If Diana hadn't forgiven us, where would we be? Cassie wondered, as she looked down at the hearth again.
I'm glad you're the one who has him; I really am, she thought then. Glancing up, she saw that Diana had tears in her eyes, almost as if she knew what Cassie was thinking.
"AH right. I'll accept them for now - until it's time to use them," Diana said.
"This is finished," Adam said. They gathered up their tools and left the house.
It was when they were driving back to Adam's that they saw the silhouette beside the road.
"Black John," Cassie hissed, stiffening.
"I don't think so," Adam said, pulling over. "Too little. In fact, I think it's Sean."
It was Sean. He was dressed in jeans and a pajama top and he looked very sleepy.
"What's going on?" he said, his small black eyes darting under heavy lids. "I saw a light over at Cassie's house, and then I saw a car coming out of the driveway ... I thought you guys were Black John."
"It was brave of you to come out alone," Cassie said, remembering her vow to be kinder to Sean, and pushing away a flicker of uneasiness. Diana and Adam were consulting each other with their eyes, and Sean was looking from their dirty faces to the tools on the jeep's floor, to the hump under Adam's jacket.
"I think we'd better tell him," Diana said. Cassie hesitated - they'd agreed not to tell anyone - but there didn't seem to be any choice.
She nodded slowly, reluctantly.
So Sean climbed in the back and was sworn to secrecy. He was excited about the Master Tools, but Adam wouldn't let him touch them.
"We're going to find somewhere to hide them now," Adam said. "You'd better go back to bed; we'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay." Sean climbed out again. He started to shut the door, then stopped, looking at Cassie. "Oh, hey - you know that stuff about Black John being your father? Well, uh, I just wanted to say - it's okay by me. I mean, you should see my father. That's all." He slammed the door and scuttled off.
Cassie felt her throat swell, tears stinging behind her eyes. She'd forgotten about Adam having told them all; she'd have to face the rest of the Circle in the morning. But for now, Sean had made her feel glad and humble.
I've really got to be nicer to him in the future, she thought.
They hid the tools in Adam's cellar. "As long as we don't use them nobody should be able to trace them," Diana said. "That's what Melanie and I decided, anyway. But they're dangerous, Adam. It's risky to have them." She looked at him soberly.
"Then let somebody besides you two take a little risk," he said gently. "For once."
Cassie went to bed for the second time that night, tired but triumphant. She put the moonstone back on the dresser; she'd had enough dreams for now. She wondered if she'd ever see Kate again.
"I don't care if her father's Adolph Hitler." Deborah's voice, never soft, rang out clearly from downstairs. Cassie stood just inside the door of Diana's room, hanging on to the doorjamb. "What's it got to do with Cassie?"
"We know, Deborah, but hush, can't you?" That was Melanie, a good deal more modulated, but still audible.
"Why don't we just go upstairs an' get her?" Doug said reasonably, and Chris added, "I don't think she's ever comin' down."
"She's probably scared to death of all of you," Laurel scolded, sounding like a cub-scout den mother with a recalcitrant pack on her hands. "Suzan, those muffins are for her."
"Are you sure they're oat bran? They taste like dirt," Suzan said calmly.
"You've got to go down sometime," Diana said from behind Cassie.
Cassie nodded, leaning her forehead briefly against the cool wall by the door. The one voice she hadn't heard belonged to the one she was most worried about - Nick. She squared her shoulders, picked up her backpack, and made her legs move. Now I know how it feels to walk out to face the firing squad, she thought.
The entire Circle - except Faye - was gathered at the foot of the stairs, gazing up expectantly. Suddenly Cassie felt more like a bride descending the staircase than a prisoner. She was glad she was wearing clean jeans and a cashmere sweater Diana had loaned her, dyed in soft swaths of blue and violet.
"Hi, Cassie," Chris said. "So I hear - yeeouch!" He staggered sideways from Laurel's kick.
"Here, Cassie," Laurel said sweetly. "Have a muffin."
"Don't," Suzan whispered in Cassie's ear.
"I picked these for you," Doug said, thrusting a handful of damp greenery at her. He peered at it doubtfully. "I think they're daisies. They looked better before they died."
"Want to ride to school on my bike?" Deborah said.
"No, she doesn't want to ride to school on your bike. She's going with me." Nick, who had been sitting on the wooden deacon's bench in the hallway, stood up.
Cassie had been afraid to look him in the face, but now she couldn't help it. He looked cool, unruffled as always, but in the depths of his mahogany eyes there was a warmth that was for her alone. In taking her backpack, his strong, deft fingers squeezed her hand, once.
That was when she knew it was going to be all right.
Cassie looked around at the Club. "You all - I don't know what to say. Thank you." She looked at Adam, who had made them understand. "Thank you."
He shrugged, and only someone who knew him well would have noticed the pain at the edge of his smile. His eyes were dark as storm clouds with some repressed emotion. "Anytime," he said, as Nick started to steer her to the door.
On the way, Cassie glanced back at Doug. "What happened to your/ace?"