Secret Circle - The Captive Part 7

"It's her own fault," Melanie said. "She kept after Jeffrey until the last minute."

"I think she's still after him now," said Ca.s.sie.

Jeffrey was just coming off the dance floor with Sally. His expression was the exact opposite of wintry; he looked as if he was having a wonderful time, flas.h.i.+ng his lady-killing smile in all directions. Proud, Ca.s.sie thought, to have the Homecoming Queen on his arm. But it was funny, she thought the next minute, how quickly people stopped smiling when they ran into Faye.

Jeffrey tried to hustle Sally back onto the dance floor, but Faye moved as quickly as a stalking panther and cut them off. Then she and Sally stood on either side of Jeff, like a big, glossy black dog and a little rust-colored terrier fighting over a tall, slim bone.

"That's stupid," Laurel said. "Faye could have almost any guy here, but she only wants the ones who're a challenge."

"Well, it's not our problem," Melanie said sensibly. She turned to the outsider boy beside her and smiled, and they went together onto the dance floor. Laurel looked nettled for an instant, then smiled, shrugged at Ca.s.sie, and collected her own partner.

Ca.s.sie watched them go with a sinking heart.

She'd been able to block out Adam's presence for the last few minutes, but here they were alone again. Determinedly, she looked around for some distraction. There was Jeffrey-he was in real trouble now. The music had started, Faye was smiling a lazy, dangerous smile at him, and Sally was bristling and looking daggers. The three of them were standing in a perfect triangle, n.o.body moving. Ca.s.sie didn't see how Jeffrey was going to get out of it.

Then he looked up in her direction.

His reaction was startling. His eyes widened. He blinked. He stared at her as if he had never seen a girl before. Then he stepped away from Faye and Sally as if he'd forgotten their existence.

Ca.s.sie was dismayed, confused-but flattered. One thing-it certainly got her out of her present dilemma with Adam. When she turned and looked into Adam's eyes, she saw he understood, without even nodding.

Jeffrey was holding out his hand to her. She took it and let him lead her onto the dance floor. She cast one glance back at Adam and saw that his expression was a paradox: acceptance mixed with something darker, more disturbing.

It was another slow dance. Ca.s.sie held herself at a decent distance from Jeffrey, staring uncertainly down at his shoes. They were dark brown loafers with little ta.s.sels, the left one slightly scuffed. When she finally looked up at his face, her awkwardness vanished. That smile was not only blinding but openly admiring.

When we first met he was trying to impress me, Ca.s.sie thought dizzily. Now he's impressed.

She could see the appreciation in his eyes, feel it in the way he held her.

"We make a good couple," he said. She laughed. Trust Jeffrey to compliment himself in complimenting her. "Thank you. I hope Sally isn't mad."

"It's not Sally I'm worried about. It's her." "Faye. I know." She wished she had some advice for him. But n.o.body knew how to deal with Faye.

"Maybe you'd better be worried too. What's Diana going to say when she finds out you were here with Adam?"

"Diana asked me to come with him, because she was sick," Ca.s.sie said, flaring up in spite of herself. "I didn't even want to, and-"

"Hey. Hey. I was just teasing. Everybody knows Di and her prince consort are practically married. Although maybe she wouldn't have asked you if she'd known how beautiful you were going to look."

He was still teasing, but Ca.s.sie didn't like it. She looked around the dance floor and saw Laurel, who winked over her partner's shoulder. Suzan was dancing, too, very close with a muscular boy, her red-gold hair s.h.i.+ning in the gloom.

And then it was over. Ca.s.sie looked up at Jeffrey and said, "Good luck with Faye," which was the best she could offer him. He flashed the smile again.

"I can handle it," he said confidently. "Don't you want to dance again? No? Are you sure?"

"Thanks, but I'd better get back," Ca.s.sie murmured, worried about the way he was looking at her. She managed to escape his restraining hand and started toward the sidelines, but before she could get there another boy asked her to dance.

She couldn't see Adam anywhere. Maybe he was off enjoying himself-she hoped so. She said "yes" to the boy.

It didn't stop with him. All sorts of guys, seniors and juniors, athletes and cla.s.s officers, were coming up to her. She saw boys' eyes wander from their own dates to look at her as she danced.

I didn't know dances were like this. I didn't know anything was like this, she thought. For the moment she was entirely swept up in the magic of the night, and she pushed all troublesome reflection away. She let the music take her and let herself just be for a while. Then she saw Sally's face on the sidelines.

Jeffrey wasn't with her. Ca.s.sie hadn't seen Jeffrey in a while. But Sally was focused on Ca.s.sie specifically, and her expression was venomous.

When that dance was over, Ca.s.sie evaded the next boy who tried to intercept her, and headed for Laurel. Laurel greeted her with glee.

"You're the belle of the ball," she said excitedly, tucking her arm through Ca.s.sie's and patting Ca.s.sie's hand. "Sally's furious. Faye's furious. Everybody's furious."

"It's the magnet perfume. I think Suzan used too much."

"Don't be silly. It's you. You're a perfect little-gazelle. No, a little white unicorn, one of a kind. I think even Adam has noticed."

Ca.s.sie went still. "Oh, I doubt that," she said lightly. "He's just being polite. You know Adam."

"Yes," said Laurel. "Sir Adam the Chivalrous. He turned around and asked Sally to dance after you left with Jeffrey, and Sally almost decked him."

Ca.s.sie smiled, but her heart was still pounding. She and Adam had promised not to betray their feelings for each other, not by word or look or deed-but they were making a horrible mess of things tonight on all fronts. Now she was afraid to look for Adam, and she didn't want to dance any more. She didn't want to be the belle of the ball; she didn't want every girl here to be furious with her. She wanted to go to Diana.

Suzan arrived, her extraordinary chest heaving slightly in her low-cut dress. She directed an arch smile at Ca.s.sie.

"I told you I knew what I was talking about," she said. "Having a good time?"

"Wonderful," Ca.s.sie said, digging her nails in one palm. She opened her mouth to say something else, but just then she glimpsed Sean making his way toward her. His face was eager, his usually slinking step purposeful.

"I should have warned you," Laurel said in an undertone. "Sean's been chasing you all night, but some other guy always got there first."

"If he does catch you he'll be all over you like ugly on an ape," Suzan added pleasantly, rummaging in her purse. "Oh, d.a.m.n, I gave my lipstick to Deborah. Where is she?"

"Hi there," Sean said, reaching them. His small black eyes slid over Ca.s.sie. "So you're free at last."

"Not really," Ca.s.sie blurted. "I have to-go find Deborah for Suzan." What she had to do was get away from all this for a while. "I know where she is; I'll be right back," she continued to the startled Suzan and Laurel.

"I'll come along," Sean began instantly, and Laurel opened her mouth, but Ca.s.sie waved at both of them in dismissal.

"No, no-I'll go by myself. It won't take a minute," she said. And then she was away from them, plunging through the crowd toward the double doors.

She knew where the boiler room was, or at least where the door that led to it was. She'd never actually been inside. By the time she reached C-wing she'd left the music of the dance far behind.

The door marked custodian's office opened onto a long narrow room with unidentifiable machinery all around. Generators were humming, drowning out any other noise. It was cool and dank . . . spooky, Ca.s.sie thought. There were NO smoking signs on the walls and it smelled of oil and gas.

A stairway descended into the school bas.e.m.e.nt. Ca.s.sie slowly went down the steps, gripping the smooth metal handrail. G.o.d, it's like going down into a tomb, she thought. Who would want to spend their time here instead of in the light and music up in the gym?

The boiler room itself smelled of machine oil and beer. It wasn't just cool; it was cold. And it was silent, except for the steady dripping of water somewhere.

A terrible place, Ca.s.sie thought shakily. All around her were machines with giant dials, and overhead there were huge pipes of all kinds. It was like being in the bowels of a s.h.i.+p. And it was deserted.

"h.e.l.lo? Deborah?"

No answer.

"Debby? Chris? It's Ca.s.sie."

Maybe they couldn't hear her. There was another room behind the boiler room; she could glimpse it through an archway beyond the machines.

She edged toward it, worried about getting oil on Laurel's pristine dress. She looked through the archway and hesitated, gripped by a strange apprehension.

Drip. Drip.

"Is anybody there?"

A large machine was blocking her way. Uneasily, she poked her head around it.

At first she thought the room was empty, but then, at eye level, she saw something.

Something wrong. And in that instant her throat closed and her mind fragmented, single thoughts flas.h.i.+ng

across it like explosions from a flashbulb.

Swinging feet.

Swinging feet where feet shouldn't be. Somebody walking on air. Flying like a witch. Only, the feet

weren't flying. They were swinging, back and forth, in two dark brown loafers. Two dark brown loafers

with little ta.s.sels.

Ca.s.sie looked up at the face.

The relentless dripping of water went on. The smell of oil and stale alcohol nauseated her.

Can't scream. Can't do anything but gasp.

Drip and swing.

That face, that horrible blue face. No more lady-killer smile. I have to do something to help him, but how can I help? n.o.body's neck bends that way when they're alive.

Every horrible detail was so clear. The fraying rope. The swinging shadow on the cinder-block wall. The machinery with its dials and switches. And the awful stillness.

Drip. Drip.

Swinging like a pendulum.

Hands covering her mouth, Ca.s.sie began to sob. She backed away, trying not to see the curly brown hair on the head that was lolling sideways. He couldn't be dead when she'd just danced with him. He'd just had his arms around her, he'd flashed her that c.o.c.ksure smile. And now- She stepped back and hands fell on her shoulders.

She did try to scream then, but her throat was paralyzed. Her vision went dark.

"Steady. Steady. Hang on there."

It was Nick.

"Breathe slower. Put your head down."

"Nine-one-one," she gasped, and then, clearly and distinctly so that he would understand, "Call

nine-one-one, Nick. Jeffrey-"

He cast a hard glance at the swinging feet. "He doesn't need a doctor. Do you?"

"I-" She was hanging on to his hand. "I came down to get Deborah."

"She's in the old science building. They got busted here."

"And 1 saw him-Jeffrey-"

Nick's arm was comforting, solid. "I get the picture," he said. "Do you want to sit down?"

"I can't. It's Laurel's dress." She was completely irrational, she realized. She tried desperately to get a

grip on herself. "Nick, please let me go. I have to call an ambulance."

"Ca.s.sie." She couldn't remember him ever saying her name before, but now he was holding her shoulders