 
©2005 by Amy J. Webb All Rights Reserved No portion of this book may be reproduced— mechanically, electronically, or by any other means, including photocopying—without written permission of the author.

ISBN 978-1-4116-3353-7

The Devil's Deal by Amy J. Webb

5

Acknowledgements

There are so many people that I need to thank for helping me see this dream to fruition. First off, I have to thank the readers of the original Devil's Deal, who provided me with critique and gentle criticism necessary to continue on my path toward success. The people who read my works in their earliest stages are some of the most amazing people you'll ever meet and I continue to be awed at the writing talent I see every day, in one-shots and novels lovingly crafted by people who enjoy the same things that I do. I would like to thank several people who have helped me edit, read through portions of the text and given me virtual hugs when things haven't gone exactly as planned, and because there are so many, I might leave someone out, but trust that it's unintentional: Kaytie, Amie, Catherine, Sharon, Kikei, Curia Regis, Twinkle, Jasmine, Sam, Claudia, Regina and everyone on my LJ-friends list!

Special thanks go to the cover artist for The Devil's Deal. Her name is Katherine Crenshaw, and a more talented artist would be hard to find indeed. Please, take a minute and visit her website, www.oshinchan.com and take a look at the wonderful treasures she has there. Also a fan of my series, I knew from the moment I first saw her work that I wanted her art to grace the front cover of book one. To my high school English teacher, Tim Humphrey, I say, thanks for putting up with me, even though I hated Ethan Frome, believe that the ERA really does hurt a pitcher's credibility and that yes, sometimes I was acting like a smartass just to annoy you. Despite what it looked like at the time, I had and continue to have the deepest respect for you. It's your teaching that helped me fall in love with writing in the first place.

Finally, I'd like to thank you, the reader, for buying this book. Proceeds from the sale of this book will go in part to the Autism Society of America, which helps to educate people about autism spectrum disorders and promotes research into this enigmatic disorder.

7

Prologue September 21, 1990

Roger Blake was a man who liked to be on top of things.

One of the most powerful wizards in the world, a member of the Department of Magical Defense and an upstanding contributor to the Loyalist Movement, Blake was shrewd, clever and a force to be reckoned with. He could count the number of times he had misread a situation on one finger, and on that finger, he wore his fiancée's engagement ring as a reminder to be ever vigilant, ever careful, ever watchful and suspicious of everything. After all, anyone could be the enemy... even your best friend.

The day Corinna had died had been the worst day of his entire life. Until today, of course. Sunny, cloudless and a balmy seventy-seven degrees, the weather conditions were perfect for a baseball game. Even better, the match up pitted two of the sport's biggest rivals: the woebegone Boston Red Sox and the American League's bad boys, the New York Yankees. Roger had scored front row tickets on the first base side in an office raffle and looked forward to taking his family to Boston's last home game of the season. He was on his way out of the office for the day when his desk phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Scotland's burning, Scotland's b-burning! Look out, look out.... Fire, fire, fire, fire..."

An icy fear knotted in Roger's stomach. He thought he recognized the voice, but before he could respond to the cryptic message, a soft click and the sound of a dial tone echoed in his ears.

With trembling fingers, Roger dialed his sister. One ring. Two. Three. Damn it, sis, where are you? Answer the goddamned phone! "Hi there, you've reached Marshall, Amber and Scott Madison! We can't come to the phone right now, so leave us your name and number..." They should be home! Why aren't they answering the telephone?

The angry blare of a horn interrupted Roger's thoughts. He watched through his office window as two fire engines and an ambulance flew through the red light, sirens howling. Seconds later more emergency vehicles sped through the intersection, paying no attention to the light. Two more ambulances screeched by, followed by several police cars. All were going in the same direction as the fire engines and the first ambulance. For the first time, Roger caught the whiff of smoke and saw a thick, dark haze billowing into the sky in the west.

No—not after everything they've been through! Roger sprinted out of the office, raced across the parking lot, hopped into his car and, with a squeal of tires, barreled out of the parking lot and into traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Jeep. Weaving in and out of lanes, not caring if he cut people off, the panicked man headed straight, towards the highway.

As he turned onto Highway 9, the smoke became more acrid, thicker. By the time he reached 56 Pleasant Court, the street that his sister, Amber, and her husband, Marshall Madison, lived on, he had to turn on his high beams to see.

When he rounded the curve and pulled up to the two-story house, a horrific sight met his eyes: the house was on fire, a veritable inferno. Several police cars clogged the street; the local fire department was fighting a losing battle to try to save the structure. Roger's heart skipped two beats as he slammed on the brakes and turned off the engine. Leaping from the car without closing the door behind him, he dashed toward the house, pulling his polo shirt over his nose and mouth as he ran. Heavy, suffocating black smoke poured from the broken windows and gray ash carpeted the lawn. He cried out and threw his arms over his face instinctively as a bay window on the first floor exploded outward and a ball of orange-yellow flame barreled out. Several firefighters rushed to the newest hot spot and trained their hoses on the blaze.

Before Roger could break through the yellow police tape that surrounded the property, a police officer called to him, "You can't go in there!"

"Where's my family? What's going on here?" Roger asked, blinking against the intense heat put forth by the fire.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Roger Blake, Amber's brother!" "What brings you here, Mr. Blake?"

"We were supposed to be going to the Red Sox game tonight. Is she all right? Where is she?"

The man pulled a small notebook and a pencil from his pocket. "My name's Turner—Al Turner. I'm an officer with the Covington County Sheriff's Department. What time was the ballgame supposed to start?"

"Am I being interrogated? Will you please tell me what in the HELL is going on?" He tried once again to push past the officer.

"Hold on, hold on. Can I see a photo ID?"

"Jesus Christ, what is this?" Roger shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a leather billfold. He opened it to the slot that held his driver's license and thrust it into the officer's hands. "Where is my sister? Was she at home? Was she hurt?"

The officer looked at the license and then back at Roger, comparing the information on the license with what he saw in front of him. "An ambulance passed me on the way here; did they take her to the hospital? Where is she? Mercy? Beth-Israel?"

Officer Turner sighed. "I'm sorry. They're dead, Mr. Blake. The firefighters tried to get to them both in time but weren't successful. I'm sorry."

"What?" Roger's legs felt weak, as if they might buckle beneath him. The hot-sour taste of bile filled his mouth and he swallowed several times to prevent himself from vomiting. The Visionary Coalition found them, despite everything, he thought. It didn't matter to them that Marshall and Amber were out of the loop and couldn't have told them anything, even if they'd wanted to. Both of 'em wanted out for Scott's sake...

...And the Visionists capitalized on it.

A movement in the Madison's driveway caught Roger's eye. His stomach flipped uncomfortably as he watched two medics carefully placing a burned and bloodied body into a body bag. He caught sight of feet: one foot bare and blistered, a sneaker remaining on the other. Marshall's feet. Those are Marshall's feet. He's under there, dead. And there's blood... so much blood. I can't believe I'm seeing this! Roger watched, horrified, as the doors to the awaiting ambulance opened and Marshall Madison was placed carefully into the vehicle. The medics slammed the doors closed and the ambulance rolled away. No flashing lights, no sirens, nothing. The dead needed no fanfare.

"My sister," Roger said weakly. "Where is my sister? She's five months' pregnant!" He tried to look past the officers, but they motioned him to stop.

"You don't want to go in there, Mr. Blake," the officer advised. He placed a heavy hand on Roger's shoulder. "She's dead, too, like I said."

Roger shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the burning building. "Mr. Blake, we have reason to believe that this fire was set deliberately. Do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against your sister and her husband, such as a co-worker?" The officer took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. "Were Marshall and Amber happily married? Were they faithful to each other? Was either of them seeing someone else?"

Roger looked incredulous. "Of course not! What the fuck are you getting at?"

"We have reason to believe that they were dead before the fire started, Mr. Blake." Roger clenched his teeth and fought the lump rising swiftly in his throat. Their deaths—they were all his fault! He should have known that they were in danger! He had been following the Visionists' movements for months.

Marshall and Amber were dead because he hadn't read the signals properly. He traced his dead fiancée's engagement ring with the pointer finger of his right hand. Officer Turner cleared his throat and placed his hands in his pockets. "The coroner's report will tell us for certain, but it appeared that both Marshall and Amber had been shot. Did they keep guns in the house?"

"Of course not! They'd have been too worried about Scott getting his hands on it!" Roger pivoted on his heel, turning away from the officer. He began to weep silently. "Oh God...oh God, no, their son," he said, in a voice so quiet that the officer had to strain to hear. "He's just a little kid. He's only six."

"I'm sorry—"

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Roger spun around and faced the officer, his eyes bright with tears. "Who's going to tell him that his mommy and daddy are dead?" He consulted his watch. "It's two-thirty, so he might still be at school. Someone needs to call them and tell 'em to keep him there for a while. I'm his uncle; I'll go and get him. It was in their will, that if something should happen to them that I would care for Scott!" He bowed his head.

"Mr. Blake, hang on."

"I have to go get Scott. I have to tell him, he needs to hear it from someone he loves, not some stranger he doesn't know!"

"Scott's here."

Silence.

"No," Roger whispered. "He's not dead too, is he? They didn't—please tell me that they—"

"Who would 'they' be, exactly?"

"The Visionists, damn it! Don't you understand? My sister and her husband were Magicals, former members of the Scarlet Guard, actually, but the Visionists...they killed them all—Scott too—didn't they?" Roger swore. "Scott had absolutely nothing to offer them – he hasn't shown a smidgen of magical powers, but it wasn't good enough for Valdez and his gang just to make him an orphan, was it? God, it's the fourth attack this month. When's it going to end?"

He stared at the officer, his countenance desperate.

"Jesus," said Turner. "I'd heard the rumors that the Coalition was still out and about, causing trouble, but I'd hoped they were wrong. I'm going to have to contact the Head of Security at the Department of Magical Defense about this. He's going to have to know what's going on... maybe he'll get the Scarlet Guard involved."

"Damn straight he will," Roger insisted. "Them an' the Loyalists wouldn't have it any other way." The power struggle between the Loyalists, men or women with magical abilities who supported a healthy political and social balance between those who chose to develop their magical skills and those who chose to live without the aid of spells and enchantments, and the Visionists had been going full swing for almost thirty years. Raphael Valdez, a wizard with powers so awesome that the most courageous of men feared him, was the Visionary Coalition's leader. Those who supported Valdez's vision believed that those with enhanced magical abilities that chose to develop their talents should rule supreme over those 'too lazy' to bother in order for society to flourish. While the number of Visionists was relatively small in comparison to the Loyalists, those in the group were powerful men and women, handpicked by Valdez himself. Strong both magically and physically, they had no qualms about eradicating anyone that might have the power to block their leader's rise to power.

Roger spoke again, his words halting, afraid of the officer's response. "You didn't answer me when...when I asked before, you know...about my nephew. They murdered him too, didn't they? He was just an innocent kid." He paused, his eyes filled with despair. "They've taken everyone I care about away from me... Amber, Marshall, a little nephew I'm never going to meet, Corinna, Scott—"

"No, Mr. Blake. The boy's still alive." Turner pointed to the one remaining ambulance. Medics were tending to a tiny body on a white stretcher. Scott. Tears welled in Roger's eyes as he stared at his unresponsive nephew. The child was covered in dirt, his dark blond hair streaked with ash. Scott wore a T-shirt bearing the name of Johnny Damon, his favorite baseball player and a pair of navy blue shorts. Roger could hear the medics as they spoke to Scott, urging him in hushed tones to speak, to cough or to squeeze a hand if he could hear them. When, several seconds later Scott coughed and began to cry, a cheer arose from his caregivers as quickly, they threw a white blanket over him and prepared him for transport to the hospital.

Roger watched as a tanned arm slipped from the confines of the blanket, the hand grimy and covered in soot. "So what happens now?" he asked Turner in a tired voice.

"The first responders are stabilizing him now, before they take him to Beth-Israel. The smoke got to him, so he's in bad shape. They're not sure he's going to—"

An inhuman scream coming from the house interrupted the officer's words. He turned around, his eyes wide. "Was that a person?" "There's someone else in there!" yelled one firefighter. "Christ! I thought it was all clear," hollered another. "We've got to go back in!"

As the firefighters raced towards the house, a huge ball of fire ripped the house apart. They heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by an ear- splitting crack. The firefighters watched, helpless, as the house caved in on itself, collapsing in a flurry of ashes, flames and smoke. The officer stared at the blaze and shook his head, his mouth slightly open. "If there's a just God, it was quick," he said. You've got it all wrong, pal, thought Roger. If there's a just God, the motherfucker's burning in Hell.

September 20, 2002

Tessa Laughlin leaned backward in her chair and crossed her legs, a pleased smile dancing across her lips. She loved it when her students performed to their potential. "You, my dear, are going to be brilliant tomorrow night. I don't think I've ever heard Chopin's 'Heroic' played with as much fire and feeling as I did just now, and that includes the time I heard it played by Voronietsky," she complimented the blonde-haired girl sitting on the piano bench before her.

"You're just saying that to be nice," Shelby protested.

"Since when have I ever been nice?" Tessa fixed a panicked expression on her face. "I'm losing my touch, aren't I? Have I gone soft? Is that what people are saying?"

Shelby laughed. "No, you haven't gone soft; you're still the scariest teacher in the studio. It's just that getting a compliment from you is...sorta weird, because you don't give them out much."

"Well then, you'll always know that when I do compliment, I mean it. Constant praise is detrimental and results in weakness. You can always do better, Shelby. Everyone can."

Shelby nodded and flipped through her music. "But really, though, you have to help me! Did you hear what I did on page seven? My fingerings were totally wrong and I played the runs out of sequence!" She sighed. "I'm not going to be ready for this stupid pageant. I should have done the 'Minute Waltz!'"

"The only good thing about your rendition of the 'Minute Waltz,' Shelby, is that it would have been over in a minute," Tessa said. "You made the right choice in switching to the 'Heroic.' I wouldn't tell you something that isn't true and you know that."

Shelby nodded. "But the fingering—"

"If you're so worried about the fingering, we can work out an alternate method that's more comfortable," Tessa offered. She reached for her red pen and asked her student to give her the copy of the music. Scanning the passage in question, she placed her pen to the staff and wrote in a series of numbers.

"There," she said finally, handing the music back to her charge. "This'll work better, I think. And don't take the run quite as fast as you did earlier. There's a natural ritard built in at measure—"

A knock at the door interrupted Tessa's lesson. "Yes, what is it?"

"Shelby's mother's here, Tessa," said Michelle, the bookkeeper as she poked her head in the doorway. "She looks upset. What have you done this time?"

Tessa glanced at the small clock that rested on top of the piano and saw that it was five-forty. Her eyes widened. "Oh no! We got so into what we were doing we totally forgot about the time! You're going to be fine tomorrow night, Miss Snow," Tessa said, giving her student a brief hug. "Just remember to relax and have fun. That's what this is all about, okay?"

"Tell my mother that," muttered Shelby. "She's constantly going on about how much this pageant has cost and how if I don't win she's out thousands of bucks. Geez, you'd think she was the one running...."

Tessa nodded and patted her on the back as she left the room. Distantly she could hear Shelby's mother's angry voice, followed by Shelby's more patient, softer voice, ending with a door slam and the jingle of the shop bells. A moment later, the door to Tessa's studio opened once again.

"So Mrs. Snow was in fine form today, huh?" Tessa asked, peeking out the studio window and watching her drive away.

Michelle sat on the piano bench and rolled her eyes. "Was she ever! I gave her your usual excuse."

"Not again! I wonder if she'll ever see through that? How many weeks can one have explosive diarrhea?" Tessa said with a snicker as she put her metronome and notebook in her desk drawer and picked up her handbag.

"I'm not bailing you out again, Tessa. She's a real bitch. I'd watch my back with her, if I were you," Michelle warned. "She was wicked mad this week. She wants your head on a platter. You should have heard her— 'My daughter's going to be late for her tanning appointment and those beds don't come cheap. If I have to pay a late charge, Miss Laughlin'd better reimburse me. If she can't keep her eye on the clock, I'm going to start taking my daughter to someone who can'— and she went on and on! Her poor daughter just rolled her eyes and made a beeline for the car, and I don't blame her a bit. If I'd had a mother like that growing up I would have slit my wrists!"

"I'm not worried about Mrs. Snow," Tessa said, placing loose sheet music into her book bag. "She knows that I'm the best in town and her dignity won't allow her to take her daughter someplace else, even if she wanted to." She giggled. "Think of what the other pageant mothers would say. Oh, the scandal!" She threw an arm across her eyes and pretended to faint. "I've worked here for three years, and I've got a reputation for being the best piano teacher there is. People come to me because I make 'em work: drills, technique, scales, theory and so forth. I get results, and the serious piano students in this state know it." Tessa reached for her jacket. "I'd bet next weeks' pay on Shelby's success tomorrow night."

"Well, I hope that Shelby wins for both her sake and yours, then." Michelle handed Tessa a hot pink Post-it note. "Your mother called. She told me to remind you about the banquet tonight. It starts at seven o'clock."

Tessa took the note and glanced at it. Rolling her eyes, she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the wastebasket. "I have so much more I could be doing tonight! I mean, it's not as if I'm a damned member, anyway. When is she going to learn that I don't like going to these stupid social events?"

"Maybe when you move out of the house and get married?" suggested Michelle.

"Don't you go starting on me, too," snapped Tessa. "God, you'd think I was an old maid, the way she tells it—you're our only daughter and we want to be grandparents someday...don't you even care? When are you going to settle down with a nice young man—it's annoying."

"Well, I'm jealous of you," Michelle said with a scowl. "I wish I'd been invited, but well...not enough magical talent, you know. That, and I don't have any cool connections."

"As if my magical skills are anything impressive," Tessa retorted. "I can barely levitate a spoon! The only reason I was invited is that my parents are former Scarlet Guardsmen and still carry a little weight. Hopefully everything will blow over soon and everybody can get back to normal."

"We can only hope," Michelle agreed, looking away and biting her lip. For a moment, she fell silent. Tessa noticed that she looked different...almost nervous.

"Is there something the matter? Don't tell me you're really upset about not being able to go to this thing tonight," Tessa said.

"Jesus, Tessa, it's coming up on six o'clock. You have to get out of here, now!" Michelle practically pushed her co-worker to the door. "Have a good time tonight, you hear me? I want details tomorrow afternoon, and the phone numbers of any hot-looking rich guys you happen to meet."

Tessa fished her car keys out of her pocket. "You're impossible," she said, shaking her head as she left the studio and walked to her Saab. Michelle watched her co-worker and friend climb into her car and adjust the mirrors. As Tessa sped out of the parking lot, leaving tire marks and a cloud of dust in her wake, the bookkeeper reached over the counter, picked up her cell phone and dialed.

Before she could even hear a ring, she was connected. "It's done," she said. "She's on her way home now. If she doesn't stop anywhere, she'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Excellent, Miss Keegan. You will b-be rewarded handsomely for your work tonight. Ten thousand dollars for one telephone call isn't b-bad scratch, now is it?"

"I guess not. I just want this over with. I wish I'd never agreed to it. What if someone finds out what I did? "

"Don't you worry your p-pretty little head," the caller intoned in a patronizing, oily voice. "This will never get traced b-back to you, angel. We're a very efficient organization. When you hang up, go to your car. You'll find your money in the b-backseat, underneath your overdue library books." The man on the other end chuckled. "Those library fines add up quickly. Let that b-be a lesson to return your materials on time." With that, the line went dead.

Michelle shuddered as she placed her cell phone in her pocket and locked the studio for the night. Two minutes later, she was blown to bits when she opened the door to her Subaru and triggered the bomb hidden in a bag filled with Monopoly money.

***

_I hope that mom thought to iron my gown because I sure as hell didn't_ , Tessa thought as she attempted to put on mascara and drive at the same time. It was a talent that she had perfected during college, when she would roll out of bed ten minutes before she had to be at class and needed to make herself up in rush hour traffic. _Maybe she didn't. Then I'd have an excuse to stay home_.

Tessa knew that the banquet was the premiere gala event of the year, but that didn't mean that she was excited about going. The annual five hundred- dollar per plate event drew well-known dignitaries, Magicals, political leaders, the social elite—in other words, a veritable A-list of people—and anyone who was anyone was sure to attend. The affair was the Loyalist's biggest fundraiser of the year. Millionaires would donate vast sums of money to back funding for the capture and execution of members of the radical Visionary Coalition.

Tessa understood the importance of the banquet, and knew that the danger of the Coalition's movements was very real. In the last several months, the acts of terror against non-Magicals and those who supported the Loyalist's causes had grown more brazen, more terrifying: an entire family of staunch Loyalists in Ireland tied to fence posts and eviscerated with tree branches; a young woman training for the Kenyan branch of the Scarlet Guard found raped and beheaded. Only the week before, the Department of Magical Defense discovered the body of a non-magical in a pool of his own vomit—the apparent victim of the worst magical curse of all—the dreaded _Memento Mori_ , a spell that caused its target to regress rapidly, physically and mentally, until the victim simply forgot to breathe and choked on his own saliva. The attack had taken place less than one hundred miles from Covington, causing the Department of Magical Defense to insist on a nine o'clock curfew, after which time only the Scarlet Guard and the civilian police force would be able to walk the streets. The stakes had risen and the Loyalists knew that the madness would continue.

As the sun fell below the horizon, Tessa pulled into the driveway of 68 Tallyrand Court and threw her Saab into park. She got out of the car and frowned when her Yorkshire terrier, Spanky, failed to greet her as he usually did, with several excited barks.

_If he's digging holes in the neighbor's yard again..._ Tessa pushed the front door open. She could smell chocolate chip cookie bars from the kitchen and smiled. She loved her mother's cookie bars. More than once, she had suggested to her mother, Linda that she ought to write a cookbook. Her appetite whetted, Tessa poked her head into the kitchen.

"I'm home, mom. Can I have a bar?" But nobody was in the kitchen. A plate of the treats rested on the divider, cooling. Tessa saw that a baking dish had fallen to the floor, cookie batter still in it. A floury handprint was on the nearby wall. Tessa thought it odd that her mother would have been baking so late in the day, and not bothered to clean up after herself. With a shrug, she picked up the bowl, placed it into the sink, reached for a cookie and bit into it as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. She found her gown lying across her bed, neatly pressed.

Tessa smiled. Her mother hated this dress, but it was Tessa's favorite. Emerald green with an empire waist and accented with gold trim, she had worn the dress in public several times but she didn't care. Sometimes she wondered if there had been a mix-up at the hospital and she had been switched with another baby at birth. While both of her parents were comfortable in the limelight, seeming to crave the world's attention, she was more comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and sneakers.

The only daughter of Michael and Linda Laughlin shucked off her work clothes, gave her armpits a sniff and swiped each with deodorant before slipping the dress over her head and zipping it up. Running a brush through her hair, she debated for a moment about how she ought to wear it. Her mother liked it down and swept to one side. Tessa wrinkled her nose at the image and decided to pull it into an elegant bun, held in place with rhinestone clips. Finally, she clasped her favorite silver chain around her neck.

At ten minutes to seven, Tessa stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals and left her bedroom. As she walked down the stairwell, she yelled to her parents. "Mom? Dad? I'm all dressed. Where are you two? Don't you want to see how well I cleaned up?" she asked. There was no answer. Halfway down the stairs of the Laughlin house was a small landing that broke up the long staircase. On the landing was the doorway to her parent's bedroom. The door was closed, but she could see that a lamp was on; the soft yellow light poured from underneath the door.

Tessa placed an ear to the door but couldn't hear anything. _This is strange_ , she thought. _It's not like them not to be here. If they left without me, I'm not going. If they can't have the courtesy to wait for me, then they deserve what they get_!

BANG! Tessa gasped with surprise at the sound of the back door slamming. The house had been quiet, almost eerily so and the noise seemed out of place. The back door led to her parent's summer garden, a place they frequented often for peace and quiet. They had probably been out there the whole time, sitting in their deck chairs and waiting for her.

_That was why they didn't answer when I yelled_ , she thought _. If they're out here, they couldn't hear me._ She consulted her watch and frowned. They were going to be late at this rate—unfashionably so.

As she stepped into the hallway that led to the back door, the hairs on Tessa's neck rose. Something didn't feel right. Her mother should have come up to her bedroom, railed at her for being late, and reminded her that it wasn't polite to be tardy to such an important social function. She should have chastised Tessa for eating a cookie bar so close to dinner and told her that she'd never fit into the dress if she kept it up. Something wasn't sitting right with the entire situation...

...And her parent's car was still in the driveway, parked next to hers.

Where were her parents? Now angry and frightened, Tessa reached into her handbag and withdrew her wand. Being the daughter of two members of the Scarlet Guard had its advantages; she was in the minority of magical people allowed to possess and carry a concealed wand. Only those formally trained in the magical arts, such as law enforcement and medicinal arts could legally have one in their possession. Occasionally, however, the rules were relaxed for family members of Scarlet Guardsmen, and her parents had insisted she obtain one. They had taught her several self-defense spells not normally taught to civilians.

Holding her wand in front of her, her throat dry and her heart pounding, she pushed open the back door and stepped into the summer garden. Everything looked normal; a warm evening breeze blew through the hanging plants and the rosebushes, causing a faint rustling noise. Her father's enormous set of wind chimes bonged lazily; a finch drank from the birdbath. Tessa stepped away from the back door. One step... two... three. The heels of her sandals echoed. The back yard appeared deserted. In frustration, she allowed her wand hand to fall to her side. And then she saw it...

The cigarette.

On the wicker table in the center of the summer garden, a cigarette burned, its smelly smoke snaking upwards, spoiling the otherwise perfect setting. The cigarette hadn't been lit long; Tessa could still see the brand name on the filter: Pall Mall. Her parents didn't smoke.

"Oh no," she whispered, stepping backward.

Suddenly everything made awful sense and she whirled around to run. A pair of strong arms grabbed her roughly from behind and threw her to the ground. She tried to scream as she twisted against the arms and kicked wildly, but a sweaty hand clamped itself over her mouth. She managed to thwap her assailant with her wand hard enough for his grip to relax for a second. In desperation, she yelled for her dog.

A crushing blow to her head caused her to see stars and she went limp. Her assailant pressed a cloth to her nose and mouth. She struggled weakly against his hand, trying to catch a breath of fresh air. Despite the pain, she raised her arms to try to fight off her attacker but her vision began to blur and the laughter she heard seemed far away _. Chloroform_ , she thought as her world went dark _. It's the oldest trick in the book._

The Devil's Deal

Tessa regained consciousness many hours later, finding herself in a small, unremarkable room, bound with cords to a deck chair. Someone had forced a dirty cloth into her mouth and pasted over it with tape. The cloth tasted oily and she fought not to gag.

When Tessa was six years' old, her parents had taken her on a canoe trip. As they had paddled over the calm water, she had peered over the side to see if she could spot any fish. She had leaned too far forward and fallen in. At the time, she hadn't been able to swim and it had felt like she had been underwater forever before her father had dived in and pulled her to safety. She had never forgotten the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe.

Panic welled within her as she twisted her head from side to side, trying to loosen the industrial-grade tape. The cloth in her mouth was soaked with her own saliva, enhancing the drowning feeling. Unable to scream, she whimpered as loudly as she could, trying to get someone's attention. She rocked back and forth in the chair, desperate to breathe. Things were starting to go black before her eyes and she knew that she was going to pass out if she didn't get a hold of herself.

_Concentrate. Relax. You'll get all the air you need if you just stay calm. Breathe in, breathe out_. Despite herself, Tessa couldn't calm down. With one more violent rock of the chair, she felt it teeter precariously on its back legs before falling backward, taking her with it. The chair hit the floor, knocking the wind out of her.

A door opened behind her and a man's voice, somewhat nasal and thin: "What's g-going on in here?"

Tessa tried to turn her head to see who her captor was. Her eyes widened with horror as a very short man with thinning blond hair pulled into a ponytail placed his hands on her ankles and looked down at her, a leer on his face. His beady blue-gray eyes glimmered with victory and something else Tessa didn't like at all. She thought that she recognized his face, but couldn't quite remember why or how. Her brow furrowed as she wracked her brain trying to place him.

"I can't imagine that you're comfortable down there," he said.

Tessa shook her head.

He laughed low as he straightened himself up, allowing his fingers to linger longer on her legs than necessary. He sauntered past her, bent down, grasped the chair by the back and hoisted it upright. He reached for the tape on Tessa's mouth and pulled it off in one swift motion.

She spat out the cloth and gasped greedily for air. "That hurt! Could you maybe have given me a little warning before you ripped my damned face off?"

"Shut your mouth or I'll p-put the tape b-back on," the man answered coolly.

"You could've magicked the tape off," Tessa snarled.

Her captor ignored her comment. He circled Tessa and eyed her hungrily. "Such a p-pretty young thing. You are going to be p-perfect for the job." He leaned in close to Tessa's frightened face, so that his nose touched hers. Her eyes widened; one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Yes, indeed, p-perfect."

Tessa recoiled as his finger trailed down her soft cheek, along her jaw line and to the nape of her neck. "I wouldn't mind having you to myself after Valdez has finished his b-business with you," he chuckled. His fingers inched past Tessa's collarbone to where her dress plunged between her breasts. She bit her lip and turned her head away as he rested a fingertip on the silky fabric. "I see no harm in g-giving you a test run," he said, his oily voice reminding Tessa of every used-car salesman she had ever met. His hand continued to travel downward until it rested on her upper thigh. He wound a length of the long silver chain she wore around her neck through the fingers of his other hand. He licked her cheek.

"How's about going down on me, slut? Would you like that?" Tessa closed her eyes, terrified, tears running down her face. "Are you deaf? I asked you a question, b-bitch!" He yanked the chain hard enough to nearly snap it.

"N-no," she stammered. "Please—I haven't—"

"What are you doing?" Tessa's aggressor quickly stepped away from her, paling as an unusually tall man entered the room, flanked by two other men, each muscular and imposing. Tessa surmised that they were the tall man's bodyguards. She couldn't help but stare at their charge: a ghoulishly disfigured man too thin to be healthy with a mass of red and pink scars covering his face. He had no eyebrows or eyelashes and the whites of his eyes were not white at all; instead, they were an angry crimson. A wisp of dark hair grew upon his head; one ear was horribly deformed. He was clad head to toe in black.

"You haven't hurt her, have you, Spellman?" he asked the blond-haired man.

"N-no, boss. I-I didn't do anything, I swear it," Spellman answered, bowing his head.

"Simon, Miss Laughlin will be doing better things for the advancement of the Coalition than attending to you. He turned toward Tessa. "Take a picture, Miss Laughlin, it will last longer," the deformed man said. "It was a fire that did this," he added as he pointed to his face. "A fire that took place twelve years ago...one I was lucky enough to escape."

Tessa could barely process what she was seeing. The rumors were true...Raphael Valdez was alive!

She began to shriek. Valdez nodded to his second in command; Spellman pulled his wand from his holster, and pointed it at Tessa. "Silence!"

"What's going on? Where are my par—" Tessa's eyes widened as she discovered her lips magically glued together. Valdez pulled out a knife and twirled it around between his fingers. "If you scream again, girl, I'll cut out your tongue. Now, will you be silent?"

Tessa nodded vigorously and Valdez placed a thin finger to her lips, lifting the spell and allowing her to speak. "What do you want with me?" she said through gritted teeth. "I have nothing you could use."

"Oh but you do, Miss Laughlin. Your parents, Michael and Linda Laughlin have been thorns in my side for ages. They are two of the most powerful Guardsmen of their generation," Valdez explained. "They both knew that I disagreed with the mainstream beliefs held by the Loyalists; they kept an annoyingly close watch on my activities for years. They suspected that I was becoming more and more powerful before most in the magical community did and made it their mission to get rid of me."

He nodded to the man at his left, who turned around and picked up a box that rested behind him. Valdez took the box from the man's hands and opened it to reveal a beautiful amber crystal ball, about the size of a soccer ball, perfectly spherical and transparent. He levitated the orb with his long, scarred fingers and moved it so that it rested at eye level with Tessa. The ball spun slowly on an invisible axis. "Unfortunately for your parents it appears as if I'll have the last laugh, that is, when you complete your part in my plan," he said, and suddenly, Tessa knew why her parents hadn't come when she had called earlier. She cried out in horror as, from within the crystal an image of her parents appeared. Someone had chained them to a dungeon wall. A group of Visionists surrounded them, throwing curses. Stripped of their wands, Tessa's parents were unable to deflect them. "Please stop torturing them!" she cried.

"Every time you disobey me, I will make them hurt. How much torture they receive is in your hands," Valdez said. "If you want your parents alive and in one piece, I strongly suggest your complete cooperation! There is only so much cursing that a person of our kind can take, you know."

"Never! My parents would rather die than have me do your bidding!" she hissed with more courage than she felt.

Valdez stopped smiling. "Yes," he agreed, "but can you live with the knowledge that you helped to bring about their deaths?" Tessa cringed as, from within the Orb, a Visionist raised his wand and hit her mother with a curse that caused her to scream in pain.

She couldn't bear to watch any longer. "What do you want?" she asked.

"Look." Valdez stared into the Orb. Tessa did the same. From the smoky depths of the crystal, she saw a teenaged boy with untidy, dirty-blond hair falling into his eyes. She studied him for several moments before recognizing him from the sports pages of the Daily Telegram. "That's Scott Madison," she breathed.

"Your perception of the obvious is uncanny," Valdez offered, his gaze never leaving the ball. "Scott Madison has been a source of intense annoyance for many, many years. His parents were two of the brightest magical minds the DMD had ever produced. Many of their own, even Amber's brother, Roger Blake, actually believed the couple had left the Guard for a more...civilian lifestyle, but I knew better. I knew that they were part of a faction of the Department of Covert Operations that was working on a top-secret project nicknamed Grammarye. If successful, it would have had the power to thwart my plans for total control. Of course, I couldn't allow that to happen. I placed several people loyal to my cause in their midst as spies, searching out information and gathering tips...."

"I don't understand," Tessa said, recalcitrant. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I've never heard of any sort of secret plans!"

"I wouldn't expect you to," Valdez said. "Thanks in no small part to my moles, Grammarye never took off. The DMD scrapped the project only a few years' afterward. However, neither Marhsall nor Amber were ones to let things be. They wanted to try again, to tempt fate, to play God, as it were, and nothing, not even the protestations of your own parents would convince them otherwise. They were charismatic; I knew they had the power to act alone if they needed to, I knew that they would and eventually, people would come back to the cause. It is because of this that they were always on the move. It was because of this that those who agreed with them guarded them. It was because of their collective power that I made it my mission to find them."

"But where does this have to do with me? I was a child when all of this happened. I had no part in my parent's plans!" Tessa cried.

"The concept of poetic justice is lost on you completely, isn't it, Miss Laughlin?" Valdez chuckled. "Your parents succumbed to their charms! They chose to help protect them! Well, now they will see their hard work destroyed by the hand of their only child. Imagine—their months of watching over the Madison's home day in and day out, their bravery in helping to rescue Scott and to try and destroy me become nothing, all due to their darling daughter."

A slow smile spread across Spellman's face. "It's in-in-ingenious. Diabolically c-cruel, not only for the Laughlin's, but a-also for Madison.

"Indeed." Valdez turned to the crystal. "It would stand to reason that the offspring of two of the most powerful Guardsmen in years would be even more powerful. If that turns out to be true, I'll never reach my full potential. That, my dear, is where you come in." He turned to Tessa. "You are going to bring Scott to me."

Tessa's eyes widened. "Bring him to you? How in the hell am I supposed to do that? He doesn't even know me." She frowned. "This is ridiculous. I won't do it!"

"Won't you?" Valdez asked as he drummed his fingers lazily on the crystal ball's smooth surface. Tessa could see the bloodied images of her parents within its depths. Valdez's followers had given up on the curses and now took turns punching and hitting the couple. Weakened by the force of the earlier magical blows, Tessa's parents were powerless to stop them. Tessa watched her father collapse under a blow to the head and hit the floor.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it! But how?"

Valdez laughed. "It is nice to see you using reason, Miss Laughlin. Perhaps you're not as stupid as you appear. The plan is simple: you're going to go to Briarwood Academy disguised as an exchange student and befriend him. You're going to seduce him out of the school and bring him to a destination that I'll give to you soon. Once alerted to your success, I'll arrive and dispose of him. When he is dead, my path to supremacy over the magical world is clear."

Tessa winced and Valdez continued. "Then, and only then will you see your parents alive again. Fail, and they will die and you with them."

Tessa fought back tears of frustration and stared defiantly at Valdez. "How am I going to seduce Scott Madison? I don't even know him! He's not going to want anything to do with me! How will I get into the school? Headmaster Reid's no idiot!"

"A letter of acceptance to the school is being drafted by one of my associates as I speak. You will reside in Madison's dormitory. Using your—" he paused, as if saying the next phrase sickened him, "—womanly wiles, you will seduce him out of the building. It won't be hard; after all, lust is one of the seven deadly sins. Only those who are truly pure are immune to its charms." He gestured to Simon with one hand. "From the way Simon's ogling your breasts, combined with the fact that Scott's probably a typical sex-starved adolescent male, he'll be no match for you."

Tessa looked into the glass again. Scott looked up and Tessa could see his hazel eyes and wide smile. He looked so innocent and sweet _. How can I do this? How will I live with myself?_

"I'll do it," she said in a resigned voice, "if it helps my parents." _Maybe I can come up with a way to warn him,_ she thought.

"I knew you would see reason. You're a clever woman. However, should you do or say anything that might tip Mr. Madison off, your parents die immediately," Valdez warned.

"I think it fair to warn you that I attended Briarwood for a short time when I was a freshman," Tessa said. "Somebody's bound to recognize me. What then?"

"I've thought about that too," Valdez said. He nodded to one of his bodyguards, who held up a pair of scissors and a box of hair color.

Tessa's eyes widened. "No! Don't cut my hair! I've been growing it out for two years and I like it the color that it is!"

"But the red highlights are sure to set off your cheekbones," Valdez said with an evil smile. "Besides, your parents would be terribly remiss were they to die because their daughter failed to wear a disguise." He nodded to his bodyguard, who had stepped behind Tessa's chair, shears in hand. "You may begin."

Let the Games Begin

Tessa stood on the sidewalk just outside the iron gates of Briarwood Academy. Every muscle in her body hurt as if she had worked out especially hard the day before. The pavement was wet and slick; it had rained earlier in the day. The air had a definite nip to it. Briarwood, a boarding school for both those students gifted in magic and those who weren't, hadn't changed much since she had left —children of Scarlet Guard members had to be ready to move on a moment's notice for security purposes. Long tendrils of vines and patches of moss still covered Briarwood's walls. Several maple trees thrived along the cobbled pathway leading to the main entrance of the building and she was certain that she saw a new dormitory just beyond the greenhouses but, other than that, the school looked the same as it had years earlier.

She placed a hand to her ear and could make out the faint sounds of laughter coming from the main hall. Tessa thought back to her school years and smiled to herself. She had been an honors student: clever, curious and always eager to learn something new. She remembered the effusive praise she received from Mrs. Keller, the instructor of European history at the time. She wondered if the old woman still taught or had she retired. European history had been her favorite class.

Briarwood had been a wonderful place to learn and make friends. She wondered fleetingly if she would be able to make friends. How else would she get to Scott? And even if she should meet him, how in the world would she convince him to follow her anywhere? Tessa knew relatively little about him except what she had read in the newspapers, and even she was wise enough to know that the newspapers had a tendency to exaggerate the truth. He was a good football player. He played quarterback for Briarwood and last year had led his team to the state championship game, but lost against Hartford Prep, a school that had the nastiest reputation in the state. Leading by six with four minutes to play, a controversial play by the Hartford team had resulted in a broken collarbone for Scott, forcing him to miss the rest of the game. The kids who had gone to Hartford Prep in Tessa's time had been rough, snobby, arrogant, all- around assholes. Probably still were, she thought with a half-smile.

Madison became a media darling on the same day he lost his mother, father and unborn baby brother; When Tessa was twelve years old, he was the sole survivor in an attack on his family by the Visionist's most powerful members. Tessa had heard all the rumors about Scott and Valdez over the years. Some said that Scott had aimed his father's gun in Valdez's direction, his chubby hands barely strong enough to pull the trigger, using his mother's bloody, battered body as a human shield. Others whispered that Scott's frightened screams alerted neighbors and, when law enforcement reached 56 Pleasant Court, Valdez saw himself as cornered and committed suicide, choosing to die by his own hand than be taken away and held prisoner for the rest of his life. Still others debated that Valdez's own men had turned against his unorthodox ideas and tipped off members of the Scarlet Guard, a group of the magical world's most elite crime fighters, that something dangerous was going to go down at the Madison house. One far-fetched rumor even told of Valdez, his clothing on fire and moments from death, rising from the charred ashes brandishing his wand and casting spell after spell to ward off his own death.

While each person's telling of the events of that day was a little different from the one before, one thing, however, remained the same: nobody had recovered Valdez's body from the rubble of the burned house. For all of the rumors that praised Scott Madison's fast thinking in the face of danger, there persisted on a much smaller scale another rumor; a more frightening story whispered in darkened halls in the dead of the night; after children had been tucked safely in their beds. Many people considered Valdez immortal, saying he'd offered his soul to the Devil in exchange for immortality.

Little Scott had managed to set Valdez's plans back several years. Valdez wouldn't allow himself be thwarted by a six-year old. Eventually, he would rise again, more powerful than before and hell-bent on revenge. Because Visionist activity against the law-abiding magical world had increased over the past several months, many recognized that his re- acquisition of power was imminent.

The screech of a car speeding down the street, its windows open and its stereo blasting the latest hit by Insane Clown Posse jolted Tessa back into the present. With trembling fingers, she reached for the wrought-iron gate handle. She made her way up the cobblestone path to the doorstep of Briarwood's main hall. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the inside. The door opened to reveal a short, unpleasant-looking man. With his graying hair and beard, nose hair protruding from huge nostrils, sharp gray eyes that glared haughtily over a pair of square glasses and quite possibly the ugliest bow tie she'd seen since Paul Simon had been a Congressman, Tessa recognized him right away and prayed that he didn't remember her.

"What do we have here?" he asked softly. Tessa was momentarily speechless. Other than an increased amount of gray hair, Dr. Butler had changed little from his earlier days at Briarwood. If anything, he looked more menacing to Tessa now than he had as her student teacher years ago. It hadn't helped that she had been an abysmal math student. She hadn't even thought about mathematics for ages; she knew she'd be even worse at the subject after being out of school for eight years!

Crossing her fingers behind her, Tessa prayed that, with her age and maturity, trigonometry would come easier to her. "Uh, sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm the exchange student from Wellington who's supposed to stay at Briarwood for the year," she said, cringing as she watched Butler's left eyebrow raise quizzically. He didn't seem to be buying the story at all.

"Indeed?" he questioned. "I wasn't informed that we were to have a new student. Where, pray tell, is your letter?"

Tessa's throat went dry as she reached into her small handbag. _This is it. He has to believe this or my parents are as good as dead_.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the crinkled envelope from her purse and placed it into the teacher's outstretched hand. Dr. Butler continued to stare at her with a very unnerving expression that made her want to crawl underneath a rock. She told him her entire fabricated story with earnest.

"This is all mysterious," he said so softly that Tessa had to strain to hear. Without any warning whatsoever he gripped her arms and stared into her blue eyes. "I don't believe you!" He pulled her toward the front door.

"Please, let me go," she cried with desperation. "I'm telling you the truth!" Dr. Butler's grip didn't lessen. Instead, his grip became more painful, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, an older man dressed in a navy blue suit and leaning on a cane appeared in the stairwell. She recognized him as Dr. Franklin Reid, Headmaster of Briarwood Academy! He hadn't retired. Would he recognize her or would he be fooled by her story?

"Who is this girl, William?" Reid asked, staring at Tessa, bemused.

"I found her lurking outside the main entrance to Briarwood. This girl," he spat, inclining his head toward Tessa, "insists that she is an exchange student from Wellington and is supposed to spend the next school year here. Have you heard anything about this?" he asked.

Tessa tried not to look away as Franklin Reid's eyes lit upon her. They were kind, brown and full of life. Tessa found herself mesmerized by them. Despite having transferred to another school her sophomore year and never having a cause to speak to him before, she remembered Headmaster Franklin Reid as an influential man, well known in the community. Some people had found him hard to approach but he seemed like a pleasant enough person as he stood before her. But that, she thought, is exactly where his power lies. Nobody suspects his magical strength until it's too late.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"My name is, uh, Therese." Tessa had almost given him her actual name. She thought that her true name might ring a bell with the older man, especially if her parents had indeed been thorns, as Valdez had put it. She opened her mouth and uttered the name Valdez had chosen for her: "Therese Robichaud."

"Ah yes, Therese Robichaud. I've been looking forward to your arrival!" He extended a hand and Dr. Butler let go of her arm. Astonished, Tessa wondered what was going on. "I received a fax from Wellington just yesterday. Madame Rioux was most concerned for her star pupil's well being," Dr. Reid continued with a good- natured smile. "She and your parents hoped that your stay at Briarwood would be a success."

Tessa's eyes widened. Valdez had thought of everything, she surmised, including the veiled reference to her parents. "William," Reid addressed the trigonometry teacher, "I apologize most profoundly for not telling you of this sooner. With the excitement of last night's banquet, I forgot to let you know that she'd be arriving today. "Would you call for Ms. Violette to escort Miss Robichaud to her room?"

Butler's gray eyes darkened. Shooting Tessa a look of utter loathing, he turned and walked away, never looking back. Relieved that he was gone, Tessa's legs became weak and she sat helplessly on the steps. Reid sat down beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, my dear. I know that you must be nervous. Ms. Violette is a very kind woman once you get to know her and she will help you with everything you need to be successful here at Briarwood."

Tessa looked at him and wished she could tell him exactly what was going on. If anyone at all could help her, it would be him. The danger to her parents, however, outweighed her desire to tell the truth. She flashed the headmaster a bright smile.

"I'm sure she will be helpful," Tessa agreed, standing up and smoothing her dress. She could hear the sound of footsteps on the staircase, just out of sight. Tessa looked up and saw a tiny, blonde-haired girl accompanying a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties. The girl extended a hand.

"Hello," she offered. "I'm Mallory Decatur. I'm pleased to meet you!"

Tessa blinked with surprise. Mallory Decatur was one of Scott's best friends, according to Visionist intelligence. If she became Mallory's friend, she'd lead her straight to Scott Madison. The sooner that came about, the sooner she could begin the devilish game of seduction that would free her parents and herself.

Trying to cover up her anxiety by smiling, Tessa took Mallory's hand. "My name is Therese Robichaud. I'm a senior at Wellington and I'm looking forward to spending time at your school," she said nervously. She held her breath, hoping that Mallory would believe her lie. To her relief Mallory smiled and nodded. Together, the small group made their way down the corridor.

***

"My favorite teacher is Ms. Violette. She came here last year, when Mrs. Keller retired. She teaches European History and I think that Briarwood's lucky to have her, and I hope she stays until my own kids are here because I can't imagine anyone else being nearly as good as...."

Tessa tried to focus her attention on Mallory, but her head was splitting and she was tired. _God, she talks at a speed that ought to be outlawed_ , she thought, as the pixie-like girl went on and on about who were the best teachers and which ones to avoid. After what seemed an eternity, the three reached York Hall. Tessa could hear the sound of students laughing behind the double doors.

"They're a fun bunch," Ms. Violette said as she turned the knob, "but I wish that they'd focus more on their studies and less on goofing off!" The small group stepped into the common room. Several students were playing a game of Jenga in the corner. A few students sat by the fireplace, cheering loudly for a girl singing karaoke. Another girl was painting her toenails while listening to her CD player and a large group of upperclassmen was sitting at a long table, comparing notes from a class and casting nasty glances at the karaoke singer. Two boys tossed a football to each other. _Of course_ , Tessa concluded. _These kids are to be my fellow classmates!_

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to endure the onslaught of what seemed to be a hundred rowdy teenagers. Fortunately, Ms. Violette saved her.

"May I have your attention please?" Gradually the noise in the room died down as the students noticed their head of house and the nervous-looking student standing next to her. Ms. Violette turned to Tessa and smiled at her. "This is Therese Robichaud, a senior from Wellington. She'll be our guest for the remainder of the school year. I trust that she will be treated with all the respect that is due a guest," she added, turning towards some of the freshmen and sophomores years that whispered behind her. The students caught her steely gaze and closed their mouths. Violette continued. Tessa looked around the room for a boy with brown hair and hazel eyes. Scott wasn't in the room. Despite herself, she sighed with relief.

***

After explanations of the rules and regulations of Briarwood, a discussion of all the classes and who taught each one and a frank conversation about which boys were the sexiest, Tessa was finally able to change into a nightdress and find some privacy in the bathroom. For a long time she stared into the sink and allowed the cool water to soak her hands. It seemed as if giving piano lessons and attending social events was a lifetime ago. She'd had a job she enjoyed, parents who doted on her perhaps a little too much, the calming normality of sitting on the couch until late in the evening, reading her favorite books and munching popcorn. She wondered if things would be ever be normal again.

Her hands had soaked in the water for several minutes; no longer smooth, they were now wrinkled and pruney-looking. With a start, Tessa snapped out of her thoughts and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Staring back at her was the face of a sad woman with deep blue eyes, the lashes long and thin, like delicate ink strokes on a peach canvas. A small patch of cinnamon-brown freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her slightly upturned nose. A wide mouth revealed perfect white teeth (thanks in no small part to the thousands of dollars her parents had spent at the orthodontist when she was younger). Her lips were thinner than she would have liked. Tessa's hair, originally shoulder-length and wavy, was now bobbed and dyed a darker shade of brown.

As she stared at her reflection, she could feel tears coursing down her cheeks. "Damn it, why me?" Tessa whispered to her reflection. "I want to go home! I want to see my parents again! I haven't done anything to deserve this!" She rested her forehead against the mirror and banged the glass with her fists. She held this position for several seconds, weeping softly as not to call attention to herself. The last thing she needed was for someone to come in and see her in tears.

The mirror rippled beneath her fingertips, which she snatched back in surprise. Stepping away from the looking glass in shock, her gaze became transfixed on a cloudy image forming on the surface of the glass. The figure appeared to be a young man— Scott Madison himself! He stood in what she felt must have been the boys' sleeping quarters, and he wore only a pair of striped pajama bottoms and his glasses. Tessa noticed that he was wiry and thin, but he was well muscled for someone who was just eighteen years old. _The muscles must be from the football,_ she thought as she found herself staring at his hairless chest. Scott was laughing at something and seemed to be staring directly at her. In that instant, a darker-haired boy popped into view, pushing Scott onto a bed and delivering a noogie to the top of his head. A laugh escaped Tessa's lips as she watched Scott push the other boy away and straighten his glasses, his hair falling into his face. She stared closer into the mirror and saw that Madison's grin was merry and inviting. She smiled—the first real one she had used in hours and hours. Scott Madison looked like a fun kid to be around.

But then it hit her: he was a kid. A kid that she was to _deceive_! She was to bring Scott Madison to Valdez like a stupid trophy! Her stomach twisted at the thought of doing Valdez's bidding and tears sprang to her eyes again.

Reaching out, she touched his refection through the glass. "Scott Madison," she whispered, "I pray that you are as clever as I have read. I'm sorry that I'm being forced to play a part. Forgive me," she pleaded to the image.

Suddenly, the sound of low laughter filled the bathroom. With wide, horrified eyes, Tessa found her hand magically bound to the glass, which became cloudy once more and the vision of Scott became blurry, like a watercolor in the rain. Mist swirled around the glass and formed into the face of Raphael Valdez. Tessa tried to pull herself from the mirror, with no luck.

"Sympathy for Madison? Such a pity. I had hoped you would work out much better than this," Valdez spoke in malevolent tones.

Tessa shook with fear as she fought to remove her hand from the glass. "Stay away from me, I mean it!" Tessa cried, trying to sound braver than she felt. "I'm going to do this—I just need time. Scott Madison is as good as yours," she said.

This statement seemed to appease her parents' captor. "You have just earned your parents and yourself another day of life, for whatever that's worth," he cackled. Unbound, Tessa's hand dropped to her side. She fell to her knees onto the bathroom floor, her head in her hands. "You have five days to bring Scott Madison to the glen just outside of Pottle Point. Only when he is dead will I release your parents. "Now I suggest that you go to your bed, little girl. You have a big day ahead of you now, don't you? Wipe those tears from your eyes, Tessa Laughlin. You won't impress the boy with that face!" With that, the mirror reverted to its natural state.

Tessa looked up at the mirror, her eyes puffy and red from crying. She sat up, fists clenched at her sides. The longer she sat there, the angrier she became, until suddenly, she jumped to her feet, grabbed a metal waste can and threw it at the mirror with all the force she could muster. Glass rained down from the broken mirror, noisily scattering shards all over the bathroom floor. A knot of fear quickly replaced Tessa's anger. Oh for the love of Pete, she thought, someone's bound to notice this... As quickly as she could manage, Tessa bent over and began to pick up the pieces of glass. She picked up each section of the mirror between her thumb and forefinger, and then deposited it into the bin. If she hurried, she could sneak away from the bathroom and nobody would know that she had done it—but she realized she couldn't just leave the glass on the floor. She reached for a very large chunk of glass, unaware that at the same time, Mallory Decatur was opening the bathroom door.

"Holy shit, what happened in here?"

Startled by Mallory's words, Tessa's hands raised instinctively as looked in the direction of her voice and promptly sliced her arm, causing a gash. Blood trickled from the wound and onto the clean cotton nightdress she wore. Swearing in pain, Tessa clutched at her arm. "I'm making a mess all over the place. Geez, this hurts!"

"Oh my God, Therese, I'm sorry I scared you. What happened in here?" Mallory noticed Tessa's teary face. "Never mind," she said. "We need to get you to the nurse right away!" With that, the pair left the bathroom. If they had bothered to stay, they would have heard the sound of giggling coming from the shards of glass that littered the floor.

***

"Spellman has arrived."

"Show him in." The guard opened the door to the chambers and beckoned the balding man into the room. He offered Valdez's right-hand man a curt bow, which Simon ignored. Once Simon had stepped past him, the guard left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

When the mood suited him, Simon Spellman had the capability to be a powerful sorcerer and many in the Coalition considered him Valdez's most trusted confidante. He was the son of the late Martin Spellman, former Head of Surveillance for the Scarlet Guard. Many had thought Simon would follow his example; it had come as a shock to many when he publicly renounced his allegiance to the Loyalists. His poor mother hadn't been right in the head since. His knowledge of the workings of both the Loyalist movement and the Scarlet Guard had proven beneficial to the Visionists and had set the good guys back several years.

Raphael Valdez sat in his usual place; a straight-backed mahogany chair draped in fine crimson silk. His loose black shirt and matching trousers settled about him in elegant folds, as if moved by magic. A contemptuous grin spread across his wax-like face as he watched his second-in-command kneel before him on the uncomfortable stone floor. Valdez's eyes were cold and calculating as he deliberately waited several seconds before addressing Simon. With grim satisfaction, he watched as the shorter man winced with pain, his legs beginning to cramp. Valdez made a low noise in his throat. _A little pain is good for the soul,_ he thought. Holding his hands as if in prayer, Valdez touched his fingertips to his chin. He rose from his seat and began to pace, stopping at his desk, which held his crystal Orb, some ancient magical books and a large hourglass. As Simon lifted his head slightly and watched, confused, Valdez picked up the antique timepiece and tipped it on its side, shifting the pale sand within. Valdez gave a bark of hollow laughter and turned the hourglass over, so that sand began to fall through the tiny passageway and scatter about the bottom.

"Time. Time, time, time," he intoned in a barely audible voice, seemingly to no one in particular. Simon merely stared at him. "It's a precious commodity, Simon, yet is a friend of no man. Least of all, someone who isn't a man, not really."

Without warning, Valdez slammed the hourglass onto the desktop and whirled around, livid. "Look at me," he hissed as Simon cowered. He pointed to his face. "I'm nothing but a living mass of hideous scars and discolored tissue and it's his fault. I've grown tired of waiting; I want Madison before me, now! I want to kill him myself so that I may show the world that Raphael Valdez will rise again, more powerful and terrible than before and that the Visionary Coalition cannot be defeated. With the boy alive, the Loyalists still have something to believe in. With him dead, they will fall before me like paper tigers!"

Simon nodded. "Yes sir," he said. "What is our next move?"

Valdez considered this for a moment. "We will speed the process along." He pointed his hand, palm up, toward the Orb on his desk. As he raised his hand, the crystal ball rolled from side to side slightly, then began to rise. It hovered in mid-air, spinning slowly on an invisible axis. "Look." Simon moved forward to have a better view, limping slightly due to the cramps in his legs. In the crystal, silhouetted in the white mist, Scott Madison came into view. The boy was asleep in his bed, his hands pillowed innocently under his chin. A thin line or drool escaped from his mouth; his breathing was slow and deep.

"He's sleeping. Of wh-what use is this to us?" asked Simon.

If Valdez heard his second's question, he didn't acknowledge it. "Ah, yes, Madison. Sleep," he whispered softly. "You'll need it." He touched the sphere with one long bony finger. "Sometimes, it becomes necessary to take certain steps to ensure a plan's success. Scott Madison will indeed fall under Miss Laughlin's charms." He peered into the Orb, focused solely on the sleeping boy. Slowly, he raised his left hand over the reddish-amber crystal and intoned, " _Somnus imago...Suavis imago aetaluta_."

Simon Spellman chuckled. He knew exactly what type of spell had just been cast; he had invented it. It was very difficult to pull off, unless, of course, you happened to be Raphael Valdez. Grinning evilly as he looked into the Orb, he knew it would be only a matter of time before the spell took effect. Within minutes, Scott no longer looked entirely peaceful....

***

Later that night, as Scott and Tessa slept, they dreamed:

"Touch me."

"But..." I—"

"I want you to." A soft, smooth hand reached for one more callused and rough and pressed it tightly to a bare breast. Gooseflesh rippled across chilled skin, the lovers' lips met once more, lingering, tasting, and taking delight in the sensations. A request was whispered; a warm blanket appeared. The young lovers fell to the ground together, oblivious to the night air and the crickets that chirped nearby. They were alone together in a forest glen; mosquitoes and a bubbling brook their captive audience.

"Please," she whispered. Scott's hand slipped down the smooth skin beneath her bellybutton and came to rest just above the small patch of wiry hair. He heard her breathing change. It was now shallower, expectant. "Do you want this?" Teasingly he allowed his index finger to slide downward, over the bone and lower.

"Please," she whispered, more desperate now. "What was that? I didn't hear you." The finger flicked against her, swiftly, against the most sensitive area of her entire body and she shuddered. "Please," she said again. "Please...you know what I want!"

"This?" he added a finger and continued to stroke her, the movements light yet insistent.

"Yes," she squeaked. She thrust her hips forward, bucking against his hand.

"So you like this?" Another finger. Another stroke. "YES!"

Scott's fingers plunged into her; she moaned softly and spread her legs wider for him. He closed his eyes and rested his head into the crook of her neck as he worked, his breath against her skin shallow and quick. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she reached for him. Her mouth met his chest; her lips brushed against his hardened nipples, sucking them gently and he sighed. His index and middle fingers slick, he stroked her tortured skin on either side... up, then down, then up again. She shuddered in his arms, the pleasure overwhelming her. He quickened his pace, the pressure of his fingers' movements against her growing, her mewling noises becoming louder, until she pulled his face to hers with one free arm, desperate to find his mouth with her own.

Scott could almost feel her hands as they caressed his face, stroked the flat plane of his chest and working downward, until his breath caught in his throat and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt her lips on his chest. Her mouth was warm and firm and caressed him in ways he had never experienced in his life. Scott began to moan softly. Who was she? He felt somehow uncomfortable that he was making out with someone whose name he couldn't remember. Had she told him what her name was at some point? _I'd better remember it quickly, he thought, or she's going to be mighty pissed_ _off_!

He had had several sexual dreams like this one, but never so realistic. He became suddenly aware of his body responding to her touches and kisses. He squeezed his eyes shut as he cried out, "Who are you?"

The mystery woman didn't answer him; she just continued with her task. As her lips moved up his body, his eyes opened as he gazed at the brown-haired girl. "Who are you?" he asked again, this time more forcefully.

She met his gaze and smiled. "Don't you like what I'm doing to you?" Being the eighteen-year old that he was, and knowing at least on a subconscious level that he was dreaming, he answered her. "Oh yes," Scott nodded, "very much."

He crushed the girl to himself and kissed her deeply. Running his hands through her hair, over her shoulders and her breasts, he caught the sound of rustling in the lilac bushes and got the feeling that they were not alone.

Stiffening, he broke the kiss and turned his head. The brown-haired girl looked panicked. "No Scott, look here, only here," the girl pleaded with him, trying to draw his attention back to her.

He was not moved. He extricated himself from the girl and stood up, pulling up his boxers. "Who's there?" he called.

"Please come back to me! I need you," the girl pleaded with him.

"I have to be...you and I have to—"

Scott didn't respond to her pleas. He strode over to the lilacs, where he thought he had heard the noise. Pulling them back, he saw— Nothing.

Bemused, Scott turned away from the lilacs and, once again, looked at the mystery girl. He was dismayed to see her crying. Rushing to her side, he did his best to console her. "Don't cry," he whispered over and over. He put his arms around her and she placed her head on his shoulder, still sobbing.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. This wasn't my doing...I had no choice!"

"What wasn't your doing?" Scott asked her, holding her shoulders.

"This," answered the girl. She pulled away from him so that she could look him straight in the eye. She opened her mouth and said...

...And the dream ended. Scott stirred in his sleep and gradually awakened, disgusted to see that his sheets were no longer clean. "Oh, shit!" he whispered fiercely, trying to clean the mess quickly. "I was enjoying that dream, too."

***

Valdez and Spellman hovered about the Orb, watching Scott's eventful sleep. At first he looked peaceful, then agitated, then almost confused, and then panicked. Then, all at once, he looked as if he had just won the Super Bowl. A smile played across Spellman's lips, as he was familiar with what Scott was experiencing. He rubbed his hands in delight as he saw Scott struggle to a sitting position, slightly flushed and breathing heavily. Convinced that Valdez would indeed be pleased with the results of the spell, he was aghast to see Valdez's red eyes flashing with burning anger.

"No!" shrieked Valdez, waving his hand over the Orb and causing it to go dark. "How dare she?"

"She—who?" asked Spellman. "What happened just now?"

"Somehow, the girl infiltrated his dream, despite the spell I cast," Valdez complained, his voice like fingernails scratching across a blackboard. "She almost let the plan slip! That can't happen. Spellman," he growled, summoning the bald man to his side, "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

"N-no," Simon cried. "I had no idea!" Valdez grabbed his second by the shirt collar. "I want you to find a way into Briarwood tonight. I want you to teach Tessa Laughlin what happens when she dares interfere with my plans. Do whatever you wish to the girl, but see to it that she is unmarked afterwards," he growled. He pushed the smaller man away, his eyes demonic. A petrified Spellman nodded and bowed.

Day One

Tessa sat bolt upright in her bed, covered her mouth and fought an urge to vomit all over the clean white blankets of Briarwood's infirmary. Her head swam and she could barely focus. _Did I just do what I think I did? Did Scott and I—? No—it had to be a dream,_ she thought. But it had seemed so real. She could still feel Scott's body under her fingertips and if she imagined hard enough, the taste of his mouth as he had rained kisses upon her lips. She had liked it; the fact made her uncomfortable. Seduce Scott, sure. Give him a few kisses in order to get him to the cove just beyond Pottle Point, fine. But make love to him? The dream had been powerful and convincing and despite the situation she had rather enjoyed herself.

"No!" Tessa said. "I won't ever do that!"

"You won't ever do what, dear?" said a matronly voice from across the room. It was the school nurse, carrying a tray of what looked to be oatmeal, toast and hot chocolate with whipped cream on top.

"Oh, n-nothing," stammered Tessa. "I had a nightmare, that's all." She accepted the tray. Having had nothing at all to eat since lunch the previous day, she tore into the oatmeal, scooping it into her mouth as fast as she could.

"Now, now, Therese," soothed the nurse, "Take your time with your food. It's not going anywhere! We don't want you getting sick on your first day here!"

Tessa stopped eating mid-chew and consulted the wall clock above her bed. It read seven-thirty. "Nuts!" she cried, swallowing her oatmeal and scurrying out of bed. "I'm going to be late and I came here last night in a nightgown. What am I going—?"

The nurse placed a hand on Tessa's arm. "Calm down, dear. Shoshana Lieberman brought you a change of clothes in case you felt well enough to go to class." She reached into the bureau and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater. She handed them to Tessa. "Don't worry yourself over nothing. You won't be late. Your first class isn't for another thirty minutes," she told the shaking girl.

Tessa relaxed as she untied the hospital robe and changed in the borrowed clothes. Once dressed, she thanked the nurse, who advised her she should take it easy for the next few days. Tessa raced into the hall and toward her first class, trigonometry. Rounding one corner, then another, she was making good time when, without warning, she crashed directly into another student.

Hitting the ground with a thud, she looked up, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her palm. A heavyset boy with thick blond hair looked down at her. "You're new," he said. Instead of offering to help her to her feet, he placed his hands behind his back and continued to smirk at her. Tessa decided immediately that she didn't like him.

"So I am; big deal. I'm an exchange student."

The boy laughed. Slowly, he pulled a pack of Pall-Malls from the pocket of his jacket. He looked around and, seeing nobody pulled a cigarette from the pack, flicked open a lighter and lit it. As he blew a smoke ring, he pointed to Tessa's books, which lay strewn all over the corridor. "Those are your books, huh?"

"Have I reached the secretary for the office of stupid questions? Of course they're mine. I dropped them when you ran into me!" Tessa reached for the nearest book, scowling the entire time. "A nice person would help me," she hinted.

"I don't believe I've ever been called nice." The boy blew a second smoke ring and tossed his cigarette pack into Tessa's book bag. "Most people call me by my name, Alan Garvin."

Tessa noticed Alan's jacket. It bore the colors of the Briarwood Bulldogs: scarlet and silver. A varsity letter adored the left side. "You're on the football team. You're going to get in trouble with those cigarettes," Tessa said, inclining her head towards the Pall-Mall in Alan's hand and reaching towards her trigonometry book.

"Doubtful," Alan said. "Nothing sticks to me. Of course, having some family ties around this joint goes a long way towards maintaining that image," he added, kicking the textbook out of her reach.

"Stop that, Teflon-boy! You're going to make me late," Tessa said angrily, jumping to her feet and brushing the dust off her jeans. She pulled the crumpled cigarette packet out of her bag and held them at arms' length. "I don't want these. Take them back!"

"You're not going to be late. The room's right there," Alan said, pointing to room 101 and ignoring her comment about the smokes. The sound of approaching footsteps startled him and he tossed his half- smoked butt into the water fountain as he looked past Tessa.

"But I don't want a cigarette," he cried in a loud voice. "Quit trying to force me to take one!"

"What the heck are you talking about?" Tessa asked. "These are your—"

"So d'you think that Hartford Prep's got a decent team this year?" Eric asked.

"Nope," answered Scott. "A bunch of their best players graduated last year. Coach went to one of their scrimmages last week and said that that they looked sluggish. None of them could complete a pass."

Scott, Eric and Mallory were making their way up the corridor towards trigonometry class. The boys thought they were moving at a rather good pace, although not quite as fast as Mallory would have liked, judging by the fact that she was several steps ahead of them. They knew that, as much as she detested Dr. Butler, Mallory loved trigonometry and made it a point to be not only on time, but also a few minutes early. Scott and Eric, on the other hand, had no aptitude whatsoever for the class, and wished desperately that their friend would go slower.

The smell of cigarette smoke assailed their nostrils as they turned the corner to trigonometry class. "That's gotta be Garvin," Scott muttered. "I hope that someone finally nabs that jerk. I'd love to see him kicked off the team."

"Uh, guess again," Mallory said, pointing.

"What do you think you're trying to do—get me suspended?" Alan said in a loud voice, raising his arms theatrically.

"You're full of crap," a girl answered, thrusting a small package toward him. Alan responded by shoving her, the force causing her to fall backward and land on her rear-end.

"That's the new girl that came in late last night," Mallory said. "You guys didn't get a chance to meet her. I wonder what she's done to piss Garvin off?"

"Probably looked at him wrong," Scott answered. In a louder voice, he called over to Alan. "What's going on here?"

Alan Garvin's eyes left the girl and fixated on Scott. "None of your business, Madison!"

"Are you all right?" Scott ignored Alan and knelt next to Tessa, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. He heard the feet of others now, probably teachers and other students, coming to see what was going on.

The girl turned to Scott and blinked. Her blue eyes widened. "I think that I'm okay," she whispered as she stared. Scott's mouth went dry and he felt as if a jolt of electricity had passed through him. The girl on the floor before him looked exactly like the girl from his dream the night before, right down to the blue eyes and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Had his dream been an omen of some kind?

He knew he was gawking; the girl looked at him quizzically. "This is going to sound strange, but you look familiar. Have we met someplace before?" Scott asked.

"I don't think so," she replied, her voice careful and quiet. "My name is Therese Robichaud. I'm an exchange student from Wellington. Who are you?"

Scott smiled and blushed. "I'm Scott Madison." He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. "Um, do you like movies?" Once the words were out of his mouth, he fought the urge to bang his head repeatedly against something hard. Of all the things to say to her _! Note to self_ , Scott thought, _try to keep your stupid questions to a minimum!_

To his pleasant surprise, however, Therese smiled at him. "Yes I do," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...." Scott wasn't quite sure of what to say. He was certain that she was going to think him a nut-job if he told her that they'd screwed each other senseless in his sick, twisted, sexual fantasies. "I just thought—"

A person clearing his throat spared Scott from making a pathetic response. He sighed. Scott turned around and faced Dr. Butler, who stood behind him, a scowl on his face, arms on his hips. To Butler's right, Scott saw Mallory and Eric. Both looked livid, and Eric was shaking his head and mouthing swearwords.

Dr. Butler didn't address Scott right away, instead focusing his attention on Therese, who crumpled the cigarette packet in her fist.

"Miss Robichaud. Causing problems in this school on your first day here, hmmm?" he asked.

"Um, no sir," she answered, red-faced, "no trouble at all." She took a step behind Scott and looked at her shoes.

"Then what's that in your hand?" Dr. Butler asked. Tessa froze, the pack of Pall-Malls still in her hand. "These aren't mine. They're—" Tessa thought wildly, trying to come up with a decent excuse. It appeared to her as if Dr. Butler had changed little since her days at Briarwood, "someone else's."

"What she means to say, sir, is that they're Alan Garvin's," Scott spoke up. "He shoved them into her bag when he heard us coming in the hall. He must've thought that we were you and didn't want to get caught."

Butler's eyes narrowed. "Why am I not surprised that you'd say that? You like nothing better than to see him kicked off the team. You can't stand to have to share the spotlight with him."

Scott scowled. He knew that it was pointless to argue. He might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Alan Garvin was Dr. Butler's nephew, and the teacher always favored him over anyone else. Not wishing for trouble, Scott decided to keep his mouth shut.

"Briarwood has very stringent rules concerning the use of alcohol and tobacco, Miss Robichaud," said Dr. Butler. "Why, if I chose, I could have you suspended."

Scott looked behind himself and was surprised to see Tessa opening her mouth to speak. He raised a hand and shook his head to silence her, but it was too late.

"But that's not fair! I didn't do anything," sputtered Tessa with indignation.

The hallway became eerily quiet. The students' eyes widened in surprise. Nobody spoke back to Dr. Butler, even if they were in the right. He was not a man to be messed with. Alan Garvin looked excited, as if he couldn't wait to see the harsh punishment that his uncle would dole out.

"Miss Robichaud, I'd advise you to hold your tongue. Alan, take these tests down to my classroom and don't even think about looking at them." Dr. Butler thrust a stack of stapled test booklets into the student's hand. Alan obliged, albeit half-heartedly. Scott knew that he was angry because he wouldn't be able to watch Butler yell at him. Ever since Scott had earned the coveted position of Briarwood's starting quarterback, Alan Garvin had seen fit to make his life a living hell. Once on decent terms, the popularity and prestige that came with being on the football team had destroyed any chances at friendship between the two.

Tessa recalled how scared of Dr. Butler she had been she was younger and reminded herself that she was older, more seasoned and more outspoken than she had been when she was fifteen. She momentarily forgot herself and her reason for being at the school; she forgot that her chances for success were better if she just blended in with the crowd and didn't draw attention to herself; she couldn't help herself.

"I didn't do anything here! I just was coming down the hall, minding my own business when that kid decided to be a smug little prick and—"

"SILENCE!" roared Butler. The students took a large step backward, and Garvin whirled around, stunned. Usually Dr. Butler commanded respect with his voice. He never yelled; he never had the need. Students were too frightened to talk back to him. Except now.

"Somebody here needs to learn to keep her mouth closed. I believe you will learn the lesson tonight in detention," Butler growled. Tessa rolled her eyes. Detention was the last thing she needed. She could feel everyone looking at her, including Scott.

As Butler proceeded to herd his charges into the dank trigonometry classroom, Scott exclaimed in a whisper, "What'd you do that for? I mean, it was awesome to watch, but now you've got detention with the Doc!"

Tessa shrugged her shoulders. "He picks favorites, and it's not right," she said. "Someone had to say it."

Scott grinned at her. "You have a lot of balls, that is, for a girl! Why don't you join Mallory, Eric and me at our table today?" he asked as they entered the classroom.

Tessa smiled at him. "I thought you'd never ask!"

***

Tessa sat at her desk, very much aware that Scott was watching her. She could feel Scott's eyes on her as she scribbled note after note on the subject of quadratic equations. On an odd level, Tessa wanted to learn something; the experience was almost like a second chance. She remembered how low she felt years ago when she had been a miserable trigonometry student.

On the other hand, she was painfully aware of her task and the risks contained therein. She was relieved that she had already met Scott and that he seemed to be interested in her, at least in a friendly way. It would make everything easier.

She sighed. Tessa wished that Raphael Valdez had chosen someone else or that he had died in that fire all those years ago. It would have made her life easier. There were hundreds of Scarlet Guardsmen he could have chosen from; all were intelligent, cunning and exceptionally gifted magically. Why had Valdez chosen her to participate in his sadistic plan? Was his explanation of quid pro quo his only motivator, or was there something more to the story? Whatever it might have been, Tessa wished that she could go back in time and warn her parents. _I wonder what my students are doing without me_ , she thought. _Did Shelby win her pageant?_ Just last week she had purchased a piano reduction for the music to Lawrence of Arabia for the girl to try. Unconsciously, Tessa began to hum the main motif. _The scales in the left hand were going to be murder to play at the intended speed_ , she thought, _but with a little practice and some cleverly notated fingerings she would certainly_ —

"Um, Therese?" She turned toward Scott and Eric, who were staring at her with confused expressions. "Class is over. It's time to go," said Eric.

She blushed. "I was humming aloud, wasn't I?" she smiled. The boys nodded.

Mallory, who had just finished packing her book bag, commented, "I think I recognized that from somewhere. It was in a movie, I think." "Yes, it was," said Tessa brightly. "It's from the film _Lawrence of Arabia_. That's one of my favorite films of all time! I love the music."

"My grandmother likes _Lawrence of Arabia_ too. I've had to sit through it a dozen times at least," Mallory said. She and Tessa continued to chat about the movie as the group made their way out of the classroom and into the cafeteria. As the group sat down to a sumptuous meal of pork chops, mashed potatoes, peas and baby carrots and rice pudding, Mallory reached into her book bag and pulled out a copy of the _Daily Telegram_ , the regional newspaper. She turned to the back page, the comics, to read while she ate.

Tessa was chewing her pork chops when an office aide tapped her on the shoulder. "This came for you this morning." A knot of dread filled her stomach; she took a deep breath and willed herself to remain calm. She thanked the aide, took the envelope in trembling hands and opened the flap with her butter knife. In the middle of the paper read a cryptic message:

You will meet me at ten o'clock tonight in Room 411. Do not be late. Do not be seen, or your parents will suffer.

Tessa crumpled the note in her fist and shoved the unsigned message into her pocket. It was obvious who was behind the message and what it concerned. Her stomach cramped with fear. She looked around the table and noticed that Scott, Mallory and Eric were looking at her with concerned expressions. She shook her head slightly and willed herself to remain calm. The people at her table couldn't know what was going on. She had to hold it together for the sake of her loved ones.

Forcing a smile she said, "My parents! They were worried about me when they didn't hear from me last night." Her explanation seemed to be believable enough; they smiled back at her.

"I know what that's all about!" Eric grinned. "You should've been here our sophomore year when Scott and I intentionally missed the bus back to Briarwood after a field trip. We wanted to see the world a little. Turned out to be quite a trip—we hitched a ride with a religious guy who was hauling baby food across country. He kept trying to convert us. Scott faked sick and the guy pulled over at a gas station so Scott goes and pukes, except Scott called the Headmaster to come and get us instead. We got two months' detention for that. My head still hurts from my mother screamin' at me!"

The boys laughed. "You should've heard it," Eric continued. "Once my mother gets her underwear in a twist about something she just keeps going and going."

A severe look from Mallory caused Eric's smile to diminish. "You were lucky the school chose not to expel you!" she admonished.

"We know, Mallory," said Scott, his face a picture of choirboy innocence. "We'll never break a school rule again," he added, holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor!" He turned to Tessa and winked as he crossed the fingers of his other hand behind his back. Mallory saw it and rolled her eyes.

"Boys!" she snorted.

Finished with the comics, Mallory turned to the front page and caught a glimpse of the main headline. "Wow," Mallory exclaimed after a few seconds. "There's an entire family missing. According to the Guard, it looks like Valdez supporters were involved."

Scott and Eric's interest was piqued right away, but not nearly as much as Tessa's. Was it _her_ family the paper was talking about? Mallory cleared her throat and began to read:

...Late last night local officials determined that intruders kidnapped the family at sixty-eight, Tallyrand Court, Covington. Signs of a struggle were apparent in the kitchen, master bedroom and summer garden, where investigators discovered the decapitated body of Spanky, the family's Yorkshire terrier. Also found during the investigation of the summer garden was a gold rhinestone headband, presumably belonging to Tessa Laughlin, daughter of Scarlet Guard members Michael, 53 and Linda Laughlin, 50. Those trying to piece together a timeline of events suggest that Miss Laughlin was on her way to the annual Loyalist banquet when she was taken, due to the fact that an invitation to was found in her second floor bedroom. Records of attendance from last evening's banquet attest that she didn't sign the guest register, also indicating that she never made it to the event.

"What is suspicious," said Carl Forester, Head of the Scarlet Guard, "is that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Laughlin showed up for the dinner. It's not like them to miss such an important event. Their daughter, however, was not on the official invitation list. Her invitation appears to be a forgery."

When asked if the department had begun an official investigation, Forester asserted that a search had already begun. Tessa Laughlin, a music specialist at Covington Piano Studio, is five feet, eight inches tall with a medium build, short, wavy brown hair and blue eyes. Michael Laughlin is six feet one inch tall with brown hair, blue eyes, glasses and a beard. Linda Laughlin is five feet, six inches tall with blue eyes and blond hair. Older readers of this paper will no doubt recall that Michael and Linda Laughlin were instrumental in hindering earlier attempts made by Raphael Valdez to overthrow..."

Mallory stopped reading and put down the paper. "That's terrible...those poor people. There's a picture, too. Do you suppose Raphael Valdez had anything to do with this?"

Scott looked shaken. "There's no doubt. Those people are just the first in what's going to be a long line of kidnappings. I can feel it. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

Tessa felt as if her heart would stop. "C-can I see the picture, Mallory?" she squeaked, holding out one hand. Mallory gave it to her and Tessa peered at the photo. Tessa recognized the photo; her family posed for it at the last Christmas Ball. Her father and mother looked stunning in their cocktail finery: her father in a white shirt, black pants, and black cummerbund, her mother in a strapless red gown with a daring slit up the side and Tessa in a short, strapless black dress. She had only worn the thing once; her boobs had kept popping out of the top and she couldn't charm it to fit her correctly.

Tessa remembered how much fun that evening had been, despite her dislike of social gatherings. Her then-boyfriend, Andrew Wheeler, had stood her up that evening to go to a friend's stag party, leaving her to attend the ball alone. She had vehemently contended that she wasn't going to go but her parents insisted that she do. She was glad that she had. Tessa remembered the ball as being a lot of fun and she had danced with tons of handsome guys, some a lot cuter than Andrew had been!

_So the invitation had been a fake_ , Tessa thought, _a trick to get my family and me out of the house and into the clutches of the Visionary Coalition_. She wondered how long they had been planning the act. _My parents fell for it too.... And they killed my dog!_ Tessa's eyes stung with tears. She realized that she was clutching the newspaper tightly in her hands, crinkling it beneath her fingers. Aware that she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears much longer, she rose from the table, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and handed the newspaper to Mallory.

"Therese, are you okay? Why are you crying?" asked Scott.

"Oh...well, I-I feel bad for that family," Tessa said weakly. "Their families must be wondering where they—they are. Excuse me, please," she said quickly, fleeing from the table.

Eric, Scott and Mallory watched her exit. "What a weirdo," commented Eric. "Seems to be one card short of a full deck!"

"No kidding," agreed Mallory.

Scott got up from his chair. "I'm going to check on her and see what's the matter." Mallory shook her head. Could his infatuation with the new girl be any more obvious?

***

Tessa's footfalls echoed through Briarwood's empty hallways as she rushed out of the cafeteria, tears streaming down her face. She ran without direction, up a flight of stairs, down a long, dark corridor and then up a smaller flight of stairs where, finally, she slumped against a wall, buried her head in her arms and wailed.

The Scarlet Guard had begun a search. She had known that they would. The Guard looked out for its own; it always had. This brought Tessa a small measure of comfort but, on the other hand, if the Guard located her parents before she managed to coerce Scott to the glen, she might lose any chance of seeing her parents alive again. After all, no plan, even those of the Scarlet Guard was foolproof; the Visionists would probably execute her right along with her folks!

The idea that she might be dead in a few days made her cry harder. If she didn't have enough to deal with, she had the added honor of detention with Dr. Butler and a meeting with someone working on behalf of Valdez to look forward to later on. She couldn't determine which would be the worse meeting. She didn't have time to fool around with detentions; she needed to be working on Scott.

"I'm going to have to learn to control that damned temper of mine," she cursed. After crying for a few more minutes, she stood up on shaky legs and wiped her eyes. _Being a human hosepipe isn't going to do me any good_ , she thought _. I may as well give up on that_! She blew her nose, straightened her sweater, turned in the direction she had come and bumped into Scott Madison himself.

"I didn't hear anyone coming," she said, wiping her eyes.

"I'm not surprised," Scott offered. "I could hear you crying at the base of the stairs. What's the matter with you?"

Tessa said the first thing that came to her mind. "Uh, I'm homesick."

"You're going to have to get over that. The next vacation isn't until Thanksgiving." He looked up at the clock in the hall. "Shit, it's later than I thought! Come on, we're going to be late for science if we're not careful," he advised her. He offered her a tissue. "Your eyes are wicked red, you know. You've only been here one day, and you say you're homesick, but that can't be the only reason you're in tears."

Tessa gave a small smile. "You wouldn't understand, Scott. No one would understand this."

"Try me," Scott asked. He took her hand as they headed down the hallway. His act of compassion moved her.

"I-I can't. Let's just say I've made a 'Devil's Deal' and I'm wishing I could get out of it with no harm done." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face with her free hand.

"Nothing can be that bad," Scott told her. "Are you sure you're not blowing things out of proportion?"

Tessa felt an urge to tell him her complete story. She had only harbored her secret for twenty-four hours and already felt as if she was going to burst from the stress. But she knew that somehow Valdez was watching. She bit her lip.

"Let me give you a hypothetical," she said, turning her head so that she could look directly at Scott. "Say you had to do something that you didn't want to do, but in the end it would benefit you. Would you do it?"

"Well, that's easy," Scott said easily. "I'd do it. It's like eating lima beans. Sure, they taste like shit, but you know they're going to give you better eyesight, or hearing, or some such crap. At least, that's what adults will say. Is that what you mean?"

Tessa laughed, full and throaty as she had heard movie actresses do when they were trying to be sexy. She hoped that it made Scott want to melt right where he was and perhaps need to think about football for a moment or two.

She mentally congratulated her success when Scott spoke. "I take it no," he squeaked, blushing.

"Not really," Tessa affirmed. "I mean, you have to do something that will end up being good for you, but not for everyone else. And you don't want to do it, but your positive result would be so good that you're torn between doing it and not. What would you do?"

"That's tough. I've never been in that predicament. I guess what I'd do would depend on lots of things. I mean, when you say that things for everyone else won't be good, what do you mean?"

Tessa knew she couldn't say any more. She could almost feel Valdez's eyes staring at her, could almost hear his order to execute her parents. All at once, Tessa realized how to get Scott away from the safety of the school. The dream had shown her the way—she'd have to seduce him. She'd hate herself forever, but she couldn't think of any other way to accomplish her nearly impossible task. Instead of answering him, she moved closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Nothing. Forget about it. You're so sweet. You are such a good listener."

Scott smiled at her a little uncertainly. "Um, thanks," he said, taking a small step backward when Tessa moved toward him. She continued moving closer to Scott. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself close to him. She knew he could feel the shape of her when she stood this close to him. She could feel him too. Solid and muscular. He smelled soapy and clean, like a little boy. _Which,_ she thought to herself, _he is, at least compared to me_.

She leaned in closer to Scott, and he was soon against the wall with nowhere else to go. Tessa could feel the beginnings of his erection pressing on her lower abdomen and a flood of embarrassment coursed through her. His face was beetroot red and she knew that he was just as aware of this fact as she was. His arms hung uselessly at his sides and he was nearly rigid in her arms.

_This isn't fair_ , she thought miserably. _He should be experiencing this with some young girl his age, not me!_ Nevertheless, she knew she had a job to do and if it saved her parents, she'd do it, no matter what. She moved her hands from his waist to his face. Cupping his face, she brushed her parted lips against his. Scott didn't respond. She broke the kiss and pulled away from him a few inches, so that she could look into his eyes. He didn't meet hers.

_Coo-coo ca choo, Mrs. Robinson...._ The visual image the song conjured sickened her. Realizing she could no longer continue with her task, Tessa backed slowly away from him. "I'm sorry, Scott. I shouldn't have done that. Please, forgive me." With that, she ran from him, down the hall and out of sight.

Scott stood still for several moments afterward, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Once he was sure he had calmed down a bit, he followed her, considerably more confused than before.

~5~

Questions

When Tessa peeked around the corner from the stairs leading to the girl's dormitory later that evening, she saw Scott, Mallory and Eric sitting in the corner of the common room, studying their science homework and chatting softly to each other. _Darn it_ , she thought to herself _. I was hoping Scott wouldn't be here_.

Tessa had gone out of her way to avoid him after the afternoon's incident in the hall. She was embarrassed to think about what she had done and she knew that Scott was certainly confused about her behavior; probably upset too. With all the stealth she could muster, Tessa tiptoed softly through the doorway of the York dorm.

As she reached for the doorknob, she stepped on a creaky floorboard. Stopping where she was, she straightened up to her full height and took a cautious look over her shoulder. Two sets of eyes met hers. Scott was looking anywhere but where she was standing.

_Oh Scott, I wish I hadn't kissed you in the hallway today_!

"Heading out for detention with good ol' Doc Butler?" Eric asked good- naturedly. "We call him that behind his back because we know it pisses him off!"

"The Doc? Yeah," sighed Tessa, walking over to the table where the three students were sitting. "I'm probably the first student to ever get a detention on her first day! Maybe he'll forget all about it!" she offered hopefully, crossing her fingers.

"Therese Robichaud, you have a lot to learn about Butler," said Eric. "First off, he hates it when people call him 'Doc', so unless you want to live in detention for the next year, don't use that name to his face. As to forgetting your detention, it's not going to happen; he'll be there. He gets a kick out of detentions. It's kinda scary. I think he saves the nastiest chores for the juniors. He hates us!"

Tessa looked over to Scott, hoping he would smile, laugh, or do anything to break the tension, but instead he merely scribbled more notes. She frowned.

Mallory noticed the look and wondered what was going on between the pair. She knew she wouldn't have to wait long. Scott would certainly tell her or Eric if there was an issue. They'd been friends for years; they could almost read each other like books. Clearing her throat, Mallory asked, "Did Dr. Butler tell you what you'd be doing this evening and who with?"

Tessa shook her head. "He pulled me aside after dinner this evening and told me just to bring something to write with, so I'm guessing it's not heavy- duty cleaning. I would refuse to clean toilets!"

Mallory laughed.

"Anyhow, knowing my luck I won't be back until eleven or so. You'll probably all be asleep, so have a good night and I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

Mallory and Eric said their good-byes to Tessa, but Scott merely looked up at her with big hazel eyes. His expression was unreadable. Tessa's cheery smile died on her lips and her waving hand froze in mid-air as she saw his face. Sadly, she muttered, "Bye, Scott," and left the room without looking back.

The door had barely closed when Mallory's head snapped in Scott's direction. "Okay, Madison, spill it. This morning, you couldn't take your eyes off her and, just now, you treated her as if she had a bad case of head lice. What's going on?"

"Yeah," teased Eric. "Did you ask her out and get shot down?" He positioned his fingers like a gun and pretended to shoot himself in the chest. Clutching at himself, he proceeded to choke, gurgle, and slide slowly underneath the table. "Ahhhh, forever alone!"

Scott gave him a dirty look. "Funny Eric, real funny," Scott said, leaning over the area where Eric had slithered underneath the table. He grabbed a spare sheet of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it at Eric who ducked. Scott sat back down in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "There isn't anything wrong. I'm just a little confused about something."

"Does it have anything to do with a certain brown-haired girl?" asked Mallory with a laugh. When Scott didn't join in, the smile vanished from her face, replaced with a more serious one. "You're into her, aren't you?"

Scott chose to ignore her question. "What's with Therese, anyway? Doesn't she seem a little strange to you?"

Mallory thought of Dr. Butler and of Therese's behavior since arriving at Briarwood. "Yes," she said slowly. "She's a tough nut to crack, that's for sure. But she's new, and I'm sure that's not helping her situation at all."

"I mean beyond that, Mal. Therese said something to me today that was odd," Scott said. "Has she mentioned anything to you about a 'Devil's Deal'?"

Mallory thought for a moment then shook her head. "Nope, she hasn't said anything like that to me. But last night, I did overhear her crying in the bathroom. She was saying something like 'Why me?' and 'I'll do it.' Then I heard smashing glass. When I ran into the bathroom, she was sobbing on the floor and the mirror was broken. I can't be sure, and I certainly don't have a clue why, but I think she might have broken that mirror on purpose."

"Whoa," Scott said. "That's bizarre." His face reddened. "She kissed me today in the hall when we were on our way to science, right out of the blue."

Eric's face broke out into a grin as he slipped out from underneath the table. "All right, Madison! He shoots, he scores!" Mallory shot him a glare and Eric shut up. "Soooo," he added, "What did you do?"

"Um, nothing. I wasn't sure what I should do. It wasn't as if I expected it. I just sort of stood there and let her do it; I didn't exactly kiss her back."

"Christ, buddy, you were given a score on a silver platter and you choked!"

"Will you STOP?" Scott yelled. He stood up from the table. "Yeah, she kissed me. I didn't know what to do, all right? If you're going to make stupid comments about it all night, fuck off!" With that, Scott stormed out of the common room and slammed the door behind him.

"What was that all about?" Eric asked, surprised at his friend's actions. "I've never seen him act like that before. Not even over Mandy Keaton, and he's wanted to hook up with her for two years."

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear that Scott was in love!" Mallory exclaimed. "He couldn't be, though. Love at first sight isn't possible; everyone knows that. He's never struck me as the kind to fall hard and fast for someone. He never even tried to talk to Mandy until the week before the Valentine's Ball last February."

"Maybe he just thinks he has more in common with Therese now. I mean, it's not as if Mandy pays him any attention, Mallory. There's only so long a man can hold on to a dream, even if it is Mandy Keaton."

"Could be," Mallory agreed.

"I've never seen him go crazy over any girl like he did tonight. Therese must have a spell over him!" said Eric in wonderment. "I can't blame Scott. I mean, have you seen the pair on that girl? Ah, the French do it right." He sighed, his eyes glazing over as he stared into space.

Mallory raised her hand and gave him a well-deserved smack.

***

Tessa made her way down the chilly corridor and down the dark steps that led to Dr. Butler's classroom. She was thankful for the sweater she wore and hoped it wouldn't get any colder. She couldn't believe that she, a grown woman, was going to have to serve detention for something she didn't do. She had never served a detention as a Briarwood student, but she recalled stories of friends' detentions and shuddered. Her best friend in school, Cindy, had received a detention for turning in a paper that was two pages too short. Her punishment involved copying the dictionary and, after the punishment was complete, earned a place in Briarwood legend as the only student who managed to make it to the "B's" before being dismissed. Tessa cringed as she recalled the painful blisters on Cindy's hand from writing for hours.

Sarah, another friend of hers, had had to help the school nurse clean the infirmary bathroom. _Ugh_ , thought Tessa. _I refuse to do that_!

Presently, she came to room 101. Breathing deeply, she raised her hand to knock...

...And the door swung open.

Dr. Butler stood there, in all his malevolent glory. "Good evening, Miss Robichaud." He stared down at her, his dark eyes seemingly boring holes into her soul. "I was wondering whether or not you were going to show up."

Tessa said nothing, simply striding past him, her head held high in an arrogant pose, into the room. She could feel his eyes upon her as he allowed her to pass and take a seat at one of the front desks. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other appraisingly.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Tessa. Butler didn't answer her right away; instead, he walked to his desk and pulled out a heavy book. Carrying it in his slender hands, he strode over to Tessa's seat and dropped the book on her table with a loud thump. Tessa glanced at the cover. " _Webster's Dictionary_ ," she said coolly, looking Butler in the eye and raising an eyebrow. "I gather I'm copying from this, eh?"

"You have a firm understanding of the obvious, Miss Robichaud. You may begin copying at any time."

Tessa shook her head in disgust. Surely, you'd think he would've come up with a more original punishment after all these years! She thought as she pulled a pen out of her pocket and bent over the text, copying the definition of the letter "A".

***

Scott had been sitting on the steps leading to the trigonometry classroom for what felt like hours. He was stiff and sore and his butt was cold from sitting on stone steps. Still, it had been the only place he could think without being disturbed. Who, he wondered, would willingly head down to Butler's room? No one wanted to be within a mile of the Doc in class, let alone after hours. Therese had chosen the wrong person with which to serve detention!

_Therese_.

The name fell from his lips like a caress. Scott's mind seemed to turn to mush at the mere thought of her. She intrigued him and not only for her intellect. However, her behavior earlier that afternoon had disturbed him. One moment, she had been friendly and somewhat introspective; the next moment she was devouring him like a piece of meat. He was upset at her for what she had done to him and angry with himself for not responding to her. But who knew with women, right? If he'd responded to her advances, she'd probably have slapped him. And because he hadn't responded, maybe she thought he wasn't into her or something. And she'd still be mad at him. _Sometimes_ , Scott thought to himself, _it's better to avoid the crazy_.

He was confused and he needed answers. Scott stood up and gave a mighty stretch and yawn. He consulted his watch. It read 9:24. He walked down the stairs, approached Dr. Butler's classroom and peeked inside the door, which stood slightly ajar. Therese sat at one of the desks, diligently copying from _Webster's_. He grimaced; he could almost feel his right hand aching in remembrance of his own _Webster's_ detentions. Scott was a slow writer-he never made it past the definition of "A" before Dr. Butler would dismiss him with disgust.

As Scott watched her, he saw Therese's back stiffen. She sat up straight and turned around, staring directly at him, a look of surprise etched on her face. Then, composing herself, she put one finger in the air. _Wait_ , she mouthed. She turned back to her paper, put down her pen and raised her hand. "Dr. Butler? I've finished the definition of 'aardvark.'"

The trigonometry teacher looked up from the papers he was grading. "Do you wish to have a medal?"

"Uh, no. I was just wondering how much longer you intended to keep me here. It's nearly 9:30."

"You'll stay as long as I wish you to stay," he answered, sauntering over to her desk. He snatched the paper from the desk and looked at it with disdain. Then, without any warning at all, he tore it to pieces before her eyes. Scott could see the fury welling up inside of the girl. She's never had a detention in her life, he thought, or she'd have realized what he was going to do the second she finished writing. Scott knew from personal experience that Therese was fighting the urge not to jump across the table and slap the man stupid.

Dr. Butler threw the ruined scraps of paper across the desk in Tessa's direction. "Get the hell out of my sight, before I decide to give you an extra night of detention. Just because you're new doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. And say hello to Madison on your way out," he added sourly.

Scott groaned.

Not waiting to be told twice, Tessa grabbed her purse from the desk and threw it over her shoulder, disgusted. She exited the classroom quickly and soon met up with Scott, who had proceeded farther down the corridor. She walked alongside him without saying anything, or looking in his direction. She didn't know whether to be apologetic to him for what she had done to him that afternoon, or whether to be angry for the way he had treated her earlier in the evening. Scott solved the problem for both of them by speaking first: "Let's go someplace where it's quiet."

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you, that's why." His steps quickened, almost to a run.

"About?" She fought to keep pace, as she was two or three inches shorter than he was.

"You know what about."

"Can't we talk here?" Tessa asked.

"No."

"But it's quiet right here, and besides I have other places I need to be!"

Scott stopped mid-stride. He turned to Therese, his hazel eyes narrowed. "It's late. Where do you need to be?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she snapped. "I made a mistake today, that's all. I shouldn't have kissed you. I don't know why I did. End of story. Now if you'll excuse me..." She made to turn away.

Scott closed his eyes, breathed deep and counted to ten. Opening his eyes, he placed one hand on her shoulder and said, "It's okay about today." He looked Therese in the eyes and saw hurt and despair. He softened. "What's the matter? What's going on with you?"

"Scott, it's been a rough day for me. I've had more crap dumped on me in the last twenty-four hours than should be allowed by law. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and the real shit hasn't even hit the fan yet!"

Scott reached out to pat her arm, then thought better of it and withdrew his hand. "Let's talk about it. What's bothering you?"

"I can't tell you that. In fact, I've told you more than I probably should have and I'm not keen on finding out what the consequences of that are going to be."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Why are you so scared to say anything to me? I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"Trust me, I want to tell you, but I can't. The fates of a lot of people are at stake, and—" She stopped suddenly; her next words were sharp. "I can't tell you. Don't ask me again." The two were silent for a few moments.

"What's your favorite movie? Besides _Lawrence of Arabia_ , that is?" Scott asked, trying hard to change the subject.

"My favorite movie besides _Lawrence of Arabia_? Hmmm...I like a lot of movies." She paused, biting her lip and looking down at the floor. "I guess I'd have to say _Life is Beautiful_. You know, that foreign movie about the guy who gets shipped off to the World War II concentration camps with his little boy? He tries to keep the son calm about the whole situation by pretending it's all a game."

She sat down on a nearby bench. Scott sat down beside her. "So what's your favorite movie, Mister Madison," she asked, her lowered voice a dead-on impression of Dr. Butler. "Wait—let me—let me guess!" She put her finger to her chin in thought.

"You're never going to get it, Therese," Scott said pointedly.

"Shut up for a minute and let me think! Hmmm. Scott Madison would probably like something funny. Real life's serious enough, and going to see a comedy is refreshing. Am I close?"

Scott nodded, impressed. "How'd you know that?" he asked.

Tessa winked. "Woman's intuition," she said. "I think that, overall, you'd choose a comedy first, but you probably pretend to like romantic movies, because you're a guy and guys only take their dates to those for one reason."

Scott was even more impressed. He had heard some of the upperclassmen talking about that very topic just a week or so ago. They'd take their dates to the theater in Pottle Point and see what they referred to as a "chick flick," just so they could raise their odds of getting into their date's pants later on. Scott had laughed it off at the time, but now, looking at Therese's radiant face, he wondered if it worked.

"You'd laugh if you knew what my favorite movie was," Scott said.

"Try me," encouraged Tessa. "I told you mine. Now you have to tell me yours."

"Okay, it's Rocky Horror Picture Show."

Tessa's eyes widened "I never would have guessed that you'd be into that!" she said, giggling.

Scott looked away. "I knew you'd make fun," he said.

Tessa worked to become serious. "I like that movie too. The music is tremendous."

"You really do have a thing for movie music," he said softly, remembering her comments earlier in the day about _Lawrence of Arabia_.

Tessa was aware of the proximity between Scott and herself. His eyes met hers. _I'll not lean forward, I'll not_ , she told herself. _If this seduction is to work, he's going to have to meet me halfway. If I kiss him, I'm going to scare him off for good. But he's so cute, and he makes me feel—_

"Would you like to go into Pottle Point later this week and catch a show? The Aladdin might be showing a good movie we could watch."

Tessa snapped out of her thoughts. "A movie? Later this week? How much later?"

"How about this Saturday," Scott offered. "We could go then."

"No!" cried Tessa, startling Scott. "Why don't we go on Friday? We could get to know each other better without all the other students around to bother us." _In addition, prevent many senseless deaths when Valdez decides to claim what he thinks is rightfully his to claim_ , she thought bitterly

"We're not allowed off the grounds except for the weekends."

"'Allowed' is such a relative term," Tessa teased.

"You mean, sneak out?" Scott asked.

Tessa giggled in a way she hoped sounded mischievous. "Half the fun's not being caught."

"Cool." Scott smiled; it made Tessa forget he was only eighteen. "All right. Friday night it is. And I pick the movie," he added.

"It's a date!" Tessa said, sticking out her hand as if to shake on it. Scott took the proffered hand but instead of shaking it, brushed her knuckles with his lips. Tessa honestly thought she was going to melt into the floor. Her stomach fluttered in a way it had not done in quite some time. Scott had not relinquished his hold on her hand. He stared into her eyes and she into his. _He's determined not to do what he did earlier and freeze_ , she thought as she felt his lips press against hers. Tentatively she reached toward him, her hand caressing his stubble-less cheek. He drew a deeper breath at the touch and deepened the kiss, his right hand on her knee, his left against the bench at an awkward angle. Tessa felt his tongue against her lips, hesitant and unsure. She allowed herself to respond to him and to relax. The left hand left the top of the bench and brushed against her sweater.

As he continued to kiss her, she could feel him becoming more confident by the second and began to lose herself in the moment. His hand disappeared under her sweater, encountering her warm skin. _Oh_. She could feel his fingers inching upward, the tips reaching the bra she wore, grazing her nipples that, to her combined chagrin and surprise were rock hard. Sighing, she nuzzled his neck with her lips and tongue, causing Scott to moan when suddenly she heard it: the far away chiming of the clock in the bell- tower.

_Why do I care about the chimes? I'm enjoying what's going on here, and—oh no_! Agitated, Tessa sat bolt upright on the bench, causing Scott to fall forward and bump his nose on the railing. It was ten o'clock and she was to be in Room 411!

"Scott, I have to go!" She sprang to her feet and ran down the hallway, not looking back.

"I'll walk you!" he cried out to her, rubbing his nose. He stood up, but she was gone.

~6~

The Meeting in Room 411

Damn it, I'm going to be late, Tessa thought as she hurried through the corridors towards Room 411. She could hear Scott calling to her over the chimes of the Briarwood bells ringing the hour and, as much as she wanted to turn around and bring him with her, she knew that she couldn't. She also knew that there would be hell to pay for her tardiness.

Taking a sharp right, then a left, Tessa made her way quickly to an old staircase next to a large statue. Running up the steps as fast as she could and painfully aware of a stitch forming in her right side, she was out of breath as she stumbled onto the fourth floor and looked around for Room 411. She found it quickly—it was the first door on the right.

She grasped the circular iron handle on the oak door and pulled it open. She stumbled into the room and looked about. For a moment, she wondered if she had been the target of a sick joke. The cold room was seemingly empty except for some chairs, an archaic- looking telescope and some old newspapers and condom wrappers that littered the floor.

As she walked ahead, her footfalls echoing against the floor, she grew increasingly irritated. The note had specifically said ten o'clock. She could still have been with Scott! _Scott_.

His name alternately sent a shiver of delight up her spine and caused her blood pressure to rise. She hated herself for responding as she had to the sensation of his hands exploring her body, his fingers shyly brushing against her breast and the feel of his tongue on hers as they kissed. Despite his age, Scott Madison was the sexiest thing she had ever had the pleasure of kissing. She knew she couldn't fall for him; she was older than he was, and Scott was just eighteen! Her job was to deliver the boy to the head of the Visionary movement and that was her intention. Scott Madison was also the reason she was in the mess! If he hadn't done whatever it was he did to piss Valdez off all those years ago, her family would be safe. Her parents would be enjoying their retirement, worry free—maybe planting those rosebushes they'd always hoped—and she would be attending Shelby Snow's beauty pageant and watching the girl play brilliantly, all due to her tutelage.

Having a relationship with him would be like taking a fifth grader to the senior prom. _He's cute, funny and adorable. But not sexy...not sexy. You cannot fail; otherwise, you renege on the deal and your parents die. Then you'll die and it won't matter if you were in lust with Madison or not because you'll be DEAD_!

As if trying to clear the whole inner- struggle-within- herself away, she shook her head vehemently and kicked a nearby chair in frustration. "All right," she said to nobody in particular, "I'm here. What's going on?" There was no answer. Tapping her foot impatiently, Tessa placed her hands on her hips, looked to the ceiling and said, a bit louder, "Is this a fucking joke? If it is, it's not funny. I'm leaving! I have a ton of trigonometry homework to do and frankly, right now that sounds a lot more interesting than hanging out here and waiting for a visit from—"

At that precise moment, the old telescope to her right fell off its stand and crashed to the floor, causing her to cry out, startled. As the broken equipment rolled slowly away across the dusty brown rug, Tessa placed one hand against the wall and leaned against it, willing her heart to stop racing.

"I'm leaving," she said after several moments. "What a bunch of bullshit this turned out to be!" Turning on her heel, Tessa turned around and gasped. Simon Spellman, Valdez's second in command, stood directly in front of her, mere inches away, a leer on his face. She remembered the last time she had been alone with him and how he had said he wanted to take her for a "test run". Had Valdez not shown up when he did, Spellman would have been able to finish what he started. Her legs grew numb with fear.

"Stay away from me, Spellman!"

"Hello, Tessa. So glad that you got my note."

"Stay away! I mean it," Tessa said, stepping backward. "I'm not afraid of you," she added, hoping her voice hadn't quavered as much as she thought it had.

"There's no need to b-be, unless you choose not to do as I ask. Then you'd be wise to b-be scared out of your mind."

Tessa paled as she backed away from him. She looked around; trying to find something she could use to defend herself against the man: a chair leg, a pipe, anything at all. Unfortunately, the only objects within reaching distance were some condom wrappers on the floor.

"Fuck off! I'm not afraid of you, I said!"

"Such b-bold words," Spellman intoned softly, "from someone caught like a rat in a trap." He sauntered towards his prey with an annoying slowness. Her heart in her throat, Tessa backed away from him and met the far wall. Her nemesis regarded her with appraising eyes as he wet his upper lip with his tongue "Tall, mousy b-brown hair, fiery temper. Not the type of woman I'd n-normally associate with, but," he paused as he reached her and placed one hand on either side of her body, his palms flat against the wall, "when life hands you lemons, you have to m-make lemonade."

Simon looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her chest much longer than was necessary. "That's a nice looking sweater you're wearing. Can I t-talk you out of it?"

"Stop! Leave me alone! You're only acting as you are because your boss isn't here. I'd wager, if he was standing behind you, you'd be babbling like a baby, if your behavior the last time we were together was any indication," Tessa growled.

Leaning in close to Tessa's face, Simon spat at her, "You're in no p-position to be a wise-ass, Miss Laughlin! I recommend that you treat me a little more respectfully! Valdez isn't allowed on Briarwood grounds. P-people are everywhere, looking for him s-specifically. Nobody thinks to look for p-poor Simon Sp-Spellman. It's just you and me, darling! Now how's about a little kiss?"

"Go to hell!" Tessa yelled as loudly as she knew how and brought her knee up as quickly and as forcefully as she possibly could, aiming for Simon's groin.

Anticipating her attack, he sidestepped, grabbed her by one arm and threw her against the far wall. The wind momentarily knocked out of her, Tessa stared balefully at her captor and fought to catch her breath.

Simon shook his head as one might to a stubborn child. "Now that wasn't very nice. Give up, Miss Laughlin. I'm stronger and heavier than you are. You're not going to get p-past me. You're mine for the time b-being, and how long we spend together is e-entirely up to you. The longer you fight me, the longer we'll visit together. Valdez sent me to teach you a lesson and, little whore, it's one you sorely need," Simon intoned, his ice-blue eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don't call me that, you poor excuse of a man!" Tessa cringed and turned her head as Simon raised a clenched fist. For a moment, he didn't do anything, appearing to contemplate his next move. Tessa peeked through her fingertips, her eyes locking momentarily with his.

Finally, Simon brought down his hand. She could see the disgust in his eyes.

"You're p-pathetic," he whispered.

Tessa lifted her hands slightly, palms up, as a gesture of truce. "What does Valdez want from me?" she asked dully.

"Valdez didn't like the little dream invasion trick you tried last night and he wanted m-me to remind you that your p-p-parents desperately await your upholding of your side of the b-bargain."

"Dream invasion?" Tessa was confused. "I didn't invade anyone's dream! What the fuck is Valdez on, anyway?"

Spellman's eyes flashed. "Do you dare argue with Raphael Valdez? He is all-knowing, you miserable twat!"

Tessa flinched at the crude remark. She tried to make a break for it, thrusting her hands into his face and pushing him away, but Simon was too quick. Just as she managed to race past him, he grabbed her roughly from behind. He wrapped his arms around her upper arms and held her tightly as she screamed and kicked.

"P-please, Tessa. Where do you think you're going?" he spoke into her ear in an eerily calm voice. "Scream all you want, sweetheart. Do you think that I wouldn't have chosen the p-perfect room for this? This room used to be quite the p- popular hangout. Still is, if I had to harbor a guess. There's a reason all of the cool couples came up here for their various activities. Don't you get it?" He licked her neck; Tessa recoiled at the touch. "Nobody is going to hear your screams. Much to the delight of B-Briarwood's young lovers, Room 411 is a soundproof room and the nearest classroom in use is on the third floor. Seeing as it's after hours, you and I are quite a-alone up here, free to do anything we want, or, at least, what I might want."

Tessa's eyes widened in horror. She looked around the room, painfully aware that he was telling the truth: Room 411 was the most remote classroom in the entire academy. The room had no windows at all; no means of escape save the door, which she couldn't get to because Spellman was gripping her tight enough to cut the circulation in her arms.

"Let me go, asshole!" Tessa balled her hands into fists and tried to put up a fight but with her upper arms pinned, her hands flailed about uselessly.

"The longer you struggle, my darling, the longer I hold you. I'm b- beginning to think you like it. Might I say I'm incredibly turned on by all of this," he said in a velvety voice as he rubbed himself against her. "You're so tense! Just relax and go with the flow, darling. It's not as if you can do anything about it, after all."

_He's right, he's right, he's right... I can't stop him! He's stronger and heavier and I'm completely at his mercy_....

The idea came to her in a flash. She remembered a workshop that she her mother had forced her to attend a few years earlier, after Tessa had refused to follow the older woman's example and join the Scarlet Guard. 'Self- defense techniques for those with no training,' it had been called, or at least something to that effect. Tessa forced herself to remain calm and think about the moves she had learned. Given that her attacker was on top of her, it was difficult to do. It was coming to her now. Tessa could see the instructor in her head, could hear her words: "Your hands and elbows are not the only weapons in your arsenal. You have your legs, your feet, and your own head at your disposal. Keeping calm and collected in these situations can save your life." _I can't believe I am about to do this_ , Tessa thought.

Sickened, she leaned against Simon. Surprised, he relaxed his grip on her the tiniest bit. She shifted herself so that she was as close to him as she could possibly be. She heard him groan with delight behind her.

"You're loving this aren't you?" Tessa purred in what she hoped was a sexy voice. She could feel his cock, hard against her at the small of her back.

"You had b-better b-believe it," Simon answered.

"You have the most amazing body, Mr. Spellman. Do you mind if I do... _this_?"

Quickly, Tessa used her hand to reach back and grab the flesh of Simon's inner thigh. She pinched as hard as she could. His grip on her faltered and he screamed in pain. Tessa brought one of her knees up as far as she could and kicked backwards sharply, just a like a mule. She felt the heel of her sneaker connect with his knee.

"Fuck!"

Any grip that Simon might have had on Tessa was gone. She interpreted his weakness and allowed her heel to travel down her assailant's leg until she slammed it with great force into his instep. He fell to his knees. His eyes closed and he whimpered in pain. Tessa whirled around, clasped her hands tightly together and raised her hands far above her head. Then, with every bit of strength that she possessed, she brought her elbows down forcefully between Simon's shoulder blades. His back arched and he fell forward, continuing to curse. She sidestepped the livid man and raced for the door.

Before she was out of his reach, however, Simon's hand shot out and grabbed her ankle. Tessa fell forwards and hit the floor, twisting her ankle in the process. She could also taste blood in her mouth and she realized that she had bitten her tongue. She kicked at Simon's hand with her other foot as she attempted to get away. Although she knew that it would do her no good, Tessa yelled for help.

"Bitch!" Spellman pulled her closer to him. Both of his hands clamped over her ankles; he pulled her towards him. Tessa kicked out, but her actions did no good. The chances that Tessa would emerge from the encounter unscathed were quickly deteriorating and she knew it. If she didn't do something drastic, Simon was going to take her right there on the classroom floor.

She gasped as he straddled her, his eyes flashing with fury. "Get off me, damn it!" Tessa grunted, trying to twist her way out from underneath him. He swore but his grip remained tight. Even though she had a two-inch height advantage, he had at least one hundred pounds on her. The thought that eventually she would tire crossed her mind. It wasn't something she wanted to ponder.

"I've just about lost my p-patience with you. It's time you learned your p- place," he said, somewhat out of breath as he loomed over her and pinned her arms to the floor. Tessa could feel the tears tricking down her cheeks. "I was with Scott just minutes before I came up here—he knows where I was going!" she warned.

"How stupid do you think I am? Scott Madison knows nothing, and both you and I know it. You didn't tell him anything, b-because you'd know that, if you did, your p-parents' lives would be over!" Spellman laughed maniacally. "Once Scott finds out who and what you are, do you honestly expect him to be your savior? Valdez told me to leave you unmarked, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, now, will it?"

He raised his hand and slapped her. She cried softly, too exhausted to scream. Spellman stood up. "You're to b-bring Madison to the glen just outside of P-Pottle Point by midnight on Friday. If you fail, yours truly will kill your p- parents, directly in front of you. You will watch them die screaming for mercy."

"I'm going to do it," Tessa mumbled. "Madison's as good as his. Leave me alone," she whimpered. "Please."

"Come again?" Spellman placed a hand to his ear. "Did I just hear you say 'p-please'? I'm not sure I did, actually. Say it again, Tessa, and maybe I'll leave you alone."

"Please," Tessa begged. Weakly, she stammered it again: "P-Please. Just go."

Simon slapped Tessa once more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a knife. His face looming mere inches from hers, Tessa met his dark blue-gray eyes with her tear-filled Prussian blues. Simon placed the blade to her throat, nearly breaking the skin. Just above the gleaming silver of the blade, her pulse fluttered like a moth next to a flame.

He spoke once more, softly. "There had b-better be no more problems, or the next time I drop in for a visit, your b-beautiful face won't be quite so p-pretty."

"Y-Yes, okay" Tessa whimpered, even though she still wasn't sure what she had done to receive tonight's visit in the first place.

"Very well. I b-believe my work here is done." With a flick of his wrist, Simon sheathed his knife and pocketed it. He picked up his jacket. "You've overstepped yourself in disrespecting me. I'm not a man to be fucked with." He turned away.

Tessa responded dryly as she stood up. "That's the first sensible thing you've said all night! Look at that!" Spellman stiffened, then, without warning, he raising his left hand and backhanded her, hard. Tessa was out cold before she hit the floor.

"Someday you'll learn to keep that fat mouth closed," he said as he exited the room.

***

When Mallory came back from her study session a little before eleven o'clock, she was surprised to see Scott in the common room, sitting by the huge fireplace. He looked relaxed and pleased with himself; a small dreamy smile danced across his lips. She walked over to where he sat cross-legged on an overstuffed sofa and took a seat next to him. Scott made eye contact with her and immediately gave her a look reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself," she said. "Any particular reason as to why? As if I didn't know, that is."

His grin widened and he stretched mightily. "Boy, am I tired," he said, exaggerating a yawn. "I ought to head up to bed!"

Mallory laughed at him. He was definitely happier that he had been earlier. "Do tell me about what happened to you tonight! I take it someone had a productive evening," she teased.

Scott's enigmatic smile broadened. "I'll neither confirm nor deny that statement."

"Can I assume you're no longer upset with our current houseguest?" Mallory asked playfully.

Scott ran a hand through his brown hair. "You're not going to leave me alone about that, are you? Just like Eric. He needs a woman or something! I swear I was going to kill him earlier! "I've never felt this way about anyone. Therese's so smart and beautiful and funny. She's like no one I've ever met before. She's strange, too and mysterious, and seems to have tons of secrets. And besides, she's beautiful. Did I say that already? And can she ever kiss!"

Mallory made a gagging noise. "I think you need a cold shower."

"I dreamed about her last night," he added, his voice thoughtful. "I never thought a person could, you know, dream stuff like this. People do believe in it, though; look at Dr. Awan, for example. I'll have to pay more attention in Metaphysical Studies from now on."

"You dreamed of Therese? How? You hadn't met her yet," Mallory said in a cynical-sounding voice. "Don't you think it was maybe another type of dream?" She grinned evilly. "You know, the one that all the boys have when they come to the realization that the opposite sex isn't something to be frightened of anymore?"

Scott reddened. "No. This was the real thing. We were in a field of some kind. We had just gone to dinner."

"Were you dressed?" "Well of course we were, Mallory. I wore jeans and a shirt and, oh wait. I wasn't, actually. I mean, I had been and then I wasn't and no amount of money is going to make me tell you any more of this dream. The point is, the girl in my dreams was Therese. I know we're meant to be together." He adjusted the sleeve on his shirt. "I'm taking her out on Friday night."

"No, Scott! You can't do that, now that the Visionist movement has become active again! They've already taken that one family, remember—the one in the paper? You've got to know you're probably on top of their 'wanted' list. Reid won't let you out of his sight, and you know it. You need to stay here at Briarwood to be safe. Take her up to the Room 411. She'd like that!"

Scott's face darkened. "Since when do you make my decisions for me? I think I've proven more than once that I can take care of myself," he snapped. "Maybe I'd like to be more like everyone else."

Mallory apologized. "Just be careful," she cautioned him. Standing up, she yawned and wished him a good night.

***

Tessa awakened on the floor of room 411 several hours later, stiff and sore. She looked around, momentarily panicked that Spellman might still be in the room, his beady eyes trained upon her.

Instinctively, she brought her arms around her chest. She was freezing. Tessa turned over and tried to stand but failed in the attempt, landing unceremoniously on her backside. With grim determination, she crawled slowly towards her sweater, clutched it in shaking fingers and threw it over herself, still shivering.

Tired from the effort, she curled up on the debris-filled floor, huddled in a fetal position. There was one thing Tessa was certain of: she had to save her parents. She shuddered as she imagined what they must be going through. It had probably been a hundred times worse for them already than it had been for her earlier. They were counting on her to save them. Deliver Scott to Valdez, and her parents would live, but Scott would die. Fail to deliver Scott, and she and her parents would die. _What if Valdez didn't keep his end of the bargain_? Tessa thought. _Does he have a reputation for keeping his word?_ She had no way of knowing. She might be delivering Scott to Valdez just to have him turn around and kill them all anyway. What was she going to do? Sleep escaped her, and Tessa lay upon the floor, shaking for a long time.

~7~

Explanations and Suspicions

It was waffle day in the kitchen. Scott and Eric were eager to get to the cafeteria because the crispiest waffles were served first and those who waited too long ended up with soggy, syrup-saturated leftovers. The two sat in the common room, waiting for Mallory as they normally did. Scott's knee jiggled of its own accord as, every few seconds he glanced towards the girls' stairwell hoping to see Therese.

Eric couldn't help but notice Scott's behavior. "Boy, I haven't seen you this excited since the Super Bowl. You'd think the Patriots were back in town or something, the way you're smiling," Eric said. "Did you find Therese last night?"

Scott grinned. "This, my friend, is the smile of someone who got some lovin' last night!" He puffed out his chest and pointed to himself.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Eric. "Where did you do it?"

"In the corridor, right down the hall from Doc's classroom!" Scott grinned.

"You've got to tell me more about this," Eric declared. "God knows I'm not getting any action, and—"

"You know, you would be if you would just take some cues from—"

"GOOD MORNING, SCOTT! MORNING, ERIC!" Mallory yelled, appearing suddenly in the stairwell and giving Scott a dirty look. When it became apparent that she was alone, Scott's face fell. Mallory took notice. "Well! Nice to see you too!"

"Sorry. Where is Therese?" he asked. Mallory put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Don't tell me you don't know where she is, Scott! She never came back to the dormitory last night."

Scott looked at her, puzzled. "Why wasn't she there?" he asked.

"Now really, how dense do you think I am?" Mallory inquired. She smiled at Scott as if he was a sandwich short of a picnic. "Obviously she spent the night with you. Where else would she have been?"

Eric looked at Scott with large surprised eyes. "You boned Therese! Whoa, you two moved fast, but you are so much happier than last night. I mean, there's happy and then there's giddy, and that's you, but I wouldn't have ever thought that you and she... I mean, right there in your bed, with all of us sleeping in the beds around you? Where did she go? For the love of God, why didn't you wake me up? Garvin's gonna shit himself when he finds out he wasn't the first one to...."

"Will you shut up?" Scott interrupted "I never slept with Therese Robichaud or anyone else last night!"

"Then where was she? She wasn't in the library. I was there until late," Mallory pointed out.

"Therese wasn't with me," Scott said. "I saw her last night after her detention with Dr. Butler. We met in the corridor, talked a little, kissed for a while and then, out of the blue, she took off as if she was on fire or something. She said she had to be somewhere. I thought she was kidding." Scott frowned. Where had Therese gone? Had she had somewhere to be last night? Was she meeting someone? Was that what she didn't want to tell him? His mind was a jumble.

"That's strange," Mallory said, frowning. "I studied physics in the dormitory last night until well past 1:00 AM, and she hadn't shown up at that point. I just figured she was with you. And when I woke up just a few minutes ago, I looked at her bed and it hadn't been slept in. All the girls were talking about it." She shifted her book bag from one shoulder to the other. "Shoshana and Sandra think she's got a secret boyfriend that she doesn't want anyone to know about. You know how those two can be, Scott. If they find out that you and she are an item, you bet that you're going to be the subject of a lot of ridiculous rumors. If neither you nor Therese want a reputation problem, she'd better do some explaining when she gets back."

Scott was more than a little concerned about this latest weird situation with Therese. She'd told him that she had somewhere she needed to be, but he'd thought that she had been kidding or had been nervous about being with him for some reason. Apparently, she had gone somewhere— somewhere without him. There was only one place Scott knew of that she might have gone and didn't want him to follow.

A series of bangs on the boy's stairwell alerted the trio that the rest of the dormitory's male contingency was awake and ready for breakfast. They watched as Eric's brother, Ethan Davis, their cousin, Mark Chamberlain and friend Jerome Hilliard bounded down the stairs with matchless gusto, talking amongst themselves.

"Yo, guys! C'mere for a second. I gotta talk to you!" Scott called out.

The three ambled over, good-natured grins on their faces. "What's up?" asked Ethan.

"I, er, have to ask you something. It's about...well, it's about—" "Yeah?" "It's about...uh...room 411." Scott said, lowering his head just a bit, but raising his eyes to the two friends. "Does...stuff go on there? I mean, you know, are the rumors true?"

"Scott's got a girl!" Mark deduced, slapping Scott hard on the back. Scott stumbled forward and nearly fell over.

Ethan shook Scott's hand with great bravado. "Congratulations, old chap!" he exclaimed.

"Shhh!" Scott whispered. "I don't have a girl, or at least I don't think I do. Yet. I was just wondering if all the stories are true. You know, about people going up there, but not studying, if you catch my drift, I mean."

"You want to know if the stories are true, huh?" asked Ethan. "Oh my yes, Scott all the stories are true. It's a place of legend." He looked reverently to the ceiling. "Room 411, or the Love Tower as it's called amongst those of us in the know, is sacred ground. Many have succumbed to the spells of the Love Tower over the years."

"He's right, Scott. I myself have enjoyed its pleasures on more than one occasion," Mark continued. "You ask a girl to go with you and, if she's willing, you fuck each other's brains out!" He placed his hands on his chest and closed his eyes. He held this pose for a few moments, as if remembering something wonderful. "Why? Do you have someone you'd like to take up there?"

"Well, er, you could say that, but I didn't want—" "Who is it?" asked Mark. "Someone we know? Shoshana? Sandra? _Jerome_?"

At the mention of Jerome's name, Ethan and Mark burst into peals of laughter. Jerome scowled and threatened to kick Mark's ass.

Scott could see that this was going nowhere, so he said, "Forget it. That's all I needed to know." He left the boys laughing at his expense and, joining his two pals, left the common room for breakfast.

***

Tessa was confused as she slowly slipped back into a state of consciousness. Why was she sleeping on a floor? She grimaced as she sat up, her muscles aching from both the events of the night before and because she had been sleeping on the floor for hours. A sudden thump from the floor beneath her caused her to turn her head sharply. She was rewarded with a spitting headache and a remembrance of the previous evening.

Blowing on her hands to warm them a bit, Tessa wondered what time it was, and if it was even morning yet. She struggled to her feet and prayed that classes were already in session. She was going to need an empty hallway to get back to the common room and shower. She also needed time to cast some healing spells over herself. She knew that there would be pointed questions if she showed up to her classes looking a wreck.

Tessa placed the palms of her hands against the oaken door and pushed. It swung open without a sound and she made her way cautiously down the stairs to the hallway below. She inclined her head so that she could look around the corner and make sure the coast was clear. Seeing nothing, Tessa attempted to tiptoe quickly down the hall, but a few painful steps reminded her of her dealings the evening before so she slowed herself down to a walk.

The trek to York dorm felt like the longest walk of her life, even though she knew she'd only traveled several hundred feet. She entered the girl's wing, threw her shoes onto the floor and pulled the barrettes out of her hair. Peeling off her sweater, jeans, socks, and underwear, she limped, naked, to the bathroom. She didn't take time to look at her face in the now- repaired mirror, because she was afraid of what she would see.

_Take a shower first_ , Tessa, she told herself. _Perhaps it won't look so bad once you're clean_. She could smell herself and she didn't like it. Tessa turned on the taps and adjusted the water to her liking. She stepped in and flinched when the water hit her bruised body. It stung for a moment or two but then it felt wonderful. She gave a deep sigh, closed her eyes and allowed her head to droop forward, the water hitting her like a warm rain. She stood in this position for quite some time, only occasionally lifting her head to allow the water to hit her face. Rubbing some strawberry-scented shampoo through her hair, she cried when she touched her face. She could feel a bruise on her jaw. She felt the contours of her face some more, using her fingers to examine her injuries like a blind person trying to "see." Tessa hoped that, despite her rudimentary skills in medical magic, she could mend the bruises.

Once out of the shower, Tessa toweled her hair dry. Only as she was brushing her teeth did she chance a peek into the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and bleary. The bruise on her jaw was purple and angry-looking. With her hair still damp, she looked terrible.

She gripped the edge of the sink to steady herself against the shock. At the same time, her bottle of strawberry shampoo fell from its shelf and landed in the bottom of the shower. The sudden thud caused her to cry out in alarm and it was several seconds before she could compose herself enough to walk into the dorm room and change. Racking her brain to remember the incantations her mother had taught her years ago, Tessa muttered the spells under her breath and, in a few moments, the swelling had lessened and the bruises had lightened enough to be able to cover them with some makeup.

Tessa pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean blue shirt and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. It didn't take her long. As a teenager, she couldn't ever understand why it took girls her age three times as long to shower, dress and fix their hair. Given the choice, Tessa would have preferred to wear T-shirt and sweatpants to fancier clothes. _Of course, this might explain why I'm still single,_ she thought. _And if I'd been married, maybe my husband would have been able to protect me from Simon and Valdez in the first place_! Throwing her book bag over her shoulder, Tessa walked out of the dormitory. She consulted her course schedule and discovered that if she hurried, she would be just in time for Metaphysical Studies.

***

Both gym and science had come and gone. Therese hadn't shown up for either class and Scott was more worried about her that he had been earlier. Careful questions directed to some of his peers as to her whereabouts had proven fruitless.

"Nobody has seen her since I did last night," Scott whispered to Eric and Mallory as they walked up the beautifully landscaped Briarwood lawn toward the Metaphysical Studies classroom. "This is getting weird. I mean, don't you think someone would have seen her?"

"You'd think so, yeah," Eric conceded.

The three friends broached the stone steps of the school building. "Well, guys, this is where I leave you two," Mallory said. "Try not to let your IQ's lower too far in Dr. Awan's class," she added with a laugh. Mallory made no secret that she couldn't stand Dr. Awan, the Metaphysical Studies instructor. In her opinion, learning about old magic was a waste of time, especially with new methods of casting spells that made magic easier coming out every day. As a result, when Mallory had taken the class she hadn't put much effort into the homework and had constantly debated with the doctor concerning the usefulness of the class. After one particularly heated exchange, Dr. Awan had kicked Mallory out of class and, in a rare move, allowed the girl to drop the class at half year.

"See ya, Mallory," the boys said to her. She waved, turned around, and walked straight into Tessa.

"Whoa!" Tessa cried.

Mallory looked up at the other girl, stunned. "Therese! We've been wondering where you've been. Why weren't you in class this morning?" asked Mallory, bending over to pick up some pens that had spilled out of her book bag.

Tessa wasn't sure how to answer. She couldn't let them know where she had been last night. It would lead to questions, and she wasn't up to an interrogation today. "I overslept," she said simply, hoping her face wouldn't belay her lie.

Mallory halted in the middle of putting a pen into her book bag. "You overslept?" she asked.

Tessa laughed a little too brightly. "Ha, yes! I overslept," she explained. "Long detention last night! I didn't think Butler would ever let me leave. My hand is still cramped!" She shook out her right hand as if it pained her. "I had to copy out of Webster's. When I got back to the dorm, everyone was asleep." She looked to the group with what she hoped was a winning smile and bright eyes. What met her were three sets of eyes regarding her with doubt. Scott and Eric's eyebrows were raised but they said nothing. Mallory's head was cocked to one side; her eyes narrowed just a touch. _Oh boy_ , Tessa thought to herself, _they're not buying this_.

"You look awfully tired for someone who overslept," Mallory stated cynically, one eyebrow raised. She glanced over her shoulder at Eric and Scott as she headed toward physics.

An uncomfortable silence followed Mallory's departure. Scott stared at Therese, hardly believing that the girl had just lied to all of them. Eric kept his silence as well, which Scott appreciated. He was going to get to the bottom of Therese's deception!

"Well," said Eric, breaking the awkward silence, "if we don't want to be late, we'd better head up now," he said, taking a few steps toward the staircase, which led to Dr. Awan's classroom. "We, uh, we wouldn't want to miss her class now, would we? Or maybe we would. Um, guys?"

Scott and Tessa, who were paying Eric absolutely no attention whatsoever, didn't take their eyes off each other. Eric sighed. "Talk about being a third wheel," he muttered, ascending the staircase by himself.

Tessa and Scott stood alone now, as all of the other students had headed off to their classrooms.

"I missed you at breakfast," Scott said.

"I'm sorry, Scott. I was, um, really tired after detention last night," Tessa stammered. "I went straight to bed."

Scott regarded her with contempt, his face darkening with anger. "Uh- huh," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Except that Mallory studied in the dorms last night until well past midnight and when she went to sleep you hadn't come back from wherever you were yet. When Mallory woke up this morning, she saw that you hadn't slept in your bed. I'm not stupid." His eyes narrowed. "You were someplace else."

Tessa took a step backward. "I-I don't know what to say to that, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I went straight back to the common room after we kissed last night," she told him weakly.

"No you didn't!" cried Scott. "I tried to follow you after you ran off last night, but you left so fast I didn't have a chance to catch up with you. I went straight back to the dorm and sat in the common room for nearly an hour. Mallory was up until one, and she didn't see you come in! Where were you, Therese?"

Tessa's brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a decent excuse as to where she had been. "Well, Scott, I guess I should tell you where I was. Right now. Yep, that's what I'm gonna do." Scott was glaring at her. She could no longer stall for time. "I was tutoring!"

"Tutoring?"

"Yeah, that's right; I was helping some of the sophomores study for a test. They asked me to meet them in the library last night and I told them I would." Tessa talked faster the longer she spoke, desperate for the boy to believe her lie. "I don't know how it got out that I was so good at European History, but it did and they looked so miserable and were afraid they were going to fail, so I said that I would help them figure it out and we were there until six this morning so I thought I'd get a little rest, and—"

"It's okay." Tessa watched, as Scott seemed to relax.

"You understand, then?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "I don't know why I was so worried. I thought that...."

"That what?"

"Never mind. It's not that big a deal."

Scott put his hands into his coat pockets. "I don't suppose you could help me sometime, could you?"

"With history?" asked Tessa.

"No, with molecular biology," Scott said with good-natured sarcasm. "What do you think?"

Tessa rolled her eyes and grinned. "Don't be a smart ass. Of course I'll help you. How about tomorrow night in the library?" "You're on." With that, the two made their way to their next class.
~8~

Dumortierite

The air in Dr. Marziya Awan's room was stiflingly hot, and the scent of cedar incense hung oppressively in the air. Scott and Tessa nearly choked on the odor as they opened the classroom door and stepped inside. Several students already in the room looked their way when the pair walked in. Scott reddened as some of them snickered. He had to admit that, given the rumors about Therese and him, coming in late with her didn't look good.

"Good morning," Dr. Awan greeted the pair in a misty voice as Scott and Tessa looked for a seat. "My horoscope told me that two of my students would be late, so I took care to save you both an extra seat, right next to me." She gestured to some chairs next to her own desk.

Scott and Tessa exchanged pained looks. Sitting next to Dr. Awan was not their idea of a good time!

The teacher sat on her gaudily upholstered chair, rearranged her multicolored broomstick skirt and cleared her throat. She leaned toward the crystal ball in front of her, touching its surface lightly with the tips of her fingers.

"Let us focus ourselves today in the introductory study of crystal magic," she intoned in a voice barely over a whisper. Students learned forward, straining to hear her. Scott rolled his eyes. Old Awan would do anything for effect!

"Crystal magic is a branch of old magic whose use has been somewhat of a dying art over the last several years. Many of our earliest civilizations dabbled in the crystal arts. The Egyptians were especially drawn to the magic of crystals; so too were the American Indians. A myriad of people in early times believed in the power of crystals, as do quite a number today, myself included. It's said that the power of crystals can be beneficial for healing, both physically and mentally and can spark unusual bursts creativity and fertility."

At Dr. Awan's mention of the word "fertility," a number of the students, including Eric, sniggered. The teacher didn't indicate that she had noticed. Dr. Awan removed her fingertips from the crystal ball. She reached below the table that held the ball and pulled out a very ornate, expensive-looking box. She turned the box so that when she opened it, the contents were visible to the students.

Tessa leaned in to get a closer look. In the box, she could see crystals of all shapes, sizes and colors—every color a person could imagine. Some were transparent and some were not. They were all extremely beautiful. "Wow," breathed Sandra Brown. "They're wicked pretty. Does it make a difference what color and type the crystal is for the type of magic you wish to perform?"

Dr. Awan gave Sandra a brilliant smile. "How perceptive of you to notice!" Sandra beamed. "Yes, Sandra, type and color do indeed matter." She pulled a small lilac-colored crystal from the box and lifted it up for the whole class to see. "This is Amblygonite," she explained. "Amblygonite helps to increase clarity of the mind and mental focus. It is especially good to have around when you need to give a speech, as it affects comprehensibility of what you say," Dr. Awan answered.

As the students continued to pass the crystal around, she pulled another crystal from her box. This one was yellow and transparent. It was also, from what Tessa could surmise from her seat, perfectly spherical.

"That looks a bit like a crystal ball!" she exclaimed.

"Good eye, Miss Robichaud," Dr. Awan said. "Beryl was the original type of crystal used to make crystal balls. Those who study crystals believe that Beryl, like this here, is the best type of crystal for inducing magical visions and revealing the secrets of others. "Beryl is also thought to help make one smarter, and it's suggested that one should hold it when they are reading or studying something difficult, and the passage will be easier to understand. Some of you," she said in a lower voice, looking directly at Eric, who had dozed off by the window, "would do well to keep some tied about your neck!"

Some of Eric's classmates prodded him awake. "Wha—" he said sleepily, eliciting giggles from about the classroom. Dr. Awan gave him a look that was eerily similar to Ms. Violette.

As Tessa watched the proceedings before her, she thought back to the night that the Visionary Coalition had kidnapped her. Valdez had used a crystal ball to look at Scott. She had also seen her parents in it. However, his ball had been reddish-amber in color. This Beryl was just plain yellow. What type of crystal had Valdez used? She snapped out of her thoughts. Dr. Awan was talking about another crystal she was holding in her hand. This one was stunning in its beauty. Deep blue, it was transparent, but only barely. Her interest piqued, Tessa listened.

"This crystal is new and, unlike Amblygonite, extremely rare. The Department of Magical Defense has very kindly loaned it to me for the week, where it will remain under lock and key. Called Dumortierite, it is one of the most powerful crystals in existence. It is considered a protective crystal, especially against the most powerful and concentrated of attacks. It helps to turn away curses, unexpected waves of magical and physical powers and the sort of highly organized attacks that would come from a group working against you. When something should hit it, the crystal ensures that the energy it deflects is sent back to its source. Your reason for employing its use must be pure, or the crystal will turn against you!"

"If it's so powerful, then why isn't it used more often for defense against the Visionists—kind of like a bullet-proof vest?" Scott wondered aloud.

"As I said, Mr. Madison," replied Dr. Awan, her voice mysterious- sounding and softer than before, "it is a rare crystal. In the wrong hands, the crystal would cause mayhem." She placed the crystal back in the ornamented box. "There is such a thing as pure hatred, you know. Can you imagine the devastation this crystal would cause if it were in the hands of someone with that much evil inside of them?"

Tessa raised her hand. "Then what you're saying is that crystal magic can also be dark magic?"

Dr. Awan paused, her blue eyes trained upon Tessa. "I knew that one of you would ask that question. Crystal magic is not inherently evil, Miss Robichaud. It is used primarily for good. However, in the wrong hands, and depending on the particular stone being used, crystal magic can indeed be used for dark purposes."

Rummaging through the box, Awan pulled out a stone that looked exactly like that of Valdez's, although not a sphere. It was more amber than red, and smoke swirled around inside it. "This is Red Jasper," said the Professor, handing it to her. "One would use this for spells concerning dreams and strong emotions, such as lust. It can be used to help prevent misfortune, but its primary uses are for demonic invocations and sexual prowess." Tessa nodded her head. So Valdez had been using the crystal for demonic invocations and sexual prowess, had he? _Dirty old man_ , she thought, smiling. But why had Valdez chosen that particular crystal? She didn't think Valdez was looking for love, unless... Oh dear God, she realized, Could it have anything to do with the dream that Simon Spellman had mentioned to her? Had Valdez tried to force her into Scott's dreams, but something hadn't happened the way he wanted it to? She looked over at Scott, who now was as white as the paper in front of him. He looked rather ill.

Class ended with Dr. Awan reminding the students to read their chapter on crystal magic because the Fates were advising her that there might be a quiz next class. Everyone groaned. The students hustled to get out of their seats and out the door to fresh air. Tessa grabbed her book bag and stood up, but Scott remained seated.

"Come on, Scott! We'll be late for lunch!" Scott sat very still, and didn't look at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her smile dimming.

"Um, I'm fine, I guess," he said, getting up from his chair and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I was just thinking about a dream I had."

"Okay." Tessa wanted to ask him, but knew she couldn't. Scott would know that she knew about the dream and her chance of success with Valdez's plan would be ruined.

~9~

Research

In Tessa's opinion, there was no better place to study than the library. The thick, musty books that lined the long shelves, the plush leather chairs and the long wooden tables lit with small, old-fashioned lamps lent to the ambiance, providing a perfect place to study.

The library was deserted, save for the head librarian when Tessa entered, and this pleased her. She wanted complete privacy for the research she was planning to do. Looking about, she was delighted to see that the expansive room had changed little since she had left.

Dr. Awan's discussion of crystal magic had intrigued Tessa. Her newfound knowledge that Valdez might be using a crystal to watch her every move and to play with Scott's mind was extremely valuable. She now had a potential tool with which to aid in her fight against him. She may be able to save her parents and not have to worry about seducing Scott or putting him in any danger at all!

And that, she knew, was wise. Should she be successful, she would be teaching piano lessons back in Covington in just a few days. She wondered how many of her students had blown off their piano lessons because she was missing. _When I show up at the studio on Monday morning, they're going to wish they'd spent more time on their technique drills_ , she thought with an evil little laugh.

Tessa made her way slowly through the aisles. Books on every subject imaginable lined the shelves. Her fingertips lightly brushed the book's spines of and her eyes quickly surveying the titles in the hopes that she would soon discover what she was looking for. _Conversations with Cupids_ , no... _Corralling the Chimera_ , nope, that wasn't it either. She stopped as her fingers hit a book that could possibly help her: _Crystals, Crystals, and you guessed it: More Crystals_.

Tessa needed both hands to pry the book from the shelf, as it was tightly wedged in. Once the book was free, she placed it on a nearby table, tossed her book bag in a seat, sat down and opened the book up to the first page. "Welcome to the wonderful world of crystal magic," Tessa read softly to herself. "Crystals have fascinated people for thousands of years and those who have magic in their employ have always considered them a vital part of their ritual equipment." _Yeah, yeah, get to the part about Dumortierite_ , she thought impatiently. She flipped ahead several pages until she found the short chapter on crystal magic's newest discovery.

Tessa read and took copious notes, resting her writing hand only occasionally as she became more immersed in the fascinating book. As she studied, she knew she would have to be crafty in her potential plan of action. She couldn't speak a word of this to anyone, lest someone overhear. Time was of the essence. She had just three days to save the lives of those she held dear.

***

"Scott, I need to talk to you."

Startled by the sudden sound of Mallory's voice, Scott jumped from his bed and the football magazine he was reading slipped off the coverlet, onto the dormitory floor. He scrambled to pick it up before it closed and he lost his place, but with no success. The manual clapped shut just as Scott's hands grabbed hold of the spine.

Swearing under his breath, he gave Mallory a scowl. "You scared the living you-know-what out of me, Mallory! Do you ever think of knocking?"

"The door was open!" Mallory shot back at him. "Besides," she added in a syrupy voice, "If Therese Robichaud was here instead of me, I seriously doubt you would have been upset." She sat down on the bed across from his. "We need to have a little chat."

"Look, if this is about Therese, don't bother. She explained everything to me about last night right after you left." Scott sat back down on his bed, pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. "She was tutoring."

Mallory raised one eyebrow in a move that reminded Scott strongly of Dr. Butler. "Really?" she asked dryly.

"Yes, really, and I believe her."

"Scott, I don't pretend to know everything about her, but I have some suspicions. I don't think it's a good idea that you two see each other. She seems a bit off in the head, if you ask me. I mean, the first day she's here, she breaks a mirror and cuts herself up. She's shifty; she lies, and she got into trouble on the first day of classes!" Mallory sighed deeply. "I know you don't want to hear this, but as your friend I feel I should tell you that a relationship with Therese Robichaud is not good for you."

"You're jealous," Scott muttered.

"Of what? Hell, I don't want to date her!" cried Mallory. "Jealous that you're in love with a girl who, in case you haven't noticed, doesn't even speak with a French accent even though she supposedly attends a French school?"

"I like Therese. I don't care if she has an _Italian_ accent and attends a _Spanish_ school! She told me about tutoring those sophomores after you left. They wanted to copy her notes from class last night and have her quiz them." Scott threw up his hands. "Maybe she lied about it because she thought I'd be upset, I don't know. The point is I like her and that's that. I mean, it's not like I'm marrying her or anything!"

Mallory's jaw dropped. "What's gotten into you? You're not the Scott I've known since fourth grade, and the one I got a detention with last year for putting Ex-Lax into Alan Garvin's cappuccino. In the twenty-four hours since you've met Therese Robichaud, you've lost your mind! You wouldn't saying the things you're saying to me if you weren't head over heels for some bitch who didn't even—"

As Scott watched, Mallory's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed with concentration. He had seen the face before. It was the face she wore when she was about to recall something. Scott saw her look away from him and out the nearby window, where the sky was just beginning to show signs of dusk. What was she thinking about? As if to answer his question, Mallory's face suddenly brightened. She grinned triumphantly and folded her arms across her chest. "You know," Mallory said pointedly, "Therese lied to you today. I know she did and I can prove it! Do you remember last night when she told us about Butler saying not to bring anything but a pencil to detention? Well then, if that was the case, how could she have been working on history? She'd have needed her notes and her book, Scott! She never came back to the study room to get them once her detention was done. And you yourself came back just after making out with her and when you finally went to bed she still—"

"SHUT UP!" Scott yelled, standing up, grabbing his football and striding to the boys' dormitory door. He didn't want to hear Mallory's accusations any longer, even though deep down he could see their plausibility. She was beginning to piss him off. As he placed a hand on the doorknob he turned around, his expression cold. "From now on, stay out of my business! You don't have to mother me all the time!" With that, he exited the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that one of the pictures on the wall crashed to the floor.

Mallory could hear his angry footfalls on the steps as he left the room. She looked at her shoes, her feelings deeply hurt. Why was he so eager to disregard everything she said? "Stupid boys," she groused, "always thinking with their penises!"

***

Scott left the dormitory in a huff. He was angry, he was confused and his lower body behaved strangely when he thought of Therese. He desperately needed to be alone with his thoughts and the one place he felt he could find some solitude at this time of day was the indoor pool.

As he walked around the pool's perimeter Scott tried to forget about what Mallory had said, but couldn't. She had been his friend for too long; she'd never steered him wrong. She usually wasn't one to deny his feelings, even if it came at a personal cost to her. He was cognizant of the fact that Mallory would never tell him something that would hurt him without being certain of her convictions first. That fact bothered him the most.

Scott removed his shoes and socks, and then rolled up his pant legs to the knees. Sitting down so that his legs could dangle over the side and into the cool water, he thought about last night's conversation between Mallory and Therese, just before she left for detention. Of course, now that she had mentioned it, Scott could remember Therese making the comment about not being able to bring anything to her detention. Scott also recalled that Therese hadn't brought any books out of Doc's classroom when he'd met up with her. He tried to come up with a way that Therese could have tutored without her textbooks and notes, but couldn't come up with anything.

Not speaking English with a French accent was easier for Scott to dismiss. After all, hadn't Alan Garvin's father wanted to send him to that fancy school in Germany? Alan wasn't German. Perhaps Therese's parents were like the Garvin family was, and her parents wanted to send her to a French school instead of Briarwood. That was believable enough, he guessed.

Still, Scott was left with the indisputable fact that Therese Robichaud was hiding something from him and everyone else. He recalled Therese's cryptic comments about having to do something that she didn't want to do and that she had told him that the real crap hadn't even hit the fan yet. Whatever Therese was hiding, she wasn't ready to share it. He didn't suppose that he would be so worried about it if he didn't care for her as he did.

There was something about Therese that caused his insides to turn to mush. He loved the way she had looked at him last evening in the corridor. Her eyes had been full of want for him and he had enjoyed the attention. When he was with her, all logical thoughts in his brain ceased. He thought back to Dr. Awan's discussion of dreams earlier in the day. Had he been dreaming under the influence of crystal magic? If so, who was casting the spells? He hadn't even met Therese when he had had the dream. _That's just stupid_ , he thought. _Nobody's using crystal magic to send me sex dreams_! He sighed, allowing his legs to dangle in the water. _Maybe my dream hadn't been an omen after all. Maybe it was a chance thing. Maybe_ , he thought to himself, _it was just one of those dreams that guys get at some point in their lives when they realize that the opposite sex isn't something to be frightened of anymore. Wasn't that what Mallory had said?_

Scott smiled to himself. He decided to chalk the experience up to Mallory's line of thinking. The fact that the girl in his dream looked an awful lot like Therese Robichaud was merely a coincidence. He felt a stirring in his groin as his mind conjured up the image of the girl caressing his body with her lips. He wished it had been Therese. He remembered the night before when he had been kissing her and touching her bare skin underneath her sweater. It had felt like warm silk under his fingertips. He remembered her mouth on his neck, the tickle of her breath in the hollow area of his collarbone, her hands in his hair. Scott's eyes glazed at the pleasant thoughts. If he was ever to have a prophetic dream, he hoped that the one he had on Sunday night had been it.

Feeling considerably better about life in general, Scott pulled his bare legs out of the water, grabbed his shoes and socks and stood up to leave. As he did so, he glanced across the pool and his heart seemed to stop beating. For there, near the rack of floatation devices stood a smiling young woman. It was none other than Therese herself.

***

Studying was a powerful solace when the world got you down, in Mallory Decatur's opinion. She studied when she was depressed. She studied when she was angry. If grades were any indication of her constant emotional state, one might have suggested that she were continually in turmoil. Those who knew her best just understood that Mallory's answers to everything lay in a book. If that made her happy, then where was the bad?

She had been sitting in the common room, studying hard for her upcoming physics exam for over two hours when it dawned upon her that it might be time to take a break. She lifted her tired eyes from the pages of her text and reached across the table for her mug of coffee. As she drank the hot liquid, she noticed her copy of the _Daily Telegram_ underneath her books. Deciding that she needed to get her mind off numbers for just a few minutes, Mallory decided to look through the paper. The front-page headline caught her eye: _No Clues in Family's Disappearance_.

The search continued today in the disturbing disappearance of the Laughlin family of 68 Tallyrand Court, Covington. Missing since Sunday evening, the family's kidnapping appears to be the work of the Visionary Coalition, the radical magical group with strong ties to the notorious Raphael Valdez. Forty-nine-year old Michael Laughlin and his wife, Linda Laughlin, aged forty-seven, former Scarlet Guard members and recipients of the Medallion of Courage and their daughter, twenty-four-year old Tessa Laughlin disappeared from their home on Sunday night.

Mallory put down the newspaper and shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to the Laughlin family. Those captured by the Visionary Coalition rarely lived to tell the tale. She continued to read the article:

Colleagues and students from the Covington Piano Academy, where Tessa Laughlin was employed, hope against hope that she will return safely to them soon. "I miss Ms. Laughlin," said Shelby Snow, a fifteen-year old piano student. "She was nice and she let me play cool music. She's a good sport about things, and never goes nuts, even if I don't practice my music, which is a lot of the time, to be honest. I was supposed to play _Lawrence of Arabia_ this year, and if she doesn't come back, I won't get the chance."

Mallory's eyes widened. Therese liked the movie _Lawrence of Arabia_ as well. That was an interesting coincidence. There were also photos of the happy family displayed on the adjacent page. One photo in particular caught Mallory's eye. It was a picture of a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair posed with her student in front of a piano. Mallory's heart seemed to stop. The woman in the photo could have been Therese's twin.

***

"Hi!" Scott nearly slipped on the slick concrete surface surrounding the pool. "Hey, Therese! What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Tessa answered. "I just finished some studying in the library and decided to go for a walk. I saw you through the window and thought I'd say hi." She blushed. _Why is small talk so difficult to make_ , she thought. _I wasn't good at it when I was eighteen and I've never gotten the knack._

"You're on the football team, right?" she asked, somewhat confused. "I didn't know you were on the swim team, too."

"Oh, I'm not," Scott said. "I dived my freshman year but didn't like it as much as football. I'm the quarterback for Briarwood." He sat down on one of the metal bleachers; Tessa sat down next to him. "Do you follow football at all?" he asked in a hopeful voice.

"Um, no. I'm not much of a fan," Tessa admitted. "Only around playoff time, to tell you the truth."

"Really?" Scott's spirits sank; he was disappointed with her revelation. He had secretly hoped that Therese would be around to cheer for him at games but he also knew that, if she were there, he'd never be able to concentrate long enough to throw touchdown passes. He could see Therese on the fifty- yard line, tossing her hair, licking her lips, and... Scott shifted uncomfortably.

"Think about something else!" he muttered to himself.

"Huh?" Tessa queried.

"Did I just say that out loud?" Scott's face went beet-red. "I did, didn't I?"

Tessa tried to keep a straight face but couldn't manage it. "You talk to yourself! Don't worry," she comforted, patted his arm. "Your secret is safe with me. Cross my heart. In some cultures, talking to oneself is considered a sign of intelligence."

"Name one."

Her brows knit as she tried to give Scott an answer. "Quite honestly, they've all slipped my mind. But don't worry about it; I talk to myself sometimes, too."

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they stared into the pool. The water's surface was mirror-smooth. "So when you dove, what was your event?" Tessa asked.

"Ten-meter platform," Scott said. He pointed towards the highest diving board in the arena. "That's it, right there."

Tessa felt queasy just looking at it. "And you'd jump right off? Head first?"

Scott laughed. "Well, better that than hitting stomach first. Ask Mark Shingleton about that; he did it last year. What's fun, though, is to leap up high and do a cannonball. I swear, I did that once and almost hit the bottom of the pool!"

"Oh God, stop," Tessa said, putting her hands over her ears and cringing. "I can almost feel that. It's creeping me out!"

"I take it then that you've never dived?" Scott asked.

"Hell, no. I mean, I've jumped into a pool before, but not from as high as you have. I have what you might say is an unhealthy fear of heights."

"You can't be serious," Scott said with a wink. "It's not that bad." He stood up and offered a hand. "Come on, let me show you!"

"N-no, that's okay." "Come on!" Tessa hadn't been lying about the fear of heights. She didn't want to climb up to the platform, even if it was with Scott Madison. She tried to picture him with nothing on but a tiny Speedo and a swim cap. _He probably looks sexy as all hell_ , she thought. _Soaking wet, the suit would probably leave nothing to the imagination_... "Stop thinking about him," she scolded herself.

"Huh?" asked Scott. "I guess you're showing intelligence now, huh?"

Tessa grinned weakly. "Yes, in a matter of speaking," she said.

Scott proffered his hand once more. "Come on. I know you're scared, but I'll be with you. I'm not going to let you fall!" "No, really. I'm better down here." "Nothing's going to happen. I'll be with you the whole time!" He pointed upward. "The platform looks a lot narrower down here than it really is. If I thought it wasn't safe, I wouldn't ask you to come with me. I promise I'll hold your hand the entire time."

Tessa gulped. "Um, okay. But I don't want to get too close to the edge."

She placed her hand in his and walked to the ladder that led to the diving platform. Tessa shut her eyes tightly the moment her feet left the ground. Why had she agreed to this? It wouldn't have mattered who was leading her up the ladder; she still would have been terrified. She tried not to think about how high she was climbing, instead focusing her mind on Scott's face.

"Well, here we are," Scott said in a good-natured voice. He reached for Tessa's hands and helped her stand. "Thirty-two feet, ten inches. It takes a good three seconds to enter the water from this distance, and... you know, it wouldn't kill you to open your eyes!"

Against her better judgment, Tessa opened her eyes and glanced over the platform's edge. The pool looked like a postage stamp from where she stood. She began to feel dizzy and she started to teeter. With a little scream, Tessa threw her arms around Scott's waist and refused to let go. She heard him gasp.

"Stop clutching at me like that! I can't breathe!" Scott croaked.

"I'm scared! I want to get down, now!" she cried, her voice muffled because her face was buried in his shirt. He could feel her face pressed against his back. He didn't want to climb down, because he knew that he would no longer have her this close to him, but he sighed and said, "All right, all right. I'll help you down."

He climbed part way down the ladder, and then offered Tessa a hand. She clasped it in hers so tightly that he could feel her fingernails nearly penetrating the skin.

"Quit digging into me so tightly," he hissed. "I'm going to look like I've got stigmata if you dig me any harder!"

"But I'm scared!"

"I've got you. I'm not going to let you fall." The climb down took twice as long as the climb up had. As soon as Tessa could jump safely, she let go of Scott's hand and leaped to the ground. She raced to the far wall and collapsed against it. Scott could see that she had been crying; she had tear-marks on her face. He sat down beside her as she buried her face in her arms, breathing quite heavily. He put an arm around her. "Are you going to be okay, Therese?"

"Yeah," Tessa said in a small voice, "I'm just a little scared of heights," she said. "I've never even been on a plane."

"Oh. Well, you're on the ground now," Scott said.

"You probably think I'm stupid." Tessa lifted her face from her arms to look at him.

"No I don't," Scott said. "We all have our fears." He sat closer to her.

"Oh yeah?" Tessa asked. "Tell me, what's your fear? I mean, you survived a Visionist attack when you were six! Most people that cross Valdez's path end up dead. What do you have to fear?"

"Well," admitted Scott, leaning in close to her, "I'm not keen on clowns. I know that they're just people wearing face paint and wigs, but you don't know just who is under that mask. It could be a serial killer like Gacy, for all anyone knows!"

Tessa felt better after hearing that. She could smell him at this range—a little sweaty, but not unpleasantly so and also like the night air. "Tell me," she said quietly, "are you afraid of anything else?"

Scott's lips were mere inches from hers. "I, er, am afraid of Violette when she's in a snit, and I'm not a fan of death." He lips were now so close to Tessa's that the separation between them was negligible at best. Tessa's heart was pounding as shivers of delight snaked their way up her spine.

"A-anything else," she asked softly, resting a hand on Scott's upper leg.

"I'm afraid that if I don't kiss you right now I'll die." His lips brushed hers so quickly and so softly that, for a moment, Tessa was sure she had imagined it. Only the tingle on her mouth led her to believe otherwise.

"That, Scott, is a fear I'm happy to save you from." She sealed her mouth over his in a tender kiss.

***

A knock on the girl's dormitory door awakened Mallory from a sound sleep. Irritated, she sat up in her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Who is it?" she asked grumpily. When there was no answer, she stood up, threw a housecoat over her nightgown and padded over to the door. She opened it, ready to bite the head off whoever had decided to interrupt her slumber but was shocked to see Eric standing on the other side!

Embarrassed by the sad state of her sleeping attire she tried to close the door in his face, but he pushed it open with his hand. "I've seen you look a hell of a lot worse," he said pointedly.

Mallory fought the urge to slap him as she relaxed her grip on the doorknob. She fiddled with the tie on her robe. "What do you want?" she whispered.

"Um, is Therese here?" Mallory looked over her shoulder and strained to see in the darkness. She could make out Shoshana, sleeping in her bed. Sandra wasn't in her bed, however, and neither was Therese.

_Of course she's not_ , Mallory thought sarcastically. _She's probably helping "tutor" those guys again_. "Well, I was just in the library, trying to check out the new copy of Sports Illustrated and the librarian gave me this." Eric handed Mallory a blue backpack. "She says that it belongs to Therese. Apparently she was studying in there earlier and left it at one of the tables."

Mallory took the bag. It was heavy. "Thanks, Eric. I'll see that she gets this." She glanced at Therese's empty bed and, despite Scott's angry request that she stay out of his personal affairs, asked the question on the tip of her tongue anyhow: "Have you seen Scott tonight?"

"No," Eric answered. "When I saw him last, he was heading in the direction of the indoor pool. I was on my way to the library. Boy, he looked pissed off!"

"Then he hasn't talked with you, huh?" Mallory asked.

"No. Should he have?" asked Eric. "We got into it a fight this afternoon about Therese." "Oh, man, you didn't go _there_ with him about Therese, did you?"

"Listen! Yes, I did! I told him that Therese wasn't good for him and that he shouldn't see her. She isn't a—"

"Leave it alone, already! He likes her. Can't you just be happy for him?"

"I want to be. I really do, but if you knew what I do about her," Mallory stated to him. She proceeded to tell Eric what she had learned about Therese.

Eric's eyes widened. "And Scott knows all about this?"

"Yes," said Mallory. "Well, all except the resemblance to the young woman in the paper who looks like she could be related to her. He knows everything else and has absolutely no qualms."

"Then I think we need to do something sneaky," said Eric. "We need to talk to the Doc without Scott knowing. We'll write a letter to the good folks at Wellington. Maybe they can tell us something we don't know."

"They're not just going to give us information on one of their students," Mallory protested. "My mother's a teacher and she's not allowed to talk about her students to people who don't work directly with them."

"But what if you disguised yourself as Dr. Reid?" Eric's eyes twinkled. "Come on—if anyone could forge his writing, it'd be you. You've got tons of commendation letters from him for your grades. Just use the signatures on your certificates as a guide on how to sign his name. You can type the rest."

"I don't know about that."

"Do it! Then you can forget about hating Therese and get on with your life."

"You're probably right," sighed Mallory. "You'll have to dictate what I ought to write—you're the great English student."

~10~

In Which Tessa is Caught in a Lie

Tessa Madison slept. And as she slept, she dreamed....

The dream of so many months ago was becoming a reality. She could see blood—lots of blood—pooling around a helpless Scott...a slash to the throat, the knife cut looking like a grotesque and taunting smile. She saw herself on the floor by his side, cradling his lifeless body in her arms. The white curtains surrounding the open window behind him billowed innocently—stark purity against an evil black sky.

As she watched the scene unfold, Tessa heard a voice to her right...squeaky and familiar... "Listen to me T-Tessa! I show you what can be ch-changed!"

Tessa turned sharply in the direction of the voice and saw nothing. "Spellman?" she asked in a small voice. She took another tentative step toward the Tessa-Who-Was-Not, still looking around the room. "Simon? Are you here?"

The doppelganger Tessa looked up from Scott's lifeless body then, straight into the real Tessa's face. A sinister smile spread slowly across its face. Tessa watched in mute horror as the thing opened its mouth and spoke, but the voice was not hers; it was eerie and cold, without pity:

" _The Dreamfaster cannot help you, cursed bitch!" The being gestured towards Scott's lifeless body. "You thought you could save him from the most powerful being on Earth, Tessa. Pitiable wards and silly spells won't keep me away...I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end...I always win. I ALWAYS WIN!"_

Horror-stricken, Tessa watched as the Tessa-who-was-not reached up to its face and placed its fingers in the corners of its eyes. The doppelganger suddenly dug fiercely at the face, causing Tessa to cry out in alarm. Skin and sinew, chunks of flesh and bone fell away from the face to reveal two red eyes. Two red, evil eyes...a scarred face with a mouth that was wide—too wide for a normal face... Valdez was here. Tessa screamed.

***

Raphael Valdez was not a happy man. "Spellman," he said, stepping close to his Orb and placing a skeletal hand on its even surface. "Come up here." He beckoned to his second in command, who, trembling with fear, shuffled to his master's side. Unable to meet Valdez's eyes, Simon fell to his knees, hands clasped in submission.

"I prostrate m-myself before you, Valdez. What would you have me do?"

Valdez looked at Simon with distaste. "It seems that we have a little problem on our hands. Do you see what I see in the Orb? These two teenagers have become more trouble than they're worth and I have reason to believe that it could be your fault!"

The hazy smoke within the crystal swirled slowly, revealing a young man and woman who seemed to be having an animated conversation. Whatever it was they were discussing both were passionate about it; each made sweeping gestures with their hands and arms and it appeared as if they were shouting at each other.

With a shudder, Simon recalled the intelligence report he'd received on the pair. Both clever, if they suspected that something was off with Tessa, they'd find it soon. "How did they find out about Tessa?" asked Simon.

"I wondered that same thing myself. It seems someone caught Tessa in a rather awkward lie...something about not being in her own bed when everyone in her dormitory awakened this morning." Angrily he stared at Simon, who was beginning to sweat as he continued to gaze into the crystal. "It seems as if she spent the night someplace else. Would you know anything about that?"

Valdez's flashing eyes and drumming fingertips on the top of the crystal sphere all but told his underling that his boss had witnessed the "unpleasantness" in room 411. He blanched.

"Uh, I-I, that is to say, I sp-spoke with her last evening a-as you wished. Mistakes were made, unfortunately and—" Simon closed his mouth. There was nothing he was going to be able to say to placate his boss. Shaking, he awaited brutal punishment. It didn't come. Cold laughter raced into his ears instead.

"Do you honestly believe that you're worth killing? You're a pathetic, cowardly piece of shit, Spellman, and not worth dirtying my hands over." Valdez's underling whimpered an unintelligible response. "You couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you? Lust is for the weak! You must watch yourself, unless you desire a most painful death. Do I myself clear? You're not to have her, Spellman, at least, until I get what I want."

"Y-yes, sir. You are most forgiving." "Get off the floor, fool!"

Simon did as he was told. "So far, Miss Laughlin has done exactly as was asked of her. In fact, I daresay she's gone above and beyond the original plan. Because of your stupidity, however, my worries lie with Mr. Madison's annoyingly loyal friends. It's only a matter of time before they figure out what's going on. If she's discovered as an imposter before she delivers Scott to me, everything I've worked for is going to be lost. I have waited far too long for two teenagers to thwart my plans!

"I chose Tessa Laughlin for a reason Simon, as you are well aware," intoned Valdez softly as he stepped to the picture window. He looked outside at the beautifully landscaped gardens and the magnificent wrought- iron gate that encircled his estate. Even though he couldn't see them, he was aware of the no less than one hundred security cameras that recorded movement on the grounds from every angle. In his line of work, the constant surveillance was necessary. "With her doing my bidding, she will destroy everything her parents worked so hard to save twelve years ago. You of all people should be pleased with that."

Startling Simon, Valdez turned away from the window and yelled, "GET OVER HERE!"

Simon shuffled slowly to where Valdez stood. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and didn't looking directly at his Master. He chose to fixate on the Orb instead. The image of Eric and Mallory arguing dissipated; their bodies melded together in a motley of colors and reforming into the image of Scott and Tessa sitting together by the pool. They were sharing a kiss.

"I believe, Simon, that young Mr. Madison might be in love with the girl."

"Yes sir."

"Such a pity," Valdez mused, a tiny grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "The boy is in for a rude awakening on Friday evening. Imagine! To find out the woman he loves is leading him into a death trap! Revenge is sweet, wouldn't you agree, Spellman?"

Simon's eyes narrowed. "Yes. I would, indeed."

***

The rest of Tessa's repose passed in relative peace and quiet, much to her relief. During the morning hours, she continued to play the part of the exchange student, taking notes in class, and answering questions whenever a teacher called on her. Had her situation not been so precarious, she would have enjoyed the experience a lot more. She had always enjoyed school when she was younger.

As the sunny afternoon gave way to a cloudy evening, a risky plan began to formulate itself in Tessa's head. After studying about crystals the day before, she had come up with a potential idea to save both Scott and herself, but it would take everything she had, every ounce of cunning and all of her skill to pull it off. Even then, she thought, the plan might not work. Still, she would have to try. She had to do it today. She couldn't wait any longer.

Dr. Marziya Awan's classroom was quiet and eerily peaceful. The beanbags were arranged neatly around her crystal ball and the lights were low. From where Tessa stood, she could see the box of crystals peeking out from underneath the table.

With some trepidation, she crept over to the box, and picked it up. She opened it, and there, amongst the beautiful stones, was the dark blue crystal she was looking for: Dumortierite.

Tessa picked up the crystal and held it in her hand. It felt heavy and cool against her palm. She held it up to the dim light, admiring its beauty. For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt as she realized that Dr. Awan would panic when she discovered it missing. Stealing it from her would be a horrible thing to do. Her parents hadn't raised her to be a thief, but she knew that it was for a necessary cause.

Telling herself that she would bring the crystal back if possible, she wrapped the gem in a towel, placed it into her book bag, peered out the classroom door and crept to the base of the staircase. Fortunately, the hallway was empty. Clutching her bag, she ran down the hall and out of the Academy, toward the forest. She ran quickly, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure that nobody followed her. She hoped fervently that Valdez wasn't watching his crystal ball, and that Dr. Awan didn't own a crystal that would show a student stealing from her classroom.

***

Forty-five minutes later, Tessa was well on her way to setting her plan fully into motion. Spread out on the ground around her were the various tools she would to purify and prepare the Dumortierite: a bowl, dried sage, and a bottle of spring water and her notes from the library.

Looking up to the sky, she smiled as the first stars of the evening peeked out just above the treetops. She would need a clear, starry night to perform the spell successfully. Tessa looked furtively around to make doubly certain that nobody had followed her. Should anyone see her and discover what she was doing, she was a dead woman.

Carefully, she read the directions for the crystal's purification: _"The crystal must be purified before use. This can be done in many ways, but the most efficient is to rub it with a bit of sage."_ Shrugging her shoulders, Tessa picked up the crystal and the sage and rubbed the stone carefully. Why sage acted as a purifying agent, she didn't pretend to know, but she didn't have time to question the notes. She took special care to rub the entire crystal, making certain that no part was left, as the book described it, "impure." This was not the time for mistakes.

She turned to the next page in her notebook. Her notes indicated that she needed to place the Dumortierite in the bowl and cover it with the spring water in order to cleanse it. _That seems a bit redundant, as I already purified the crystal with sage_ , she thought, _but no matter_. She performed the task as the notes indicated, placing the blue crystal in the center of the bowl and slowly pouring the spring water over it. This done, she checked her notes one more time. If the stone was to be used for healing purposes, she read silently, it needed to remain in the sun for three hours. However, if the Dumortierite was being used for a magical purpose, it was to be shone upon by moonlight. Tessa wanted to create a crystal that would repel large attacks of magic. She wondered if the crystal would somehow be more magical if she left it out longer. She decided it was worth a shot.

Finally, Tessa came to the last part of the preparations: the ritual charging of the stone. She would need all of her magical powers for this. Straining to see, as the stars were becoming more numerous is the quickly darkening sky, Tessa placed her shaking hands over the bowl containing the crystal and the water, took a deep breath and chanted:

"Beautiful crystal, fine to see, be consecrated now to me, We are one in growth and life, Please help me now in time of strife. Tensions strong you take from me, Bring good luck effectively, Good luck for Scott you will be, This is my will, so shall it be!"

For a moment, nothing happened. Icy trickles of fear began to snake their way through her veins as for a moment, she thought she might have performed the spell incorrectly. Just as she was about to give up in a great gush of tears, a pale yellow light appeared before her. The yellow light lingered lazily around the bowl, slowly circling it and causing it to glow. Tessa watched in amazement as the bowl rose over a foot from the ground and levitated before her. The bowl began to spin, faster and faster until, in a spectacle unforeseen by Tessa despite her hours of study, it spat forth a giant halo of white light that shot directly into the night sky, as far as her eye could see. The bolt of light lingered over the site of the purification ritual for a few seconds, then dissipated into the night air. The bowl fell to the earth with a clatter and most of the water spilled out.

She peered into the bowl and was relieved to see that the crystal was still there and still intact. Consulting her notes, Tessa saw that the last step to enchant the crystal was to bathe it by the light of the moon, and to leave it alone overnight. For a moment, she wondered if she'd chosen a private enough spot, but realized that the only way the crystal would be bathed by the light of the moon was by having it placed in the clearing. She would have to hope that nobody strayed there before she could safely come back to it.

Tessa scooped up her water bottle, the remains of the sage and her notebook. Stuffing them into her book bag, she looked up at the night sky. It was cold, and she wished she had brought her heavier coat with her. She put her book bag down and buttoned her sweater.

Presently, she made it back to Briarwood Academy. Closing the main door behind her, she was glad for the warmth of the fireplaces inside. Taking the stairs to the York dormitory two at a time she made the journey in less than one minute. She opened the door and entered the common room, pink cheeked from the cold. The room appeared empty; only the light of the fire in the grate lighted it.

Tessa had nearly reached the stairs before she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat coming from behind her. Startled, she whirled around.

Mallory Decatur sat in an overstuffed armchair; her arms folded across her chest, her eyes filled with loathing. The flames from the nearby fireplace danced across her countenance, giving her a look of evil.

"Hello." Tessa smiled, but it died on her face as she saw Mallory's eyes narrow into small slits. "What's the matter? What's going on?" she asked.

"Precisely what I want to find out from you," spoke Mallory in a low voice. "You said you were going to the library this evening. But you didn't go to the library, did you? Scott went there earlier, looking for you, but he couldn't find you. You were supposed to help him with his history. He's quite upset. He thinks you're seeing somebody else." She stood up slowly and walked over to Tessa. "Is he right?"

"What? N-no, Mallory! Absolutely not!"

"Scott's one of my best friends. You'd better not hurt him or you're going to answer to me," Mallory warned.

Tessa did the worst thing she could possibly do; she laughed. "I'm not going to hurt Scott if I can help it! I'm not seeing anyone else." Saying the words with a straight face took all of her willpower to accomplish.

"I don't trust you, Therese Robichaud. There's something strange about you that I can't put my finger on quite yet. But I'll figure it out, and when I do you'd better make sure you're far, far away." She raised herself to her full height, which brought her eye-level with Therese. "Personally, I think you're a two-timing fraud."

Tessa's laughter stopped abruptly and her gut clenched. Mallory was on to her. This couldn't happen. She could envision her parents on the wrong end of a gun, crying and begging their captors for mercy. She could see Valdez laughing cruelly as her parents died from gunshots at close range. And she could see that it would be all her fault. But she couldn't present that face to Mallory. She had to keep it inside, for her parent's sake.

"Does Scott feel that way about me too?" she asked, praying that he didn't. If Scott thought she was a fraud, he wouldn't take her out on Friday. And if he didn't take her out, she couldn't get him to the glen just outside of Pottle Point! And if she couldn't do that...well, she couldn't think about that.

"He thinks the world of you, and that's a real shame. You see, he'd care for you almost unconditionally, which in some ways is a bit of _a fault._ He's one of the most caring people I know, and he doesn't deserve to be lied to," Mallory told her. "I'll be watching you carefully from now on. Don't do anything stupid."

Tessa hoped with all her might that she wouldn't.

~11~

Standing on the Brink of the Abyss

The dawn of the new day came too quickly for Tessa's taste. Asleep, she had enjoyed a mercifully dreamless slumber and didn't have to think about what had happened the night before. Once awake, however, the memories rushed back to her with full force, and panic at her situation made itself comfortable in her gut once more.

She glanced across the room to where Mallory lay asleep on her stomach, one arm hanging loosely over the side of the bed. _She's suspicious of me_ , thought Tessa, shuddering.

Tessa hadn't banked on Scott having a friend who looked out so closely for his interests. Getting anything past Mallory's watchful eye was going to prove difficult. The fact that she had called Tessa a "two-timing fraud" had hurt, but not as much as did the knowledge that the girl was wary of her. It was quite probable that Mallory was simply worried for her friend. That was why she was so upset with her. There was no reason to believe that Mallory was onto Tessa's situation with Raphael Valdez.

Yet.

Tessa knew that as smart as Mallory was, this revelation was sure to come to light eventually. She just hoped it was later rather than sooner.

Yawning, Tessa slipped out of bed. She dressed quickly, grabbed her book bag and headed downstairs. She opened the door that separated the girl's dormitory from the common room. A small yelp of surprise escaped her mouth when she saw Scott there, sitting in the same armchair that Mallory had sat in the previous evening. "Morning," she offered, casting her eyes downward slightly and clutching her book bag across her chest.

Scott didn't reply. He didn't look at her, instead focusing his attention on a painting across the room. Tessa tried again. "I'm heading to breakfast now. Do you want to go with me, or would you rather we wait for the others?"

Scott met her eyes for the first time. They were a little puffy and red. _I hope it's not due to tears. I couldn't bear the thought that I caused him pain. Please let him have an allergy or something_ , she prayed to herself.

"You can go to breakfast. I'm going to wait for my friends, like I do almost every morning," he stated, stressing the word "friends" and frowning.

"But I'm your friend!" cried Tessa. _This is disastrous_ , she thought.

"Scott," she said carefully, not wanting to give too much away, "I forgot to meet you in the library last night. You're angry with me aren't you?"

"You're damn right!" Scott yelled, leaping out of his chair. "You told me you were going to the library...you promised me! I tried to find you so we could study together, and you weren't there. Nobody had seen you the whole evening. So what are you up to? Were you tutoring again?" he spat.

"No, I wasn't," Tessa said in the calmest voice she could muster. "Do you want to know what I was doing?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. What tale are you going to tell me this morning? Don't tell me you were tutoring, because we both know that's a bald-faced lie!"

"I was on the edge of the forest last night," Tessa said truthfully. "I was working on a project." She hoped that this information would be enough to placate Scott. It wasn't.

"What type of project?" he asked her. "We haven't been given any projects since you got here Sunday night!" He pivoted on one foot, walked away from Tessa and stood in front of the fireplace. She could see frustration mounting in him. His shoulders were stiff and his hands were on his hips.

"Dr. Awan's lecture got me to thinking about how interesting crystal magic is." She walked closer to Scott and reached out to place a hand on his back. "I went to the library and did some research on it on Tuesday afternoon. Then last night I left the Academy and went down to the forest to begin the project." She continued to rub Scott's back with one hand. He turned so that he could look at her. "I'm telling you the truth," she said. "I can prove it if you want me to."

He regarded her frostily. "I don't know what to believe about you anymore. My friends think you're dangerous and not good for me. I've tried to defend you and when you lie, it only becomes harder to do so. Mallory doesn't trust you at all, and she's probably the best judge of character I have ever known. She's never been wrong about a person as long as I've known her. That scares me." He spoke his next words with a great deal of sadness. "You need to come clean with me. About everything."

Tessa's heart ached. So desperate was her desire to share her plight that tears welled up in her eyes. She silently cursed her predicament. She wanted with all her heart to let every event of the past four days tumble from her lips to the one person who could probably help her. However, the love of her parents and the anticipation of their safe return to her still outweighed her sympathy for Scott.

She looked into his hazel eyes. They were so hurt and so sad-looking, and her next words, she knew, wouldn't bring him any measure of comfort at all. She placed a warm hand on each of Scott's cheeks and inclined his head toward hers. "I care very much about you. You're one of the most wonderful people I've ever met. But I can't tell you everything you want to know about me, at least not yet. Someday I hope I'll have the chance, but not now." She faltered a bit as she saw him close his eyes slowly and heard the tiniest of sighs escape his lips. "P-please trust me on this."

She leaned so that her forehead touched his, warm against her skin. For a long moment, they remained like that, eyes closed, neither speaking. There was no need for words. Scott brought up his arms and removed Tessa's hands from his face. Holding her hands in his, he raised his lips and brushed them over Tessa's forehead. She opened her eyes at the touch of them. "Good-bye, Therese," Scott murmured, letting go of her hands so that they fell to her sides.

Stunned, Tessa moved forward in a desperate attempt to regain possession of his hands. He stepped away from her, turned around, and walked dejectedly up the stairs that led to the boy's dormitory, never looking back.

"What have I done?" whispered Tessa. She sat down in the nearest chair, numb. Her single best chance for saving her life had just walked out the door and wanted nothing to do with her. She could almost hear her own death knell loud in her ears.

And part of her welcomed it.

***

_There's a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather_ , Mallory mused to herself as she studied Scott and Therese, who were working together on the in-class assignment that Dr. Butler had just given. She had first noticed the uneasy situation at breakfast when Therese had sat down with Shoshana Lieberman and Sandra Brown instead of Scott. Mallory watched as Therese occasionally glanced at Scott over her cereal, but he had ignored her, preferring to discuss the finer points of football with Eric. When Mallory had asked Scott about how things were going with Therese, he had been quiet, preferring to ignore the topic altogether and ask her about her physics class. Now in trigonometry class, Tessa and Scott had been paired up to work on an in-class assignment together. Both looked uncomfortable about it. Mallory noticed that the only time they spoke to each other was to compare notes and write answers on their papers. Unfortunately for Scott, so did Dr. Butler.

"If it isn't Scott Madison and Therese Robichaud, joined at the hip," he said silkily, placing one hand on the pair's desk and glancing at their work. "Awfully quiet today, aren't we?" A trace of a smirk playing about his face.

Scott looked at his desk, but Tessa defiantly met the teacher's gaze, almost daring him to continue taunting them. "Is there perhaps trouble in paradise?" he asked, eliciting laughter from some in the room. Butler took a moment to inspect Scott's written work. "These are all wrong," he said with a sneer. "You forgot the order of operations. You were supposed to do the mathematics on the inside of the parenthesis before you try to do the computations on the outside." The teacher picked up the paper and held it up for everyone to see. "All of this is basic algebra—something you should have learned your freshman year! What's the matter, Scott? Too tired to concentrate in class? If you took time to learn the material you could be as good a trigonometry student as you are a kisser, wouldn't I be right? That is, of course, according to rumor."

The other students in the class laughed again, harder. Dr. Butler picked up their in-class assignment and scrutinized it closely. "This one's wrong, and this one...what orifice did you pull this answer from...that problem wasn't even assigned...I've heard about the Bell Curve, but you two..."

He tossed the paper onto Scott's desk and clucked his tongue. "Both you and Miss Robichaud would do well to quell your, ah, 'extracurricular activities' in exchange for a bit of tutoring. In the meantime, you both need to pay more attention in my class and a bit less to each other."

Mallory noticed Sandra Brown giggling and whispering something into her friend Shoshana's ear. Before she could make a mental note to corner Sandra later on and strangle her, she watched as Scott's temper finally got the better of him

"Thanks a lot, Therese," Scott hissed. "You totally suck at trig, you know that?"

"It's not like I got the problems wrong on purpose. I'm a math phobic," Tessa muttered.

"I'd hate to think you were tutoring this stuff. Then again, it doesn't seem to matter what you're 'tutoring' as long as lots of guys are lined up for help, does it?"

Without warning, Tessa slammed her textbook onto the table. "I don't need this crap from you, Scott Madison!" She stood up. "If you don't want to work with me, get the Doc to assign you another god-damned partner!"

Butler's eyes grew cold. "Watch your tongue in my class, Miss Robichaud," he warned. "No matter how stupid the student, I don't allow swearing in my classroom. You don't want another detention with me."

"You know what you can do with your detention," said Tessa through clenched teeth.

"Get out of my class!"

Tessa picked up her book bag, made an obscene gesture in Butler's general direction, and ran from the room. Butler looked at a loss for words for the first time in Mallory's memory. Alan Garvin and his pals were laughing uproariously at Scott, whose face had gone the color of ripe cranberries, right to the tips of his ears. Finally, Butler gained some order back in his class by assigning thirty word problems that would be due the next week. Even Mallory, who normally enjoyed trigonometry groaned.

When the end of class came and Therese still had not returned, whispers abounded amongst the students as to her whereabouts. Scott still said nothing, as if he didn't care. He gathered up his things, and exited the room without even waiting for Eric or Mallory. They took this advantage to try to speak with Butler. "Um, sir?" asked Mallory, approaching Butler's desk with trepidation. Butler didn't look up. "Dr. Butler, we need to speak with you. It will only take a moment," Mallory went on.

"Be quick," snapped Butler.

"Sir, Eric and I are concerned about Therese Robichaud. She is behaving strangely and we think there's something wrong with her."

"That, Miss Decatur, is not in dispute. However, if you and she are having some sort of female issues, I'm not the person with whom to discuss them. Talk to Ms. Violette." He stood up and started to leave the room.

"Wait! You have to hear her out!" Eric cried. Dr. Butler turned and faced Eric. "Please?"

When the teacher said nothing Mallory took it as her cue to continue. "Dr. Butler, I've noticed that Therese's troubled by something she refuses to share, not even with Sc—those well, close to her. I heard her in the bathroom the first night she was here. She was crying and yelling, and when I walked in on her, she was startled and she cut her hand on glass. She had this expression on her face, as if she'd been caught with her hand in a cookie jar and was going to be punished for it! And you saw her behavior on Monday! It just isn't normal for a guest to get into as much trouble as she did on her first day."

Mallory paused and sighed when she saw Dr. Butler stifle a yawn. "She's been secretive, too! I've caught her in a number of lies. Look at this," Mallory withdrew Tuesday's copy of the Daily Telegram from her book bag and forced it into Butler's hands. "Do you see the picture of that family that was kidnapped by the Visionary Coalition on the front page? The daughter is a dead ringer for her! Therese saw Monday's article, and I swear she looked like she was going to pass out or something! Could they be related somehow?"

"Miss Decatur, I have no time to waste on petty problems," Butler told her, taking the newspaper and tossing it onto his desk. "Now get out of my sight. By the way," he added as he rushed Mallory and Eric out of the classroom, "remind Therese that insubordination toward a teacher is just the kind of behavior that could get a person expelled."

"Yes sir," Mallory said in a glum voice. Why didn't Butler want to listen to what she had to say?

As the classroom door slammed shut behind the two students, Eric rolled his eyes and threw his book bag over his shoulder. "Well, that was a wasted effort," he said to Mallory, who nodded in defeated agreement.

"We tried. I guess there's nothing else for us to do," said Mallory. "I do wonder what she has planned with Scott, though. It isn't like him to fall this fast for someone. It's almost as if she has a hidden agenda that somehow involves him," she added as she and Eric made their way back to their dormitory.

***

After she had left the classroom, Tessa hadn't known where she was going to go. As a result, she decided to go back to the clearing in the woods and collect the crystal, which by now would be brimming with magic if she had done everything as the book described.

She reached the edge of the forest quick and didn't stop walking until she made it to the clearing where she had placed her Dumortierite. She looked into the bowl and sure enough, the blue crystal still lay at the bottom, its facets catching the sun from time to time and twinkling at her as if it were somehow alive. She picked it up and held it in her hand as she sat in the grass. Only then did the tears that had been threatening to fall all day finally escape. She knew that her parents were going to die tomorrow, and it would be all her fault. There was no way that she was going to be able to deliver Scott to the glen now. The boy wouldn't come within ten feet of her.

She thought of Spellman's comment in the Room 411 and shuddered: "Once he finds out who you are and what you are, do you honestly expect him to be your savior?"

_He was right_ , Tessa thought. _There's no way Scott or anyone else can save me now._ She thought of her parents, alone in Valdez's dungeon. Did they wonder if she was going to save them? Painful sobs wracked her body as her mind conjured up the image of them begging for their lives at Valdez's feet; all of their hard work for the Scarlet Guard completely wasted.

She thought about what her own death would feel like. Tessa had heard death referred to as "the next great adventure," but was it? Depending on whom a person spoke to, dying could be either great or terrible. _My death's going to be painful, if Valdez has any say,_ she thought as her stomach clenched with fear. She had heard the stories of the atrocities the members of the Visionary Coalition carried out in the name of supremacy over the non- magicals. Not only would they see to it that she was cognizant of everything they did to her, her death would most likely be slow and agonizing. They'd see to it that her parents were murdered in front of her before they cast the _Memento Mori_ upon her. Would she fight to breathe only to slowly slip into a merciful blankness?

Tessa lay down on the grass, still fiddling with the crystal in her hands. She stared up at the sky. Large, fluffy cumulous clouds drifted slowly across the sky. Tessa smiled as she recalled a childhood afternoon when she was ten. Her father had taken her into a field and together they had looked at the clouds. She closed her eyes and remembered his booming laugh as he had described a picture he saw in one of them:

"Tessie, look up there!" Michael Laughlin pointed to a fat cloud directly overhead. "There's Sir Winston Churchill! Look, he's sitting in a pub and having a quick pint!"

"Daddy! That's not Winston Churchill! That's just a cloud."

"Well surely you can see something in it too? What do you see, my darlin'?" Tessa concentrated, her eyes focused solely on the cloud. "I see mashed potatoes," she stated.

Her father laughed heartily at her pronouncement. "Either you're hungry for some of your mother's delicious shepherd's pie, or you have no imagination whatsoever. Try harder." He attempted to prompt her. "Do you see a face? Maybe a tree or a cat or a hamster? Anything?"

Tessa concentrated some more. "I see a cotton ball," she said.

"Ah, my dear," her father had said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. "Always the logical one, you are! Your mind's built for rational thought. Very little imagination."

"Is that bad, daddy?" she asked.

"Not always, Tessie," her father told her, taking her small hand in his large one and squeezing it. "The world needs a few more people with the gift of logical thought, but don't ever be afraid to dream, too. Maybe someday you'll be able to save the world with that analytical brain of yours."

With that, he had hugged her tightly. If Tessa concentrated hard, she could still feel his arms around her, the tickle of his whiskers on her bare cheek, the smell of his aftershave in her nostrils. She threw one arm over her eyes as they threatened tears again. Her father had been wrong about her someday saving the world. Hell, she couldn't even save him.

***

The evening meal came and went. Even though he knew he shouldn't care, Scott wondered where Therese was. He sneaked what he thought were inconspicuous glances across the room, at all of the tables, even at the teacher's table, but he couldn't find her.

"She isn't here," Mallory said.

"I know that."

"Then why are you searching for her?"

"I wasn't. I was just looking for—"Scott stopped. There was no fooling Mallory. "Okay, so I was looking for her! Are you satisfied?" he asked angrily.

"No, not especially. You're better off without her, you know," Mallory said in a lofty voice. "She's been lying to you. It's about time you figured it out."

"Maybe," Scott said, glancing over his shoulder in the hopes that the girl would magically appear.

"She's not in the building, dumbass!" a cold voice hissed into Scott's ear. He turned in his seat to see Alan Garvin grinning sadistically down at him.

"Where is she, Garvin?" Scott said, his eyes narrowing at the chunky boy standing over him. "A bunch of the freshmen saw your shag-toy running off to the woods!" Alan laughed. "Maybe she's meeting one of the other guys she's been seeing behind your back!" He leaned closer to Scott, positioning his lips close to the boy's ear. "Everyone on the football team says that she's truly wild in the sack. Was she that way with you?"

Scott leaped from his chair, knocking it over. He grabbed Alan by the collar of his shirt and threw him down to the floor as hard as he could. Straddling him, he punched him hard across the face, the stomach; every place he could find that was unprotected, he struck at with a ferocity that later would scare him. Scott was panting from exertion as he delivered blow after blow to Alan's face. He was vaguely aware of people around him shouting and footsteps fast approaching him, but he didn't care. Alan had gone one step too far.

"Get off him!" Eric shouted, pulling at Scott's clothes. "He's not worth it!" Scott struck at Eric with his free arm, sending the boy reeling.

"Scott! You don't want to get expelled over a tool like Alan Garvin, do you?" Mallory yelled.

Scott stopped, sweat pouring from his brow, his right hand holding Alan's shirt collar, his left fist drawn back, ready to punch his bloodied face. He suddenly noticed how quiet the cafeteria had become. Teachers were moving quickly towards them.

Letting go of Alan's shirt collar, he vaulted to his feet. "He was insulting her," he cried, knowing it was a feeble excuse for beating someone within an inch of his life.

Ms. Violette got to the scene of the fight first. "Scott Madison, come with me immediately!" She extended her hand and attempted to lead him away by the arm.

"NO!" Scott protested, wrenching his arm away. "You don't understand! I have to go and find Therese!" He turned and ran out of the cafeteria.

Ms. Violette tried to stop him, but Dr. Reid put a hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice. "Leave him alone, Camille. Given that he beat up Alan Garvin, I suspect Scott's behavior was warranted. Scott and I'll have a chat later."

***

Sleepily, Tessa rubbed her eyes and sat up on the grass. She couldn't believe that she had fallen asleep right there on the ground, but as stressed out as she had been the last few days, the sleep that she so desperately needed had attacked her full force and she had succumbed. The sun had been so warm on her body when she had lain down to watch the clouds. Now it was sinking low in the sky and Tessa was slightly sore from lying on the ground for several hours. The Dumortierite lay beside her in the grass, a reminder of her task.

She picked it up and placed it in her book bag. She stretched and began to get to her feet when a noise just beyond a clump of trees startled her. She dropped her book bag; her hands trembling and her heart beating like a drum against her chest. She distinctly heard a branch snap and the sound of leaves being stepped in.

"W-who's there?" she croaked, her voice shaking. There was no answer.

Unable to take her eyes away from the place where the sounds had come from, she squatted down and picked up her book bag. This done, she took small, careful steps backwards. Another twig snapped. She could feel her blood pounding in her ears. "Leave me alone!" she cried. "I'm going to scream if you don't leave me alone!" Panicking, she wondered if the intruder was Spellman or, even worse, Valdez himself. Had he been watching her in his crystal Orb? Had he come to punish her for her inability to deliver Scott to him? She took another step back.

"Please—" whispered a voice.

Tessa dropped her bag in her haste to get away. She had run some distance before she heard the voice again, closer now. "Don't run! It's me! It's Scott!"

She stopped and slowly turned around but still couldn't see anyone. "Where are you? Why can't I see you?" She touched a nearby tree. "Can you transfigure yourself into an English Oak?"

"No!" Scott stepped from behind a clump of large evergreens and into the clearing. "Transfiguration is an old wives' tale, everyone knows that!"

A small smile spread across Tessa's face but Scott's face was solemn and unsmiling. Tessa's grin faded as she picked up her book bag. "Why are you here?" she asked. "You came looking for me, didn't you?"

"Alan Garvin said some of the guys saw you running this way. I thought we ought to talk," he explained.

"Oh," Tessa said quietly. She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, what would you like to talk about?" _As if I didn't know_ , she thought with a frown.

"Something's bothering you. I don't pretend to know what it might be, but I can tell you're spooked about something and you feel like you have to keep your feelings about it to yourself. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"If I told you what I'm dealing with now, I'd die." _Literally_ , Tessa thought.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" asked Scott. "You don't trust me."

"It's not a question of trust." Tessa knew that Scott was trying to be his kind self and help her, but frankly, he was beginning to get on her nerves. Why wouldn't he leave this alone? "There are some things that I can't share with you. All I can tell you is that I haven't seen anyone else in a romantic setting since I arrived at Briarwood and that any lies I might have told were for the greater good. I know that sounds cryptic right now, but hopefully the end result will be one we can all live with."

Tessa bit her lip and wondered if perhaps she had gone too far. She'd know for certain if a letter arrived at her breakfast table tomorrow with another unsigned note inside.

_Scott looks thoroughly confused_ , Tessa thought. _He's only eighteen! He's used to thinking about football and homework and classes and where to stash his Playboy magazines!_ She knew she had to tell him something he would understand. "I promise you that when the time is right, I'll tell you everything you want to know," she offered. "I realize this isn't what you want to hear."

Scott sighed with disappointment. "All right," he said. "I just thought I'd try one more time," he added, looking down at his hands.

"Can we still be friends?" Tessa asked him hopefully.

"I can live with that, I guess." Scott smiled for the first time all day. They both reached out and shook each other's hand. As they did so, each could feel something akin to a jolt of electricity pass through them as their fingers touched. Tessa's heart melted as she felt his hand in hers. She wanted to pull him into her arms and not let him leave until the next morning. She mentally reminded herself of the age difference between herself and Scott. After tomorrow night, she wouldn't see him again, unless a miracle occurred.

_Keep your cool_ , Tessa, she thought. She knew that she had to keep the seduction going at all costs, at least long enough to get him to the glen. Her desire for him would make that part of her job easy. Unfortunately, the fact that she thought highly of him might also be her downfall. He was too nice, too caring. The idea of stringing him along, just to desert him when the most radical magical group in the world would attack him made her heart ache. It was all she would be able to do not to tell him everything. If she was to save herself and her family, she couldn't.

Scott tried hard not to notice the softness of Therese's skin or the scent of her perfume on the breeze as he shook her hand, but it was impossible. He tried to convince himself that she wasn't good for him, that his heart was just going to be broken again. _She's bad news, and you're going to have a worse reputation than Garvin if you keep seeing her. But her eyes are so expressive and warm, and her kisses drive me to the brink of insanity_...

Both spoke at the same time: "I think we ought to get back to Briarwood."

"Why don't we stay here for awhile?"

They both laughed.

"Why do you want to stay here?" asked Tessa.

"Well, let's just say that Alan Garvin and I had a bit of an altercation at dinner, and I'm probably in a whole world of trouble," Scott said sheepishly.

"Oh dear. What about?" Tessa asked, fairly sure she knew the answer already. "Well, he insulted your honor, and I, well—"

"Defended it?"

"Well, yeah."

Tessa blushed. Lifting her eyes to his she commented, "That's sweet, but I'm not worth fighting for. Really, I'm not."

"You are worth defending, Therese, whether you want to believe it or not." Scott wondered how, despite her secretiveness and her obvious lies, Therese could manage to hold him completely submissive just by gazing at him with those mysterious blue eyes of hers. He wanted to know more about her. He craved to talk about so many things with her, to share his deepest desires and secrets with her. Something about the way she smiled at him made him want to do fall over himself just to try to impress her. Despite her rather eccentric behavior, she was a beautiful enigma shrouded in a Briarwood sweater.

Tessa took his hand. "Let's get back to the school, Scott. People's tongues will wag if we are caught coming in late again."

"Oh, trust me when I say they already are," Scott muttered and found he didn't care at all. He took her other hand in his and squeezed it. Each leaned towards the other until their lips toughed lightly. Then, with a surprising forcefulness, Scott pulled Tessa tightly into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. He could feel a searing heat coming from her body as he pressed his own against her. He felt his cock twitch and tighten against his underwear. Her eyes flew open, intensely focused on him, as if trying to peer into his soul, and it frightened him a little. She knew.

"I shouldn't—"

"You should!"

"But what about—"

"Shut up!" His kisses were insistent, sloppy, and not at all gentle, but Tessa didn't care. His hands roamed everywhere, in her hair, on her arms, caressing her face. She tried to remain cool and calm but it soon gave way to raw passion as she kissed him back, unzipping the light sweatshirt he wore and slipping her hands inside so that she could reach the buttons of his shirt. She fumbled with them for a split second before she was able to gain access to his lean chest.

Scott kissed Therese's neck. He fell to his knees, but not before he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to the ground with him, his lips working lower on her neck, to her collarbone. He reached inside her sweater and touched the hem of her blouse. He heard himself moan as Therese's fingers moved feather-like across his chest. It felt so good, so right, and despite Mallory's warnings and his own misgivings, he needed to be with Therese and he knew it. Scott knew that he ought to stop, that he shouldn't do what he was doing, that it was wrong. He understood that it wasn't the time or the place, and that, if caught with her the rumor mill would be operating full bore the next morning. The mixed signals he was sending her weren't fair; he couldn't break up with her in the morning and then make out with her later the same day! She was going to be confused and upset

. _But this feels awesome_ , he thought as he unbuttoned the top button of Therese's blouse. He groaned, his lips pressed against her soft cheek as he felt her fingertips skim the waistband of his jeans. _You know better! Damn conscience,_ Scott thought as, with great difficulty, he forced his hands from Tessa's blouse and reluctantly ended the kiss.

"I'm sorry. My mind is mixed up. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. We agreed to be friends but I don't do this with people who are just my friends. Heck, I've never done this with anyone else but you. I don't know what it is about you that makes me go crazy, but..." he trailed off.

Tessa's cheeks flushed pink. "Do you only want to be friends?" she squeaked, attempting to smooth down her hair and failing.

"Yes. No. I don't know! One moment I hate you, and the next moment, well..."

"I think I know where you're going with this," Tessa told him. Then, in a move designed solely to accomplish the plan of Valdez, she asked, "Why don't we go out tomorrow night as planned and get to know one another?" She crossed her fingers behind her for luck.

"I think that's wise," Scott agreed. "But we ought not to tell Mallory about it. She's liable to go off on me. I get the distinct impression that she doesn't like you much."

"That's the understatement of the millennium," Tessa agreed.

Scott stood up and then offered a hand and pulled Tessa to her feet. "Let's go back to the Academy," he said. "I'm going to have to face the music about Alan sooner or later."

"Okay."

"Therese?" "What?" "I'm sorry about what I said about how you suck at Trig."

"Don't be. I do."

"I know, but—"

"Just leave it alone. And make sure Dr. Butler doesn't ever pair us up again," Tessa said with a smile. Together, they left the edge of the forest and made their way back to the school.

***

Mallory and Eric were worried. It was late and they hadn't seen Scott all evening. Therese wasn't around either and Mallory had the sinking suspicion that Scott had gone looking for her after his fight with Alan.

"Maybe we ought to go and look for him," she suggested, closing the book she had been pretending to read.

"No. He's just going to resent us if we do that, Mallory. He's a big boy. He can handle himself. I think he's proven that on several occasions." Eric said. He finished the sentence he had been writing and tossed his pen onto the common room table.

"He's proven that he has an extraordinary amount of luck," said Mallory with a trace of concern in her voice, "and this situation has nothing whatsoever to do with that! Therese isn't exactly painful to look at, in case you haven't noticed. She's a female, and as both you and Scott have shown on more than one occasion, women can be just as hard to deal with, if not more so. Remember the cheerleaders at last year's state championship football game?" she asked with a penetrating stare.

Eric couldn't help but remember. Closing his eyes, he grinned at the mental image of the cheerleaders dancing seductively on the field, tossing their hair and blowing kisses to the crowd. "Now that's an experience I hope I remember when I'm old and gray," he thought aloud as he opened his eyes.

Mallory crossed her arms and shook her head as she gave Eric a stern look. "You might have to accept the fact that his feelings for her are legitimate and there probably isn't anything we can say to convince him not to see her," Eric said. "It's going to painful to watch, but one day Scott's going to see her as you and I do and then he'll deal with it. But it isn't going to happen right now."

"I suppose you're right. I mean, if Butler won't even help us, then it must mean he can't be too worried. Maybe we shouldn't be, either."

Mallory attempted a smile but couldn't quite succeed. "Still, something doesn't feel right."

Eric was about to make a snappy retort when the door to the common room door swung open and Scott stepped in, Therese behind him. The two were holding hands. Eric couldn't help but notice the love-struck looks each gave the other, as if they were the only two people in the world. He also noticed the twig caught in Scott's light brown hair and Tessa's incorrectly buttoned shirt.

"Hello, you two," Mallory said coolly.

It was only then that Scott noticed that his friends were in the room. "Uh, hi guys," he said. "I was just out finding Therese. I didn't want...you know, for her to get lost on the grounds...that is, at night. She's not familiar with— "

"Give it a rest, Scott!" Eric said with a friendly smile and an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to explain anything to us." He nudged Mallory, who was scowling, hard in the ribs with his elbow when she opened her mouth to comment otherwise. "What you do and who with isn't out business."

Scott was surprised. "Er, yeah," he said. "I know that. I just thought that..."

"You can do whatever you want and with whomever you choose," Mallory said, smiling broadly in an attempt to belay her true feelings, which were still ones of deep suspicion.

Scott seemed genuinely pleased. "Thanks, guys," he offered, putting an arm around Therese. "I'm glad you feel that way, because we're going out tomorrow night." He saw no reason to keep their date a secret anymore if Eric and Mallory were okay with his relationship with Therese.

"Well, I don't know about all of you, but I'm exhausted! I'm heading to bed," Therese said, stretching. She lifted her face up to Scott's and gave his cheek a peck. He blushed. Mallory looked ready to vomit. Eric took her hand and squeezed it.

~12~

In Which All Hell Breaks Loose

Dr. Awan gave a faint sigh as she entered her classroom. Rarely did she descend the stairs leading from her classroom, as she contended that it exposed her too heavily to the mundane. Besides, she had classes in the morning to prepare for and the Fates had indicated that another day on the study of crystal magic would be appropriate for the junior class as they were going to have a quiz soon.

She glided across the room as if on a cloud, sat down at her desk and consulted her lesson book. In neat script, she had penciled in a discussion of the properties of Agate, Fluorite and Hazel crystals for next week. If she spent several minutes on each, she would finish the unit by next Tuesday and could administer a test on the following Friday.

Frankly, she was relieved that her unit on crystal magic was almost over. The Department of Magical Defense had been none too excited at the prospect of allowing her to borrow Dumortierite to show a group of kids. It was considered a dangerous gem, whose properties should be revealed only to those who wished to pursue the magical arts exclusively, they thought, not something that every Tom, Dick and Harry ought to get their hands on. Franklin Reid still held quite a lot of sway with the older members of the Bureau, however, and had pulled the strings necessary to allow her to borrow the crystal for a few days in the name of education. Still, Marziya Awan was excited at the prospect of giving it back.

As she had done each night since Elmer Butts had hand delivered the Dumortierite crystal to her classroom, she opened the box to investigate the contents inside, just to make sure everything was safe.

Camille Violette was closing the door to her classroom when she heard the scream. It sounded as if it had come from Dr. Awan's room. What on earth was going on in there? She wondered as her gaze crept up the stairwell. The screaming continued.

Rolling her eyes, Violette deduced that Dr. Awan had read her tea leaves incorrectly again. "Is everything all right up there?" she called. She heard bumping as Dr. Awan raced across her classroom, coupled with the sound of hysterical ranting and raving. Violette heard the slam of the classroom door and the sound of the teacher racing down the stairs. Dr. Awan's ashen face appeared in the stairwell.

"Ms. Violette! Something terrible has happened! Someone has stolen the Dumortierite crystal!" Dr. Awan was wringing her hands, panicking. "We've got to do something! Dumortierite is extremely powerful and in the wrong hands...I don't even want to think about what the ramifications would be!"

_For once_ , thought Violette, _a legitimate problem_. 'Have you looked everywhere? Are you absolutely sure it is missing?"

Dr. Awan nodded, the large gold hoops in her ears jiggling wildly.

"Oh, dear God! Reid must be notified immediately!"

***

"Damned, hormone-driven teenagers," William Butler grumbled, pushing his way past two seniors who were all over each other like dogs in heat. "What I wouldn't give for a half-day," he muttered as he stepped into his classroom and slammed the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and sighed at the huge pile of ungraded assignments in his inbox. _I'm going to be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest_ , he thought, picking up "old red," his grading pen.

He had just begun to grade papers when he noticed the newspaper that the Decatur girl had given him earlier. Placing the tests aside for a moment, he took a minute to skim the article. He saw the photo of Tessa Laughlin playing the piano and had to admit to himself that Mallory had been correct—Tessa and Therese could well be sisters. _That would be impossible, though_ , Butler thought to himself. _Michael and Linda Laughlin were well respected and well known. Everyone would know if they had two children! They have only one daughter and that's Tessa_. He looked over the article one more time, very closely, almost dissecting every sentence:

Intruders attacked Miss Laughlin in her home on the evening of the Loyalist banquet. Preliminary tests of the invitation to the banquet indicate that it was a fake. In a related story, the victim in Sunday's car bombing at the Covington Piano Studio has been identified through dental records as twenty-six year old Michelle Keegan. Ms. Keegan, a bookkeeper for the business, was Tessa Laughlin's business partner and former college roommate...

Butler put the paper down, his brow furrowed as he pondered what he had just read. He thought back to the night that Theresa Robichaud had appeared at the main entrance to Briarwood. It wasn't normal for an exchange student to arrive, unannounced any more than it was for Franklin Reid to have forgotten to mention her arrival at a staff meeting beforehand.

Mallory was right. Something was odd about Therese Robichaud. He paused, deep in thought. Then, tucking the newspaper under his arm, Dr. Butler left the classroom and headed for the library.

***

"Come on, it's not like you want to go to shop class, is it?"

"Well, no, but if we're caught..."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I've got a fine sense of adventure but I don't want to be caught while we're sneaking out of the school. How sure are you that we can pull this off?"

"Trust me. We'll go through the kitchen. Lunch lady Janeke owes me a favor. She's not going to say a word." Scott gave Tessa's hand a squeeze. "Half the fun is the possibility of getting caught, you know!"

Tessa kissed his cheek. "Oh, all right then. You are hopeless, you know. See you in a couple hours?"

"All right." Tessa watched him leave with a mixture of excitement and profound sadness. She trudged up the stairs to the empty dormitory and sat upon her bed. On one hand, Tessa was pleased. Mallory and Eric, while not one hundred percent supportive of her relationship with Scott, had told him that he was free to see whomever he wanted to, taking some of the pressure of being discovered off her. If she played her cards right, she would see her parents soon.

On the other hand, she, Tessa Laughlin, was mere hours away from doing the unthinkable: betray Scott's love and deliver him helpless to Raphael Valdez. She tried to shut off the mental image of Scott crying out in the last seconds of his life—perhaps calling for his dead mom, or his dad, or, God forbid, her. She could almost see his eyes boring holes into her soul, his simple "why" echoing in her ears as if he'd already spoken, as he crumpled in a heap to the ground.

She could see herself rushing to Scott's side, only for Valdez's Visionary Coalition members to hold her back. Spellman would grab her by the hands, and this time there would be no place for her to run, nobody to save her as he forced her to the ground, pulling at her clothes, and achieving that which he couldn't in the Room 411. The Visionary Coalition and Valdez would laugh cruelly as Spellman forced himself upon her, and she would be powerless to stop it.

_Get a grip, woman_ , she thought. _Calm down, you have to do this, if Scott sees you in this state, he will know something's wrong_!

"Stop!"

"Stop what?" asked a voice.

Tessa jumped, startled. She turned around and saw Sandra Brown and Shoshana Lieberman staring at her. They had just come from gym, she suspected. Sandra's blond tresses were pasted to her face with perspiration and Shoshana was wiping her sweaty face with a towel.

"Uh, nothing," Tessa said weakly. "I'm just worried about something."

"It wouldn't be your date with Scott would it?" asked Shoshana coyly.

"How do you know about that?"

"We have our ways." Sandra smiled. "You've managed to turn Scott into quite the little rule breaker. It's rather sweet."

"Don't tell on him," Tessa pleaded. If the girls told someone, she knew that Scott would get a detention. If he got detention, the chances of her being able to lure him away from Briarwood would be nil. She didn't want to think about the consequences. "You'll keep this all quiet, right?"

"Well, duh, Robichaud," Sandra said. "If you and Scott get caught, you're going to ruin it for the rest of us."

"That's right!" Tessa crossed her fingers. "Mum's the word, right? Stick together, and all that?" she asked hopefully. With relief, she watched the pair nod their heads in agreement.

"Are you worried about what you're going to wear?" asked Shoshana.

"Um, as a matter of fact I am!" Tessa put on a happy face. "I-I don't know what I ought to wear...."

"Ah," said Sandra, nodding knowingly. "Therese, it looks as if Shoshana and I got here just in the nick of time." She pulled a tube of kiwi lip-gloss out of the pocket of her purse and applied some to her lips. "You might say that Shoshana and I are the resident fashion experts around here."

Tessa mentally rolled her eyes; she could see where this was headed.

"Uh- huh?" "That's right! So, you have a date with Scott Madison tonight?" She circled the bed and gave Therese an appraising look. "What are you planning? Are you looking just to get to know him better as a friend or are you hoping for a quick screw?"

Tessa's eyes widened.

Shoshana gave her pal a swat. "Leave her alone!" She smiled at Therese. "Don't pay any attention to her. She hasn't been laid in three days and she's experiencing withdrawal. What are your plans for the evening?"

"Well, he said we were going to dinner and probably to a movie."

"Okay, then, I think I might have exactly what you need!" Shoshana exclaimed. She hurried over to her chest and pulling out several pieces of clothing. She found what she wanted in a matter of moments and threw the garments over to Tessa, who grabbed the pieces reflexively. Shoshana had thrown her a pair of jeans and a belly shirt. The top was fuchsia, not one of Tessa's favorite colors. She shot a look of displeasure at Shoshana.

"Well, at least try it on!"

Tessa took the clothes into the bathroom and put them on. She examined herself critically in the mirror. The jeans clung to her body as if painted on and the short top barely reached her midriff. She could see every bit of fat that she had on her body and it made her a little ill. If her goal was to look like a tart, then mission accomplished.

Tessa pushed open the door to the bathroom and announced, "This is not going to work, Shoshana. Let's try again, huh?"

Next, Shoshana handed her a silver dress with fringe lining the bottom, and a pair of strappy stiletto sandals. Tessa took the clothes wordlessly into the bathroom and stepped into them. The dress was lovely. The material seemed to change colors as she turned in front of the mirror and the fringe was something that Tessa just adored. However, she wasn't fond of the spaghetti straps on the top. They kept slipping. And speaking of slipping, that's exactly what she did when she attempted to take a step in the sandals with the five-inch heels. As she crashed to the floor in a painful heap, she remembered why she had never been enamored with the latest fashions and fads as a teenager. She wasn't graceful enough to pull them off!

She stepped out of the shoes. Picking them up, she walked out of the bathroom. "I like the style of the dress, but it needs more modifications. Nobody would wear this to a movie! And I won't wear these on a bet!" She indicated the shoes with a curt nod of her head.

"Those may not have been the best choice, anyhow," Sandra said, "unless you want to tower over him. Of course," she added, looking down at her petite frame, "that would never be an issue with me! I'm the shortest person in our year!"

"I think I have something that'll work," Shoshana put forth.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Red," Tessa answered slowly. "Is this outfit going to be appropriate?"

"Don't worry, Therese. Like Sandra said a bit earlier, you're in good hands!"

Tessa didn't know whether to be happy or be really, really scared.

***

Scott was more nervous than he could ever remember being in his life. He had never taken a girl out before. The only thing he had ever had that was close to a date was the Valentine Ball with Shoshana Lieberman last year, and that hadn't been a huge success. Of course, it hadn't helped matters any that he had barely considered Shoshana a friend, and that the person he'd had a crush on at the time, Mandy Keaton, had turned down Scott's request for a date to go with Antonio Peña instead. Scott had sulked for much of the evening, before leaving altogether, having danced just once with Shoshana, if one could call it that (he had stepped on her toes no less than six times). He grimaced at the thought and told himself that he was going to have to apologize to her for that someday.

He wanted his night with Therese to be something she'd remember forever. She was, in his mind, about as perfect as a girl could be: clever, funny, mysterious and sexy all at once. Scott had a feeling that, despite everything, Therese was destined to be with him. He knew he felt this way, but what about Therese? Did she feel the same way? How could he convey this to her through the course of this date?

Scott knew that he needed help, but the only guys in the dormitory were Ethan and Mark _. Lucky me_ , he thought _, I'm going to ask the two biggest jokers in the school for help in the romance department_. Still, they have taken girls up to the Room 411, which is more than he'd had ever done. They said so themselves. Maybe they were not so obnoxious around members of the opposite sex.

He took a deep breath. "Hey, guys...I was wondering if you could help me with something."

The two friends stopped what they were doing which, Scott noticed, looked a lot like homework.

"What do you want, young lover-man?" Ethan asked with a wide smile.

"I'm going out with Therese tonight, and I... don't know what I should... erm... do," Scott said, a bit uncertainly. "I need advice."

Mark stood up and closed his schoolbook. "Scott, Scott, Scott." He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "From what I hear, it's us mere mortals who should be asking you for advice."

"Yeah," agreed Ethan. "We heard about you getting some action at the pool the other night!"

Scott blushed. Did everyone know about that?

"If you got Sandra Brown's version, I can guarantee that it was grossly exaggerated." Scott walked over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a royal blue sweater and some gray slacks. "So, how do these things normally go? Dates, I mean? Should I take her to dinner first, then a movie, or should we go see the movie first? Would a romantic walk be too much? How far can I go with her? What if she wants to kiss? Is it okay in public? And what if she wants to do more that that? I mean, I don't know if I could—that is, I've never...do they rent rooms by the hour, or...should I bring a condom along?" Scott knew that he was chattering too much, but frankly, he felt more nervous now than he had before any football game, and that included the night that they won the state championship. Slipping on his pants, he glanced up at Mark and Ethan, his only paragons of maturity at that moment, for answers.

The two looked at each other with eyebrows raised. "If you make comments like 'room by the hour' in front of Therese, I assure you condoms will not be an issue, Scott!" Mark said, laughing hard. "I guess it's a good thing you came to us, young grasshopper. Allow us to give you some tips. First off, slow the heck down; it's only a first date! Sex isn't even going to come up. You'll be lucky to get under her blouse."

"What if she doesn't wear a blouse?"

Mark closed his eyes for a long second and shook his head in amazement at his teammate's hopelessness. "It's time to bring out the big guns, I think," he said to Ethan, who nodded in agreement.

As Scott pulled his sweater over his head, he watched Ethan go over to his own chest of drawers and pull out something long and shiny. The boy held the shiny object in front of him for a moment or two, chuckled, and brought it over to where Scott stood. Scott saw Mark stifle a laugh with his hand.

"Scott Madison, you're number than a pounded thumb. That being said, I hereby present you with this medallion. I've never needed it myself, preferring to rely on my own good judgment and wits, but in your case, it's fitting that you should wear it," Ethan said, slipping it over Scott's head with much aplomb.

The medallion was heavy on its chain and cold as it touched Scott's warm skin. He reached into the sweater and pulled out the ornament. There was a picture of a man with his hands clasped in prayer. There was a halo over the man's head and the inscription, Saint Jude. "Saint Jude?" he asked, confused. "What is this? Why are you giving this to me?"

"Saint Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. Which," Ethan said with unmerciful glee, "is what you are right now. A lost cause."

"You'll be lucky if you're in one piece after this date," Mark said, equally amused.

Well, a little luck couldn't hurt. Scott dropped the chain back into his sweater and picked up a pillow. Hurling it at Mark, he muttered, "Nice help, guys. Thanks so much."

***

"Why, good afternoon, William," Mrs. Flynn, the head librarian, called as the surly-looking trigonometry teacher entered the library. "You're usually not in here this time of day. Can I help you find something?"

"I'm looking for some yearbooks from past years," Butler replied. "I don't suppose you could tell me where they are?" he asked, the scowl not leaving his face. Mrs. Flynn ignored his sarcasm. "Certainly. They're in the stacks on the far edge of the library, next to the magazines. But what are you needing the yearbooks for?"

Dr. Butler chose to ignore the librarian and made his way past rows and rows of books. He skimmed the shelves until he found what he was looking for. Pulling the volumes from the shelf, he made himself comfortable at a desk and began to flip through the pages. Butler had a hunch about Therese's behavior that he hoped wasn't a correct one, but what Miss Decatur had told him earlier, coupled with his original suspicions, didn't seem to equal a different solution. If she truly was the daughter of Scarlet Guard members, there was a possibility that something truly bad was afoot and Dr. Reid needed to know soon.

As he continued to pore through the pages of one yearbook, then another, however, his mood became lighter; he didn't see what he feared he might. Pulling open the last volume in his lap, Butler took special care to go over all of the photos of the students who lived in each of the three main dorms. His eyes rested on the members of Cumberland dorm first. They had been an especially nasty bunch that year, he remembered. Of course, it _had_ been his first year at Briarwood. That had to count for something. There was Marty Snell and Francine Tibbets, both currently in prison for extortion. He saw Leroy Tandy, a bright young man who chose to hang himself with jump rope rather than face charges that he had defected from the Loyalists to join the Visionary Coalition.

Butler shook his head and turned the page to the York Hall photos. Few of the faces triggered any memories. It had been too many years and he never cared much for the students of that particular house enough to get to know them well. The next page featured the Oxfords. The group was sitting together at a long table, apparently doing homework. _Ah_ , thought Butler, _the industrious, if somewhat boring members of Oxford House!_ His eyes pored carefully over the photo. He saw Cindy Hersey, a raven-haired beauty who, as he understood, was rather a famous fashion designer now. Next to her sat another girl whose name escaped him, but he could distinctly remember giving her a weeks' worth of detentions for destroying his office in a fit over a poor mark. He chuckled. _Those Oxfords sure got their panties in a twist where grades were concerned._ He was about to close the book when one of the Oxford students caught his eye.

The female student had wavy, shoulder length brown hair, a wide mouth and the largest blue eyes he had ever seen. She was sitting apart from most of the other Oxfords, strumming a guitar and appeared to be singing. A few of her classmates sat around her, clapping in time to the tune.

He recoiled as an unwanted comprehension poured over him. The girl in the photo was a dead ringer for the current Therese Robichaud, except for the hair color. However, the caption underneath the photo listed her name as Tessa Laughlin, age fifteen. A freshman when the photo was taken, she and Therese were identical, right down to the shapes of their eyes. Knowing that the Laughlin's had only one daughter, Butler knew that Tessa was not a twin. She couldn't be—she would be about twenty-four years old now.

The more he thought about it the more obvious it seemed: Therese Robichaud and Tessa Laughlin were the same. But how had it been accomplished? Who was behind it? What was the motive?

He thought again for a long moment about Miss Decatur's comments about the girl. She had broken a mirror, was in the hospital wing on her first night at the school and was hopelessly in love with Scott Madison. Odd that she would select him of all people to become pals with. Or was it? Why would a twenty-four year old woman pretend to be something she wasn't? What would her motivation be?

Oh, no.

Dr. Butler stood up from the desk in such a hurry that he knocked the yearbooks to the floor. Mrs. Flynn rushed over to see what the matter was. Butler brushed past her without so much as a glance, his face grim.

"Honestly!" she exclaimed. "The teachers are sometimes worse than the kids!"

***

"This is most disturbing." Franklin Reid paced behind his desk, his fingertips at his lips. He turned to his Egyptian colleague, his expression grave. "You have no idea who would have taken the crystal?"

"No!" cried Dr. Awan, her voice no longer misty, but shrill and alarmed. "I've tried all sorts of techniques to draw forth the information, but alas, nothing is working." She wrung her hands together, the bangles on her wrists jingling loudly.

Violette snorted. "Well there's a surprise," she muttered.

Dr. Awan shot her an annoyed glare.

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Ladies, ladies!" Reid stepped between the two women, hands up in an attempt to make peace. "What's important is that we need to find that crystal. In the wrong hands, it will cause pandemonium!" He nodded to Dr. Awan. "You have been discussing crystal magic with the students? Had you discussed the Dumortierite in particular?" Reid prodded gently.

The teacher lowered her head in thought. "Yes, I did," she said. "I mentioned it to the junior class just this week."

"Then York Hall is where we search first," said Reid with finality.

"Do you think that one of them might have taken the stone?" Violette asked. "Well, unless anyone else has any other ideas, then yes."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Dr. Butler walked into the room, his face grave.

"Headmaster, I'm afraid we have a situation on our hands."

***

Scott sat with Mark and Ethan in the common room, one leg jiggling nervously as he fiddled with the collar of his sweater for the third time in just as many minutes. He held a bouquet of daisies in one sweaty hand. The daisies had been Ethan's brilliant idea. "Girls just seem to have a thing for flowers," Ethan said.

_Whatever_ , Scott thought _. I can just chalk it up to one more thing I need to learn about the opposite sex._

The sound of footfalls on the stairwell jolted him back into the present. Shoshana Lieberman stepped into the common room; her eyes were alight with merriment. "Gentlemen, welcome! For many hours, we prepared her. We experimented with clothes, hair, makeup—Therese's whole image has been transformed. Therese insisted it couldn't be done; we knew it could!" Shoshana grinned as she looked up the stairwell.

"Given what we had to work with, admittedly, the task was seemingly impossible: How does one transform an ordinary, plain girl into a seductive enchantress? Sandra and I were, as always, up to the challenge of a fashion emergency, and after what felt like an eternity, we believe we have succeeded."

Sandra, who had not made an appearance yet, was giggling on the stairs. Scott stood up, and took a few steps toward Shoshana. "Gentlemen, we give to you, Miss Therese Robichaud!" cried Sandra, leaping into view with a flourish and a bow. She stood up straight again, stepped aside and allowed Tessa to step into the common room.

Tessa shyly stepped through the entrance. She lifted her eyes to meet Scott's, playing with her hands as she did so. Scott's throat went dry. Before him stood a young woman transformed.

He had always thought Therese pretty, but something about the way Sandra had fixed her makeup and the clothing that Shoshana had carefully chosen added to her beauty. Shoshana and Sandra may have been two of the dizziest girls in school, but he had to admit that when they were involved with a craft they enjoyed, they worked to their fullest potential. Before him stood an example of just that. _What have I gotten myself into_? Scott wondered.

Tessa gazed at Scott. _He looks so timid, standing there with his newly shined shoes and his daisies. He's never been on an actual date before. He's insecure, and is afraid he's going to say or do the wrong thing. I'm taking away from him something that should be so pure, so innocent. May God have mercy on my soul_. For the umpteenth time since the whole mess with Valdez began, Tessa wished that she could back out of the deal with no harm done to anyone.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Scott answered back. "Uh, here," he said, holding out the daisies.

Tessa accepted them. "Thanks."

Each stood before the other nervously, as if they were meeting for the first time. Seconds turned into moments, moments into minutes.

Mark cleared his throat. "Well, as enlightening as this conversation is, I think the date has now begun. I think we ought to leave the young lovers alone. What do you think?" he asked Ethan, Sandra and Shoshana. They nodded and backed away from the love-struck pair, who continued to stare at each other as if they were the only two on the planet.

Scott broke the silence first. "I was planning to take you to dinner. How does Le Bistro sound?"

_Wow,_ Tessa thought, _Le Bistro. An eighteen-year old was taking her to the most expensive restaurant in Pottle Point_! Her ex-boyfriend hadn't even taken her there and they had dated over a year. _Gee_ , Tessa mused, _if Scott lives past tonight, he'll make some girl his own age happy._

Fingering the chain around her neck nervously, she said, "That sounds great." She stood close to him and took his hand. "Let's go!"

***

Eric and Mallory didn't share any classes together on Fridays, so when they saw each other again, it was almost dinnertime. Eric saw that his girlfriend didn't look happy; in fact, she looked rather tired. He gave a small wave to her as she descended the stairs from physics class, her book bag slung over one shoulder and an expression on her face that seemed to say, "greet me cheerfully and I'll tear your head off!" Never in his life had he seen her look bitchier.

"You won't believe what the cow was doing this morning," Mallory grumbled, taking a seat on a hallway bench next to her friend and yawning. "She was singing in the shower, Eric," she added as if this were a major crime, "singing! She woke the entire girl's dorm at six o'clock!" There was no doubt in Eric's mind that Mallory was referring to Therese.

"Scott hasn't been a picnic, either," he remarked as he took a drink of his Coke. "He talked about her so much last night that I finally told him to fuck off and if he said another word about her I was going to give him as good as he gave Garvin the other night."

Mallory sighed. "I hope this faux 'romance' is over with soon. I miss the old Scott. Can't he just go back to moping over Mandy Keaton?" she asked.

"I think Mandy's days as the apple of Scott's eye are over," Eric said solemnly. "She's been replaced, whether we like it or not." He glanced at his watch. "Well, it's Tuna Helper night in the cafeteria, so we'd better hurry if we want first dibs."

Mallory opened her mouth to agree but was cut off. "Mallory Decatur?" called a voice.

She turned around as a heavyset girl with stringy brown hair and a retainer stood before her, an envelope in her hand.

"Yeah?" "This just came for you in the main office," said the girl. She handed the letter to Mallory, who took it and inspected the return address. She discovered that the mail was from Mrs. Rioux, headmistress of Wellington Academy. It was also marked "URGENT."

"Thanks, er—" began Mallory, glancing upward, but the heavyset girl was gone. She raised her eyebrows and peered down the hall before concentrating on the letter once more.

"Quite late in the day for mail, isn't it?" asked Eric. "Yeah," she agreed, slitting open the envelope with her index finger. She pulled out the letter, shook the paper out and skimmed it. Eric watched, as Mallory's face grew whiter and whiter. The farther down the page she read, the more her hands shook. "Oh God! We have to find Scott. NOW!" she exclaimed, panic reflecting in her eyes.

"What's the matter? What does the letter say?" Eric reached for the letter and began to read it.

"There is no Therese Robichaud," Mallory babbled as her boyfriend read. "She doesn't exist! Wellington hasn't sent any exchange students here for years." She grasped Eric's shoulders. "Madame Rioux seems to think we've been the victim of a hoax. They don't know who this girl is, and they didn't send her!"

"Shit! Then who did?" Realization hit Eric like a blast of arctic air. "Oh shit!"

"We have to tell Scott, right now!" Mallory cried. "He could be in real danger!" She turned in the direction of the York dormitory.

"But he'll never believe us," Eric said, laying a hand on her arm. "I say we forget about finding Scott and go and see Reid right now."

"But what if it's too late? For all we know, he's skipped his last class and has already gone. He said he was taking her out tonight!"

"Tonight's the operative word here. Scott wouldn't skip class and Therese will be right there with him, if I had to venture a guess. She's not going to let him out of her sight. Besides, Scott's not exactly been rational as far as she's concerned. If we tell him, he'll bolt. He's not going to believe us." Eric took Mallory's hand and squeezed it. "We've got to tell Reid, even if it means going behind Scott's back again."

Against her better judgment, Mallory chose not to argue. She thought that, if Therese wanted him to, Scott would have skipped the entire school day to spend time with her.

***

"So Therese Robichaud and Tessa Laughlin are one in the same," Reid stated with a sigh.

"I think so, based on all I've seen," Dr. Butler told him. "Mallory Decatur and Eric Davis brought the problem to my attention. I perused yearbooks from several years ago to confirm my suspicions. I can say for sure that a clever young woman has infiltrated Briarwood."

Reid nodded. Pressing the intercom button on his desk, he contacted the front office and asked for Scott and Therese to be paged. "Therese—er, Tessa was placed in York Hall, was she not?" Reid asked.

Ms. Violette nodded.

"And it seems as if Tessa has made herself some friends during her stay here, is that also correct?" Reid asked. "Perhaps even made a special friend?"

"Scott Madison," breathed Butler. "He's fallen rather hard for the girl. And she for him, it would appear, over the course of the week. If it was all an act, it was Oscar-worthy."

"Ah yes. That was evident yesterday evening, when he beat up the Garvin boy at dinner," Reid said, shaking his head. "I penciled in a time to chat with him, but got interrupted by a phone call at the last minute and couldn't do it. I didn't realize things had gotten quite that heated between the Scott and Therese." He stood silent for a long time, mulling the situation over in his head. It was a lot to fathom.

"The work necessary to plant a spy in Briarwood Academy should have been immense. It should have taken the work of an extremely powerful person with many connections to pull it off, but the infiltration was actually quite easy. You see, Briarwood's students lead charmed lives, literally. The entire school is charmed only to let those who currently attend and alumni enter the grounds. Teachers and staff too, of course," he added, nodding in Dr. Butler's direction. "If Therese is who you believe she is, the protective wards wouldn't have detected her. After all, she is a former student, albeit for just a short while."

Reid bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment. Looking up at the three teachers in his office, he spoke again. "Based on what I have heard here today, news articles I have read from the _Daily Telegram_ , and mere speculations on my own part, it seems definite that Therese Robichaud is working for Raphael Valdez and the Visionary Coalition. I don't pretend to know the extent of the situation. Based on the fact that the Dumortierite crystal is missing I'm led to believe that Therese— Tessa played a part in its disappearance."

Reid suddenly looked older than his years. "Scott Madison's safety must be assured. It's the Scarlet Guard's Code of Honor. Each will look after the other."

Dr. Awan collapsed into a chair. "Therese knows all about the crystal's properties," she said as she wrung her hands. "I told her that crystal magic can be used for evil. I explained to the class that one's motives must be pure to use it effectively and that pure hatred was enough to cause major problems. I told them that the use of the crystal was so restricted that even Guardsmen didn't have access. I was borrowing it from the Department of Magical Defense! They're going to kill me!" She blew her nose into a hanky. "Therese knows enough about the Dumortierite crystal to destroy society as we know it."

"Okay, calm down, Marziya," Reid said. "I want you to go back to your room and take another look around to make sure the crystal didn't get put into another box by accident. If you don't find it, contact Carl Forester and tell him to issue an APB on it. Then—"

A knock on the door caused everyone to jump, startled. Reid crossed the room, assuming that Scott and Therese would be on the other side. Instead, he was surprised to see Eric and Mallory. "Dr. Reid, Scott Madison's in trouble! Therese Robichaud is a fraud!" Mallory thrust the letter from Mrs. Rioux into his surprised hand. "She's not even a student at Wellington! I knew that there was something weird about her and this is it!"

"I know, Miss Decatur. We just found out. Dr. Butler read the article you gave him and did some sleuthing in the library."

"You did?" Mallory asked, turning to the trigonometry teacher, who nodded.

"Mr. Reid?" sounded a nasal voice from the intercom. "We've paged York Hall, the practice field, the greenhouse and the shop. Neither Scott Madison nor Therese Robichaud is in the building. Do you want us to leave a message for them here in the office?"

The teachers exchanged worried glances. "Oh God, he's already gone?" Mallory asked. She turned to Eric. "I told you we should have gone for him first!"

"Miss Decatur, Mr. Davis, please sit down. I want you to tell us everything you know—leave nothing out. You knowledge of this situation may be the only defense we have!" Dr. Butler said.

"Defense?" Eric asked, worried.

"Unfortunately, yes. We have a bit of a situation on our hands," Ms. Violette explained.

"Is Therese a dangerous threat?" Mallory asked slowly. She clasped Eric's hand.

"The potential is there," commented Reid. "If Dr. Butler's suspicions are correct, and I'm guessing they are based on your letter, Therese Robichaud came to this school under false pretenses. Her motivation for coming here is unclear, but we have reason to believe it might not have been good. We understand that Scott's close to her. Given that you are his best friends, we're hoping that you might have some information we can use to find them."

"I knew he planned on taking Therese out, but he didn't mention sneaking out with her," Eric offered.

"When's the last time you saw him, Eric?" asked Ms. Violette.

"I saw him earlier this morning, with Therese. They were heading toward the cafeteria. But that was around lunchtime. I haven't seen them since. Scott wasn't at shop this afternoon, though.

"So he's got at least an hour on us, if not more," Dr. Butler speculated. Dr. Awan blew her nose again.

"If he sneaked out, I'd try Pottle Point first," Ms. Violette said. "It's the closest town and to the best of my knowledge, Scott doesn't have a car. Am I right?"

"Yes," answered Mallory. "Okay, we go to Pottle Point, then. Miss Decatur, I'd like you to come with me. You would know better where all the teenagers hang out," said Dr. Butler.

"Let me go back to York Hall first, sir." "Why?" "I want to go through Therese's things and see if she's been hiding anything. Maybe I can find clues as to where they went," Mallory answered. "I'll see if maybe someone knows where they went while I'm there."

"Be quick," growled Butler. "I expect you in front of the school in ten minutes."

"Eric, I want you and Ms. Violette to continue to search the school, just in case Scott and Therese might be somewhere where they couldn't hear a page," Reid said. "I'll contact Scott's uncle. He will need to be informed. "I'll also call Dr. Rioux and inform her that she might have a mole within her school." He cast a sharp glance in Dr. Awan's direction and handed her a box of Kleenex. "Marziya, help yourself to another tissue. After you've blown your nose, go back up to your classroom and look around again for that crystal. If we're lucky, you just misplaced it or put it in the wrong box. Cast a locator charm if you have to."

Dr. Awan nodded, bleary eyed, as she left the room, with Ms. Violette and Eric in tow. Reid sat at his desk and prayed that Dr. Butler's suspicions concerning Valdez were not correct.

~13~

Scott's Completion

The ambience of Le Bistro was, in a word, swanky. Tables barely large enough to hold two people dotted the formal dining room, their tops covered with elegant silver lamé tablecloths long enough to brush the polished marble floor. A live band was warning up on the upper level of the restaurant when Scott and Tessa arrived, escorted to their table by a young waiter named Claude who gave a small bow as he placed two large menus in front of the couple.

"Eez zere anything I can bring for you to drink zis evening?" he asked.

"Just some water for me," gulped Scott as he opened up his menu and glanced at the prices of the main dishes.

"Tea for me thanks," Tessa spoke. The waited bowed and left. "Scott!" whispered Tessa, looking over her menu at him. "I can't believe you ordered the water! The Evian is five dollars a bottle here!"

Scott groaned as his eye caught sight of this fact stated on the menu. Tessa frowned as she watched him feel for his wallet.

"Well, let's just hope that it's fresh," he said weakly. The Saint Jude medallion felt heavier on his chest, somehow.

"Uh, yes," Tessa said.

The conversation lapsed into silence, as each studied the menu. Tessa was astounded at the meal prices. She wondered just how he intended to pay for the meal. Normal eighteen-year old usually didn't have enough money on them to pay for such a fancy restaurant. Hell, normal adults usually didn't have enough money!

She glanced at Scott, who was studying the menu fervently, a small sheen of sweat visible on his brow. She watched as he mouthed the words of the entrees ( _how cute_ , she thought) and watched his eyes close heavily at the place where the price would be. _This is unfortunate_ , Tessa thought. _He brought me here to try to impress me. He wants this date to go well. He cares about making a good impression with me, and I know that he can't afford this. I need to do something quick,_ she thought, as she saw Scott shift uncomfortably in his chair and bite his lower lip.

The waiter came back to the table, order pad in hand. "Zis evening, ze chef has prepared a wonderful entrée of Escargots et Pommes de terre sautées," he advised.

_Whatever the hell that is_ , Tessa and Scott thought at the same time.

"Also ve have a rather nice Quiche Lorraine, if I might say so," he continued.

Scott looked at Tessa. "Um, ladies first," he said quietly.

"Uh..." Tessa looked up at the waiter, then at Scott. She couldn't embarrass him by ordering something he couldn't pay for later. "I'll have the consommé," she said, closing her menu and handing it to Claude. She smiled as she saw Scott visibly relax.

"Me too," Scott said with a grin. He gave his menu to the waiter, who was looking decidedly less happy to be serving the two patrons.

"As you wish," he frowned, taking the menus and leaving.

Tessa burst into giggles. "Did you see his face?" she cried. "I think he just saw his big tip go sliding down the drain!"

Scott snickered at the idea. "Yeah," he laughed. He reached across the table and took Tessa's hands in his. "Thanks."

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"For saving my ass just now," Scott answered. "I had no idea this place was so expensive, and I didn't want to say anything, because, well, you know, it would have been more than a little humiliating."

"Don't worry. Consommé is perfectly fine. To bring me to Le Bistro is probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment or two, then Scott asked, "So tell me about yourself, Therese. Are you an only child? Where do you come from? Any deep sinister secrets I ought to know about you before our relationship goes any farther?"

Tessa's hands flew to her face. _If this could get any harder_ , she thought miserably.

"Kidding about the last part, just kidding!" Scott laughed, catching her expression.

She smiled weakly. "Let's see...all about me, huh? Well, my name is Therese Maria Robichaud, I'm eighteen years old and my birthday is February third. I live just outside of Boston with my parents. I have no brothers or sisters but until recently I had a Yorkie named Spanky. I like the ballet, collecting Christmas ornaments and reading. How about you?"

"Scott Marshall Madison. My birthday is August 29. I'm jealous that you have a dog. I've always wanted one—a big dog, maybe a German shepherd. My parents, as you probably know, are dead, and my hobbies are football and finding inventive ways of staying awake in Dr. Awan's class, but I'm especially proud of my new hobby, which is you."

_Okay, I'm his new hobby. How very...eighteen Scott had just sounded! Let him have some fun,_ she thought guiltily. Despite the fact that she would soon hand him over to the Visionary Coalition she felt an odd sense of duty to Scott to make sure his date went well. This could be his last night on earth. She would indulge him.

***

Mallory completely emptied Therese's chest of drawers onto her bed. She searched desperately, trying to find a scrap of paper, a note, anything that might give her a clue as to where the couple went. She tossed aside a sweater, socks and some rather racy underwear before she came upon Therese's book bag, which rested to the left of the bureau. _This is all that's left. Please let something be in this bag_ , she prayed.

Mallory unzipped the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor. A lipstick tumbled out, followed by a brush, a pen and a thick notebook. _Damn it, nothing,_ she mused, disappointed. She picked up the notebook and opened it. It was filled with notes. _Therese took notes while she was here, all the time planning on delivering Scott to Valdez_. She read the material with interest. They were quite good. It appeared to Mallory that, if Therese was nothing else, she was extremely studious.

Mallory flipped past the trigonometry notes and discovered the notes Therese had taken over the properties of crystal magic from Dr. Awan's class. She pored over the descriptions of various crystals and their properties, all written out in Therese's elegant script. There were notes about Amblygonite crystals for mental sharpness, and Beryl, the original material of crystal balls. Therese had filled several pages with information about a rare crystal, Dumortierite.

Mallory read the notes on this crystal and her blood began to grow cold: Dumortierite helps turn away curses and unexpected waves of magical power organized attacks from a large group working against you. When magic hits the crystal, the deflected energy is sent back to its source, Therese had written. Then, in the margins of the notebook, Mallory read the following words: **Get Dumortierite to aid the cause.** It only took a moment for the cryptic words to register with Mallory. She grabbed the notebook and made a run for the door when she heard Shoshana Lieberman and Sandra Brown just outside:

"—And then the rubber flew across the room. You should have seen the look on Channing-Currier's face!"

"He's going to think he was born in detention. I guess this means that—"

"It goes, like, without saying. What was he doing with a condom in science class, anyway? Antonio wants to be a priest! He should have given it to Scott Madison. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know what he and Therese will be doing tonight."

Mallory threw the door open, startling the two girls. "Therese? What about her? What are she and Scott going to do?"

"Uh, nothing," Shoshana said, reddening. "It's not like I know anything about her!"

"Spill it!" Mallory grabbed the girl's arm and squeezed.

"No way! I don't know anything! I plead the Eighth!" Shoshana wrenched her arm away from the petite blond and rubbed it.

"That would be the Fifth," Sandra offered in a helpful voice.

Mallory squelched the desire to clock the two girls' heads together. "Are Therese and Scott already gone? Where were they going?"

"We promised we wouldn't say. If we tell on her and she gets caught— you know, the code of silence—" began Sandra.

"Oh shut up about the stupid code! Scott could be in danger. If you don't tell me where they went, I'll tell Ms. Violette about what you two did in her broom closet last month," Mallory threatened.

Both Sandra and Shoshana's face turned green. "You wouldn't."

"Try me." Mallory placed her hands on her hips. She spoke again, her voice higher-pitched and breathy: "Oh, Sandra, I wish Jerome could do that as well as you do!"

Shoshana clapped her hands over her ears, mortified. "All right, fine! She and Scott were planning to go to Pottle Point! Are you happy?"

"Moreso than I was a minute ago," Mallory answered. "What else do you know? Pottle Point's huge and I don't have a lot of time. Did Therese tell you where Scott was planning to take her?"

"Not specifically, no," answered Sandra. "She mentioned something about a movie. They sneaked out a while ago. Shoshana and I helped get her ready."

"Could you be more specific on the time?" Mallory asked.

"I don't really know, an hour? Two?" Sandra threw out. "What do you care about where Scott and Therese went, anyway? You need to give him his space, not act all 'mother hen' around him and criticize everyone he decides to see."

Mallory ran a hand through her blond hair impatiently. "Therese doesn't exist. She has been here under a false identity and Mr. Reid and the Doc think she's working for the Visionary Coalition!"

Shoshana's eyes grew wide. "Holy hell," she whispered, "and you let her borrow your mother's dress, Sandra. God, your mom's going to kill you when she finds out!"

"That dress is the least of my concerns," Mallory snarled, rolling her eyes. "Therese Robichaud is actually someone by the name of Tessa Laughlin and she's not eighteen, she's twenty-four! She might have killed her own parents, too! Nobody has been able to find them. If she'd be willing to harm her own family, Scott doesn't have a chance!"

"Oh no," Sandra said. "Would it help if we told you about all the make- out places in Pottle Point so that the Guard can search them? I mean, you wouldn't know where they are, after all."

Mallory blushed.

"Well, you wouldn't!" Shoshana pulled a small notebook and a pen from her purse. "Here are the places the cops never check...

***

Their light meal finished, Scott and Tessa exited Le Bistro arm in arm. They strolled down the main avenue of Pottle Point and presently came to the theater.

Scott's breathing quickened as he looked at the architecture of the building: the establishment was a throwback to the 1950's complete with an old-fashioned façade and a curtain that covered the movie screen until it was time to roll the film. He always loved going here.

"So what movie would you like to see?" Scott asked, pointing up to the marquee. "They don't play anything but classic films here, which I think is wicked cool. The plot lines are lame, but that's what makes them so much fun!"

Tessa bit her lip as she forced her eyes up to the marquee. How could she sit in a movie theater, hand in hand with Scott when she knew what was going to happen to him in a few short hours? The movie titles blurred before her as she strained to see.

"Are you all right?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean?" Tessa replied. "You looked so sad just now," Scott said. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tessa said with false cheeriness. "Just thinking about something that happened at school," she lied.

"Well, do you want to go back to Briarwood? Are you tired?"

Tessa's heart seemed to stop. "No, I want to stay here, with you. I don't want to go to a movie anymore, though. Uh, why don't we go for a walk and just talk together?" She reached for his hand, which he took in his own.

"Anything you want," Scott deferred. "Where do you want to go?"

Tessa looked to the right, where she knew the glen that Valdez wanted her to deliver Scott to was. Just a mile beyond that was the school. Her breathing shallow and her conscience tortured, she pointed and squeaked, "Let's go down that road."

As they walked, the main district of Pottle Point became smaller and smaller in the distance. Soon they found themselves on a dirt path that looked as if it hadn't been used for some time. The trees were thick and the scent of night filled the air with a heady perfume.

Presently they came upon a small clearing, where the dirt path ended and a lush patch of green grass began. Large bushes and tall trees formed a semi- circle, bordered by a bubbling brook. The full moon overhead filled the glen with gentle, pale light. As they had made their way to the clearing, Tessa noticed that Scott was no longer keeping up his end of the conversations. He seemed distracted and contemplative. "Penny for your thoughts," Tessa offered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"It's funny you'd want to come here," Scott said, one eyebrow raised.

Tessa's stomach clenched. Did he know what was going on? "W-why?"

"I discovered this place a couple of years ago when I was going through some tough times," Scott said. "It's quiet and peaceful and if I'm having a lousy time of things I can just come here and sit by the brook and think." He looked to the sky and stared at the stars. "Sometimes if things are really bad I come here and ask my parents for advice on stuff. My grandfather was great; so's my uncle, but grandpa is dead and my uncle's busy with his own work. The headmaster's been good too, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a person just wants to talk to his dad or mom."

"But Scott," Tessa said to him as gently as she knew how, "your parents are dead."

"Oh, I know that," Scott offered. "But I think they look down on me from Heaven sometimes, you know what I mean? I barely remember them anymore. I look at photos a lot but remembering actual things that I did with them takes some effort.

"My dad was great. I remember that he liked Squirrel Nut Zippers. You ever had those? They're chewy as all hell and you'll lose a filling if you try to pry the caramel out of your back teeth, but wicked good just the same. Anyway, he kept them in his shirt pocket and sometimes he'd let me reach inside and take one. They'd always be soft.

"My mother hated dogs. This one time she took me to the pet store in town because I really wanted a Lab. The one I wanted was huge and she was scared. When she asked the owner if the dog was good with kids, he said that it was and opened up the dog's cage. The dog lunged right at her and bit her on the hand. She had to have stitches."

Scott looked gravely at Tessa, whose throat was constricted with sadness. "They shouldn't have been at the house that day, my parents. They should have been at work but they weren't."

Scott dropped Tessa's hand and walked to the small brook that ran through the glen. He sat with his back to her, hunched over, looking smaller than he was. "Do you know why they weren't at work? I'll tell you: I was at school and I got a stomachache. The school secretary called my parents at work and told them to come and get me. When we got home, mom took me upstairs and put me into bed and then..."

Scott trailed off. Tessa made to move nearer to him, but thought better of it. Scott cleared his throat. "No more. I can't talk anymore about that." He turned around and faced Tessa, his eyes shiny with tears. "My parents have seen a lot of things, despite where they are. I think they watched me when I rode my first bike. I'm fairly sure that mom and dad cheered me on at my first football game. I'm pretty sure that they worried over me when I had my tonsils taken out in the seventh grade and I think that they can see me now, here with you." Scott held out his hand to Tessa. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I know my parents would have loved you."

_Oh Savior Jesus, meek and mild_ , Tessa prayed wordlessly, her despair deeper than she could have imagined. "Sit with me," she said, motioning towards the brook.

Scott nodded and the pair made themselves comfortable on the bank. Instinctively, Tessa put her arms around him and pulled him to her. "You had more heartache and pain on one day than most people will see in a lifetime," she said. "You've handled everything with so much grace and look how you've turned out—smart, athletic, well-adjusted. I know that your parents would be so proud of how you've turned out. You're a credit to them, Scott."

"If I hadn't gone home that day, though! I should have toughed it out!"

"Don't think like that!"

"I can't help it. I can't stop thinking about it! They died because I couldn't—

The lump that had lodged itself in Tessa's throat grew larger and, despite her best efforts, she began to cry. "Don't say anymore. Please don't make this harder than it already is." She moved away from him far enough to reach out and touch his cheek tenderly with the back of her hand. He nuzzled into the touch.

_I've never felt this way about anyone before_ , Tessa thought, _and it scares me_. Tessa harbored a secret: she was still a virgin. She wasn't a prude; she'd fooled around with guys before but had stopped just short of going to bed. With people she'd been with, there had been something that prevented her from wanting to go all the way with any of them. Every guy she had ever dated seemed to be after one thing and one thing only. Some had wanted it on the first date and some had been patient enough to stay with her for several months before they got bored or desperate or just asked her point-blank if she was a lesbian.

In Tessa's opinion, any man who wasn't willing to wait until she was ready to spread her legs for them wasn't worth having sex with so she was still looking for the right person. She cringed inwardly as she thought of Simon's advances in room 411 just days ago and tried to block the notion that she nearly had lost her virginity to him, albeit unwillingly. She wasn't going to lower her standards for anyone, no matter how adorable they looked or how much they begged. Nobody had fit the bill as "The One To Give It Up To", at least, not until she met Scott.

When she was with him, he made her feel safe and wanted. He was fun to talk to and wasn't pressuring her to do anything with him except talk and kiss. Scott cared about her feelings, as demonstrated by effort to find her on the night he beat up Alan Garvin. He was a young man who had everything she was looking for: tenderness, sweetness and an ass that made her insides tremble.

Initially put off by his age, she was tired of wrestling with the issue. He had more maturity at eighteen than thirty-year-olds she'd dated. A few years wasn't that big of a difference, anyway, she reasoned. She wouldn't force him to do anything—if he wanted her, she would give herself to him, body and soul. If not, no harm done.

"Have I done something wrong," Scott asked, interrupting her thoughts. "You're looking at me funny and shaking your head."

Tessa blinked, snapped out of her thoughts by Scott's voice. "No, you haven't," she answered. "I was just thinking," she said, kissing his cheek, "of how sweet you are. I'm lucky to have met somebody as special as you are. I don't deserve to be with someone as good as you."

"Uh..." Scott said, quite unsure as to what he should say. "I've never made love before, but I want you to make love to me."

"What?!"

"Make love to me."

Scott could hardly believe his luck. Therese wanted to make love with him! It was, literally, a dream come true! As excited as he was at the prospect, however, the whole concept was a lot for him to fathom. After all, she was going to be his first! He had virtually no experience in the sex department, save the few Playboy magazines he had stolen from Eric's bedroom closet and thought that might not be enough.

He wondered what would happen when she saw him naked. Would she start laughing? _What if I'm not big enough_? He thought wildly. He had heard lots of guys talking about size and never gave it much thought but now the idea that he may be inadequate was enough to send his stomach rolling with fear. "You want to-to have sex? With me?"

"I don't see anyone else in this glen," Tessa said with a nervous little laugh. "Does that seem so hard to believe?"

"Well, I don't know...we've only known each other for a few days and I really like you but—"

Tessa was mortified. She hadn't been expecting this reaction! "I'm sorry. God, I feel stupid! I shouldn't have said anything! Just pretend that I—oh, shit!" She bit her lip and looked away from him, wishing that she could find a hole to crawl into.

"You don't think I want to?" Scott gulped. "But—what you just said, it made me think that you didn't."

The two sat on the bank for what seemed like ages, occasionally slapping away at pesky mosquitoes. Each stared at the brook, the trees, anything but each other. Finally, Tessa spoke. "I care for you, you know, and we don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

Scott's eyes widened. "I want this more than anything! I uh, am just a little..."

"Unsure of what to do?" Tessa finished "Same here," she admitted.

"Thanks," Scott said, a relieved expression on his face. So he wouldn't be the only clueless one, then. "I've never done this before. I guess that's one of the reasons I want to do this with you. I know that I'm not going to be compared to someone else—"

All of a sudden, Tessa wondered if Scott actually was a virgin. Had he already been with someone else? Tessa's heart thumped painfully. Maybe he's already had sex several times. Maybe he thinks I'm some sort of weirdo because I haven't! "Um, I haven't ever done this either."

Scott enveloped his arms around her and kissed her softly. His touch sent shivers through her body and she melted into his kiss. He exploring her lips with his, then parting them and daringly slipping his tongue past them. Tessa stiffened for a fraction of a second then clutched him in her arms. He opened his mouth a little wider to deepen the kiss. His hands found her soft hair and he stroked it, mentally admiring its softness and scent. Pulling away from her a little, he whispered," I love the way your hair smells. Like strawberries."

"I'm glad you like it."

An awkward silence followed Tessa's statement, as both were unsure as to who should make the first move. Scott gave Tessa a quick peck on the cheek; Tessa pulled Scott's sweater over his head.

"You could unzip my dress!"

"Should we be lying down for this?"

Each spoke at the same time. They giggled, the tension broken. "This is supposed to be fun," Tessa said, "not humiliating. I took off your sweater, Scott, so why don't you help me with the zipper on my dress?"

"Okay," Scott agreed, his voice an octave higher than normal He placed one hand on Tessa's shoulder and reached for the zipper with the other. His nervousness radiated off him in waves; he fumbled with the zipper for a second before he slowly unzipped Tessa's dress and peeled it from shoulders. His fingers trembled as he came into contact with the smoothness of her skin and the silk of the camisole she wore. _God, she's beautiful_ , he thought. The dress slipped from her shoulders, leaving her completely bare from the waist up. She turned around to face him and he couldn't help but stare.

"I hope that you're not disappointed in what you see."

"How could you possibly think that I would be disappointed?" Scott asked, stunned at the idea.

Tessa gave a small shake of her head and sighed. "Do you want to touch them?"

"Huh?!"

"Well, you haven't looked me in the eye since you unzipped my dress," she said pointedly. "Go ahead, it's all right."

"But I...I've...if I do that, then won't..." Scott babbled.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, here!" Tessa grasped one of Scott's hands in her own and placed it against her left breast. He caressed the treasure in the palm of his hand. He'd never felt skin as soft. Experimentally he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her nipple and heard her moan at the touch. He did it a second time; it had stiffened underneath his fingers. He placed his other hand on her other breast and repeated the action; he could hear her breathing becoming quicker, shallow and felt himself growing hard. Daringly, he cupped one breast in his hand and lowered his head, flicking at the sensitive skin with his tongue.

"Boobs are interesting because men don't have them," Scott mumbled as he traced a circle around the nipple with his tongue.

"Probably for the b-better," Tessa whispered back with difficulty. "Men wouldn't ever get anything done; they'd sit in a corner playing with themselves all day long!"

Scott laughed. "You're probably right," he conceded. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. Together, they rolled onto the grass, two warm bodies that couldn't seem to get near enough to one another. He could feel himself against her, hard and ready. It was a sensation that had made him uncomfortable mere days ago but now filled him with excitement.

He was surprised when Tessa suddenly went rigid, a panicked expression on her face. "What is the matter, Therese?"

Tessa's face was scarlet. "I'm sort of embarrassed to admit it, but I'm afraid it's going to hurt. I know that sounds like the biggest cliché in the world, but I really am afraid. Sorry."

Scott didn't know what to say. Surely by now she'd have figured out that men and women had been doing what they were attempting to do for years and years with no problems! _Be careful_ , he thought, _or this is going to be a one-time thing. God knows you don't want that_!

"Uh, probably it will, at least at first," he said. "Not being a girl I wouldn't know just how much but I'll be as careful as I can."

"I know that, Scott. I-I'm just... I don't know." She inclined her head to the area between Scott's legs and managed to blush even more. "I mean, have you taken a look down there lately?" she asked. "You're huge and I'm, er, I'm well, not."

Scott's insides to turn to jelly. _She thinks I'm huge_ , he thought with unmitigated delight. Gathering all the strength he could muster, he managed to squeak, "We can stop now if you want to." "Oh, no, I don't want to do that!" Tessa cried to Scott's delight. "I want to do this. I want to prove my love to you. Tonight. Now."

She ran her lips over his as if trying to taste him. Scott obliged her, parting his lips and touching his tongue to hers. "Are you absolutely sure," he murmured between kisses," Because I don't think I'm going to be able to control myself after this, I really don't!"

"Uh-huh," whispered Tessa, never stopping her mouth from its movement over Scott's lips and cheeks. "It's going to be fine...everything's going to be okay." She broke away from Scott's kiss and met his hazel eyes with her blue ones. "Whenever you're ready."

For a moment, Scott could do nothing but gaze her in astonishment. Therese's body lay before him, sweet smelling and slightly pink, and a smile playing about her sensuous mouth. It was in that instant that Scott realized that there was a definite difference between merely having sex and making love. He wanted with all his heart to make the moment enjoyable both for himself and for her. As he recalled all of the sordid stories of sex he had heard from the guys he shared a dorm room with he shuddered to himself. Most of his male counterparts were not into sex for the purpose of expressing their undying love for another human being. Scott didn't want to be like that. Not this night or ever. He had been lucky enough to be with a woman of what he thought to be ethereal beauty with the brains to match, and he wasn't going to screw it up if he could help it. He was going to try to make their special night something that Therese would always have fond memories of, even if it meant going slow with her, and gentle.

Scott's lips trailed tender tiny kisses down Therese's chest and stomach, his ears delighting in the soft sighs emanating from Tessa's mouth. "You're doing fine. You feel so good," she encouraged him. She gasped and she touched Scott's hair.

"Therese," he said nervously, "are you ready for me now?"

Tessa's heart skipped a beat. _He wants to give me one last chance to change my mind. Such a sweetheart..._ She opened her eyes and nodded, drawing Scott to her.

Scott positioned himself over her. He stroked her cheek with a free hand, and put his other arm around her neck. He tried to push forward, but missed his mark.

He flushed with embarrassment as Tessa stiffened underneath him. "I haven't done anything yet!"

Tessa nodded her head, her eyes squeezed closed. "I know that," she said through clenched teeth. She forced herself to relax. He pushed again and underneath him, Tessa hissed in pain. Shushing her and kissing away her tears, Scott whispered, "I love you, but I'm hurting you."

"It's...okay. It's supposed to hurt a little, so I've read." She opened her

eyes. "Please, just do it. Be quick."

Scott nodded in agreement. He had never experienced anything like this in his life. This was the most perfect feeling he had ever had. Bracing himself, he allowed himself to slide all the way into her, as far as he could go. He threw his head back, eyes jammed shut and breathing hard. He wondered how anything could feel as incredible. Opening his eyes slowly, he gazed down at Tessa, whose was smiling; though her face was shining with tears.

"Well, that wasn't as bad as I'd have guessed," she commented, grimacing slightly.

Scott smiled, sweat beading up on his forehead. Wiping it away with one hand, he exclaimed, "Therese, I love you!"

"And I you," Tessa assured him, pulling him down to her and kissing him deeply. Her voice caught in her throat. "I love you so much."

Tessa shifted underneath him; while her initial pain was dissipating, the act was still far from comfortable; she felt as if she was being torn in half. Scott's movements were jerky at best; being as inexperienced as she was, he had yet to find a comfortable rhythm.

"Take it easy," she said. "Slow down a little. Let me try to... I don't know... move with you?"

"Oh," Scott breathed. He took a deep breath and slowed himself down; Tessa did her best to accommodate him despite her discomfort. As they attuned themselves with the other, the quickness of their movements increased, as did their mutual pleasure. Their eyes locked as their bodies moved faster and faster to a rhythm as primal as mankind itself. Mosquitoes bit, the ground was cold and hard, Tessa could feel an acorn digging into the small of her back; Scott's knees began to sting from the bite of the pine needles on the ground but neither seemed to care.

All too soon, Scott could feel an orgasm building within himself. He took in great gulps of air, pushing into her as hard as he could. "God, Therese, you are the sexiest thing. . ." His eyes widened. "Oh, hell no, I'm sorry...gonna.. .

"Wait—make sure you pull out—"

"What?" Before he could pull himself completely out, he came. Panting, he collapsed on top of Tessa, his legs shaking, his body spent.

Tessa wrapped her arms around his neck and soothed him with nonsense words, stroking his hair and kissing his face softly and each lay still as they caught their collective breaths. For several minutes the two lovers lay together intertwined underneath the innocent sky. The water in the brook splashing over the rocks and the swish of the leaves of the bushes around them were the only noises they could hear.

"Thank you," he whispered to her.

Tessa blushed. "You were incredible."

"You weren't so bad yourself," Scott said, equally red-faced. "But I hurt you."

Tessa smiled at him. "You would never hurt me intentionally." She snuggled up next to Scott, shivering slightly as he pulled his jacket over them both like an impromptu bedspread. Stroking his chest with her fingertips, she fingered the medallion around his neck. She smirked. "Saint Jude, huh?" Scott laughed as he stared down at the emblem. "Ethan and Mark gave that to me earlier this afternoon. They said I was a lost cause and that I should wear it for luck tonight!"

Tessa kissed the medallion. "Thank them for me," she whispered.

They held each other underneath the twinkling stars, silent for many moments as they listening to each other's breathing. As she lay in Scott's arms Tessa tried to wrap her mind around why someone would want to kill him. Correction, something, she thought. Valdez was as inhuman as a person could be. And, she remembered she would have to deliver Scott to Valdez at any moment.

Tessa's stomach clenched. She couldn't betray him, not after what she had shared with Scott. She had to tell him, consequences be damned! She looked to the sky. The moon had risen nearly as high as it would be. It seemed as if it were an eye, staring at her with contempt. In everyone's life, her parents had told her once, there comes a time when they have to show the world who they really were and what they stood for. Stand for something, or you will fall for anything. Tessa understood the words now. Tonight it was her turn to make a decision: would she support the Loyalists and live with the consequences, or would she do Valdez's bidding, paving the way for his rise to dictatorship?

She knew what she wanted to do and she knew that whatever happened, her parents would be proud. If the world were to be delivered into the hands of a demonic psychopath, it wouldn't be due to her actions! Her choice made, she felt relief for the first time in days.

"Scott," she said, propping herself onto an elbow, "There's something you need to know."

"What is that?" He smiled at her and stretched sleepily. "Don't tell me you want to spend the night here? There's been a tree root digging into the small of my back for the better part of twenty minutes, and I think the ground would get all dewy after awhile, so—"

Tessa placed her index finger to his lips. "No, listen. Look at me. This is very serious."

Scott's facial expression crumpled into a frown. "What's wrong? You're not leaving me are you?"

Tessa shook her head vehemently. "No, Scott, a thousand times no! But you have to listen to me. I've been keeping something from you—something that you have to know—the sooner the better. My name isn't Therese. It's Tessa. Tessa Laughlin." She waited, fearful of her lover's response.

Scott's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who? You're not Therese? I'm not following. . ."

The sound of rustling in the bushes just beyond where the couple was sitting caused them to look up in alarm. Tessa threw on her wrinkled camisole and began to search the grass, looking for her watch. She couldn't remember it falling off her wrist while she and Scott had made love. It couldn't be time yet!

She had to think fast. Scott couldn't go over to those bushes. He had to know what would be waiting him! He was already on his feet, dressed in his boxers and pants. Carrying his shoes in one hand, he stepped closer to the bushes.

"Who's there?"

"Scott, please come back to me! I need you," Tessa pleaded with him. "I have to be. . .you and I...you have to understand that I didn't want to hurt you."

Scott didn't acknowledge her. Instead, he reached for the branch closest to where he thought he had heard the noise. He pulled it back and gasped at who was on the other side.

~14~

Revelations

"Mallory! What are you doing here? And," Scott paused and glanced down at his half-dressed self with an embarrassed flush of his cheeks, "why is Dr. Butler with you?" He looked over to the trigonometry teacher, who regarded him with revulsion.

"We came to warn you! You need to get away from Therese—she's not who she says she is!" Mallory cried. "You and she—is she here? You two haven't done anything...."

She looked over Scott's shoulder and saw Tessa standing there. Tessa bowed her head slightly and crossed her arms about herself as if trying to keep warm. She knew her hair was askew and that her dress wasn't fully zipped. She could also still feel the warmth of Scott's hands on her body. It was so obvious what had happened. Scott was sweaty-looking and appeared about ready to drop with exhaustion.

Tessa winced as Mallory groaned, putting two and two together. "It's too late. We got here too late, and oh, Scott why?" Mallory ran to her friend and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing. Scott held her and patted her back. "You're never going to believe what we found out! Oh, Scott!"

"Miss Decatur, do shut up. Frankly I've heard enough 'Oh Scotts' to haunt my dreams for the remainder of my days." Dr. Butler shuddered, as if trying to clear the sounds and mental images from his brain.

Tessa buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. How long had Mallory and Dr. Butler been behind those bushes? How had they known where to look? How had they figured out her identity? The idea that she would be thwarted after being so close to being reunited with her parents made her sick to her stomach.

Tessa didn't have a whole lot of time to muddle this thought over in her mind because Mallory suddenly stopped hugging Scott and charged at her instead. She wasn't prepared for Mallory's attack. The air flew from her lungs as she hit the ground; Mallory sprawled on top of her. Mallory began throwing punches to Tessa's head, stomach and everywhere else she found an exposed area.

Tessa was not a weakling, however, and after the initial shock, she began to give as good as she got, even fighting dirty and yanking on Mallory's hair. They rolled around the ground together, each punching, biting and pulling hair. Despite the serious implications of the situation, both Scott and Dr. Butler watched, openmouthed, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of an impromptu catfight.

Mallory delivered a well-placed kick to Tessa's stomach and the fight was over. Tessa rolled to her side, wheezing as Mallory straddled her, pinned her flat on her back and wrapped both hands around Tessa's throat. Squeezing rather tightly, Mallory said, "Talk."

Tessa tried to push the girl on top of her off to no avail. "Scott," she croaked, "you've got to help me!" She struggled to look in his direction. Scott strode toward the pair.

"Mallory, what in God's name are you doing? Therese hasn't done anything wrong!"

Mallory held up a hand to stop him, her other hand firm on Tessa's windpipe. "You have to listen! She's working for Raphael Valdez—go ahead, ask her, if you don't believe me," Mallory pleaded. "Dr. Butler has been wary of her since day one, and his suspicions were proven not two hours ago!"

With narrowed eyes, she glared at Tessa and snarled, "Isn't that true, you miserable bitch? You've been serving Valdez the whole time you've been at Briarwood!"

Scott's frustration at the situation mounted. "Mallory, for God's sake, LEAVE THERESE ALONE!"

When Mallory made no move to leave, Scott bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, twisting and screaming. "I've been your best friend for years! Do you think that, after all this time, I'm now trying to trick you? Don't tell me you won't believe me." Mallory placed a kick to Scott's shin, causing him to curse. "Ask her! JUST. ASK. HER."

Scott dropped Mallory unceremoniously to the ground. He became aware of the stillness in the glen. Mallory regarded Therese with venomous loathing. Dr. Butler was surveying the situation with an air of disgust and wondered if he'd be entitled to hazard pay after this night. Therese was still lying on her back trying catching her breath.

Scott's hazel eyes locked with her Prussian blues and held her gaze for a long moment. "Tell her she's made a mistake," Scott said with measured calm. "Tell Mallory that her accusation isn't true, that you're not Valdez's servant." He started to walk over to her side, his eyes full of love for her.

"Scott," Tessa said, sitting up, "I can explain all of this! You have to listen to me. This wasn't the way I wanted to try to explain myself, but—"

"What are you saying?" Scott froze where he was, mid-step; he began to feel quite sick. "Are- _are_ you a servant of Valdez?"

Tessa bowed her head and began to cry. Realization of the truth hit Scott like a blow. His head began to spin as all of the pieces of the puzzle that was Therese began to fit into place:

Mallory had been right. She had been right about everything from the start, but Scott had ignored her, even treated her badly for suggesting that Therese may not be everything she appeared. Mallory, friend that she was, had continued to try to tell him, despite his behavior.

"She is. She is, isn't she? She's a servant of him...of Valdez," Scott spoke softly to nobody in particular. He looked away from the group and focused instead on the starry sky. He wrapped his arms around himself.

"Her real name is Tessa Laughlin," Mallory said gently. "Do you remember the name? It was in the newspapers all week. People thought that the family had been kidnapped. In reality, Tessa works for the Visionary Coalition!"

"But I don't—I was forced!" Tessa cried.

From across the glen, Butler said, almost kindly, "Men of more maturity than you have been fooled by the wiles of a woman, Madison."

Tessa watched with horror as Scott seemed to struggle for air—all color drained from his face as he clutched at his chest and collapsed to the grass, burying his head in his hands. _I've just broken his heart_ , she thought.

"I can't breathe," he croaked, bowing his head. Scott lifted his head, his face tear-streaked. "I thought you l-loved me. Or was it all a lie? Were you lying when you said you had never made love before? Was I just a joke to you?" he asked. Tessa stumbled across the glen toward her young lover. Falling to her knees before him, she spoke fervently, "No, I wasn't lying to you about that. You were my first and the only one I'll ever want! You need to understand why I had to do this. This wasn't my fault! I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but don't send me to prison! Valdez told me that he was going to kill my parents if I didn't do what he asked! You've got to believe me!" Tessa's voice quavered. She looked into her lover's face, searching in vain for a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. She gulped as he pulled away from her, a look of total repugnance on his face. "Leave me alone." His voice was emotionless, flat. "I don't believe a word you say anymore." He turned away from her, his hands at his sides. "Don't say that," Tessa beseeched, frustrated. "I don't know what to do, here. I don't know how to make this better!" She threw up her hands. "What can I say to convince you that I'm telling the truth? I didn't do any of this willingly—except making love to you!" Dr. Butler frowned. "I thought you might try to deny involvement, as most Visionists and other servants of Valdez are usually inclined to do when they're caught. Their lies never fail to amuse me, so do go ahead and tell me yours," he said coldly. "He kidnapped me! He wanted me to seduce Scott. Valdez wanted me to...I was forced—"

"Then it is all true," Scott said quietly, turning around. "You know, until you said it aloud, I thought there might be a chance, a possibility that Mallory maybe had it wrong. But she was right: I just proved my undying love and lost my virginity to a servant of Valdez."

Scott wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, devastated. Tessa tried to reach for his hand; he batted it away. "Get away from me. I never want to look at your face again!"

Dr. Butler cleared his throat. "Valdez and the Visionists will be here any minute. We need to get out of here. See if you can escort our little Casanova here back to Briarwood, Miss Decatur. I'll call the Guard and have Therese Robichaud arrested." He reached into his coat for his cell phone. He dialed, paused and swore. "No reception," he muttered.

"Here's my wand, Miss Decatur. Should she try to escape, the incantation is ' _religare'_."

Mallory nodded and took the wand. As Dr. Butler left the clearing in hopes of getting a clear connection with someone from the Guard, she walked over to where Scott sat. She put her arms around him to try to comfort him as he cried. Tessa couldn't make out what Mallory was saying to Scott, but she wished it were she who was comforting him. Scott had to know that she loved him. If she was able to accomplish nothing else this terrible night, she had to accomplish that.

"I love you, Scott. I'll always love you," Tessa called to him, her voiced strained due to the massive lump in her throat. "I'm so very, very sorry."

"'Sorry' isn't going to begin to describe what's about to happen to you," Mallory remarked, patting Scott's shoulder.

"Scott, listen!" Tessa pleaded.

Scott didn't appear to hear her; instead clutching Mallory tighter, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I made love to her," he stated emphatically, as if it were of the utmost importance that she understood this. "She and I just made love right here in this glen no more than half an hour ago, and now she's a servant of Valdez and oh my God, what have I done?"

Even as Mallory tried to quiet and comfort him as best as she could, Scott continued to sob. His romantic vision collapsed around him, crushing his hopes, his dreams until he felt sick. Leaning heavily on Mallory, he stood and let the reality settle over him. Suddenly, he lurched out of her grip and stumbled towards the brook, trying to get far enough away before it all came out. He fell to his knees and vomited, unable to stop until there was nothing left, and still he continued to punish himself.

Mallory turned away from him, walked over to where Butler held a wretched-looking Tessa and slapped her, hard, across the face. Tessa, her cheek red from the blow, said nothing.

"Traitors to the Loyalists are usually put to death, but I hope that you're spared," Mallory said, her face mere inches from Tessa's own, her brown eyes dark with fury. "I hope they force you live with what you've done for years. And then, when you finally die, hopefully in unbelievable pain, I hope the last thing you see before you die is his face," she said, pointing to Scott. With those words, she walked back over to where he lay motionless beside the brook.

Tessa looked up as, without warning, a gust of chilling wind blew through the clearing, causing tree branches to sway and bushes to rustle. Her despair at hurting Scott was replaced with a knot of dread. She knew what was coming.

"Oh God, it's them! Get out of here," she screamed. "Run!"

~15~

Valdez Pays a Visit

Everything seemed to happen at once. Mallory pointed Dr. Butler's wand at Tessa, but froze on the incantation. Panic etched into her face, she stood, unmoving, even when Tessa snatched the wand out of her hands and cast a cloaking charm upon her.

"Get out of here, Mallory! Find Dr. Butler and warn him!" she whispered. She pushed the air in front of her and connected with Mallory's shoulder. "Hurry! You can't be here when they—"

From the trees surrounding them figures appeared—five, ten, fifteen people. They formed a tight circle around the group in the glen. Each had a devilish grin on his face. Tessa prayed that Mallory had made it out of the clearing unnoticed.

Those who formed the circle bowed low as a final figure stepped into the glen. Tall and thin, dressed entirely in black, his face bearing hideous scars, it was the man that neither Scott nor Tessa would never forget, even if they lived to be a thousand years old. Raphael Valdez, head of the Visionary Coalition.

Valdez looked angry. He motioned for his followers to search the woods. "There were others. I can smell them. Leave no shrub unturned!" He grabbed Tessa by the arm. "Who were they? Where did they go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tessa lied. She didn't dare look in the direction that Mallory and Dr. Butler had gone, for fear she would reveal them somehow. On one hand, she prayed that they would find the Scarlet Guard. On the other hand, she knew that when they did, she would be arrested for sure.

Valdez squeezed her arm as hard as he could, causing Tessa's knees to buckle from the pain. "I—it's only us here, me and Scott, just like you wanted," Tessa insisted.

"If I find out that you're lying..." Valdez trailed off as he pushed her away. He saw Scott sitting on the bank of the brook and a sinister smile spread across his face. Valdez stepped in front of Scott and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Ah, so nice to see you again Mr. Madison. It's been too long," he rasped. "I see you've made an acquaintance of one of my most revered servants," he added, waving towards Tessa with one bony hand. "But now that she's completed her work she's no longer of use to me."

Tessa's eyes snapped back on Valdez. "You asshole!"

Valdez ignored her. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Scott? Did you know that she seduced you to this glen at my command? I think you should know, however, who Therese Robichaud really is before I do what I've wanted to do to you for years. It's only fair, after all."

He cast a sidelong glance in Tessa's direction. "Don't you think that would be fitting, _Therese_?" he asked, chuckling.

Tessa said nothing.

"Ah, silence! An excellent quality in a woman," laughed Valdez. "Let me introduce you to Tessa Laughlin, Scott." Valdez twirled his wand lazily between his long fingers. "How deliciously ironic it is that the only daughter of parents who both received the Loyalist's highest medals of honor chose to participate in my plan, and ruin their tireless efforts on the Loyalists' behalf."

"I didn't participate by choice!" Tessa hissed, balling her hands into fists. "I was forced! You had me over a barrel!" She stepped away from Scott and faced Valdez. Mustering every ounce of courage, she stood up as straight as she could, looked Valdez straight in the eye and spoke two words: "I renege."

Valdez's eyes blazed, his anger evident in his posture. "Do you now?" he remarked. "As Scott's already here before me, it seems a bit late to be backing out of our deal."

"Where are my parents?" cried Tessa desperately. "Show me my parents!"

"That's right! Where are my manners?" Valdez grinned. "I reward my faithful and you, Miss Laughlin have been as faithful as my most revered of servants, at least, until a few moments ago." He snapped his fingers and two more of his men stepped out from the shadows and into the circle, pushing ahead two dirty, disheveled people; they staggered slowly, hand in hand and confused, into the center of the clearing. Tessa cried out as she recognized her parents, Michael and Linda Laughlin.

They looked awful in their dusty dress clothes and soil-streaked faces. Their eyes were glazed and vacant-looking and Tessa could hear her father mumbling, trying to speak. _They've been drugged_ , Tessa thought. _That's why they're not fighting back._ She tried not to think of where they had spent their week. She wondered what they would think of her; would they approve of what she had just done?

"Mom! Dad! I'm so sorry for the mess I have caused! Please forgive me!" Tessa raced to them both and pulled her father into a bone-crushing hug. He returned her hug weakly; the simple movement of placing limbs around his daughter turtle-like and slow, as if moving his limbs through quicksand. Tessa wept as her father, her paragon of strength and dependability, fell to his knees before her.

"Where am I?" he asked, his speech slurred.

"Daddy, it's me! It's Tessa!" She dropped to her own knees and caressed his face with the palm of her hand. "What have they done to you? When Michael Laughlin couldn't give an answer, Tessa glanced up at her mother, whose matted blonde hair partially covered her face. "They've tortured you, haven't they?"

Linda Laughlin swayed on her feet but managed not to fall. "You have to help the Loyalists. They need you. Don't give in to Valdez—don't let years of our hard work go down the..." She trailed off and stared ahead, drool escaping the corner of her mouth.

Tessa told her to sit down and rest; Linda did as she was asked with no hesitation. "I'll die before I serve him, but you and dad—I can't just let him—he's going to kill you both!"

Linda wiped at her eyes with an unsteady hand. "Don't...don't think about us. Millions of people'll suffer if Valdez rises to power. Don't let Scott die—the Guard protects its own." She closed her eyes and didn't speak again until Tessa placed a hand on her shoulder to make certain that the woman hadn't fallen unconscious. When she spoke again, Linda Laughlin did so slowly, without opening her eyes. "I know that you love him," she said quietly.

"He's so young and I've hurt him," Tessa offered. "I've screwed everything up." "If you truly care for him, you have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart." With those words, Linda opened her eyes and forced them to focus on her daughter. "Now go and do what's right. Show the world where your loyalties lie."

"I love you both," Tessa said, a hard lump forming in her throat as she embraced her mother. She could smell the faint scent of perfume on the collar of her mother's gown: roses, her mother's favorite flower. "I'm not going to let you two down."

"If I had functioning tear ducts, I'd be crying right now at the sight of this touching family reunion," Valdez said, clasping his hands behind his back. "As it is, though, I don't."

Tessa leaped to her feet and faced Raphael Valdez with an almost inhuman fury. "You've hurt them," she screamed. "They're sick! What did you give to them?"

Valdez ignored her; instead, he turned his attention to Scott. "Here we are again, Mr. Madison. We face each other once more, but things are so much different this time. You've grown tall and handsome and I—well, let's say Iwon't be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon. I do hope that you no longer play with the Tonka truck that helped ruin my plans the last time we met."

He sidled over to Scott and gave him an appraising glance. Scott stood motionless, uncaring. "I see from your disheveled appearance that you weren't planning an encounter with me this evening. I trust I haven't come at an inconvenient time," he added. "I could come back later, of course, but it did take me so long to get here and I'm quite tired."

If Scott heard Valdez's taunting words, he didn't show it. He looked as if he didn't care about Valdez, Tessa, or anything else. He looked an inch from dying, as if the idea that Valdez might kill him didn't matter anymore.

"For years I wondered what your weakness might be, Mister Madison. I think we have found her," Valdez giggled, indicating the still-crying Tessa with one hand. "Tell me, Scott. Was the sex pleasant? Did she take you to heights you could never reach with your left hand alone?"

Tessa's face burned with embarrassment and white-hot anger. How dare he make that type of statement to Scott? No longer caring what happened, she advanced on Valdez with a loathing in her soul so deep it scared her. "Leave him alone, you monster, or you'll have me to deal with!"

Valdez turned, all jollity gone, his expression one of loathing. "Stay out of this, bitch!"

Valdez grinned at Scott. "I have an idea. I believe that I shall have some fun, Scott, before I kill you," he remarked.

Scott scowled. "Fuck off," he muttered.

Valdez stopped smiling. "Your arrogance is annoying." He beckoned towards a figure standing in the shadows. "Perhaps there is someone in our midst who can break you."

As the man stepped into the moonlight, Tessa gasped with terror, her legs suddenly weak, forcing her to her knees. Simon Spellman! She remembered what had happened the last time that she'd been with him.

Valdez's servant reached his master's side. "I'm at your d-disposal, as always, boss."

"Why, Tessa, from the sound of that disgusted gasp I'd say that you remember Mr. Spellman. He's delighted to see you again, by the way. He told me that you two had quite the 'interesting' evening in the Room 411 a couple of days ago. Simon's assured me that he's eager to finish the job he began."

Spellman blew Tessa a kiss. She closed her eyes and grimaced with disgust.

"Simon," Valdez spoke quietly, his voice sibilant, "are you ready to claim your reward?"

Simon lifted his eyes to his Master, unbelieving. "Now? Here?" he asked, a devilish smirk playing across his lips.

"Why not? Scott here's done an admirable job of breaking her in," Valdez said with a wink. "You put on an impressive performance of not caring, Scott, but your eyes betray you as I speak. Despite all she has done to you, and despite your stubborn willingness to try to hate her, you still love Tessa deep down."

"That's what you think," Scott mumbled.

"Foolish boy! We will see just how much you 'don't care.' To your reward, Spellman!"

Simon didn't need more coaxing. He sauntered indolently toward Tessa, a lascivious expression upon his face, his hands in his pockets. Panicked, she tried to stand, but her rubbery legs refused to support her and she found herself sitting on the forest floor. She planted her hands on the needle- covered ground and pushed away with the heels of her feet in an attempt to escape.

"Going somewhere? I don't think so, sweetheart!" Simon looked down at her, a half-smile playing about his lips.

"Get a-away from me, you bastard," Tessa said in a quavering voice. She forced herself to her feet, her eyes never straying from Simon's advance.

There was no place to escape; Visionists surrounded her on all sides, jeering and catcalling: "You've got your hands full with that vixen, Spellman!" "Save some for me when you're done!" "I'll hold her down for you, if you will for me!"

For every step Simon took forward, Tessa stepped away two. Trembling in fear, she caught her heel on a tree root. She stumbled backwards, frantically pinwheeling her arms in an attempt to remain on her feet. A Visionist caught her before she fell and roughly pushed her in Simon's direction.

Simon whistled tunelessly as he continued his casual stroll toward his victim. Unbuttoning his jacket, he shrugged it off and tossed it aside. He rolled up his sleeves. "You're b-beautiful when you're terrified," he purred. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he watched Tessa's wild attempts to find an escape through the tightening circle. "I remember enjoying that very much the last time we were together."

"I don't want you near me," Tessa retorted, her hands raised in front of her as if to ward off attack. Tears threatened to fall. "Get away from me, or I'll-I'll—"

"You'll what?" Simon asked with an infuriating nonchalance. He stopped in front of her, just out of arms' length and removed his hands from his pockets. "Are you g-going to try to kick me in the nuts again? That's so c- cliché, sweetheart."

Tessa paled and glanced at her parents. _He's going to rape me right here in front of them,_ Tessa thought _, and there isn't a thing I can do about it_. The Visionists continued to jeer and taunt her; Scott hadn't moved, and instead continued to stare at the ground. He wasn't going to try to save her. She was on her own. Say anything. Keep him talking. If he's busy talking, he won't attack.

Desperate to stall Simon's advance, Tessa opened her mouth and said the first thing that came to her head. "You're right," she agreed woodenly. "It was stupid to even try."

She felt her skin crawl as Simon sidled closer to her. Valdez's henchmen's raucous laughter filled Tessa's ears as Simon faced her.

"Right-O. Every man knows that a kick to the g-groin is the woman's first line of defense," he murmured into her ear. He reached forward and traced her jawline with his index finger. "It's in every movie one sees. How stupid do you think—"

"FIRE!" screamed Tessa, thrusting her right knee upward with all the strength she could muster.

Momentarily thrown by Tessa's unusual choice of words, Simon's eyes widened, but he quickly anticipated her move. Sidestepping her knee, he grabbed her leg, pulled hard and threw her off balance. Before she could throw out a hand to break her fall, Tessa hit the ground flat on her back, knocking the wind out of herself. She rolled onto her side and tried to catch her breath, but before she could get enough air to scream again, Simon kicked her in the kidneys.

Strangled gasps were all Tessa could manage while she listened to the howls of laughter and the steady pad of Simon's feet growing closer. She clutched at her ribs as she heard his tuneless whistling start again. The whistling changed to a cheerful march as he dug the toe of his boot under her and rolled her onto her back. The Visionists cheered, and some began to make suggestions of what he should do to her.

The shadows claimed his face as he knelt heavily next to her and he stopped whistling. Grunting with deranged pleasure, Simon straddled her. He clamped down on her neck with his lips and sucked hard; Tessa began to sob.

"That's right, honey, make some noise. Scream for me," Simon growled. "Come on, g-give me some more." He entwined his fingers into her hair and yanked. Tessa gasped, but refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

Tessa could feel his erection against her pelvis as he laughed. "Not enough, eh? Going to be stubborn and b-boring and not do anything? Going to just lie there and think of England? I can fix that readily enough."

As his fellow Coalition members cheered him on, he struggled with his reward. Tessa clawed at him as he grabbed one breast savagely in his hand. Irritated, he twisted her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, hard. She cried out in pain; he forced her into a hard kiss; she bit his lip and dug her fingernails into the soft skin at the base of his ear, tearing at his skin and leaving a bloody gash.

Simon swore with pain. He grabbed her by the throat and struck her across the face with the back of his free hand. She fell against the ground, stunned by the blow. "Fuck, you god-damned cunt, you p-pull a stunt like that again and I swear to God, I'll kill you right here," Simon growled, wiping his mouth. His lip was swollen and bruised where Tessa had managed to bite him.

Tessa screamed as loudly as she could and thrashed underneath him in a frantic attempt to wriggle free. Simon tore at her camisole, ripping one of the straps off and exposing her breasts. Tessa shrieked and punched at him wildly.

Maddeningly, Simon only laughed harder at her predicament. "That's right," he cried in a loud voice, "move about as much as you can! If you only knew how turned on I was right n-now...." He deflected a punch from Tessa, caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the forest floor. "Guess what? You're going to tire soon, and then what are you going to do?"

Tessa panted for breath. "Bite me."

Simon's brows raised and his eyes sparkled with twisted delight. "With p- pleasure, sweetheart." He moaned aloud as he ground himself against her. "Did you know that cats sometimes p-play their prey to death?" he asked in a voice that suggested casual conversation about the weather. "Rather macabre, yet fascinating to watch. The cat amuses itself by allowing the mouse a measure of a head s-start; it tricks the mouse into thinking it will emerge from its encounter, unscathed.

"But what the m-mouse doesn't realize is that the cat is toying with her. The mouse tries to escape, but the cat b-bats it b-back with one paw. She is allowed to distance herself further; the cat pounces. On and on the g-game goes until, finally, the mouse is spent and collapses before her tormenter."

Simon leaned forward, his grip upon Tessa unwavering. "Her heart explodes from fright and fatigue, and the cat enjoys its catch."

Tessa looked for Scott and saw him standing on the opposite end of the circle, his face expressionless. "You've got to help me, Scott! For the love of God, please," she cried in desperation as Simon's teeth clamped onto the sensitive skin of her neck and his grip on her wrists tightened.

Scott looked away from her, his expression still unreadable. The Visionists hadn't bothered to restrain him; still in shock, Scott had made no move to escape since Valdez and his group had descended upon the clearing

. "I told you that, once he learned who you really were he'd drop you like a st-stone," Simon remarked. "Did I call it or what?" His face loomed over hers, their lips almost touching. He grabbed both her wrists in one large hand and held tight; the other hand forced her head still. "Let's try that kiss again, huh?"

Tessa squirmed and whimpered against his mouth, trying to turn her head away, her eyes squeezed as tightly shut as she could manage. Simon's breath was hot upon her face as she struggled to catch her breath under his weight. With all the strength she could gather, she fought to free her hands so that she might push his face away from her. "I love it when you're feisty," Simon murmured appreciatively. "I don't know which I enjoy more: the stiffness of your nipples against my hand or that low noise you make in your throat when you want something really b-badly. If there's anything sexier, I don't know what it is!"

Tessa spat at him and wriggled frantically underneath him. She threw herself to one side as hard as she could and managed to free one of her legs from underneath her captor. She screeched and shouted in his face as she kicked him in the shin and knee. She heard him swear as she tried to crawl to safety. Simon snarled and lunged towards her, pulling at her torn dress in a desperate effort to pull her back to him. He threw himself upon her, trying to pin her to the ground with his weight, but Tessa's knee thrust forward and caught him on the inside of his thigh, causing him to roll off, his hands protecting his balls.

Panting heavily, Tessa crawled away, her hands and knees scraped raw and bleeding from the needles, acorns and pinecones that littered the ground. She tried to reach her parents, both of whom were trying to meet her halfway. She almost made it.

Almost.

With a savage yell, Simon gave up any pretense of nonchalance towards Tessa and leaped upon her with his full weight. Unable to catch a full breath, Tessa collapsed underneath him, her body wracked with pain. She could feel him on top of her, smothering her with his weight. She struggled against him, biting, twisting and kicking. Wildly she wondered if he had an extra set of hands; each way she managed to turn, he was there, probing, tearing at her, scratching at her skin. She managed to flip herself onto her stomach; he pressed the heel of one hand against the back of her head and shoved her face into the damp, black earth, forcing her to inhale the soil. She mewled desperately as it filled her nostrils, her mouth to the point where she knew she would choke upon it if she didn't turn her head. She fought to breathe and Simon, sensing her dilemma, laughed cruelly, tauntingly. She heard the light chink of metal against metal as he unbuckled his belt with his free hand, then the sound of a zipper being unzipped. Her tears mixed with the dew upon the ground. For a few seconds, Tessa raked at the ground with her fingertips and her whimpers grew more intense as the burning in her chest increased; she knew it wouldn't be long before she blacked out from lack of air.

"The foreplay's b-been fun, Tessa. I could honestly hammer nails with my dick right now, so how's about you and I getting down to b-business? Are you going to lie nice and still for me? Be a good girl?"

Tessa shook her head with all the vehemence she could muster. Immediately, she felt his fingers twist roughly into her hair as he pushed her face deeper into the dirt. She could taste blood; she gagged on her own saliva and couldn't help but swallow, the taste of the soil causing her bile to rise. "You're going to p-pass out," Simon intoned close to her ear, "and I'm going to fuck you anyway. It'd be so much more enjoyable for b-both of us if you were conscious, but I'm not that p-picky."

Tessa's fingers curled shakily around dead leaves and needles. She thought of her parents, forced to watch her horrific ordeal, too drugged to be of any help to her, yet lucid enough to be cognizant of what was going on. She wouldn't be able to save them and she was about to die, too.

Without saving Scott.

"Maybe I'll have you more than once." Simon placed his hands on either side of her skull, crushing it like a vice. I can't leave Scott alone to face the wrath of a madman. "Nobody's going to save you. When I'm through with you, you'll wish you were dead."

_I'm not going to die with my legs spread apart on a forest floor_. Tessa groaned.

"Do you want up?" Simon asked in a smug voice. Tessa nodded as best she could and Simon let go of her head. Immediately she turned her head to the left, spat a mouthful of soil, coughed and gasped, the oxygen like a drug. Her vision cleared as she gulped greedily at the air. Her face flushed crimson as she fought to regain her strength. She could feel Simon climb off her long enough to flip her onto her back; bereft of energy, Tessa acquiesced with little struggle.

"That's b-better." Simon forced her legs apart and roughly shoved up her dress, snickering when Tessa lifted her arms weakly and tried to bat his hands away. She wept as his cold fingers stroked the inside of her thighs and steeled herself in anticipation of the inevitable. "I'm going to screw you so hard you're not going to know which end is which and don't you dare come until I give you permission," Simon said in a husky voice.

"Please don't," Tessa whispered. "Please, my parents." She looked into Simon's eyes, hoping to see a modicum of mercy within them. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't force me to do this here, in front of them. Please, just show them that small compassion!"

She watched as Simon looked over at her parents, both of whom were trying unsuccessfully to move towards her. Simon stared hard at her father before giving a bark of harsh laughter. "You obviously have me mistaken for someone who gives a shit."

Tessa sighed in futility. She looked to Scott, who met her gaze with tears in his eyes. "I love you," she mouthed, a solitary tear tricking down her cheek.

Scott looked at the ground. Tessa stared at him, trying to preserve in her tortured mind the last time she had seen him smile. _Please, help me_ , she pleaded silently. Scott, if anything, turned his head further away _. I'll bet you think this is exactly what I deserve. And it probably is, you know? What goes around comes around_ , Tessa thought.

Valdez, who had watched the scene with a measure of amusement, had grown impatient. "Honestly, Simon! Anyone else would have been finished by now! I present the girl to you, and yet you're so stupid that you still manage to completely mess things up?" he asked lazily.

"Well, it isn't as if she has b-been willing!"

"One more thing in her favor, I daresay," Valdez said with a trace of humor. "It is you, after all."

A tiny flicker of shame passed over Simon's eyes and Tessa was astonished to hear a small sigh escape his lips. "We'll see who's stupid," he whispered.

Simon's grip on her tightened and he turned his attention to her once more, his eyes filled with animalistic lust. Tessa wondered if the act would be quick and how badly it would hurt. She could feel Simon's fingers slipping past the waistband of her underwear and tried to scissor her legs together in a last-ditch effort to protect herself. Simon's fingernails dug into her skin as he forced her shaking legs apart again. She didn't want to see Simon, didn't want to watch what he was about to do, but she didn't know where else to look. At first, she attempted to disassociate herself with what was happening by staring at the moon high in the sky. Because the moon was full, it was difficult to see the stars.

She could see her mother and father, each of whom had tears running down their faces. Her father tried to crawl forward; Tessa cringed as a Visionist stepped into the circle and struck him on the head with the barrel of his gun, knocking him unconscious. Tessa's mother whimpered. _At least dad won't see this_ , Tessa thought as she heard the sound of the last barrier between herself and Simon tear. _Every cloud has a silver lining, doesn't it_?

She glanced at Scott. He had been so sweet and gentle with her. During their lovemaking, he had fumbled a bit, but he had employed a degree of compassion and tenderness and a desire to be careful and loving with her. Her attempt to concentrate on the young man she loved failed completely as she heard Simon spit into his hand, then felt the tip of his finger enter her. She recoiled at the touch, her fingers and toes curling with revulsion, her lip bleeding as she bit it.

"No!"

The sound from across the clearing caused Tessa to cry out and Simon to look up. Scott barreled towards them both, his face feral with anger, his fists raised before him. He threw his entire weight at Simon, knocking him off- balance and off Tessa.

She shook, weak as a kitten as she struggled to sit up. She pulled her torn camisole around her and coughed as Scott and Simon wrestled, their movements causing dust and dirt to rise. Scott lambasted Simon, his hands around the Visionist's neck, striking his head against the earth again and again. Simon elbowed the younger boy in the shoulder; Scott retaliated with another blow to the head. He grabbed Simon's flailing hand and bit it hard enough to draw blood, causing Valdez's assistant to grasp a handful of dirt and throw it into Scott's eyes.

Even though Scott was temporarily forced to fight blind, it took three other Coalition members to pull him away from Simon. Spellman got to his feet, his hands to his mouth, which coursed freely with blood. Scott fought against the Visionists who held him, his face sweaty and streaked with dust.

Valdez regarded Tessa and Scott with an expression of such rancor that it caused even the most loyal of his group to cringe. "I tire of you, Scott. We're going to end this now!" He instructed some of his servants to bind Scott and Tessa together.

"Twelve years ago I was selfish," Valdez admitted. "My faithful Visionary Coalition wanted to finish you and your family off themselves but I insisted that I come along. I wanted to destroy your family myself, and it cost me. You got lucky as a kid. This time, however, you will not be."

Tessa could feel Scott heave a sigh next to her. "Thank you for saving me from Simon," she whispered as she labored against the rough ropes. "I'm sorry for everything here. I wanted to save my mom and my dad. I didn't get the results I wanted."

"Go to hell," Scott hissed. "I only saved you so that my soul would be free of guilt when I meet the Maker!"

"A good little boy to the end, huh Scott?" asked Valdez, laughing as both Scott and Tessa struggled against the ropes. "It's too late, Tessa. Your boyfriend's mine and there's nothing that you can do about it. Scott will die tonight, as will your parents, as will you." Valdez gave a high-pitched laugh, an inhuman laugh.

"What?" Tessa cried, shaking her head. "No—no, you can't! We had a deal!"

"And here, Miss Laughlin is where I renege." With those words, Valdez nodded to his followers. "Do it. _Memento Mori_."

Instinctively, Tessa reached for Scott's hand and squeezed it. _Memento Mori_ was a horrible death curse. Its literal translation being "Remember, you will die," victims of the curse perished slowly and in a most undignified way. Short and long-term memories would slide away first, followed by the brain's failure to "remember" to do the involuntary bodily functions required to live, such as blinking, swallowing and finally breathing. She prayed that she had enchanted the crystal correctly.

As Raphael Valdez's servants withdrew their wands from their holsters and prepared to cast their hexes, the jewel around Tessa's neck began to glow with a brilliant blue light. The light twisted and turned, forming a protective barrier that enveloped her and Scott. An ethereal, unisex voice began to chant:

" _The caster of my protecting spell wishes only hope and love and well. The desire of her heart, 'tis true is pure May the Good be protected evermore! Tensions strong you take from me, I bring good luck effectively, To those who try to kill, disperse! For the unforgivable will now reverse!"_

The Coalition members aimed their weapons at both Tessa and Scott, and bolts of silver light flashed from their wand tips. To their dismay, the bolts from their _Memento Mori_ hexes ricocheted off the band of blue and bounced back toward them, killing several in the process.

Valdez cried out in frustration as the majority of his minions collapsed to their deaths. The only ones who had survived the attack were himself and Simon, because they hadn't fired a weapon, and one cowardly Visionist, who had dived behind his fellow member as the crystal's spell reversed the hex's courses.

Tessa's eyes widened; she had managed to make the Dumortierite spell work! She sagged against Scott with relief.

"It's going to be okay. He can't hurt us," she whispered.

Scott didn't answer; he focused instead on how to free himself from the ropes that bound him to her. An eerie silence pervaded over the clearing as Valdez walked from Visionist to Visionist looking for survivors of Tessa's Dumortierite attack. Simon stood on the edge of the clearing, ghostly white with shock at what he'd just seen, his feet rooted to the ground. Tessa watched as Valdez prodded one fat Visionist with the toe of his boot. For a long, awkward moment Valdez stared at the dead man before turning to her, his already terrifying face twisted with anger.

"Crystal magic," Valdez spat as he sauntered toward the center of the clearing, "how clever. I can't even try to touch Scott now because, should I attempt, it'll backfire. You may have saved your lover," said Valdez, his words bitter, "but I'll now see to it personally that you never profit from it!"

To Tessa's mounting horror, Valdez withdrew a gun from a holster inside his jacket, removed the safety and stroked the barrel.

"Scott's innocent! He..."

"...Ruined my life and must be held accountable."

"But you can't—you just can't," Tessa whimpered. She wriggled her arms and discovered that Scott had managed to loosen the ropes somewhat. Her heart pounded against her chest in a painful fashion as she awaited Valdez's response.

"Ah yes, Mister Madison. I can see why you would be so concerned over him. After all, you whored yourself to him like a common slut earlier, am I not correct?" Tessa had the grace to go crimson at Raphael Valdez's question.

"I would surmise you saw everything that happened in the glen earlier. You tell me," she retorted. She pulled on the ropes as hard as she could and, to her delight, found that they fell around her ankles. Tessa stood her ground before Valdez, arms crossed in front of her.

"Boss?" Simon spoke rapidly. "We've got t-trouble!"

"What are you talking about?" Valdez asked. "Someone's coming! Can't you hear them?" Simon asked, looking through the trees.

Both Valdez and Tessa turned their heads at the sound of voices audible just beyond the glen. People were shouting for Scott. She thought about grabbing Scott's hand and running from the glen, but decided against it, as she knew with certainty that the Guard would find her.

Valdez panicked. He pointed the gun at Tessa's parents and shot; nothing happened. He tried to fire again and got the same result.

"Boss, we've g-got to get out of here," Simon warned, worry etched into his features. He picked his jacket up from off the ground and pulled out a pistol. "They're going to have us s-surrounded at any moment!"

"I knew it! Someone did escape before we arrived!" Valdez screamed.

"No!" Tessa cried.

"You lie! Nobody would know to look here! Who was it? Who was in this glen before we arrived?"

"I don't know—we were the only ones here!" Tessa lied.

"Boss!" Simon warned, panicking. "Cloaking charms take a few seconds to work, and we—"

"They're both going to pay and if I can't touch Madison, I'm going to do the next best thing, damn it!" With that, Valdez yanked a gun from Simon's hand, pressed the barrel to Michael Laughlin's temple and pulled the trigger. As Tessa screamed he repeated the process with her mother, the shot quick and clean. Tessa's father had carried a gun for several years as a member of the Scarlet Guard; as a young girl, she had watched him clean it more than once and he had shown her how they worked, where the safeties were and what a silencer looked like. She had never seen him use the weapon, however, and found that, despite Valdez's use of a silencer similar to the one her father owned, the gunshots were still very loud.

For a split second, Tessa thought that nothing had happened and that the gun had only fired blanks. Her parents still sat upon the grass, still uncommunicative, eyes glassy but seemingly unharmed. Then, to her horror,

Tessa saw the body of her father collapse against her mother's, a very small splotch of blood surrounding a star-shaped wound near his eyebrow. The movement had a domino effect: Linda Laughlin fell to one side, her husband following grotesquely. Neither parent's wound bled; Tessa knew that dead people didn't bleed.

"I think it is time we make our exit, Simon," Valdez intoned to his servant. "Miss Laughlin, I'll destroy you and I'll destroy Madison as well. Sweet dreams."

With that chilling comment, Valdez nodded to his second in command. Both muttered a cloaking charm and within seconds, faded into invisibility.

Tessa screamed and rushed to her parents' side and grasped their hands. Looking into their dead eyes, she began to hyperventilate as the knowledge that her parents were never coming back to her sank into her brain. Sitting next to their lifeless forms, she began to rock back and forth, her head in her hands. She pleaded with her parents to regain consciousness. "Wake up! Please, don't leave me alone, I need you so much!" Their eyes remained unseeing. Her mother had always loved tending her rose garden in Covington. Now the flowers were without a caretaker. "Oh my God I've ruined everything," she sobbed.

The thought of her parent's safe return had been the only thing keeping her mentally coherent all week. The idea that she was responsible for their death was too much for her to handle. She cradled their lifeless forms in her arms, tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face. This was how the Scarlet Guard found her moments later.

"There she is!" cried one. "See to it that she doesn't escape!" The Scarlet Guardsmen entered the clearing from every imaginable direction. Tessa screamed as someone grabbed from behind and pulled away from her dead parents. She looked for Scott and found him standing next to two officers; someone had given him a blanket to wrap up in and something warm to drink from a thermos. It looked as if he was telling the authorities that Valdez and Spellman had cloaked themselves and had only just escaped. Other members of the Guard were searching the brush and the trees for signs of Valdez. Two more guardsmen were attempting to identify the dead Visionists.

"Dr. Butler and Mallory Decatur told us everything, Laughlin. You'll rot in Solomon's Triangle for what you've done tonight!" The head guardsman said as he placed her in handcuffs. Tessa broke into a cold sweat. Not the Triangle! Considered by most as the most horrible place to hold a magical person, Solomon's Triangle was the prison of the damned, of the lost souls, and the holding pen for the world's most notorious magical criminals. Once condemned to the prison by the Head of Loyalist Security, prisoners had to hand over their wand, if indeed they had one, for destruction. After being placed in adamantine handcuffs and shackles, prisoners were spirited away by the wardens who guarded the prison, never to be seen or heard from again. Many rumors abounded as to what happened inside the prison's forbidding gates; and the wardens who guarded the fortress did nothing to dispel them.

The stories were terrible—witches and wizards were chained to the walls and forced to hang until their arms popped out of their sockets; prisoners were placed in solitary confinement for the rest of their lives; nobody who went in ever came out alive. The one certainty was that those who entered the fortress were stripped of their magical abilities and their minds were wiped clean. The prisoners became walking zombies.

Tessa had to tell them the truth about what happened; it was her only chance for survival. She pulled in vain against the cuffs. They bit into her wrists, leaving red welts in their wake. "Please, you have to believe me! I was trying to save Scott, and my parents too! I meant Scott no harm!"

"Tell that to the judge," the guardsman said with a sneer. "I might warn you ahead of time that he's not easily swayed."

Tessa bit her lip and looked across the glen. Scott sat on the forest floor, his head in his hands, the blanket draped over his shoulders. An officer knelt next to him, patting Scott awkwardly on the shoulder and whispering to him. Occasionally, Scott nodded his head; Tessa wondered what the guard was saying to him.

With a combination of frustration and hopelessness, Tessa stopped struggling against the cuffs that held her and allowed the events of the past several hours to soak in: dinner at le Bistro, Scott's heartfelt comments and their first lovemaking, Valdez's invasion of the glen and Simon's attempted rape. Lastly, she thought of her parents. Their bodies had been placed in bags and lifted onto stretchers for transport to the morgue. She hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to them, and the chances of her seeing them again were less than zero. They had died in a manner honorable to the Loyalist cause they served and Tessa had been powerless to stop their demise.

A cry from deep within, low and painful burst forth: Tessa's wail of despair pierced the relative stillness of the evening. The noise fell upon deaf ears as, without preamble or ceremony, the guard who had cuffed Tessa pushed her into the back seat of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's vehicle.

~Epilogue~

Tessa shivered on the floor of the holding cell, her body curled up tightly as she fought for warmth. The plain, pale blue prison shift she wore provided little barrier to the drafts that whipped and whistled through the cracks of the old cell, snaking up her legs. She looked about the room and fought the urge to be sick: a smelly, yellowed mattress covered with a tattered brown blanket (which had thousands of fleas crawling on it, she discovered, while trying to cover herself with it) lay in one corner. The room wasn't equipped with a toilet; instead a hole in the opposite end of the room had to suffice. Beams of light that shined through a tiny barred window near the top of the cell threw a dim light into the room. Mildew and poorly-spelled graffiti covered the walls.

Tessa was in the cell awaiting trial for treason, owing to her supposed involvement in Valdez's failed rise to power. She awakened there on Sunday morning, when a surly-looking guard threw a bottle of water and an apple into the dank cubicle, directly at her. The plastic bottle hit her in the side of the head, causing a rather painful lump to rise on her temple.

She remembered asking the guard where she was and how she had gotten there. "Two officers of the Scarlet Guard brought you here early Saturday morning and insisted that you had to be held here before your hearing. I invite you to try to use what magical powers you might have to escape, but you'll never succeed. Those walls were designed with a special material that repels spells or curses. Valdez himself couldn't break outta here!"

"Where's Scott? Is he all right?" she asked. "My parents—what happened to my parents?"

The guard laughed at her. "Scott Madison? You'll never see him again. The Department of Magical Defense'll see to that. They're the ones who are drawing up the charges against you. You're going to get a hearing later in the month, but I think it's a waste of time and taxpayer money. Your guilt comes off you like a stench."

"Hearing? Then I have a chance to explain myself?" Tessa leaped to her feet, brightening. "Once I tell them everything, I'm certain that I'll be allowed to go free! And then I'll find Scott and explain—I have to stay here for a month?" Tessa cried out incredulously, changing the subject mid- sentence as the guard's words sank into her brain. "This cell isn't fit for a dog, much less a human being! I can't stay here for that long!"

"If you did all the things you're accused of, you're less than a dog! You consorted with Raphael Valdez, turned traitor on your own kind and watched as the Visionists murdered your parents in cold blood! And as for findin' Scott, you'll be doing no such thing," The guard leaned against the bars of the cell. "I doubt that you'll ever see that kid again. He hates you! Said as much himself when the Scarlet Guard found him!"

"No." Tessa's hand clamped over her mouth. "I must see him. I have to see him. He needs to understand why I did what I did!"

The guard turned to leave. "If half of the rumors about you are true, you'll never see the light of day again! The staff at Solomon's Triangle will have a field day with you! As for your parents, their funerals have been arranged for Tuesday. Such a shame that you won't be able to attend their memorial."

The guard left without looking back. Tessa ran to the door of her cell and grabbed the bars with her hands. "Let me out! I can explain the whole thing right now, please!" Her pleas were met with the steady clomp of the guard's retreating footsteps and the sound of him humming "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."

You'll just deal with it, she thought. You won't be in here long and when you go to your hearing, you can explain everything. Then they'll have to let you go free. . .

They had to.

~END OF BOOK ONE~
