June 14, 1999 Golconda, IL

It'd gotten to the point where going to school was a nightmare. Every single day Donna had found herself flooded with the emotions of those around her. A girl had just broken up with her boyfriend? Donna shared that pain as intensely if it were her own. Another boy was upset because his parents were divorcing? Donna had a ringside seat for that too. Every emotion those around her experienced, Donna felt right along with them.

Why was this happening to her? How in the world was it possible? Was she going crazy? She didn't know--she'd tried reading psychology books, but none of them mentioned anything like this. The only place she could find references to what she was experiencing were science fiction and fantasy novels.

This wasn't a fantasy, however, and that'd been the problem. It'd \par been an increasingly painful, terrifying reality.

It had helped a little when she'd found that remote spot in Shawnee National Forest. With no people around to bombard her with their feelings, their pain, she could relax for a while. But she couldn't stay there 24/7, and so it didn't solve the problem of what to do about this.

She'd gone straight from school to the park to calm down, to get some peace and quiet to try and think. Several hours of sitting quietly watching birds flit by and water tumble over rocks in a stream had settled her down, but hadn't givenher any insight into her situation.

There wasn't anything else she could think of to do except tell her mother, she'd finally decided, hoping that Kendra would know what this was, what to do about it.

Donna wasn't sure if her mother would even be home to talk to, though; Kendra had been spending so much time lately hanging out with her friends, that Donna rarely saw her mother any more.

She'd wondered why that was, what her mother could be doing. They'd used to be so close--though even as recently as her last birthday Kendra had had a few late nights, it hadn't used to be like this. Since she'd seen so little of her mother, she hadn't gotten any real clue as to her mother's emotional state. Not that she'd wanted that, but perhaps if she had she might've seen what was coming, instead of finding out out of the blue the way she had.

The memories played relentlessly onward as she relived how that had happened.

Donna remembered that she'd turned the corner on the street leading to their building--and stopped. In the parking lot had been two County Sherriff's cars. But their lights were not on, and she didn't see any officers standing around, which meant they had to be inside. What could have happened? she wondered. This was a pretty quiet neighborhood as such things went.

She'd hurried past the parked cars, only then noticing the third car alongside. The one with the logo 'ILLINOIS DEPARTMENT OF CHILDREN'S SERVICES'. What could that mean?? There wasn't anyone in the building who worked for DCS, nor were there any police officers. So they had to be here for some reason, she'd thought.

Suddenly a bad feeling had gripped her. She had quickened her pace, knowing almost instinctively she had to get to their apartment. Something had happened, something bad, she'd somehow sensed.

She couldn't remember ever having gotten to the third floor so quickly before that day. That strange sense that something was terribly wrong had nagged at her. She couldn't wait for the elevator. Instead, she ran up the three flights of stairs and down the corridor to 315.

She'd hurriedly unlocked the door and half-ran in. "Mom, there's--" The sentence had died, unfinished. Because her mother hadn't been there. Not only that, but there had been three strangers sitting in the front room. It'd been two men and a woman, she remembered, and the two men, by their uniforms, were police officers.

As they'd seen her, they'd stood up. One of the two policemen had come over to her.

"Donna Shelley?"

"What are you doing here? Where's my mother?" she had demanded. The feelings she'd been getting from them were confusing, but she was certain of one thing. Something had happened. Something bad--she'd been afraid to let herself be drawn in further. She'd tried not to meet their eyes, it was the only way she'd known how to shut the raw emotions out. She had to know what was going on, though, even as the feeling she wouldn't like what she was about to hear grew stronger.

"Miss Shelley, we're from the Pope County Sheriff's Office. Mrs. Hampton here is from Children's Services." the first policeman said. "Your mother has been arrested and is in the County Jail being processed by now."

"Arrested?? For what??" Donna had cried. Her mother wasn't a criminal, she'd been so sure about that. She'd suddenly felt weak-kneed, but had resisted the urge to sit down. She'd been determined to confront these strangers, desperate for some clarification. She'd been so sure it was all some horrible mistake, that her mother wasn't a criminal, couldn't possibly be.

"Miss Shelley--Donna? Can I call you that?" the woman had said. She'd been white haired, probably about sixtyish. She had held out a hand to her, which Donna had shied away from. Touch was another way she'd be flooded with emotions and she couldn't have handled that right then, not and concentrate on finding out what'd happened to her mother.

Donna remembered that the woman had noticed her drawing back, her eyes had narrowed, but she hadn't commented on it. "I'm just here to help you," the woman-Mrs. Hampton-had continued.

"Help me how?" Donna had found herself snapping back. "I want to know why my mother's in jail! She isn't a criminal for godsakes!"

"You need to sit down," Mrs. Hampton had said gently, but firmly, in an almost motherly tone. she'd been trying to calm Donna down, Donna had known that on one level, but right then she'd been too upset to take it. "We'll explain everything, but you need to calm down, all right?" she had said.

Donna remembered shaking her head impatiently. She'd already been under a lot of strain; this unexpected turn of events coming on top of that had been more stress that she didn't need, and being talked to like she was six years old had been the straw that broke the camel's back. "Don't talk to me like that! I'm not a baby!" she had cried. "Just tell me what's happened to my mother! There's got to be some terrible mistake!"

"Unfortunately there isn't." the first policeman had said. "She's been charged with both embezzlement and--" Donna remembered that he'd glanced to his partner and Mrs. Hampton, both of whom had nodded, then he'd continued. "I'm sorry, there's no easy way to say this, but there's been a murder, too, and your mother is the prime suspect right now."

Donna had wanted to cry. "No, no, no!" she'd wailed. "Damn it! My mother is not a murderer!" she hadn't been able to hold back the tears any longer. "Let me see her! Please!"

Mrs. Hampton-whom Donna had realized by now was a social worker--had come over and tried to draw Donna into a hug, which she'd been too distraught to reject this time. Unfortunately that had opened her up to the woman's emotions. While that'd let Donna see that the woman's concern for her was real, she hadn't been able to deal with that right then, not when the only thing that'd mattered to her at that moment was what'd happened to her mother.

* * * * * * * * * *

As it turned out, that'd only been the start of it. They'd made her pack up a bag with a few things, assuring her that the rest would be placed in storage. Then-ignoring all her pleas and protests-they'd taken her to the county children's shelter for the night, they'd refused to let her stay in the apartment she'd called home all her life. All the while, she'd been begging, over and over again, to be allowed to see her mother.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, they'd finally allowed her to do that. It'd been a long drive--nearly six hours--in a state car, though; women being taken into the prison system were always processed at Dwight Correctional, the police explained to her, and Kendra had been almost halfway there already by the time Donna had met the police at their apartment, so she'd have been settled in by the time they could get Donna there.

Donna remembered the guard who'd led her into the visiting room, that first day. She'd been a stern faced fiftyish woman with dark hair streaked with gray, worn pulled back in a tight bun and an I'll-take-no-nonsense expression. Despite all Donna's pleas, they'd refused to allow her to actually go into the cellblock. There were rules about minors visiting inmates, it was explained to her.

The guard had, instead, taken her to a special room where inmates could receive visitors. The room was actually split in half by a glass wall, There were tables positioned in such a way that the wall cut them in half as well. Donna was told to sit at one, and wait. A few minutes later, a guard on the other side of the wall led her mother in.

Donna felt like crying again. Kendra looked worse than she could remember ever having seen her. The dull blue coveralls which were apparently what inmates were given to wear around here was bad enough, but the look on her face...her eyes red from crying, her hair uncombed, straggling wildly...damn it, what could have happened? Donna asked herself again, and knew she had to find out.

"Mom..." Donna whispered, tears running down her face, pressing her hand against the glass. Oh, if only they'd let them actually be in the same room; she so wanted to hug her mother right then. However, physical contact wasn't allowed; she'd been told about that, too. There was too much chance someone might use that to smuggle contraband in, she'd been told.

"D-donna...??" Kendra sobbed, as the guard on her side eased her into a seat. "What--what are you d-doing here?"

"I could ask you the s-same question." Donna replied. "They're saying terrible things--it's got to be a mistake, Mom. I know you didn't, you couldn't've..." she couldn't make herself say it.

"I didn't kill anyone!" Kendra cried. "I don't care what they said! Bruce was still alive when I left! He--he said he'd let me go home, tell you, before he sent for the police. That's the last time I saw him!" She stared at her daughter. "I swear, that was! You believe me, don't you?" she sobbed.

Donna pressed her hands against the glass even more tightly, wishing she could hug her mother. \ldblquote Of course I do,\rdblquote she'd murmured back, through her own tears. Kendra was in much the same state, and it was made harder on both of them with the guards on both sides watching them so intently.

The insistence in Kendra's voice was enough for Donna, even if she hadn't already known her mother was no murderer. The way she was acting, though, it sounded like she was admitting to embezzlement, and Donna wouldn't have ever thought of her mother as any kind of a thief.

"What happened, Mom?" Donna asked. "Please-I've got to know. They're telling me the m-most awful things." How else was she going to deal with what the police were telling her, unless she heard her mother's side of the story?

Kendra slowly told the tale, between gulping sobs. How all those nights with her friends had involved trips to such places as Harrah's and Paradise Island. How it hadn't been long before she'd gotten in over her head and had loan sharks threatening her. She'd been desperate to pay them off and had started taking small sums at first, but they'd wanted more and more. Then the company auditors had turned up the discrepancies, and eventually Bruce, her boss, had traced the shortages to her.

* * * * * * * * * *

November 1999...

That day in the Dwight Correctional Center had only been the beginning. There'd been discussions with lawyers, a court hearing before a judge, and then the trial had begun. State of Illinois vs. Kendra Shelley. Charge 1: Capital murder. Charge 2: Embezzlement. There had been more legal details but that had been the core of it.

While all of that had gone on, Donna had only been allowed to see her mother at intervals. They hadn't, however, allowed her to go back home to their apartment. She'd had to stay in the Pope County Children's Shelter.

That place hadn't been what bothered Donna the most. Even with the other children there, being surrounded, bombarded, by their emotions, and those of the staff--as rough as that was, it was much like being at school had been the last few weeks.

No, worse than that was what the defense lawyer had explained as gently as he could. The evidence the state had, while pretty much circumstancial, was also overwhelmingly against her mother, and it was definitely going to be a death penalty case.

Donna had been unable to keep from bursting into tears again when she'd heard that. She'd never had anyone but her mother--she didn't even know who her father had been, much less if there'd ever been any other relatives. Her mother had never mentioned anything about her father or any family he might've had, and she knew her mother had been an orphan. So this would mean losing the only family she'd ever known, and that she couldn't bear.

Especially since she was sure this was all completely wrong, that her mother hadn't done what they were saying she had. Her faith in her mother had been shaken by Kendra's admitting to theft, yes, but that didn't mean she believed Kendra was now, or could ever have been, a murderer. Those were two entirely different things.

Donna found herself swept back into the memories...

* * * * * * * * * *

June, 1999 Visiting Room, Pope County Children's Shelter Golconda, IL

"No, no, no!" Donna cried, ignoring the efforts of the lawyer and the Children's Services Counsellor to calm her. "You can't let them do that! They can't--kill her!" she wailed. "She didn't kill anybody! Damn it, we're talking about my mother! Don't--don't t-take her away from me, please!" she'd wailed.

"We've talked to the State Prosecutor, Donna," the lawyer said as gently as he could. "We will again, but it doesn't look good. I'm sorry to have to say that.\rdblquote He turned from Donna to the counsellor, sending her an agonized look.

"I know this is very difficult for you, Donna," the counsellor from CS said. "That's why I'm here, to help you get through this."

"You want to help me, then save my mother!" Donna nearly screamed and ran from the room, back to her bed in the dormitory where she flung herself on her pillow, sobbing.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had only been a week or so after that, that she'd been told her mother was about to be sentenced. The defense lawyer had done everything he knew how, but hadn't been able to convince the state prosecutor to back down from asking for the death penalty. Not only that, but the judge handling the case was one with a track record for making the strongest rulings the law allowed. None of which made Donna the least bit reassured of what the outcome of the sentencing would be.

Her mother was about to be executed for a crime she did NOT commit. Donna was absolutely certain of that. Kendra had admitted to everyone involved that she'd been guilty of the embezzlement, she'd pled guilty to that, but she wouldn't to the murder. It had been the same thing she'd said on the first day, she was holding to the story even now.

Nothing that'd come out while the trial had gone on had shaken Donna's firm belief in her mother. Oh, she'd been hurt and angry at first, that'd been true. She'd found herself asking how her mother could've stolen anything, but that hurt, shock, had passed quickly. Donna knew that everyone made mistakes. She could accept that that's what the stealing had been, and her mother had said herself she was willing to pay for that.

However, to expect someone to pay for something they hadn't done-that just wasn't right, and certainly not like this. She only wished she knew some way, any way, to convince the authorities of that. The only things they cared about was what they called 'circumstantial evidence'--which in both hers and her mother's opinion, was nothing more than some horrible coincidence.

* * * * * * * * * *

November, 1999...

The memories still held her, Donna couldn't make herself stop\par reliving every agonizing moment of the chain of events that had brought her to where she was today, and the pain, the anguish, of these memories hurt no less now than they had when these events had taken place, months ago.

* * * * * * * * * *

July, 1999 Pope County Court House Golconda, IL

The sentencing had only been hours away when Donna had suddenly been called to a meeting with her mother and the lawyer who'd been handling Kendra's defense. At first, he'd only told them there'd been a new development, but that he wouldn't be the one to explain it. That'd been when one other person had joined them, someone neither Donna nor her mother had ever met, nor even heard of before that day.

He'd been a tall man, dressed all in black, with long white hair tied back in a knot. He looked to be in his sixties at least, Donna had guessed.

"My name is Tompkins. Nathan Tompkins." the man had said, introducing himself. "Now I am certain that you are both wondering why I am here." he said to both Kendra and Donna. "Putting it as simply, as I can, it is to offer my...assistance."

"What are you, another lawyer?" Kendra had demanded.

Donna remembered having wondered that, too. Who else would, or could, involve themselves in a situation like this?

"No, I am not a member of the legal profession." Tompkins had replied, \ldblquote with all due respect, of course,\rdblquote nodding at the lawyer before returning his attention to Kendra. "However, I am not without considerable...influence. All quite legal, of course." He had smiled, and yet Donna hadn't felt anything from him. That had come as a surprise; she couldn't shut out others' emotions, so why hadn't she been sensing his?

She'd find that out later, but hadn't known it then.

"This case has attracted considerable attention in the press, and in other quarters as well," he had continued--though he hadn't said what those 'other quarters' might have been.

While Tompkins had been speaking to Kendra, he'd frequently glanced in Donna's direction. She remembered noticing that, and briefly wondering why, but the main issue that day had been her mother's situation, so she'd not thought too much about it.

"That is how I came to hear of it." Tompkins had continued. "When I looked at the details of this matter, I became convinced that you, Mrs. Shelley, are being, shall we say, railroaded here. In the matter of the murder, that is. Now that I have met you in person, I believe even more strongly that you were not responsible for the death of that man--your employer, was he not?" he said with a glance to Kendra, who nodded in the affirmative.

"I am here to tell you personally not to worry." Tompkins had continued. "There will be no death sentence passed today, I have already made certain of that. I shall now use every scrap of influence I have to find out who is actually responsible for this situation. I give you my word on that."

"If you can really do all that..." Kendra had said, tears running down her face, "oh, we'd never be able to repay you."

"My only wish here is to see that justice is done." Tompkins had said. "That would be repayment enough." He had paused briefly, then continued. "Now, I can do nothing about the embezzlement charge. You have already admitted to that." he said gently.

Kendra had nodded. "I'll pay whatever sentence I have to for that." she'd whispered, once again looking down at the floor. "I'm just sorry my mistakes hurt you.." she'd said, looking at Donna.

"Mom, it's okay. As long as you're not being punished for something you didn't do." Donna remembered saying. "I--I'll have to handle it, if they make you stay in jail for a while, but least you won't be...dead."

* * * * * * * * * *

November, 1999...

Donna pressed her hands to her eyes, which ached from crying. The way things had changed so much between then and now was so hard to believe. She still didn't understand, maybe she never would, how her life could've possibly turned so horribly wrong, ended up becoming the agony it was now. She'd thought she'd hurt when she'd been expecting to have her mother sentenced to death; but this was even worse.

* * * * * * * * * *

July, 1999...

Nathan Tompkins had been as good as his word. Or at least, so it'd seemed to Donna then, and she was certain her mother still thought he was the miracle he'd originally seemed, since Kendra didn't know what'd happened since.

It'd taken only a week or two before his investigators had managed to uncover and expose the real murderer, thus clearing Kendra of that charge, and finally eliminating the threat of execution that'd hung over her for the last few weeks.

When the sentence against Kendra was finally pronounced, it was only for the embezzlement. Two years minimum imprisonment, the judge had decreed, and then another two years probation, under court supervision.

Resolving Kendra's case, however, had brought up yet another problem. What was to happen to Donna in the meantime? She couldn't stay in the prison with her mother, and at thirteen years old she couldn't be left on her own.

Also, it'd been explained to Donna and her mother, according to the law, the County Children's Shelter only allowed stays of 90 days maximum before permanent custody arrangements had to be made, so she couldn't spend the entire two years there.

* * * * * * * * * *

August 1, 1999 Pope County Court House, Golconda, IL Family Court Division

Donna and the Children's Services counsellor had walked into the courtroom. Donna couldn't stop trembling. The raw and seething emotions of everyone around her were still a minefield she had to negotiate every day. That stress, coupled with and added on to wondering what was to happen to her now, didn't help her own emotional state in the least.

"All rise. Hear ye, hear ye. Court is now in session." the bailiff intoned. "Judge Joseph P. Chalmers presiding."

Donna had watched the Judge enter and take his place on the bench, then settled back as she and the others were allowed to resume their seats.

She remembered that she couldn't keep from twisting her fingers nervously as she'd waited for her case to be called. There'd been several others before her, and having to wait through their proceedings had only made her more tense, more apprehensive.

Then at last.." Donna Shelley." the bailiff had called out.

At a nod from the counsellor, Donna had risen from her seat and walked forward to stand before the bench. The Judge looked down at her, and he did seem to be really concerned--he looked almost grandfatherly, sitting up there. Or at least, he looked how Donna imagined a grandfather might be, never having actually had one that she knew of.

"Miss Shelley." the Judge had said. "since you're thirteen and old enough to understand what's happening here, I'm going to explain the situation to you, rather than just making my ruling as I normally would. In cases like yours, where one parent is in the judicial system and there are no other relatives available to assume custody, the normal procedure would be to remand the child--you--to the custody of the Department of Children's Services on a long-term basis, placing you in foster care for the duration of your mother's imprisonment at least, then a reevaluation when her probation begins. However..." he'd ruffled through some papers on the desk before him. "There has been a special dispensation granted in your case. You won't be going there. Other arrangements have been made." He'd then looked up and nodded to the bailiff, who'd gone over and opened a side door Donna hadn't noticed before.

Three women entered first, walking in a tight group. Two wore the uniforms of prison guards; the third, who they were leading between them, was Kendra, wearing the dark blue inmate uniform.

Donna's eyes widened. "Mom?" she said, not sure what her mother's presence could mean. She'd been told the legal issues would be worked out without her mother actually having to come to the court; they'd explain everything to her at the prison, and have her sign any documents she needed to there.

"You can come in now," the bailiff had called out, apparently to someone who was still in the room Kendra and the guards had just emerged from, and Donna had wondered who that could be.

A moment later, she'd had her answer.

Nathan Tompkins had entered, accompanied by a woman Donna had never seen before. A woman about her mother's age, Donna guessed, with short very dark hair.

"Miss Shelley," the Judge had continued, addressing Donna. "Mr. Tompkins and his, partner, Miss Benson, here, have volunteered to take you in while your mother is incarcerated."

Donna hadn't known what to make of this. At the time, with what Tompkins had already done on her mother's behalf, she could only nod. He must've had his reasons, and she'd be told eventually.

* * * * * * * * * *

November, 1999...

It had gone quickly after that. Her mother, and Mr. Tompkins, and Miss Benson--Christine--all signed the legal papers to formalize her custody. Then Donna had been allowed a few minutes with her mother. That had been spent mostly just hugging and crying and Donna promising to visit as soon as they'd let her.

That very day, Donna had moved into Tompkins' house. This one, here in New York; though she'd been told he owned other houses in different parts of the country.

She'd wondered then why Tompkins had offered to take her in. She'd thought she'd known the answer to that question when they'd talked, shortly after her mother had been taken away. The memories surfaced once again, drawing her back into the past with them...

* * * * * * * * * *

August, 1999...

Donna had said goodbye to the CS counsellor, then followed Mr. Tompkins and Miss Benson out of the courtroom, to one of the small conference rooms along the hall. Tompkins had paused at the door. "Christine, I want to talk to Donna alone for a few minutes before we leave. Would you go on to the car, and tell Oliver we'll be along shortly?" He'd reached out and touched Miss Benson's hand. "You'll be able to get acquainted with Donna later."

Christine Benson had nodded. "All right. I'll see you downstairs." she'd said, and walked away, leaving Tompkins alone with Donna in the small room.

"Donna, go ahead, sit down," Tompkins had said. "There is no real need to hurry; that is my car and driver down there, and they will wait as long as I want them to." He'd waited until Donna had seated herself, then took a seat opposite hers. "I know that you are wondering exactly why I arranged to take you in myself, instead of simply allowing Illinois Children's Services to place you in the ordinary way. I knew you would want an explanation. You deserve one, and you are old enough to understand what I am about to tell you. That is why I wanted to talk to you now, before we left here for my home."

She'd nodded.

"It is quite simple, Donna. In a way, you already know the answer." he'd continued, his dark eyes meeting hers. "You are not an ordinary young woman at all. In fact, you are a very special person. I knew as soon as I walked into that meeting room and saw you."

Donna'd gone pale. He was talking like he knew her secret. But that was impossible, no one did. She'd never gotten a chance to tell her mother--there'd been too much else for her mother to worry about without Donna herself adding to it, and she had not told anyone else about her strangeness. They might not have believed her anyway; thought her a liar, or crazy. She sometimes wasn't sure it wasn't the latter. No, he couldn't know. She decided playing ignorant was best--maybe he'd drop the subject. "I, um, don't understand," she had murmured nervously.

"I think you do. As a matter of fact, I know you do." he'd continued, relentlessly. "Donna, you are not like other people. You have a gift, a very special gift. I have come here to tell you you are not alone, and to help you. You do trust me, do you not?" he'd asked.

She had only been able to nod again, unable to break away from his dark eyes staring into hers like he could see right into her, read all her secrets. She remembered then the way he'd been looking at her during that first meeting. He must've guessed her secret then, but how could he have known?

"However, you do not understand these powers." he had said, in an almost paternal tone. "You cannot control them, either. That is what is making it even harder for you. I can see how frightened and confused you are. You have had to deal with all of that, on top of what has been happening with your mother.." he reached out and touched her hand, and surprisingly enough, she still couldn't feel him.

His eyes continued to hold hers. "You are wondering at this very moment why it is that you are not sensing my emotions, when you have not been able to block anyone else's. That is because I have the control to shield myself. You will learn how in time. You have to trust me, Donna. I can help you."

She'd wanted to trust him, that day, after what he'd done for her mother. "I said you were not alone, and you are not. There are others like you, with powers, abilities, that set them apart from ordinary people. I am one of them, and so is Christine."

He'd stretched out his other hand, palm up, so she could see. In that hand--she'd wondered if she was seeing things--a small glowing sphere of light began to form.

"That is only the smallest fraction of what I can do, Donna. I can sense the same gift in you, but it is undeveloped, untrained. With my help, and Christine's, you can be all you were born to be. We both have the gift, and we both want to help you."

* * * * * * * * * *

November, 1999...

She'd believed him. She'd so wanted to, that day. He'd been right, damn him--the powers she couldn't understand or control had frightened her. In a lot of ways they still did. Seeing what Tompkins and Christine did with their magic did not reassure her in the least about her own potential. Not only that, but looking back now on what he'd said then, it seemed more like that old children's poem about the spider and the fly. Only there were two spiders--Tompkins and Christine--and she was the fly.

She hadn't seen her mother since that day, either. She'd been allowed to write to her, that was all, but she had to be so very careful about what she said in her letters. She couldn't stand the thought of her mother knowing what was happening to her. Besides, if she did tell her mother what had been going on, eventually Tompkins would find out she'd done that, and what he would do then didn't bear thinking about. She was sure it wouldn't be anything good; Tompkins had established too much of a track record in that area for her to think anything else.

It had seemed so wonderful, the first several days she'd been in this house. She'd felt like a princess in a castle. Tompkins and Christine had bought her all new clothes, real expensive things her mother would never have been able to afford back in Illinois. They'd brought all her books and keepsakes from Illinois, too, when she'd asked.

Tompkins and Christine had both talked to her at length about her magic, too, and shown her some of the things they could do with theirs. It had both thrilled and frightened her; she was still afraid of what she might do unintentionally, but they'd said once they'd learned what they needed to about her talents, they'd know best how to teach her. It had sounded so logical, it had seemed to make such perfect sense at the time.

Then, too, there was the fact that while Tompkins had this house in Lloyd Harbor, he also kept a townhouse in New York City, and due to his business he spent a lot of time there. Which in turn meant that Donna also did, as he preferred to keep her close by him as much as possible.

Coming from a small town like Golconda, IL, life in a big city had been yet another major change for her and at first it, too, had seemed wonderful. So many things to see and do that she never would have had the chance to back home. Oh, they'd had the movie theatre, but in NYC there was also Broadway, the United Nations, and so many other things.

She had to admit enjoying those trips at first. Part of her still did, in a way--if only she hadn't had to be accompanied by Tompkins, Christine, or both. They'd never let her go anywhere alone, however. They told her that it was simply too dangerous for her, and after the way she'd spent those last few months in Golconda, nearly drowning in the emotions of people around her, she couldn't argue against that. Golconda was a small town; a city the size of New York would be unbearable.

She also hadn't known beforehand how painful their ways of learning about her magic would be, emotionally or physically. Though had she known, what else could she have done? Would the judge have listened to her if she'd refused Tompkins' offer of guardianship? Probably not, she sighed. Tompkins could pretty much buy any favor he wanted from the so called legal system. That was becoming clearer to her all the time.

Worse than that, never in a million years could she have suspected what was in store for her in other ways. She'd found that out on her third night in this house.

She'd been in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, when she'd heard a noise in her room. She'd come out to see Tompkins standing there, waiting for her.

She'd wondered what he was doing there. He'd sat down beside her bed, started talking to her in the same way he had at the court house that day.

Only then, he hadn't been talking so much about trust. "Donna," he'd said. "The court appointed me as your legal guardian. You understand what that means?"

"Yes." she'd said, uncertain where he was going with this.

"I am certain you do, but I am going to say it anyway," he'd continued. "It means I am supposed to provide for your basic needs-food, clothing, shelter--just as your mother would if she could. It also means I am responsible for your education. In every respect. Now, I have already given you my word that Christine and I will teach you how to control and use your magical gifts. That will begin sometime in the next few days; she has certain preparations she needs to make. I, too, must adjust my schedule to make time for this. However, it will be quite soon, I promise you. As for the matter of your academics, I think it best for you to have a private tutor. I have already made arrangements for one to come here, starting next Monday."

"I..I thought I'd be going to school. Like I did back in Illinois." she'd said slowly, uncertainly.

"You are not at all ready for that, Donna. You remember how it was at your old school--you told us about that. Would you go back to drowning in the emotions of children, of a horde of ignorant rabble who do not understand how special you really are? No. You deserve better than that, and I would be remiss in my duties if I were to allow that. As for a private school, that, sadly enough, would not be much better. For all that the students would be of a much better class, they, too, would bombard you with emotions you are not yet able to shield yourself from."

Donna had had to agree, there. She had had a respite from those overwhelming sensations since coming to live here, but she knew that the only reason for that was because Tompkins and Christine were using their own magics to protect her.

"There is, however, one more thing," Tompkins went on. "You are old enough to learn this, too." Then he'd touched her cheek, ever so gently, yet that simple contact had sent chills through her. She'd suddenly had a bad feeling about this. What was he getting at?

"Mr. Tompkins..." she had started to say.

"When anyone else is around, you will continue to call me that." he said firmly. "Here and now, though, with just the two of us...you may call me Nathan."

"OK, um...Nathan...what are you saying?" The gist of this conversation was completely lost on her, but that bad feeling was getting stronger; though she still couldn't make out what it meant.

His hand came down, to her shoulder, where he slowly began to slide down the collar of her nightdress.

She was too surprised to do anything as he suddenly pulled her close against him into a kiss. Full on the lips. Not as a father would--but as a lover.

When he drew back, she was still in shock, staring at him, unable to believe what he had just done.

"Donna, do not look at me like that. This is part of what you have to learn, and it is, as I said, my responsibility to teach you." he'd continued.

She'd started to scramble away, thinking of getting out of the bed at least, that'd give her a chance to escape--but it wasn't to be. His arms shot out and pinned her to the bed.

She tried to struggle, but he was older and stronger.

"Do not make me hurt you, Donna, not now. This is not meant to hurt. You are almost a woman," he said as he continued to hold her down and force her panties downward despite all her efforts to break away. "and you have to learn what women do."

Then his hand was between her legs, forcing them apart.

She couldn't keep from crying out--oh, why didn't one of the servants hear? a part of her mind wondered dimly as her world shrunk down to his face looming over hers. Then his lips pressed against hers, and there was a sharp pain as his manhood found its way into her innermost places.

It seemed to go on forever, his pushing harder and harder--and despite herself, she found her body was responding, which didn't make her feel any better about what was happening.

Then the explosion came--and it was over.

She felt filthy, disgusting--something was all over her where he had been.

"It is all right, Donna. It is just as it should be," Tompkins had said. "This is only because it was your first time, it will not hurt like this again. This is your first lesson in the ways of women. It is enough for tonight. Later on, I will be back to teach you even more pleasurable things. You will come to enjoy this, in time. Women always do." He'd touched her cheek again, smiling in a way that now, remembering it, made her shiver every time she'd seen it. That night, however, had been the first time she'd seen that look on his face.

With that, he pulled up his pants and left, leaving her there to clean herself up on her own.

That had been the first time she'd scrubbed herself raw and still felt dirty afterward. It had only ended up being the first of many such times, as it had turned out.

She even learned why none of the servants seemed to have overheard. They had; she was sure some of them had, if they'd been working in the area near her room during the time Tompkins had been there. However, every last one of them was too afraid of 'the master' to interrupt him. If any of them had seen him going into Donna's room, they all knew better than to even wonder, much less ask, why. You didn't ask Nathan Tompkins for an explanation of anything. Ever. That was rule number one in this house, and rule number two was you didn't ask Christine Benson for explanations either. If Nathan was the master, she was the mistress, though they weren't actually married.