The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection

by L. J. Smith

  “No, thank you,” he said, in a voice both rugged and cocky. “I know where I’m heading.”

  “To that boring assembly?” Faye wasn’t about to give up that easy. “In that case, I can help you lose your way.”

  That got a smile out of him, but he directed it at Cassie. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Max.”

  “This is Faye,” Cassie said, returning Max’s grin. “She’s glad to meet you.”

  Max dropped his gym bag onto the floor and shook Faye’s hand in a way that made it obvious he was used to girls fawning over him.

  “Cassie,” Faye said, still holding Max’s thick hand in hers. “Won’t Adam be waiting for you at the assembly? You should probably get going.”

  Cassie nodded. “She’s right. I should.”

  As Cassie turned away, she heard Max call after her, “See you in there.”

  Cassie made it into the auditorium just in time for the welcoming ceremony. She was relieved to find Adam waving her over to where he was seated in the last row. The auditorium was more crowded than she had ever seen it. Groups of students were crammed in the back and up each exit row. The humming excitement Cassie picked up on in the hallway had carried over here, where it heightened like rough water constrained by a dam. But once Mr. Humphries tapped on the microphone to quiet the crowd and make some announcements, that restless energy died down to a low-level boredom. Assemblies were always fun until the assembly part.

  Cassie let her eyes roam over the crowd. She found Diana all the way up front, seated with her AP English class. Melanie and Laurel had joined Suzan, Sean, and the Henderson brothers in the center rows about midway from the stage. And Deborah and Nick were just a few rows behind them. Cassie noticed that none of them looked concerned. They appeared as bored and apathetic as the rest of the school. Was she the only one still reeling from the last assembly they had to welcome a principal? Were they all just faking it, trying to put their best faces forward? Or was everyone really that much better at moving on than Cassie?

  Sally Waltman and Portia Bainbridge were sitting in their cluster of cheerleaders. Sally’s rust-colored hair stood out from the rest of her mostly blonde friends, so she was easy to spot in their crowd. She was laughing at something Portia was saying, probably making fun of someone, like she always did. The Circle had come to an uneasy truce with Portia and her brothers, but Cassie still didn’t like her.

  “You okay?” Adam asked when Cassie settled into her seat. “You’ve got that I-just-had-a-Faye-encounter look.”

  “I’m fine. Faye was getting up in my face, but then a hot boy walked by, and she forgot all about me.”

  “That’s our Faye.” Adam took Cassie’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Who was the boy?”

  “I don’t know, someone new. His name was Max.”

  Cassie searched the auditorium for Faye and found her standing in the corner talking to Max—talking at him was more like it. He leaned with both hands on his lacrosse stick, like he might fall over from boredom if it weren’t holding him up.

  Cassie shifted her attention to the man she assumed was the new principal waiting off to the side. He wore a finely cut dark suit and had salt-and-pepper hair. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and kept his hands clasped behind his back. He was handsome, the way Mr. Brunswick had been handsome.

  Weak applause welcomed him to the stage. “Thank you,” he said, as he adjusted the microphone. “I’m Mr. Boylan, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  His voice was deeper than Cassie had expected it to be. His outer appearance was dapper and elegant, but he had the voice of a lumberjack—it had a toughness to it, a grit, and the slightest hint of an accent she couldn’t place.

  A shiver ran down her spine.

  No, Cassie thought to herself. You’re being paranoid. Just because Mr. Brunswick turned out to be evil doesn’t mean Mr. Boylan will. She figured she must have been suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress, the way soldiers returned from wars startled at every harmless loud sound they heard.

  But as Mr. Boylan continued speaking, every muscle in Cassie’s body tightened in defense. She glanced at Adam to see if he sensed anything off about the principal, too, but he was calmly watching the stage with no expression of alarm.

  “Thank you all for your gracious welcome,” Mr. Boylan said. “I hope you’ll do the same for my son, who will also be a student here.” He pointed to the far corner, where Max was still leaning on his lacrosse stick, staring straight ahead.

  Adam and Cassie looked at each other simultaneously. Neither of them had to say it.

  Of course. Faye’s new crush was the principal’s son.

  Faye was smirking behind him, watching the back of his head as if she could burn a hole through it with her desire. When she caught Cassie watching, she puckered her lips into a kiss and blew it Cassie’s way. Then she stuck out her tongue, pretending she might lick the back of Max’s neck.

  “This can’t be good,” Cassie said.

  Chapter 4

  As she walked home from school that afternoon, Cassie finally had a moment to herself to think. Diana and some of the others were going into town to shop for spring festival outfits. You need a spring dress for the spring festival, Suzan had insisted when Cassie said she was feeling too tired to shop. But Diana interjected on Cassie’s behalf, saying if she was tired it was best to rest.

  Did that mean Diana didn’t really want her there? Cassie wished she was feeling more confident about her friendship with Diana, but it seemed out of sorts, just like everything right now.

  Cassie decided to walk the longer, more scenic route home along Cherry Hill Road, where rows of Kwanzan and dwarf bing cherry trees would be on the brink of blooming. It was a blustery March day, and the sound of the wind in the trees was her favorite. She stopped walking for a moment to look up at their leaves, to watch them shake and dance overhead until she was dizzy.

  “This is my turf,” a voice behind her said.

  She glanced around and saw a black leather jacket and black jeans.

  “Nick,” she said. “I walked this way to be alone, so maybe you’re on my turf.” She was trying to sound playfully sarcastic. Then she immediately ruined it by adding, “But it’s really nice to run into you.”

  She noticed him shift uncomfortably at the sappy comment, but more of the same started sputtering from her mouth. “It’s just . . . we’ve hardly gotten to talk lately,” she said. “And we never hang out anymore.”

  Nick’s face appeared cold. No smile, not even a hint of one. He obviously didn’t feel the same way. He looked away and patted his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. Then he remembered he’d quit, so he stopped patting and stood still.

  “I miss you, Nick,” Cassie heard herself say. And she immediately wished it hadn’t come out sounding so needy and pathetic.

  Nick had been this way—aloof and closed off—since Cassie and Adam got together. The rational part of her brain knew he was only shutting her out because he’d been hurt, but the other part of her brain, the irrational part, didn’t care at all about that and just wanted him back in her life.

  She touched the soft leather of his jacket and asked, as innocently as she could, “Don’t you miss me at all?”

  A pang of agony shot across his face, like she’d stabbed him in the stomach with a sharp knife.

  “Cassie,” he said.

  He was about to say something important. She could tell by the gentle tone of his voice and the way he was struggling to find the right words. It was so difficult for him to express his emotions that to watch him working so hard at it now made Cassie’s heart melt a little. This was the tender side of Nick not many people had access to.

  “Cassie, listen,” he said.

  But just then Adam drove up, honking his horn. “Hey, you two,” he called out. “Want a ride?”

  Shoot. What terrible timing. She and Nick were finally getting somewhere.

  But the moment was lost. Nick’s face, which
had opened itself up briefly, closed again, tighter and more secure than a vault.

  “Do you want a ride home?” Cassie feebly asked him.

  The sight of her with Adam was the last thing Nick needed, and Cassie knew it. “I’ll pass,” he said, with the coldest voice he could muster. “But you’d better go,” he added, when he noticed Cassie’s hesitation. “Your chariot awaits.”

  Cassie was torn. For a split second she imagined their alternate future, the one where Adam didn’t pull up, where she and Nick talked the whole long walk home beneath a canopy of trees. She didn’t want to let this possibility go. But she knew not to push Nick too far. After all, her loyalties were to Adam, and they always would be.

  Nick started shuffling away in the opposite direction of home. Cassie rushed to catch up with him and whispered into his ear. “You may have earned the right to wallow a bit,” she said. “But I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

  Then she jogged back to Adam’s car, opened the door, and climbed inside.

  The interior of Adam’s car always smelled the same. It was the sweet musk of autumn leaves and gasoline, oiled leather and rubber, and it never failed to make Cassie feel a charge.

  Adam looked her over, analyzing every inch of her face with his piercing blue eyes. “I thought you were going out dress shopping with the girls.”

  “I didn’t feel like it.”

  He rested his warm hand on her knee. “Cassie, are you sure everything’s okay?”

  She gazed out the window and didn’t answer.

  “Was Nick giving you a hard time back there?”

  “What? No, of course not. If anything, I was giving him a hard time, trying to get him to be my friend again.”

  Adam returned his hand to the steering wheel and gripped it so tightly, his knuckles whitened. “He needs time.”

  “I know.”

  Cassie watched the more ordinary streets of New Salem give way to Crowhaven Road and decided to change the subject.

  “Did you get a weird feeling from the new principal today?” she asked.

  “No, why? Did you?”

  “Kind of, but I’m not sure,” Cassie said honestly. “I think I want to ask Constance about it. Maybe she knows a spell or something that can show us his true nature.”

  Adam tried to suppress a smile. “I think you’re being a little paranoid, Cassie. Rightfully so, after all we’ve been through. But honestly, the only thing I found freaky about the principal is that Faye is into his son.”

  “I know, you’re probably right.” Cassie returned her gaze out the window. She noticed a black sedan behind theirs and strained to see if it was one of their friends. Not too many cars had a reason to turn onto Crowhaven Road.

  “Cassie,” Adam said. “Listen to me. Black John isn’t haunting us anymore. He’s gone. We won.”

  In spite of all of Adam’s sensitivity, it bothered Cassie that he still glossed over the fact that Black John, though evil, was her father. Whenever Adam mentioned him, it was always, He’s gone, gone forever—which of course was a good thing, but Adam could at least acknowledge that his death was confusing for her.

  “I think I’d still like to go see Constance,” she said. “Will you drop me off there, please?”

  Adam got quiet then, which meant he had the sense to know he’d said something to upset Cassie.

  They were just about at Constance’s house now, so he let up on the accelerator and slowed to a stop. Cassie noticed the black car behind them also stopped. It then made a sharp U-turn and headed back to the main road. Weird, she thought.

  At first no one answered her knock, but then Cassie saw Constance’s gray head of hair appear in the front window. She waved her birdlike hand at Cassie and then opened the door.

  “Are you here to see Melanie?” she asked. “She’s not home from school yet.”

  “Actually, Aunt Constance, I came to talk to you.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?” She led Cassie across the spotless hardwood floor to the parlor, where she’d been having tea.

  Cassie had grown quite comfortable in this house since her mother had stayed there when she was ill. It was similar to Cassie’s own home, but in much better shape. The walls were freshly painted, the silver was polished to a shine, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. The parlor smelled like the oil soap used to clean wood.

  Constance refilled her willow-patterned teacup and poured a cup for Cassie. Then she sat back in her large rocking chair. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Cassie said. “I guess I just came to ask your advice.”

  “About what?” Constance was thin and regal, but she looked almost childlike, rocking back and forth in her chair.

  “I’ve been feeling kind of uneasy lately,” Cassie said.

  Constance stopped the rocking and rested her feet flat on the floor. “You’ll have to be more specific if advice is what you want, dear.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m really trying.” Cassie set her teacup down. “I guess part of it is that I know I should be happy. The Circle defeated Black John, and my mother is well again. And I have Adam, who loves me very much.”

  “But?”

  “But I can’t seem to relax.” Cassie leaned in close to Constance and began speaking more softly. “Like today, when our new principal was introduced. I started to feel all shaky, right there at the assembly. I know it wasn’t about him, but how do I know, or how can I tell. . . . Oh, I don’t know.”

  “How can you tell the difference between instinct and anxiety?” Constance smiled.

  Cassie nodded.

  “There’s only one way,” Constance said. “Years of practice. That’s one of the biggest challenges of having the sight.”

  She leaned back in her chair and appeared lost in her own thoughts for a moment. Then her thin red lips formed a smile.

  “Your grandmother was the same way,” she said. “What you call nervous. If you only knew how many times she woke me up from a sound sleep, crying about a bad omen that turned out to be indigestion.”

  Constance started laughing so hard, tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She reached for a tissue and patted them away before she went on. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make light of it. But it’ll get easier with time, Cassie, you can be sure of that.”

  “So what you’re saying is there’s no magic way to know for sure who’s good and who’s evil, no spell to test the principal’s true nature?”

  Constance resisted the urge to start laughing again. “Honey, if only that spell did exist, it would have been the first one I showed you.” She looked at Cassie lovingly. “Unfortunately, there’s no shortcut to peace of mind.”

  When Cassie made no reply, wrinkled lines appeared between Constance’s eyebrows. “Practice your daily meditations and your invocations,” she said. “Cultivate tranquility as best you can.”

  It was simple advice, but Cassie left Constance’s house feeling just a little bit lighter.

  Chapter 5

  When Cassie arrived at Old Town Hall, the sun was shining down on the carnival as booths and tables were being set up for the evening’s festivities. She searched for her mom among the volunteers so she could help her put up the decorations they’d finally finished making late last night.

  Old Town Hall was one of the earliest municipal buildings in New Salem. When it had been in use, it housed all the town’s federal offices. The surrounding area was designed to be an outdoor market, but these days it was mostly used as a public art space and, of course, to host yearly spring and fall festivals.

  “Hey, Cassie.” Laurel appeared carrying a tray of tulip bulbs that was nearly twice her size. She dropped it onto a nearby table and waved a few sweaty strands of hair away from her pixielike face. “Are you psyched for tonight’s festival?”

  “Sure,” Cassie said unconvincingly.

  “Well, you should be,” Laurel said. “The spring equinox is important to us as witches.” She loo
ked to her left and then to her right to be sure nobody had heard her. And then, as Cassie expected, she launched into a history lesson. History and botany lessons were pretty much mandatory when talking to Laurel. You either loved her for it or you had the urge to tape her mouth shut, but for now Cassie humored her.

  “Like many traditions in New Salem, the origin of the spring festival has roots in paganism,” Laurel said. “This festival used to be called Ostara’s Festival, and it was a holiday to celebrate the Goddess waking from her winter slumber. It was a time when our ancestors honored the balance of all things, the physical with the spiritual. The old books said it was a time to plant seeds in the garden, as well as a time to plant the seeds of desired manifestation.”

  “But what does that mean?” Cassie asked.

  “It means it’s a time to start new projects and put new plans into action.” Laurel picked up her tray with a grunt and began to walk away. “It’s something to get excited about,” she said over her shoulder.

  Cassie let her eyes wander around the square. In every booth was a local merchant offering samples of food or drink, or the chance to bid on some item up for auction. Local bands were setting up their equipment on a ramshackle stage. The whole event had simply become a backdrop for the kickoff of the tourist season. But still, Cassie thought she should embrace it. It was a celebration of sorts, like Laurel said.

  Cassie found her mother on the far side of the square, stapling paper daffodils along a wooden baseboard. Across from her, Cassie saw Melanie and Constance setting up their jewelry booth. Melanie’s smooth cap of chestnut hair was pulled neatly back, while Constance’s gray mane feathered madly in the wind. They were quite a pair; Melanie was tall and beautiful and prepossessing, and Constance was shrunken and slumped over, bossily calling out commands with her wrinkled pointer finger. But the love and compassion between them was palpable, and the jewelry they designed was a physical product of that love. Melanie had told Cassie that the local townspeople didn’t have a real understanding of crystals, but that didn’t matter. Their jewelry made for pretty conversation pieces, and Aunt Constance really appreciated the extra cash.