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 Twelve
The next morning, Melanie and Laurel handed out small cloth pouches to all of the Circle members. "For protection from the witch hunters," Laurel said as she gave a blue cotton pouch to Sean.
"Thank you," he said. He opened the pouch and looked inside. He felt the blood drain from his face as he flung it away. There was no way that he going to wear a crystal. Or carry one. Not after what happened before.
Laurel looked at him oddly.
"I-I-I ..." he stopped and shook his head. He picked up the pouch and handed it to Laurel. "I'm sorry. But I can't."
Laurel looked confused, but she took the pouch from him.
Melanie nodded in understanding. She took the pouch from Laurel, reached in, and took out the amethyst crystal. "Just the herbs, then," she said, handing the pouch back to Sean.
He hesitated, and accepted it. "Okay," he said. He pulled the cord over his neck and tucked the pouch under his shirt.
* * *
The new principal, Mrs. Jackson, started school that day with an assembly. Her introduction was very different than Mr. Brunswick's had been. Her voice was equally courteous, but cheerful and enthusiastic rather than powerful and austere. Her introductory speech was an optimistic recitation of her hopes for the future – for the students, for herself, and for New Salem High School. She spoke of expectations, but referred not to blind obedience to the rules, but instead to her hope that each student would put forth his or her best effort not only to succeed academically, but also to treat others with respect, patience, and tolerance; that each student would do his or her part to ensure that the troubles that had plagued the school over the last few months would soon end.
"They're not going to listen to her," Deborah said grimly after the principal dismissed everyone to return to class.
Sean knew that she was right. The cloud of fear and hatred that permeated the auditorium had not dissipated during the principal's speech. Nor had the pressure of hostile eyes upon him and the other members of the Club lessened.
He tried to retreat into the shadows, to remain unnoticed, as he usually did, but without much success. More than once, Sean caught someone's eyes, glaring at him or watching him nervously.
Outsiders had looked at him that way before, but not often. Sean had never understood it. He had never thought of himself as dangerous – not like Faye. She had power over people's minds, and over fire – and she wasn't afraid to use her power. Nick, Doug, and Deborah could be dangerous, too. So could Chris, despite his usual friendly, mischievous-yet-harmless demeanor. Sean didn't know if it was a power or not, but Chris and Doug could look at just about anything and find an unusual or dangerous use for it, whether they were making bombs from pipes and match heads and whatever else they used, or Rollerblading down the stairs, or using the walls as a ladder to get up to the school roof.
Sean had never used his powers against anyone – not even against the outsiders who used to tease him and shove him around, before they really understood what the Club was – as if he were just another small, shy, high-strung outsider boy. But he wasn't. Nor was he just a boy who could connect with Nature in some ways. He was dangerous. As dangerous as Faye – worse. He had killed people. He still didn't really know how – just that the voice inside his mind had somehow controlled him. He knew that could never kill anyone by himself, but if he could be influenced once – three times, really – he could be influenced again. He had been working on his mental shield, and his ability to visualize it had improved since his first attempt, but he still had a long way to go. He knew that he would have to be able to visualize the mental shield at any time, no matter what he was doing and no matter who was around, or it would do no good. And perhaps the outsiders' fears would be justified.
He couldn't let that happen.
As soon as he got home and locked his bike in the garage, he raced upstairs to his room and shut the door. He sat on the bed and visualized the rock cave, trying to make it as solid, as strong, as secure as possible.
By the time the sky darkened, he could feel the difference. The granite of the cave seemed real – hard, rough, red-brown stone – and he was beginning to sense the same feeling of security he felt, eventually, when he sat in the real cave.
* * *
In his dream he was standing at the front of the school, at the meeting place by the granite outcrop near the summit. He was talking with Kori, wishing her a happy birthday and congratulating her on her upcoming initiation. She was smiling at him, talking enthusiastically.
Sean wasn't listening. He had to tell her … something. She had to leave. It wasn't safe for her there. He didn't know why. His mind was foggy, clouded by a presence, a pressure that had insinuated itself inside.
Push her.
He tried to tell Kori to run, to get away from him, but he couldn't make a sound. He stared at her in horror as his hand reached out and pushed her. She caught her balance. He pushed her again. She stared at him, confused – and fell.
Sean wanted to reach out, to catch her, but he couldn't move. And he couldn't look away. He watched her fall. She stopped screaming. She didn't move. And he knew she was dead. "Nooo!" he yelled.
He opened his eyes and sat up. He was at home, in his own room. It was almost completely dark, lit only by the waning crescent moon low on the horizon. He was far from the front of the school, where he'd –
No. He closed his eyes again. The cave. Focus on the cave, he told himself. And he saw, in his mind's eye, the red-brown granite; felt its rough texture; smelled the woodsy scent of moss and moisture; sensed the quietness and solitude of the cave, away from the chaos of classes and students – and the memories receded. For the time being.
A knock sounded.
Sean jumped, staring wildly around the room.
"Sean? You okay?" It was his father's voice, from behind the door.
He couldn't answer. He closed his eyes, trying once again to ground himself by visualizing the cave.
"Sean! Answer me!"
Sean opened his eyes. The door was opening. Mr. Dulany stepped inside. "You okay?" he asked.
Sean nodded. "Yeah … yes. I'm sorry. I … I didn't mean to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep. I thought I heard you yell …"
"I'm sorry. I, uh, I … it was just a dream. I'm sorry."
"Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm working a double shift at the hospital. I'm on my way out now."
"Okay. Um, have a good day."
"You too." His father left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. His footsteps receded down the hall.