Author's Notes: Italics indicate thought-speak.

She felt the link knit together and knew what she must do: she must build her walls. No way was she going to let her innermost thoughts be privy to a bunch of hormonally poisoned teenagers. She built her walls carefully, directing the streams of thought like water through channels, until at last she had it all sealed nice and tight.

It would be simply enough to find the kids; thanks to the link, she already knew everything she needed to know about them. The trouble was how was she going to get the crystals from them? She couldn't very well go up to them and start babbling about crystals and mythical beasts; they'd think she was out of her head. She also couldn't fight dirty and take their crystals while they slept. The rules were very clear: she could not use the crystals' powers unless she bested them in battle or if they surrendered them to her of their own free will. This gave her a little comfort: after all, the enemy too, was bound by the same rules as she. But she placed little faith in the enemy's ability to follow rules. After all, they may very well decide to just butcher them like pigs and take the crystals solely to keep anyone else from using them. It would be just like them to do so and if she had thought of it, so had they. She had better find the kids quick.

She sighed as she thought of the kids, out there living their normal lives, little knowing how much danger they were in. "Be careful," she whispered, as she drove all over town.

It came to him first. Julian sat in math class, listening to the teacher. At first he took notes and tried to follow along, but after awhile he became aware of something, like a steady drone or a hum. At first it was barely noticeable but after awhile it became louder and louder. He could feel something happening inside his something stirring, something opening up. Then the noise began.

ManIcan'tbelieveDucardgaveushomeworkonthefirstdayIhopeMoralesgivesmefirstchairI'vebeenpracticingall summer.

On and on, a constant stream of words, words, words. Constant voices chattering in his head. He could not hear anything else over the din of it.

He clutched his ears as he looked around the room, his head throbbing from listening to so much speech. No one else seemed bothered by it. They were listening and/or alternately, pretending to listen to the teacher. Where was this noise coming from? Was there a speaker hidden in the room?

CheckoutthatblondeinthethirdrowIhopeIdookayinpracticeGreatmoredatestomemorizeCouldhistorybeanymoreboring

He gritted his teeth. So much noise, noise, noise. Finally he couldn't handle it anymore and ran out of the room. Part of the perks of being his father's son meant that he was forever the bad kid, so he was able to slip out of the room without being stopped.

He ran down the hallway and shut himself inside the boys' room. He grabbed onto one of the sinks and started washing his face as though he could wash out whatever was in his head. He stared at himself in the mirror, the water dripping from his face. Okay, get a grip, he thought. There must be a logical explanation for all this. Low blood sugar, the aftereffects of the cafeteria meatloaf, anything...Anything except the most obvious explanation: he was going crazy.

He knew it was bound to happen. Given that his father was crazy as a loon and his mother was never the most balanced of individuals, craziness wasn't just written into his genetic code, it was engraved. He supposed he was fated to go crazy but still his mind reeled at the injustice of it all. "Couldn't it have waited until I was twenty-one, so I could at least drink?" He moaned and hit his head against the mirror.

If he sat and listened long enough, he could discern a pattern to the voices. He knew two of them, Hayden Crenshaw and Marcus Hawkins. They had been in at least one of his classes since kindergarten, though what they were doing in his head, he didn't know. There was also a woman's voice—he could not identify her except to say that she was a woman. He tried to follow her stream of thought in hopes of identifying her, but whenever he came close, a cold wall kept him at bay.

There was also a fourth voice and this one frightened him the most. It was an ancient voice, of someone very long lived, someone as old as time, but there was also a distinctly feral, beastly tinge to it. It spoke to him. Julian... That was all it said, that was all it took before he felt his world shatter beneath him, and he blacked out.

He woke hours later when school was over. He groaned as he clutched his head. His head throbbed from lying on the cold, tile floor. He checked his watch. It was past time to pick up his brother from school. He scrambled to his feet and headed for the doors, the voices still echoing in his head. Maybe he was going crazy, but he was still sane enough to know it; the question was what to do now? Well for now, he was going to do what he had to do. He had too many responsibilities to turn his back on just because he's going crazy.

He found Jake waiting for him at the elementary school, just like he was supposed to. He grabbed Jake and took him home, pretending all the way to listen to Jake's birdlike chatter about school. When he got home, the apartment was empty. He slung his stuff on the couch and made his way to the fridge. Taped to the fridge was a note, scrawled in his mother's loopy handwriting.

"Dear Julian," It read. "Mama is going to be working late tonight. Please take care of yourself and your brother. Love, Mama."

He sighed. Of all the nights, she had to be gone. Oh well. He reached into the pantry and started on Mac and Cheese. Maybe after dinner, everything will make sense.

It was the dead of night when he heard his cell go off. Marcus groaned and rolled out of bed. Not that he had been able to get much sleep anyway, but still the shrillness of the phone threw him off guard and with all the noise in head, it was like jabbing daggers at his skull. He picked it up. "Who is it?" He moaned.

"Didn't you check the caller ID? It's me, Hayden."

"Oh." He didn't know whether to be reassured or dismayed by the sound of his voice. Right now, all Marcus wanted more than anything in the world was peace and quiet. So what's this all about? He felt the thought slip through his hands like a silver fish, down a long braided path.

"I was just hoping I could talk to you about, well, everything." Marcus blanched. Hayden had heard him but how?

"I'm not entirely sure either. I heard it in my head."

"Will you stop doing that? It's really freaking me out."

"Sorry, but I can't. I keep hearing your thoughts and someone else's thoughts and the thoughts of that Daniels's kid and this whole thing is really starting to cheese me off."

Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. So he wasn't alone. Maybe he was going crazy but at least he wasn't going crazy alone. "What do you think is happening to us?"

"I don't know," Hayden said. "I feel different, though. Something's happening to us but I'm not exactly sure what."

"Have you told your mom?"

"No. I don't want her to think I'm crazy. I mean I know this all sounds crazy, but I don't feel crazy. Though maybe that's just what a crazy person would say."

"I know what you mean, Hayden. I didn't tell mine either for the exact same reason. I don't want to find myself living like the guys in One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest." There was a long pause. "So what do we do?" Hayden asked.

"I don't know; I haven't thought that far." Merely getting through the day had seemed like enough of an accomplishment to Marcus.

"You know what I think? I think we need to pump that Julian kid for some answers."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I hear his stupid voice in my head and because we all know his old man was involved in some pretty freaky shit back in the day. Maybe he knows something."

"And maybe he's as clueless as the rest of us."

"But we can't rule out the possibility that he knows something. Maybe this is some sick kind of Daniels family joke he's pulling, in which case, we'll kick his ass back to next week."

"Let's not approach it like that." Marcus had never been one for conflict, even though Julian Daniels gave him the creeps. "Look, we'll just go up to him and ask a few questions, find out if he knows anything. If he does, fine. If not, then I guess we are crazy as loons."

"Can we play good cop, bad cop, with him? If so, I call dibs on being the bad cop."

"Hayden, for the last time, we are not playing good cop, bad cop. We're just going to approach him friendly and go from there."

"Okay, I guess." There was a long pause in which the only sound was of them breathing and the voices chattering in their heads. "Hey Marcus?"

"What?"

"Did you find anything strange in your backpack?"

"Strange how?"

"Just humour me and check."

Marcus sighed as he rummaged in the dark for his backpack. Once he found it, he began digging through the front pockets. As he dug through his pens and pencils, he felt his hand come upon something cold. He pulled it out and turned on his bedside light to check it.

It was a lump of blue crystal attached to a gold chain. He turned, studying it over and over again in the dim light. What the heck is going on here?

"I really don't know," Hayden said. "Either this is some seriously elaborate practical joke or something serious is at work here. I'm not sure which."

"So what did you find?"

"Same as you, a crystal, except mine was yellow. I found it on the dash of my car and I know I didn't put it there."

Marcus rubbed his thumb against the crystal. There was power hidden in it; he could feel it at work. But whether it was good or bad, he couldn't say. "Hayden, what's happening to us?"

"I don't know. As cliché, as it sounds, I just don't know."