erotic dance between her legs. Nauseated, Jason looked away.

"Get the flour for me, Jason," Audrey said in a calmer voice. "And come back into the kitchen."

"Okay, Mom."

Audrey's lips twitched into a tiny smile before she headed back into the kitchen. Jason stared at her and her trailing Aura until she was gone.

Soft footsteps approached from behind. Jason's hands curled into fists when his father's hand alighted on his shoulder.

"Son," said Henry in a low, earnest voice. "Is there anything you want to tell me about your mother right now?"

Jason clenched his jaw. He let the memory of his father refusing to intervene burn like a torch. He could have done or said something. He could have redeemed himself. He could have given Jason a spark of hope that perhaps he and his father were on the same side.

"No," Jason declared and wrenched his shoulder from his father's grip. He marched off towards the pantry without a backwards glance.

Cassie lowered her shaking hand holding the cell phone. She uttered a despairing sigh and dropped her face into her other hand. "Oh no..."

Ned rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh ... well ... mebbe it's not what we think."

Cassie shook her head and sniffled. "That had to be what I saw last night. It was going after his mother."

"Yeah, but I woulda thought he'd say sumthing like 'it's got her' instead."

"He didn't have time. You heard his mother's voice!"

"Uh, yeah," Ned said, rubbing the ear he had pressed to the other side of the phone. "Coulda heard her in the next county. Crap."

"Goodness, Ned, if we lose Jason, I-I don't know what we would do!"

Ned took her hand. "Now, jus' calm down. He said he was okay."

"For now," Cassie said in a miserable voice.

Ned sighed. "Yeah, I know. Look, we gotta trust that Jason's gonna be all right. He's got his head screwed on straighter 'n anyone in the Harbingers. Hey, an' look at Richie. He's had a mother who's been rubbin' elbows -- and other bits -- with it fer awhile an' he's held out."

Cassie took a deep breath, letting it go with a quavering breath. "I have to help him," she said in a lower voice.

Ned stared. "What? But ya can't, not--"

"I know, not now!" Cassie snapped. "And I can't do it from this line, I have to ... well, never mind what I have to do."

Ned frowned. "Whaddaya mean, never mind? We're talkin' 'bout yer--"

"Is there a problem, Miss Kendall?" Harry asked in a crisp voice.

Ned slapped his hand over his mouth and gave Cassie a guilty look.

"Everything's fine, Harry," Cassie lied. She tried to give Ned a reassuring look, though she felt little of the emotion herself.

"Are you quite sure? It sounded as if you believe someone is in distress."

"It's fine, Harry." She squeezed Ned's hand and gazed into his eyes. "We've got a Thanksgiving dinner to go to."

Cassie was looking for some reassurance in that gaze. Ned offered only what he could: a small smile and wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned into him as much as the seatbelt would allow. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. "I hope he'll be all right," she whispered.

Richie uttered an annoyed sigh as he tossed the comic book over the side of his bed and snatched up the next one in the pile. He glanced at the clock and pretended not to be worried about his mother driving on the icy roads. When he heard the garage door rumble, he did not allow himself more than a second or two of relief, channeling his pent-up emotional energy into renewed anger instead. He whipped the comic to the next page, nearly tearing it.

He forced his eyes to focus on the comic until nothing but its color-faded panels filled his head, yet as crisp as the lettering remained, he barely comprehended what he was reading. He lifted the comic closer to his face as he heard his mother enter the house.

"Richie?" Sandra called. "Where the hell are you?"

"In my room!" Richie bellowed without lifting his eyes from the page. He heard his mother remove her coat, then heard another slide of cloth. His fingers curled tighter, crinkling the edges of the comic.

"Well, get down here!"

"Why? Did I miss a freakin' spot or something?"

"Don't be a wiseass, Richie. Get down here and meet--"

"I'm busy!" Richie yelled. He turned over on his side, facing away from the door.

"So help me, if I have to come up there, you'll be sorry!"

Richie cringed. For so many months he had wanted his real mother back, and this was what it would have sounded like. He could almost make himself believe it had come to pass. He reminded himself it was fake, just a cheap imitation; the Darkness may have well hired an impersonator.

It can be real if you want it to be.

Richie ground his teeth and snapped the comic to the next page. His heart pounded with the fear to which he did not want to admit. More lies. It had to be. It could not be anything else, the Darkness being what it was.

I could do it. I could give you your mother back. That's all you ever wanted.

"Shut up," Richie hissed. "Just shut the fuck up."

But you'd have to do something for me first.

Like fucking HELL I will! Richie blasted back in his head.

The Darkness fell silent. In its wake, the stairs creaked. Richie would have welcomed a fight with his mother -- even this fake one -- as a means to vent his anger and frustration. The footfalls, however, were far too slow and light to belong to Sandra.

He contemplated slamming the door shut before she got to the top of the stairs. Instead, he closed his eyes and silently cursed himself. What was he so worried about? This was old Crater Face. Her personality was as ugly as her body. She was nearly as bad as he could be in terms of sarcasm and temper. He was sure they would have killed each other if his family had not moved away.

Moreover, Richie let no girl intimidate him. Even when Terri Hollis had outright threatened to enslave him the night of Halloween, he had refused to so much as bat an eye. This should be no different.

The footsteps stopped at the threshold of his room. "Hello, Richie. It's been awhile."

Richie tensed. The voice was unmistakable despite having been reshaped by puberty and ten years of time. Yet it sounded far softer and subdued than he would have ever guessed she was capable of producing unless she was sedated.

"Not even going to say hello back?" the voice said with a trace of amusement.

Richie considered saying "no" and leaving it at that, but the syllable would not make it out of his head. He finally sighed and turned over. "Yeah, fine, hi. Try not to ugly-up the room too--"

The words froze in his head, and all he could do was stare.

Cathy Gardner giggled, her lips curling into a small smile from a round, fair face, her smooth cheeks glowing in a shaft of mid-morning sunlight which escaped the blinds. Eyes of soft blue gazed at him from under a fall of wavy, honey-brown hair. She leaned her slim, lithe body against the door frame, crossing her ankles, her shapely legs wrapped in skin-tight jeans. As she shifted position, the beam of sunlight played across the swells of her breasts, their brief bounce drawing attention to the shadows of two raised points against her fuzzy sweater.

"I'll try not to, ah, ugly-up the place too much," she said with a grin.

Richie tried to think of something nice, witty, or smartass to say, and failed at all three. "Shit, what the hell happened to you?"

Cathy smirked. "I grew up. Looks like you have, too, though you're still the same in some ways."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just like that. You always were ... well ... headstrong."

Richie frowned. "Stop being nice."

Cathy giggled. "Okay, fine, you're still a wiseass."

"You called me lot worse than that."

Cathy paused, then nodded slowly. Her eyes darted to the side for a moment. "Maybe I ... maybe I'd rather be nice this time around."

The hesitation and uncertainty in her voice managed to break the spell long enough for Richie to finally notice it. He had been so taken by her appearance that it had vanished from his perception. Now he saw the swirling, writhing black, a thin layer wrapped about her like a camisole, as if trying to make itself look sexy.

It wouldn't stick. She would move, and his baser instincts would draw his attention to her bouncy boobs, or her curved hips, or her long legs. It faded in and out, like a film negative of the sun peeking in and out from behind racing clouds.

"So how about it, Richie?" Cathy said. "You up to getting to know each other better while I'm here?"

"Mom put you up to this," Richie declared.

Cathy paused again. "She invited me over, yes," she said in a soft voice.

"I don't mean that! I mean she forced you to do this."

Cathy shook her head. "Why would she need to do that? I'm looking forward to this."

Richie narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth, and he made the Aura reappear. It slithered around her in perverse excitement. He sensed the Darkness' amusement as his cock twitched, having swollen to a partial erection under his clothes. He fought the sexual imagery which sprang into his mind, trying to see the Aura and not her.

Cathy shifted her weight, slowly swinging her hips to one side, her breasts jiggling, and the Aura faded out again. "You really have grown up, Richie," she said in a soft voice. "Not just physically. You sound a lot more confident and--"

"You're not even wearing a bra, are you?" Richie demanded.

Cathy hesitated, her eyes shimmering for a moment, some of her smile fading. She tugged her sweater, her nipples tenting the taut fabric, and slid her hands slowly up her sides. "No, I'm not," she said in a low voice. "I thought you might like that."

Richie wanted to shout that he hated it, that he hated her, and that she was still ugly. This time the Aura would not come back for him. He looked into her face and thought he saw it there, the Dark power like a shadow falling over her eyes.

Cathy lowered her hands and remained still for another few seconds, as if in silent struggle against her captor. Richie simply watched, part of him wanting to help, part of him wanting to see her fall. The former won out, and he jumped out of bed. "You don't want to do this, Cathy. You don't want to fucking do this."

Cathy blinked a few times and let out a slow, quavering sigh. "I ... it just ... it just feels good. I mean ... I wasn't sure at first when Aunt Sandra talked to me but..."

"She's controlling you! She fucked with your head."

Cathy stared at Richie with wide, glistening eyes.

"Since when did you want to come to this fucking armpit of America for Thanksgiving, huh?"

"Since ... since I realized I wanted to see you again."

Richie swallowed. His cock was rock hard. He could not tell if it were simply his own perverted lust or the influence of the Darkness. "No you didn't," he said in a weaker voice.

"I grew up, Richie," Cathy said in a husky voice. "I got pretty. Pretty and sexy."

"Stop it," Richie hissed.

"You grew up, too."

Richie backed up. "I said, stop it."

"Aunt Sandra told me how you've grown up. It ... it gave me really sexy dreams last night."

Richie's legs bumped against the side of the bed. He fell back, bouncing once before he gripped the edge of the mattress. "Shit. This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair!" he cried, the last word growled through clenched teeth and punctuated with his fist against the mattress.

"I don't understand why you're upset."

Richie looked up into her eyes again. Whatever had remained of the real Cathy, he could no longer see it, and his perception of the Aura had been chased away again. Maybe he didn't want to see it anyway. He used to think that about Sandra, that he could make it go away and pretend to have a normal mother. That was until they started having sex.

He wanted to scream at himself that this was no different. Cathy was his cousin. It was still wrong. Yet his cock ached and twitched with his pounding heart. Faintly, he heard a loud bang of pots and his mother swearing. His heart lurched as it reminded him of life before the House, before he knew about the Darkness, before his mother had fallen so far.

You can have it all back again.

You're LYING, Richie mentally bellowed back. You HAVE to be.

"Richie," Cathy said softly, her hands rising along her sides.

"What the hell is it?" Richie growled.

"Do you want to see my breasts?"

Richie clenched his teeth. The word sat right there in his head, big as life as if written in some impossibly huge font. It refused to come to his lips.

Of course you can't say no, Richie, the Darkness cooed. You know what you like.

Cathy did not wait for an answer. She slid her hands down to her waist and slowly peeled the sweater up. Underneath, a tight blouse stretched across her jiggling boobs, the buttons stretched so hard that one tore through its eye-hole as the sweater was raised over her head. Richie stared at the curve of exposed cleavage, watching the nipples form two raised knobs against the already tortured fabric.

You won't give me my mother back! Richie mentally screamed. You don't give ANYONE back!

Perhaps I'm different now. Perhaps I don't need Sandra as much anymore. Perhaps I realize I can't enslave you.

More lies. He repeated that as a mantra in his head, at least until Cathy's blouse slid from her body to a crumpled heap upon the floor. Her breasts were big and beautiful, the nipples stiff and prominent. They swelled with each intake of her quickened breath, quivering in a delightful ripple across the soft, plump flesh when a shiver passed through her body.

I understand, Richie. You have to be in control.

You don't know jack SHIT about me, Richie retorted, but the conviction was weak.

Cathy lifted her hands to her breasts and stepped forward. She fondled them slowly, rubbing her fingers across the erect nipples, uttering tiny, husky sighs. She paused and trembled, her eyes growing half-lidded and distant, as if clinging to one last thread of resistance. A second later, the thread snapped, and she dropped to her knees.

"I'll do anything you want, Richie," Cathy breathed, her eyes wide, her hips writhing. "When I had that dream about you ... you were ... you were commanding me. I couldn't resist obeying you. I-I don't think I can now."

Take her, Richie, the Darkness purred. Play with her. Do what you want with her.

I don't want a slave, came Richie's weak and desperate thought in response.

Then just enjoy her. And let your mother be a mother today.

Richie would have retorted that a real mother would not let her son have sex with his cousin, but that had triggered another far less noble thought, and Cathy responded. She crawled forward and nudged Richie's legs apart. She tugged down his zipper and eased his straining cock out of his briefs, the head already damp.

After all, Richie, the Darkness sang in his head. It was your dear mother who took the time to prepare her for you. Even she wants you to have some fun.

Cathy drew herself up and leaned forward, squeezing his stiff cock between her warm and supple mounds. Richie's fingers curled hard into the mattress, his hips thrusting in time to her movements. He clenched his teeth as a distant voice shouted for him to stop, but he only shuddered in a feeble, aborted attempt.

As if responding to his moment of hesitation, Cathy settled back on her feet and took him into her mouth, head bobbing hard and fast, her fingers working his belt loose. Richie moaned and helped her, his hands fumbling in his haste. She paused long enough to yank off his jeans and briefs, then wrapped lips and tongue around him once more, her fingers teasing and fondling his balls.

Richie wanted to know what that faint voice had been. Had the other Harbingers managed to reach him? Or had the Darkness finally decided to go back to its taunting and trickery that he remembered?

The question was soon washed away in the rising tide of pleasure.

Diane shivered as she stepped out of the taxi, only partially in response to the cold. As her gaze swept up the front of the Sovert house, she realized this would be the first time she had come to the house since Halloween. She slammed the taxi door shut and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had worn a heavier coat. Then again, that would likely have little effect on her fear.

She flinched when the taxi roared away, and she glanced at it with a forlorn sigh. This excursion would use up all her allowance, but she wanted the maximum amount of time she could spend with Heather.

If she were allowed any at all.

She stared at the house for another minute, glancing once more down the road where the taxi had gone. She feared this was for nothing, that Penny would never let her see Heather. She heard only bits and pieces of what home life was like, and largely through Melinda, who had a reputation for blowing up her troubles into more than they were.

Diane took a slow, deep breath and jogged up to the front door. She thumbed the doorbell, her heart racing.

She braced herself, but against what she was not sure. It dawned on her only then how unprepared she was. She had not had time to gain any more energy after trying to give it all to Heather, and now when she tried to tap the link, she felt an odd sensation, like pressing her hand into a rubber wall.

Chapter 5 »