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As his delivery van was pulling out, another one pulled in. The tall, blond guy with the cardboard box

kept looking behind him at the receding rival van as he walked to the door.

"Now this is more like it," Faye said.

When they brought the blond delivery guy into the den, Suzan and the muscular one were entangled on

the couch. The pair disengaged themselves, the boy still looking foggy, and Faye poured the new guest a

drink.

Within the next hour, the doorbell rang four more times and they collected two more delivery boys.

Suzan divided her attention between the muscular one and a new one with high cheekbones who said he

was part Native American. The other new one, who looked younger than the others and had soft-brown

eyes, sat nervously next to Cassie.

"This is weird," he said, looking around the room, and taking another gulp from his glass. "This is so

weird ... I don't know what I'm doing. I've got deliveries to make . . ." Then he said, "Gee, you're pretty."

Gee? thought Cassie. Gosh. Golly. Oh, my God. "Thanks," she said weakly, and glanced around the

room for help.

None was forthcoming. Faye, looking sultry and exuding sensuality, was running one long crimson

fingernail up and down the blond guy's sleeve. Suzan was sunk deep in the couch with an admirer on

either side. Deborah was sitting on the arm of an overstuffed chair, eyes slitted and rather scornful.

"Can I put my arm around you?" the brown-eyed boy was asking hesitantly.

Boys aren't toys, Cassie thought. Even if this one did look like a teddy bear. Faye had brought these guys

here to play with, and that was wrong . . . wasn't it? They didn't know what they were doing; they didn't

have any choice.

"I just moved up here last summer from South Carolina," the boy was going on. "I had a girl back there .

. . but now I'm so lonely ..."

Cassie knew the feeling. This was a nice guy, her age, and his brown eyes, though a little glassy, were

appealing. She didn't scream when he put his arm around her, where it rested warmly and a little

awkwardly around her shoulders.

She felt light-headed. Something about the incense ... or the crystals, she thought. The music seemed to

be pulsing inside her. She should be embarrassed by what was going on in this room-she was

embarrassed-but there was something exciting about it too.

Some of the candles had gone out, making it darker.

The warmth around Cassie's shoulders was nice. She thought of yesterday night, when she'd wanted so

much for someone to comfort her, to hold her. To make her feel not alone.

"I don't know why, but I really like you," the brown-eyed boy was saying. "I never felt like this before."

Why not do it? She was already-bad. And she wanted to be close to somebody. , . .

The brown-eyed boy leaned in to kiss her.

That was when Cassie knew it was wrong. Not the way kissing Adam was wrong, but wrong for her.

She didn't want to kiss him. Every individual cell in her body was protesting, panicking. She wiggled out

from under him like an eel and jumped up.

Faye and the blond guy were also on their feet, heading out of the room. So were Suzan and her

unmatched pair.

"We're just going upstairs," Faye said in her husky voice. "There's more room up there. Lots of rooms, in

fact."

"No," Cassie said.

A hint of a frown creased Faye's forehead, then she smiled and went over to Cassie, speaking in low

tones. "Cassie, I'm disappointed in you," she said. "After your performance at the dance, I really thought

you were one of us. And it's not nearly as wicked as some other things you've done. You can do

anything you want with these guys, and they'll like it."

"No," Cassie said again. "You told me to come over and I did. But I don't want to stay." Her eyes were

smarting and she had trouble keeping her voice steady.

Faye looked exasperated. "Oh, all right. If you don't want to have fun, I can't make you. Go."

Relief washed over Cassie. With one glance back at the brown-eyed boy, she hurried to the door. After

last night's dream, she'd been so frightened . . . she hadn't been sure what Faye would do to her. But she

was getting away.

Faye's voice caught her at the door, and she waited until she had Cassie's full attention before speaking.

"Maybe next time," she said.

Cassie's entire skin was tingling as she hurried away from Faye's house. She just wanted to get home, to

be safe. . . .

"Hey, wait a minute," Deborah called after her.

Reluctantly, Cassie turned and waited. She was braced as if for a blow.

Reluctantly, Cassie turned and waited. She was braced as if for a blow.

"I'm leaving too. You want a ride?" she said.

Instantly memories of the last "ride" she'd accepted flashed through Cassie's mind. But she didn't exactly

like to refuse Deborah. After Faye's parting words, Cassie was feeling small and soft and vulnerable-like

something that could be easily squashed. And besides . . . well, it wasn't often Deborah made a gesture

like this.

"Okay, thanks," Cassie said after only a moment's hesitation. She didn't ask if they should be wearing

helmets. She didn't think Deborah would appreciate the question.

Cassie had never been on a motorcycle before. It seemed bigger when she was trying to get on it than it

had looked just standing there. Once she was on, though, it felt surprisingly stable. She wasn't afraid of

falling off.

"Hang on to me," Deborah said. And then, with an incredibly loud noise, they were moving.

It was the most exhilarating feeling-flying through the air. Like witches on broomsticks, Cassie thought.

Wind roared in Cassie's face, whipped her hair back. It whipped Deborah's hair into Cassie's eyes so

she couldn't see.

As Deborah accelerated, it became terrifying. Cassie was sure she'd never gone this fast before. The

wind felt icy cold. They were racing forward into darkness, far too fast for safety on a rural road. The

houses on Crowhaven were far behind. Cassie couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Everything was the wind

and the road and the feeling of speed.

I'm going to die, Cassie thought. She almost didn't care. Something this electrifying was worth dying for.

She was sure Deborah couldn't take this next corner.

"Relax!" Deborah shouted, her voice snatched away by the wind. "Relax! Don't fight the way I'm

leaning."

How can you relax when you're plunging at practically a hundred miles an hour into darkness? Cassie

thought. But then she found out how: you give yourself up to it. Cassie resigned herself to her fate, and let

the speed and the wind take her. And, magically, everything was all right.

She was aware, eventually, that they were heading back up Crowhaven Road, past Diana's house, past

the others. They overshot Cassie's house and stormed around the vacant lot at the point of the headland.

Dust sprayed up on either side. Cassie saw the cliff whip by and buried her head in Deborah's shoulder.

Then they were leaning, they were slowing, they were spiraling to a stop.

"So," said Deborah, when the world was still again, "what'd you think?"

Cassie lifted her head and made her fingers stop clutching. Every inch of her was as icy as if she'd been

standing in a freezer. Her hair was matted and her lips and ears and nose were numb. .

"It was wonderful," she gasped. "Like flying."

Deborah burst into laughter, jumped off, and slapped Cassie on the back. Then she helped Cassie off.

Cassie couldn't stop shivering.

Deborah burst into laughter, jumped off, and slapped Cassie on the back. Then she helped Cassie off.

Cassie couldn't stop shivering.

Cassie looked. Far below, the dark water crashed and foamed around the rocks. It was a long way

down.

But there was something beautiful, too. Over the vast gray curve of ocean, an almost half-full moon hung.

It cast a long wavering trail of light along the water, pure silver on the darkness.

"It looks like a road," Cassie said softly, through chattering teeth. "Like you could ride on it."

She looked at Deborah quickly, not sure how the biker girl would take to such a fancy. But Deborah

gave a short nod, her narrowed eyes still on the silver path.

"That would be the ultimate. Just ride till you fly straight off the edge. I guess that was what the old-time

witches wanted," she said.

Cassie felt a warmth even through her shivering. Deborah felt what she herself had felt. And now Cassie

understood why Deborah rode a motorcycle.

"We better go," Deborah said abruptly.

On the way back to the motorcycle Cassie stumbled, falling to one knee. She looked back and saw that

she had tripped on a piece of brick or stone.

"I forgot to tell you; there used to be a house here," Deborah said. "It got torn down a long time ago, but

there're some pieces of foundation left."

"I think I just found one," Cassie said.

Rubbing her knee, she was starting to get up when she noticed something beside the brick. It was darker

than the soil it was resting on and yet it shone faintly in the moonlight.

She picked it up and found that it was smooth and surprisingly heavy. And it did shine; it reflected the

moonlight like a black mirror.

"It's hematite," said Deborah, who'd come back to look. "It's a powerful stone-for iron-strength, Melanie

says." She knelt down suddenly beside Cassie, tossing tangled hair out of her eyes. "Cassie! It's your

working crystal."

A thrill which seemed to come from the stone rippled through Cassie. Holding the smooth piece of

hematite was like holding an ice cube, but all the things that Melanie had said would happen when she

found her own personal crystal were happening now. It fit her hand, it felt natural there. She liked the

weight of it. It was hers.

Elated, she lifted her head to smile up at Deborah, and in the chilly moonlight Deborah smiled fiercely

back.

It was when she was dropping Cassie off at Number Twelve that she said, "I heard you came to see

Nick yesterday."

"Oh-um," Cassie said. That meeting with Nick in the garage seemed like centuries ago, not yesterday.

"Uh, I didn't come to see him," she stammered. "I was just walking by . . ."

Deborah shrugged. "Anyway, I thought I'd tell you-he gets in bad moods sometimes. But that doesn't

mean you should give up. Other times he's okay."

Deborah shrugged. "Anyway, I thought I'd tell you-he gets in bad moods sometimes. But that doesn't

mean you should give up. Other times he's okay."

She couldn't find a way to finish, and Deborah wasn't waiting anyway. "Whatever. See you later. And

don't lose that stone!" Dark hair flying, the biker girl zoomed off.

Up in her room, Cassie's legs felt weak from tension, and she was tired. But she lay in bed for a while

and held the hematite on her palm, tilting it back and forth to watch the light slide over it. For

iron-strength, she thought.

It wasn't like the chalcedony rose; it gave her no feeling of warmth and comfort. But then the chalcedony

rose was all mixed up in her mind with Adam and his blue-gray eyes. Diana had the rose now, and Diana

had Adam.

And Cassie had a stone which brought a strange coolness to her thoughts, a coolness that seemed to

extend to her heart. For iron-strength, she thought again. She liked that.

"And so that's what Cassie believes, that each of the deaths-even Kori's-is connected to the skull, and to

Puritan ways of killing people," Diana said. She looked around the circle of faces. "Now it's up to us to

do something about it."

Cassie was watching Faye. She wanted to see the reaction in those hooded golden eyes when Diana

explained about the dark energy that had escaped during the skull ceremony, killing Jeffrey. Sure enough,

when Diana got to that part, Faye shot a glance at Cassie, but there was nothing apologetic or guilty

about it. It was a look of conspiracy. Only you and I know, it said. And I won't tell if you won't.

I'm not that stupid, Cassie telegraphed back angrily, and Faye smiled.

It was Sunday night and they were all sitting on the beach. Diana hadn't been able to find out much from

her own Book of Shadows about dealing with evil objects like the skull, and she was calling for

everyone's help.

It was the first full meeting of the Circle in three weeks, since the day after Mr. Fogle had been found

dead. Cassie scanned the faces above thick jackets and sweaters-even New Englanders had to bundle

up in this weather- and wondered what was going on in each individual witch's head.

Melanie was grave and thoughtful as usual, as if she neither believed nor disbelieved Cassie's theory, but

was willing to test it out scientifically. Laurel just looked appalled. Suzan was examining the stitching on

her gloves. Deborah was scowling, unwilling to give up the idea that outsiders had killed Kori. Nick-well,

who could tell what Nick thought? Sean was chewing his fingernails.

The Henderson brothers were agitated. For a terrible instant Cassie thought they were going to turn their

energy on Adam, blame him for Kori's being killed. But then Doug spoke up.

"So how come we're still sittin' around talking? Let me have the skull-I'll take care of it," he said, teeth

bared.

"Yeah-let Doug have it," Sean chimed in.

"It can't be destroyed, Doug," Melanie said patiently.

"Oh, yeah?" Chris said. "Put it in with a pipe bomb-"

"And nothing would happen. Crystal skulls can't be destroyed, Doug," Melanie repeated. "That's in all the