Cassie tried not to look as sick as that made her feel. "I don't want his help," she said, swallowing.
Faye shrugged. "Maybe later."
"No, Faye. Not later. I don't ever want to see him again. But if you know about me being kidnapped, you must know what they were after. We've found the Master Tools." Cassie looked at the strange opposite-Faye image in the mirror, and then turned to look the real Faye in the eyes. "They belong to you," she said distinctly. "You're leader of the coven. But the coven is going to fight... Black John."
"You can't even say it, can you? It's not so hard. Daddy. Father. Pops. Whatever you want to call him, I'm sure he won't mind - "
"Will you listen to me, Faye!" Cassie almost shouted. "You're sitting here being fatuous - "
"And she knows big words, too!"
" - while something serious is going on! Something deadly serious. He is going to kill people. That's all he is, Faye, hatred and the desire to kill. I know it; I can feel it in him. And he's taking you for a ride."
Faye's golden eyes narrowed. She looked less amused.
"I've known you for a while now, Faye, and there've been plenty of times when I've hated you. But I never thought I'd see you become somebody's stenographer. You used to make up your own mind about things and you didn't kiss up to anybody. Do you remember how you once asked me if I wanted my epitaph to be 'Here lies Cassie. She was . . . nice'? Well, do you want yours to be 'Here lies Faye. She was a good secretary'?"
One of Faye's hands, with its long fingernails - mauve these days, instead of scarlet - was clenched on the dresser. Her jaw was set, and she was staring hard into her own golden eyes in the mirror.
Cassie's pulse quickened. "When I looked at you I used to see a lion - a sort of black and gold lion. Now I see" - she glanced down at her feet - "a kitten. Some rich guy's kitten."
She waited tensely. Maybe ... just maybe . . . Maybe the bond forged during the candle ceremony would be strong enough, maybe Faye had enough pride, enough independence . . .
Faye's eyes met hers in the mirror. Then Faye shook her head. Her face was closed, her mouth tight.
"I think you know the way out," she said.
The kittens tangled around Cassie's feet as she turned, and she felt the razor-sharp nick of claws.
No, she told them with her mind, and she felt the kittens freeze, ears back. She picked them up, one in each hand, and tossed them onto Faye's bed.
Then she left.
"We have to give her until the ninth," Diana said. "Maybe she'll change her mind."
"'Maybe later,'" Cassie quoted, but there wasn't much hope in her voice.
"We'll wait until the ninth for Sean, too," Adam said.
They made it through the next seven school days without trouble - except among themselves.
At New Salem High, the members of the Club only spoke to each other in public to argue. Laurel's birthday on the first and Sean's birthday on the third of December went uncelebrated, because, according to a distraught Diana, none of them could get along long enough to plan a party. Cassie saw the looks and heard the whispers and knew that the plan was working. She concentrated on being as much like the old Cassie as possible - shy, tongue-tied, easily frightened or embarrassed. The role was uncomfortable, like some old skin she'd out-grown, and she itched to get rid of it. But for the time they were fooling Sean. They were even fooling Faye.
"I hear you and Nick have broken up," Faye said in the hall one day. The hooded golden eyes were warm and pleased.
Cassie flushed, looking away.
"And the Club isn't much of a club without me, from what I see these days," Faye went on, practically purring.
Cassie squirmed.
"I may join you sometime - maybe for the next full-moon celebration. If you're having one, that is."
Cassie shrugged.
Faye looked smug. "We could have a wicked time," she said. "Think about it."
As Faye walked away Cassie saw Sally Walt-man at her post as hall monitor. She edged up as inconspicuously as possible.
"We're ready for the ninth, like you told us," Cassie said softly. "But can you do one more thing for us?"
Sally looked uneasy. "He's got everybody watching everybody. Nobody's safe - "
"I know, but when the ninth comes, will you tell us if he does anything unusual? If it looks like he's moving? Please, Sally. Everything I told you about him is true."
"All right," Sally said, casting a hunted glance around. "Now just go, will you? I'll try to get a message to you if I hear anything."
Cassie nodded and hurried away.
The ninth dawned gray and windy, the sort of day that normally made Cassie want to curl up in front of a fire. Instead, she put on extra-warm clothes: a thick sweater, gloves, a parka. She had no idea what they might be facing today, but she wanted to be dressed for action. In her backpack, along with her school notebooks, she put her Book of Shadows.
She was walking out of French class when Sally intercepted her.
"Come with me, please," the rusty-haired girl said in crisp hall-monitor accents, and Cassie followed her into the empty nurse's office next door. Sally immediately dropped the officious tone.
"If I get caught with you, it's all over," she said rapidly in a harsh whisper, her eyes on the frosted-glass window in the door. "But here it is: I just overheard Brunswick talking with your friend Faye. Maybe you'll understand what it was about, because I sure don't. They were discussing something about arranging an accident on the bridge - it sounded like they were taking an empty school bus over there, and a car, or maybe it was a couple of cars. He said They only have to burn for an hour or so; by then the water will have risen far enough.' Does that mean anything to you?"