was taking shape, and as Cassie watched, it became more and more solid. She could see a steeply pitched roof, flat clapboard walls, small windows irregularly placed. A door made of heavy planks. It looked like the old wing of her grandmother's house, the original dwelling from 1693.
It shone with a dull light, like the blood-red moon.
"Is it real?" Deborah whispered.
Cassie had to wait a moment to get the breath to speak. "It's real now," she said. "Right now, for a few minutes, it's real."
"It's horrible," Laurel whispered.
Cassie knew what she was feeling, what the whole coven was feeling. The house was evil, in the same way that the skull was evil. It looked twisted, askew, like something out of a nightmare. And it gripped all of them with an instinctual terror. Cassie could hear Chris and Doug breathing hard.
"Don't go near it," Nick said tightly. "Everybody stay back until he comes out."
"Don't worry," Deborah assured him. "Nobody's going near that."
Cassie knew better.
The inner voice, silent just a few moments ago, was telling her clearly now what she had to do. What it wasn't telling her was how to get up the courage to do it.
She looked behind her, at the rest of them standing there. The Club. The Circle. Her friends.
Ever since her initiation, Cassie had been so happy to be a part of this group. She'd relied on different members of it at different times, crying on Diana and clinging to Nick and Adam when she needed them. But now there was something she had to do, and not even Nick or Adam could help her with it. Not even Diana could go with her.
"I have to go alone," she said.
She figured out that she'd said it aloud when she saw them all staring at her. The next instant they were all protesting.
"Don't be crazy, Cassie. That's his territory; you can't go in there," Deborah said.
"Anything could happen. Let him come out," Nick told her.
"It's too dangerous. We won't let you go by yourself," Adam said flatly.
Cassie looked at him reproachfully, because he was the one who'd said that being coven leader might not be good for her; and he was right, so he was the one who should understand now. Of course this was dangerous, but she had to do it. Black John - John Blake - Jack Brunswick, whatever you wanted to call him - had summoned her here, and he was waiting for her inside. And Cassie had to go.
"If you didn't want to listen to me you shouldn't have elected me leader," she said. "But I'm telling you now, that's what he wants. He isn't coming out. He wants me to go in."
"But you don't have to," Chris said, almost pleading.
Of them all, only Diana was silent. She stood, mouth trembling, tears hanging on her lashes. It was to her that Cassie spoke. "Yes, I do," she said.
And Diana, who understood about being a leader, nodded.
Cassie turned away before she could see Diana cry. "You stay here," she said to all of them, "until I come out. I'll be all right; I've got the Master Tools, remember?" Then she started walking toward the house. The nails in the heavy timber door were set in a pattern of swirls and diamonds. They seemed to glow redder than the wood around them. Cassie touched the iron door-handle hesitantly, but it was cool and solid to her fingers. The door swung open before her and she went inside. Everything here was slightly misty, like a red hologram, but it felt real enough. The kitchen was much like her grandmother's kitchen and it was empty. The parlor next door was the same. A flight of narrow, winding stairs rose from the back corner of the parlor.
Cassie climbed the steps, noting with a strange amusement the incongruity of the tin lantern hanging on the wall. It was giving off a cold, eerie red light, barely brighter than the house itself. The stairs were steep and her heart was pounding when she reached the top.
The first small bedroom was empty. So was the second. That left only the large room over the kitchen.
Cassie walked toward it without faltering. On the threshold she saw that the red glow in here was brighter, like the surface of the shadowed moon.
She went in.
He was inside, standing so tall that his head almost touched the uneven ceiling. He was giving off a light of pure evil. His face was triumphant and cruel, and