As he drew back, Nick's mahogany eyes met hers in acknowledgement. Then, with an expressionless look at Sally, he stood aside.
The group of monitors surrounded Cassie and escorted her down the hall, treating her like a mass murderer. She had a wild impulse to giggle, but as they reached the office the urge disappeared in a flood of sheer dread and anxiety.
He planned this, she thought. Maybe not this specifically, today. But he knew he'd get us somehow, one by one. She tried to ignore the little voice whispering, he knew he'd get you. It's you he's after.
Because she was an outsider - or because she didn't fit in with his plans. A vision of Kori flashed through her mind: Kori lying stiff and motionless with a broken neck at the bottom of the hill. She'd seen what happened to people who didn't fit in with Black John's plans.
"Maybe if you bat your eyes at him he'll let you off," Sally whispered spitefully and pushed her in the office door.
Cassie didn't answer. She couldn't.
She hadn't been in this office since she'd gone to Mr. Fogle to complain that Faye was persecuting her. It looked the same, except that there was a crackling fire in the fireplace now. And the man behind the desk was different.
Don't look at him, Cassie thought, as the door swung shut behind her, but she couldn't help it. Those black eyes held hers from the instant she glanced toward the desk. That hawklike face betrayed no sign of surprise that she was there.
The principal put a slim gold-plated pen on the desk with a barely audible click.
"Cassandra," he said.
Cassie's knees felt weak.
It was the voice of the shadow. A dark, liquid voice. So quiet, so insidious - so evil. Under his hematite-black eyes she felt naked, exposed. As if he were looking at her mind. Looking for a crack to get in.
"Mr. Brunswick," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Polite, but distant.
He smiled.
He was wearing a black turtleneck and a black jacket. He stood, resting his fingertips on the desk.
"So brave," he said. "I'm proud of you."
It was the last thing she expected. Cassie just stared at him. Her fingers flew automatically to the bump of the amethyst pendant under her sweater.
His eyes followed the movement. "I wouldn't bother," he said, smiling faintly. "That crystal is much too small to be effective."
Cassie's hand dropped slowly. How had he known? She felt so confused, so off-balance. She stared at the man in front of her, trying to connect him with the burned creature that had crouched over her grandmother in the kitchen, with the seventeenth-century wizard who had led a frightened coven to New Salem. How was he here at all, that was the question. What was the source of his power?
"And amethyst is a weak stone, a stone of the heart," he was going on softly. "Purity of purpose, Cassie; that's the secret. Purity and clarity. Never forget your purpose."
She had the strange feeling he was answering her question. Oh God, why didn't Nick come? Her heart was pounding so hard . . . she was frightened.
"Let me demonstrate," the dark man said. "If you would give me that pendant? For a moment only," he added, as Cassie stood motionless.
Slowly, Cassie reached around the back of her neck. With cold fingertips she undid the silver chain and removed it. She didn't know what else to do.
Slowly, precisely, he took it.
Suddenly, wildly, Cassie thought of a magician about to do a trick. Nothing up those sleeves, she thought. Only flesh that shouldn't be there in the first place.
Still holding the necklace in the air, the principal turned away from Cassie. The fire leaped and crackled and Cassie felt her pulse in her throat and fingertips. I can't stand much more of this, she thought. Nick, where are you?
"You see," the principal said, in a voice that seemed oddly distorted, "amethyst is a stone riddled with impurities. For power, quartz is always my choice . . ." He began to turn around.
No, thought Cassie. Everything had gone into slow motion, as if she were watching one frame after another of a video. A video played on a very superior machine, each frame crisp and bright and sharp-edged, with no blurriness. Cassie didn't even know where the No had come from, except that something deep in her own brain was screaming in protest, trying to warn her. Don't look, oh, don't look.
Cassie wanted to stop the action, to freeze the frame. But she couldn't. It was taking forever, but the dark man was still turning. He was facing her.
She saw the elegant black jacket, the black turtleneck sweater. But above the turtleneck was a monstrosity that forced tears from her eyes and clogged the scream in her throat. The man had no face.
No hair, no eyebrows, no eyes, no nose. No mouth, only a grinning outline of clenched teeth. Even that, even the stark bones which faced her, were as clear as water.
Cassie couldn't scream, couldn't breathe. Her mind was out of control.
Oh God, oh God the skull isn't gone no wonder we couldn't find it, it didn't explode at all because it's in his head, oh Diana oh Adam it's in his head ...
"You see, Cassandra," came the inhuman voice from behind those clenched teeth, "purity plus clarity equals power. And I have more power than you children have ever dreamed of."
Oh God I won't believe this I won't believe this is happening I don't want to see any more ...
"My spirit is not confined to this body," the voice went on calmly, with terrible lucidity. "It can flow like water wherever I direct it. I can focus its power anywhere."
The hollow eyesockets tilted down, toward the amethyst pendant which hung from a perfectly normal-looking hand. Firelight flickered deep inside the crystal. Then Cassie felt it - an outrush of power like the one she'd sent to scare the dog and to warn Sean and to light the match. Only this was much stronger, much more concentrated than her feeble bursts had been. She could almost see it, like a blaze of light.