"With Great-aunt Constance it's not so much nice; it's duty," Melanie said, turning to go. "Great-aunt Constance believes in doing your duty."
So do I, Cassie thought, pausing as she picked up a bundle of clothes from the bed. So do I. "I just thought of something - I'll be down in a second," she said.
What she'd thought of was the hematite. One-handed, she opened the jewelry box on the dresser - and then stiffened. She stirred through the contents of the box with her fingers, but it was no use.
The piece of hematite was gone.
Panic swelled in Cassie's throat. She'd kept meaning to do something about the stone, but now that it was out of her hands she realized how dangerous she thought it really was.
This time, she told herself, you are not going to keep it a secret and worry and stew about it all by yourself. This time you're going to do what you should have done in the beginning, which is tell Diana.
Cassie went downstairs. Diana and Laurel were in the herb garden, salvaging things Laurel thought might be useful. Cassie squared her shoulders.
"Diana," she said, "I've got something to tell you."
Diana's green eyes widened when Cassie explained about the hematite, how she'd found it, how she'd kept it a secret. No one had known about it except Deborah - and Faye.
"And now it's gone," Cassie said. "I don't think that means anything good."
"No," Diana said slowly. "I'm sure it doesn't. Cassie, don't you see, when you were carrying the hematite, it affected you. It made you do things . . . were you wearing it at the Halloween dance when you tried to make Adam kiss you?"
"I ... yes." Cassie could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. "But, Diana - I wish I could say the hematite made me do that, but it didn't. It was just me. I wanted to."
"Maybe, but I'll bet you'd wanted to before and you didn't actually do it. Hematite might not force you to do things against your will, but it makes it easier to give in to things you normally wouldn't."
"Like onyx. Surrender to your shadow-self," Cassie whispered.
"Yes," said Diana.
"It must be one of us who has it; one of the Circle," Cassie said. "Because I put it in the box this morning and nobody else has been by the house today. But which one of us?"
Diana shook her head. Laurel grimaced. "I stick to plants," she said. "They're safer, as long as you respect them and know what you're doing. They don't influence you."
At Diana's suggestion, the three of them searched Cassie's room again. But the hematite was nowhere to be found.
Cassie went to school on Thursday. It was strange to sit in her writing class and see life going on around her as usual. All these people - students counting the days until Thanksgiving vacation, teachers giving their lectures, the vice-principal walking through the halls and looking harried - had no idea what was loose in their community, just waiting to strike again. Of course, Cassie didn't know exactly, either. What form was Black John going to take now? What would he look like when she saw him next? But she knew there was danger.
Faye didn't show up for English. Cassie had to stay after class to explain to Mr. Humphries why she'd been absent for two days. He was sympathetic and told her to take extra time for her next assignment, but it was hard to get away from him. Cassie was already late for algebra when she hurried into the third-floor bathroom. But once in a stall, she heard voices outside that made her freeze and forget the time.
They were carrying on a conversation that had obviously been going for a while.
"And then she was supposed to go back to California," the first voice was saying. Cassie had heard it too many times not to recognize it. Portia. "But that was obviously a lie too, if it's the same Cassie I knew."
"What did you say she looked like?" asked the other voice. A strident, contentious voice. Cassie recognized Sally Waltman.
"Oh, she's just a little nonentity. She's completely average, average height, a little taller than you ..."
A throat-clearing sound from Sally.
"Not that you're short, of course. You're - petite. Anyway, she's got a fairly slim build, and everything about her is just ordinary: ordinary brownish hair, ordinary little face, ordinary clothes - not anything to write home about. Overall, she's unutterably dreary - "
"It's not the same Cassie," Sally interrupted curtly. "This one had every guy at Homecoming dance following her around with his tongue hanging out. Including 11151 boyfriend - and look where it got him. She looks ordinary at first, maybe, but there are all sorts of colors in her hair; it changes depending on the light. I'm serious. And I'm sure it's just an act, but she's the kind that looks all fragile and sweet, the kind guys are just dying to take care of - and then she starts ordering them around. And she gets away with it, probably because she opens those great big eyes and pretends she thinks she's inadequate. The 'Oh, I'm just the girl next door, but I'll do my best' routine - they lap it up."
Cassie opened her mouth indignantly, then closed it again.
"And she's got eyes to kill for," Sally was going on bitterly. "Not the color, so much - they're sort of grayish blue - but they're so big and sincere it's disgusting. They always look like they're full of tears just ready to spill. Drives the guys crazy."
"It is the same girl," Portia said positively.