The Secret Circle:
Out of the Darkness
The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers. Portions of the dialogue on page 15 is from The Secret Circle: Volume III, The Power, page 293.
Chapter Five
Sean rode to school slower than he'd ever ridden on the Bianchi, hoping no one would see him, hoping he wouldn't have to talk to anybody.
He locked his bike to an empty rack and trudged up the path. He glanced at a clock, grabbed the textbooks and notebooks for his next few classes from his locker, and walked to his third period history class. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallways. He sat beside the wall across from the door, pulled the novel he was reading out of his backpack, and opened it, but he couldn't concentrate on the story. He waited, staring blankly at the page, until the bell rang ending second period. He hurried inside to an empty seat in the back of the room and opened his book again, pretending to read. No one spoke to him.
Sean walked through the crowded halls between the rest of his classes with his head down and his hair covering his eyes, not talking to anyone, trying not to look at anyone, hoping to remain unnoticed. He sat quietly in the back of each class; he spent the lunch hour in the library, finishing his homework.
The bell rang. Sean hurried from the library to his physics class. He found an empty chair near the back and sat down.
"Good afternoon," Ms. Murray said.
Sean jumped. He looked up quickly. The physics teacher was smiling at him and at a couple of outsiders sitting nearby. The outsiders returned her greeting.
"Hi," Sean said quietly. He tried to smile, and quickly ducked his head. He reached inside his backpack and pulled out his notebook and a pencil.
Suzan walked in a few minutes after class started. She nodded at him, found an empty chair at the next table, and took out her notebook and pencil and a Tupperware of cookies. She offered the cookies to him.
He shook his head. "No, thank you."
She shrugged and started eating.
Ms. Murray was talking enthusiastically about pendulums, and Galileo Galilei, and how the period of a pendulum's swing is not affected by the pendulum's mass – only by its length, gravity, and, to a lesser extent, the farthest angle it swings from the vertical.
Any object can be used as a pendulum, he knew. Clear quartz, peridot … a body – wearing brown leather shoes, dark brown slacks, blue sweater – curly brown hair, cyanotic face, blank, wide-eyed stare …
Sean froze. He couldn't move; he couldn't look away. He noticed vaguely that his heart was pounding; his breathing was too shallow, too fast. His vision was blurring. But all he could focus on was the body … swinging steadily from the partially frayed rope in front of him, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth –
"Sean!"
Sean started. A figure loomed over him. He hadn't noticed anyone approach. What if it was … but it couldn't be – he was … gone … it couldn't be him …
Breathe, he told himself. Calm down. Get a grip.
The figure stepped closer, and he cringed.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Suzan. It was only Suzan. Not Black John.
"Sean? What's the matter? You …"
"I'm fine. I'm just fine! So why can't everybody just leave me alone?" His voice rose to a yell. He felt eyes watching him. He looked around wildly.
Everybody was staring at him – even the teacher.
He jumped up and ran.
Someone called his name.
He kept going.
The door slammed behind him. He ran through the halls and out the back door to the granite outcrop past the cedar grove behind the old science building. He ducked into the little cave and sat there, leaning against the rock. He closed his eyes and put his hands flat on the Earth, reaching desperately for its steady, immovable energy.
But the Earth wasn't immovable.
An enormous granite boulder, perched precariously on the cliff above Devil's Cove for centuries – maybe even millennia – shifted as the crowbar in his hand pried loose some of the rocks and soil beneath it. It started to rock back and forth.
Push it down.
He did. The rock fell, pushing smaller rocks and dirt with it.
A scream broke the silence. Sean looked down. Mr. Fogle was sitting below the cliff, watching, immobile, as the boulder fell toward him, faster and faster and faster – the boulder landed. A spattering of rock and dirt followed. When the Earth settled, only a hand was visible beneath the boulder and the rock and soil that had accompanied it in its fall.
Sean stood there, unmoving, staring at that hand.
* * *
"Sean?"
He startled. He hadn't heard anyone approach, but Suzan was standing just below the rock, peering into the darkness of the cave.
"Are you all right?"
He shrugged and looked away. "I guess."
"You left your backpack and coat and stuff." Suzan walked around the rock and climbed across to the cave. She put the backpack down and handed him his coat.
He put it on. He hadn't noticed how cold it was inside the little cave. He hadn't even noticed that he was shivering. "Thanks."
"No problem." She sat beside him and opened her backpack. "I've still got some cookies left. They're gingersnaps – Laurel made them. You want some?"
He shook his head.
"They're pretty good. You know, for health stuff."
He shrugged. "Laurel's a good cook."
Suzan finished the cookies and zipped the Tupperware in her backpack.
"Are you ready to go home?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Seventh period ended half an hour ago." She looked at him sideways. "You, uh, you seemed to want to be alone, so I stuck around for the rest of class. But I had to give you your stuff. It took me a while to find you. You weren't in your algebra class or in the library. Laurel told me I should look here."
Sean looked away, staring at a patch of lichen growing in an indentation in the granite.
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "It's not your fault. You made it pretty clear that you didn't want me to find you."
He felt himself flush. "I'm sorry. I … I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"Don't worry about it. But are you ready now, or what? It's freezing out here."
He nodded. "Yeah." He scooted out of the cave and put his backpack on. He stopped and glanced at her sideways. "Uh, Suzan, didn't you ride with Faye today? She isn't still here, is she?"
"No. I told her Chris is giving us a ride home later. Which he is."
"Oh."
She looked at him. "I didn't tell them why. And they didn't ask."
He looked down at the rock. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"No problem." She climbed off the rock and led the way back toward the school.
* * *
A group of outsiders was standing near the front door of the old science building, talking. Their conversation ceased when Sean and Suzan came closer. Sean could see cold fury in their eyes as they looked at him and Suzan.
Sean cringed. His entire body was screaming at him to run away. He shook his head in disgust. You're being paranoid. They're only students. Just like you. Get a grip.
He kept walking, just behind Suzan, not looking at the outsiders.
And somebody jumped out at him from the shadow of the school building.
Sean jumped back. A tall boy wearing a winter coat and a baseball cap followed him. Footsteps were approaching from behind – the outsiders who'd been standing next to the old science building. Sean whirled around. He and Suzan were surrounded.
"We told you you're not welcome here anymore," one of them said. His voice was low and menacing. "You should have listened to us."
"Suzan, run," Sean muttered under his breath, trying not to move his lips as he spoke.
She hesitated, glancing at him uncertainly and turning to watch the outsiders.
"Go. Get out –"
The tall one threw a backfist at Sean. Sean ducked. He glanced at Suzan – she was running, past the outsiders, toward the main building of the school, glancing behind her as she ran.
Two of the outsiders were running after her.
Another fist came at Sean, and he jumped aside. He whirled around and darted forward, racing toward the two who were chasing Suzan. He caught up quickly and dashed between them. He turned and sprinted away from the main building, toward the parking lot. Heavy footsteps followed him.
He slowed and glanced over his shoulder. He didn't see Suzan anymore. The two who had been chasing her were following him now. So were five or six others. The tall boy wearing the baseball cap was gaining on him.
Sean ran faster.
The footsteps were falling behind. He was almost to the parking lot. He might be able to lose them there. Or among the red cedars behind the parking lot.
A figure stepped out from behind a big SUV – a big guy, tall and heavy. Another boy and a brown-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar stepped out from the other side. All three of them looked at Sean, and at the outsiders running behind him.
"He's one of them," the girl said, looking at Sean with an expression of pure loathing. The big guy who'd stepped out from the driver's side of the SUV lunged at Sean.
Sean turned and ran downhill, skirting the parking lot and racing toward the grove of red cedar on its far side. His breath was coming harder now. The outsiders from the parking lot weren't far behind. None of them seemed particularly fast, but they were fresh. And he wasn't.
He kept going, running as fast as he could, but they were gaining on him. He passed the parking lot and reached the cedars. Footsteps were just behind him now, but he couldn't run any faster. His pace was already faltering.
A hand reached out to grab him by the shoulder. Sean dodged and spun around, darting the other way, toward the old science building. The other boy's momentum carried him past.
Sean passed the old science building. His lungs were burning. He couldn't run much farther. Footsteps pounded the concrete behind him. Desperation gave him a last burst of speed. But the tall outsider was faster. He reached out and grabbed Sean by the arm, and pulled him to a stop.
A fist swung at him from nowhere. Sean ducked. He dodged the next punch, ducked under a backfist, and blocked another punch with his arm. And then a heavy fist slammed into his chest. He doubled over, gasping. Momentarily blinded by pain, he didn't see the next punch coming straight at his face. He felt a crushing pain as a fist hit his eye. He staggered and would have fallen were it not for the arm that grabbed him from behind, holding him upright as it tightened around his throat.
Sean struggled, desperately trying to get away, but the arm, taut as steel wire, only pulled tighter. A thick haze seemed to pass in front of his eyes.
He felt his body go limp.
He thought he heard a dog's growl.
The arm released him. A hand shoved him hard from behind.
He fell. There was a sharp pain as his head hit the concrete. He lay there, gasping for breath. His head was pounding. He could still hear a dog growling.
He looked up. Through the haze, he thought he saw Raj standing in front of him, his hackles raised. The dog was snarling at several rapidly retreating figures.
"Thank you," Sean whispered. And the darkness took him.
* * *
Sean opened his eyes – or tried to. His right eye wouldn't open. He was lying on concrete, shivering despite the coat he was wearing and the warmth of the dog lying beside him. He tried to push himself up. The world spun rapidly around him. He lay back down and closed his good eye.
He waited for a few minutes and opened his eye again. The world was still spinning, but he lifted his head and looked around. He was lying near an old, derelict brick building. After a moment, he recognized the old science building. He sat, unsteadily, for a moment before standing. He staggered toward the building. Raj walked beside him.
He had to get out of there. To get home. He could ride home. But he needed his bike. He was still wearing his backpack – he had his key.
But everything was still moving around him, and his vision was blurring. He sank down to the sidewalk, gasping for breath, and closed his eye. If he could just rest for a minute or two …
* * *
He hurt. His entire body was screaming in pain, and he couldn't catch his breath. Distantly, through the ringing in his ears, he heard someone calling his name. Sean opened his eye and blearily looked around. A tall blond boy with long, disheveled hair was standing in front of him, saying something. Another boy was standing beside him – or was there only one? Sean blinked and looked again. No, there were definitely two of them; their coats were different colors.
One of the boys asked him something.
Sean looked at him uncertainly. He didn't say anything. But the ringing in his ears was getting quieter.
"We'd better call an ambulance or something," one of the boys said.
"Give him a minute, Chris," the other said. "Wait 'til Raj gets back." He turned to Sean. "Sean, I need you to tell me if you can understand me."
He didn't answer. But the fog was starting to clear from his mind. And he recognized Chris and Doug Henderson.
"Okay. Um, blink if you can understand me."
Sean blinked.
"Good. Okay, can you tell me your name?"
"Yeah. Sean." His voice was barely more than a whisper. He felt as if he were talking through razor blades in his throat.
"Do you remember what happened?" Chris asked.
Sean hesitated. He shrugged. "I … guess I … fell … down."
Doug snorted. "With some help, I bet. Come on. Let's get you home."
Home! That's what he'd been doing, before – he was going to get his bike, to ride home. He needed his bike. He couldn't ride home without his bike. He shook his head – bad idea. He swallowed hard and closed his eye, breathing as deeply as he could. "No. I … I need … my bike," he said.
Doug shrugged. "That's fine. We'll bring it. Are you ready to sit up?"
Sean nodded carefully. Doug helped him up. Sean closed his eye and waited for the world to stop spinning. The twins carried him past the old science building and into the parking lot.
And then footsteps came, running toward them.
"Are you okay? Sean! I'm so sorry!" Suzan's voice. She sounded upset. "I couldn't find anybody inside … anybody who would help … and I had to go all the way to the shop to find Nick … and then I couldn't find you …"
"It's … okay," Sean interrupted. "It's not … your fault." He kept his eye closed.
"Who was it?" Nick's voice asked gruffly. "Sean – answer me! Who attacked you?"
"I … I don't … know."
Nick was silent.
Sean opened his eye cautiously. The dizziness had faded, a little. Nick, and Doug, Chris, and Suzan, were looking around cautiously as they walked through the parking lot. Raj was walking calmly beside Chris, his tail waving gently. Sean didn't see anyone else around.
They passed a couple of pickup trucks and a Volkswagen bug. The twins' Suzuki was parked nearby, next to the Armstrongs' old station wagon. Chris and Doug carried him toward the Suzuki.
Sean struggled to get away. "No! Let go … of me! I … need my … bike! Let me … go!" He wasn't sure what he was saying.
"Okay. Okay. Calm down." Nick's voice. "We'll get your bike. We need to pass the bike racks to get to the road. Just settle down."
Sean stopped fighting and let the twins carry him to the Suzuki. Nick opened the back door. Raj jumped in and sat in the middle of the seat. Chris and Doug helped Sean in and took his backpack off. Chris took the keys out of the front pouch.
"Put your seat belt on," Nick said. He shut the door and climbed in on the other side, slamming the door behind him.
Sean flinched at the sound and at the sudden sharp pain in his already throbbing head, but he obeyed.
Doug drove – too fast, as always. He stopped the car outside the bike racks and jumped out. He and Chris unlocked the Bianchi and strapped it to the back of the car. They climbed back in.
Doug gunned the engine as soon as they reached the road. The tires squealed at every turn. Gravel crunched under the tires as Doug pulled in to Melanie's drive.
Somebody carried Sean inside, to the couch in the den.
People were there. He vaguely noticed that they were talking, asking him questions. He didn't answer.
Laurel hurried out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of ice and towels. She wrapped a few pieces of the ice into a towel and tried to hand it to him.
He stared at it blankly.
"Here, Sean, it's ice. For your eye."
He didn't move, and Laurel sat beside him and pressed the towel to his eye. It stung, but after a while, the pain lessened.
"Thanks," Sean muttered after a few minutes, wincing at the ragged sound of his voice as much as at the throbbing pain in his throat. He reached to take the ice from Laurel, keeping it on his eye.
"You're welcome." Laurel wrapped more ice in another towel and handed it to him. He took it and held it to his forehead.
He tried to remember what had happened. His head felt fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered a group of outsiders standing outside the old science building; someone jumping out at him and Suzan from the shadows. A race to get away. Somebody attacking him. And Raj coming to his rescue.
He looked up. Chris was sitting next to him, saying something to Diana. Suzan, Cassie, Melanie, Doug, and Adam were there, too, crowded into Melanie's den. Raj was lying beside Adam.
"We need to have a meeting with the full Circle," Diana was saying. Her voice was decisive. "Melanie, would you call the others, please?"
Melanie nodded and walked to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the front door slammed. Deborah strode through the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Sean. Her eyes blazed in fury; her hands clenched into fists. "Let's get them!" Deborah demanded, glaring fiercely at the others. "What are you guys waiting for? Come on, let's go!"
"Go get whom?" Melanie asked coolly.
Deborah turned her predatory gaze to Melanie. "Whoever attacked Sean! Who do you think?"
"We don't know who it was. Sean doesn't know who it was."
Deborah looked at Sean.
He looked away.
"There was a group of outsiders standing outside the old science building," Suzan said. Her voice sounded shaky. "One of them told us we aren't welcome there and we should have listened to them. I didn't recognize all of them. I don't know if any of the witch hunters were there. And I don't know who hurt Sean. He told me to run. And I … I did."
"That's exactly what you should have done," Adam told her. "Get away, and find help."
"It was the witch hunters – it had to have been," Deborah said. "Logan and Jurgen, or whatever their names are."
"No." Cassie's voice was certain. "It wasn't them. They wouldn't have attacked Sean and then left him alive. And they wouldn't have beaten him. They tried to burn me – they would have burned me if you guys hadn't rescued me. That's what they would have done to Sean, if it had been them."
"Or they would have shot him," Adam said. "They came after me with a gun, before."
"That's true," Cassie said.
"It could have been them," Chris argued. "The witch hunters. Raj could have scared them away. He was there with Sean when we found him."
Raj looked up at Chris and thumped his tail against the wood floor.
"It was outsiders." Doug's voice was as hard as granite. "And this is war."
"No! We can't fight a war against all of the outsiders!" Laurel said, carrying a steaming cup from the kitchen. She set it down on a coaster to cool. "We need them to stay here in New Salem – there aren't enough of us for a whole town. We need to make peace with them."
"We can't make peace with them!" Deborah yelled at Laurel. "They tried to kill Sean!"
"And Cassie," Nick said.
"We need to work with the outsiders – the ones who will listen to us. Laurel's right; we need to make peace with them. Or at least work out some sort of a cease-fire that all of the outsiders in New Salem will honor," Adam said.
The argument went on and on.
Sean tried to focus, but his attention kept drifting. His head was throbbing. So was his eye. It hurt to breathe, and he still couldn't catch his breath. His vision was blurring; fading into a whirling grey fog … and clearing, and blurring again.
Someone was calling him. He blinked, and his vision cleared – a little. Laurel was sitting beside him, holding a cup. She held it so he could drink the hot, bitter liquid inside.
The pain lessened … and the grey fog surrounding him faded into darkness.
* * *
He was lying in bed – in Miss Burke's guest room, he decided, looking around the neat, old-fashioned room with his good eye. His right eye wouldn't open. He sat up, and stood; his vision blurred. He leaned against the dresser and waited until he caught his breath and could see again. He staggered down the hall.
Sean pushed his hair out of his face and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. His right eye was black and purple and blue, and swollen shut. His chest was badly bruised, too. Blood had seeped through a bandage on his head. His hair was matted with dried blood. And the room seemed to be revolving around him.
He made his way back to the guest room and sank down on the bed. He closed his eye and grinned wryly. His physics final was today. If today was Thursday. On Friday he had a final in French. And for once he had a legitimate reason to miss his classes.
* * *
"I guess everybody was too busy with finals – or maybe with plans for the Yule Ball and Winter break – to bother us yesterday," Laurel was saying as she wrapped a clean bandage around Sean's head. "And everybody – even Nick and Deborah and Doug and Chris – stayed out of trouble. Of course, nobody went anywhere outside alone. We're all being careful."
Sean nodded. He put the Thermos down, took the poultice she handed him, and held it against his eye. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He could feel her eyes on him. He looked up.
She was watching him, and she looked upset.
"I'll be fine, Laurel," he said, trying not to let his irritation show; he could tell from her expression that he'd failed. It wasn't Laurel's fault he was hurt; it wasn't her fault he didn't deal well with being helpless. She was just trying to help – and he knew that, with her help, he'd heal a lot faster than he would without it. "I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I didn't mean to snap at you. But I will be fine. And Miss Burke will be here all day."
Laurel nodded. "I know. Are you sure you don't want to come tonight? You really should – it's the Yule Ball! And it's the last dance of the year! Diana's driving Melanie and me – she'll drive you too. You don't have to dance or anything. You can just hang out with us."
Sean shook his head. He managed to smile at Laurel. He knew the Yule Ball wasn't really what was bothering her; she was worried about him, and she felt guilty about leaving him alone. "No. I don't want to go. But you should go. To school, I mean. Or you'll be late."
Laurel nodded. "I know. And I'll go in a minute. But you are coming to the Yule party, right?"
Party? What party? "Uh, yeah. I … I … yeah."
She stared at him.
Sean felt himself flush.
"The Yule party! We're all meeting at the Hendersons' on Monday – right before sunset."
Sean nodded. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'll be there."
"You'd better!" Laurel said. She walked to the door and turned back to him. "Are you sure …
"Laurel, I'll be okay. And I promise I'll drink the tea. Go on – and have fun tonight at the dance."
She relaxed, and grinned at him over her shoulder as she hurried out. "I will! See you."
Sean waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps, and then stood up. He still hurt – a lot – and he still couldn't open his right eye – but he could breathe well enough now, and he wasn't dizzy or light-headed anymore. And he was bored. He needed something to think about besides how badly his body hurt, but he hadn't been able to concentrate on the novel he was reading, let alone finish his homework, and he hadn't even had a guitar to play.
He'd go home and get his guitar, he decided. He picked up his backpack from the dresser and took out his keys. He walked, slowly, through the hall, through the empty kitchen, to the front door.
"Where, may I ask, are you going, young man?"
He startled. He hadn't noticed Miss Burke sitting in the parlor. Now she was striding toward him, her face grim.
He dropped his hand away from the doorknob. The key clattered on the wood floor. "I-I-I … I … I'm sorry. I, uh … I …"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, child, I won't bite." Her expression softened, slightly. "Nor will I have you traipsing around outside by yourself – not with a concussion. Why don't you go join Mrs. Quincey in the parlor?"
Sean sighed. "Yes, ma'am," he said. He picked up the key he had dropped and walked into the parlor.
"Why, good morning, dear," Granny Quincey said, smiling at him. She was sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair near the crackling fire, her crochet hook moving rapidly through the lavender yarn as she worked.
"Good morning, Mrs. Quincey." Sean sat on a chair on the other side of the fireplace.
"You're looking better today."
He nodded.
"Would you care to join me in a game of cards? Canasta, perhaps?"
Sean looked up. She was smiling at him. He returned her smile. "Sure," he said.
"Splendid." Granny Quincey put the sweater she was crocheting down in the basket beside her and took two decks of cards, a notepad, and a pencil from the cabinet near the window.
Sean followed her to the table near the windows.
"Why don't you have a seat, dear?" she asked. "I'll go get us some tea."
"I'll help –"
"No, no, dear, you just sit yourself down. I won't be but a few minutes."
He sat.
"Constance?" Granny Quincey called, as she walked toward the kitchen.
"Yes?" Miss Burke asked, stepping out of the kitchen and stopping in the doorway, a towel and a plate in her hands.
"I was just going to get us all some tea, if you don't mind. Would you care to join us? We're playing Canasta." Granny Quincey asked.
Miss Burke raised her eyebrows and looked at Granny Quincey. "I'll get the tea. But there's work to be done, Iris," she said sternly. "I haven't the time to be sitting around playing cards."
"The work will keep. It's not every day we have a young one to keep us company."
"Oh, very well." Miss Burke actually smiled, slightly. She stepped back into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later, carrying a steaming teapot, tea cups, a sliced loaf of pumpkin bread, and a bowl of Grimes Golden and snow apples on a blue willowware platter.
"Thank you, Constance," Granny Quincey said as Miss Burke poured the tea and handed a cup to her and one to Sean.
"Thank you," Sean said.
"You're quite welcome."
Sean looked at Granny Quincey. "I'm sorry. I … I guess I haven't been very good about visiting lately. I should –"
"No, no, dear. You're always welcome, of course, but I understand that you young ones have plenty to do to keep yourselves busy – including, of course, schoolwork."
"I … I don't have that much homework. I can finish it tomorrow … or Sunday …"
She smiled at him. "That will be quite soon enough, I'm sure. In the meantime …" she stopped, and shuffled the cards together. "Constance, it's your deal."
Miss Burke took the cards in her calloused hands and shuffled them carefully. She cut the deck and dealt.
* * *
That night, he dreamt he was inside the house at Number Thirteen Crowhaven Road again, standing behind the other Circle members as they faced Black John.
"Think with me. Give me your power!" Cassie said. A presence, thrumming with power, swept through his mind, nearly overwhelming him with the essence of moon and sun and stars and all of the elements of Nature as it rushed through, taking his power with it.
The crystal skull exploded. Black John and the old house disappeared.
Sean found himself sitting on the wooden floor of Adam's living room, inside a ring of quartz crystals. The Circle surrounded him.
"Traitor," Melanie said contemptuously.
"Murderer," Doug yelled.
Chris stared at him sorrowfully. "You were, like, our brother. But you killed our sister."
"Why did you hurt me?" Kori asked from where she lay at the bottom of the hill.
Jeffrey frowned at him. "I never did anything to you," he said angrily.
"You were bad, Sean," Mr. Dulany said. His eyes were bloodshot, and the odor of beer and whiskey filled the air. "I don't know how many times I've told you to behave, but you just don't listen to me."
"You must be stopped," Adam said.
The entire Circle moved toward him, staring at him with menacingly with their glowing eyes. Sean could feel their anger and power building up, just as it had before, when the Circle faced Black John.
And then Cassie spoke. "Power of moon have I over thee," she said.
"Nooo!" Sean yelled. He opened his eyes and stared wildly around the room.
He was alone. Black John was nowhere to be seen. Of course. It was a dream; just a dream.
But he wasn't sure he believed that, not anymore. His dreams seemed too real, too vivid. More like memories than dreams.
He needed to know the truth.
* * *
Miss Burke drove Sean home after breakfast.
Sean thanked her and walked upstairs to his room. He closed the door and took his Tarot deck from its hiding place beneath the notebooks in the bottom desk drawer, glancing nervously at the door. His father would be upset if he found out that Sean owned a Tarot deck, let alone used it. But his father wouldn't come in Sean's room, not with the door shut. Sean spread a cloth on the floor and took the cards out of their box. He sat for a moment, trying to formulate a question. Finally he shrugged.
"I just need to know the truth about what happened to Kori and the others," he said quietly.
He shuffled the cards, and laid ten of them out.
He turned the first card over. It was the Five of Cups: sorrow, disillusionment, loss. Lack of trust. Worry. The figure on the card was standing with its head bowed, its face mostly hidden by the hood of its robe, gazing down at two fallen cups out of which red liquid had spilled. Two other cups stood nearby.
Sean turned to the second card – the Eight of Swords: fear, blame, being trapped. Bondage. Prison. Sean's hand trembled as he laid the card down, face-up on the cloth. He looked at the blindfolded woman shown on the card, dressed in a tattered gown, standing barefoot on a sandy beach. Her arms were tied to her sides, and she was surrounded on three sides by swords standing upright in the sand.
A cold chill swept over him when he turned over the foundation card. There was a body on the card, impaled by swords, lying in a pool of blood. The Ten of Swords: the card of death, failure, and recurring problems; history repeating itself.
Sean hesitated for a long moment before turning over the next card. It was the Tower; the card of change, destruction, loss – and disgrace.
No.
He turned over the possible outcomes card, revealing the Four of Swords. He gazed at the woman, as white as marble, lying upon a stone, with swords suspended above her. The figure glimmered and changed. It was no longer an unknown woman lying there; it was Kori. And she was lying, nearly hidden by shrubs, at the bottom of the hill in front of the school.
No! Sean closed his eyes, but he could still see her lying there. He jumped up and ran to the window. He doubled over in pain and sank to the floor, gasping for breath. Brilliant. Just brilliant. He'd forgotten that his bruised ribs wouldn't let him move quickly, or take in a full breath.
A knock sounded. Sean startled, staring wildly at the door.
Another knock. "Sean?"
It was his father's voice.
"Yeah?" His voice was barely audible, but he could hear the tremor in it.
"Sean! Are you all right?"
No. "Yeah," he called, as loudly as possible, hoping desperately that his father would believe him. The last thing he needed now was to have to try to explain the Tarot cards to his father.
"Okay. Lunch is ready." Mr. Dulany didn't wait for an answer. His footsteps receded down the hall, down the stairs.
Sean closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily. After a long moment, he stood, carefully, and returned to the cards. He didn't turn over the remaining cards in the spread. Not looking at the pictures, he gathered all of the cards together and shuffled them back into the deck. He returned the deck to its wooden box and held it, staring at the grain of the cherry-wood, at the Celtic knot engraved on its surface.
He knew, when he thought about it, that the cards hadn't really answered his questions. He was in no shape to get a clear reading. His own guilty conscience was making him see things that weren't written in the cards at all. He knew that the Four of Swords wasn't warning him of another death in the future; it represented rest, relaxation, and healing – not death. The Tower could be a reference to the losses they'd all experienced – the deaths of Mrs. Howard and Kori – and to the disgrace he was in because of what the Circle believed, regardless of whether or not they were right. And the Ten of Swords could refer to defeat, exhaustion, and feeling overwhelmed – it wasn't necessarily telling him that he had killed and might kill again; nor was the Eight of Swords telling him that he would literally go to prison. His own fears and guilt were prison enough.
"Sean!" his father was calling him again, from downstairs.
Sean sighed. He put the box and the cloth away and walked slowly downstairs to the kitchen.