Secret Circle - The Captive Part 12

"If anyone's to blame," Diana was going on, "it's me. I'm the coven leader; it was my decision to use the skull in the ceremony. If the dark energy that knocked Faye over went out and killed Mr. Fogle and Jeffrey afterward, it's my fault."

"No, it isn't," Ca.s.sie said. She couldn't stand any more. "It's mine-or at least it's everybody's ..."

Adam looked from one girl to the other, then burst into strained laughter and dropped his head into his hand.

"Look at us," he said. "Trying to clear each other and each take the blame ourselves. What a joke."

"Pretty pathetic," Diana agreed, trying to smile.

Ca.s.sie was fighting tears.

"I think we'd better stop thinking about whose fault it is, and start thinking about what to do," Adam went

on. "If the dark energy that escaped at the ceremony killed both Mr. Fogle and Jeffrey, it may still be out

there. It may do something else. We need to think about ways to stop it."

They talked for several hours after that. Adam thought they should search for the dark energy, maybe do some scrying around the graveyard. Diana thought they should continue combing all the Books of Shadows, even the most indecipherable ones, to see if there was any advice about dealing with evil like this, and to learn more about the skull.

"And about Black John, too," Ca.s.sie suggested mechanically, and Diana and Adam agreed. Black John

had used the skull in the beginning, had "programmed" it. Perhaps his intentions were still affecting it.But all the time they were talking, Ca.s.sie was feeling-outside. Alienated. Adam and Diana really weregood, she thought, watching them talk fervently, fired with the discussion. They really had acted with thebest of intentions. She, Ca.s.sie, was different. She was-evil.

Ca.s.sie knew things that they didn't know. Things she could never tell them.

Diana was nice when the time came for Ca.s.sie to go. "Adam had better drive you home," she said.

Adam did. They didn't speak until they reached Ca.s.sie's house.

"How're you hanging on?" he said quietly then.

Ca.s.sie couldn't look at him. She had never wanted comfort more, never wanted to throw herself into his

arms as much as she did now. She wanted to tell him the whole story about Faye and the skull, and listen to him say that it was all right, that she didn't have to face it alone. She wanted him to hold her.

She could feel him wanting that too, just inches away in the driver's seat.

"I'd better go inside," she said shakily.

Adam was gripping the steering wheel so hard it looked as if he were trying to break it.

"Good night," she said softly, still without looking at him.

There was a long, long pause while she felt Adam fight with himself. Then he said, "Good night, Ca.s.sie,"

in a voice drained of all energy.

Ca.s.sie went inside. She couldn't talk to her mother or her grandmother about this either, of course. She

could just imagine it: "Hi, Mom; you remember Jeffrey Lovejoy? Well, I helped kill him." No, thank you.

It was a strange thought, knowing you were evil. It floated around in Ca.s.sie's mind as she lay in bed thatnight, and just before she fell asleep it got weirdly mixed up with visions of Faye's honey-colored eyes.Wicked, she could almost hear Faye chuckling throatily. You're not evil, you're just wicked . . . like me.The dream started out beautifully. She was in her grandmother's garden, in the summer, when everything was blossoming. Lemon balm spilled a golden pool on the ground. Lavender, lily of the valley, and

jasmine were throwing such sweet scents into the air that Ca.s.sie felt giddy.

Ca.s.sie bent to snap off a stem of honeysuckle, with its tiny, creamy flowerheads. The sun shone down, warming her shoulders. The sky was clear and s.p.a.cious. Strangely, although this was her grandmother's garden, there was no house nearby. She was all alone in the bright sunshine.

Then she saw the roses.

They were huge, velvety, red as rubies. No roses like that grew wild. Ca.s.sie took a step toward them,

then another. Dew stood in the curl of one of the rose petals, quivering slightly. Ca.s.sie wanted to smell one of them, but she was afraid.

She heard a throaty chuckle beside her.

"Faye!"

Faye smiled slowly. "Go ahead, smell them," she said. "They won't bite you." But Ca.s.sie shook her head.

Her heart was beating quickly.

"Oh, come on, Ca.s.sie." Faye's voice was coaxing now. "Look over there. Doesn't that look interesting?"

Ca.s.sie looked. Behind the roses something impossible had happened. Night had fallen, even though it

was still daylight where Ca.s.sie was standing. It was a cool black-and-purple night, broken by stars but

not a trace of moon.

"Come with me, Ca.s.sie," Faye coaxed again. "It's just a few little steps. I'll show you how easy it is." She walked behind the rosebush and Ca.s.sie stared at her. Faye was standing in darkness now, her face shadowed, her glorious hair merging with the gloom.

"You might as well," Faye told her softly, inexorably. "After all, you're already like me- or had you

forgotten? You've already made your choice."

Ca.s.sie's hand let the honeysuckle spray fall. Slowly, slowly, she reached out and picked one of the roses.

It was such a deep red, and so soft.

Ca.s.sie stared down into it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Faye murmured. "Now bring it here."

Mesmerized, Ca.s.sie took a step. There was a line of wavering shadow on the ground, between the

darkness and the day. Ca.s.sie took another step and a sudden sharp pain in her finger made her gasp.

The rose had p.r.i.c.ked her. Blood was streaming down her wrist. All the thorns on the roses were crimson, as if they'd been dipped in blood.

Appalled, she looked up at Faye, but she saw only darkness and heard only that mocking chuckle.

"Maybe next time," Faye's voice floated out of the shadows.

Ca.s.sie woke up with her heart pounding, eyes staring into the blackness of her room. When she turned

the light on, she almost expected to see blood on her arm. But there was no blood, and no mark of any thorn on her finger.

Thank G.o.d, she thought. It was a dream, just a dream. Still, it was a long time before she could fall

asleep again.

She woke again to the ringing of the phone.

By the color of the light against the eastern window she knew she'd slept late.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"h.e.l.lo, Ca.s.sie," a familiar voice said in her ear.

Ca.s.sie's heart jumped. Instantly the entire dream flashed before her. In a panic, she expected Faye to

start talking throatily about roses and darkness.But Faye's voice was ordinary. "It's Sat.u.r.day, Ca.s.sie. Do you have any plans for tonight?""Uh...no. But-""Because Deborah and Suzan and I are having a little get-together. We thought you might like to come.""Faye ... I thought you were mad at me."Faye laughed. "I was a little-miffed, yes. But that's over now. I'm proud of your success with the guys. It just shows you what a little witchery will do, hmm?"

Ca.s.sie ignored this; she'd had a sudden thought. "Faye, if you're planning to use the skull again, forget it.

Do you want to know how dangerous it is?" She started to tell Faye what she'd discovered in the WitchDungeon, but Faye interrupted."Oh, who cares about the skull anymore?"she said. "This is a party. So we'll see you at around eight, then, all right? You will show up, won't you, Ca.s.sie? Because there might be- unfortunate consequences if you didn't. 'Bye!"

Deborah and Suzan will be there, Ca.s.sie told herself as she walked up to Faye's house that night. They won't let Faye actually kill me. The thought gave her some comfort.

And Faye, when she opened the door, seemed less sinister than usual. Her golden eyes were glimmering

with something like mischief and her smile was almost playful.

"Come in, Ca.s.sie. Everybody's in the den," she said.

Ca.s.sie could hear music as they approached a room off the entrance hall. It was furnished in the same

opulent and luxurious style as the rest of the house. Noise from a huge TV was competing with some song by Madonna being blasted out of a magnificent stereo unit. With all this technology, the dozens of candles stuck in various kinds of holders around the room seemed incongruous.

"Turn that stuff down," Faye ordered. Suzan, pouting, pointed a remote control at the stereo, while Deborah muted the TV. Apparently Faye had forgiven them as well.

"Now," Faye said, with a feline smile at Ca.s.sie, "I'll explain. The housekeeper has the day off, and my mother is sick in bed-"