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"Right," Adam said. "Halloween night, then." Cassie thought it was unusual that he was taking over the

job of coven leader this way, but then she looked at Diana. Diana looked as if she were holding some

turmoil inside her tightly under control. For a moment Cassie felt sorry for her, but then her own misery

and conflict welled up. She left the meeting quickly, without speaking to Diana.

In the weeks before Halloween, the real cold set in, although the leaves were still bronze and crimson.

Cassie's bedroom smelled of camphor because her grandmother had brought old quilts out of storage to

pile on her bed. The last of the herbs had been gathered, and the house was decorated with autumn

flowers, marigolds and purple asters. Every day after school Cassie found her grandmother in the

kitchen, cooking oceans of applesauce to jar, until the whole house smelled of hot apple pulp and

cinnamon and spices.

Pumpkins mysteriously appeared on everybody's back porch-but only Cassie and the Hendersons knew

where they came from.

Things didn't get better with Diana.

A guilty part inside Cassie knew why. She didn't want to fight with Diana-but it was so much easier not

having to worry about her all the time. If she wasn't always talking to Diana, wasn't over at Diana's house

every day, she didn't have to think about how hurt Diana would be if Diana ever found out the truth.

The shameful secrets inside Cassie didn't rub her so much when Diana was at a distance.

So when Diana tried to make up, Cassie was polite but a little cool. A little-detached. And when Diana

asked why Cassie was still mad, Cassie said she wasn't still mad, and why couldn't Diana just leave

things alone? After that, Diana did.

So when Diana tried to make up, Cassie was polite but a little cool. A little-detached. And when Diana

asked why Cassie was still mad, Cassie said she wasn't still mad, and why couldn't Diana just leave

things alone? After that, Diana did.

She thought about what Deborah had said about Nick. He gets in bad moods sometimes, but that

doesn't mean you should give up. Of course, there was no way Cassie could go back and ask Nick

again. At least, there was no way the old Cassie could have. There seemed to be a new Cassie now, a

stronger, harder one-at least on the outside. And she had to do something, because every night she

thought about Adam and ached, and she was afraid of what might happen if she went to that dance

unattached.

The day before Halloween she walked up to Nick's garage again.

The skeleton-car looked just the same. Its entire engine was out, resting on a sort of bottomless table

made of pipes. Nick was underneath the table.

Cassie knew better than to ask him what he was doing this time. She saw him see her feet, saw his gaze

travel up. Then he scooted out from under the table and stood up.

His dark hair was spiky with sweat, and he wiped his forehead with the back of a greasy hand. He didn't

say anything, just stood there looking at her.

Cassie didn't give herself time to think. Focusing all her attention on an oil stain on his T-shirt, she said

rapidly, "Are you going to the Halloween dance tomorrow?"

There was a long, long silence. Cassie stared at the oil stain while Nick stared at her face. She could

smell rubber and warm metal as well as grease and a faint hint of gasoline. She felt as if she were hanging

suspended in air.

Then Nick said, "No."

Everything came crashing down. Cassie felt it, and for some reason she was suddenly able to look Nick

in the face.

"Oh," she said flatly. Oh, stupid, stupid, she was thinking. The new Cassie was as dumb as the old one.

She should never have come here.

"I don't see why you want to know in the first place," Nick said. Then he added, "It's got something to do

with Conant, doesn't it?"

Cassie tensed. "Adam? What are you talking about? What could my asking you to a dance have to do

with Adam?" she said, but she could feel the blood rise to her face.

Nick was nodding. "I thought so. You've really got it bad. And you don't want him to know, so you're

looking for a substitute, right? Or are you trying to make him jealous?"

Cassie's face was burning now, but hotter was the flame of rage and humiliation inside her. She wouldn't

cry in front of Nick, she 'wouldn't.

"Sorry for bothering you," she said, and, feeling stiff and sore, she turned around to walk away.

"Wait a minute," Nick said. Cassie went on walking and reached the golden October sunlight. Her eyes

were fixed on the fading scarlet leaves of a red maple across the street.

were fixed on the fading scarlet leaves of a red maple across the street.

Cassie turned around and stared at him.

God, he was handsome, but so cold . . . even now he looked completely dispassionate, indifferent. The

sun caught blue glints off his dark hair, and his face was like a perfectly carved ice sculpture.

"I don't want to go with you anymore," Cassie told him bleakly, and started away again.

He moved in front of her, blocking her without touching her. "I'm sorry I said the thing about trying to

make Conant jealous. That was just . . ." He stopped and shrugged. "I didn't mean it. I don't know

what's going on, and it's none of my business, anyway. But I'd like to go to the dance with you."

I'm hallucinating, Cassie thought. I've got to be. I thought I just heard Nick apologize . . . and then say

he'd like to go with me. I must have a fever.

"So what time do you want me to pick you up?" Nick said again.

Cassie was having trouble breathing, so her voice was faint. "Um, about eight would be fine. We're all

changing into our costumes at Suzan's house."

"Okay. I'll see you there."

On Halloween night, in Suzan's Greek Revival house, the girls of Crowhaven Road prepared themselves.

This night was different than the evening of the Homecoming dance. For one thing, Cassie knew what she

was doing now. Suzan had taught her how to do her own makeup, in exchange for Cassie helping Suzan

with her costume.

They'd all taken baths with fresh sage leaves; Laurel's orders, for enhancing their psychic powers. Cassie

had also washed in milk of roses-rosewater and oil of sweet almonds-for softening her skin and to smell

nice. Cassie's grandmother had helped her plan and make her costume, which consisted mainly of panels

of thin gauze.

When she was finished that night, Cassie looked in Suzan's mirror and saw a girl slender as a candle

flame, dressed in something like mist, with an elusive, glancing beauty. The girl had hair like smoky topaz

curling around a delicate face, and as Cassie watched, rosy shadows bloomed on her pale skin.

She looked soft and touchable and sensuous, but that was all right, because she would be with Nick.

Cassie dabbed perfume behind her ears-not magnet oil but simply attar of roses-and tossed her scented

hair back. Well, there was a certain wistfulness in the girl's wildflower-blue eyes, but that couldn't be

helped. Nothing was going to cure that, ever.

She wasn't wearing any crystal to allure, only the hematite for iron-strength in a pouch under her costume.

"What are you?" Deborah said, looking into the mirror over her shoulder.

"I'm a muse. It's an old-time Greek thing; my grandmother showed it to me in a book. They weren't

goddesses, just sort of divine guides. They inspired people with creativity," Cassie said. She looked at

herself uncertainly. "I guess I'm Calliope; she was muse of poetry. The others were muses of history and

stuff."

Melanie spoke up. "Witches believe that there was only one muse before they got split up into nine. She

was the spirit of the arts, all of them. So maybe tonight you're her."

Melanie spoke up. "Witches believe that there was only one muse before they got split up into nine. She

was the spirit of the arts, all of them. So maybe tonight you're her."

Suzan had taken Cassie's suggestion and dressed up as Aphrodite, goddess of love. Cassie had gotten

the idea from Diana's prints and her grandmother's book of Greek myths. "Aphrodite was supposed to

be born from the sea," she said now. "That's the reason for all the shells."

Suzan's hair was loose around her shoulders, and her robe was the color of sea foam. Iridescent sequins,

seed pearls, and tiny shells decorated the mask she held in her hand.

Laurel was a fairy. "A nature spirit," she said, pivoting to show long, curving dragonfly wings. She was

wearing a garland of leaves and silk flowers on her head.

"Everyone looks great," a soft voice said, and Cassie turned and caught her breath. Diana wasn't even

dressed up, or at least she was only wearing her ceremonial costume, the one she wore at Circles. But

she appeared to be wreathed in her own light and she was beautiful beyond description.

Laurel spoke quietly in Cassie's ear. "She's not making fun of it or anything, you know. Halloween's our

most magical holiday of the year. She's honoring it."

"Oh," Cassie murmured. Her eyes slid to Faye.

Faye, she guessed, was a witch. The kind that guys were afraid of. She was wearing a sleeveless black

dress, like a parody of the white shift Diana wore at meetings of the Circle. It was slit up both sides to the

hip, and cut to show every curve. The material shimmered like silk when she walked.

There are going to be some hearts broken at the dance tonight, Cassie thought.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and the girls all went down in their fluttering draperies and rippling gowns

to meet the guys. The Club was going to this dance in a group, as they planned to leave in a group at

eleven thirty.

Nick was Cassie's date, but in that first moment all she could see was Adam. He was amazing. The

branched ends of stag antlers sprouted from a crown of oak leaves on his head, and he was wearing a

mask of oak leaves and acorns.

"He's Herne, the horned god," Melanie said. "Sort of like Pan, you know, a nature god. He's god of

animals, too-that's why he gets to take Raj with him."

Raj was there, trying to thrust his nose forward to give Cassie one of his embarrassingly warm greetings.

Adam-or Herne; it unnerved Cassie how natural he looked with the horns and the oak leaves-held the

dog back.

The other girls were laughing at the guys' costumes. "Sean," Laurel said, "you're skinny enough without

showing all your bones." He was dressed as a skeleton.

Chris and Doug had strange symbols painted on their faces: black and red triangles, yellow lightning

bolts. Their long hair was even more disheveled than usual. "We're Zax," they said, and everyone said,

"Who?"

Chris answered: "Zax the magician. He pulls cigarettes out of the air."

Chris answered: "Zax the magician. He pulls cigarettes out of the air."

Faye's slow, lazy voice broke in. "And just what are you supposed to be, Nick? The Man in Black?"

Cassie looked at Nick for the first time. He wasn't wearing a costume, just black jeans and a black

pullover sweater. He looked very handsome, very cool.

"I'm supposed to be her date," he said calmly, and without another look at Faye he held out his hand to

Cassie.

Faye can't mind, Cassie told herself as they walked to the line of cars outside. Faye doesn't want him

anymore; she shouldn't care who he goes with. But there was a thin coil of uneasiness in her stomach as

she let Nick guide her to the Armstrong car. Deborah and Laurel got in the back.

On the porches around them, jack-o'-lanterns had fiery grins and dancing flames for eyes. It was a

crystal moonlit night.

"A haunted night," Laurel said from the backseat. "Tonight spirits gather at all the windows and doors,

looking in. We always put a white candle in the window to guide them."

"Or a plate of food to feed them, so they don't try to come inside," Deborah said in a hollow voice.

Cassie laughed, but there was a slightly false note in the laughter. She didn't want spirits looking in her

windows. And as for what Laurel had said two weeks ago, about dead relatives coming back to visit the

living-well, Cassie didn't want that, either. She didn't know any of her dead relatives, except her father,

and he probably wasn't really dead. No, on the whole, she'd rather just leave all dead people alone.

But the Circle was planning to do just the opposite tonight.

The gym was decorated with owls, bats, and witches flying across giant yellow moons. Black and orange

crepe paper was wound around the girders and streamed from the basketball hoops. There were dancing

skeletons, spitting cats with arched backs, and surprised-looking ghosts on the walls.

It was all so fun and harmless. The ordinary students who'd come to dance and masquerade and drink

purple poison punch had no idea of the real darkness that lurked outside. Even the ones who hated the

Club didn't know the full truth.

Diana and Adam arrived together, making what must have been the most impressive entrance New

Salem High School had ever seen. Diana, in her simple white shift, with her bare throat and arms looking

as fresh as baby's skin, and her aureole of shining hair falling down her back, looked like a shaft of

moonlight that had somehow wandered accidentally into the gym.

And Adam-Adam always had a presence, a way of innately commanding respect from anyone smart

enough really to look at him. Tonight, as Herne, he was more arresting than ever. He seemed to be the

forest god, perilous and mischievous, awe-inspiring but not unkind. Above all, he looked wild. There was

nothing domesticated about him; he belonged in the open spaces, running underneath the stars. Raj