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good, she thought, watching them talk fervently, fired with the discussion. They really had acted with the

best of intentions. She, Cassie, was different. She was-evil.

Cassie knew things that they didn't know. Things she could never tell them.

Diana was nice when the time came for Cassie to go. "Adam had better drive you home," she said.

Adam did. They didn't speak until they reached Cassie's house.

"How're you hanging on?" he said quietly then.

Cassie couldn't look at him. She had never wanted comfort more, never wanted to throw herself into his

arms as much as she did now. She wanted to tell him the whole story about Faye and the skull, and listen

to him say that it was all right, that she didn't have to face it alone. She wanted him to hold her.

She could feel him wanting that too, just inches away in the driver's seat.

"I'd better go inside," she said shakily.

Adam was gripping the steering wheel so hard it looked as if he were trying to break it.

"Good night," she said softly, still without looking at him.

There was a long, long pause while she felt Adam fight with himself. Then he said, "Good night, Cassie,"

in a voice drained of all energy.

Cassie went inside. She couldn't talk to her mother or her grandmother about this either, of course. She

could just imagine it: "Hi, Mom; you remember Jeffrey Lovejoy? Well, I helped kill him." No, thank you.

It was a strange thought, knowing you were evil. It floated around in Cassie's mind as she lay in bed that

night, and just before she fell asleep it got weirdly mixed up with visions of Faye's honey-colored eyes.

Wicked, she could almost hear Faye chuckling throatily. You're not evil, you're just wicked . . . like me.

The dream started out beautifully. She was in her grandmother's garden, in the summer, when everything

was blossoming. Lemon balm spilled a golden pool on the ground. Lavender, lily of the valley, and

jasmine were throwing such sweet scents into the air that Cassie felt giddy.

Cassie bent to snap off a stem of honeysuckle, with its tiny, creamy flowerheads. The sun shone down,

warming her shoulders. The sky was clear and spacious. Strangely, although this was her grandmother's

garden, there was no house nearby. She was all alone in the bright sunshine.

Then she saw the roses.

They were huge, velvety, red as rubies. No roses like that grew wild. Cassie took a step toward them,

then another. Dew stood in the curl of one of the rose petals, quivering slightly. Cassie wanted to smell

one of them, but she was afraid.

She heard a throaty chuckle beside her.

"Faye!"

Faye smiled slowly. "Go ahead, smell 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-"

"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-"

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 to have a little pizza party. You'll help out getting

things ready, won't you?"

Cassie was tingling with relief. A pizza party. She'd been imagining-oh, all sorts of strange things. "I'll

help," she said.

"Then let's get started. Suzan will show you what to do."

Cassie followed Suzan's directions. They lit the red and pink candles and started a low, crackling fire in

the fireplace. They lit incense, too, which Suzan said was composed of ginger root, cardamom, and neroli

oil. It was pungent, but delicious smelling.

Faye, meanwhile, was placing crystals about the room. Cassie recognized them-garnets and carnelians,

fire opals and pink tourmelines. And Suzan, Cassie noticed, was wearing a carnelian necklace which

harmonized with her strawberry-blond hair, while Faye was wearing more than her usual number of star

rubies.

Deborah switched off the lamps and went to fiddle with the stereo. The music that began to rise was like

nothing Cassie had ever heard. It was low and throbbing, some primal beat that seemed to get into her

blood. It started out softly, but seemed to be getting almost imperceptibly louder.

"All right," Faye said, standing back to survey their work. "It's looking good. I'll get the drinks."

Cassie looked over the room herself. Warm; it looked warm and inviting, especially when compared with

the chilly October weather outside. The candles and the fire made a rosy glow, and the soft, insistent

music filled the air. The incense was spicy, intoxicating, and somehow sensuous, and the smoke threw a

slight haze over the room.

It looks like an opium den or something, Cassie thought, simultaneously fascinated and horrified, just as

Faye came back with a silver tray.

Cassie stared. She'd expected, maybe, a six-pack of soda-or maybe a six-pack of something else,

knowing Deborah. She should have known Faye would never stoop to anything so inelegant. On the tray

was a crystal decanter and eight small crystal glasses. The decanter was half full of some clear

ruby-colored liquid.

"Sit down," Faye said, pouring into four of the glasses. And then, at Cassie's doubtful look, she smiled.

"It's not alcoholic. Try it and see. Oh, go on."

Warily, Cassie took a sip. It had a subtle, faintly sweet taste and it made her feel flushed with warmth

right down to her fingertips.

"What's in it?" she asked, peering into her glass.

"Oh, this and that. It's-stimulating, isn't it?"

"Mmm." Cassie took another sip.

"And now," Faye smiled, "we can play Pizza Man."

There was a pause, then Cassie said, "Pizza Man?"

"Pizza Man He Delivers," Suzan said, and giggled.

"Otherwise known as watching guys make fools of themselves," Deborah said, grinning savagely. She

might have gone on, but Faye interrupted.

"Let's not tell Cassie; let's just show her," she said. "Where's the phone?" Deborah handed her a

cordless phone.

Suzan produced the yellow pages, and after a few moments of thumbing and scanning, read out a

number.

Faye dialed. "Hello?" she said pleasantly. "I'd like to order a large pizza, with pepperoni, olives, and

mushrooms." She gave her address and phone number. "That's right, New Salem," she said. "Can you tell

me how long it will be? All right; thanks. 'Bye."

She hung up, looked at Suzan, and said, "Next."

And then, to Cassie's growing astonishment, she did it all over again.

Six times.

By the end of it, Faye had ordered seven large pizzas, all with the same toppings. Cassie, who was

feeling somewhat dizzy from the smell of incense, wondered just how many people Faye was planning to

feed.

"Who's coming to this party-the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir?" she whispered to Suzan. Suzan

dimpled.

"I hope not. It's not choirboys we're interested in."

"That's enough," said Faye. "Just wait, Cassie, and you'll see."

When the doorbell rang the first time, Faye, Suzan, and Deborah went into the parlor and looked through

the window. Cassie followed and looked too. The porch light revealed a young man holding a greasy

cardboard box.

"Hmm," said Faye. "Not bad. Not terrific, but not bad."

"I think he's fine," Suzan said. "Look at those shoulders. Let's take him."

With Cassie trailing behind, they all went into the hall.

"Well, hello," Faye said, opening the door. "Do you mind coming inside and putting it over here? I left my

purse in the other room." As Cassie watched with widening eyes, they escorted the guy into the warmth

of the luxurious, richly scented den. Cassie saw him blink, then saw a stupefied expression cross his face.

Deborah took the pizza from him. "You know," Faye said, biting the pen she had poised over a

checkbook, "you look a little tired. Why don't you sit down? Are you thirsty?"

Suzan was pouring a glassful of the clear ruby liquid. She held it out to him with a smile. The delivery boy

wet his lips, looking dazed.

Cassie could understand why. She thought there was probably no guy in the world who could resist

Suzan, with her cloud of strawberry-gold hair and her low-cut blouse, holding out a crystal glass. Suzan

leaned over a little farther as she offered it to him, and the guy took the drink.

Cassie could understand why. She thought there was probably no guy in the world who could resist

Suzan, with her cloud of strawberry-gold hair and her low-cut blouse, holding out a crystal glass. Suzan

leaned over a little farther as she offered it to him, and the guy took the drink.

"My name's Suzan," Suzan said to the guy, as she sank into the cushiony couch beside him. "What's

yours?"

Deborah had barely returned when the doorbell rang again.

TEN

"Yuck," Deborah said, as they peered out the parlor window again. This delivery guy was skinny, with

lank hair and acne.

Faye was already moving to the front door. "Pizza? We didn't order any pizza. I don't care who you

called to confirm it, we don't want it." She shut the door in his face, and after a few minutes of hanging

around the porch he went away.