"And the parents who didn't like that idea went to fight Black John," Deborah put in. "They killed him; they burned him and the house at Number Thirteen, but they died themselves doing it. The ones that are alive are the cowards who stayed at home."
"Like my father," Suzan said abruptly, looking up from her nails. "He gets really nervous if you mention the Vietnam Memorial or the Titanic or anything about anybody dying to save other people. And he won't talk about my mom."
Cassie saw startled looks around the Circle. There was a kind of recognition in many of the members' eyes.
"Like my dad," Diana said wonderingly. "He always talks about my mother being so brave, but he's never said exactly why. No wonder, if he didn't go, if he let her go alone." She bit her lip, distressed. "What a horrible thing to find out about your own father."
"Yeah, well, I've got it worse," Deborah said, looking grim. "Both my parents didn't go. And neither did yours," she added to the Hendersons, who looked at each other and scowled.
"While those of us with no parents are lucky?" Melanie asked, raising her eyebrows.
"At least you know they had guts," Deborah said shortly. "You and Adam and Laurel and Nick have something to be proud of. I'd rather be raised by a grandmother or a great-aunt than have parents who scream at each other all the time because they're so ashamed of themselves."
Cassie was watching Nick again, and she saw something leave his face, some tension that had been there ever since she'd known him. It made him look different, softer somehow, more vulnerable. At that moment he raised his eyes and met hers, catching her in the act of watching him. Cassie wanted to look away, but she couldn't, and to her surprise there was no hostility in his gaze. His mouth crooked slightly in a wry, relieved smile, and she found herself almost smiling back in sympathy.
Then she realized Faye was looking at them. Turning back, she spoke quickly to the entire group.
"The ones who died were killed because our parents didn't all stick together. That's what my grandmother said, anyway. She said that we were the ones in danger now, because Black John's come to take us back. He still wants his coven, and now he's alive again - a living, breathing man. She said that he won't look burned and awful when we see him again, and we might not recognize him, but we have to be ready for him."
"Why?" Adam asked, his level voice seeming loud in the sudden silence. "Just what did she think he's going to do?"
Cassie lifted her hands. There was no longer a guilty secret between her and Adam, but every time she looked at him, she felt - a connection. A new connection, that of two people who'd been tried by fire and had come out stronger. There would always be an understanding between them.
"I don't know what he's going to do," she told Adam. "Fool us, my grandma said. Get us to follow him the way our parents did. But how, I don't know."
"The reason 1 ask is because he may not want all of us," Adam said, still quietly. "You said he arranged for the eleven of us to be born - and if he joins the coven as its leader, that makes twelve. But you weren't one of the eleven, Cassie. Neither was Kori. And it looks like he got Kori out of the way."
Diana drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, my God - Cassie! You've got to leave. You've got to get out of New Salem, go back to California - " She stopped, because Cassie was shaking her head.
"I can't," Cassie said simply. "My grandma told me I had to stay and fight. She said that was why my mom brought me back, so I could fight him. I may be half outsider, but I guess I'm one kid he didn't plan, so maybe I have some kind of advantage."
"Don't be modest," Deborah broke in caustically. "The old lady told us it was because your family was always the strongest. You've got the clearest sight and the most power, she said."
"And I've got our Book of Shadows, now," Cassie said, somewhat embarrassed, bending to take the red leather book out of her backpack. "My grandmother had it hidden behind a loose brick in the kitchen fireplace. Black John wanted it, so there must be something in it that he's afraid of. I'm going to read it and try to find out what that something is."
"What can the rest of us do?" Laurel asked. Cassie realized the question was directed at her; except for Faye, who was glowering, they were all looking at her expectantly. Flustered, she lifted her hands again and shook her head.
"We can talk to the old ladies in the town who're still alive," Deborah suggested. "That's my idea, anyway. Cassie's grandma said our parents have forgotten about magic, that they made themselves forget to survive. But I figure the old ladies might not have forgotten, and we can question them. Like Laurel's Granny Quincey, and Adam's grandma, old Mrs. Franklin. Even your great-aunt, Mel."
Melanie looked doubtful. "Great-aunt Constance doesn't approve of the old ways at all. She's pretty - inflexible - about it."
"And Granny Quincey is so frail," Laurel said. "As for old Mrs. Franklin - well, she's not always all there."
"To put it tactfully," Adam said. "Let's face it, my grandmother can get pretty loopy at times. But I think Deborah's right; they're all we've got, so we have to make the most of them. We can try to pump some parents for information, too . . . what have we got to lose?"
"An arm and an eye, if it's my father you're pumping," Suzan muttered, holding her fingers in a shaft of sunlight to examine her nails. But Chris and Doug Henderson grinned wildly and said they'd be happy to interrogate all the parents.
"We'll say, 'Hey, -remember that guy you fried like Freddy Krueger sixteen years ago? Well, he's back, so can you, like, give us any help in recognizing him?'" Doug said with relish.