The Captive Page 0,36

them," she said. "They won't bite you." But Cassie shook her head. Her heart was beating quickly.

"Oh, come on, Cassie." Faye's voice was coaxing now. "Look over there. Doesn't that look interesting?"

Cassie looked. Behind the roses something impossible had happened. Night had fallen, even though it was still daylight where Cassie was standing. It was a cool black-and-purple night, broken by stars but not a trace of moon.

"Come with me, Cassie," Faye coaxed again. "It's just a few little steps. I'll show you how easy it is." She walked behind the rosebush and Cassie stared at her. Faye was standing in darkness now, her face shadowed, her glorious hair merging with the gloom.

"You might as well," Faye told her softly, inexorably. "After all, you're already like me- or had you forgotten? You've already made your choice."

Cassie's hand let the honeysuckle spray fall. Slowly, slowly, she reached out and picked one of the roses. It was such a deep red, and so soft.

Cassie stared down into it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Faye murmured. "Now bring it here."

Mesmerized, Cassie took a step. There was a line of wavering shadow on the ground, between the darkness and the day. Cassie took another step and a sudden sharp pain in her finger made her gasp.

The rose had pricked her. Blood was streaming down her wrist. All the thorns on the roses were crimson, as if they'd been dipped in blood.

Appalled, she looked up at Faye, but she saw only darkness and heard only that mocking chuckle. "Maybe next time," Faye's voice floated out of the shadows.

Cassie woke up with her heart pounding, eyes staring into the blackness of her room. When she turned the light on, she almost expected to see blood on her arm. But there was no blood, and no mark of any thorn on her finger.

Thank God, she thought. It was a dream, just a dream. Still, it was a long time before she could fall asleep again.

She woke again to the ringing of the phone.

By the color of the light against the eastern window she knew she'd slept late.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Cassie," a familiar voice said in her ear.

Cassie's heart jumped. Instantly the entire dream flashed before her. In a panic, she expected Faye to start talking throatily about roses and darkness.

But Faye's voice was ordinary. "It's Saturday, Cassie. Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Uh...no. But-"

"Because Deborah and Suzan and I are having a little get-together. We thought you might like to come."

"Faye ... I thought you were mad at me."

Faye laughed. "I was a little-miffed, yes. But that's over now. I'm proud of your success with the guys. It just shows you what a little witchery will do, hmm?"

Cassie ignored this; she'd had a sudden thought. "Faye, if you're planning to use the skull again, forget it. Do you want to know how dangerous it is?" She started to tell Faye what she'd discovered in the Witch Dungeon, but Faye interrupted.

"Oh, who cares about the skull anymore?"

she said. "This is a party. So we'll see you at around eight, then, all right? You will show up, won't you, Cassie? Because there might be- unfortunate consequences if you didn't. 'Bye!"

Deborah and Suzan will be there, Cassie told herself as she walked up to Faye's house that night. They won't let Faye actually kill me. The thought gave her some comfort.

And Faye, when she opened the door, seemed less sinister than usual. Her golden eyes were glimmering with something like mischief and her smile was almost playful.

"Come in, Cassie. Everybody's in the den," she said.

Cassie could hear music as they approached a room off the entrance hall. It was furnished in the same opulent and luxurious style as the rest of the house. Noise from a huge TV was competing with some song by Madonna being blasted out of a magnificent stereo unit. With all this technology, the dozens of candles stuck in various kinds of holders around the room seemed incongruous.

"Turn that stuff down," Faye ordered. Suzan, pouting, pointed a remote control at the stereo, while Deborah muted the TV. Apparently Faye had forgiven them as well.

"Now," Faye said, with a feline smile at Cassie, "I'll explain. The housekeeper has the day off, and my mother is sick in bed-"

"As usual," Deborah interrupted, to Cassie. "Her mom spends ninety-five percent of her life in bed. Nerves."

Faye's eyebrows arched and she said, "Yes, well, it's certainly convenient, isn't it? At times like this." She turned back to Cassie and went on, "So we're going