Part One

The snap of the cold as he walked out of the warm house made Josh shiver. He'd never get used to these New Hampshire winters, he thought. As he walked down the ice-encrusted sidewalk, his necklace grew cold, despite its location next to his skin and three layers of clothing removed from the air. He ran a finger under it, wishing for the thousandth time that his grandfather had never given it to him, had never made him promise to wear it always. He looked at it in the mirror every morning and wondered what about it meant so much to the old man. It looked like your standard-issue dark red metal necklace, the kind you could get made with shells in Hawaii for 10 bucks. It was exactly the wrong fit for his neck, too: too tight to be unnoticeable but too lose to avoid friction. It looked ridiculous with almost everything he wore; thus making turtlenecks his main clothing item of choice.

"That's one thing in New Hampshire's favor," he thought. "I never have to show people my neck." In fact, he doubted it had ever slipped out; he'd only had it since he'd arrived a year ago and he kept to himself, mostly. A town like this tended to be insular and his grandfather's status as town crank hadn't helped his introduction to it.

His thoughts were abruptly distracted from his accessories when he spotted the house coming up on his right. Kate Miller's house. In a town of 5000, she was the one everyone knew, everyone remembered, everyone dreamed about. She was tall, almost 6 feet, and had impossibly long legs, more likely dark from the tanning salon she owned than from any New England sun. Her trim body, kept thin by her twin passions of skiing and jogging (the town's favorite spectator sport), was capped by two breasts that dominated the attention of any man she met--they strained the bounds of all of her clothing and, best of all, had to be natural: there simply weren't any plastic surgery options in northern New Hampshire. She had a small chin, high cheekbones, sparkling green eyes, a thin nose (which always seemed to remind Josh of Sarah Michelle Gellar's) and brown hair, which fell to her shoulders. Her parents viewed her with an air of amazement; the two were unremarkable-looking at best, and so considered her the second Immaculate Conception.

She was now closing in on 25, however, and her continual status as a single woman both baffled and relieved the town. Everyone lived in continual fear of some movie star, or modeling agency finding Kate and relocating her to the big city. Yet every day, they got up, and found her still residing in a modest, two-bedroom house on the west side of town, kept company by her dog and three cats. She had never had a live-in boyfriend, and, in fact, had been unattached since her sophomore year in high school. It was as if the men of the town had agreed together to leave her single, so they could all fantasize about having her. She had planned to go to college, but the outcry that brought about from the town had convinced her to stay and open her shop, a shop that held the unique distinction of being the lone tanning salon in the entire world to enjoy a predominantly male clientele.

Josh had never visited the salon, and his experiences with Kate consisted mainly of a feeble wave as he passed by her house on the way to and from his job as manager of the local video store. He wasn't quite sure how he'd gone from a degree in history at Dartmouth to running a video store in a town of 5000, but he knew it involved the death of his grandfather, the man who had raised him. After that, he had been in what was essentially a holding pattern, waiting for a sign, for something.

RARGH ARGH RARGH RARGH!!!!

The angry barking of a dog was all the warning Josh had before he was blindsided by 80 pounds of pure canine rage. The thing smashed into his side, spinning him into the street and smashing his face into the pavement. Its teeth ripped into his jacket, burrowing through the layers of goose down, wool and cotton and finding the flesh underneath. Pain like nothing he had ever experienced flashed through him. The dog's nose touched his neck and for a brief moment, he knew true fear.

"Don't let me die, PLEASE." The thought flooded his mind, consuming him. He was possessed by the all-powerful desire to survive. And the dog...convulsed. There was no other word to describe it. Its body flew backwards and slammed into a tall oak tree, sending dead leaves tumbling to the ground. Josh staggered to his feet, feeling the warm blood cascade down his back. The dog lay on its back in the snow to the side of the path leading up to Kate's house. "House. Warm. Sleep," Josh thought. He moved slowly, putting his entire mind in his feet, as he agonizingly walked down the path, up the gray wooden steps, to the screen on the front door. He slumped to his knees as his finger somehow found the doorbell and pressed down. Not even the clumping of feet inside the house could rouse him after this effort. His head hung down, and swirling snow somehow found its way inside his jacket, chilling his wound.

"Oh my god! Josh!" The words somehow penetrate the thickness inside his head. He tried to raise his head to see who was talking to him, but failed.

"Back," was all he could say. "My...........back."

She leaned over his kneeling body. "Dear god!" were the last words Josh heard as darkness claimed him.

"So listen, Lindsay, how about I take you on a tour of the frat?"

"Sounds...great." She bit her bottom lip nervously and rubbed her legs together, moving her already short black skirt dangerously higher up. He reached out his hand and pulled her up, and was reminded of why he'd gone to all this effort in the first place. A great set of tits, deeply tanned and nearly hanging out of her tiny white tube top. A sexy stomach, complete with a ring in the navel, and great legs made even better by five-inch heels. She followed Josh upstairs to his room. He dropped his shoes outside his room, and led her in.

"Listen..." she began.

"Shh..." he said, and silenced her with his lips.

"Mmm...mmm....mmmmmm."

At first Lindsay made noises of protest, but the sensation coursing through her body turned them into moans. Their tongues warred with each other as Josh ran his hands down her back and onto her firm ass. He ran his tongue along the inside of her mouth and she shivered with pleasure. He could hear her breathing quicken, and her tongue matched his, pushing into his mouth. Josh ran his hands up her back and abruptly realized she wasn't wearing a bra. He moved back down, pushing her skirt off and revealing a black thong. Her hands worked feverishly at his clothes, attempting to match his efforts. They stopped kissing briefly to remove their tops, and Josh took a second to admire her shaven pussy while she gaped at the size of his dick.

"Oh god, I can't wait," Lindsay said, but her widened eyes betrayed her anxiety.

"Come here," Josh said.

Lindsay walked toward him, still nervous. Josh gently urged her downward. She licked her lips, then took to her knees. She kissed the underside of his dick, then moved around, planting her lips on nearly every part, until finally taking it in her mouth. She focused on his head, massaging the rest of his dick with her hands. Josh put his hands on the back of her head and softly applied pressure. She moved down another two inches, then started sucking, running her tongue along the sensitive underside all the while. He exhaled loudly.

"Oh god...more,"

She took the hint, and went down more, taking in about half of his cock in her mouth, and bobbed back and forth. He felt his pleasure increase, and telltale electricity starting to build. He pushed her back and lifted her up.

"No. I don't want it like that."

With that, he attacked her mouth with his tongue; passionately kissing her as he walked her slowly to his bed, then laid her down on it. For the 15 seconds it took for him to put his condom on, he saw her face, captured in his memory forever the look of total lust on it--parted lips, flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes--then he lay on top of her and thrust himself into her

"Ohhhh!" she half-moaned, half-cried out, and he felt the same way, as the tightness of her pussy excited him in a way he hadn't known since high school. He began to move his hips, back and forth, back and forth, and she matched his efforts. He ran his fingernails in spirals around her breasts and gently tweaked her nipples.

"Unnnnnhhh," she moaned. Clearly, his attention to her breasts was having some effect. He pulled out of her and lifted her up, then lay down on the bed to make his intentions clear. She straddled him, positioned herself carefully, then impaled herself fully in one stroke. She moved her body up and down, bouncing on the bed as she took his cock deep inside of her. His hands continued to work their magic on her breasts--tickling the underside and gently pulling her nipples.

He was lost in the moment--it seemed to go on forever. She bounced up and down, his hands ran up and down her small, trim body, and his hips rose and fell with hers, even their breathing mingled. Then she spoke.

"Oh god...I think...oh...god...."

She was close. He ran his around the back of her body and found her ass. He gently pushed one finger into her asshole and crooked it, massaging the underside of her anal canal. That was enough. Her pussy clenched even tighter, then loosened, then tightened again, and she began to scream with pleasure. This drove him to the edge. Currents of pleasure ran down his cock and up his spine, reaching the most primitive parts of his brain. All he knew was, "More. Don't stop. More." She continued to wail and as she continued to wail, she leaned back and pinched her own nipples with her fingers.

The edge was behind him now; he was out in the middle of the air, just a few...more...

And he exploded into her, let loose a torrent of cum; a raging waterfall that felt like it would never stop. Then it was finally over, and she leaned forward and laid herself on top of him, entranced in the moment. Her hair was streaked with sweat; her body glistened in the lamplight. He closed his eyes.

- - -

And opened them again, and found himself in an unfamiliar room. White walls, a white sheet stretched over him, the familiar itch of his necklace and...blinding pain in his shoulder. He was flat on his back and at the mercy of the world...and the tremendous erection that currently made its presence known by the rise in the bed sheet. "Oh God..." he thought. "I hope she doesn't..."

Almost on cue, Kate walked in. Her first sight was his alert eyes, and she sighed in relief. Her second was the sheet, and she turned bright red.

"Jesus," Josh thought. "just leave the room and forget about it. If there's any justice in the world, just leave the room and forget."

Kate's eyes went blank and she backed out of the room.

"OK..." Josh thought. "That was weird."

As Josh lay on the bed, clad only in his boxers, he racked his brains for any reason he could think of for Kate's sudden behavior. He tried to chew on a fingernail as he thought, but the shooting pain in his shoulder made it impossible.

"Ok," he thought. "First the dog goes flying off of me for no good reason. Then I wish that Kate would get the hell out of the room and she does. This has never happened to me before. Fuck, yesterday I wished that Ms. O'Malley would return that damn Brad Pitt movie to my store and she still has it. So something has chan...SON OF A BITCH!"

"It's the same goddamn dog! That fucking dog that jumped on my back, that fucking brown mutt with the white spots, it's in the fucking doorway! What the fuck?" While these thoughts were running through his head his body had reacted on its own, curling up into the fetal position. He started to whimper.

Kate came running in the room. "I heard the shouting, wha--oh. Lucky! I told you not to come in here! Oh god, that must have scared the living daylights out of you! You poor thing!"

He could hear her voice, and the soft padding of her feet as she walked around the bed. "She's actually going to talk to you. Say something brilliant, something that convinces her you haven't gone totally nuts by curling up into a ball and whimpering when you saw her dog--even though it did maul you, tear great chunks out of your back," he thought. His body had totally abandoned his mind by now, however. What he did was rock back and forth on the bed, and--"Oh, shit," he thought--start to sob. Great, racking coughs of pain convulsed him. His mind was most assuredly back in his body now; all his thought processes were absorbed in the throbbing, fiery pain in his back. He suddenly realized he had to pee, bad. The intrusion of another sensation into the hellish symphony currently playing in his shoulder was welcome. He tried to get up, and started to fall back to his bed, but arms wrapped around him--Kate's?--and pulled him up.

"I...pee" Wow. Brilliant line, he thought.

"Sure, honey," she said in her most soothing tone. She carefully supported his whole weight, virtually carrying him to the bathroom. "Can you handle it from here?"

"I...yes...thank..."

"Please don't mention it. I feel terrible about Lucky--he's never done anything like that before. He's really sweet."

He slammed the door in response. After awkwardly taking care of his business, he leaned against the sink and examined himself in the mirror. Unfortunately, he couldn't see his wound, so it was impossible to gauge its severity. He swayed, and instinctively reached out a hand against the mirror to support his weight. Mistake. The waves of pain crashed down on him again, slamming him time and again against the harsh sand of reality. This bite was bad news. He had to get it taken care of professionally. He looked up, bleary-eyed, at the mirror, and wished with all his heart that the wound would just heal, right then and there.

The red necklace flashed three times, and the world went away.

He awoke in the white room again, but everything was different this time. Kate sat in a chair, watching him, a worried look on her face. The dog sat in the doorway. And...the pain...

Was gone.

He sat up--unsteadily, but pain-free.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Kate asked.

"I wish I knew." But he did know. The necklace was the key! It had flashed those three times, and now he was whole again, as if the attack had never happened. So why didn't he tell Kate? He wasn't sure, but something instinctively told him to keep it from her.

"I think you do know. And I want you to tell me right now. I'm really creeped out. What happened in that bathroom?" She had been watching him as he thought. Damn. He had to think...

"Well, Kate. See this necklace? Check it out." She leaned forward to examine it, and, as she did, he wished that she would just accept the next thing he said as what had happened, wished it as hard as he could. Her face went blank, like it had before, but she remained in her position.

"Ok. It was just a scrape, really, and you did a great job fixing it up. I'm naturally a fast healer, so it's no wonder it's already fading away." He paused, and then did something he couldn't explain for the rest of his life. "You are attracted to me, and you will stop trying to fight your desire. You only want to see me better. One of the best cures for anything is sex. Your inhibitions are gone, and you want to make both you and me feel good. Ok, that's it."

She exhaled, and fell back into her chair. After several seconds, she shook her head, smiled at him in a way that would have launched a thousand ships and, on a more intimate level, made all of Josh's thoughts focus on his dick. "I'll be back in a bit to check on you, sweetie," she said, and sashayed out of the room.

Damn. What had gotten into him? He wasn't that kind of guy who ran around hypnotizing girls and molding their thoughts. And yet...that look of desire and happiness on her face...who was he to say that she was worse off under his command? And he hadn't done too much, just removed her inhibitions, really. Yeah, it was nothing. But somewhere, deep down in his mind was a something that finally understood why his grandfather had lived like a virtual hermit after his wife had died at a young age, and had behaved so oddly around the people of this town. There was tremendous power behind this necklace, yes, and temptation too.

"Knock knock!" Kate peeked around the side of the door, then walked in, wearing only a nightie. He wanted her, right then and there. He had to have her.

"Hi there Kate. Listen. I really wanted to thank you from saving me from the dog..."

"Lucky"

"Yes. And for cleaning me up, and undressing me, and all that. It can't have been easy." That was the setup, the perfect opportunity for her to add a note of flirtation to the proceedings. Now, to see if what he had said earlier had worked

"Well, it wasn't hard. And, well, you being you, it made it a lot easier."

Yes! "Oh?"

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know why I'm being so forward...but I find you very...you're cute. I really like you, Josh."

"Well, now. That wasn't so hard." He grinned.

She chuckled. "No, I guess not. I'm usually very shy around boys. Maybe it's because I'm...well...I haven't had a boyfriend since sophomore year."

"In college?"

"High school."

"You poor thing! You've probably never experienced how great it is being with a man." Oops. Oh god...did he just say that? "That is...being with a member of the opposite sex." He was making it worse. "That is...being in a relationship." There. Would she laugh at him? Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"None of the above, actually."

"Wait. You're a..."

"Yes."

"But you're so beautiful!" She blushed! She actually blushed! "Have I embarrassed you?"

"No, not at all, it's just..." She looked at him with her deep green eyes, and he rolled the covers off his bed, leaned forward, and kissed her. Her teeth were closed in shock, but then her mouth gently opened under pressure from his, and the warm cavern of her mouth embraced his tongue. God...she might not have had much experience, but she sure could kiss. He opened his eyes briefly, and saw her concentrating with all her power on the kiss, saw her every thought focused on it. No girl had ever given him that level of attention; there had always been something more, beyond him, occupying their thoughts. Shit, this necklace was powerful. His left hand moved down her body towards her ass, and he lifted her up so she stood with him, while his other hand began to massage her breast. She stopped.

"Look, I don't know..."

"Shhh." He wished that she would lose her inhibitions totally, that she would be willing to have sex with him. The necklace flashed three times. Her head went backwards as if she had been slapped, then she shook it and dove back into the kiss. He went under her nightie, and gently slipped it over her head. She held her hands in the air and wriggled out of it, exposing the obsession of every man in town. She was...perfect. There was no other way to describe her. Her breasts were high and firm and were capped by two medium-sized brown nipples. Her stomach was flat, the coloring of her bikini zone left no doubt as to her tanning activities, and she was carefully trimmed and maintained in all the right places--all this despite her unattached status. It was almost as if she had been waiting for something--for Josh?

She tenderly took off his boxers, leaving both of them naked, and Josh obviously excited.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"It's just that...I've never seen one before."

"It's ok. I'll be gentle."

He slowly turned around her, and took her in his arms again, kissing her softly on the mouth, then pulling back, then kissing her again, then pulling back. The third time, she instinctively moved forward to try and keep their mouths together, making a disappointed noise when he escaped. So he thrust himself against her, pressing his lips hard against hers, reaching deeply into her mouth with his tongue. He suddenly became painfully aware of his cock jammed against her stomach.

Josh pulled back again, and eased Kate down onto the bed. He carefully spread her legs, then dove into her pussy with his tongue. He was a whirlwind, a cyclone. He fingered her with one hand, swiped her clitoris again and again with his tongue, and tweaked her nipples with his other hand. She was squirming, now, her face tensed, her body stiffening and then relaxing.

"Oh...god...what's going on?" she said

Fuck, how sheltered was she? "Shh, let it come." He pushed his tongue deep inside her, then began licking her clit again. He managed to squeeze in another finger into her pussy and curled the two together, working the roof of her canal. Kate's fingers were twined in his hair, then they were touching her own nipples, then they were behind her head. She was frantic, now, confused, but overwhelmed with incredible pleasure. Josh could feel the tension inside of her building, reaching the limit, until finally, incredibly, she came. She thrashed on the bed, moaning, for what seemed like hours. Her pussy gushed out, coating Josh's face with her sweet scent. She tried to get a hold of herself.

"Josh, that was..."

"Shh. We haven't even started."

He walked up the bed with his hands, until he was right above her. He spread her legs still more, then allowed his cock to finally touch the outside of her. Oozing with precum, his dick moved up the inside of her thigh, and along her throbbing lips, coating itself with moisture. He aligned himself, and gently started easing in. God...she was incredible. He was halfway in when she started moaning.

"More....harder...."

Never one to be asked twice, he slammed the rest of his way in, burying his entire shaft in her. She screamed with pleasure. He responded. He pulled out almost all the way, slowly, then slammed in again. She screamed again. Out. In. Scream. Out. In. Scream. He picked up the pace. Now it was a continual howl, and now she began to cum again. And again. And again. She was shaking, quivering, on another level of human existence. This situation had never happened before to him, and before he knew what he was doing, he was fervently wishing she wouldn't pass out. The necklace flashed. Her body couldn't escape the pleasure. So she kept coming, and the waves of pleasure crashing on her became tsunamis. Josh was getting a little scared, to tell the truth, but he felt the pleasure building up in him. Having someone continually orgasming underneath you, continuing to squeeze your cock, then release, then squeeze again, was incredibly arousing. He kept thrusting, until he, too, erupted, right inside of her. After emptying about a gallon of semen inside of her, he collapsed on top, and could feel the twitching of her muscles as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to rock her system.

He wondered if he was crushing her, so he rolled off, but she just stayed like she was, spread eagled, hands in her hair, eyes closed. Incredible. Just incredible. Josh lay on his back until sleep took him.

"Sir! We have a report of an unauthorized five-oh-five in sector Beta Zulu Alpha!"

Roger Thompson whirled around in his chair.

"No, that's impossible. Check the instruments."

"I did, sir. Three times. It's a five-oh-five."

"Fuck."

"Yes, sir."

There was still one left. God damn it, he'd built this bureau up from nothing, had gone in to convince the president himself about the need for monitoring psychic phenomena, had built the first detector with his own hands. He wasn't about to go tell the president that he'd failed, that somehow a device that could reach a 5.0 on the Yurometer had slipped through the cracks and wound up in some pissant corner of America.

"I want you to send Agents Davis and Caldwell on this one. Get them now. Tell them everything they need to know. FIND THAT DEVICE!"

"Sir!"

The aide ran out of the room at top speed. Thompson folded his fingers together. Somewhere, there was a man or woman controlling a huge amount of psychic force. An unprecedented amount. Enough to set off the main detectors even from somewhere in sector BZA, in...where was BZA again? Ah. New Hampshire.

The raven cocked its head, hearing one of them in the distance. Perhaps this was its lucky day; perhaps this one would kill one of the foxes, leaving the raven enough food for a week. As it came into view, the raven was puzzled. This was a new beast. It made a noise like the others, but it was longer, sleeker, and the same color as the raven. It pulled to the side of the road below the raven, and two two-legged creatures got out, also the same color as the raven. The raven hopped down from branch to branch, trying to get closer. It heard the conversation below, but could not understand it.

"Agent Davis, why did we stop here?"

"We need to go over our stories again before we enter the town, Agent Caldwell. One final review."

"Jesus, Davis, we've been partners for ten years. I've been an agent for 13. Don't you think I can remember a goddamn story? These people aren't expecting anything. We don't need to be perfect."

"Wrong, Caldwell. We must be perfect. There's something in this town that's releasing the most amount of psychic energy seen since the late '70s. This is big. If we succeed, our performance will be taught to new agents; we'll be legends."

The raven fluttered down to the lowest branch of the tree, eye-level with the creatures. It cocked its head.

"What the fuck?"

"Davis, it's just a bird, calm down."

"We don't know how this device works. It's owner could be controlling local wildlife. Our mission could be compromised."

"Davis, no one's been able to control wildlife since..."

"The late '70s."

"Fuck."

The taller creature looked at the raven with narrowed eyes. The smaller one-the female?-turned away and got inside the large noisy predator. The taller one reached into its jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny grey object. The raven was intrigued. It bobbed its head up and down and craned its neck forward to get a better look.

A crack of noise, a brief flash of pain, and the soft flutter of downy feathers, a minor downpour of soft black rain.

Agent Davis got back into the car.

"Ok Caldwell, you're my wife..."

He entered her with his tongue, flicking back and forth, then went up and down along her slit, then traced circles around her small nub. He drew his teeth along it, gently scraping it. Kate moaned in her sleep and made soft sounds of pleasure. Josh used his fingers to enter her, feeling the upper wall of her vagina, and targeted her tender g-spot. He licked one of the fingers of his other hand and gently lifted up her ass, then slid his finger into her asshole. He was an artist, creating a masterpiece of arousal for an audience of one. Kate grimaced in her sleep and shook herself. She was slowly waking up. Josh accelerated his pace, using every part of his hands and mouth to pleasure Kate. She was breathing faster now, but her eyes were still closed. Faster, faster, faster, faster, then her eyes opened with a start and a scream of pure pleasure exited her mouth. He wasn't sure how many orgasms her body could take after their last encounter, so he moved up on the bed again and lay down next to her.

"Thanks"

"My pleasure. Helluva way to wake up, huh?"

"Josh, I mean it. Thanks for everything, for that, for...before. I've never...felt anything that intense before."

"I'm glad I could be...the one, y'know."

"I wanted to explain something. I'm...I was a virgin, but you must have noticed something."

"You were perfect."

"Thanks." She blushed. "But, I didn't have what virgins...traditionally have."

"A hymen?"

She blushed again. "God, just say it," he thought. "Stop being so embarassed." He noticed three red flashes emanating from his neck. "CRAP!" He had forgotten the necklace. Odd, it had always been so uncomfortable, so noticeable before.

"I was in a biking accident when I was ten, that's why I didn't have a hymen."

"Look, I didn't even notice. I was sort of, y'know, caught up in the moment. Why are you telling me this?"

"I just thought you would want to know my whole, history, I guess. Since we're a couple now."

Those five words should have sent Josh screaming for the door. But he just laid there, smiled, and said, "You're right. Tell me more about yourself."

"Look, there's the welcome sign!"

"Quiet, Caldwell. Look. Whoever has the device just used it. Idiot. Now we won't even need our cover stories. Plug it into the computer and find out where he is."

"She."

"What?"

"Where "she" is. We don't know its a man."

Davis shot Caldwell a look of pure disgust but held his tongue. Stupid woman. Just because she had fat red lips and a 36D bust, she thought she could spew out bullshit feminist crap. He allowed himself to fantasize about destroying her pathetic illusions with some carefully chosen words, then remembered about the mission. He couldn't allow his growing exasperation with Caldwell to jeopardize their mission. This was his chance to make it big.

"...sex again?"

"Sex" caught his attention. "What?"

"I said, can we have sex again? I want to feel the way I felt before, with your big cock inside me."

"Uh...ok." This was kind of weird. Josh wasn't sure about how he felt about Kate talking like a whore. Still, the prospect of sex with her was an offer he couldn't refuse. He rolled on top of her and started kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her stomach. He trailed his tongue down the side of her legs, and was about to go for her pussy again, when her hands grabbed his head and pulled.

"What?"

"None of that. I want the real thing."

Josh was slightly hurt. No girl had turned down his tongue before. But what the hell, no skin off his back. He looked into her eyes, watched her face as he entered her, fed off the obvious pleasure she exuded. His dick was pressured, squeezed from all sides by her warm, wet cavern. He took it slowly at first, sliding in and out, savoring every second of contact made with her, every nerve stimulated by her body. He started thrusting more vigorously and bent his neck down, concentrating on the motion of his hips. Then he surrendered to the primitive urges filling his brain, and shut down his thoughts. He simply did what came naturally, pounding in and out of Kate, all gentleness gone. This was a new thing for Josh and he would marvel later at how he had lost himself in the act of making love-of fucking, for that was what he did. His body made a slapping noise on every downthrust, and this drove Kate wild. She cried out for him, begging him to continue, to never, ever stop. He had lost control of himself, though, and all brakes had been removed. He was a truck, careening full tilt down a steep incline. She was in a car next to him, racing him to the ledge. She pulled ahead, then he caught up, then gained a small lead. Just as he was about to fall off, Josh, now totally lost, ruled by his most primitive passions, shouted through gritted teeth, "OH FUCK YEAH, KATE. TAKE ME, SLUT!" Kate found the extra gear, and the ledge, just as Josh did. Both were too lost to notice that Josh's necklace had began to flash rhythymically, in tune with Josh's up and down strokes. As Kate and Josh came, the necklace turned a bright red.

"Well, it says this is the place. Too bad we haven't gotten another reading, it would be nice to know if he's still..."

The Yurometer flashed a bright, blood red and exploded in his hands. Psychic energy rushed through the agents' bodies, rippling outward. If the Agency's new Yurometer-equipped sattelite had been over the town at that moment, it would have seen a tidal wave of energy rushing in all directions, emanating from a small white house on the west side of town.

Davis reluctantly surfaced onto the beach of consciousness. He groaned. He had been having the oddest dream. He and Agent Caldwell had been...fucking...right there in the car. He looked at Caldwell. Odd...he had never noticed how beautiful she was. Her short, dirty-blonde hair, her luscious lips, her deep blue eyes, her legs, stretching out from underneath a modest skirt, her cleavage, only hinted at by her white shirt. Vanessa was gorgeous. Davis couldn't control himself. He leaned over and put his lips on hers, entering her mouth with his tongue. She awoke with a start, and started to push him off, but surrendered almost immediately. Davis was already intensely aroused, and when she began kissing him back, matching him with her passion, he could no longer wait. He reached a hand around her back, under her skirt, and ripped off her panties. With his other hand, he unzipped his pants, freeing his cock.

"Come here, bitch."

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her with his arms-she was surprisingly light!-lined her up, then slammed her down on his cock, fully impaling her. As if to compensate for the space inside of her that had been filled, Vanessa exhaled heavily. "Oh god, Davis, that feels so gooooood."

"Shut up."

She did nothing; he lifted her up, and slammed her back down on his cock, like a jackhammer, over and over and over. She was leaning over him, now, her head angled back, her eyes closed. She was lost in her own world. Davis didn't know if she was close, and he didn't care. He could feel his groin tightening, the flashes of electricity building up. He began to shout wordlessly. Vanessa's voice joined his. His hands, bloody from the explosion, traced red streaks up and down her shirt. His blood and sweat mixed together, soaking his shirt. He had no interest in holding back. He came like a volcano, fillng Vanessa with his seed. The eruption within her triggered Vanessa, and she arched her back and howled like an animal for what seemed like hours before finally collapsing on top of him, still filled with his cock.

His cell-phone began to ring.

"Shit! Get off me." Vanessa climbed off, clearly pouting. She wanted more. She felt...odd...down in her pussy. She reached down and felt around. A flash of electricity rushed up her spine. She shook herself. That felt...good. She had tried masturbating when she was in high school, but it had never worked. It had never felt like this, though. She had to have more. She began rubbing, frantically.

"What is it, sir? What mission?" The phone crackled angrily. "Sir...please...I'm just up here with Vanessa on vacation...what? Psychic device? I'm ON VACATION. I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO. I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY DEVICE." As the chief yelled over the phone, Davis glanced at his partner. She was spread eagled in her chair, leaning back, her hand under skirt, her mouth twisted in pleasure.

"Sir. Shut up. I have to go." He clicked off his phone and turned to Vanessa. "Oh, so you thought you could get some without me, eh?" She giggled as he lifted her again.

"Send a full squad to the following coordinates. Tell them to bring back the device, and kill whoever is using it."

It was too late to save the owner now; the process had begun. Soon he would be like the others, controlled by the device. It was for his own good.

It was for his own good.

Josh decided to try something.

"Kate?"

She turned, excitement clearly visible on her face. "What? Ready to fuck again?"

"Uh...no."

"Oh."

"Listen...I want you to try something. Kate, have you ever tried masturbating before?"

"Of course! It doesn't work, though."

"Well, just wait a second." Josh concentrated and wished that masturbating for...ten minutes would give Kate an incredible orgasm...and that she wouldn't remember what he was doing just then. He wasn't clear on why Kate shouldn't know, but something within wanted the necklace's power to remain his secret. It flashed three times, illuminating the darkening room. Kate's face slackened, and she gazed at him for about ten seconds without a hint of recognition in her eyes. Then she shook her head slightly.

"I want you to try touching yourself, Kate."

"I told you, it doesn't work!"

"Just try it. For me."

"O...k..." She looked at him, trying to figure out what he was up to. Josh shuddered inwardly. Kate wouldn't have done this yesterday. She wouldn't have looked at him like that, wouldn't have...questioned him...she was different now. She started stroking her slit with her fingers, rubbing up and down. A look of surprise came onto her face. Something was happening.

"Oooh....god...."

Josh smiled. This would occupy her for a while. This type of thinking was new to him; he wouldn't have done this to Kate yesterday. He recognized this and accepted it-she was no longer Kate, she was someone else; someone possessed by-addicted to-sex. Something was wrong and he had to find out what it was.

He clambered out of bed and searched for his clothes. Kate didn't notice. She wasn't distracted when he finally found his boxers hanging from the banister outside the room, or when he pulled on his sweater, or when he took one last look at her and shut the door.

He finally reached his-he still found it hard to think of it that way-house. It was everything you'd expect from a house built by a man who was one step away from being a mad scientist. It was painted a deep, midnight blue-almost black. It had gables. It had a honest-to-god gargoyle, which his grandfather had claimed was rescued from a French cathedral due to be destroyed by the Nazis. Josh remembered his grandfather telling him the story when he turned eighteen.

"Josh," he had begun. "I haven't told you about this until now because, well, it's not a story for kids. And it's one of those things I have to tell you about now that you're a man, and a Lowell.

"...and she's lying there, naked, saying, 'Don't you want me?' and I say, 'Listen, cheri. I've been at war for three years now. If you have a cunt, I want you.' " Fucking Robert. Couldn't keep his mouth shut for five minutes, even in enemy territory.

Rick convulsed in laughter. "You didn't say that."

"Swear to god. She loved it too."

"You are a real sonuvabitch, you know that?" Rick cracked up again.

James had had enough. "You want to shut up? There should be Germans somewhere around here...it is still their territory. Where are Paul and Chuck and Skip?"

"Paul and Chuck were about a minute behind us...and there they are, see?" Robert pointed at the ridge behind them, where two figures gradually rose from the horizon. "And Skip was in front of us. You haven't seen him?"

"Fuck, no. Where the fuck is he?" Then he heard the shouts.

"SARGE! SARGE!" It was coming from the bottom of the hill, from the woods. Skip?

"Sarge! You gotta come see this, sir!" Skip saluted. Even on an unofficial detour like this, when they were only after a couple of bottles of untouched wine, he acted like he was under inspection.

James sighed. "At ease, private. What do I have to see?"

"Sir! It's a town, sir! Not on any of the maps, sir! Appears to be deserted, and wired with explosives, sir!"

"Town, I don't see any town in the forest."

"Sir! There is a valley in the forest, sir! You cannot see it from here, sir!"

"Ok, private, ok. We'll check it out. Probably what all the signs have been referring to. It's only July 12, though-I wonder why it's wired."

"Sir! I don't know, sir!"

"Skip, you've known me since we were ten. All six of us grew up together. Why the fuck do you act like I'm fucking Ike when it's only us around?"

"Sir! If I do that it makes it much harder to salute and say 'sir' around others, sir! It's easier if I'm like this all the time, sir!"

James snorted. "Ok, Skip. Good work out there." He motioned Paul, Chuck, Robert and Rick over to him. "Ok guys, Skip found us an abandoned town down in the forest over there. Might be an abandoned wine cellar or two, so let's check it out. It's wired for explosives, though, so be careful and DON'T TOUCH ANY WIRES."

"Right."

"Okay."

"No problem."

"Sounds good."

"Sir! Yes sir!"

They trotted down the hill and into the forest. Five minutes later they reached a cobblestone path, and five minutes after that they were in the center of the formerly bustling town of St. Roche de la Ciel. James was a little rusty on his French, but this was definitely an odd name for a town-and a saint. Adding to the weirdness was a gigantic High Gothic cathedral that dominated the center of town. He didn't care how deep this valley was, a behemoth like that should have been visible from the ridge.

"Split up, guys, and check out the houses. I'll take a look in the cathedral."

He jogged up the worn stone steps and up the magnificent bronze doors. Horizontal lines were carved about every foot or so and in between a curious story was related. It looked like a man and a woman figure were in a lush forest when a giant rock came from the sky and crashed in front of them. They worshipped the rock as a gift from God and installed in on a natural rock formation that appeared to be some kind of altar. It then showed the couple stealing children from nearby farmers and raising them, driving away the other locals. A small settlement grew around the altar, provided for by the rock. The door's story stopped with the destruction of a small band of soldiers by some mystical force coming from the rock. "Crazy French," he muttered to himself. "No wonder they can't fight the Nazis."

He pushed open the doors, which opened without protest. It was as if he was expected. This, along with the cool, damp air inside the building, gave him the creeps. He pushed the safety off on his rifle and ran through the narthex, into the nave of the cathedral. Pews stretched down either side of him, and gigantic stone pillars were placed along the outside of the room. Through the dim light filtering in through the windows, he saw a giant stone altar-the one from the doors?-ahead. He jogged down the main aisleway. Not only was it the altar from the story, the rock was also there. It was smaller than pictured, only about the size of a man's head. He gingerly reached for it, then pulled back.

"Fuck, James, you pussy! Pick the damn thing up! Could use it against the Nazis!" This time, there was no hesitation. He grabbed it and lifted it easily. Odd. As he knew from his family's farm, a rock this size should weigh a fair amount, but it felt almost weightless. He tucked it under his arm and jogged out of the cathedral, and found his five companions at the foot of the steps, gathered around something.

"What is it, guys?"

"Sir! This...gargoyle. It fell right towards us, sir! Like it was guided or something, sir!"

"At ease, Skip. Anyone hurt?"

"Sir, no sir! Lucky I was looking up, sir!"

"Guess so. Here, let me see it." He pushed Rick out of the way and inspected the figure. It was totally unharmed by the fall. "Guys, we have to take this."

"What? Why the fuck do we need to take this? It probably weighs a couple hundred pounds! And what the fuck is that under your arm?"

"Shut up, Robert! We're taking it. That's an order!"

"What about the wine?"

"What, Rick? You guys didn't find any?"

"No. Town's dry as a bone."

"Well, I've found something better here."

"What, a fucking rock?"

"Yes, Robert. A fucking rock. But according to these big doors behind me, it can do some pretty crazy shit."

"Oh, so we take our fucking mission briefings from doors now? That's rich."

"You will shut up NOW, PRIVATE."

"No! Why should I? You've gone nuts!"

At that moment, James wished for nothing else in the world, not even peace, more than he wanted Robert to shut up and take his order.

"But what happens next?"

"That's a story that will have to wait, Joshy. Suffice to say, he took the order, and we got home safe, and we started a company together."

He had never gotten the end of the story, and now Gramps was gone. Josh felt moisture gathering in his eyes. Fuck! He was done grieving. Still, he missed his grandfather. He was quirky, true, and had kept a gigantic secret from him his whole life, but still...he was a great man. Standing in front of the door to his grandfather's-to his-house, Josh found himself wishing that he could talk to Gramps again. His necklace began to flash.

"Oh, sh-" A maelstrom of energy engulfed him.

Speaking of companionship, it had been a week and a half...

He walked back to his office, twirling the bracelet with his finger. Who would he pick? There was Meredith, an attractive redhead of about forty. Big tits, but a little fat. Hmm...Rosie? Thirtysomething blonde, small tits, great legs, nice figure. No...she had been last time. Ah, he knew.

"Linda?" he announced over the intercom. "Linda Cartas? Please come to my office."

Cartas, in the week she had been at the agency, had been the female equivalent of the Christmas holiday: when she was present, no work got done and the closer she got to you, the less you did. She was of El Salvadoran descent and, in the men of the agency's opinion, its finest export. She had caramel-colored skin, deep brown eyes, perfect breasts that she always drew attention to with a hanging cross necklace, precisely placed in her cleavage and, her most distinctive quality, lips that would make Angelina Jolie jealous. Though she was perfectly qualified-she wouldn't have lasted a week if she hadn't been-Thompson had been considering firing her. She was just too much of distraction. But first, he had to try her for himself.

She paused at Thompson's door, gathered herself, took a deep breath, and entered.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ah, Ms. Cartas. Thank you for your promptness. I've been watching you very closely this past week. As you no doubt know by now, we here at the agency value talent and its manifestation, excellence, above all"

"Yes, sir." This was straight from the training video. Why had he called her in? Why was he rubbing his wrist so much? Was that some kind of bracelet? What was he doing? Why...was...he...looking...at...h...e...r..........................

Thompson never got tired of that expression on the women's faces, as they realized that they were being controlled, that the devices in the agency were not designed to pick up psychic waves within the building itself, that they were at his mercy. Then, as that expression of horror, disgust and outrage turned into cowlike acceptance.

"Ah, Ms. Cartas, yes. I have been watching you very closely. You like that, don't you."

"No." The word came out in a flat monotone. Thompson grinned. He loved this.

"What do you like, Ms. Cartas?"

"My boyfriend Richie."

"Really? Do you have sex with this Richie?"

"Yes. It's wrong but I love it."

"Ok. Ms. Cartas-can I call you Linda?"

"No."

"Ms. Cartas. I want you to picture in your mind how you feel when you are about to climax with Richie. Not when you are climaxing, but just before." She began to twist her right leg back and forth and closed her eyes. "I see you have it. Now, when I say your first name, you will feel a release, like you feel when Richie makes you orgasm."

"Ok."

"Linda."

"OHHH GOD!!! YES! YES!" She tossed her head back and stamped her foot on the ground again and again. Linda was racked by her orgasm; her body quivered.

"Now, may I call you Linda?" She started to shout again, and quiver, and bite her lip. Gradually, the orgasm subsided.

"Yes."

"Very good, Linda." This time she fell on the floor, rolling, screaming in the intensity of the feelings coursing through her, pinching her breasts through her green shirt. "Now stand up." Eventually, she did.

"You like it when I say your name, don't you."

"Yes."

"You must like it when I speak to you, then. Careful, now. The right answer and I will give you a reward."

She hesitated for a moment, as though thinking it out. "...Yes."

"Very good, Linda!" He clapped his hands in approval as she fell down on the ground again, thrashing back and forth with pleasure. When she was done, he spoke again. "Why don't you sit in a chair. You might get hurt falling like that."

"Yes."

"Now, where were we? Ah. You like it when I speak to you. So, you must like it when I look at you, correct?"

This time, he didn't even need to remind her. She was quick. "Yes!"

"That's very flattering to hear, Linda!" He waited for her to finish. "So, if you like it when I talk to you, and when I look at you, you must be very attracted to me."

"Yes."

"You must want to have sex with me very much."

"Yes."

"You must want to take off my pants right now and suck my cock."

"No." Damn! He had moved too fast.

"Let me put this another way. Picture again how you feel right before you are about to cum. Now, every time you say 'No' to one of my little questions, that you will feel like that, and that feeling will not go away until you say 'Yes'. Ok?"

"Yes."

"Now, you must want to suck my cock right now."

"No...unnnhh......ooooh....ahhhhh." Thompson leaned back. He could wait a few minutes. Cartas surprised him. She lasted ten before: "Oh, Mr. Thompson, please make this go away. Let me cum."

"All you have to do is say 'Yes' when I ask you: you must want to suck my cock now, right?"

"........Yes." And she did want to, very much. And then she came.

"Ok, take off your clothes, quickly now," he said once she was done. Linda stripped quickly, exposing perfect brown breasts-capped by very large, very hard brown nipples-and a shaved pussy. "Now come here and suck me off."

She ran over to his desk, and leaned over, letting her magnificent tits hang down. She quickly undid his pants and pulled down his underwear, then took him into her mouth, all the way. He could feel the back of her throat against the tip of his cock as she applied a massive amount of suction against him. She bobbed up and down slowly, her thick red lips formed in a perfect O. She let him out of her mouth and kissed her way down his shaft, then moved back up and bathed his tip with her tongue. She was incredible. Thompson had planned to just stop after the blow job, but if she could do that with just her mouth...

"Now stop." She did, grudgingly. "Sit on it." She obeyed him, straddling his cock and then pushing it inside her as far as it would go. As she started bouncing up and down, her breasts jiggling in front of his face, he couldn't resist adding: "After five minutes of this, you will have an orgasm, and it will be ten times as powerful as it was with Richie. Do you understand?"

"YES! YES!" She pushed up and down with her tanned, muscular legs, repeatedly filling herself to bursting with Mr. Thompson's thick cock. It gave her so much more than Richie's. Thompson pulled her body towards him, and buried his face in her stupendous breasts, licking, biting, caressing them as much as he could. The texture, the warmth he felt inside of her was like no other woman, it stimulated every inch of his cock. After five minutes, she had the best orgasm of her life. Ten seconds later, so did he. Their screams of pleasure filled the office with rich sexual harmony.

After ten minutes of sitting in his chair, pressed against Linda's breasts, Roger had had enough.

"Linda. Stand up, get dressed, and walk out of the office. The sound of the door closing behind you will erase everything that has taken place since you walked in here from your memory. Instead you will remember being praised by me for your work ethic."

After she was finally gone, he leaned back, drained. He had thirty seconds of peace before his assistant ran into the office.

"Sir!" he breathed, gasping for air.

"What is it?"

"Sir, a 7.0 on the Yurometer. From New Hampshire."

"What?"

"Yes sir. We checked the records. The only type of activity that can rate a 7.0 is..."

"I know. Crossing. Things just keep getting better and better, don't they? Prepare my jet. I'm going myself."

"Yes sir!"

"Joshy, wake up! For God's sake. You've got to wake up! We don't have much time!"

"Who-"

"It's Gramps. You're still living! How did you cross over into hell like th-" He saw the necklace, still glowing faintly.

"Oh, shit."

After a brief wait for the water to warm, she sat in the shower, pulling the phone-shaped head toward her. She adjusted the setting until the water slapped her skin, making a noise that had become familiar to her. She put it over her pussy and tilted her head back, opening her mouth, catching the water that sprayed off her slit, tasting her flavor in every drop. It felt so good. The cold air that blew against her skin made a delicious contrast between what was going on below and above. Wait a minute--cold air? Frowning, she sat up and pulled the curtain back.

An open window was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

Davis gingerly pushed himself up. So, Caldwell needed a shower without him, eh? He padded over to the door and paused, gathered himself, and burst in.

"Surpri--"

The word still hung in the air as death took him.

"Ooooooh, Christ, what a chair."

"I'm sorry chief. Am I interrupting something?" Bradley Whitcomb: the newest member on the force, the first recruit they'd had in ten years. He was the kind of man who found a shaving-cream pie shoved in someone's face irresistably funny, and would stop at nothing to deliver said pie. This comment was actually witty for Bradley.

"Fuck off, Bradley." He grinned. "What is it?"

"Sir, sorry to bother you, but..."

Bradley looked serious. This was a first.

"What is it? Come on, out with it?"

"Sir, it's the B n' B. There's been...something horrible..." He rushed over to Blair's trash can, emptied out the paper, and puked what had to be several days' worth of food into it. Blair was speechless. He couldn't imagine what could do this to a kid like Bradley, who could put a cow's heart in one of the officers' mailboxes.

"Which B n' B?"

"Unngh...Doosty Inn...Urk..." Bradley turned back to the can as Woodsley rushed from the office.

Ten minutes later he pulled up next to the Doosty Inn, established 1952. The sole remaining landmark of what once was a fairly steady tourist business, the inn had escaped the economic trials and tribulations of the past fifty years with low prices, the best flapjacks in town and a small but thriving drug trafficking business. Their donations to the local police force had paid for his chair. It wouldn't do to have too sensational a case happen at the Doosty Inn; what if the FBI stepped in? Oh, Christ.

A whole train wreck of events paraded in front of his eyes. The meth lab, the small marijuana farm in the backyard: discovered; his department: investigated; Blair: in prison, being fucked in the ass by some 8-foot tall man who was in prison for triple homicide. His wife would divorce him, and probably shack up with Bradley. That clown would fucking shove shaving cream pies up her cunt! The well of emotion and frustration boiled up within Woodsley until he exploded.

"FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He slammed the steering wheel repeatedly, as if trying to hammer it into the engine. After several minutes, he put himself together and stepped out of the car. Good. No one had noticed his little...episode.

"What room?" That was all he needed to say to the man in the lobby.

"206."

Woodsley was immediately struck by the lingering presence of sex as he stepped into the small but tasteful bedroom. The bed had certainly been well used and clothing was flung about, but what really alerted him was the smell. He hadn't smelled a bedroom like that since his honeymoon--that is, until yesterday, when both he and his wife had both rushed home from work at about midday and fucked each other silly. Odd, now that he came to think about it, that both of them would feel that itch.

A voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts: "I think you should look in the bathroom, Officer." That would be Mr. Dootsy the Younger. He was responsible for the recent diversification of the bed and breakfast into the world of drug smuggling. And, Woodsley reminded himself, the chair, the vacation to Cape Cod and the box of Cubans that were his current mistress. Dootsy was of the school that believed crime should be a way of life as well as a job. Since he had started dealing, he had purchased several black suits and a rackful of beautiful silk ties and had grown a small mustache. The mustache did not flatter him; his long, pointy nose and small eyes made him look like a weasel impersonating an actor impersonating a gangster. Still, he did pay for the chair...

"Ok."

Fifteen seconds later he was puking his guts out into the small hotel trash can. Christ! He had never seen anything like it before in his life. The remains of two naked people, strewn about the small bathroom, each part gnawed as if by some beast. Their eyes stared out from their heads; their mouths were fixed in soundless screams. And on the floor of the bathroom, paw prints, shaped like a dog's, but far too big...

"Tell me you didn't."

"What?"

"Tell me you didn't use the necklace to come here."

"Uh..."

"Gaahhhh! You............" His grandfather compressed his lips tightly and inhaled deeply, trying to control himself.

"What?"

"Do you have ANY IDEA what you're doing? I mean...FUCK!"

Josh flinched. His grandfather had never scolded him before by swearing at him. This was a whole new world of pissed off.

"Look, Gramps. I really don't have any idea what I'm doing. You know why? Because YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ANYTHING."

"Well, I didn't think you'd be fooling around with the necklace now. It's not even supposed to work until it's been worn for twenty years."

"Why?"

"It has to adapt to your brain patterns. Look, we really don't have time for this. You need to get back to the living. Just crossing over may have...well...if I were you, I'd see if anything strange has happened. Where are you living now, by the way?"

"I'm still in your house, Gramps."

"Hmm...I left some stuff down in the basement. Check the secret drawer in the desk, third drawer down on the left. Take the pen out of the holder on the desk then pull the drawer all the way out."

"Thanks. Gramps......why are you here?"

"Read the files, Josh."

"Gramps..."

"Go. Staying here is only making things worse."

Josh wound a finger around the necklace and wished he were back in front of his grandfather's house. A whirl of wind, sound, light, and electricity surrounded him. Now he knew how a bug felt being flushed down the toilet. WHOOOSH.

The doorbell rang. "Fuck!" she thought to herself. She had completely forgotten that she had scheduled the phone company to send a man over to install a second line for her house. She couldn't get out of bed--she would have to stop touching herself; make those wonderful feelings inside go away. Or...would she?

She went down the stairs as gracefully as she could with one hand firmly wedged inside her pussy, feeling out every last nook and cranny inside--even the ones whats-his-name couldn't reach. So it was with her left hand that she opened the door, and her left that she pulled Carl the phone guy into her house. He was one of the guys who had gawked at her since middle school; he certainly didn't need a second invitation. The unspoken pact he had made with the other men of the town not to date her went out the window in a second.

"Carl..."

He was feverishly unbuttoning his pants. "What, Kate?"

"Carry me up to the bedroom."

"Whatever you say, Kate." He laughed nervously.

As he finished taking off his clothes, Carl took stock for a moment: Kate, the women of his (and everyone's) dreams stood in front of him, nude, glistening with sweat, her brown hair falling messily on her shoulders, her green eyes underlined with dark patches, but still feverish with desire, her large breasts, jutting out toward him, begging for his touch, her small patch of brown hair between her legs, her long bronzed legs. As he ran his eyes down her body, drinking her in, she stared at his cock, licking her lips in anticipation. Yeah. This was it.

He picked her up in one quick motion and walked up the steps. Freed from obligations to move, or stand, Kate began stroking her pussy again. Carl laid her down on the bed softly, then jumped on top of her. Afraid that this was a dream, or a vision, and that if he delayed too long she would vanish or change her mind, he immediately slammed his cock into her. She was definitely not a virgin anymore; he slid easily inside her.

Kate was in ecstasy. This cock was bigger than the one before. It strained her boundaries even more than they already had been. This was sex. And yet...was this all? It was better than before, yes, but was this as good as it got? She had to know.

Carl had only been pounding her for about a minute yet he already felt like he was about to cum. He had simply waited too long for this day, fantasized too much. He was in a trance, focused solely on the sensations coming from his cock. Until...

"Carl?"

He stopped abruptly and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "What?"

"Is there anything better to sex than this?"

Oh, so she was kinky? He wasn't good enough? Well, he had a few tricks. "Ok, Kate, do what I say."

"Ok."

"Say, 'Yes sir!'"

"Yes sir!" Kate was already getting in the mood, putting real excitement into her reply.

"Spread your legs as wide as you can, Kate."

"Yes, sir!" She stretched her legs as wide as they could go, exposing her engorged cunt to him.

"Now tilt back as far as you can so your legs are pointing toward the back wall."

"Yes, sir!" Now her tiny asshole was exposed as well. He slammed himself back into her cunt at this new angle, and she gasped in response. After several pistoning strokes in and out of her, he rubbed his finger against her sopping wet slit, moistening it. Then, after plunging himself as far into her as he could, he penetrated her ass with his finger. He was rewarded with a long, low moan. He began thrusting into her again with vigor. As he continued, his first finger was joined by a second, and, finally a third.

The feeling of being totally filled was almost there for Kate. She recieved countless pulses of pleasure from the ultrasensitive inner walls of her pussy and, now, her ass. The pulses seemed to run together, maginifying each other. They moved easily up and down her body, as if she were a spring or rope in her high school physics class. They intensified and intensified until it seemed her body was one large pulse, vibrating up and down. She felt warm rushes of cum spurt inside of her as Carl let himself go. As he stopped his thrusting, the pulses gradually decreased in speed and size, until finally she was a limp rope again. That had been...nice...but she didn't feel that moment of blessed release, when ordered pleasure dissolved into chaos. But she liked what he had done with her ass.

"Carl?"

"What?"

"Do you know someone who could put their cock in my ass?" Carl recoiled, shocked by her boldness.

"Damn, Kate."

"What?"

"Just...I never thought of you saying things like that. Yeah. I got a friend. Where's the phone?"

She pointed and he dialed the number. "Steve? Yeah, it's Carl. Dude, you are not going to believe this..."

After finally opening the drawer, he was greeted with a worn manila folder, stuffed full of yellowing documents. His grandfather had scrawled the word "MANACHLORITE" across the front. He sat back in his grandfather's old black leather recliner and perused the documents.

The file started with a bunch of memos, which he quickly leafed through, noting only the headings. "Meteorite Containment Practices," "Chemical Analysis," "Manachlorite's Effects on Animals," "Security Leak Precautions" "BBQ Celebrating Privatization, Sunday."

Here was a handwritten note from his grandfather.

"Josh, if you are reading this, then my lawyer, as instructed, has told you how to access the drawer. Happy 44th birthday! You may have noticed strange things happening as of late. This is not an accident--it is a direct result of the necklace I gave to you. The necklace is made of a substance, manachlorite, which adapts to a person's brain waves and can turn visualization into reality. There's not much I know for sure, but the following, at least, is true. Do NOT use this necklace frivolously. It will attract the government's attention and can alter the personalities and behaviors of others. Do NOT overuse it. The more you use it, the more powerful it gets and the more attuned it becomes to your wishes, to the point where even a passing fancy becomes reality. This happened to my friends and co-researchers--don't let it happen to you. Good luck, Josh."

"What the hell did I do? Oh, God!"

He tucked the file under his arm and sprinted out of the house. He had to talk to Kate. He had to fix things. He had to.

"Yeah, you like that? You like that?" Steve was a talker.

"Ooooohhhh yeah. Don't...ahhh...."

"That's right. You take it. You take it like a slut." He started slapping her ass with his hand, adding yet another sound to the cacaphony. She was screaming now, Carl was grunting, his cock was making wet sucking sounds as it thrust in and out. Steve was yelling, spanking her, driven wild by the sound of his balls slapping her ass as he pushed himself in. This time, she found her release, embraced the chaos, could let herself plunge into the feelings washing over her body, cleansing her. Her fingers raked Carl's chest as both he and Steve exploded into her.

Then the dog started barking downstairs. A shower of broken glass crashed onto the floor of the hall outside her room, and she heard a soft thump, then a snarl.

Roger Thompson, Executive Director of the Bureau of Abnormal Management, toyed with the unfamiliar bracelet on his hand as his private jet began its descent into Manchester Airport, New Hampshire. He had realized that he had forgotten to place it back in the seized equipment room before he left. If there were to be any day his...indiscretions...were to be discovered, today would certainly be the best--bigger fish to fry didn't even come close to describing the situation. According the Yurometers at the bureau, someone had successfully crossed over to the world of the dead and back. At first Thompson had simply been concerned about someone making a power grab, like the five scientists had done back in the 70's. Robert, Richard, Paul, Charles, and "Skip"--no one in his line of work needed to refer to their last names.

He could picture the devices they had used as they were now--sitting in a case made predominantly of plexiglass (but reinforced with titanium bars) in the center of the seized equipment room. Such innocent looking devices, each a piece of jewelry. A ring, a bracelet, an earring, an armband, and a watch, each made of that curious red metal. Despite numerous tests, no one had ever been able to figure out how they worked--for any that tried (including Roger) they were just gaudy pieces of jewelry. The scientists weren't talking; though the loss of possible information was regrettable, Roger had had to have them killed. They hadn't gone down easily though--"Skip," the most dangerous of them all, had killed so many would-be assassins that Roger had had to order a missile strike carried out.

The scientists haunted him. They had been so weak to begin with; so easy to stop. The Yurometers at the Bureau had registered the abnormal surges of power; when agents came back reporting nothing out of the ordinary, he had simply dismissed it as a glitch. The Yurometer kept insisting on psychic activity, though, and the disruptions gradually increased in force until it became clear that the agents had, in fact, been misled--or brainwashed. Had he only realized what was going on at the beginning--no! Might-have-beens did him no good! He wondered, though, what had gone on; how the Five--so law-abiding their whole lives--service with distinction in World War Two--had gone so wrong.

The bracelet began rotating of its own accord. "Holy shit!" Roger tried to pull the bracelet off of his wrist but it was moving too fast now--it was a blur around his wrist. The jet around him vanished suddenly--he was floating in midair--then it was back, and he was in his leather seat again--then it was gone--then the world went dark.

When Roger opened his eyes again, he was in a small laboratory, staring at the backs of six men in white lab coats who were speaking gibberish to each other. Glass beakers lined the black countertop that ringed the room, and a wall calendar prominently displaying Marilyn Monroe and the words "MARCH 1954" hung on a wall next to a rusty pair of green doors. Through round windows on the door Roger could see an empty hallway that stretched on for what seemed like forever.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" No one paid any attention. "Hey! Assholes! I asked what was going on?" Still no response. "HEY!" He walked toward the shortest one, and laid his hand on the man's shoulder--and watched the hand sink right through and emerge from the small of his back. What was this? An illusion? A movie? He stepped back and tried to pay attention to what was going on in front of him.

"Blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah!"

"Blah blah blah, blah BLAH blah blah." The group chuckled.

"Blah, blah blah blah blah. Blah?"

"Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah easily moldable. We could make it into anything we want."

"We don't know anything about metal-working though."

"I know, but we could learn. I don't want to give this to someone else to handle, do you guys? This is our secret, right?"

"I guess so, Skip." Jesus. The bracelet had...oh dear God.

"Well, lets put it back in its place. Lunch is almost over."

"I'm so tired of this job. Why couldn't just one of us work here and let the others in to examine it?"

"Christ, Rick. Do we have to argue about this every fucking day? This is a helluva lot less suspicious than five total strangers trooping down a restricted area at night."

"Sorry, Skip."

Skip turned and walked directly at Roger, holding a red rock in his hands, about the size of a man's head. Skip was a different man than the one he had become familiar with over the several years of conflict. What Roger was confronted with was a clean-shaven young man, probably in his early thirties, still with rounded cheeks and a ruddy complexion. Still, there was something about him--there was anger there behind his eyes, yes, and impatience.

Skip placed the rock under a loose tile in the floor and rejoined the group. Laughing at some private joke, the six walked out of the room, and everything blurred. The pages of the wall calendar turned three times until a particularly sexy picture of Monroe lying on a bearskin rug announced that it was June. The six men were back. He recognized all of them except for one man with piercing blue eyes and a brown beard touched by stray hairs of grey. Once again Skip removed the rock from the floor and placed it on a table. He took a hammer and chisel, breathed deeply, and smashed the rock in half. A pulsing red stone lay inside, smooth and unweathered, while the pocked and worn red rock lay shattered around the table. Skip picked up the stone and sighed.

"Well, it's lucky that we didn't melt down the rock yet for molding. You were right, James." The last sentence sounded like it was extracted from him by a dentist.

"Oh, hey, Skip. Just a lucky guess. We can do your plan now, though." Was James an idiot? The worst way to appease someone who was envious of success was to play it off like it didn't matter--it just made the other person feel stupid for caring so much, and all the more resentful of the seeming nonchalance.

Skip grabbed the rock and slid it into his pocket. The six turned and walked out. The pages turned again until Monroe, standing nude next to a black and white fire, announced "DECEMBER". The men walked in again, each wearing the jewelry. And the man he didn't know wore a red necklace--there was still a piece of that rock on the loose. Shouting distracted him from his thoughts.

"IT'S NOT RIGHT, SKIP!"

"You shut the fuck up James. You shut up NOW. We VOTED. The security guard has to be silenced. Everything we've worked for could be DESTROYED. Because you have a FUCKING CONSCIENCE ATTACK?" Skip was in James's face, screaming at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Fuck you, Skip. I'm out."

"You can't just WALK OUT, JAMES. You could give us all away. What, you think the government is just gonna let us get away with these private experiments?"

"What are you going to do, Skip? Kill me? Like that security guard? What the fuck IS WRONG WITH YOU?" James turned and walked out of the room. Skip reached into his pocket, but one of the other men restrained him.

"GET OFF ME, RICK. STOP BEING A FUCKING PUSSY!"

"No, Skip. Let him go. He won't rat on us. Now, c'mon. There's still five of us. Let's do what we gotta do."

The scene vanished, and Roger was back on the jet. He glanced outside his window. The plane was still in the air. Apparently time had stopped here while he'd been in the past. This bracelet was more powerful than he'd thought--more powerful certainly than the original owner had known.

As the plane touched down on the private airstrip outside the small town, Roger was lost in his thoughts. He had a chance now to make up for what he'd failed at in the 70's. Fuck this up, and his life had meant nothing.

Steve clawed for the handle as he stumbled toward the hallway. The creature sniffed the air twice, then bounded towards him. It was truly a monstrosity--it was the size of horse, with a gigantic, barrel-shaped torso and thick long legs capped by frying-pan sized paws with three giant claws at the end of each. It had the face of a dog, but with teeth Kate had only seen in Jurassic Park. And it's eyes...they glowed blue with unholy fire. The door closed just as it sprang. CRASH. The door shuddered on its frame. Steve exhaled loudly.

"Holy shit Kate, what was tha-" The door burst off its hinges and crushed Steve underneath the weight of the gigantic dog. Carl ran for the window, but was caught in mid-stride. The beast bore Carl down underneath him. From the bed Kate heard the snap of bone and low snarling. "No more fuck," Kate thought, and whimpered. She needed a cock inside her. Now!

Whimpering was a mistake. The beast, distracted from its feeding, lifted its head in the air, a bloody piece of flesh still in its jaws. Its eyes burned with renewed fire as it saw Kate on the bed. With a roar, it sprang at her.

Finally the house appeared on his right. The tree, the white paint, the--shattered second story window? Josh tore through the front yard, slammed the door open and pounded up the stairs. Glass shards crunched under his feet until he stopped, frozen. A bloody corpse lay on the floor in front of the bed. A hideous monster crouched on the bed, eating something. His higher brain, before it ceased to work altogether, made one coherent thought--"Kate. Dead"--then switched onto automatic pilot. He wished to kill this thing, this thing that had robbed him of Kate, the kindest woman he had ever known, the woman he had fucked up, tainted, and finally exposed to this hideous creature alone. He didn't wish for it to be dead, or go back to wherever it came from--he wished to kill it.

And so it was that he found himself alone against a giant hellhound, a silver longsword gripped in his hands. The sword flashed with red fire, and the energy sprang from it to the creature on the bed. It howled in anguish, and turned. Its taste for blood was not yet sated. Nothing it had encountered yet in this pathetic world had even put up a fight. This would be a worthy challenge. The creature bared its teeth at Josh, then hopped onto the floor and padded softly towards him. Josh held the sword in front of him, backing away slowly. There was a room behind him, a larger one, where he could take a full swing. As he reached the doorframe, everything slowed down. Four things happpened together: the beast jumped toward him, its fangs bared; the back of his foot hit the raised section of carpet in the room behind him; his balance shifted to compensate, then failed miserably; and he began to fall backwards.

The beast sailed over his head as the sword, its handle still gripped tightly in his right hand, swung up in the air as he flailed to regain his balance. The tip of the sword flashed, and the flaming silver parted the creature's belly easily, dumping blue flame all over Josh. An otherworldly howl emanated from the beast as it slammed into the back wall of the room behind, quivered, and slumped motionless to the ground.

Josh's face felt as if it were on fire.

It was.

He ripped part of his shirt off and desperately pounded his face with the fabric, hoping to smother the flame. After an eternity of agony the smoke stopped, and his face became cool. Odd. Touching an iron or a frying pan had never felt like this. He staggered to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. An unmarked face greeted him. Except the eyes. His eyes were blue--not brown. What the fuck had it done to him? A moan from the other room reminded him of what had gone on. "Kate."

The figure on the ground was moaning. It wasn't Kate--it was a naked man. Worthless. A lifeless hand stretched out from under the door--another naked man lay underneath. What the fuck had Kate done? Where was she? Then he saw the bed. Kate--it was she. No doubt about it--what was left of her, anyway. She was dead. He had known it from the second he had seen that creature--he still felt like he was strapped down in front of a pitching machine been turned all the way up and directed at him. The grief and pain inside battered him again and again, and just when he felt it begin to slow, he remembered something she'd said, or the way she'd tilted her head back when she smiled. This room was suffused with his brief memories of her. He staggered to the bed, turned, and wept into his hands.

No. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. There had to be something he could do. He could bring her back. Yes. Back. He had to. It was his fault. He had to make it right. He had the power. He could do anything with the necklace.

As the necklace began to pulsate, flashing an intense red glow over the inside of the room, Josh's eyes glowed with a fire that would have matched the hellhound's.

It was as if everything bad that had ever happened to him, everything that had caused him pain, had gathered together and assaulted him. Deaths of relatives, break-ups, his failures as a leader, he was taunted, attacked, left broken and battered.

"Roger, you all right?" That sweet voice, with just a hint of a Spanish accent, cutting through the pain. His eyes cracked open.

"You...didn't feel that?"

"Feel what, Roger?" Odd, that flash of disappointment every time she said his name--ah yes. The hypnosis. Linda had been his most successful ever--deep down, she had wanted to be dominated by a powerful man. But why hadn't she felt that primal force?

"Let me check you to make sure you're all right." With expert hands she prodded his feet, his legs, lingered on his groin, then moved to his hands. "Everything...apppppppeaaarrrssss......o.............."

Roger sat up, shaking his head to remove the lingering voices. His bracelet was rotating around his wrist at an impossible speed. It must have been--he had to get it off! He was about to lose a finger when he realized that he had to make it stop first. But it had always been so powerful...except for just after he had used it to seduce an underling. Then it seemed relatively harmless. Well, it was worth a shot.

"Linda?"

"Yessssssss?"

"You want to have sex with me now, don't you?"

"Heeerre? Innnn thaaaaaa opppppennnnn?"

"Yes. You have no doubts. You have no taboos about that kind of thing, do you Linda? That only detracts from your pleasure."

"Yesssss....thattttt woulddddd beeeee niiice..."

"Ok, then, snap out of it. One, two, three."

"Wha--oh Roger! Let's make love! Right here."

He lay back on the ground as she unhooked the button on his pants and slid them down. She crouched above him, her short black skirt pulled up around her waist, her red shirt heaving. She wasn't wearing panties. Good. Dry pine needles crackled on the ground as she shifted her feet to balance herself. Satisfied with her position, she guided his cock into her. Somehow she was already sopping wet. God, it felt good to be inside her again. He felt like a kid with a brand-new toy. As she rocked up and down on him, she brushed her hair out of her face with her left hand, her face contorted with pleasure. He saw her pussy envelope him, then let him go, then take him in again. Then Roger did something he hadn't done in many years of sex with his employees--he took over. He wrapped around Linda's body, pulling her close to him, then took one hand off of her to push himself up. In one motion he rose up, then slowly lowered himself down. All he saw was Linda's beautiful caramel-colored face underneath him, her soft brown eyes, her huge lashes, her eyes...

He took it slow--somehow it just felt right. The sun poured its soft light onto the back of his neck, suffusing him with warmth. The loneliness of fifteen minutes ago was gone; the feeling inside now was something new. His hands slowly unbuttoned her blouse, freeing the gorgeous breasts inside. He could see their soft brown curves rise in perfect circles. He ran a fingernail between them, down to her belly button, then ran a fingernail up her breast to her nipple as he ran another down, meeting at that beautiful dark circle. He watched her face intently as he pushed in and out of her. Now she was biting her lip, now she was squinting her eyes, now she was pushing her hair back, now she was concentrating intensely, now, now, now, now, now now now nownownownow she opened her eyes and screamed with pleasure as he came inside her, as his mind cleared of all thoughts, and became an empty vessel. Sex with Linda was the ultimate meditation.

Utter contentment replaced whatever had been there before as he pulled out of her and rolled off. He stared at the azure sky and wondered how he'd never managed to come here.

"Roger, what's this?"

"What?"

"This bracelet. I've never seen it before."

The bracelet! He had to remove it. He fumbled for the catch as he jumped to his feet. He had forgotten everything. Everything! Because of that woman! He started to scowl at her before he got lost in her beautiful, but confused, face.

"Nothing, Linda. Don't worry about it. Come on! We have to MOVE!"

"What's the latest report?"

"Same. He's just standing over her. His necklace is flashing with increased speed, though. Something's going to happen soon."

"We've got to hit him now! There's no time to waste. Four teams of five, move in directly onto the second floor from all sides. Vanguard formation, no sound. We must take him by surprise."

"Sir!" they responded in unison. As one they rushed off, separating into teams as they went. They'd done this before. Commander Briggs propped himself against the windowsill as he watched them from the second story window. It was a complex dance, almost, like that Baryshnikov he'd caught at the Kennedy. The intelligence, reflexes, and intense amount of training each agent possessed never failed to amaze him. They were scaling the house now. He pulled out his standard-issue binoculars to focus in on the scene in the bedroom. They'd been unable to interfere, of course--their presence was to remain secret until they'd made their move. Civilian casualties were acceptable to protect that. His earpiece crackled to life.

"Waiting on the word, sir."

"Go."

The fifteen agents he could see crashed through the windows of the house at what seemed like the same moment. The perp shouted something at the agents, then drew what looked like a gigantic sword.

"SHOOT TO KILL," Briggs said over the channel. Agents drew their guns and began firing. The madman flopped about as bullet after bullet smashed through bone and flesh. After what had to have been a hundred rounds, he fell. Agents began to high-five one another as they walked out of the room. Grabbing the necklace was a job for the boss. Now was celebration time. This had been the most dangerous perp they'd faced in years. Bonuses would be liberally given.

Then, somehow, the man rose up. Each wound glowed with blue fire instead of pouring out blood.

"WATCH OUT! HE'S BEHIND YOU!"

The agents turned as one, just in time to meet a wall of blue flame. Like that, the Agency's roster of active field personnel dropped to zero.

Josh turned and looked across the street. He could sense a man's presence there. The man's hate and fear radiated from his body. Fool. Josh focused, and the man burst into flame. Now just pain came from the house, now nothing.

The quiet residential streets passed by until he found the one he was looking for. It looked like all the others--except for the house that was burning with blue fire. A fire truck and a crowd of curious neighbors had crowded around it. He checked the address--it was the house that all the energies had been emanating from.

"Jesus, Roger, what happened here?"

Christ, Linda. He didn't want her in danger here. "Whoever has been causing all the activity up here did this. I've...never seen anything...like this. Linda...I...I don't want you getting hurt here."

"I'm an agent, just like everyone else."

"Yes...but you're different. This shouldn't be your first assignment. You need an easy one, to get you into the swing."

"I'd rather get my start here than busting some old lady for magical garden gnomes, Roger. And I want to stay with you."

"And I want you to stay with me. But..."

"Then no discussion." She put her finger on his lips, and for a second he forgot about the fire, the madman, everything.

"Ok. But we have to avoid attention here. Just go up and gossip."

Roger approached an elderly woman first. Probably desperate for human interaction.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but what happened here?"

"Oh, my, I've never seen anything like this in all my years here, the house just erupted, and this young man just came running out, all bloody, with all this blue fire all over him, and he just start running down the street like a bat out of hell. Mercy!"

What the hell happened to this guy? Blue fire? He signaled to Linda and started walking back to the car.

"Well? What did you get?"

"Someone saw this kid, about 25, come running out of the house, covered in blood and fire, and take off towards his house."

"His house? Where?"

She pointed down the street. "At the cross street over there. An old-style house. Can't miss it, they said."

A minute later they pulled up outside what had to be the house. Jesus, it was ugly. The door hung off its hinges, and fire still crackled on the front lawn. Whatever the kid was up to, it didn't involve subterfuge.

"Linda. Get your gun out. Shhh...we have to take these guys by surprise. He's human like anyone else. One bullet and..."

They went in side by side, following the trail of smoldering carpet to another door that barely clung to the wall. This one displayed a flight of stairs going down into a basement where Roger could make out a blue glow. This had to be it.

"Linda. Stay here. If I die, I want you to dial 555 on my cell phone, then tell them I'm dead. They'll take it from there. If that happens, you clear out."

"Ok, Roger." She even knew when not to question him. God, she was...

"Linda...I love you. I know I'm old, and you're young, but...if I get through..."

"Roger...go. You'll make it."

He stepped down onto the first step.

The bookshelf burst into flame, then the desk. Josh didn't notice. He had suddenly felt the wave of anxiety from upstairs. Someone was here. More agents? He would deal with them like before. And...behind him?

He whirled as Roger pointed the gun in his face. Not an agent...an older-looking man, dressed in a suit, a bit disheveled.

"Look, I won't hesitate to kill you, old man. Leave, and I don't have to."

"Doesn't work that way. What's your name, anyway?"

"Josh."

"Josh, you've come way too far now for me to just back away. You're doing things that...I've never seen before. You're a clear and present danger to the survival of the United States."

"What? I haven't done anything!"

"Well, I haven't seen my team of agents, so you must have killed twenty or so men. Each with families. Children. Parents. You've crossed the barrier, and probably let some things leak onto earth that should never have come here. Is that enough? Or should I go on."

No. NO. NO. The beast...it was because of...NO. "That's a fucking lie," he almost whispered. "You're scared because I have this...this..." He fingered the necklace. "Power."

"Damn right." The man pulled the trigger five times. Josh rocked backwards, then regained his balance.

"Oh, FUCK YOU." The man burst into blue flame. Screaming, he ran towards Josh and gripped him.

"IT'S OVER JOSH." Then he fell to his knees, then onto his face.

Christ. Another body. A frantic voice from upstairs roused him.

"...dead. Said you know what to do. Oh, CHRIST, he's gone."

A woman. Kate. Oh, god. Josh fell back into a chair, sobbing tears of blue fire. The beast...it was his fault. Him. He did it. The presence upstairs gradually faded away in his mind. He was left with his thoughts.

"At 4:15 PM, a B-52 crash-landed into a small New Hampshire town. The plane was carrying a small nuclear warhead that was inexplicably armed. The force of the impact detonated the bomb, destroying the town. Five hundred on the ground, as well as the three-person flight crew were killed. There were no survivors and, as of yet, no explanation. And now, with comment, President Bush."

Circling slowly around, the object grew into focus. It was red, shiny, and it just laid there on the ground, letting the sunlight glint off it. It would give the raven great cachet with the other survivors of the fire. Perhaps it would land a new mate.

As it gripped the necklace in its beak, the raven dreamed of what might be.