The Secret Circle: The Hunt Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  About the Author

  Other Works

  Credits

  Copyright

  Back Ads

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER 1

  Cassie held her father’s Book of Shadows in her hands and shivered. There would be no going back, her mother had said, but now she watched Cassie expectantly.

  The book’s gold deckle-edged pages were cinched closed with a leather string, like a soft, thin belt. Cassie pulled on it, and dust particles flew into the air as its knot came undone, but the book’s cover remained in place.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” her mother said. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Cassie nodded. If this book contained the secrets to defeating her half sister, Scarlett, and saving the Circle from the hunters, it wasn’t even a question. It was her duty to study it.

  She carefully fanned open the book. Its spine cracked and Cassie’s eyes seemed to meld to the page. The text scrawled upon the paper’s yellowed surface was composed of squiggly lines and archaic symbols. The curl of each brushstroke felt forbidden, like Cassie had revealed something not intended for her eyes.

  But before Cassie could process exactly what she was seeing, the book grew warm in her hands, and then threateningly hot. Within seconds the skin of her fingers was sizzling, and Cassie couldn’t stop herself from crying out. Her flesh adhered to the book, and she couldn’t pull her hands away despite the scorching pain.

  Her mother’s face was stricken with fear, but she acted fast. She raised her palm and with one wide swoop batted the book out of Cassie’s hands and onto the floor.

  Cassie released a whimper of relief, but the damage had been done. Her hands were singed red with throbbing, bubbling burns.

  She looked at her mother, terrified. “You said it was just a book.”

  “It was. Or I thought it was.” Her mother examined Cassie’s injuries to see how serious they were. Then she glanced at where the book had landed facedown on the wooden floor. She moved toward it cautiously, picked it up without harm, and secured it closed by tightly retying the string.

  “I’ll put this somewhere safe for now,” she said. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I had no idea that would happen. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I don’t understand.” Cassie gaped at her mother, dizzy for answers. “You said I’d need this book to defeat Scarlett, but how can I study it if I can’t even hold it?”

  Her mother shook her head. “I don’t know. It must be spelled, to keep it from being opened by anyone other than its owner.”

  “Then I have to figure out how to break the spell. Scarlett is out there somewhere, and she wants to kill me. That book is my only hope against her.”

  Her mother raised her hand to halt Cassie’s anxious stream of consciousness. “One thing at a time. Our first priority is to tend to those burns. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

  She gave Cassie’s shoulder a quick, loving squeeze, and then she ushered the book out of sight.

  When she returned with an armful of gauze and ointment, Cassie’s mind was racing with new questions and concern for her friends who’d been marked by the hunters. “Faye’s and Laurel’s lives might depend on me opening that book,” Cassie said. “I have to try again.”

  Her mother sat beside her looking forlorn. “Faye and Laurel are in grave danger.” She reached for Cassie’s hands and began dressing the wounds. “But there are two steps to the process of witch hunters killing a witch: They catch you doing magic and you’re marked, and only then can they perform the killing curse. If we can stop the hunters from performing the second step, your friends will be okay.”

  The killing curse. Cassie remembered the hunter mark, the aftermath of the curse on Melanie’s aunt Constance’s forehead the day she died. The Circle hadn’t even known the hunters had marked her until it was too late.

  “Why don’t the hunters just perform the killing curse immediately after marking someone?” Cassie asked. “Why wait?”

  “Because it takes just one hunter to mark someone, but the killing curse requires several of them.” Cassie’s mother wrapped the burns quickly and efficiently, like a battlefield nurse. “It’s a process, much like a spell, so it can’t just happen at any moment.”

  Cassie winced as the harsh gauze touched her raw skin.

  “So Faye and Laurel will need to be protected,” her mother said. “But tonight, the only thing for you to do is rest.”

  Cassie nodded. She still had so many questions, but the pain was making her weary. She moved to the comfort of her own bed and felt her eyes grow heavy. She allowed them to close as sleep overtook her. But even in the soft dark of her own eyelids, Cassie could see the glowing outline of her father’s book shining against the black.

  The next morning, Cassie’s mind was still running in circles while she waited on her front porch for Adam to pick her up for school. She tried to relax, to admire the sun glinting red off the windows of each house on the bluff, but there was too much to be anxious about. In the past week Cassie had learned that her half sister wanted to kill her and take over the Circle—and she’d nearly succeeded. They’d had a confrontation in Cape Cod, and Cassie had chased Scarlett away, but she’d escaped with the Master Tools.

  As if that weren’t enough, there was also the issue of the hunters. The Circle was now sure that Max and his father—Principal Boylan—were witch hunters. They’d already marked Laurel and Faye with the hunter symbol, and it was possible they knew the identities of all the Circle members.

  Cassie looked down at the gray paint peeling off the front porch. This old house, she thought, this antiquated town. There was no escaping its ancient history.

  It was a sunny, windless day, but how could Cassie enjoy it? She pulled the sleeves of her purple hoodie down over her hands to cover her burns. She would have disappeared entirely into its soft cotton if she could. And then she heard something—a rustling in the bushes. It’s just the breeze, she told herself, but not a single blade of grass stirred.

  There was the crunching of leaves. It was coming from her left, along the row of shrubs that lined the path to the house’s side door—an opportune place for an intruder to break in, or for Scarlett to sneak her way into Cassie’s home.

  Treading lightly across the rickety wooden porch, Cassie stepped closer to the sound. The shrubs moved again—this time she saw it with her own eyes—and she screamed, “Scarlett!”

  An orange tabby cat shot out from the wavering hedge, zipping past Cassie and up a neighbor’s tree. The cat’s prey was left behind in the uncut grass: a sorry-looking field mouse. Cassie exhaled. She would have laughed out loud at herself if she weren’t so embarrassed.

  She walked back around to the front porch just as Adam pulled up to the curb. Her heart hadn�
�t yet returned to its regular rhythm when she climbed into the passenger seat of his old Mustang and leaned over for a kiss.

  “What were you doing in the backyard?” Adam asked as he pulled out of her driveway and onto Crowhaven Road. “Running laps? You’re all sweaty.”

  “Is that any way to greet your girlfriend?” Cassie joked. “By telling her she’s perspiring?”

  Adam smiled. “I’m just saying you look hot, that’s all. Hot and humid.” He waited for her to laugh, and when she didn’t he tilted his head at her apologetically.

  Cassie appreciated Adam’s sense of humor, even when he was teasing her. No matter how dire the situation was with the hunters and with Scarlett, Adam was still able to make light of things. Cassie needed that now more than ever.

  She focused on the sparkle in his blue-gray eyes and thought of the silver cord, that mystifying bond that connected Adam’s soul to hers. What did it mean that she’d also seen a cord connecting Adam to Scarlett on the night of their battle? Could she have imagined it? Cassie could hardly think about it. She reached for Adam’s free hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

  “Is that from the fire in Cape Cod?” Adam asked. He lifted Cassie’s sleeve up, revealing the blistering spots on her left hand. “I didn’t realize how bad these were before. Are they getting worse?”

  Cassie remained silent, unsure of how to explain these new marks on her body, but her silence only misled Adam to believe he’d been correct about their source.

  “We have to find Scarlett,” he said. “She has to pay for this and everything else she’s done.” Cassie still didn’t know what to say; the situation was much more complicated than that.

  “How can you sit there so calmly?” He took his eyes off the road to momentarily glance at Cassie. “You’ve been physically, and most likely permanently, scarred by her. We can’t let her get away with this.”

  “These burns aren’t from my battle with Scarlett,” Cassie said, more abruptly than she’d meant to. “They’re from last night.”

  Adam slowed the car almost to a stop. “Last night? What happened last night?”

  Cassie watched a crowded school bus zip past them on the left. Behind them, a frustrated tailgater honked his horn. “I don’t want to keep any secrets from you,” she said. “But if I tell you something, I need it to stay between us.”

  Adam pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine, sensing this would require his full attention. “I think it goes without saying by this point, but you can trust me.”

  They were stopped in front of Sprinkles Donut Shop, and the air smelled like sugar and frosting.

  “My mother gave me something last night. Something that had been hidden in my grandmother’s house for a long time,” Cassie said, and then paused. She knew she could tell Adam anything and he wouldn’t judge her, but it was still difficult getting the words out.

  “Don’t tell me there are more Master Tools we didn’t know about. That would be incredible.” Adam’s voice was hopeful in a way that made Cassie’s heart break.

  “No. But it is something that belonged to Black John.”

  Adam’s posture straightened at the sound of Black John’s name and he sat icily still.

  “I have his Book of Shadows,” Cassie said.

  She watched Adam’s expression turn from apprehensive to excited. “Are you serious?” he shouted. “Do you realize how much we can learn from that book?”

  “There’s more,” Cassie said, before Adam could get carried away. “When I opened it, it was like the book turned against me, like it was alive in my hands. Just like when the Master Tools backfired on me when I was battling Scarlett.”

  Adam nodded, remembering how the Tools had obeyed Scarlett’s black magic. They’d singed Cassie’s skin just before they unhinged themselves from her body and flew at Scarlett’s outstretched hands. “That explains the burns,” he said. “But what’s the connection between the two?”

  “I think the book is spelled,” Cassie said. “Something to prevent the wrong people from getting a hold of it. But it wasn’t like I could read it anyway. It’s written in some ancient language I’ve never seen before. It doesn’t even look like words.”

  “We should have Diana search her Book of Shadows for information.” Adam immediately went into strategizing mode. “There must be a way to break the book’s spell. And we can all start researching the language. There’s a chance it could be Sumerian, or even cuneiform. Black John’s ancestors would go back that far.”

  “Adam,” Cassie interrupted him. “Remember you agreed we could keep this between us?”

  Adam’s face dropped. He looked away momentarily. “But that was before I knew what it was.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cassie said. “But I need to understand more of what this is before involving the rest of the Circle. This is about me and my father.”

  “It’s a pretty big deal.” Adam’s voice hit that pitch it always did when he was exasperated. “We have to tell the Circle eventually.”

  “I know,” Cassie said as gently as she could. She reminded herself that Adam’s passion and perseverance were her favorite things about him. “I just need a little time.”

  She fiddled with the few strands of reddish-brown hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “For now, let this be our secret.”

  Adam nodded, realizing he was pushing too hard. “Okay. But in the meantime I want to help in any way I can. I’ll do research, whatever you need. Just name it.”

  Cassie felt her shoulders settle. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to him. “For now, all I need is your support.”

  “Always.” Adam brought Cassie’s injured hand to his warm lips and kissed it.

  “I also need a chocolate glazed donut from Sprinkles,” Cassie added.

  “Your wish is my command.” Adam leaned in, met Cassie’s lips with his own, and kissed her without restraint. It felt good, and it felt right. Maybe there was hope for this day yet.

  CHAPTER 2

  Cassie was sitting in third-period history debating between (a) the Continental Congress and (b) the House of Representatives on her pop quiz, when a hall monitor came to the door and handed Ms. Darby a pink slip of paper.

  “Laurel,” Ms. Darby said. “Mr. Boylan wants to see you in his office right away.”

  Cassie’s head shot up. She couldn’t allow Laurel to be alone with the principal. He was a witch hunter, and Laurel had been marked.

  Laurel looked at Cassie and then back at Ms. Darby. “But I haven’t finished my test yet.”

  “You can make it up after school,” Ms. Darby said. “The principal wouldn’t call you out of class unless it was important.”

  Laurel hesitated.

  “Go on.” Ms. Darby pointed to the doorway. “If you’re in trouble for something, standing here and keeping him waiting surely won’t help matters any.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Laurel said.

  Cassie watched her fearfully gather her books. What could she do to stop her?

  Laurel handed her exam in to Ms. Darby and obediently followed the monitor out the door, glancing over her shoulder at Cassie one last time.

  There were no other Circle members in class, so it was up to Cassie to do something. One way or another, she had to get herself into the principal’s office. Laurel’s life could be at stake.

  Cassie quickly scribbled in the remaining empty blanks on her exam, and then rushed up to the front of the room.

  “I’m done, Ms. Darby.” She held her side and bit her lip. “And I’m not feeling so well. May I go to the nurse?”

  Ms. Darby eyed Cassie, trying to discern if she was faking.

  Cassie swallowed hard, cleared her throat, and leaned forward like she might puke right on Ms. Darby’s desk.

  “Go,” Ms. Darby said, and Cassie bolted for the hallway.

  She ran the whole way, ignoring multiple commands from teachers telling her to slow down, and arrived at the principal’s office panting. Immediatel
y, she could feel an energy in the air—something dark and morose. The door to Mr. Boylan’s office was closed.

  “Hi there, Cassie. What can I do for you?” asked Mrs. Karol, the perpetually rosy-cheeked office secretary.

  “There’s an emergency,” Cassie said, catching Mrs. Karol by surprise. “In the gymnasium. A fight or something, I’m not sure, but people were screaming for someone to get the principal right away.”

  “Not again.” Mrs. Karol scooted off her seat and hurried over to the principal’s door. She knocked on it anxiously while turning the knob to let herself in.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I think we’ve got a brawl on our hands, down in the gymnasium.”

  Mr. Boylan jerked backward, away from Laurel, the moment the door opened. He patted down his salt-and-pepper hair and straightened his gray suit. “I’m a little busy here.”

  He backpedaled to his desk and grabbed a pen and manila folder, presumably to appear more official. “And how many times have I told you, you can’t just barge into my office like that.”

  “Don’t you snap at me,” Mrs. Karol said, with her bright smile fully intact. “It’s not my fault your students behave like wild animals.” She entered the room and took him by the elbow of his finely tailored jacket. “Now hurry up. You’re the only one who can handle this.”

  Cassie spotted Laurel seated across from Mr. Boylan’s large oak desk. She waved at her to try to catch her attention, but Laurel was entirely oblivious to everything going on around her. She was as pale as a ghost, and her eyes were focused on an invisible spot in front of her.

  With a huff, Mr. Boylan followed Mrs. Karol toward the gymnasium. “Let’s make this quick,” he said, and then noticed Cassie for the first time.