The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection

by L. J. Smith

  Cassie 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 Cassie 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, Cassie 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, Cassie tried to protest as Melanie whipped a towel around her neck. “That’s all right. I can do it myself—”

  “No, you want Suzan to do it,” Laurel said, emerging from the closet. “I promise, Cassie; just wait and see.”

  “But I 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.”

  Cassie yielded and sat on a stool, facing Suzan. “Hm,” said Suzan, turning Cassie’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 nobody 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, Cassie 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?” Cassie 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 Cassie’s throat, her earlobes, and her wrists with something that smelled wild and exotic and wonderful.

  “What is it?” Cassie asked.

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

  Alarm lanced through Cassie 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!”

  Cassie 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 glass with her fingertips.

  The girl in the mirror had fine, light-brown hair waving softly back from her face. The highlights shimmered when Cassie moved her head, so it must be her—but it couldn’t be, Cassie 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 shimmering, like yards of starlight, and it made Cassie feel like a princess. Suzan’s shoes, appropriately, looked like glass slippers.

  “Oh, thank you!” Cassie 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. Cassie 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.”

  Cassie 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. Cassie 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. Cassie 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, Cassie; run and get it before Dad has a fit.”

  “Hello, Mr. Whittier; sorry, Mr. Whittier,” Cassie 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 Cassie.

  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.

  Cassie 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. “Nobody 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,” Cassie said, and tried to come up with an ironic smile of her own. She had the feeling it turned out wobbly.

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

  “Here,” Laurel said, leaning over the balustrade to toss Cassie 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, Cassie—leave some for us!”

  “I’ll try to fend a few of them off,” Adam called back, and Cassie felt her racing pulse calm a little. They had their parts down now. It was like acting in a play, and all Cassie
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 Cassie took a deep breath and stepped with him outside into the night.

  Chapter 6

  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.

  Cassie 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 Cassie 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 Cassie. She knew she was blushing. 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 embarrassing. 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, Cassie 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. Cassie 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.

  Cassie 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, Cassie 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. Cassie could imagine witches in ages past dancing under the stars to wild sweet music, and then lying down on the soft green grass.

  Maybe among Cassie’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 god had danced together, while the moon shone silver all around them. . . .

  Cassie 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 Cassie 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. Cassie’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 “hello” and said, “Oh, there you are!” and Melanie’s smile was quite normal. Cassie 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?” Cassie 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 out-wrestle them all. They’re just in awe of her.”

  Cassie smiled, then she spotted someone else, and her smile faded. “Speaking of awesome . . .” she said softly.

  Faye had on a flame-colored dress, sexy 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.

  Cassie 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 Cassie 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 blond, 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.”

  “It’s her own fault,” Melanie said. “She kept after Jeffrey until the last minute.”

  “I think she’s still after him now,” said Cassie.

  Jeffrey was just coming off the dance floor with Sally. His expression was the exact opposite of wintry; he looked as if he was having a wonderful time, flashing his lady-killing smile in all directions. Proud, Cassie thought, to have the Homecoming Queen on his arm. But it was funny, she thought the next minute, how quickly people stopped smiling when they ran into Faye.

  Jeffrey tried to hustle Sally back onto the dance floor, but Faye moved as quickly as a stalking panther and cut them off. Then she and Sally stood on either side of Jeff, like a big, glossy black dog and a little rust-colored terrier fighting over a tall, slim bone.

  “That’s stupid,” Laurel said. “Faye could have almost any guy here, but she only wants the ones who’re a challenge.”

  “Well, it’s not our problem,” Melanie said sensibly. She turned to the outsider boy beside her and smiled, and they went together onto the dance floor. Laurel looked nettled for an instant, then smiled, shrugged at Cassie, and collected her own partner.

  Cassie watched them go with a sinking heart.

  She’d been able to block out Adam’s presence for the last few minutes, but here they were alone again. Determinedly, she looked around for some distraction. There was Jeffrey—he was in real trouble now. The music had started, Faye was smiling a lazy, dangerous smile at him, and Sally was bristling and looking daggers. The three of them were standing in a perfect triangle, nobody moving. Cassie didn’t see how Jeffrey was going to get out of it.

  Then he looked up in her direction.

  His reaction was startling. His eyes widened. He blinked. He stared at her as if he had never seen a girl before. Then he stepped away from Faye and Sally as if he’d forgotten their existence.

  Cassie was dismayed, confused—but flattered. One thing—it certainly got her out of her present dilemma with Adam. When she turned and looked into Adam’s eyes, she sa
w he understood, without even nodding.

  Jeffrey was holding out his hand to her. She took it and let him lead her onto the dance floor. She cast one glance back at Adam and saw that his expression was a paradox: acceptance mixed with something darker, more disturbing.

  It was another slow dance. Cassie held herself at a decent distance from Jeffrey, staring uncertainly down at his shoes. They were dark brown loafers with little tassels, the left one slightly scuffed. When she finally looked up at his face, her awkwardness vanished. That smile was not only blinding but openly admiring.

  When we first met he was trying to impress me, Cassie thought dizzily. Now he’s impressed. She could see the appreciation in his eyes, feel it in the way he held her.

  “We make a good couple,” he said.

  She laughed. Trust Jeffrey to compliment himself in complimenting her. “Thank you. I hope Sally isn’t mad.”

  “It’s not Sally I’m worried about. It’s her.”

  “Faye. I know.” She wished she had some advice for him. But nobody knew how to deal with Faye.

  “Maybe you’d better be worried too. What’s Diana going to say when she finds out you were here with Adam?”

  “Diana asked me to come with him, because she was sick,” Cassie said, flaring up in spite of herself. “I didn’t even want to, and—”

  “Hey. Hey. I was just teasing. Everybody knows Di and her prince consort are practically married. Although maybe she wouldn’t have asked you if she’d known how beautiful you were going to look.”

  He was still teasing, but Cassie didn’t like it. She looked around the dance floor and saw Laurel, who winked over her partner’s shoulder. Suzan was dancing, too, very close with a muscular boy, her red-gold hair shining in the gloom.

  And then it was over. Cassie looked up at Jeffrey and said, “Good luck with Faye,” which was the best she could offer him. He flashed the smile again.