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.
Chapter Six
It was Monday night. Wreaths of holly and cedar hung from the ancient beams of the Hendersons' kitchen. Another wreath bedecked the door. A fire crackled in the fireplace. The table was covered with food – baskets of red, gold, and green apples; pears; pumpkin pie and apple pie; green salad, five-bean salad, and potato salad; sweet potatoes; carrots and parsnips; mashed potatoes; pumpkin bread and banana bread; and veggies and dips. There was scarcely enough room for the plates and cups and silverware.
The Circle members were gathered around the table. Sean sat in front of the window, listening to the others talk and laugh while they ate. They talked about the Solstice, projects and activities they planned for Winter Break, the finals they'd finished, the classes they'd be taking next semester – and about Kori. About camping trips and bike rides she'd gone on with her brothers and with other members of the Circle, too. About the dance recitals she had loved and her brothers had hated – but had always pretended to enjoy. About some of the many times she had kept Doug and Chris out of trouble, at school and at home. About the holidays she had celebrated with them and with the Circle.
Kori would have loved it all – the festive clothes most of the Circle members were wearing, the holiday meal, the conversation – and she would have liked being the center of attention. But she wasn't there. And it was his fault.
He glanced across the table at Chris and Doug and started. Kori was there, standing between Chris and Doug, smiling at them. She looked around the table, at all of the members of the Circle seated there. She met Sean's eyes, and her smile faded. An expression of confusion crossed her face.
"Why? Why did you hurt me, Sean?" she asked.
Sean closed his eyes. She's not real. He opened his eyes again. She was still there, but her eyes no longer saw him. She was lying at the bottom of the hill. She wasn't moving.
He shuddered and closed his eyes again. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, hoping the pain would jar him back to reality. It did; when he opened his eyes again, Kori was gone.
Sean wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to steady his rapid breathing. He forced himself to stay in the room, to listen to the others' stories. It was the least he could do for Kori. But he couldn't join in the festivities. All he could think about, with every story someone told, was that this was something she could never do again. There were so many things – and so many things she would never be able to do at all. She hadn't even been initiated into the Circle – and she had been so excited that she was finally turning fifteen, old enough for initiation.
At last, the others finished their meal and left the kitchen, walking outside to the beach. Sean stayed behind with Laurel, Diana and Melanie to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. He listened to their conversation, relieved that they were talking about the Solstice – and not about Kori. The faucet was leaking; he could hear it drip. A slow, steady drip … drip … drip … just like the drip he'd heard before, at school – the sound of water leaking from a pipe somewhere ahead …
Sean's quick, light footsteps and the slower, heavier tread of the bigger boy in front of him echoed on the steps of the cold, dimly lit staircase. Machinery hummed from somewhere nearby.
They walked into the boiler room. It was as dark as the staircase, and oddly cold. The towering boiler and the furnace against the opposite wall were silent. The air was musty; it smelled of gas and machine oil and stale alcohol.
Sean didn't see Cassie. But she was down here somewhere – wasn't she?
Sean, look behind the furnace.
He flinched. The voice – the presence – was in his head, painfully loud, yet soundless. It was pressing in on him like a thick, suffocating fog; he couldn't think …
Now!
Sean looked around the machine that loomed before him, into the next room. No one was there. A rope was lying on the concrete floor.
The fog was getting thicker.
The footsteps had stopped.
"I don't think Cassie's here," Jeffrey said, turning to look at Sean.
He shrugged. "She'll be here. She's coming with the Hendersons and Deborah. That's what Suzan said." His voice sounded odd. Distant, and emotionless.
His head felt fuzzy and his legs were trembling. He sat, beside the furnace, leaning against the cinderblock wall.
Jeffrey shrugged. "Okay. I'll wait." His expression was curiously blank. He sat beside Sean.
Get up – fetch the rope and put it around his neck.
What?! Why on Earth –
The pressure in his head intensified.
Go and get the rope, and put it around his neck. Now!
Sean tried to yell at Jeffrey, to tell him to run, but he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't move – but he found himself jumping up and darting behind the looming furnace. He grabbed the rope and returned to the other room, where Jeffrey was still sitting next to the wall, staring blankly ahead. Sean tried to back away, but he could only watch in horror as his arms stretched up and reached out, dropped the noose tied at one end of the rope over Jeffrey's head, pulled the rope taut, and dragged him past the furnace.
Sean stared, horrified, as the older boy tried – and failed – to escape from the rope – and to draw a breath. Let go! Loosen the rope! Call 9-1-1!
No. Throw the rope over the pipe. Pull him up.
He wrenched his gaze away from Jeffrey's terrified eyes – but he couldn't close his ears to the terrible sounds of Jeffrey's struggle to escape from the rope – and to breathe. His own breathing was too fast, too shallow. His body was trembling – but his hand was steady as it threw the free end of the rope over the pipe, tied a knot he didn't recognize, and pulled.
Jeffrey had stopped struggling. He hung limply as his body rose above Sean, swinging back and forth.
Sean watched his hands tie another unfamiliar knot in the rope and pull it taut. He looked back at Jeffrey. The older boy wasn't struggling any more. He wasn't breathing. The wide-open eyes in the cyanotic face had ceased to see. And the body swung, steadily, back and forth, back and forth.
Sweat broke out on Sean's face and arms, despite the coldness of the room. His ears started to ring. Grayness overshadowed his vision.
A sharp clatter rang out.
"Sean? Are you okay?" Diana's voice.
I should say something, he thought vaguely.
"No, he's not." Laurel's voice. "Sean, lie down for a minute."
"I … I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm okay." His own voice sounded as far away as theirs.
Laurel sighed. Her hands and voice were gentle but firm as she helped him lie on the cold stone floor.
The ringing in his ears grew fainter, and stopped.
"Sean, you're safe now. Nobody's going to hurt you," Laurel was saying. She kept talking, soothingly.
He wasn't listening.
They'd been right – Nick and Adam and the others. The night of the storm, when they'd told him that he had killed Jeffrey and the others – they'd been right. He really had killed Jeffrey. His dreams … the images … no. Not images – memories. They really were memories. They wouldn't have been so vivid if he hadn't really been there. If he hadn't done it. Killed – hanged – somebody. Somebody who'd never done anything to him. He didn't think Jeffrey had ever even spoken to him.
The Circle was right.
And if they were right about Jeffrey's death, they must be right about the others, too. He had killed Kori. And Mr. Fogle. And caused Mrs. Howard's death, too.
He was a murderer. A killer. A serial killer.
"Sean! Come on, answer me! Sean!" Laurel's voice.
He blinked and looked around.
"Sean? Can you hear me?"
Melanie's voice. She was sitting in front of him. Laurel was next to her. And Diana. The girls were staring at him.
He tore his eyes away and sat up. The shattered remains of a plate lay beside him. He started to pick up the pieces.
"I'll do it," Laurel said, reaching to take the sharp pieces away from him.
"No. That's okay. I've got it. I … I'm okay." He was rambling.
Laurel just looked at him.
Sean let her take the pieces he was holding.
Diana swept up the rest into a dustpan and threw them away.
She turned back to Sean and waited. So did Laurel. And so did Melanie.
"You guys, everybody's waiting outside," Doug said.
Sean started. Even the girls looked startled as they turned toward the doorway.
"Are you coming?" Doug asked impatiently.
"Yes," Melanie said. "We're on our way."
Sean couldn't read Melanie's expression, but he accepted her proffered hand and stood, trying to ignore Laurel's and Diana's worried looks. He followed the girls to the coat rack by the door, grabbed his coat and hat, and followed them outside.
* * *
It was dark. Only starlight lit their way. They walked slowly, cautiously, through the Hendersons' unkempt yard and through the gate. They followed the sloping path toward the beach.
A bonfire roared near the unlit Yule log that someone had decorated with pine cones, wheat, ears of corn, and sprigs of holly and cedar. The other Circle members were waiting nearby, seated near the fire or standing nearby. Raj was sitting beside Cassie, who was laughing at something Adam was saying. The dog stood and trotted up to Sean, greeting him, and then Diana and Laurel and Melanie, his tail waving happily.
Faye cast the circle as soon as everyone was seated around the bonfire. She drew the circle's outline deosil in the sand with her black-handled knife. She called the directions, holding up the knife, for Earth; and then incense; a bayberry candle, its tiny flame flickering in the wind; and finally a stone chalice filled with water.
Then she sat, between Cassie and Diana, and stared into the fire. "Tonight is Yule – the longest night of the year," she intoned. "The darkness of night has been growing longer and longer and the light of day has been growing shorter. The land is frozen; the ponds and creeks are encased in ice. The plants have ceased their growth. All but a few of the trees and shrubs have lost their leaves. Most of the birds are gone – they've moved on to their warm winter homes in the South. The small mammals and insects, and the frogs and toads and turtles and snakes and lizards, seem to have disappeared with the cold. But we remain, here – in the cold of winter and in the darkness of night – on this, the longest night." She looked around the Circle and smiled. Her eyes gleamed eerily in the firelight.
Sean shivered despite the warmth of the bonfire. He pulled his coat tighter around him and drew his gloved hands inside the sleeves. Darkness – the dark energy. That's what Adam and the others had called the presence that had controlled his mind. The presence that had made him … don't think about that, he told himself fiercely. He stared into the fire, focusing on the flames, on the charred bits of wood, on the smoke rising from the fire and drifting southward with the wind.
"But the darkness will not remain forever," Diana was saying. "The sun will rise again; a new day will dawn. The days will grow longer, their light stronger – and the nights will grow shorter once again. The land will thaw and be warmed by the sun. The seeds will awaken from their sleep and new growth will begin. The insects and small mammals, and the frogs and toads and reptiles – all will awaken and come out from their winter homes as the days lengthen and the nights grow less cold. And we remain, here – in our Circle, on this shore, lit by bright firelight and by the distant light of the stars, on this the longest night – and we celebrate the coming light of day." Diana smiled, and a glow of warmth and peace and comfort seemed to encompass all of the members of the Circle.
And then it was Cassie's turn. The Circle's youngest member – and leader – stood and held a torch to the fire, waiting until it lit. She held it up so everyone in the Circle could see – and walked to the Yule log.
Silently, reverently, the Circle members watched as Cassie set the Yule log alight.
Sean stared at the tendrils of wispy smoke, at the tiny glow as the fire caught, at the blaze as it strengthened, at the colors – the red and yellow and orange and blue of the flames as the log and its decorations burned, casting their light on the shore and on the Circle seated there.
Faye and Diana formally closed the circle, allowing those who wished to leave to do so, but nobody did. Even Sean stayed, listening to the stories and jokes and laughter and songs of the others around him, as they celebrated through the longest night; as they watched a light appear in the sky – the tiny sliver of the crescent moon casting a white glow on the sea and shore – and as the dark sky lightened, streaked with pink and purple and orange, and the sun made its appearance – the dawn of a new day. Only then did the members of the Circle return home.