Cassie lay awake staring up at the canopy cascading down from her four-poster bed. She observed the sun reflecting off the pewter candlesticks upon the mantel and off the china clock on the opposite wall. At times she still felt like a stranger in this room, as if she were at an extended slumber party at some other girl's house.
When Cassie didn't get out of bed at her regular time, her mother knocked on her door gently with her knuckles.
"You're going to be late for school," her mother said, letting herself into the light-filled room.
Cassie didn't bother to say she didn't feel well. She didn't bother to speak at all. In fact, she was nearly catatonic in her motionless silence.
"You don't look so good," her mother said, squinting with concern. "Are you sick?"
Cassie had been avoiding her mother since the night she found out she had a sister. She knew if she confronted her about it, her mother would only try to explain it away like she did everything else. So instead, Cassie held the secret close to her chest, like a concealed weapon.
Her mother felt her forehead. Fretfully, she examined Cassie's eyes and the flushness of her skin. "I don't think you're running a temperature," she said.
Her long dark hair, pulled back from her face, made her appear even paler and thinner than usual, and Cassie appear even paler and thinner than usual, and Cassie worried that her mother was actually the one who wasn't well.
But as much as Cassie wanted to open up to her mother and tell her everything that was going on, she couldn't. She wasn't ready to forgive her yet.
"I'm not going to school today," Cassie said bluntly, making it clear she was in no way asking permission to stay home.
But her mother didn't argue. "I'll make you a hot cup of tea," she said.
"I don't want any tea."
"Okay then, no tea." She retrieved an extra blanket from the mahogany chest in the corner, shook it out, and covered Cassie with it lovingly. "Is everything all right, Cassie? Are you angry at me about something?"
Cassie turned onto her side, away from her mother. "I'm not angry," she said to the window. "I'm tired. Will you close the door on your way out?"
Her mother made no sound for a few seconds, but Cassie could sense her deliberating, whether she should push her daughter to talk to her when she knew something was wrong or let it go and give her the space she asked for.
"Please," Cassie said, to help her along. "Can you just go and let me rest?"
Her mother inhaled and then exhaled deeply. It was the sound of resignation. "Okay," she said. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll make some soup for lunch later." She made her way out of the room without another word.
made her way out of the room without another word.
Cassie couldn't have felt more alone once the door clicked shut. Her mom was a stranger to her and, as if that weren't enough, Adam had sided against her at their last meeting, and Diana felt like more of an enemy than a friend. Cassie had no one to turn to.
She got out of bed and went to the window. The sight of the jewel-blue water always soothed her, but it looked cool and lonely to her today.
I have to find some way to save Scarlett, Cassie thought. No matter what it takes.
What good was it being a witch if Cassie couldn't use her powers? Then again, how much power did she have without the full Circle behind her?
A shiver ran up her spine as she stared out at the ocean, but no answers came to her. She perceived the immeasurable span of the water and its waves, but her internal rhythm didn't synch to it the way it usually did. For once, it didn't appear to her that the sky and sea were waiting, watching, and listening to her.
She began to feel feverish, achy, and clammy. You're not actually sick, she told herself, but she still returned to bed and buried herself deep within her covers. Minutes passed, maybe an hour, but she couldn't rest. Every time she drifted toward a loose, mind-numbing sleep, she'd startle awake.
How could she allow herself to rest at a time like this?
Her Book of Shadows was in arm's reach within her nightstand drawer. She pulled it out and paged through it, searching for some hint or clue as to what to do next. But she knew deep down there were no magical shortcuts. She would have to go to Cape Cod and battle the hunters herself. It was the only way. She could die trying, and she knew it, but she couldn't think of a better reason to die.
Her thoughts were interrupted then by another knock at her bedroom door, this time louder and less gentle.
"Mom, I'm sleeping," she called out.