The Power Page 0,24

It was good advice, but she'd hoped - for what? For her own grandmother, she supposed. She wanted her grandmother, who had been so wise, and had somehow always made Cassie feel as if she were stronger than she'd thought.

"And keep reading that book your grandma gave you!" Granny Quincey said suddenly, looking right at Cassie. Cassie nodded and the old woman gave her a wrinkled but oddly intense smile.

Mrs. Franklin was smiling too, patting her knees and looking around as if she'd forgotten something.

"What's tomorrow?" she said.

There was a pause. Cassie wasn't sure if Adam's grandmother was speaking to them or to herself. But then she repeated, "What's tomorrow?" looking at them encouragingly.

"Uh - our birthday," Chris offered.

But Diana looked startled. "I think - I think it's the night of Hecate," she said. "Is that what you mean?"

"That's right," old Mrs. Franklin said comfortably. "Oh, when I was young, we would have done a ceremony. I remember ceremonies under the moon, when there were Indians in the shadows.. ."

Glances were exchanged. Mrs. Franklin couldn't possibly remember that; there hadn't been Indians around here for centuries.

But Diana was getting excited. "You think we should have a ceremony?"

"I would, dear," Mrs. Franklin said. "A girls' ceremony. We girls always had our secrets, didn't we, Connie? And we stuck together."

Diana looked a little puzzled, then nodded slowly, determinedly. "Yes. Yes. It would be good for the girls to get together - all the girls. And I think I know what kind of ceremony to have. It's not the right time of year, but that doesn't matter."

"I know you'll enjoy it, dear," Mrs. Franklin said. "Now let me see - Cassie!"

Cassie looked at her, startled.

"Cassie," Adam's grandmother said again. Her head was on one side, and she was sighing, the way you do when somebody shows you a picture of smiling baby. "Dear me, you are a pretty little thing, though you don't look at all like your mother. Still - " She broke off suddenly and looked around. "Hm?"

Great-aunt Constance was looking more severe than ever, her snapping eyes right on Mrs. Franklin. "Edith," she said, in a flat voice.

Mrs. Franklin looked at Granny Quincey, who was also staring at her with great concentration.

"Why - I was only going to say I could see a bit of her mother in her expression," she said, and nodded at Cassie pleasantly. "You try not to worry so much, dear. It'll all come right in the end."

Aunt Constance relaxed almost imperceptibly. "Yes. That's all, Melanie; you'd better take your friends away."

And that was that. The eleven of them got up and said thank you and good-bye politely, and then they were outside the big white house in the thin November sunlight.

"Whew!" said Cassie. "Adam, do you know what was going on there at the end?"

"Sorry," Adam said, grimacing. "She gets like that sometimes."

"It wasn't her so much as the other two," Cassie began, but Deborah broke in, impatient.

"So what's this night of Hecate thing?"

"It's the night of the crone," Diana said. "That's what Hecate stands for."

"The crone?" Suzan echoed in distaste, and Cassie knew what she meant. The word conjured up an unpleasant image - a stooped, wrinkled figure holding up a poisoned apple.

"Yes." Diana looked at Cassie. "It's not a bad thing, Cassie. Crone just means old woman - it's the last stage in a woman's life. Maiden, mother, then crone. Crones are wise and - well, tough. Not physically, maybe, but mentally. They've seen a lot; they've been through it, and they know things. They're the ones who pass things on to us."

"Like my grandmother," Cassie said, understanding dawning. Of course - that stooped, wrinkled figure was the very picture of her grandmother. Not a poisoned apple, then, she thought. If her grandmother offered anything to anybody, it was help. "Fairy tales give us the wrong idea," she said.

"Right." Diana nodded firmly. "When I'm old I hope I'm a crone like your grandmother."

"Whatever you want," Doug said, rolling his eyes.

"They're all trying to help," Melanie said. "Even Aunt Constance. But what are we going to do for the night of Hecate, Diana?"

"It's a night for fortune-telling and prophecies," Diana said, "and we have to find a crossroads where we can celebrate it. Hecate was the Greek goddess of crossroads - they're supposed to symbolize transformation. Starting on a new passage of life. It could be old age, or death, or some other kind of change."

"I think we're all at a crossroads," Melanie said