Secret Circle - The Captive Part 6

was impressive. The inside was imposing too, and Suzan's bedroom was in a cla.s.s by itself.

It was all the colors of the sea: sand, sh.e.l.l, pearl, periwinkle. The headboard on Suzan's bed was shaped

like a giant scalloped sh.e.l.l. But what caught Ca.s.sie's eye were the mirrors- she'd never seen so many mirrors in one place.

"Ca.s.sie!" Laurel burst in just behind her, making Ca.s.sie turn in surprise. "I've got it!" Laurel announced

triumphantly to the other girls, holding up a plastic-draped hanger. Inside Ca.s.sie glimpsed some pale,

gleaming material.

"It's a dress Granny Quincey got me this summer-but I haven't worn it and I never will. It's not my style, but it'll be perfect on you, Ca.s.sie."

"Oh, G.o.d," was all Ca.s.sie could think of to say. She'd changed her mind; she couldn't do this after all.

"Laurel-thanks-but I might ruin it . . ."

"Don't let her talk," Melanie ordered from the other side of the room. "Stick her in a bath; she needs one."

"That way," Suzan said, gesturing with splayed fingers. "I can't do anything until my nails are dry, but all the stuff's in there."

"Beauty bath mix," Laurel gloated, examining the a.s.sortment of bottles on the gilt shelves in Suzan's bathroom. There were all kinds of bottles, some with wide necks and some with long narrow necks, green and deep glowing blue. "Here, this is great: thyme, mint, rosemary, and lavender. It smells wonderful, and it's tranquilizing, too." She scattered bright-colored dried flowers in the steaming water. "Now get in and scrub. Oh, this is good," she went on, sniffing at another bottle. "Chamomile hair rinse-it brightens hair, brings out the highlights. Use it!"

Ca.s.sie obeyed dazedly. She felt as if she'd just been inducted into boot camp.

When she got back to the bedroom, Melanie directed her to sit down and hold a hot washcloth on her face. "It's 'a fragrant resin redolent with the mysterious virtues of tropical balms,' " Melanie said, reading from a Book of Shadows. "It 'renders the complexion clear and brilliant'-and it really does, too. So hold this on your face while I do your hair."

"Melanie's wonderful with hair," Laurel volunteered as Ca.s.sie gamely buried her face in the washcloth.

"Yes, but I'm not going to give her a do," Melanie said critically. "I'm just making it soft and natural, waving back from her face. Plug in those hot rollers, Suzan."

While Melanie worked, Ca.s.sie could hear Laurel and Deborah arguing in the depths of Suzan's walk-in closet.

"Suzan," Laurel shouted. "I never saw so many pairs of shoes in my life. What do you do with them all?"

"I don't know. I just like buying them. Which is lucky for people who want to borrow them," Suzan called back.

"Now, let's get you into the dress," Melanie said, some time later. "No, don't look, not yet. Come over to the vanity and Suzan will do your makeup."

Feebly, Ca.s.sie tried to protest as Melanie whipped a towel around her neck. "That's all right. 1 can do it myself-"

"No, you want Suzan to do it," Laurel said, emerging from the closet. "I promise, Ca.s.sie; just wait and see."

"But 1 don't wear much makeup-I won't look like me ..."

"Yes, you will. You'll look more like you."

"Well, somebody decide, for heaven's sake," Suzan said, standing by in a kimono and waving a powder puff impatiently. "I've got myself to do, too, you know."

Ca.s.sie yielded and sat on a stool, facing Suzan. "Hm," said Suzan, turning Ca.s.sie's face this way and that. "Hmm."

The next half hour was filled with bewildering instructions. "Look up," Suzan commanded, wielding a brown eyeliner pencil. "Look down. See, this will give you doe eyes," she went on, "and n.o.body will even be able to tell you're wearing anything. Now a little almond shadow . . ." She dipped a small brush in powder and blew off the excess. "Now just a little midnight blue in the crease to make you look mysterious . . ."

Eyes shut, Ca.s.sie relaxed. This was fun. She felt even more decadent and pampered when Laurel said, "I'll take care of your nails."

"What are you using?" Ca.s.sie asked trustingly.

"Witch-hazel infusion and Chanel Flamme Rose polish," Laurel replied, and they both giggled.

"Don't jolt my hand," Suzan said crossly. "Now suck in your cheeks like a fish. Stop laughing. You've got great cheekbones, I'm just going to bring them out a little. Now go like this; I'm going to put Roseglow on your lips."

When at last she sat back to survey her work, the other girls gathered around, even Deborah.

"And finally," Suzan said, "just a drop of magnet perfume here, and here, and here." She touched the hollow of Ca.s.sie's throat, her earlobes, and her wrists with something that smelled wild and exotic and wonderful.

"What is it?" Ca.s.sie asked.

"Mignonette, tuberose, and ylang-ylang," Suzan said. "It makes you irresistible. And I should know."

Alarm lanced through Ca.s.sie suddenly, but before she had time to think, Laurel was turning her, loosening the towel around her neck. "Wait, don't look until you've got your shoes on. . . . Now!" Laurel said jubilantly. "Look at that!"

Ca.s.sie opened her eyes and drew in her breath. Then, scarcely knowing what she was doing, she moved closer to the full-length mirror, to the lovely stranger reflected there. She could hardly resist reaching out to touch the gla.s.s with her fingertips.

The girl in the mirror had fine, light-brown hair waving softly back from her face. The highlights s.h.i.+mmered when Ca.s.sie moved her head, so it must be her-but it couldn't be, Ca.s.sie thought. Her eyes didn't have that dreamy, mysterious aura. Her skin didn't have that dewy glow, and she didn't blush that way, to bring out her cheekbones. And her lips definitely didn't have that breathless ready-to-be-kissed look.

"It's the lipstick," Suzan explained. "Don't smudge it."

"It's possible," said Melanie, "that you've gone too far, Suzan."

"Do you like the dress?" Laurel asked. "It's the perfect length, just short enough, but still romantic."

The girl in the mirror, the one with the delicate bones and the swan's neck, turned from side to side. The dress was silvery and s.h.i.+mmering, like yards of starlight, and it made Ca.s.sie feel like a princess. Suzan's shoes, appropriately, looked like gla.s.s slippers.

"Oh, thank you!" Ca.s.sie said, whirling to look at the other girls. "I mean-I don't know how to say thank you. I mean-I finally look like a witch!"

They burst into laughter, except Deborah, who threw a disgusted glance at the ceiling. Ca.s.sie hugged Laurel, and then, impulsively, hugged Suzan, too.

"Well, you are a witch," Suzan said reasonably. "I'll show you how to do it yourself if you want."

Ca.s.sie felt something like humility. She'd thought Suzan was just an airhead, but it wasn't true. Suzan loved beauty and was generous about sharing it with other people. Ca.s.sie smiled into the china-blue eyes and felt as if she'd unexpectedly made a new friend.

"Wait, we almost forgot!" Melanie said. "You can't go to a dance without a single crystal to your name." She rummaged in her canvas bag, and then said, "Here, this will be perfect; it was my great-grandmother's." She held up a necklace: a thin chain with a teardrop of clear quartz. Ca.s.sie took it lovingly and fastened it around her neck, admiring the way it lay in the hollow of her throat. Then she hugged Melanie, too.

From downstairs a doorbell chimed faintly, and, closer, a male voice shouted, "For crying out loud! Are you going to get that, Suzan?"

"It's one of the guys!" Suzan said, thrown into a tizzy. "And we're not ready. You're the only one dressed, Ca.s.sie; run and get it before Dad has a fit."

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Whittier; sorry, Mr. Whittier," Ca.s.sie gasped as she hurried downstairs. It wasn't until she was at the door that she thought, Oh, please, please, please, let it be any one of the others. Don't let it be him. Please.

Adam was standing there when she opened the door.

He was wearing a wry smile, appropriate for a guy who's been commandeered at the last minute into escorting his girl's best friend to a dance. The smile disappeared instantly when he saw Ca.s.sie.

For a long moment he simply stared at her. Her own elated smile faded, and they stood gazing at each other.

Adam swallowed hard, started to say something, then gave up and stood silent again.

Ca.s.sie was hearing Suzan's words: It'll make you irresistible. Oh, what had she done?

"We'll call it off," she said, and her voice was as soft as when she'd told Faye about the dark energy. "We'll tell Diana I got sick too-"

"We can't," he said, equally soft, but very intense. "n.o.body would believe it, and besides . . ." The wry smile made an attempt at reappearing. "It would be a shame for you to miss Homecoming. You look . . ." He paused. "Nice."

"So do you," Ca.s.sie said, and tried to come up with an ironic smile of her own. She had the feeling it turned out wobbly.

Ca.s.sie took another breath, but at that moment she heard a voice from the second floor.

"Here," Laurel said, leaning over the bal.u.s.trade to toss Ca.s.sie a tiny beaded purse. "Get her to the dance, Adam; that way she'll have a chance at some guys who're available." And, from the bedroom, Suzan called, "But not too many, Ca.s.sie-leave some for us!"

"I'll try to fend a few of them off," Adam called back, and Ca.s.sie felt her racing pulse calm a little. They had their parts down now. It was like acting in a play, and all Ca.s.sie had to do was remember her role. She felt sure Adam could handle his ... well, almost sure. Something in his sea-dark eyes sent thin chills up her spine.

"Let's go," Adam said, and Ca.s.sie took a deep breath and stepped with him outside into the night.

SIX.

They drove to the school. Despite the tension between them, the night seemed clear and cool and filled with magic, and the gym was transformed. It was so big that it seemed part of the night, and the twinkling lights woven around the pipes and girders overhead were like stars.

Ca.s.sie looked around for any other members of the Circle. She didn't see any. What she saw were outsiders looking in surprise at her and Adam. And in the boys' eyes there was something more than surprise, something Ca.s.sie wasn't at all used to. It was the kind of openmouthed stare guys turned on Diana when Diana was looking particularly beautiful.

A sudden warmth and a glow that had nothing to do with Suzan's artistry swept over Ca.s.sie. She knew she was blus.h.i.+ng. She felt conspicuous and overwhelmed-and at the same time thrilled and excited. But through the wild mixture of emotions, one thing remained clear and diamond-bright within her. She was here to play a part and to keep her oath to be true to Diana. That was what mattered, and she clung to it.

But she couldn't just stand here with everyone staring at her any longer; it was too embarra.s.sing. She turned to Adam.

It was an awkward moment. They couldn't sit down together in some dark corner-that would never do. Then Adam gave a crooked smile and said, "Want to dance?"

Relieved, Ca.s.sie nodded, and they went out onto the dance floor. In a matter of seconds they were surrounded by other people.

And then the music started, soft and sweet.

They stared at each other, helplessly, in dismay. They were in the middle of the dance floor; to get out they would have to forge their way through the crowd. Ca.s.sie looked into Adam's eyes and saw he was as confused as she was.

Then Adam said under his breath, "We'd better not be too conspicuous," and he took her in his arms.

Ca.s.sie shut her eyes. She was trembling, and she didn't know what to do.

Slowly, almost as if compelled, Adam laid his cheek against her hair.

I won't think about anything, I won't think at all, Ca.s.sie told herself. I won't feel. . . But that was impossible. She couldn't help feeling. It was dark as twilight and Adam was holding her and she could smell his scent of autumn leaves and ocean wind.

Dancing is a very witchy thing-oh, Laurel had been right. Ca.s.sie could imagine witches in ages past dancing under the stars to wild sweet music, and then lying down on the soft green gra.s.s.

Maybe among Ca.s.sie's ancestors there had been some witch-girl who had danced like this in a moonlit glade. Maybe she had danced by herself until she noticed a shadow among the trees and heard the panpipes. And then maybe she and the forest G.o.d had danced together, while the moon shone silver all around them. . . .

Ca.s.sie could feel the warmth, the course of life, in Adam's arms. The silver cord, she thought. The mysterious, invisible bond that had connected her to Adam from the beginning . . . just now she could feel it again. It joined them heart to heart, it was drawing them irresistibly together.

The music stopped. Adam moved back just slightly and she looked up at him, cheek and neck tingling with the loss of his warmth. His eyes were strange, darkness just edged with silver like a new moon. Slowly, he bent down so that his lips were barely touching hers-and stayed there. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity and then Ca.s.sie turned her head away.

It wasn't a kiss, she thought as they moved out through the crowd. It didn't count. But there was no way that they could dance together again and they both knew it. Ca.s.sie's knees were shaking.

Find some people to join-fast, she thought. She looked around desperately. And to her vast relief she glimpsed a sleek auburn crop and a head of long, light-brown hair interwoven with tiny flowers. It was Melanie and Laurel, in animated conversation with two outsider boys. If they'd seen what happened on the dance floor a minute ago . . .

But Laurel swung around at Adam's "h.e.l.lo" and said, "Oh, there you are!" and Melanie's smile was quite normal. Ca.s.sie was grateful to talk with them while the boys talked about football. Her lightheartedness, inspired by the magic of the dance, began to return.

"There's Deborah. She always gets one dance in before heading off to the boiler room with the Hendersons," Laurel murmured, smiling mischievously.

"What do they do there?" Ca.s.sie asked as she followed Laurel's gaze. Deborah was wearing a black micro-mini and a biker's hat decorated with a gold link bracelet. Her hair was mostly in her eyes. She looked great.

"Play cards and drink. But no, not what you're thinking. None of the guys would dare try anything with Deb-she can outwrestle them all. They're just in awe of her."

Ca.s.sie smiled, then she spotted someone else, and her smile faded. "Speaking of awesome . . ." she said softly.

Faye had on a flame-colored dress, s.e.xy and elegant, cut in her usual knockout style. Her hair was black and glossy, hanging untamed down her back. She was like some exotic creature that had wandered onto campus by accident.

Faye didn't see the three girls scrutinizing her. Her entire attention seemed to be focused on Nick.

Ca.s.sie was surprised Nick was even here; he wasn't the type to go to dances. He was standing by a blond outsider girl who looked frankly spooked. As Ca.s.sie watched, Faye made her way over to him and placed a hand with red-tipped fingers on his arm.

Nick glanced down at the hand and stiffened. He threw a cold glance over his shoulder at Faye. Then, deliberately, he shrugged her hand off, bending over the little blonde, whose eyes widened. Throughout the whole incident his face remained as wintry and remote as ever.

"Uh-oh," Laurel whispered. "Faye's trying to hedge her bets, but Nick isn't cooperating."