For Kit.
By Moreta.
Deborah slips from her bed. It's almost midnight, the witching hour. Her fierce grin flashes in the darkness. How appropriate.
After she's dressed, she goes down the stairs, rubbing her arm. It still aches from the Circle's stand against Black John. She doesn't know why she bothers to be quiet. Her parents are fighting again, their voice rough. Something thumps in their room.
Deborah can't stand it anymore. The house is heavy with guilt, aged by shattered futures, and she flees. Her parents are prisoners of their mistakes, and she wants to be free. The moon is calling, and she starts her motorcycle.
Nick is in the garage, smoking. The naked light bulb swings above his head. He gives her a short nod. He says nothing, and even though they've never talked about it, Deborah knows he understands.
She takes off for the road. Her hair flies out, wind whipping it. She's cold, her face stinging, but oh God, how alive she feels. She's riding the wind, lithe and strong. It steals her breath like a lover, and she laughs. If she could only do this forever, she'd never die. She's meant to be young and reckless.
Far above her is the moon. It's full, not crescent-shaped like the tattoo she has on her collarbone, but she's content. She's always loved the moon in all of its phases. It's why she got the tattoo. It didn't make her parents happy, but she doesn't care. They've never understood her, and they never will.
The silent houses fade in the distance. She doesn't want to go back there. It depresses her to see her mother. Grace Armstrong's eyes are that of a caged animal. She married the wrong brother, and what's worse, he knows it too. Deborah won't repeat her mother's mistake. A small voice - the one that haunts her - whispers that she will.
Deborah races the wind, casting off her doubts. It batters her from every side, and she grits her teeth. Power of wind have I over thee. She spins around on the road, dirt kicking up in clouds, and she wipes the wetness from her eyes. Some may say she's crying, but Deborah Armstrong never cries.
She heads back to Crowhaven Road. Nick is still in the garage, watching her speed by, and she can see the ocean. Moonlight skims its surface, creating a silver road. Her breath catches in her throat. She revs up the engine.
The moonlit path beckons. Deborah closes her eyes, imagining the plunge. She thinks she'll drown, but just maybe, she'll fly.
Then she sees Cassie on the cliff.
Deborah stops her bike. It spits out gravel, dust forming little whirlwinds. She gets off the bike, staggering over to the cliff's edge. Her breathing is ragged, and she combs through her tangled hair. Under her jacket, she shivers.
She's not surprised to see Cassie. Ever since they took that ride together, she's seen Cassie return there from time to time. Adam never comes with her, though. He's a creature of the forest, and this is not for him.
It makes Deborah glad. She likes Adam well enough, but this place is hers. Hers and Cassie's. An understanding between them was born that night. It has changed the way Deborah thinks about the other girl. It has also helped her to understand Nick better. Aside from their last name, they have something else in common.
They're in love with the same girl.
Or at least Deborah thinks so. She's never been in love before, so she can't be sure. But she knows that Cassie fascinates her. Sometimes it baffles Deborah. Cassie is an ordinary-looking girl, unlike the other girls in the coven. She's not one to dazzle people.
But maybe that's a part of Cassie's appeal. Diana is too ethereal, Faye too disturbing, and the others too beautiful. The longer Deborah knows Cassie, the more she sees. The ever-changing colors in Cassie's hair, her dreamy wild-flower blue eyes, and her mouth.
It's those eyes that finally did her in, Deborah muses. Not the color itself, but the way Cassie looks at people. Her eyes are so sincere, the emotion in them heartfelt. She used to be scared of Deborah, and Deborah reveled in it once. Now that Cassie's gained confidence, her gaze is level, with just a hint of wistfulness, and now it's Deborah's turn to look away.
Cassie says something, maybe a greeting, and Deborah snaps out of her daze. She hasn't heard anything Cassie's said and she winces.
A frown creases Cassie's forehead. She evidently senses Deborah's discomfort because she fixes her gaze on the ocean. The moonlight shines on her face, and Deborah notes the blush creeping over Cassie's cheekbones.
The silence is killing Deborah. She's always been brave, but she can't even tell Cassie how she feels. Like Nick, words don't come to her easily. If she can't tell Cassie, she'll just have to show her someday.
"Want a ride?" she says.
Cassie nods and smiles. She climbs on the bike and puts her arms around Deborah. Her head is buried against Deborah's shoulder. That, Deborah expects. But what she doesn't expect is the way Cassie touches her. She gasps as Cassie's hands steal under her jacket, then under her shirt, making little languorous circles.
Deborah holds her breath. She's dreamed of this, but now it's actually happening, it's almost too much. She can only marvel. How did Cassie know? Deborah wonders if her Sight has anything to do with it. The clearest sight, the most power, and all of that. Cassie's grandmother once said that they could see the future.
And now that Cassie's touching her all in the right places, Deborah realizes that maybe it's true. She doesn't worry about Adam. He's Cassie's soulmate, but maybe there's a place for Deborah in Cassie's future. And maybe there's even room for Nick. But that's later and all Deborah cares about is now.
The wind is getting colder, but Deborah feels warm. She closes her eyes and imagines that she sees the silver cord that Cassie described once. It's between Adam and Cassie, but Cassie touches Deborah just so. The cord unfolds from Cassie's caress, the silvered web spiraling further and further until it ensnares Deborah. How beautiful, how right it is. It's how the Circle is supposed to be.
"Let's go," Cassie whispers.
Her voice makes Deborah's eyes open. She still hasn't stopped touching, and Deborah laughs aloud. The moon is still high in the sky, and it is night yet. Deborah starts her bike, and under the moon, they take off for roads unknown.
Power of moon have I over thee.
Back to the main page.
Disclaimer: the characters, fictional settings, and universes created by L. J. Smith are copyright © Lisa J. Smith, Daniel Weiss Associates, Inc. and their affiliates. This fan-created site, along with the stories it houses, means no infringement upon any trademark, copyright, or other legal binding. This archive claims no rights to any of the stories collected here.