Captive (13 page)

It was a strange thought, knowing you were evil. It floated around in Cassie's mind as she lay in bed that night, and just before she fell asleep it got weirdly mixed up with visions of Faye's honey-colored eyes.

Wicked, she could almost hear Faye chuckling throatily. You're not evil, you're just
wicked . . .
like me.

The dream started out beautifully. She was in her grandmother's garden, in the summer, when everything was blossoming. Lemon balm spilled a golden pool on the ground. Lavender, lily of the valley, and jasmine were throwing such sweet scents into the air that Cassie felt giddy.

Cassie bent to snap off a stem of honeysuckle, with its tiny, creamy flowerheads. The sun shone down, warming her shoulders. The sky was clear and spacious. Strangely, although this was her grandmother's garden, there was no house nearby. She was all alone in the bright sunshine.

Then she saw the roses.

They were huge, velvety, red as rubies. No roses like that grew wild. Cassie took a step toward them, then another. Dew stood in the curl of one of the rose petals, quivering slightly. Cassie wanted to smell one of them, but she was afraid.

She heard a throaty chuckle beside her.

"Faye!"

Faye smiled slowly. "Go ahead, smell them," she said. "They won't bite you." But Cassie shook her head. Her heart was beating quickly.

"Oh, come on, Cassie." Faye's voice was coaxing now. "Look over there. Doesn't that look interesting?"

Cassie looked. Behind the roses something impossible had happened. Night had fallen, even though it was still daylight where Cassie was standing. It was a cool black-and-purple night, broken by stars but not a trace of moon.

"Come with me, Cassie," Faye coaxed again. "It's just a few little steps. I'll show you how easy it is." She walked behind the rosebush and Cassie stared at her. Faye was standing in darkness now, her face shadowed, her glorious hair merging with the gloom.

"You might as well," Faye told her softly, inexorably. "After all, you're already like me- or had you forgotten? You've already made your choice."

Cassie's hand let the honeysuckle spray fall. Slowly, slowly, she reached out and picked one of the roses. It was such a deep red, and so soft.

Cassie stared down into it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Faye murmured. "Now bring it here."

Mesmerized, Cassie took a step. There was a line of wavering shadow on the ground, between the darkness and the day. Cassie took another step and a sudden sharp pain in her finger made her gasp.

The rose had pricked her. Blood was streaming down her wrist. All the thorns on the roses were crimson, as if they'd been dipped in blood.

Appalled, she looked up at Faye, but she saw only darkness and heard only that mocking chuckle. "Maybe next time," Faye's voice floated out of the shadows.

Cassie woke up with her heart pounding, eyes staring into the blackness of her room. When she turned the light on, she almost expected to see blood on her arm. But there was no blood, and no mark of any thorn on her finger.

Thank God, she thought. It was a dream, just a dream. Still, it was a long time before she could fall asleep again.

She woke again to the ringing of the phone.

By the color of the light against the eastern window she knew she'd slept late.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Cassie," a familiar voice said in her ear.

Cassie's heart jumped. Instantly the entire dream flashed before her. In a panic, she expected Faye to start talking throatily about roses and darkness.

But Faye's voice was ordinary. "It's Saturday, Cassie. Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Uh...no. But-"

"Because Deborah and Suzan and I are having a little get-together. We thought you might like to come."

"Faye ... I thought you were mad at me."

Faye laughed. "I was a little-miffed, yes. But that's over now. I'm
proud
of your success with the guys. It just shows you what a little witchery will do, hmm?"

Cassie ignored this; she'd had a sudden thought. "Faye, if you're planning to use the skull again, forget it. Do you want to know how dangerous it is?" She started to tell Faye what she'd discovered in the Witch Dungeon, but Faye interrupted.

"Oh, who cares about the skull anymore?"

she said. "This is a
party.
So we'll see you at around eight, then, all right? You
will
show up, won't you, Cassie? Because there might be- unfortunate consequences if you didn't. 'Bye!"

Deborah and Suzan will be there, Cassie told herself as she walked up to Faye's house that night. They won't let Faye actually kill me. The thought gave her some comfort.

And Faye, when she opened the door, seemed less sinister than usual. Her golden eyes were glimmering with something like mischief and her smile was almost playful.

"Come in, Cassie. Everybody's in the den," she said.

Cassie could hear music as they approached a room off the entrance hall. It was furnished in the same opulent and luxurious style as the rest of the house. Noise from a huge TV was competing with some song by Madonna being blasted out of a magnificent stereo unit. With all this technology, the dozens of candles stuck in various kinds of holders around the room seemed incongruous.

"Turn that stuff down," Faye ordered. Suzan, pouting, pointed a remote control at the stereo, while Deborah muted the TV. Apparently Faye had forgiven them as well.

"Now," Faye said, with a feline smile at Cassie, "I'll explain. The housekeeper has the day off, and my mother is sick in bed-"

"As usual," Deborah interrupted, to Cassie. "Her mom spends ninety-five percent of her life in bed. Nerves."

Faye's eyebrows arched and she said, "Yes, well, it's certainly convenient, isn't it? At times like this." She turned back to Cassie and went on, "So we're going to have a little pizza party. You'll help out getting things ready, won't you?"

Cassie was tingling with relief. A pizza party. She'd been imagining-oh, all sorts of strange things. "I'll help," she said.

"Then let's get started. Suzan will show you what to do."

Cassie followed Suzan's directions. They lit the red and pink candles and started a low, crackling fire in the fireplace. They lit incense, too, which Suzan said was composed of ginger root, cardamom, and neroli oil. It was pungent, but delicious smelling.

Faye, meanwhile, was placing crystals about the room. Cassie recognized them-garnets and carnelians, fire opals and pink tourmelines. And Suzan, Cassie noticed, was wearing a carnelian necklace which harmonized with her strawberry-blond hair, while Faye was wearing more than her usual number of star rubies.

Deborah switched off the lamps and went to fiddle with the stereo. The music that began to rise was like nothing Cassie had ever heard. It was low and throbbing, some primal beat that seemed to get into her blood. It started out softly, but seemed to be getting almost imperceptibly louder.

"All right," Faye said, standing back to survey their work. "It's looking good. I'll get the drinks."

Cassie looked over the room herself. Warm; it looked warm and inviting, especially when compared with the chilly October weather outside. The candles and the fire made a rosy glow, and the soft, insistent music filled the air. The incense was spicy, intoxicating, and somehow sensuous, and the smoke threw a slight haze over the room.

It looks like an opium den or something, Cassie thought, simultaneously fascinated and horrified, just as Faye came back with a silver tray.

Cassie stared. She'd expected, maybe, a six-pack of soda-or maybe a six-pack of something else, knowing Deborah. She should have known Faye would never stoop to anything so inelegant. On the tray was a crystal decanter and eight small crystal glasses. The decanter was half full of some clear ruby-colored liquid.

"Sit down," Faye said, pouring into four of the glasses. And then, at Cassie's doubtful look, she smiled. "It's not alcoholic. Try it and see. Oh, go on."

Warily, Cassie took a sip. It had a subtle, faintly sweet taste and it made her feel flushed with warmth right down to her fingertips.

"What's in it?" she asked, peering into her glass.

"Oh, this and that. It's-stimulating, isn't it?"

"Mmm." Cassie took another sip.

"And now," Faye smiled, "we can play Pizza Man."

There was a pause, then Cassie said, "Pizza Man?"

"Pizza Man He Delivers," Suzan said, and giggled.

"Otherwise known as watching guys make fools of themselves," Deborah said, grinning savagely. She might have gone on, but Faye interrupted.

"Let's not
tell
Cassie; let's just show her," she said. "Where's the phone?" Deborah handed her a cordless phone.

Suzan produced the yellow pages, and after a few moments of thumbing and scanning, read out a number.

Faye dialed. "Hello?" she said pleasantly. "I'd like to order a large pizza, with pepperoni, olives, and mushrooms." She gave her address and phone number. "That's right, New Salem," she said. "Can you tell me how long it will be? All right; thanks. 'Bye."

She hung up, looked at Suzan, and said, "Next."

And then, to Cassie's growing astonishment, she did it all over again.

Six times.

By the end of it, Faye had ordered seven large pizzas, all with the same toppings. Cassie, who was feeling somewhat dizzy from the smell of incense, wondered just how many people Faye was planning to feed.

"Who's coming to this party-the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir?" she whispered to Suzan. Suzan dimpled.

"I hope not. It's not choirboys we're interested in."

"That's enough," said Faye. "Just wait, Cassie, and you'll see."

When the doorbell rang the first time, Faye, Suzan, and Deborah went into the parlor and looked through the window. Cassie followed and looked too. The porch light revealed a young man holding a greasy cardboard box.

"Hmm," said Faye. "Not bad. Not terrific, but not bad."

"I think he's fine," Suzan said. "Look at those shoulders. Let's take him."

With Cassie trailing behind, they all went into the hall.

"Well, hello," Faye said, opening the door. "Do you mind coming inside and putting it over here? I left my purse in the other room." As Cassie watched with widening eyes, they escorted the guy into the warmth of the luxurious, richly scented den. Cassie saw him blink, then saw a stupefied expression cross his face.

Deborah took the pizza from him. "You know," Faye said, biting the pen she had poised over a checkbook, "you look a little tired. Why don't you sit down? Are you thirsty?"

Suzan was pouring a glassful of the clear ruby liquid. She held it out to him with a smile. The delivery boy wet his lips, looking dazed.

Cassie could understand why. She thought there was probably no guy in the world who could resist Suzan, with her cloud of strawberry-gold hair and her low-cut blouse, holding out a crystal glass. Suzan leaned over a little farther as she offered it to him, and the guy took the drink.

Deborah and Faye exchanged knowing glances. "I'll go move his car around the side," Deborah murmured, and left.

"My name's Suzan," Suzan said to the guy, as she sank into the cushiony couch beside him. "What's yours?"

Deborah had barely returned when the doorbell rang again.

"Yuck," Deborah said, as they peered out the parlor window again. This delivery guy was skinny, with lank hair and acne.

Faye was already moving to the front door. "Pizza? We didn't order any pizza. I don't care who you called to confirm it, we don't want it." She shut the door in his face, and after a few minutes of hanging around the porch he went away.

As his delivery van was pulling out, another one pulled in. The tall, blond guy with the cardboard box kept looking behind him at the receding rival van as he walked to the door.

"Now
this
is more like it," Faye said.

When they brought the blond delivery guy into the den, Suzan and the muscular one were entangled on the couch. The pair disengaged themselves, the boy still looking foggy, and Faye poured the new guest a drink.

Within the next hour, the doorbell rang four more times and they collected two more delivery boys. Suzan divided her attention between the muscular one and a new one with high cheekbones who said he was part Native American. The other new one, who looked younger than the others and had soft-brown eyes, sat nervously next to Cassie.

"This is weird," he said, looking around the room, and taking another gulp from his glass. "This is so weird ... I don't know what I'm doing. I've got deliveries to make . . ." Then he said, "Gee, you're pretty."

Gee? thought Cassie. Gosh. Golly. Oh, my God. "Thanks," she said weakly, and glanced around the room for help.

None was forthcoming. Faye, looking sultry and exuding sensuality, was running one long crimson fingernail up and down the blond guy's sleeve. Suzan was sunk deep in the couch with an admirer on either side. Deborah was sitting on the arm of an overstuffed chair, eyes slitted and rather scornful.

"Can I put my arm around you?" the brown-eyed boy was asking hesitantly.

Boys aren't toys, Cassie thought. Even if this one did look like a teddy bear. Faye had brought these guys here to play with, and that was wrong . . . wasn't it? They didn't know what they were doing; they didn't have any
choice.

"I just moved up here last summer from South Carolina," the boy was going on. "I had a girl back there . . . but now I'm so lonely ..."

Cassie knew the feeling. This was a
nice
guy, her age, and his brown eyes, though a little glassy, were appealing. She didn't scream when he put his arm around her, where it rested warmly and a little awkwardly around her shoulders.

She felt light-headed. Something about the incense ... or the crystals, she thought. The music seemed to be pulsing inside her. She should be embarrassed by what was going on in this room-she
was
embarrassed-but there was something exciting about it too.

Some of the candles had gone out, making it darker.

The warmth around Cassie's shoulders was nice. She thought of yesterday night, when she'd wanted so much for someone to comfort her, to hold her. To make her feel not alone.