The Secret Circle: The Complete Collection by L. J. Smith Read Free Book Online

down. Cassie watched, fascinated, at what the girl was doing at the desk. The girl’s hands moved gracefully, grinding something up with a mortar and pestle. Spices? Whatever it was, the girl’s movements were quick and deft and her hands slender and pretty.
    And Cassie had the oddest feeling . . . If the girl would only look up , she thought. Just look outside her own window. Once she did, then . . . something would happen. Cassie didn’t know what, but her skin had broken out in gooseflesh. She had such a sense of connection, of . . . kinship . If the girl would just look up. . . .
    Yell. Throw a stone at the window. Cassie was actually looking for a stone when she saw movement again. The girl with the shining hair was turning, as if responding to someone inside the house calling her. Cassie had a glimpse of a lovely, dewy face—but only for the briefest instant. Then the girl had turned and was hurrying away, hair flying like silk behind her.
    Cassie let out her breath.
    It would have been stupid anyway, she told herself as she walked back home. Fine way to introduce yourself to your neighbors—throwing rocks at them. But the sense of crushing disappointment remained. She felt that somehow she’d never have another chance—she’d never get up the courage to introduce herself to that girl. Anyone that beautiful undoubtedly had plenty of friends without Cassie. Undoubtedly went with a crowd far beyond Cassie’s orbit.
    Her grandmother’s flat, square house looked even worse after the sunny Victorian one. Disconsolately, Cassie drifted over to the bluff, to look down at the ocean.
    Blue. A color so intense she didn’t know how to describe it. She watched the water washing around a dark rock and felt a queer thrill. The wind blew her hair back, and she stared out at the morning sun glittering on the waves. She felt . . . kinship again. As if something were speaking to her blood, to something deep inside her. What was it about this place—about that girl? She felt she could almost grasp it . . .
    “Cassie!”
    Startled, Cassie looked around. Her grandmother was calling from the doorway of the old wing of the house.
    “Are you all right? For heaven’s sake, get away from the edge!”
    Cassie looked down and immediately felt a wave of vertigo. Her toes were almost off the bluff. “I didn’t realize I was that close,” she said, stepping back.
    Her grandmother stared at her, then nodded. “Well, come away now and I’ll get you some breakfast,” she said. “Do you like pancakes?”
    Feeling a little shy, Cassie nodded. She had some vague memory about a dream that made her uncomfortable, but she definitely felt better this morning than she had yesterday. She followed her grandmother through the door, which was much thicker and heavier than a modern one.
    “The front door of the original house,” her grandmother explained. She didn’t seem to be having much trouble with her leg today, Cassie noticed. “Strange to have it lead directly into the kitchen, isn’t it? But that was how they did things in those days. Sit down, why don’t you, while I make the pancakes.”
    But Cassie was staring in amazement. The kitchen was like no kitchen she’d ever seen before. There was a gas range and a refrigerator—even a microwave shoved back on a wooden counter—but the rest of it was like something out of a movie set. Dominating the room was an enormous open fireplace as big as a walk-in closet, and although there was no fire now, the thick layer of ashes at the bottom showed that it was sometimes used. Inside, an iron pot hung on an iron crossbar. Over the fireplace were sprays of dried flowers and plants, which gave off a pleasant fragrance.
    And as for the woman in front of the hearth . . .
    Grandmothers were supposed to be pink and cozy, with soft laps and large checking accounts. This woman looked stooped and coarse, with her grizzled hair and the prominent mole on her cheek. Cassie kept half expecting her to go