The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection: The Initiation and The Captive Part I, The Captive Part II and The Power, The Divide, The Hunt, The Temptation

by L. J. Smith

  Diana took a burning stick out of the fire and moved to stand in front of Cassie, who was seated at the southernmost edge of the circle. Waving the stick over Cassie’s head, she said, “Now I’m calling on the Watchtower of the South. Powers of Fire, protect us!”

  She didn’t need to say, think of fire. Cassie could already feel the heat radiating on her back, could picture the pillar of flame bursting up behind her. It raced around like sparks across gunpowder, to form a circle of wildfire just outside the circle of wind.

  It’s not real, Cassie reminded herself. They’re just symbols we’re visualizing. But they were awfully concrete-looking symbols.

  Diana moved again. Dipping her fingers in a paper cup, she sprinkled water across the western perimeter, between Sean and Deborah. “I’m calling on the Watchtower of the West. Powers of Water, protect us!”

  It surged up, a phantom glass-green wave, cresting higher and higher. The swell flowed around to encompass the circle with a wall of water.

  Lastly, Diana moved north, facing Adam and scattering salt across the northern line. “Watchtower of the North,” she said, in a voice that wavered slightly and showed how much this was taking out of her. “Powers of Earth, protect us!”

  The ground rumbled beneath them.

  It caught Cassie off guard, and the rest of the group was even more startled than she was. They weren’t used to earthquakes here in New England, but Cassie was a native Californian. She saw that Sean was about to jump up.

  “Deborah, get Sean!” she cried.

  In an instant, the biker girl had grabbed Sean and was forcibly holding him from running. The tremors became more and more violent—and then with a sound like a thunderclap, the ground split. A chasm opened all around the circle, spewing up a strong, sulfurous smell.

  It isn’t real. It isn’t real, Cassie reminded herself. But surrounding her she saw the phantoms of the four elements Diana had invoked, layered one after another. A circle of raging wind, then a ring of fire, then a wall of seawater, and finally a chasm in the earth. Nothing from the outside could pass those boundaries—and Cassie wouldn’t like to bet on anything from the inside getting out safely, either.

  Shakily, Diana walked over to sit down in her place between Nick and Faye. “Okay,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Now we all concentrate on the fire. Look into it and let the night do the rest. Let’s see if anything comes to talk to us.”

  Cassie’s eyes shifted to Melanie, beside her. “But if we’re protected from everything outside, who’s going to be able to come talk to us?” she murmured.

  “Something from here,” Melanie whispered back, looking down at the barren earth inside the circle. Inside the foundations of the house.

  “Oh.”

  Cassie gazed into the flames, trying to clear her mind, to be open to whatever might be trying to cross the veil between the invisible world and this one. Tonight was the night, and now was the time.

  The fire began smoking.

  Just a little at first, as if the wood were damp. But then the smoke got darker—still transparent, but blacker. It streamed upward and hung in a cloudy mass above the bonfire.

  Then it began to change.

  It was twisting, swelling, like thunderheads rolling together. As Cassie stared, her breath clogging in her throat, it began to mold itself, to form a shape.

  A man-shape.

  It seemed to develop from the top down, and it was wearing old-fashioned clothes, like something out of a history book. A hat with a high crown and a stiff brim. A cloak or cape which hung down from broad shoulders, and a wide, severe linen collar. Breeches tied below the knees. Cassie thought she could make out square-toed shoes, but at times the lower legs just dwindled into the smoke of the fire. One thing she noticed, the smoke never actually detached from the fire, it always remained connected by a thin trail.

  The figure floated there motionless except for eddies within itself.

  Then it drifted toward Cassie.

  She was the one who seemed to be facing it straight on. A sudden thought came into her mind. When Adam had first taken the crystal skull out of his backpack on the beach, it had seemed to be looking directly at her. And again—at the skull ceremony, she remembered. When Diana had pulled the cloth off the skull then, those hollow eyesockets had seemed to be staring right into Cassie’s eyes.

  Now this thing was staring at her in the same way.

  “We should ask it a question,” Melanie said, but even her usually calm voice was unsteady. There was a feeling of menace about the cloudy shape, of evil. Like the dark energy inside the skull, only stronger. More immediate.

  Who are you? thought Cassie, but her tongue was frozen, and anyway, she didn’t need to ask. There was no doubt at all in her mind who the shape in front of her was.

  Black John.

  Then came Diana’s voice, clear and carefully calm. “We’ve invited you here because we’ve found something of yours,” she said. “We need to know how to control it. Will you talk to us?”

  There was no answer. Cassie thought the thing was moving closer to her—but maybe it was just an illusion.

  “There are terrible things going on,” Adam said. “They have to be stopped.”

  No illusion. It was coming closer.

  “Are you controlling the dark energy?” Melanie asked abruptly, and Laurel’s voice blended with hers: “You’re dead! You’ve got no right to be interfering with the living.”

  “What’s your problem, anyway?” Deborah demanded.

  Too fast, Cassie thought. Too many people asking questions. The shape was drifting steadily closer. Cassie felt paralyzed, as if she were in danger that no one else saw.

  “Who killed Kori?” Doug Henderson was snarling.

  “Why did the dark energy lead us to the cemetery?” Deborah jumped in.

  “And what happened to Jeffrey?” Suzan added.

  The trail of smoke connecting the shape to the fire was stretched out thin, and the shape was right in front of Cassie. She was afraid to look into that cloudy, indistinct face, but she had to. In its contours she thought she could recognize the face she’d glimpsed inside the crystal skull.

  Get up, Cassie.

  The words weren’t real words, they were in her mind. And they had some power over her. Cassie felt herself shift position, begin to rise.

  Come with me, Cassie.

  The others were still asking questions, and dimly Cassie could hear barking far away. But much louder was the voice in her mind.

  Cassie, come.

  She got to her feet. The swirling darkness seemed to be less transparent now. More solid. It was reaching out a formless hand.

  Cassie reached out with her own hand to take it.

  Chapter 5

  “Cassie, no!”

  Later Cassie would realize it was Diana who had shouted. At the time the words came to her only through a fog, and they sounded slow and dragging. Meaningless, like the continued mad barking that was going on somewhere far away. Cassie’s fingertips brushed the transparent black fingertips before her.

  Instantly, she felt a jolt like the thrill that the hematite had given her. She looked up, shocked, from her own hand to the smoky, swirling face, and she recognized it—

  Then everything shattered.

  There was a great splash and icy-cold drops of water splattered Cassie from head to foot. At the same instant there was the hissing sound of red-hot embers being suddenly drenched. The smoky man-thing changed, dwindling, dissolving, as if it were being sucked back into the fire. A fire that now was nothing more than a sodden black mess of charred sticks.

  Adam was standing on the other side of the circle, holding the cooler, whose contents had doused the fire. Raj was behind him, hair bristling, lips skinned back from his teeth.

  Cassie stared from her own outstretched hand to Adam’s wide eyes. She swayed. Then everything seemed to go soft and gray around her, and she fainted.

  “You’re safe now. Just lie still.”
The voice seemed to come from a great distance, but it had a note of gentle authority. Diana, Cassie thought vaguely, and a great longing swept over her. She wanted to hold Diana’s hand, but it was too much trouble to move or try to open her eyes.

  “Here’s the lavender water,” came another voice, lighter and more hasty. Laurel. “You dab it on, like this . . .”

  Cassie felt a coolness on her forehead and wrists. A sweet, clean smell cleared her head a little.

  She could hear other voices now. “. . . maybe, but I still don’t know how the hell Adam did it. I couldn’t move—felt like I was frozen.” That was Deborah.

  “Me, too! Like I was stuck to the ground.” That was Sean.

  “Adam, will you please sit down now so Laurel can look at you? Please? You’re hurt.” That was Melanie, and suddenly Cassie could open her eyes. She sat up and a cool damp cloth fell off her forehead into her lap.

  “No, no—Cassie, lie still,” Diana said, trying to push her back down. Cassie was staring at Adam.

  His wonderful unruly hair was blown every which way. His skin was reddened, like a skier with a bad case of windburn, and his clothes looked askew and damp. “I’m all right,” he was saying to Melanie, who was trying to sit him in a chair.

  “What happened? Where are we?” Cassie said. She was lying on a couch in a shabby living room she knew she should recognize, but she felt very confused.

  “We brought you to Laurel’s house,” said Diana. “We didn’t want to scare your mom and grandma. You fainted. But Adam saved your life.”

  “He went through the four circles of protection,” Suzan said, with a distinct note of awe in her voice.

  “Stupid,” Deborah commented. “But impressive.”

  And then came Faye’s lazy drawl: “I think it was a tremendously devoted thing to do.”

  There was a startled pause. Then Laurel said, “Oh, well, you know Adam and duty. I guess he is devoted to it.”

  “I would’ve done it—so would Doug—if we could’ve got up,” Chris insisted.

  “And if you could’ve thought of it—which you couldn’t,” Nick said dryly and a little grimly. His expression was dark.

  Cassie was watching as Laurel dabbed with a damp towel at Adam’s face and hands. “This is aloe and willow bark,” Laurel explained. “It should keep the burns from getting worse.”

  “Cassie,” Diana said gently, “do you remember what happened before you fainted?”

  “Uh . . . you guys were asking questions—too many questions. And then—I don’t know, this voice started talking in my head. That thing was staring at me . . .” Cassie had a sudden thought. “Diana—at the skull ceremony in your garage, you know how you had the skull under a cloth?” Diana nodded. “Did you have it facing any particular way under the cloth?”

  Diana looked startled. “Actually, there was something about that that worried me. I put the skull facing the place where I’d sit in the circle—but when I took the cloth off, it was facing the other way.”

  “It was facing me,” Cassie said. “Which means either somebody moved it or . . . it moved itself.” They were looking at each other, both puzzled and uneasy, but communicating. Cassie felt closer to Diana than she had in weeks. Now was the time to make up, she thought.

  “Diana,” she began, but just then she noticed something. Adam’s mask of horns and oak leaves was sitting on a chair beside Diana, and one of Diana’s slender hands was resting on it, caressing it as if for comfort. It was an unconscious gesture—and a completely revealing one. A bolt of resentment shot through Cassie’s heart. Herne and the goddess Diana—they belonged together, right? And Diana knew it. Later tonight they’d probably perform that little ceremony Faye had been talking about.

  Cassie looked up and found Faye looking at her, golden eyes hooded and ironic. Faye smiled faintly.

  “What is it?” Diana was saying. “Cassie?”

  “Nothing.” Cassie stared down at the threadbare violet rug on the hardwood floor. “Nothing. I feel all right now,” she added. It was true, the disorientation was almost gone. But the memory of that smoky face stayed with her.

  “What an ending to our Halloween,” Laurel said.

  “We should have stayed at the dance,” said Suzan, sitting back and crossing her legs. “We didn’t learn anything—and Cassie got hurt,” she added, after a moment’s thought.

  “But we did learn something. We learned that Black John’s ghost is still around—and it’s malevolent,” Adam said. “It certainly wouldn’t answer any of our questions.”

  “And it’s strong,” Diana said. “Strong enough to influence all of us, to keep us from moving.” She looked at Cassie. “Except Cassie. I wonder why.”

  Cassie felt a flash of discomfort, and she shrugged.

  “It doesn’t matter how strong it is,” Melanie said. “Halloween’s over in a few hours, and after that it won’t have any power.”

  “But we still don’t know any more about the skull. Or about Kori,” Doug said, unusually serious.

  “And I don’t think we even know that Black John

  is—how did you put it, Adam? Malevolent,” came Faye’s husky slow voice. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” began Laurel.

  Before an argument could break out, Diana said, “Look, it’s late, and we’re all tired. We’re not going to get anything solved tonight. If Cassie really is okay, I think we should all go home and get some rest.”

  There was a pause, and then nods of agreement.

  “We can talk about it at school—or at Nick’s birthday,” Laurel said.

  “I’ll take Cassie home,” Nick said at the door.

  Cassie glanced at him quickly. He hadn’t said much while she’d been lying on the couch—but he’d been there. He’d come along with the rest of them to make sure she was all right.

  “Then Deborah can come with me,” Melanie said. “She rode in with you, right?”

  “Can you drive me, too? I really am tired,” Diana said, and Melanie nodded easily.

  Cassie scarcely noticed the rest of the good-byes. What she was noticing was that Adam was leaving in his Jeep Cherokee, heading north, and Diana was going with Melanie and Deborah, going south.

  No Herne-and-Diana ceremony tonight, Cassie thought, and a wash of relief went through her. Relief—and a ripple of mean gladness. It was wrong, it was bad—but she felt it.

  Just as she got into Nick’s car, she saw Faye smiling at her with raised eyebrows, and before she knew it, Cassie had smiled back.

  The next day when Cassie stepped out of her house she stopped in shock. The sugar-maple trees across the street had changed. The blazing autumn colors that had reminded her of fire were gone. So were the leaves. Every branch was bare.

  It looked like a Halloween skeleton.

  “Nick won’t let us do much for his birthday tomorrow,” Laurel said. “I wish we could give him a real surprise party.”

  Deborah snorted. “He’d walk right out.”

  “I know. Well, we’ll try to think of something he won’t think is too infantile. And”—Laurel brightened—“we can make up for it on the other birthdays.”

  “What other birthdays?” Cassie said.

  All the girls of the Club looked at her. They were sitting in the back room of the cafeteria, having a special conference while the guys kept Nick away.

  “You mean you don’t know about the birthday season?” Suzan asked in disbelief. “Diana didn’t tell you?”

  Diana opened her mouth and then shut it again. Cassie guessed she didn’t know how to say that she and Cassie didn’t talk that much anymore, at least not in private.

  “Let’s see if I can keep it straight,” Faye said with a low chuckle, eyes on the ceiling. She began to count

  on fingers tipped with long, gleaming scarlet nails. “Nick’s is November third. Adam’s is November fifth. Melanie’s is November seventh. Mine—and oh, yes, Diana’s, too—is November t
enth . . .”

  “Are you kidding?” Cassie broke in.

  Laurel shook her head as Faye went relentlessly on. “Chris and Doug’s is November seventeenth, Suzan’s is the twenty-fourth, and Deborah’s is the twenty-eighth. Laurel’s is, um . . .”

  “December first,” Laurel said. “And Sean’s is December third, and that’s it.”

  “But that’s . . .” Cassie’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t believe it. Nick was only a month older than Sean? And all the witch kids were eight or nine months older than she was? “But you and Sean are juniors, like me,” she said to Laurel. “And my birthday’s July twenty-third.”

  “We just missed the cutoff date,” Laurel said. “Everybody born after November thirtieth has to wait another year for school. So we had to watch everybody else go off to kindergarten while we stayed home.” She wiped away imaginary tears.

  “But that’s still . . .” Cassie couldn’t express herself. “Don’t you think that’s pretty incredible? All of you guys being born within a month of each other?”

  Suzan dimpled wickedly. “It was a very wet April that year. Our parents all stayed inside.”

  “It seems odd, I admit,” Melanie said. “But the fact is that most of our parents got married the spring before. So it really isn’t that surprising.”

  “But . . .” Cassie still thought it was surprising, although clearly all the members of the Club were so used to it they didn’t wonder about it anymore. And why don’t I fit in the pattern? she thought. I guess it’s because I’m half outsider. She shrugged. Melanie was probably right; anyway, there was no point in worrying. She let the subject drop and they went back to planning Nick’s party.

  They finally decided to combine all the birthdays for that first week—Nick’s, Adam’s, and Melanie’s—and hold the party on Saturday, November seventh.