Shadows From the Past

For once, when Cassie stands at the edge of the pit, it is because she has willed herself here. The Presence hovers at the edge of her senses, exhibiting a faint wisp of curiosity. "I promised I would do this if you let me choose," says Cassie as she peers into the swirling vortex.

She pauses for its reaction, and it is as the night before. She senses it in the pit, as if still feeling the need to entice her. "I wish you would talk to me," Cassie says in a forlorn voice. "I wish I knew why you want me to do this so much."

She finally receives an answer of a sort. The thin stream of emotion from the Presence is like finely-woven, gossamer-thin threads. She sees a particular thread wind its way past the others, one which gives her a sense of urgency.

Cassie peers downward, and the shapes swirl as if in welcome. "So it is important to you that I do this. I wish you could tell me why and not make me guess."

She considers warning it not to force her to go where it wants but realizes it is a useless gesture. She has no idea where she wants to go herself; she simply wishes to exercise her power and please this Presence so it will continue to leave her nocturnal pursuits to her choice.

Cassie takes a deep breath and steps off the edge. She closes her eyes and steels herself against the cavalcade of emotion. She does not dare open them until she is through. She is sure the shapes are faces of the long -- perhaps ancient -- departed.

The most recent memory she had recovered from her parents plays in her head. As if in response to her thoughts, the emotional weave changes, and she senses satisfaction, but for what? Before she can inquire of it, she is through and floating free in the ether.

Cassie opens her eyes and lets out a contented sigh. She smiles when nothing prods her forward. She feels in control, subject only to the gentle currents of blue-white energy flowing in serene waves, breaking around her like the waters of a placid stream.

She wills herself forward, and this time she sails through the discolored ring. The presence becomes only a vague sensation behind her, receding fast. She wonders where she should go tonight. She wants to know just how corporeal she is perceived to be. Is she truly as solid as she feels, or is her ethereal nature simply masked by the darkness of night?

She pauses as she senses she is below the Haven Mall. She gazes upwards and perceives a vision of a large parking lot near the southwest corner of the mall along Old Main Street. Despite the lateness of the hour, it blazes with mercury-vapor light, and car headlight beams sweep over the lot as they turn from Lincoln Avenue. She discerns a young woman strolling along the street.

Cassie wonders if she should do this. If she does indeed have more the appearance of a ghost, she does not want to frighten someone. Yet she remembers the time she was brought along with Stephanie when she Protected, and she had appeared solid and real enough in the bright headlights to cause the driver to nearly tip over his rig trying to avoid her.

She closes her eyes and decides on her appearance. She does not want to look too fancy. She tries to imagine herself wearing something simple, like jeans and a pullover shirt, but where she has never worn such things in her life, she cannot sufficiently envision them to make them manifest. She instead imagines herself dressed for school.

Cassie suddenly feels the cold night air against her face, and she opens her eyes, squinting as she stands in a circle of cool white light. Her gaze sweeps around her and towards the street, where she spots the young woman.

She is taken aback by the woman's appearance. The woman is younger than Cassie had guessed, likely no older than twenty. Her attire seems inappropriate for a cold winter night. A tight spandex top hugs a modest, pushed-up bosom, baring a flat midriff above very abbreviated leather shorts. Her legs are clad in black fishnets, feet squeezed into five-inch heels. The only concession to the season was a light fur stole draped loosely around her shoulders, and even then it appears more for show than warmth.

The woman turns away and steps off the sidewalk, and Cassie's eyes widen at the exposed crescent moons of her ass around the edges of the shorts. She approaches a car stopped at the light, swaying her hips and clicking her heels against the pavement.

Cassie approaches the street. The woman waves at the driver, who lowers his window slightly. The woman adopts a provocative stance, tilting her hips and placing her hand on one. She leans forward, curving her back and thrusting her bosom towards him. After a brief conversation, the window closes and the young woman turns away. The car drives away when the light changes, and the woman looks down the street.

The shock hits Cassie as she steps onto the street. A prostitute? Here in Haven?

The woman heads back towards the street, her gaze still lingering after the departed car. For a moment she occults a distant street lamp, and Cassie sees no Aura, yet the woman's emotions bear the unmistakable taint of past Dark influence.

The woman turns her gaze towards Cassie and comes to a stop just off the curb, flinching in surprise but not fear. The woman's bright, painted lips curl into a smirk, and she tosses her head back. She brushes a few errant strands of blonde hair out of her eyes, which sweep Cassie from head to toe and back again. "Well, ain't you the cute little princess."

Cassie sighs. Do even her most mundane clothes project privilege? "Um, good evening," she says in a hesitant voice.

The woman folds her arms and tilts her hips. "Listen, you better not be workin' this corner. I got here first."

Cassie's eyes widen. "Oh, no, nothing like that! I would never ... um..."

The woman smirks. "Yeah, go on, make all your silly little assumptions about me. Don't even consider that maybe I like this gig."

Cassie senses nothing but sincerity, yet the taint is still there. Could the Darkness have permanently affected this woman? Or is her Aura somehow being hidden? For once, she wishes she had Debby's ability to see psychic auras.

"So you really like, um, doing this?" Cassie asks.

The woman snorts. "What, you takin' some kinda survey or something? You look too young to be much outta high school."

"No, I was just taking a walk."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Listen, sweet-tits, no one dolled up like that at this hour is just out for a walk." Her eyes sweep Cassie again. "And the little schoolgirl look is really in right now for some stupid perverted reason."

Cassie wonders if she had indeed been guided in her Projection. Could this be a way of telling her just how prevalent the influence of the Darkness was in Haven? It is not like the Harbingers needed any more reasons to defeat it. "Do you really like doing this sort of thing?" Cassie asks in as neutral a voice as she can muster.

The woman rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll play along. Yeah, miss wannabe slice-o'-life reporter gal, I like fucking for money. It pays the rent and then some. And not just a cheap apartment, either. I got me a decent place near Mesa View." She smirks. "Lots of rich folk just down the road are real generous tippers."

Cassie sees a car approach along Old Main. Instead of queuing up at the light, it pulls to the curb and stops. "When did you start doing this?" Cassie asks.

"Three years ago, soon as it was legal to do so. Well, legal in terms of age of consent that is."

"And what were you doing before that?"

"Wow, you're pushin' this to the limit, ain't ya? Fine, I was going to school at Haven High. Worked the Inn on weekends."

Cassie's eyes widen. "Wait, the Li'l Missy Inn?"

"No, the Donald Trump Megahotel. How many fucking Inns do you think this dump has, dumbass? Look, I don't have time to--"

A tap of a car horn interrupts her and startles Cassie. She looks past the woman and sees the driver side window is down.

The young woman smirks. "Sorry, sweet-tits, got a customer. You wanna peddle yourself to the schoolgirl fetish pervs, you do it on some other street."

Cassie stares in no small measure of amazement and shock as the woman struts away, heels clicking on the concrete. The woman thrusts out her ass and bends down to lean against the edge of the door. She crosses her ankles and tilts her hips, and Cassie can discern nothing from their low murmur of clandestine conversation.

Cassie is ready to return to the line, the tension rising on her astral tether. She has an answer to one question, which is how tangible she appears to others. What she still does not know is if it extends to physical contact. For all she knew, the woman could have passed her hand right through Cassie.

She starts towards a darker area so she can disappear without being seen, when the young woman suddenly calls out, "Hey, sweet-tits, wait!"

Cassie stops as the young woman approaches her. "Alright, listen up. This guy wants a threesome and he's willing to pay real generous for it."

Cassie's heart thumps. "But I'm not--"

"Save it. I'm not buyin' it. Now listen and listen good. If we do this, I get eighty percent. Period, end of story."

"I don't--"

"But he wants to see the goods first, so come on."

The woman seizes Cassie's arm, and she is forced to jog alongside the woman to keep up. She now has her answer to her second question, but it only sparks more. How is she managing this? Has she really taken a true physical form? Is this indeed more like teleportation than Projection? Yet Stephanie Projected her teenage self when her physical body was in its thirties.

She is guided to the side of the car. She peers inside, steeling herself for her preconceived notion of a horrible lecher eying her with cold, dispassionate lust. She is taken aback to see a pleasant, middle-aged man giving her a gentle smile.

"So whaddaya think of her?" the woman asks.

Cassie's heart pounds as the man raises a hand, letting out a quavering sigh when he lays it gently against her cheek. "She looks so sweet and innocent," the man says in a soft voice. His hand alights on her shoulder and slides down her arm and side. Cassie's skin flushes and tingles. "And so pretty."

"Don't be so shy," the young woman purrs at the man. "You weren't with me."

The man pauses, and doubt flickers across his face for a moment. Finally he raises his hand to Cassie's bosom and gives one of Cassie's breasts a tentative squeeze.

Cassie swallows, feeling both the urge to bolt and to lean into his touch. She is suddenly conscious of the tightening astral tether. For a moment, she is shocked at how sexualized she has become, reacting with a flush of pleasure and a wetness in her folds at a stranger's touch.

"Oh, that is nice," the man says in a husky voice as he fondles the other one. "So nicely shaped."

"You got a place?" the woman asks. "Cost you extra if you don't."

"Yes, I live alone. I can--"

Cassie backs away. "I-I'm sorry, I can't do this. I ... I have to go."

"Now wait a fucking minute!" the woman cries as Cassie flees towards the intersection. Her hopes of walking unnoticed into a dark area are dashed; she can only hope no one is around the corner.

"You're doing this just to screw with me!" the young woman shouts. "You little bitch!"

Cassie barely rounds the corner when she feels an ethereal yank. She is rushing backwards through the line, the energy around her roaring like rushing wind and water. She rises through the mesa, her mind pummeled with feelings of amazement, satisfaction, amusement, caution, admonishment, worry, and fear. She is both praised and scolded, revered and reviled. She has little time to sort out these emotions before she slams back into her body.