Chapter 52

Diane stared at the gate which stretched across the wide driveway and towered over her. She gazed past it, her eye following the two lines of perfectly manicured juniper trees towards the looming mansion in the distance. She did not feel the same sense of creepy dread as she had at the church. Instead, she felt out of her league, glimpsing into a world upon which she had no business intruding.

Ned stepped up to her and whistled. "Some digs, huh? No wonder the family's squabblin' over it."

Richie peered between the bars of the gate and frowned. "That's bullshit. His family's probably got more money than God. Fighting over shit like this is what they do for fun."

Diane turned away from the gate. "Either way, I just want to get this done. I thought there was an intercom or something around ... here it is."

It was mounted to a post on the left side of the gate. She had to bend over a bit to speak into it, as it was designed for people seated in a car. She pressed the button and cleared her throat. "Um ... uh, hi ... I..."

She trailed off as she heard something whir above her head. She glanced up and saw a security camera turning her way. "Yes, may I help you?" came a bright voice with a trace of a Texas accent over the speaker.

"Um, yes, I hope so. I, uh, I was told you were expecting us. Three teenagers that would visit this--"

"Oh, yes, indeed! Right on time. Please, if y'all would stand in view of the camera for a moment?"

"Yes, of course," Diane said, her voice gushing relief. She glanced at the others, and they stepped over to her. Richie thrust his hands into his pockets, which suited Diane just fine. She had worried he would flip off the camera like she had seen him do to cameras in the mall.

"Sure enough, you gotta be the Good Lord's folks who were to come today."

Richie smirked. "The Good Lord's folks?" he sniggered. "What the f -- hey!"

Ned had nudged him hard with his elbow. "Cool it, old hoss."

Richie rubbed his side. "Shit that elbow of yours is bony. You should register that thing as a lethal weapon or something."

"Is something the matter?" asked the kindly voice.

"No, nothing," Diane said after shooting a glare at Richie. "If you could let us in, please, we won't take too long."

She wished she had asked Cassie just how much she had told the man of what they needed to do. Before she could rack her brains for a suitable excuse, there was a buzz and a click, and the gate slowly swung open.

"There you go, little lady," the voice drawled. "I'll meetcha at the front door."

"Thank you," Diane said, her voice quavering as she walked with the others down the driveway. "I just realized something. Where do we go once we're in the house? We can't just try each room, not a place that big."

"Place this big likely has an office," Ned said. "If this Charles dude did meet with Heather's Mom, he'd prolly do it there. Or if that don't work, start in the entry hall and I figger the visions will show ya which way they went ... no?"

Richie had started shaking his head. He paused, looking vaguely embarrassed, then spoke in a softer voice. "Look, don't go telling everyone, but I sorta play around with this power a bit sometimes. I pick up random things and see what I get. It's like I get only important stuff, or stuff that's sorta continuing the same story as the last one."

"Huh, yeah, that makes sense," Ned said.

"And it explains why the visions have been close together so far," Diane said. "Just like chapters of a story."

"Yeah, otherwise, ya would jus' get visions all the time."

"Which I don't fucking want anyway," Richie declared. "I don't want this to be like some fucking TV set I can't turn off."

"Heh, sorta like telescreens inta the past."

"Huh? Tele-what?"

Ned rolled his eyes. "Ya need ta expand yer literary horizons more, mate. Go pick yerself up a copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four one of these days."

Diane's eyes darted around her. Everything seemed larger than life, dwarfing her by both stature and their place in some unseen but very tangible hierarchy. Even the front door of the mansion was large enough to admit them walking side-by-side with a fourth riding on their shoulders. For a moment she was reminded of the old sci-fi movie Forbidden Planet and the ultra-wide doorways of the Krell, and was almost surprised when the door opened to reveal a very ordinary-sized human being.

The man beamed at them. "Good afternoon and may God bless and keep you," he said in a sunny voice. "Won't you come in, please?"

He stepped back and opened the door wide. Richie snickered but subsided after a glare from Ned. Diane let the others step inside first before following. She wished she could be at ease as much as Ned. While he gawked as much as she did, he seemed almost comfortable in the presence of all this luxury.

Not that the place was at the height of its glory. The lighting was subdued. Most of the windows were shuttered. Despite the bright sunlight outside, the inside was as dark and sepulchral as a mausoleum.

"Is there any particular point of interest I can direct you fine folks to?" said the guard as he closed the door behind him. "Or do you need just a general tour of the place?"

Diane looked at the others, but they appeared to be deferring to her. "Um, could you take us to Mr. Remmer's old office?"

The guard's eyebrows rose. "You really want to go there?"

Diane's heart sank. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, not at all. I was told to give you folks free run of the place. Just ... that particular room tends to be the last place even the family wants to see."

"Why's that?"

"Well, y'see, that's where the poor fellow -- may he rest in peace with the Good Lord -- well, met his end."

Diane's eyes widened, and she shivered. "Oh."

"People say the room has a bad vibe. Oh, not that I ever believed in that hooey. Here, let me show you there."

Ned stepped up to Diane as she followed the man. He leaned in and said in a very low voice, "Now I see why Cassie was upset. Practically made him born-again."

Diane's mouth dropped open. "She what? How? I mean, she didn't appear to him as an angel or something, did she?"

Ned cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, wow," Diane breathed in both shock and -- she had to admit -- admiration.

Richie snickered. Ned elbowed him again and turned it into a low, grunting "fuck you."

Diane looked around and realized she suddenly had no idea where she was. The place seemed like a maze as they took a fourth (fifth?) turn. He finally stopped before a wide, elegant door of dark mahogany. A gold plaque in its middle gleamed, the words "Charles Remmer, Esq." inscribed in flowing black script.

Now Diane truly felt like she was about to step into a tomb.

The guard hesitated, as if he felt the same bad vibe he had only just a moment ago dismissed. "Well, um, this is the place. I suppose it's probably none of my business what you'll be doing here."

He looked expectantly among the three. Diane hoped either Ned or Richie would come up with something, but they remained silent. Diane said nothing simply because she could think of nothing plausible.

The guard offered a small smile. "Anyway, I guess I'll leave you to it. Just come find me when you're done. Just down the hall, left, another left." He hesitated again, then headed away, giving them one last backwards glance.

"I don't like it, I think he's starting to doubt all this," Diane said in a hushed voice when he disappeared around the corner.

"Nah, I think he was jus' fishin'. Cassie put enough of the fear of God in 'im that--"

"You really have to fucking tell me what she did to the guy," Richie said.

"Later. An' yer losin' something there, buddy."

"What? Oh. Thanks."

Diane turned her head in time to see Ned pointing to something on Richie's person, and Richie shoving something further down into his pocket. Diane thought she saw the neck and cap of a small glass bottle before it disappeared into the bulging pocket of Richie's jacket.

"Anyway, let's go," Ned said. "We got a date with the past."

Ned did as Diane hoped he would, he stepped past her and opened the door. For a moment Diane swore she saw a dead body slumped over the desk, but it was just a shadow. The place did not smell musty as she had expected. Everything was clean and neat, the wood surfaces polished.

"So this was where Victor's Vice-Poobah worked," Ned drawled as he looked around.

"Fuck, this place is almost as big as a classroom back at school," Richie said.

Diane stepped towards the desk, her eyes darting over the items arrayed around the workspace. She tilted her head as she saw a spot on the desk which had apparently missed the cleaning regime, a vaguely round, faintly red-black...

"Oh dear!" Diane cried, stumbling back, her hand over her pounding heart.

"Whatsamatter?!" Richie cried, racing up to her.

"I think I know," Ned said. He stepped up to the desk and ran a finger through the stain.

Diane's stomach flipped, as if expecting his finger to come back shining red with blood. "L-let's just get this done and get out of here, okay?" She thrust her hand into her pocket and yanked out the pendant. "Here, Richie, please."

She smacked her hand against his, the pendant squeezed between them, and reality shifted.

Diane was never more grateful to slip into a replay of past life. The drapes were open, milky sunlight silhouetting the man sitting in the chair until her eyes adjusted. Her heart skipped a beat when she discerned Charles Remmer, looking much as she remembered save for his distinct lack of gray hair. He carried himself with a business-like air, though perhaps a little more haughty than she had remembered.

"Miss Donovan," Charles began as he played with a gold-plated comb. Diane caught the name "Remmer" inscribed upon it. He leaned back in his chair. "While I appreciate the return of the comb, I find your interest in why it was found at that location a bit ... unsettling."

"Why is that, Mr. Remmer?" came a voice so close to Diane's side that she nearly jumped. Both she and Richie backed up and saw Penny sitting in a chair facing the other side of the desk. "I haven't accused you of anything."

Charles hands froze for a moment before he set the comb aside. "And is that meant to imply that an accusation is forthcoming?"

"Not at all. I just perceived that maybe you thought one was."

"Then we can consider the matter closed. I thank you for the return of the comb. It is indeed an heirloom, and I was most distressed to lose it." He stood. "The maid can show you--"

Penny had not moved from her seat. "But you still haven't answered my question, Mr. Remmer. Why were you at the cemetery?"

Charles paused, his eyes cloudy. He slowly sat down and folded his hands.

"She's got you fucking nailed to the wall, you asshole," Richie muttered.

Diane felt his fingers tighten around her hand. She had forgotten this was the man behind Melinda's capture by the cult.

"And you do not call that an accusation?" Charles said, though in a less haughty voice.

"I apologize, Mr. Remmer, I tend to be very direct and sometimes it comes out wrong," Penny said. "Let me rephrase it. While you were there, did you see anything unusual?"

Charles tilted his head. "And what could possibly be going on at that location that would be unusual?"

"Because something very unusual did take place there last year. A sixteen-year-old girl was buried there under mysterious circumstances."

Charles flinched slightly. Diane saw it, and whipped her head towards Penny. "She saw it too!" Diane cried.

"Yeah, the fucker was as bad at lying back then as now," said Richie. "Or was. You know what I mean."

"And, no, I am not accusing you of doing anything or knowing anything about it," Penny said, though in a very neutral tone of voice. "Let me explain. I'm a researcher of paranormal and supernatural phenomena--"

One of Charles' lips curled. "A Ghostbuster, in other words."

"Please, Mr. Remmer, kindly don't insult my intelligence."

Charles' smile vanished.

"Owned!" Richie cried.

"I've gathered evidence that some sort of strong supernatural event was centering around Stephanie Fowler right before she died. Thus I cannot help but think the two events are related."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Charles demanded, though Diane thought she heard a slight quaver to his voice. "Why do you think I have anything to do with this?"

"I don't, but I need to track down any leads I have. Please, Mr. Remmer, if you remember anything that you might have seen in that area, or close to the abandoned church--"

Charles twitched.

The corners of Penny's mouth rose slightly. "--I would be very grateful, as I am sure the grieving parents would be as well."

"And I suppose you do not believe the official police reports," Charles said, his voice stiff. "That she ran away from home and died tragically in a barn fire just outside town?"

Penny paused. "Let's just say I believe the reports to be incomplete. Mr. Remmer, it is clear you were at the cemetery close to when Stephanie was laid to rest."

"I never said that!" Charles cried.

"The very first thing you said to me when you laid eyes on the comb was that you had lost it 'nearly a year ago.' Since it was found at the cemetery--"

"So you claim!"

"--then you were there about the time of the funeral or perhaps within the week or two following. Sometimes the dead leave a Presence behind--"

Diane gasped. "She knew about that!"

"--causes manifestations of unusual phenomena which can give clues as to the final moments of--"

Charles shot to his feet. "That's quite enough!"

Penny sat in still silence for a few moments, as if intending to test how much force Charles would bring to bear upon her. She slowly stood and gave him an even look. "I take it this audience is over."

"It should have been over the moment you handed me the comb! It was against my better judgment that I let you come in. I am not sure what came over me, to be honest. But enough is enough."

Diane thought this odd. Why would Charles have doubted why he let her in? Her impression of the man had been that he did nothing unless it made sense.

"Would you at least consider Stephanie's parents for a moment?" Penny said in a somber voice.

Diane's skin tingled for so brief a moment that she did not realize what had happened at first. She looked at Charles, whose eyes shimmered, his mouth opening briefly but nothing coming forth.

"They're as confused as they are devastated by the death of their daughter," Penny continued. "Any sort of information would be a great solace to them. I have a feeling you might be able to provide that solace."

Diane felt the tingling again. She glanced from Charles back to Penny. Was Charles trying to influence her like Victor had? Surely he already knew that she was immune to that power.

"I-I ... There's nothing I could ... S-Stephanie is..." Charles stammered. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds before his face twisted into a scowl. "Kindly leave right now, Miss Donovan, or I will summon the authorities and have you arrested for trespassing. Good day."

Penny hesitated, her penetrating eyes meeting his shimmering ones. Without a word, she turned and headed towards the door.

Diane blinked when Penny faded back into the past and Ned appeared in her stead. "Back so soon?" he said. "Didja get what ya wanted?"

"I'm not sure," Diane said. She summarized what she had seen.

"Huh," said Ned.

"She had his fucking number all right," Richie growled. "She knew what an asshole he was right from the start."

"Yeah, talk 'bout yer intuition. Amazin' that she even got him ta talk ta her at all."

"He did say he wasn't sure why he did it," Diane said. "Which I thought was really strange."

"Likely he jus' had a guilty conscience. It was less than a year after the whole shebang went down. Always got the sense from the dude that he never liked what had happened."

"I really wish I knew what happened after that," Diane said. "I mean, he probably talked to Victor to tell him that Penny was a threat. I thought I felt Charles try to influence her like Victor had, so now he knows she's immune to it if he didn't before."

"That's kinda odd. Ya figger Victor woulda let 'im in on that soon as he knew."

"What's there to figure out?" Richie demanded. "She nailed him to the fucking wall. Didn't take a genius to know the guy is a slimeball."

Diane turned to him. "Richie, is there any way we can know what happened later?"

"Only if you got something that either Charles or Victor was holding."

Diane sighed and looked around the room. Everything had appeared different in the past. Even the drapes had been different. Everything except...

Diane stepped forward, trying to keep her eyes away from the stain. "What about the desk? I'm almost positive it was the exact same desk I just saw. Would Charles touching it be enough?"

Richie considered and shrugged. "Dunno. Sometimes it is, sometimes not."

"An' they might not have had their little meeting here," Ned said.

"But it's worth trying, isn't it?" Diane said. "The worse that could happen is that we don't see anything, right?" She stuffed the pendant in her pocket and took Richie's hand. "Richie, please, touch the desk and see if this will work."

Richie looked mildly annoyed, his eyes flicking over the old stain. He sighed and nodded. Diane squeezed her fingers tight around his hand as he reached out and grasped a corner of the desk with his other hand.

At first Diane did not think anything had happened, as the lighting had not changed. Then she saw the younger Charles sitting in the chair with his hands folded before him on the desk. The drapes had been drawn across the nighttime window, and low lights burned in the room.

A shadow passed on the left, and she nearly flinched when she saw Victor step past her, his hands folded behind his back.

"I don't like this, Victor," Charles said in a quavering voice. "How does she know anything about what happened to Stephanie?"

Victor stood before a bookcase which was no longer there in the present, his eyes perusing the spines of the volumes. "I suspect she is exactly what she claims to be," Victor said in a calm, unperturbed voice. "A paranormal investigator who actually has a talent for the job."

Charles' eyes widened. "You mean ... she has some form of psychic powers?"

"Rudimentary at best." Victor turned towards Charles. "I suspect she does not truly understand she has them. Much like Lydia."

"You had told me she was immune to your influence."

Then why did you try it yourself? Diane thought in confusion.

"I did not think that would extend to granting her additional abilities," Charles continued.

Victor stepped away from the bookcase. "In general, it does not. She is an exception."

Charles shook his head. "It's bad enough things went awry with poor Stephanie ... excuse me, I mean Lydia. I absolutely hate the ruse we had devised for that. Now this woman threatens to reveal the deception and destroy everything we've been doing here!"

"Yeah, ain't that a fucking crying shame," Richie growled.

"Considering it took someone with latent psychic powers to uncover anything, we should congratulate ourselves on a job well done." Victor's eyes narrowed. "And even then she was abetted by clumsiness."

Charles lowered his head. "I am sorry about that, Victor. The moment I knew the comb was missing, I should have looked for it. I was just so afraid someone would see me at the cemetery and then truly suspect I had some part in it."

"Your paranoia is usually an asset to me, but this time it was a liability. I have done some research on Miss Penelope Donovan, likely soon to be Mrs. Penelope Sovert. She has little influence in this town despite what I suspect of her abilities."

"Wait, what did he mean by--?" Diane started.

"Normally I would let her twist in the wind and frustrate herself by finding nothing more of value."

"But she knows about the church!" cried Charles. "What if she shows up there on Halloween? If she's immune to your power, and she finds the trap door, she'll see the ritual for what it is!"

"I have already arranged a contingency. Sometime around six in the evening, a tractor trailer carrying pesticide will have an unfortunate accident and overturn on Old Fairview after the ceremony has begun. The local authorities will cordon off the entire area for hazmat cleanup. Miss Donovan will not be able to get within a half mile of the church."

Charles let out a sigh of relief. "Still, I don't like having to do such elaborate schemes to take care of one person. Do you believe she would lose interest after that and not bother us next year?"

"Normally, I would agree," Victor said. He looked off into the distance. "But my benefactor believes otherwise."

"Your... ? Oh," Charles said in a small voice.

Diane's eyes widened. The Harbingers had no idea how far back his association with the Darkness had gone. Jason had suspected it must have been a long time, for how else would it have accepted Victor's presence?

Charles wrung his hands. "Victor, I've always doubted your association with that--"

"Nevertheless, it is an established one, and you will cease complaining about it," Victor said in a cool voice. "As I was saying, my benefactor believes she could become a greater threat."

"What?!" Diane cried.

"Wow, she fucking had them shaking in their boots, huh?" Richie said with a smirk.

"--a threat as well?!" Charles cried, his eyes agape. "My God, just what can she do that we don't know about?"

Victor hesitated, a very small frown creasing his face for a moment. "It is not forthcoming in that detail. To be honest, it is sometimes more paranoid than even you. I find it easier to acquiesce to it than to reason with it."

Diane's head was spinning. The Darkness believed Penny was some sort of threat? It was almost too surreal. Did she battle against the Darkness and lose, much like Elizabeth had? Was the idea she gave herself willingly to the Darkness just so much disinformation?

"But how can we do anything if she will not respond to your influence?" Charles asked.

Victor headed towards the door. He opened it and turned his head to one side. "You may come in now."

He stepped back, and Jo entered to a gasp from Diane.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Richie said. "Didn't I tell you that fucking bitch was with them from the goddamn start?!"

Jo folded her hands demurely as Victor shut the door behind her. "Yes, Glorious One, what did you wish of your humble servant?" Jo said in a low voice, her eyes downcast.

"You may dispense with those trappings," Victor said in an even voice. "I know of your lack of divine faith in me, and you have no need to maintain the illusion in private."

Jo lifted her head, and a sly gleam replaced her false obsequiousness. "I have a feeling I know what this is about, Victor. My sister is being a pest again, isn't she?"

"To be fair, she was abetted by circumstance. I am charging you with the duty to take care of this permanently. I want her out of Haven by this time next year."

Jo looked pensive. "You do realize that my rudimentary abilities will not work on her when your greater power does not?"

Diane let out a despondent sigh. Now she knew why Melinda was so far under her thumb. It was not just the trigger left by the cult; she had an amount of mind control ability as well.

"Then you will need to resort to more mundane powers of persuasion," Victor said. "However you get it done does not concern me. I simply do not want to trouble myself with it anymore. I have far more important things to do."

"Agreed," said Jo. "I'll take care of it."