The Secret Circle: The Captive Part II and The Power (14 page)

Cassie couldn’t help but notice that Adam was
not
smiling. He didn’t smile again the rest of the day.

That night, Cassie had dreams. Swirling, formless dreams that seemed to have something to do with Books of Shadows. She and Diana had been up late, reading and studying. They hadn’t found anything helpful. But in Cassie’s dreams she felt she was on the verge of a momentous discovery.

She caught a glimpse of the sunlit room again. Just a swift bright flash that melted almost instantly into darkness. She found herself awake, staring around Diana’s bedroom as if she might find it here.

“Cassie,” Diana murmured. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Cassie whispered. She was glad when Diana went still again. Diana was the one who’d insisted Cassie sleep with her, worried about Cassie having nightmares. But if Cassie really started disturbing Diana she couldn’t let herself stay here anymore. She was enough trouble to Diana without keeping her up all night.

Actually, Cassie had slept very peacefully in the Meade house. It wasn’t like Number Twelve, which had groaned and popped so much in settling that Cassie had been constantly jolted awake. Some difference in the way the houses were made, she supposed. The additions to Diana’s house were much newer; perhaps they’d used better materials.

Cassie lay for a while in the warm darkness, listening to Diana’s soft breathing. Where was Black John tonight? she wondered. Out there on the mainland in his rented cottage? Or here, on the island of New Salem?

For some reason thinking of New Salem as an island upset her. She felt—isolated, somehow: besieged. As if Black John could cut all of them off from the rest of the world and cast them adrift on the ocean.

Don’t be silly, she told herself. But the threads of panic churning in her stomach wouldn’t be stilled. She wondered suddenly if her mother wouldn’t be better off in an institution—away from here. Anywhere away from here.

There’s no reason for him to hurt her. It’s us he hates, she thought desperately.

But he had come after her grandmother. Why? For the Book of Shadows?

I’m the one who has the Book of Shadows now, she realized with a sick lurch of heart. What if he decides to come and take it?

The thought grabbed hold of her imagination. She could feel the bed quiver with the pounding of her heart. What if Black John were to come here, now? He was a living, breathing man—but he was also a witch. Was he bound by the rules of other men? Or could he come sliding in here like a shadow, crawling along the floor toward the bed?

I have to stay calm. I have to. If I crack up, it’s all over. For Mom, for the coven, for everyone. It’s going to take all of us to fight him. I can’t be the weak link.

“There is nothing frightening in the dark if you just face it,” she whispered to herself between clenched teeth. “There is nothing frightening in the dark if you just face it.”

Burning tears spilled out of her eyes, but she kept on whispering her grandmother’s phrase. On and on until at last she fell asleep.

The next school day began with an assembly. Faye hadn’t been in her normal seat in writing class again, but as Cassie filed into the auditorium she was astonished to see the dark-haired girl up by the stage.

Faye was standing quietly, almost demurely—for Faye. She was wearing a tailored suit and looked like a very smart, very sexy secretary. Her mane of dark hair was piled up softly on her head, and she was carrying a stack of papers and a clipboard. All she needed was a pair of hornrimmed glasses and she could have been some billionaire’s Girl Friday.

Cassie couldn’t believe it.

She looked around the auditorium and caught sight of Suzan and Sean, who both had the same remedial-English class first period. She jerked her chin at them and they split off from their class and joined her. Suzan’s blue eyes were enormous.

“Did you see Faye? What’s she doing up there?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie said. “Nothing good.”

“She
looks
good,” Sean said, wetting his lips quickly. “She looks great.”

Cassie glanced at Sean, really noticing him for the first time in a long time. Since she’d danced with him at the Halloween dance, maybe. It was so easy to overlook Sean; in a crowd he just seemed to blend in. But here, with only him and Suzan beside her, Cassie focused.

I should pay more attention to him, she thought. An image skittered through her mind: Sean as he had appeared the first time she’d seen him. Shiny eyes, shiny belt engraved with his name. Standing by his locker full of Soloflex ads, grinning at her. Something about the picture disturbed her profoundly, but she couldn’t think what.

The last of the junior and senior classes were
coming into the auditorium. Cassie saw the Henderson brothers and Deborah sitting down with their history class. There was Diana and Melanie and Laurel from British Literature, and Sally Waltman, too, with the now-familiar straw-colored head of Portia Bainbridge next to her. She saw Adam and his chemistry class, but didn’t spot Nick.

“Looks like Faye’s doing a little extracurricular activity,” a voice behind her murmured, and Cassie turned gratefully. Nick nodded at the guy who was occupying the seat there, and the guy scrambled up and left. Cassie hardly noticed the occurrence, it was so common. The kids from Crowhaven Road indicated what they wanted, and the outsiders gave it to them. Always. It was the way things worked.

Nick sat in the vacated chair and took out a pack of cigarettes. He opened it, shook one forward. Then he noticed Cassie.

Cassie was staring at him with her eyebrows lifted, her best Diana expression on. Disapproval radiating from her like heat waves.

“Ah,” Nick said. He glanced at the cigarettes, then at her again. He tapped the protruding cigarette back into place and tucked the pack in his pocket.

“Bad habit,” he said.

“Testing, one, two, three . . .” It was Faye’s voice over the microphone. Cassie turned quickly.

“It’s on,” Faye said, with a smile Cassie could only describe as kittenish. Faye moved away from the lectern, and the tall man also standing onstage walked up to it. He adjusted it, his eyes on the crowd of seated students.

“Good morning,” he said, and his voice sent waves of darkness crashing through Cassie. Every muscle in her body tightened defensively, ready to obey some deeply buried instinct to fight or flee. Just his voice, she thought dazedly, how can someone’s voice alone do that?

“As some of you already know, I’m Mr. Brunswick, your new principal.”

Chapter 7

T
here was a scattering of applause, hesitant, dying away quickly. Already the atmosphere in the auditorium was uncertain, alert. The usual whispers and fidgets snuffed out like candle flames, until the great room was utterly still. All eyes were on the stage.

He’s a handsome man, Cassie thought, fighting the pounding in her brain that was telling her to run, run. Why did she react so violently to his presence? It was like her reaction on the night of her initiation, when Adam had produced the crystal skull. Cassie had taken one look at it and felt horror creep up her spine—to her, it seemed surrounded by a halo of darkness. It had only been later that she realized not all the coven members could see what she saw.

As Cassie looked around now, she could tell by the expressions of the other students that they didn’t feel the darkness emanating from the new principal. To her, he cast a shadow across the entire auditorium. To them, he simply seemed powerful, impressive.

“I realize there has been some turmoil at New Salem High School recently,” he was saying, his eyes moving slowly up and down the rows of students. Cassie got the odd impression that he was memorizing each one of them. “But you’ll be happy to know that’s over now. The—unfortunate occurrences—that have plagued this school are behind us. It’s time for a brand-new start.”

“Turmoil” meaning two students and one principal dead, Cassie thought. Since
you
killed all three of them, I guess you can decide when it’s over. At the same time she wondered exactly how he’d managed the murders from his grave. Did the dark energy itself do it? she wondered. She wanted to whisper the question to Nick or Suzan—or Sean, her mind added hastily, guiltily—but it was hard to turn her head away from the man on the stage.

“I’ve heard reports that the last administration’s attitude toward discipline was somewhat—lenient. A policy of, shall we say,
permissiveness
which was undoubtedly intended to be benign.” The principal glanced toward the teachers lining the auditorium walls, as if to intimate that he knew they might use other words to describe that policy, but there was no point in speaking ill of the dead. “Certain activities were allowed which were detrimental not only to the students they affected, but also to the very spirit of formal education. Certain groups were afforded special privileges.”

What is he talking about? Cassie thought. It’s like a politician; lots of fancy words and no meaning. But something inside her was sinking in dismay.

“Well, the policy has changed now, and I think in the end most of you will be pleased with the changes. There’s a new hand on the tiller of this boat.” The principal held up one hand with a slight, self-deprecating smile.

Then he started talking again. Afterward, Cassie could never remember exactly what he said, but she remembered his voice, deep, authoritative. Commanding. There were buzzwords scattered through his speech: “tough love,” “old-fashioned discipline,” “punishment fitting the crime.” She could feel the response from the audience: dark, dark. Like something swelling and growing in the crowd. It frightened her almost more than Black John himself. It was as if he were feeding and cultivating some horrible power inside the students. They should have hated him, but instead they were enthralled.

The rules. The rules must be obeyed. Students who didn’t obey the rules would be
sent to the office
. . .

“I think it’s time for the handout now,” Jack Brunswick added in a soft aside, and Faye and several other girls moved down from the stage, passing out papers. Cassie watched the principal as he watched the audience, standing at ease, commanding their attention effortlessly even when he wasn’t speaking. Yes, handsome, she thought. He looked something like a young Sherlock Holmes: deep-set eyes, hawk nose, firm mouth. His voice even had traces of an English accent. Cultured, thought Cassie. Cultured—and full of conviction.

More like a witch hunter than a witch.

Faye reached Cassie’s row, thrust a sheaf of papers at her. Cassie whispered “Faye!” and was rewarded by a swift flash of golden eyes before Faye moved on. Bewildered, Cassie took one handout and passed the rest to Suzan. It was three pages long and covered with small type.

Prohibited Actions—Type A. Prohibited Actions—Type B. Prohibited Actions—Type C
.

It was a list of rules. But so many rules, line after line after line. Her eyes caught words here and there.

Wearing clothing inconsistent with the serious and dignified purpose of formal education . . . using a locker or being in the corridors at any time other than the passing period between classes . . . possession or use of squirt guns . . . littering . . . running in the halls . . . chewing gum . . . failing to comply with an order from any teacher or hall monitor
. . .

Hall monitors? Cassie thought. We don’t have hall monitors. Her eyes skimmed on.

Public displays of affection . . . failing to recycle styrofoam lunch trays . . . placing feet on seats or chair backs
. . .

“They can’t be serious,” Suzan whispered. There was a faint whistle from Nick.

“You’ll have time in class to go over these guidelines and become thoroughly familiar with them,” the new principal said. In the corner of Cassie’s eye she saw rows of heads lifting. The rustling of paper stilled.

“Right now I’d like to ask for volunteers to be hall monitors. This is a position of great responsibility, so please think carefully before you raise your hand.”

Hands flew up all over the auditorium. The students at New Salem High had never volunteered so fast for anything. Cassie saw Portia, rigid and trembling like a hound dog pointing in the air. Sally, in the next seat, was waving madly, like a third-grader dying to get called on by the teacher. The room was like one giant Nazi salute.

Black John’s eyes moved up and down, scanning them, examining each one.

Then Cassie realized that Sean’s hand was going up.

“Sean!” she hissed. The auditorium was so quiet she didn’t dare speak loudly. Suzan glanced at Sean, then shrank back from him. He was out of Nick’s reach. “Sean!” she said.

He didn’t seem to hear her. His shiny eyes were fixed on the stage. His face was eager, tense.

Desperation tingled in the palms of Cassie’s hands. She reached across Suzan to grab his left arm, and with all the power she could summon up, thought:
Sean!

She felt it go out of her like a blast of heat, just as she’d felt it when she was facing the pumpkin-patch dog. A burst of pure power. Sean’s head snapped toward her, his expression full of astonishment.

“
Put your hand down
,” she whispered, feeling shaky and exhausted in the aftermath. Sean looked at his hand as if he’d never seen it before and hastily snatched it down. He gripped the seat of his chair, eyes still sideways on Cassie.

Now Suzan was cringing away from
her
, Cassie realized. Both the strawberry-blond and Sean looked scared. Cassie looked toward the stage and saw the new principal looking directly at her, his lips curved in a faint smile.

Great.
He
likes it, and my own friends are afraid of me.

Black John continued to gaze at her steadily for a moment, then turned the slight smile on the rest of the auditorium.

“Very good. Those of you who’ve been chosen will please remain after the assembly to learn about your new duties. The rest are dismissed. Good morning.”

Hairs lifted on the back of Cassie’s neck. “Chosen?” she whispered, looking around. There hadn’t been any selection. But some of the students who’d had hands up were moving to the stage in a quiet, orderly manner. Portia and Sally were among them.

Don’t you see? You’ve got to see now how strange this is, Cassie thought, twisting to look at Mr. Humphries standing in the aisle. But Mr. Humphries didn’t seem to find anything unusual about the proceedings. He looked calm and rather pleased as he motioned his class out.
Tranquilized
, Cassie thought, shivering. Hypnotized.

Black John was still standing at the lectern. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked out of the auditorium.

Cassie fell back as her writing class walked down the hall, slowing to stay with Nick and Suzan and Sean. Suzan and Sean looked at her oddly, but Nick put his arm around her.

“That was pretty good,” he said softly. Cassie felt better, until she noticed he didn’t have his handout.

“I left it on the seat,” he said, and Cassie’s heart sank a little further.

“That’s littering,” she said. “And littering’s a Type-A offense. Nick, we’ve got to be careful—he’s out to get us.”

“No kidding,” Adam said, joining them. His blue-gray eyes flickered once over Nick’s arm around Cassie’s shoulders, but his expression didn’t change. “Have you read over the Prohibited Actions, Type C?”

Cassie hadn’t. She thumbed to the last page of the handout and looked. “Skateboarding, roller-skating, or bike riding . . . playing or wearing radios on school grounds . . . smoking or using tobacco products . . . these are supposed to be worse than Type-B offenses like using drugs or fighting?”

“They seem to be a little specifically directed,” Adam said grimly.

And then Cassie knew. She remembered her very first day of school at New Salem High, nearly being knocked off her feet by the Henderson brothers—only at the time she didn’t know it was the Henderson brothers. She’d only seen two crazy guys with heavy-metal T-shirts and disheveled blond hair, rollerblading down the halls and listening to Walkmans.

She swallowed hard. “They’re for
us
,” she whispered. Adam met her eyes, nodding.

“Smoking,” Cassie said. She clutched Nick’s hand, turning to look him full in the face. “Nick, please, you’ve got to be careful. He wants to get us and we’re not ready to confront him yet . . . Nick!” She had a terrible feeling about this. Nick hated authority, took any rules as a challenge. Right now she didn’t see any sign of him changing, by his expression. “Nick!”

“Punishment for Type-C offenses is getting sent to the office,” Adam said. “He
is
trying to get us, Nick. He’s playing his own little game.”

“Nick, I want you to promise me you’ll try not to get in trouble,” Cassie said. “Please, Nick. You have to promise.”

Nick looked down at her slowly. Cassie tightened her grip on his hand, returning the intensity of his gaze. Please, she was thinking. For me, please.

Nick’s brow furrowed and he turned away.

“Okay,” he said, nodding slightly, eyes on the ceiling. “Okay, I’ll try—not to get caught.”

Cassie’s muscles relaxed. “Thank you,” she whispered, just as Diana, Melanie, and Laurel came up, faces bleak.

“Did you get that stuff in the beginning, about the previous administration allowing certain activities to go on?” Melanie asked. “That was
us
he was talking about. The Club and its special privileges. He said all that was going to change now.”

Cassie spoke softly. “He was telling them we’re not in power anymore. He was as good as giving them permission to . . .”

Her voice died away. She and the other members of the Club looked at one another silently.

“Everybody get your guns. Sounds like it’s open season for witches,” Nick said finally. He put his arm around Cassie again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Suzan said.

“We can’t,” said Laurel. “Leaving school grounds without permission is an offense.”

“
Everything
is an offense,” Suzan said.

“Where are Chris and Doug?” Cassie asked sharply. “And Deborah?”

Everyone looked around. Aside from Nick, the Henderson brothers and the biker were the ones most likely to get into trouble.

“They have history first period, but I think their class went back without them,” Sean volunteered. “I think they’re still in the auditorium.”

“Come on,” said Adam briefly.

Chris and Doug were just outside the auditorium. They were in the center of a group of outsider students and they were getting ready to fight.

“—not gonna get away with it anymore,” one of the outsider boys was caroling triumphantly.

“Oh, yeah?” Chris yelled back.

“Yeah! Your days are over, man! You’re gonna get
sent to the office
.”

“Didn’t take them long to catch on,” Nick murmured in Cassie’s ear.

“You’re all going to get sent to the office,” Adam said, pushing between the outsiders to get to Chris and Doug. He faced them, holding up the handout like a magic talisman. “Fighting’s a Type-B offense. You’ll
all
go down for it.”

There was a moment of uncertainty, then the outsiders drew back, eyeing each other.

“We’ll see you later,” they decided finally, and turned down the hall. Doug tried to go after them.

“Any time, any place,” he yelled as Nick caught him and held him still. “Leggo of me!” he snarled at Nick.

“We can’t afford a confrontation yet,” Diana told him. “Good job,” she added to Adam.

“It worked—this time,” Adam said. “If I’m right about what he’s doing, they’ll eventually figure out that the rules are mainly against
us
. They may not get in trouble for fighting, but we will.”

To Cassie’s vast relief Deborah came around the corner at that moment. “Deb, where have you been?”

“Watching the hall monitors get their orders. They’re giving them badges like SS men.”

“It
is
like the Nazis,” Cassie said.

“He’s organizing a witch hunt,” said Adam.

“I wonder if he’s done it before,” Suzan said.

Cassie started to say, “What do you mean?” but stopped in the middle of it and stared at her. Suzan, who looked so—fluffy, so brainless, who even now was groping in her purse for a compact, had done it again.

“And Faye is working for him—” Diana was saying. Cassie interrupted.

“No, wait, listen. Did you hear what Suzan just said? Don’t you get it?
I wonder if he’s done it before
. You know, I’ll bet he has.”