The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection (34 page)

Read The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection Online

Authors: L. J. Smith

Tags: #Young Adult, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Vampires, #Juvenile Fiction, #Teenage Girls, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Love & Romance, #Witchcraft, #Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Social Issues, #Young Adult Fiction, #love, #Dating & Sex, #Massachusetts

BOOK: The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection
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“Thank you, Cassie! Now go right to Suzan’s—I’ve talked with her and Laurel and Melanie. They’ll fix you up. I’m going to call Adam and tell him.”
And
that
, Cassie thought helplessly, was one conversation she thought she could miss too.
Maybe Adam would get them out of it somehow, she thought as she drove the Rabbit up Suzan’s driveway. But she doubted it. When Diana made her mind up about something, she was immovable.
Suzan’s house had columns. Cassie’s mother said it was bad Greek Revival, but Cassie secretly thought it was impressive. The inside was imposing too, and Suzan’s bedroom was in a class by itself.
It was all the colors of the sea: sand, shell, pearl, periwinkle. The headboard on Suzan’s bed was shaped like a giant scalloped shell. But what caught Cassie’s eye were the mirrors—she’d never seen so many mirrors in one place.
“Cassie!” Laurel burst in just behind her, making Cassie turn in surprise. “I’ve got it!” Laurel announced triumphantly to the other girls, holding up a plastic-draped hanger. Inside Cassie 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, Cassie.”
“Oh, God,” was all Cassie 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 assortment 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!”
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
 
        
 

T
hey 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.

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