*Our shadow is always with us, thou we cannot always see it*

(Thanks to Talenwolf for ideas story ideas and Shawhollow for editing.)

(There is a great deal of violence in this tale but I promise it will make sense before we are done. The 'hero' is no Conan the Barbarian – normally. Slapping girls and woman is very abnormal but I hope understanding will come)

The rest of breakfast is sort of stand-off which we mutually break for our first course of the day . Bernadotte and I agree to touch base between each class. Actually going to class at my actual college is mind-numbingly surreal after the bizarre activity of the last eight hours.

My second class kicks me back to reality. I have one of the raven-haired twins in class with me, two chairs behind me – Coincidence?; I don't think so. Before class begins, I bolt into the hall and look for something to use as a weapon but there isn't even an umbrella to be found in the hall and the janitor's closet is locked – which is normal, damn it. I return to my classroom in despair.

Roughly half way through class the girl behind me taps my shoulder with a small note. The last time I got one of these was 5th grade. The girl taps me again.

"My religion requires a token of blood to be placed upon it before I can receive it," I blatantly lie. You would have to be an alien to buy that. The girl seems confused for thirty seconds or so then retrieves her nail clippers and cuts her finger and bleeds on the note.

I've taken the time to tear out a piece of paper from a binder so when she hands me the missive the third time I have her drop it in the folded sheet, wrap up the message most likely from the kook – says the guy taking a note on a piece of paper to avoid contact. I fold up the larger paper and put it in the back pack for Bernadette to look over at lunch. Why am I being so cautious? All I can think is that I have lost my mind like everyone else.

Dispassionate Blackie tries to slip close to me while we are exiting the class and I see her making her move to touch my hand. I pick up a school chair and slam her with it because she knows about my No Touching Rule. I am not expecting what I get. The chair hits her alright but turns into ashes; not bursts into flames but literally incinerates. I'm left with partial portions of the chair's back with glowing embers at the base.

The Black haired girl slams against the wall, smudges the chalkboard and slides down as if truly hurt. Everyone is staring and more than half the class seems confused by the presence of the witch/alien/telepath. I come across as some kind of crazed animal and she's the bizarre damsel in distress – but they all look at her funny too. They see the real her. Their power is not limitless and that realization makes me want to summersault.

More to my current situation; I see everyone staring at us – me with my charred chair pieces and her, the weird chick who has suddenly appeared among them. I take three steps over to her and extend one piece of wood her way.

"Take it and I'll help you up," I whisper. "Try and touch me and I'll gut you with the other one; are we clear." She nods slowly.

There is no deception on either of our parts and slowly the drug that everyone else is on kicks in and no one sees, or at least assigns any importance to, what had just transpired. She lets my stick go once she's standing so I go retrieve my bag and am ready to leave. She's standing where I left her.

"If you don't touch me, I'm not going to fight you right now," I relate then motion her to go ahead but she seems reluctant. "You sat behind me during class so I get to stand behind you when we leave; besides, I just told you I am not going to fight you." She nods, turns and leaves though she's nervous the entire time .

Once we are in the hallway, I speed up so that we are side by side.

"If I talk to you about stuff, are people around us going to get weirded out or are they going to ignore us?" I question.

"They don't ignore us," she suddenly speaks up, "We are weaving magics we put upon the school grounds themself to alter perception into a form more useful to us; in this case we want to be ignored right now."

"And I broke that in the classroom...because you had to defend yourself?" I theorize.

"Yes," she answers. "My name is Midnight and my sister is Twilight."

"I am Richard Vandemeyer, but you've already been told that I am of no account," I sneer.

"That was a tragic and sloppy mistake on our part," Midnight admits. "We won't make that one again."

"As long as we understand I will put down you and the rest of your minions if you come after Bernadette or me again," I tell her, "we can be okay."

"Minions will always be coming for you both as long as you shield her, Richard," Midnight threatens. "We will expend everyone on the island if that is what it takes."

"Even the ones who are your boyfriends?" I question.

"They are tools, nothing more," she answers. "Humans hold no interest for us except as extensions of our power."

"What does that make me?" I ponder.

"We don't know. Let me run my hands over your naked body and we will find out," she promises. Now I've been cautioned about this but I'm starting to think that I'm succumbing to the mental collapse affecting everyone else because I am thinking that I might know better. Also, while she's no Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, she's very physically attractive and all this violence has made me terribly horny.

"Over there," I direct her to a stone buttress that shields us from most snooping. It also leaves her mostly at my mercy if I turn hostile.

"How do I know you won't try to hurt me?" she hesitates. "Recreating this form would be time consuming." I shudder because a teeny-tiny bit of this makes sense.

"What makes you think that I won't kill you here in the open?" I remind her. It takes her a moment to nod and head into the shadows provided by the buttress and the tall, blue-tinted glass Gothic window .

When she gets there, Midnight places her back against the stone.

"Okay," she whispers. "Take my hand." She starts whispering in something akin to Bernadette's Basque with a healthy sprinkling of habanero to the eardrums just for listening to it. I'm thinking Acid or LSD or if Acid is LSD then...fuck if I know.

I grab the wrist of the hand, making sure to keep her shirt sleeve in between our flesh. She flinches slightly but is incapable of resisting my pull. I place her hand over my heart which surprises her; she thinks I've acquiesced. I step into her and I'm 1 cm from her face when she finally realizes what I am about to do. Panic fills her eyes as I plant my first kiss.

"I told you I would touch you, just not how," I say softly. Then I kiss her again; this time she is trembling like a leaf, her eyes flutter, and her breathing is coming in gulps. For almost two more minutes I rape this girl's virgin mouth with my tongue and lips. I pull away and smile.

"Well, you touched me," I inquire. "Did you learn what you wanted?"

"I – what – wait – I didn't," she mumbles. "You tricked me!"

"Yes I did," I acknowledge, "but you earned it by treating me like dirt beneath your heel since we first met. Now, if you want to actually meet and talk, contact me at lunch and I'll see what we can do. I want to hear your side of the story. By God, Bernadette hasn't told me a damn thing I can understand." That seems to make Midnight secretly happy.

The Power In My Hands

Bernadette and I met for lunch as we had previously agreed. After getting our lunch, we sat down for a discussion. Bernadette is a bit alarmed about the confrontation, illumination and the kiss in particular. I honestly tell her that I don't know whose side I am on – and she understands. I ask her why.

"There are two possibilities that explain why you can do what you do; you are a creature of Light or Darkness," she waits for my laughter. I'm not laughing. I have people popping in and out of people's perceptions, I'm kicking more than serious ass – I'm acting psychotic.

When Option A is smacking a girl half my size with a chair because I'm afraid I've lost my grip on reality. And beating up girls is unlikely to make me one of the good guys.

"I'm a Monster," I whisper.

"To make an over-generalization – yes, you are a power of darkness," Bernadette nods.

"What are you? What are they?" I worry.

"I am a mortal and we dedicate our lives to either the Darkness or the Light, as have the women in my family for centuries," Bernadotte confesses. "The Twins were never like us mortals, their existences were dedicated to the Dark Forces of the Universe – no, it is not the Force out of Star Wars."

"Keep going," I prod her. She takes a deep sigh that sounds like she's about to jump off a steep cliff.

"There was a coven of witches that dates back to the 15th century in Scotland," she stares at me. I'm still not laughing so she continues. "Every coven needs thirteen members – no more and less means you are not a true coven."

"When the New World was discovered, that coven decided to leave the Homeland and come here to the area you know as New England, Nova Scotia and Quebec. Unfortunately, an English coven had the same plans and while the Scots were of the Light, the English were Dark. They both came over two or three at a time and soon were sniping at each other, but neither side had a complete coven on this side of the Atlantic to decide the manner," she seems happy that I'm being so attentive.

"The first coven was winning, countering the dark influence, and their librarian, the last member of that coven, was coming over when the English struck," Bernadotte seems more animated sort of the way I remember feeling when Father was telling me about my ancestors. "They killed one of the Scottish members – witches killing witches is normally forbidden – but in doing so revealed that they were rushing the last six members of their coven to end the struggle once and for all."

"The Scottish leader – my great-grandmother – came up with a desperate plan. She found a Sacred Woman of Passamaquoddy People. She saw the vile taint coming her people's way and agreed to remake the World to trap those six witches before they could lay foot on the Continent proper. The ritual tore their bodies apart and trapped them on this island. It was never meant to be a permanent solution though," she expresses some regret.

"But it was and they are pissed," I state the obvious. "Is there anything short of fatality that will end this feud?"

"The head of the Scottish coven was murdered four days ago," Bernadette trembles. "That was what they told me this morning and I know it to be true."

"Do you want me to make them tell you who did the deed so we can, once we get off the island, make them pay. I'll help as long as I can," I promise.

"That's the bizarre thing Richard; you should have succumbed to them by now. Being a Monster doesn't make your more resistant; it makes you more compliant," Bernadette explains.

"How does any of that make sense? I'm kicking their asses," I counter.

"Darkness creatures are hierarchal Richard," she states. Since I'm not getting it, she adds, "You are the stronger Monster. When they figure this out, they are going to be terrified because then the whole 'stronger creature dominates the weaker' is going to be working against them."

"Okay – downside: when do I lose it? When do you have to put me down, or do I have to put myself down," I convey to her.

"Please understand Richard, we shouldn't even be talking to one another," she looks totally flummoxed. "You shouldn't have come to my aid. Hell, you should have joined in on my rape and murder."

"I'm not like that, Bernadette," I shake my head. "My family never gives in."

"What do you mean – your family?" she becomes laser-intensive.

"Since the Revolutionary War, Vandemeyer men have been fighting and meeting grizzly ends," I inform her. "My Father was captured, tortured and killed by the Taliban."

"My Grandfather's Bradley APC hit a mine. He was last seen jumping back into his burning vehicle to get his driver out. He was burned alive. I had an ancestor killed at Antietam; his legs were blown off but he still was borne by his men to victory before he died. I can keep going down the list of my honored dead if you want."

"Richard, that sort of suffering should make you more evil, not less," Bernadette shakes her head. "My real name is Regina Ravenrook, by the way. I used a pseudonym to come here because I really am a student here as well . Being a witch these days doesn't pay all that much so it helps to have a career to fall back on," she jokes weakly.

"Ravenrook as Camilla Ravenrook's..." I guess.

"My grandmother," Bernadette, now Regina, tells me. "She founded this school to reinforce the positive, hopeful, youthful energies here thus decreasing the degradation of the ritual and hopefully finding a replacement for her dead 13th member."

"But they got out," I reexamine the obvious.

"I'm not – you Richard, you did it," she tries to study my soul. "You inadvertently tipped the balance; your Dark energies are what cracked the mystic wards the witches wiggled through and the rest is history."

"And it was simply convenient that I happened to be gone," and I'm not an idiot, "to London. You said they were English damn it." I had hoped I'd earned internship on my own merits.

"Covens of the same aspect support one another, with the added difficulty that Darkness does not trust Darkness," Regina states, "but they didn't know your name though or the Twins would know you."

"So a power of Light lured me away?" I imagine. "A power we haven't seen yet. A power like what all the students here are subjected to?"

"How so?" Regina questions me. "Most students are infected with the background of dark energy which makes them give into their darker impulses. A special few are actually infused with the Witches' energy, but they are still themselves. As far as I can tell, you and I are immune."

"Had I stayed and met the Witches without you being around Regina, I would be working for them now."

"Good guess, but 'no'," Regina corrects. "A white coven would have warned a White Coven where a Black coven would not necessarily inform either one. It could be third faction; some other kind of Darkness creature could be involved."

"This is getting nuts – how much is out there?" I groan.

"It took the entire summer of my 12th year to get a broad view," Regina gives a sympathetic grin. "But usually the organized monotheistic religions are opposed to us, both Light and Dark. Truly, they are opposed to the Darkness but over time the Dark had painted White with the same brush in order to hurt the White."

"Basically, a White Witch will help a village from behind the scenes while a Dark Witch will poison wells and cause diseases. It is safer for the humans to simply hunt down all witches."

"Monsters are easier to understand," I exhale in frustration. "Hell, I'm a psycho. I hurt people. It is easy to see why I would be exiled or hunted...but I only seem to be psycho here."

"No, you are a controlled psycho all the time," Regina presses me. "People don't do what your family does; jumping into a burning tank (she means APC), charge enemy entrenchments with your legs blown off, or attack your enemy with the stump of your fingers."

"I still don't – Twilight and Midnight coming," I warn Regina. I stand up and put my body in a position to guard Regina. They can see one another but the Witches will have to get passed me.

"We would like to talk with you, Richard Vandemeyer," the two sing-song their message. There was a long pause as I waiting for them to start talking. "Please; alone – away from 'Bernadotte'."

"She has told me her real name and her relationship to you – her version," I say. I notice a bruise on Twilight's cheek were I back-handed her last night in Ms. Harper's room. I feel a tiny bit bad – she is still guilty of conspiracy to rape Regina – about it. She flinches when I stroke the wound with the back of my hand and shudders when I will part of my courage to her.

"Sorry," I say. I'm a Vandemeyer after all. The damage fades until it vanishes. Twilight reaches up and traces a finger along the non-existent wound.

"You healed the wound," the Twins and Regina all whisper at once. I start to think that I've learned a few things in London even if I wasn't the top pick of candidates; today, beyond all expectations or imaginings the lessons are interconnectivity and sympathetic reaction .

"You are awake because you siphoned off some of my energy when I was here my freshmen and sophomore years," I blindly toss out there. "My dark energies are inside each of you. You are in my domain, so be warned. I'm not expecting obedience and servitude, but you had better stay out of my way because that same tie that has prevented you from hurting me allows me to end you; you have been warned."

They say nothing for a full minute and Regina says nothing to me so I hear just the babble of normal conversation, the clatter of plates and silverware and the movement of bodies all around us.

"What do you want for Regina s and Shelby Ravenrook's lives?" the Twins request of me. I'm wondering if they buy, then strangle puppies. Shelby? Who the fuck is Shelby?

"Well, you had your chance," I shrug. "Regina, can you hold off those other four for twenty or so minutes?"

"Yes, I think so. Besides, I have both the note you gave me from Midnight and your book bag so I can get a rapid warning to you, if necessary ," she replies. "The book bag is personal to you and the note is an enchantment of hers. Will you be safe?"

"We are about to find out," I take a deep breath. "Come on you two," I say as I grab the two raven-haired beauties by the upper arms, spin them around and head for the exit. Bradley and six of the biggest guys in school intercept us.

"Vander-chump," Bradley mumbles through a busted lip, missing teeth and a swollen jaw, "you are going to get yours now. Spread out," his directs his cohorts. I gently put 'my' twins to one side.

"Bradley, I meant to catch up with you earlier but this will do – whoa!" I interrupt the rush to beat down on me. My blood is starting to boil but I feel obliged to make a futile gesture. They give me just enough time to get these words out, "Bradley, get your belongings and walk your ass down to the ferry because if I catch you here after nightfall, I am going to beat you until you cannot stand – okay, let's go."

I'm lucky to get the first two blows off. I punch the guy coming in on my left as hard as I can and my blood boils over. My body enters a state that isn't what I thought it would feel like; it is the removal of any sensation of from my body, the editing of superfluous sights and sounds, and an absolute clarity of the things that matter; namely the seven guys I am fighting, the Witches and Regina, though they are dozens of yards apart in different directions.

I kick one of the guys in front and he is gone; then I am born to the ground. It takes everything the guys holding my arms can bring to bear to hold me down. It doesn't really help. I scissor-kick one guy – hitting his ankle from one side and knee on the other – his Fibula and Tibia snap like dry twigs and the Tibia actually pokes through the skin and his pants.

His howling screams disrupt the survivors. One man gets a kick in to my hip, Bradley pushes the screaming guy aside and the last one takes my shoe to his knee, snapping it back to a reverse angle. He yowls and flies away. When Bradley tries to kick me in the crotch, I catch the tip of his shoe on the soul of my foot while I suddenly find the strength to hurl the man on my right arm off – way away from the fight.

I take another hit to the hip and it is dawning on me that I register the hit but not the damage. I know my hip is in pain from a clinical point of view but I am still totally functional. I push off from Bradley, sending him sprawling away before whipping the man on my left arm into the guy kicking my hip, splaying them both on the ground. Bradley and I regain our feet at the same time.

The six witches start moving their hands and chanting in that warped gibberish of theirs. Regina stands and I see three upper-class women start to swing around in her direction.

"Don't worry about this," I wave her off. Instead I grab two random book bags, hurling one then the other at the two lead attacking girl-minions.

With the first, I hit the lead girl in the shoulder, smacking her into the closest table. I get the hang of this bag-throwing thing and nail the second girl in the head and she's lights-out. The third girl freezes and looks my way.

"Back your ass up," I growl and the girl flees back to the Witches' dwindling cliché.

When I turn back, the Witches have finished with Bradley; his body looks the same but he is infused with a lethal charisma and an animalistic menace.

"I am going to bathe in your blood," Bradley hisses. He's barely human anymore – his flesh is only a shell for the power of the witches and his own wickedness. The Witches don't create evil; they build upon what is already in you – how nice.

I wait; I'm monster but not like him. Bradley has surrendered that portion of the human persona that mastered fire and nurtured his family and clan by dint of personal sacrifice, multiple millennia ago. He's probably feeling no pain, but he hasn't healed either. I know what that means.

"Die," he froths at the mouth as he charges, hand's outstretched; this might hurt.

I bring my hands up over my head and step forward. I bring my balled fists down as his hands are grabbing my shirt, connecting hard with his collarbones resulting in a resounding snap. My fists drive into the top rib and that almost snaps too. His nervous system to each arm collapses and suddenly he is a head and limbless torso in a fist fight. My head butt finishes him off.

It takes me a moment due to my 'super power' to figure out what has happened. No one in the lunchtime crowd is saying a word and they are all looking at us. Somewhere their little monkey brains have been finally allowed to kick the civilized thought centers in the gonads and wake the body up. The Witches have suffered their first significant defeat. My earlier encounter with Midnight was a tiny ripple where this is a huge wave crashing onto the rocks.

No longer will students be drug off in the night while all the rest can do is put their pillows over their heads and be thankful it isn't them – this time . The witches gambled and lost. My only problem is I have no idea what to do with this victory. I hoist Bradley up and shake him.

"Walk the fuck out of here and never come back," I snarl.

"Help...help me," Bradley pleads to the lead blonde. She turns away and the rest follow suit. The human clique does the same over the next few seconds. Only Sally spares me a look and it is one of fear – fear of me or for me, I'm not certain.

"Spring and Autumn, come over here," I command. It appears that arrogance is a trait us Dark folk share. "Spring and Autumn, get your derrieres over here. I am not asking a third time." I reach down and feel one of the flagstones on the floor and sense the chill that gushes like oily water through the floor that I had felt a dozen times before but never understood. It is the lines of magic that crisscross the island.

I feel that energy solidify in the rock then I pry the flagstone up and take it over to the table where I have left the twins, Midnight and Twilight. I begin scrawling with my fingernail the names of Spring and Autumn and, lacking anything resembling knowledge of the occult, I etch an Omega under each name. I heft the stone, snap it in two and get ready to nail them in the same way I hit the two girls going for Regina a minute ago.

I look at the two red-heads. Before I can look down one last time to my impromptu missiles they are walking my way. Apparently scrawling Omega on the stone is the right thing because Midnight and her sister have been right at my shoulder, reading my work.

"Take Brad outside the gates," I don't even look at them. "Once he's beyond school grounds you may do with him as you please – be creative."

The Witches seem confused then they remember my true nature . All six of the little freaks get these sneaky, rather creepy smiles before the red-heads get to work. Four of Bradley's former allies take him by the knees and under the arms. He's whimpering, pleading and crying in fear and pain; before the doors shut out his noise, Bradley is even screaming out my name.

"Bernadette," I use her 'public' name, "I'm going off with these two," I put an arm around Midnight and Twilight, "so where can we catch up?"

"I'll be studying near the Founder's statue," she sings out. I give her a nod and steer the raven-haired twins out of the hall in search of an unoccupied class room.

I know the six are still going to try and kill me and Regina. Darkness hungers for more than death after all, but there are thresholds and how I approach them is my only hope for the Happy Ending getting caught up in this madness the rest of us seem to have thrown away. I find the empty room they suggest and steer my two willing victims inside.

You would think they would be more afraid, but Midnight keeps touching her lips with the tip of her tongue, remembering our kiss, and Twilight is starting to mimic her reactions to an encounter she's never had. I push them up against a wall that, poetically, has a wall-sized map of the world in 1491.

"Take off your panties – all the way off, open your shirts and push up your bras over your breasts," I demand.

"What are you going to do to us," they combine their question with desperate anticipation and lingering fear.

"I'm going to sexually abuse you for my own pleasure," I grumble.

"Oh, sexual relations have no interest to us but we will submit to your basest urges," Midnight and Twilight agree then begin to work off each other's clothes rapidly. Real people don't talk like this. Watching a twin strip down their double while being similarly undressed is an erotic pleasure I never anticipated in my life, much less happening at this college.

"What's next?" they turn and address me. I have totally shut down my upper brain functions while they flash me their...goodies. I draw a blank for a second then,

"Lift up your skirts – both hands and right below the bell – you don't have belly buttons," I stammer through trying, and failing, to sound ferocious. I must sound sexually needy because they give me these tiny, creepy smiles that express their belief they are gaining an edge.

"I am going to have to mark you two so I can tell you apart," I stand close to them. Any hope that my superior size would be intimidating is quickly dispelled by their curiosity.

"No scar will last," Twilight (I'm pretty sure) says decisively and terribly smug.

"You are showing far less imagination and creativity than lovely Midnight here," I chastise one and gently caress the cheek of the other.

I have the twins confused though Midnight is blushing at my touch.

"Braid your front locks; you – Twilight to the right and Midnight to the left," I instruct them. "You may think you can trick me, but you can't."

"How would you tell?" Midnight is honestly curious. I respond by placing my middle fingers on top of my forefingers and rub them along their bald pussies.

Them being hairless, not bald, is plainly freaking me out. It is like,

"You aren't virgins, are you?" I counter-inquire. They give a little sexy breath then giggle.

"We can't be virgins – we've never had souls, so we can't be virginal," they smile at me as if I was a well-meaning toddler they were about to lovingly shove into a pie to cook. I am now back to thinking this whole world has gone insane.

No belly buttons, no pubic hair and no souls. I'd re-examine my mission if I had any other plan in the wings – I don't. Their bodies are nice and smoothly formed; not 'beating down the door to the gym' tight but built slender, warm and compact.

"A little touch of sunlight wouldn't kill you two," I murmur. Twilight's right hand grabs my arm stroking her cunt to steady herself.

"We...we don't do that," Midnight moans. "We are the way we were made; this way forever." I still think I can change that. I have to fight the urgent impulse to ram my fingers in as deep and as hard as I can go. I want to hurt them; make them cry and scream for all the horrible things they've done.

Midnight slumps into me by the time their juices are both flowing freely. Despite their claims, they respond differently. Midnight is a total slut, gyrating against me and trying to hump my hand deeper inside her. Twilight is all about sensitivity, trying to control my movements by trapping my fingers with her thighs where it feels the best for her.

I go down to one knee. The girls lean in to give me access to their tits and I start off by sampling and suckling on each of the four in progression. They may never be mothers or have a mothering instinct but there is nothing wrong with their nipple response. Twilight tries to move her right hand through my hair and hold my head in place but I bite down hard on her nipple and give her a sharp 'No!' Her cunt squeezes my fingertips as I bite down.

Midnight moans lustfully a moment later.

"Please, please," Midnight eggs me on. I reward her by sucking in most of her right breast and twirl around her areola with the thick part of my tongue. My taste buds must be driving her mad the way she's hiccupping her breath.

"Midnight," Twilight nearly sobs, "stop it...I can't take it – stop feeling that way." She reaches out and rests a hand on the back of Midnight's neck, releasing her skirt to fall onto my arm. Her touch is a tender gesture, not angry. I see a rout in the making; I pressure my two fingers up until I can pinch her precious, roaring pink clitoris between my thumb and forefinger.

In one final desperate effort, Twilight's body rockets upward until she's on her tip toes. Her thighs are clenched tight, trying to retard my progress and her body is so tense she can't breathe. I ram my two fingers deep inside her to the last knuckle. Too late I recall the hymen. Twilight is free of obstruction so I jab Midnight as well. They are right and I am wrong – they aren't virgins.

Twilight gives off this high-pitched wail that is half unearthly keening; half steaming hiss of air. As Twilight is twisting on my fingertips, Midnight is pushing down on my fingers so hard that each up-thrust resounds in a painful slapping of my drenched fingers, my thumb dragging rapidly along her clit and the rest of the fingers pushing in her peritoneum and cunt lips.

I wiggle, twirl and pump my fingers deeper into Twilight keeping her going and going on and on. Midnight looks down at me and I see that tiny smile from earlier in the day struggle for its own creation as it ignites across her face. I half-doubted those muscles have ever been flexed before. Now they are coming alive. Her eyes screw shut and she lowers her head on top of mine.

Midnight surges into a series of violent vibrations; her vagina flowing copious amounts of fluid down my palm and arm, soaking the cuff of my shirt. Twilight, having held her muscles tighter, drenches my other arm several second later. What surprises me are the chilling sensations rushing from my heart into the twats of my two raven-haired nightmare-creatures.

It is a conflicted morass of my living self and the vast darkness that engulfs me. This drives the girls out of their minds in some sort of dark magic endorphin rush that is a constant blossoming of orgasmic energy, lust and need. I'm merely getting this as a backlash. The pure effect is for them alone and my tenuous sanity is grateful.

I finally cut the connection and remove my fingers from their pussies. The girls collapse against me; panting, weeping, and doing something to each other and myself. It takes me a second to figure out that they are kissing each other and the hair on my head. My legs slowly propel me to stand once more. I think about making them clean my arms up then another thought comes to mind.

"Clean me," I direct my two dire enemies and immediate lovers.

"But, that's hers..." Midnight struggles for words. See, I've switched arms so that each is cleaning the others mess. Twilight doesn't even pretend to protest. She takes on the first proffered finger, licks it to the knuckle before going for the next. Midnight is right behind her, clearly inspired by her sister's enthusiasm.

"Do you ladies – go at each other a lot?" I say with some suspicion.

"Do you mean sex?" Midnight asks. I nod. "With each other?" I nod again.

"No, we never knew we could feel this way," Twilight pants. "We are made from dead bodies Richard. We never knew we could feel this way." Dead bodies – serious turn-off.

"This is my school and if you go against my wishes I will be even harder on you; are we clear." They nod energetically as the lick their way down my wrists. When they finish licking me 'clean' the look up at me expectantly. I have this bizarre urge to put little chocolate mints on their tongues as a reward for a job well done – then giggle insanely as I throw myself off a cliff.

"And because you've made this campus your personal horror playhouse, from now on, none of you will wear underwear," I command, "because you will be available for sex on demand – whenever and where ever I want; any or all of you." The two stare at me, neither agreeing nor challenging me. Suddenly Twilight collapses.

"I can't stand up," she states with wonderment. "My legs have gone numb."

"Make sure the others understand my intentions," I glare with as much menace at Midnight as I can fake. I should be furious with these poor inhuman – not souls but Damned Ones. No Soul means no salvation – ever. I turn and walk out of the room.

"I don't want to kill him," I hear Twilight whisper in despair.

"I agree sister," I imagine Midnight comforting her twin, "maybe if we remove his brain we can enchant his body to react with muscle memory."

"We will have to experiment to see to the validity of this choice," Twilight murmurs happily.

Part of me wants to run for what remains of my hellish life; part of me wants to go back there and keep snapping their freakish little necks until they understand that sentient beings shouldn't destroy their fellow sentient beings. This only reminds me of how screwed up the World outside this island is too. At least the Witches have something resembling an excuse. Fuck.

Walking Into a Trap

I catch up with Regina at the statue of Camille Ravenrook, with the Blondes sitting close by and in definite danger of earning my ire. I close with Regina and give her a kiss on the cheek; she gives me a kiss on the other cheek and a knowing smile.

"You actually broke those two in," she teases me.

"Maybe," I prevaricate.

"And maybe those two twitched and squirmed so much I'm betting their granite seats are soaked and slick," she teases me even more. "I admit I am a bit jealous."

"Are the red-twins back yet," I change the subject.

"You told them to be creative," Regina shakes her head. She stops talking as I strip off my shirt – it smells of way too much female sexiness. Regina and the witches staring at me is bad enough; the unsolicited 'regular' female attention is surprising.

"Your body has gained...definition as your power has increased," Regina smiles in appraisement of what is so close for to her touch.

"I have dark, death-like energy," I grouse. "How is that attractive? I just broke two near-virgins down and made them cry." I am filled with self-loathing. I hated Brad but did I have to do what I did; no.

"Bad boys, dangerous boys – girls are drawn to the strength and violence a la the Minotaur, satyrs, dragons, and pro-wrestling villains," Regina still is taking amusement at my expense.

"Fine, what happened to Brad?" I grumble.

"I'll let you talk to the red-heads when they get back and cleaned up," Regina arches an eyebrow.

"What about Shelby Ravenrook?" I dodge that barb for a few seconds.

"She's the other Ravenrook heir, but no one has seen her in some time," Regina tells me but I knew she was holding something back.

"Who is the top dog?" I pursue.

"We haven't decided yet; we need to meet to figure that out," Regina evades. "I can tell you about that script Midnight tried to slip you – the blood actually made it too weak to work on you. The woman bled poorly – for Midnight," Regina grins. "It was an Ocular deflection ward; meant to move the creator to your peripheral vision."

"I'm going to have roll that up and stick that paper up her butt," I sigh with some amusement.

"I'd like to see that," Regina grins.

"I'm turning into a sadistic cretin; there is no need to cheer me on down that road," I grouse.

"You are what you need to be," Regina comforted me by placing her hand over mine.

"I'd rather be the man I'm supposed to be," I remained morose. I was missing something and I had little clue as to what it was.

"Girl coming at 3 o'clock," Regina interrupts my meanderings. "Russet hair, leading with her breasts though she's good enough looking."

"I know her – knew her," I turn and face my ex-girlfriend.

"Hello Sally," I mutter angrily. "Regina Ravenrook," I use my friend's true name because Sally is sequestered in the Witches' cliché, "this is Sally Fabian, my very ex-girlfriend." That last bit seems to drive the barb deep into Sally.

"I – just wanted," Sally gulps, "that I apologize for my unwarranted cruelty earlier." Regina and I stare at her; Regina with cruel amusement and me with more anger and distrust. "Um – okay." She turns and walks off.

"She'll be back," Regina whispers to me. "Her sin is Lust; that is how they got their hooks into her. You are the biggest lust-magnet on campus so she's homing in on you."

That sucks to hear because Sally and I had truly hit it off. Sure she is beautiful, with a wondrous body, fun to be with and with the right social connections but we'd been emotionally serious too. I'd never gone so far as to propose marriage but we'd talked about vacationing together and shared a few weeks away together too .

"She liked having sex with me," I snarl, "but that doesn't make her a slut or our sex sinful," I counter.

"She seeks out sexual intercourse for the sake of sexual gratification devoid of any emotional context and leaving a void once the rush is gone," Regina regales me with her understanding of the condition. "The only way out of the emotional crash is to have more sex – a vicious cycle."

"That's not the girl I remember," I furrow my brow.

"The Witches bring out that darkness we all hide inside; in her case a desire to take sexual pleasure from another, uncaring about the price paid by either participant," Regina relates.

"What is your darkness?" I regard Regina.

"I have an insatiable hunger for power," she smiles playfully. Seeing my unease, she adds, "Would you rather I lie to you, Richard?"

"No, and it is time for my next class," I get up and retrieve my backpack.

"Unless you are planning to impress the girls with the aroma of your manly conquests, and your 'fuck me hard all night long' body, you might want to change your shirt before arriving," Regina teases. I would hug the statue of Camilla Ravenrook for comfort but I'm afraid of what effect my tears might have on the stone.

"Crap-cakes," I groan then I see salvation.

"Hey Blondie," I call one of the two witches menacing Regina. Both look my way.

"Eden, get you skanky ass over here," I bark. Reluctantly they both walk my way.

"Do you have to antagonize them so?" Regina hisses to me.

"Every time I feel sorry for them I remember you in the bathroom, those two boys tied up on the table at breakfast and them I'm good with treating them this way. I'm not the 'Better Guy'," I promise. "I'm the guy who makes you regret not being better yourself."

"Gotchya Batman," Regina winks at me as she stands. The Blondes are clearly looking for a chance to strike.

"Eden, go get me a shirt from the laundry" I toss her my shirt with the cum-splattered sleeves. The moment they don't look peeved I see my screw up. Eden is scanning around for some poor smuck to bend to their will. I grab the top of her ear and pull her back around so she faces me.

"No," I waggle my finger in her face, "you go do it yourself. I'll meet you at the third floor – west wing's men's bathroom."

"I am not your body servant," Eden explains as if I'm some kind of dullard.

"You stop treating all the other students and faculty like the shit beneath your shoes, and I'll give you more of the respect you deserve," I lecture. "Now hop to it," I reach around and smack her butt.

Eden looks to Paradise and Paradise shrugs her uncertainty with the situation. They walk off together, Eden rubbing her sore tush.

"Thank you for pissing them off so expertly," Regina taps my upper arm, "I'll enjoy those extra few seconds of life I get by them taking joy in killing you first."

"Why am I your friend again?" I taunt her.

"You have a fetish for women's water closets after lights-out," Regina beams. I throw up my hands in surrender and start my way to class.