"He's always been that ugly," Chris assured her.
"It was the fight," Doug said, touching his black eye with something like pride. "But you should see the other fifty guys," he yelled after her.
"Are we all in trouble for fighting?" Cassie asked Nick, outside.
"Nah - they don't know who started it. They'd have to punish the whole school."
Which, as it turned out, the principal did. The Thanksgiving football game was canceled, and there was a good deal of ill feeling among the students. Cassie just prayed nobody found out where the ill feeling ought to be directed.
"Can we keep things quiet until Thanksgiving vacation next week?" Diana asked at lunch. Cassie and Adam were the only ones who knew exactly why she wanted things kept quiet - so they'd have time to decide how best to use the Master Tools - but the others agreed to try. No one except Doug and Deborah was really interested in more fighting at the moment.
"I'm afraid, though. I'm afraid he'll come after us anyway. He could have the hall monitors pick us up for no reason," Cassie said to Diana afterward.
It didn't happen. A strange peace, a sort of bizarre tranquility, engulfed New Salem High. As if everyone were waiting, but no one knew what for.
"Don't go alone," Diana said. "Wait a minute and I'll go with you."
"I know exactly where the book is," Cassie said. "I won't be in the house more than a minute." She'd been meaning to lend Le Morte D'Arthur to Diana for a long time. It was one of her favorite books, and her grandmother had a beautiful copy from 1906. "I can pick up some dried sage for the stuffing while I'm at it," she said.
"No I don't. Don't do anything extra; just come back as quick as you can," Diana said, pushing a strand of damp hair off her forehead with the back of a greasy hand. They'd been having a strenuous but rather interesting time, trying to stuff a Thanksgiving turkey.
"Okay." Cassie drove to Number Twelve. They were late with the turkey; the sun was low in the sky.
Just in and out, Cassie told herself as she hurried through the door. She found the book on a shelf in the library and tucked it under her arm. She wasn't really uneasy - the last week had been so quiet. The Circle had celebrated Suzan's birthday undisturbed two days ago, on the twenty-fourth.
You see, I told you, she thought to Diana as she came out of the house. Nothing to worry abou -
She saw the car, a gray BMW, sitting beside her grandmother's white Rabbit. In that split second, she was already starring to act, to jump back through the doorway, but she never got the chance. A rough hand clapped over her mouth and she was dragged away.
Chapter Twelve
"Get out of here before any of them see us," the voice said tersely. Cassie could smell the acridity of sweat.
Jordan, she was thinking. The one with the gun. The one in the Pistol Club. The other one was Logan, who was on the MIT debate team, and was younger than Jordan - or was he older? Cassie never had been able to keep Portia's brothers straight, even when Portia was telling her about them, back on Cape Cod.
Her mind was working very calmly and clearly.
They drove her out of New Salem, onto the mainland, keeping her squashed on the floor of the backseat the whole time. Jordan kept his feet on her and kept something cold and hard pressed against the back of her head. As if I were a dangerous criminal or something, Cassie thought. Good grief. What do they think I'm going to do, turn them into toads?
The other pair of feet resting on her was feminine. Portia, Cassie guessed. No, Sally. Portia was too aristocratic to tromp on somebody's legs.
Cassie heard the thudding of the tires as they drove over the bridge to the mainland. After that there were a lot of turns, and then a long ride on a bumpy road. When they finally stopped, it was very quiet.
They were in the middle of a forest. Birch and beech and oak, the native trees of Massachusetts, grew thickly all around. They let Cassie out of the car, and then the guys marched her into the woods. Cassie could hear the lighter footsteps of the girls following. It seemed like a long walk, farther and farther away from the road and any semblance of civilization. As dark fell, they reached a clearing.
Somebody had been here before. Logan's flashlight showed a fire pit, and ropes hanging from a tree. Portia and Sally - Cassie had been right, it was Sally - made a fire in the pit, while the guys tied Cassie to the tree. They used a lot more rope than Cassie thought necessary.
And she didn't like the look of that fire.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked Logan as he stepped back from tying her. When she could see their faces she could tell Logan from Jordan - Jordan was the one with shark's eyes.
"Because you're a witch," Logan said briefly.
"That's a reason?"
Portia stepped forward. "You lied," she said accusingly. "About the boy on the beach, about everything. All the time, you were a witch yourself."
"I wasn't then," Cassie said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am now."
"Then you admit it. Well, we're going to do now what we should have done then."
A hard fist of fear clenched in Cassie's stomach, and she looked at the fire again. Jordan was putting something in it, something long and metal.
I'm in trouble, Cassie realized. I am in very, very bad trouble.
She needed help. She knew that, and knew of only one way to call for it. Her only weapon was her power.
All right, she told herself; do what you did to call to Sean. Get ready, stay calm - now.
Adam, she tried to call to him with her mind. Adam, it's Cassie. I'm in trouble. She wished she had the chalcedony rose to hold while she called; Adam had told her it would help make contact with him. But the chalcedony rose was Diana's.