Located outside of Midway City on a dark cliff, tended by a mysterious woman in black is the mysterious Dark Mansion. Join her as she shares…

Halloween Special #1

Written By Paul Daimler

A raven-haired beauty opens the door, her dark eyes pin you in their sight.

Her sumptuous lips part and warm silky words issue forth, "Greetings lost traveler. Welcome to the shadowy grounds of the Dark Mansion... Here down these long forgotten hallways, many have lost their way. Behind these doors lurk secrets best left buried and unknown. Join me."

You are hesitant. How did you make it this far out here? The snow was coming down heavily, and you couldn't see through the windshield. There in the darkness, sitting against the hills outside of Midway City, just before Hawk's Valley it loomed. Tall and dark.

You pulled over and now you are here. And, this dark mysterious woman is inviting you in. But, despite the cold, you can't bring yourself to step over the threshold.

She regards you with a lifted eye-brow and a mysterious smirk, "Too afraid? Then take my hand weary soul, let me lead you to the warm blazing fire. You should warm yourself."

You let her take your hand and lead you to the roaring fire. You sit down and she offers you tea. You decline.

"No tea? Perhaps a story. I call this one… WINTER SCREAM."

The cave was cold and dark. From where she huddled, wrapping a cape tightly around herself for warmth, Skeleta shivered, watching snow fall on the thick trees beyond---in the area outside of Midway City called Hawk Valley.

"Oh, Skeleta… this is all your fault you know. It wouldn't be just you and me if you weren't so bleeding stupid!" The Ghost shrieked, floating nearby.

Skeleta did not reply. She had stopped talking back or even responding to what the Ghost said. It didn't matter what she said anyway. The Ghost was sure that it was always right. And Vivia had begun to believe that it was.

The snow fall was almost calming---and Vivia let her eyes focus on it from the melted skull-visage of her facial features, trying to push the Ghost and it's raining out of her head.

Her real name was Vivia Kerwin. She had grown up fairly normal, although she had often told her parents that she could talk to ghosts. And, as parents are wont to do-they chalked it up to an imaginative child with no friends and time to spend. Growing up in the country, far removed from other children had left them little option. When Vivia went to kindergarten, her parents had high hopes that their daughter would finally meet friends. But, Vivia had come home from school that first day crying, telling her parents that no one believed her when she told them about the ghosts.

Growing up, Vivia had grown farther and farther away from her peers and the other kids at her school. She'd become a loner and an outsider, all the while telling everyone she could talk to the ghosts-and that sometimes they spoke back and that sometimes they helped her by doing what she asked of them. But no one ever believed her, even though it seemed that anytime someone upset Vivia they would have some accident befall them. It came to be, that by the time she was thirteen and in junior high, no one ever spoke to Vivia, not even teachers, and no one came any closer than they had to.

It was during her freshman year in high school that everything went horribly wrong.

Vivia's guidance counselor encouraged her to join the pep squad, telling her that she couldn't keep her own company forever. When Vivia told her guidance counselor about the ghosts, he was polite and did not tell her that it was impossible. He was kind and polite and told her that she would have to tell him more about the ghosts, but for now it was more important for her to try to fit in with her peers and to try to find friends.

For a while things were OK. Vivia started opening up, making friends with another girl who was considered an outcast and called by the cruel name of Fat Mona. Vivia was happy to finally have a friend and the two girls became very close and Vivia stopped talking to the ghosts.

And the ghosts, who all along were real, were not pleased.

The night of the big football game a storm came rolling into town. But the game went on. It was the play-offs, and their high school had dreams of state championships. Thunder rolled across the sky and lightning danced, piercing the sky in jagged silver and white bolts-fringed with purple around the edges. The ghosts danced around Vivia's head all night, whispering that they were going to fix her, get her, make her pay for hurting them. Vivia ignored them, having finally after all of these years learned how to block them out.

The ghosts brushed across Vivia's skin, their thin wispy forms like ice across her flesh. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to scream as they whispered horrible things to her, about all the awful things they were going to do to her. Vivia looked up at the sky, just as the bolt of lightning struck her. The bolt knocked her from the bleachers, sending her flying through the air, and she landed flat on her back on the wet slick muddy grass of the playing field.

The lightning dancing through her body changed her, warping her body and her physiology, giving her muscles super-strength and fusing her veins, giving her the ability to create and channel lightning through her body. Most tragically, the lightning melted her face, sending the flesh dripping like wax down the skull's chin, pooling up on her pep squad uniform. Her screams were awful and the smell of burning flesh filled the football field.

Vivia rose to her feet, her face gone, a thin sheen of melted skin giving her skull a slick gloss. Her eyes peered out wide and green, her lipless mouth was frozen in a skull's death grin. People screamed, running from the girl with the melted face, her pep squad uniform a smoldering smoking mess. It was at that moment that Vivia's mind snapped and from her hands, lightning danced and she killed anyone who came within her bolts. The ghosts danced all around her, telling her that she was theirs forever, and that they were her only friends.

She collapsed from the stress several hours later and awoke in Arkham Asylum, where she remained for several years-until the ghosts broke her out. She headed to the Midwest and began terrorizing banks along the way. Winding up in Wisconsin, where she went on a month-long crime spree that netted her nearly ten million dollars. It was that path of destruction that had led her across state lines and to Midway City. What should have been another series of daring robberies had brought her into conflict with Supergirl and left her missing two of her ghostly companions and not adding any more money to the collection of cash she had in the back of this cave.

Skeleta shivered, hugging herself tightly against the chill, only thankful the remaining ghost was no longer screaming.

Once the day was nearly half-done, Skeleta's hunger demanded to be satiated. Rising, Skeleta left the cave, walking down sloping hills and toward the small cabin nestled among the tall pines that clogged Hawk's Valley.

She'd discovered the cabin not long after arriving in Hawk's Valley. It was a small log cabin with a fireplace and a small kitchen and a comfortable bed. Vivia would have hidden there if not for the old man.

An old blind man lived in the cabin. She'd observed him for a long time-all these months she'd been hiding out here since Supergirl had beat her.* She'd watched through windows as he ate soup and running his fingers across a Braille board. He'd seemed at peace. And despite her hunger that day, she had not gone and just taken what she wanted. Not right away.

*see Supergirl Halloween Special #2: The Haunting of Vivia Kerwin for the full story.

Only when he was gone did Skeleta go into his cabin. She took a few canned goods and an old battered can opener-only after making sure that he had another one.

For the past few months this had been the routine. Sometimes, when she was lonely, and the Ghost was wherever it went when it left her alone, Vivia would wander down to the cabin and hide outside, listening to the old man playing guitar and singing.

Vivia found it comforting. And when she leaned against the log cabin, hearing him through the walls, she could close her eyes as best as she could with her paper-thin eyelids a long-ago plastic surgeon had created to the best of his ability. Not that he had much to work with. The lightning bolt had melted off most of her face-creating the thin sheen of plastic-looking skin over her skull.

For those moments, when Skeleta was lost in the music, she felt calm and relaxed. She could feel the whispering calm of sanity-and for some reason, even if the Ghost appeared to her in these moments-the music drowned it's voice out, giving Skeleta some measure of peace.

The old man played for a long time; and Skeleta continued to listen. When he finally finished, she would make her way back up the hills to the caves at the foot of the mountains.

Today, there was no music, just the silence of an empty cabin. Skeleta found the door unlocked-as it always was. The old man did not have much in the way of worldly goods; and thieves would be uninterested in the battered old radio he listed to and his scuffed furniture and kitchen-ware, or his books. The only real items of note was his guitar-which he took with him when he was gone.

Once inside, Skeleta took canned goods in the back of the cupboards-picking those covered in dust-and that appeared to have been forgotten by the old man and time. Once she had several cans-enough to last her for the next few days. She left the cabin.

The snow was coming down heavily and Skeleta was freezing. The Ghost was ranting; and that on top of the cold was causing Skeleta's head to hurt. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs-the scream that would level this cave, bringing it crushing down on her. In death, she suspected there would be no pain-no annoying ghosts; just sweet oblivion.

"We're going to FREEZE to death." The Ghost whined.

Sometimes Skeleta missed the other two ghosts-the ones Supergirl had killed. When there were three ghosts, they talked amongst themselves and left Skeleta alone.

"I need to move." Skeleta said, her limbs going numb on her.

Moving out of the cave, Skeleta noted the culr of smoke drifting up from the cabin's stone fireplace. Perhaps if she went and stood close to the fireplace the heat would help chase away some of the chill that had settled into her bones.

"Where you goin'?" The Ghost asked, chasing after her.

"To find some warmth." Skeleta whispered, the Ghost hovering nearby.

As she neared the cabin, she could hear the old man playing his guitar. The sound of his fingers plucking strings quickly and melodically drowned out the Ghost's ranting.

The silence-with nothing but the music and the sound of snow landing and melting on her was heaven. Skeleta's boots crunched through the snow; she neared the stone fireplace-feeling meager heat through the stones. It wasn't much, but it was more heat than she'd had in the cave.

Suddenly the music stopped.

---"Stupid cow! LISTEN TO ME!" The Ghost was saying as he came back into audio.

"Shut up." Skeleta hissed.

The door to the cabin creaked open… Skeleta froze in place. Her bulging eyes growing wider in terror.

"You can come in if you're cold." The old blind man said.

"Thank God he's blind." The Ghost cracked, "He won't run screaming when he sees your hideous face."

Skeleta said, her voice soft, "If it's no trouble. I am able to get some warmth standing by your fireplace. I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Oh pish-posh." The old man scoffed. "You could keep me company. Besides I have a big pot of vegetable soup you could help me eat."

"That would be nice." Skeleta said; tears welling up in her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had treated her with kindness. She realized he was blind; but that was a relief.

Skeleta made her way to the opened front door.

"I'm Donald." The old man said warmly.

"Sk-" She quickly caught and corrected herself. "Vivia."

"Nice to meet you." Donald beckoned her in, leading her over to a table.

"This is cozy." The Ghost said. "You should kill him and take it. We could live it up here. Just kill him. He's old and blind. You'd be doing him a favor."

Vivia did her best to block the Ghost as she took a seat at the table.

"Help yourself to soup." Donald said. "I'll put on a record. Do you like jazz?"

Vivia couldn't remember if she did or not. Jazz and liking it was something from a life long gone.

"Sure." She managed, taking a bowl and ladling soup into it.

"Sure? How can you like jazz you stupid cow?! Really?! Jazz is pure CRAP! CRAP! People who like it are CRAP!" The Ghost ranted. "Don't let him put on any CRAPPY FU-"

The sound of a horn announcing the beginning of a song silenced the Ghost, blocking him out.

Donald made his way back to the table, taking a seat and pouring himself soup.

"Have you been living out here long? I can't imagine it's very pleasant in the caves now that the snow season has begun.

"Uh…" Vivia froze, her spoon just below her mouth. Without lips, soup was a challenge, but she would try.

"It's OK. I know you've been living out here. It's why I've been pushing more cans toward the back of my cubbard, so you can eat."

"Thank you." Vivia whispered, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

"It's no trouble. I don't mind sharing." Donald smiled.

When she left that first day, Donald had tried to convince her to stay on his couch, but she hadn't been able to take advantage of his hospitality that way. However, he'd sent her with blankets and fire wood. She had managed to keep the cave almost comfortable at night, which was better than intolerable as it had been before.

During the past few weeks, she'd spent a little of each weekday visiting with Donald. He always played music; and Vivia had realized that music silenced the Ghost. She hadn't verbalized it out loud-letting the Ghost know-but she had noted it and had to figure out a way to get a walk-man or music player. If she could silence the Ghost, maybe she could get her life back. Since she was getting stretches of time without the Ghost's constant nagging, she was beginning to feel almost sane.

Making her way down the hill, Vivia felt sadness. It was Friday, and this afternoon Donald's son would take him into the city to visit.

Looking across the snowy tree tops and Hawk Valley, Vivia hated that she already feared being left by Donald. She had grown so used to human companionship that already she was feeling lonely when she left his company.

"You need to kill the old man." The Ghost said matter-of-factly. "And then we can live in his house."

"We're not killing him." Vivia replied.

"WHATEVER VIVIA!" The Ghost snorted. "You are getting uppity and too used to the sound of your own name."

The snow crunched beneath her boots. As the snow drift grew heavier, Vivia realized how impractical her super-villain costume was.

Super-villain. The thought echoed in her head. She was one of the bad guys. Just a few years ago she'd had a poster of the Teen Titans on her wall-idolizing Wonder Girl Donna Troy. I will change that. Once that Ghost is gone.

She reached Donald's house, knocking and then entering as he called "come in."

"Vivia!" He called brightly as she entered.

"Skeleta." The Ghost hissed. "Don't forget your real name. Or your place."

Donald dropped a record onto his ancient turn-table. There was a brief pop and crackle as the needle slid into the groove.

"Kill the old goat! KILL HIM YOU STUPID CU-"

Vivia was standing to leave, knowing that Donald's son would be here soon.

"You should stay and meet Donald Jr." Donald said.

"Maybe next time." Vivia said meekly.

"There's no reason to feel shy. Donald Jr. is like me-he won't judge you just because you're down and out." Donald said.

"Maybe next time." Vivia said. "I don't feel up to meeting new people today."

"OK. But Sunday night, you should come down and meet him. Better yet, stay in the cabin over the weekend. That way you can stay warmer than in that cave. And, you can sleep on a real bed."

Vivia was tempted.

"OK. I'll come down tonight." Vivia said.

"Good. It will make me rest easier. And-" He groaned loudly.

"Donald?!"

The old man's face turned into a grimace of pain, and he collapsed to the snowy ground. His hand flew to his chest, gripping madly.

"Donald!" Vivia crouched down beside him. She thought he might be having a heart attack.

The green smoky form of the Ghost rose up from his chest.

"Since you wouldn't do it, I did." The Ghost said.

Skeleta's eyes filled with hate.

"I'll KILL YOU!!" She screamed, clenching her fists tightly.

She stood, anger filling her entire being.

A car began creeping up the driveway, cautiously moving through the snow.

Vivia looked at the Ghost, suddenly unaware of her surroundings and Donald beneath her. All she could feel was her anger and hate-raging like a furious wave as seeing the Ghost rise from Donald's chest blotted out all other thoughts.

"I WILL KILL YOU!!! KILL YOU!!!" Vivia shrieked.

"I'm already dead, Brainiac." The Ghost scoffed. "Boy, are you dumb, Skeleta. Your brains musta melted with your ugly face."

"SHUT UP!! I'LL KILL YOU!!"

For the first time, Vivia was aware of the care-and that it had come to a stop.

"Dad?" The man standing beside the car, his body behind the open car door. His face was filled with confusion.

Vivia stopped and looked at the man-Donald Jr. no doubt, and considered how this looked-especially when considering how she looked.

These past few weeks, she'd felt herself surfacing; casting aside the chains of insanity. Donald's kindess and friendship had been a light-stabbing through the unfathomable dark. Now… she could fee lherself hanging by a thread above an abyss. Sanity was slipping through her fingers, and only that one thread kept her hope-however small, alive.

"What have you done to my father? YOU MONSTER!!" Donald Jr. roared.

Vivia could hear the Ghost laughing, cackling madly.

The thread snapped. The light went out. And Vivia was gone. Perhaps forever.

All that remained was Skeleta.

Skeleta felt the building from within-the sonic scream powered by her rage.

Opening her mouth, Skeleta released it all. The tidal wave crushed her mind completely, even as the scream tore through Hawk Valley-slamming into Donald Jr-rupturing his ear drums, and sending him flying through the air with his car and trees and rocks and stones and anything that unbearable sonic scream tore through.

Once the well of rage was empty, and only her shattered mind remained, the Ghost came up beside her. A small fissure in reality hovered beside him glowed as another Ghost slipped through.

"CHLOTO!" The second Ghost cried.

"Aturo!" The first Ghost replied.

"That ignorant cow re-opened the fissure to purgatory long enough for me to slip back thru. Dortho is still stuck over there."

"Like we need Dortho." The First Ghost laughed. "He's as dumb as that skull-faced clod."

"True." Aturo smiled. "So… we need to get revenge on Supergirl. She kind killed me with her angel fire. Luckily I was already dead… so, it just sent me back to Purgatory. Let's go back to Midway City and get her."

"What's the rush? Supergirl and Midway City aren't going anywhere." The 1st Ghost asked.

"The rush is that while I was back in Purgatory, I asked around. Our girl Supergirl, the New Earthbound Angel, is an unknown commodity. The Hierarchy on both sides is out to get her."

"And you wanna be the one to take her out?"

"We owe her. And, if we take her out, maybe we'll get bodies again. How great would bodies be?"

"That would be great. It would be nice to use my own hands to choke the life out of someone. Instead of using Bonehead over there."

"Agreed."

The two Ghosts hovered behind Skeleta, following her as she headed back in the cabin.

Skeleta's fractured mind only focused on the fact the cabin would be warm.

… the end?

"Did you like the story?" She asks you, her dark eyes pinning you as you warm your hands by the fire.

You shake your head. It seemed so morbid. So horrible. That poor girl. And that poor old man.

The woman's smirk grows into a wicked grin.

"How about another story?" She pours you tea and this time you take it. Your throat is dry and your insides need warming. The heat on your flesh from the fire doesn't match your insides. Inside you feel so cold. So very very cold.

You shake your head 'no' to the story, but she starts again.

"This story is called… DEATH IN THE FAMILY…"

Selena Moonstone had grown to hate her physical therapist. Not just because of the man's perky tireless attitude and upbeat manner, but because he referred to her as "Lena". With the paralysis, the aneurysm, and subsequent stroke had caused, she couldn't even speak enough to correct the man. Oh… if she could speak she'd let him have it.

As she laid on her back, feeling only a very vague, very faint far-off tingling in her limbs, her mind tried to move focus from her physical therapist and channel her anger and hate into getting better. To accomplish what she was planning, she needed more than just limited use of one arm-she would need to be able to speak. The grunting she was capable of now would not get the job done.

Selena closed her eyes, against the brightness of the room. She was thankful she retained at least that much control. Focusing her mind on her goal, Selena pushed away thoughts of her childhood.

She blamed her sister for this. With her current state, her sister Leda had been named her legal guardian. Of course, Leda was busy running a billion dollar empire and had left Selena to be tended to by therapists, nurses, and maids. It was just like when they were children.

Memories flooded Selena's mind, of her, Leda, Lela, and their brother Leno. They'd been raised by the help as their father spent long days running Thorul Enterprises, and their mother trotted the globe as a humanitarian. Always was their mother quick to fly off to some impoverished third world country to tend to orphans, but seldom did she tend to her own brood.

Selena had grown bitter.

Leda had thrown herself into the family business-deciding that she would earn her father's love by becoming a business asset. Leda had risen up through the ranks quickly, starting at fifteen in the mailroom and advancing finally to CEO last year just after her fortieth birthday.

Alex had thrown himself into art-becoming a gifted sculptor and painter. At seventeen he'd had a gallery show-under the assumed name of Thor Leno-getting it on his own-without using Thorul connections.

Lela had joined their mother, traveling the world saving others.

Selena had spent her time, bitter, unhappy, and keeping her own thoughts as well as the thoughts of other. She'd always been aware of her ability to read other's thoughts. But, it wasn't until the long lonely days in Thorul Hall that she'd realized it was a gift. She'd read the thoughts of others-knowing their most intimate secrets. It was company for a girl mostly ignored.

At the age of fifteen, she'd run away with the twenty year old pool boy. It was nearly a month before anyone noticed. She'd been brought home, her parents angry at her-glossing over missing her for so long; their anger multiplied when they discovered she was pregnant.

For such a notable and wealthy family, her teen pregnancy was considered a scandal even in an age where it was less looked down upon. With a few strings, Selena was married off to the gay son of a business associate of her fathers-in a move to close a lucrative deal and save face for the associate.

Selena had actually found some measure of happiness married to Trevor Andru. Together they'd raised Selena's daughter Nasthalia, until the age of six when tragedy struck.

Later, it would be decreed an accident, but Selena had watched it unfurl on a cold evening sandwiched between Christmas and New Year's.

By that time, Selena and Trevor had come to realize that while they were friends and enjoyed one another's company, marriage just wasn't going to work. They planned to separate-and both had new lives planned. Selena had begun quietly dating a handsome artist from Europe. And, Trevor had also found someone. They quietly lived their separate lives in agreement, while continuing the façade their families desired and raised Nasthalia together. It was unconventional, but for Selena and Trevor it worked. Both of them were so happy with their lives-an emotion they were both unaccustomed to, that they weren't vigilant.

While her extra-marital affair might bring some gossip her way, it wasn't an offense that would truly incense her family. Lots of rich married women had affairs. However, Trevor's family was less than forgiving or accepting. Perhaps had his liason been a woman, they would have been fine. But his being gay was still a source of shame for a family politically-motivated with big business and strong ties to conservative religious groups-ties used to further business and political endeavors. Trevor was a liability. One his family had grown weary of and sought to eliminate.

Selena had grown accustomed to tuning out the thoughts of others, so much so that the constant murmur at the edge of her hearing didn't distract her as it had in earlier years. However, sometimes thoughts would slip past the buffer she'd learned to assume to keep from going crazy. If a thought was particularly passionate or vehement, it could slip through easily.

--KILL HIM! STUPID FA-

Selena perked up, looking across the room to the bed where Nasthalia slept deeply. It was late in the evening and outside the sun was beginning to set.

Trevor was out-hunting with his older brother and father. The thought had belonged to one or the other. She hadn't been able to tell. Sometimes the thoughts of family members were hard to read from afar. Without the eye contact, thoughts were flat and colorless.

"Trevor." She whispered in a panic. The thought had been murderous and accompanied by images of a gun-a rifle. Which didn't help in the least. All three of them Trevor, Taylor, and their father Edmond had matching rifles.

Trevor and Selena did not share the true romantic love she shared with Serg. But, he was the closest thing she had to real family. Their love was what she'd always craved from her parents and siblings. And he loved Nasthalia in a way that Selena had never been loved by her parents.

Rushing from the room, Selena reached out in her mind-trying to locate Trevor.

woods….he was in the woods…not very helpful… she thought bitterly.

"Lena?" Her mother-in-law asked, using the hated name. It was Trevor who had started calling her Selena-telling her it was more glamorous and fit her true self.

Selena saw the dirty filth in the woman's mind.

"How could you hate your own son so much? To let them kill him."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The woman whimpered; shrinking beneath Selena's glare.

"Liar." Selena spat. "When he dies, his blood will be on your hands. Blood that will never wash away."

Selena pictured hands, stained. Trevor's mother began screaming, tearing at the flesh of her own hands even though they were clean and unblemished. But, Selena had locked an image in the woman's mind. One that super-imposed the woman's reality. And would stay there forever if they killed Trevor.

TREVOR! YOU'RE IN DANGER She sent the thought out.

??? She heard his questioning, but not real thoughts. Trevor was unaware that his decoy wife had mental powers.

TAYLOR Selena made it as forceful as she could. Reaching out and giving Trevor's brother's brain a jolt.

Selena grimaced-getting a backlash from the thought that made her feet go out from under her as she rushed down the stairs. Losing her footing, she rolled down the stairs, landing with a thud.

As she laid there, flat on her back, her entire body aching, Selena could hear panicked thoughts.

Taylor? Is he OK? What happened? Walking fine. Then falling. Horrible. Horrible expression.

Those she identified as Trevor.

The other thoughts: Changes everything. I guess. I'll have to pull the trigger. Didn't want to be the one. But, it's the only way. The thoughts felt odd; yet familiar.

Pulling herself to her feet, Selena made her way out of the house; her mind seeing those thoughts like a beacon, dragging her toward them.

Pushing herself, Selena sent out dagger like thoughts toward those malicious thoughts. She could feel each thought she sent stabbing into the brain of the person-it had to be Trevor's father, even as she saw images of a rifle being prepped for use.

Selena burst through a clearing, just in time to see Trevor pull the trigger-shooting his father. The bullet took the right side of the man's face off. Edmond collapsed, a gurgling sound in his throat. Trevor stood above him, his eyes dark and malevolent.

Selena felt the thoughts in Trevor's mind. Saw the plans that she'd never noticed because she'd become so adept at ignoring and blocking thoughts.

Edmond, the controlling patriarch. The one responsible for Trevor and Selena's sham marriage. The one who kept Taylor on a tight financial leash. The tyrant who terrorized his wife Emily and daughter Ferin.

Edmond who's gay son had plotted with the rest of his family to kill.

Selena slipped into Trevor's thoughts, seeing the rest of his plans. His plans to abandon Selena and Nasthalia. To never call Nasthalia again-leaving the child fatherless.

Trevor Selena said in her head.

Trevor turned to see Selena standing there, radiant in a ebony velvet dress, her long crimson hair shimmering gold in the setting sun.

"So… you planned to leave my daughter an orphan."

"Selena?" Trevor's eyes filled with fear.

Selena knew why. He had shared that with no one. Not even his lover. Selena thought of Dale. Dale who loved Trevor in a way Selena never could. She felt pity for Dale-who was a good person. But there was no sympathy for Trevor. No. He had planned to hurt her daughter. Her sweet Nasthalia.

"You planned on cutting Nasthalia out of your life." Selena whispered. She knew exactly what to do. She somehow just knew. How to slip into his brain, and change things. It wouldn't be easy. And it would come at a cost. But, she had to do what was best for Nasthalia.

Reaching in, Selena found the most delicate part of the brain. The one linking thought to body control. With just one touch, she could break the connection, leaving him aware but unable to move.

"Selena? You don't understand. It's not what-"

"It is what I think I think." Selena's voice filled his head as she broke the connection between brain and body. Trevor collapsed, eyes open. Laying on his back, Selena could hear his terror and tortured thoughts. She drew satisfaction from this.

A terrific headache filled Selena's thoughts. But there was one last thing to do. She began walking back to the mansion, even as she planted the suggestion that Taylor would not be able to resist when he woke up in just a few moments.

Even as she walked up the steps to the house, Taylor awoke. Following the suggestion that Selena had hard-wired into his brain, Taylor pried the rifle from Trevor's frozen hands, then turned the rifle toward Trevor's head.

Trevor watched with frozen unblinking eyes, unable to move.

His thoughts exploded furiously--NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. PLEASE GOD! NO! TAYLOR! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

The thought died seconds after the crash of gunfire sounded.

Selena allowed a dark smile as she went to check on her sleeping daughter.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her, not all these years later, as Selena lay here, unable to get her own mouth or limbs to react. The backlash the Danvers girl had given her had burnt out the telepathy and caused the aneurysm that had left her this way.

Her resolve grew hard.

She would get out of this, and when she did, she would make Linda Danvers pay.

END

"Did that story help warm you?" She coos, swiping a long lock of ebony hair from her dark eyes.

You try to shake your head no, but you can't. In fact, you just can't move. No matter how much you will it. You're frozen in place.

She walks over to you, leaning in and taking your hand. It's warm. She leans in and kisses you, her lips warm and sweet, but there is something under them-an under taste like… blood and ice.

Suddenly your eyes pop open and you find yourself sitting in your car… trapped in a snow drift. You look toward the sign, MIDWAY CITY 19 MILES. You almost made it before the snow overcame you. But, you didn't. Your eyes go back to the tall dark mansion, sitting on the cliff-side. It's windows are filled with light, but the light is dark and there is something wrong about it. You were tempted to go in, but you resisted.

You feel yourself slipping away….

She watches from the windows of the Dark Mansion. She watches you slip away, and her lips remained curled in that wicked smirk.

THE END