Mark of the Witch

by Maggie Shayne

  And at that moment I felt as if a blade were being drawn across my skin. And again, and then again. I felt hot blood seeping, and I screamed in pain as I felt the shreds of my blood-soaked blouse falling away.

  Remember! Remember, damn you!

  Why would my one-time sister attack me this way?

  But I knew, didn’t I? Yes, I knew on some level that she had no choice, that she had to make me remember. That it was vital somehow. And that she wouldn’t go too far…

  Or maybe that last part was wishful thinking. I hoped she wouldn’t go too far.

  If you kill me, I’ll never be able to help anyone.

  I clutched my arm and, turning, stumbled back the way I had come, only belatedly thinking to press one hand to the wall so I wouldn’t get lost. I made my way to the place where I thought I should turn right and head toward the entrance again, but I couldn’t see the falls or even hear their roar. The slashing continued, and the pain was excruciating. I fell to my knees, crying out for help.

  And then I fell forward, my cheek slamming into the cool, unforgiving stone floor. It was so dark, so utterly devoid of any sensual stimulation, in the cave that I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed, whether I was conscious or unconscious. Whether I was still alive or finally, mercifully, dead.

  Maybe she’d gone too far, after all.

  * * *

  Tomas broke every speed limit getting back to the cabin, which was completely unlike him and clearly made Dom nervous. To his credit, though, Father Dom never once told him to slow down, at least not in so many words.

  Once he made it there, his relief was short-lived. The second he burst through the front door and called Indy’s name, he knew the place was empty.

  Father Dom was still making his way up the front stairs when Tomas found the note on the refrigerator.

  Taking the scenic route down to the lake, with a stop at the waterfall. Back soon.

  Rayne & Indy

  “Well, son? Where have they gone?” Dom asked.

  “Down to the lake.” He paced nervously to the sliding patio doors and looked out over the lake below. “They’re probably all right.”

  “I’ve no doubt they’re all right. Demon’s not likely to do harm to his own servants, now, is he? But if the witch figures out how to get her hands on that amulet, and he convinces her to give it to him instead of you, well…that’s a whole other matter. That puts us all in danger. Her included.”

  Tomas was irritated with Father Dom for being more concerned over the amulet than the safety of Indy and Rayne. But he let it pass for the moment—partly because he knew that was exactly the way Dom expected his priorities to fall, too. The way they would fall if he were putting the mission first. But they didn’t fall that way. Never had.

  Rayne was his sister, and he loved her. He was already regretting that she’d become entangled in this dangerous situation. And Indy was…Indy was…amazing. And not the devil’s mistress Father Dom was so damned determined to make him believe she was. Not even close to that.

  “She’s getting to you, isn’t she, Tomas? The witch?”

  He shot a look at Father Dom but didn’t answer. “I’m heading down to find them.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  Tomas almost snapped at him to stay behind, then caught himself. What the hell was happening to him? Dom might be a few bubbles off the beam about the demon and his plans for world domination, but he was his friend—family, really. “Best grab a jacket,” he said instead. And then he crossed the room, opened a closet door and took one for himself. It was big and made of faded denim, just heavy enough to keep out the chill. As he pulled it from the hanger, he spotted the old shotgun leaning against the rear corner of the closet. It had come with the house, and he’d had it inspected and repaired, and kept it around for emergencies. Rabid raccoons, or wounded animals in need of putting down.

  He’d never had to use it. Had often wondered if he had it in him to do so. Impulsively, he reached in and pulled it out.

  Father Dom raised his brows. “I didn’t know you owned a gun.”

  “There was a rabies scare a few years back,” he said.

  “Ah.”

  “Forgot I had it, to tell you the truth.”

  “You have…bullets?”

  “Yeah.” He handed the shotgun, a twenty-gauge pump action with a long barrel and open sights, to Father Dom, then turned back to the closet, reaching onto the overhead shelf and digging through piles of winter hats and various other items. Eventually he felt the heavy, cardboard box and pulled it down. “Just five slugs.”

  “We shouldn’t need more than that,” Father Dom said.

  “Let’s hope we don’t need any.” Tomas put the slugs in the breast pocket of his jacket, held the gun in one hand, barrel tilted downward, and headed out the back door and onto the trail.

  “Don’t you think you ought to load it?” Dom asked a few yards later.

  He was already breathless, and while Tomas felt sorry for the pace he was setting, he was also feeling more worried by the minute.

  “Like I said, I hope we don’t need it.”

  “But if we do, it would be more helpful loaded than empty.”

  Tomas just kept walking. The trees were nearly all bare, but the sunlight was warm for this late in the season. The light breeze carried the scent of apples from the cluster of trees in the tiny orchard off to the right of the cabin.

  “And given that thirteen priests were murdered by this demon only two days ago, I would think—”

  “Thirteen clerics,” Tomas corrected. They’d just heard the numbers that day: thirteen dead, twenty-three injured. It would have been much higher, but a number of attendees had been at an off-site function when the bomb went off. “They weren’t all priests.” He crossed himself and thanked God again that the death toll hadn’t been higher.

  “Load the gun, please, Tomas.”

  Dom was looking at him as if he’d noticed Tomas’s burgeoning tendency to argue with his every suggestion, so he nodded. But even as he reached into his pocket for the slugs, he caught movement from the corner of his eye, and when he turned, he saw the wolf.

  It was crouched low, its teeth bared in a menacing snarl. A low growl emanated from it as it kneaded the earth.

  “Tomas—”

  “I see it.” He flipped the gun in his hand, then fished a slug from the box in his pocket and slid it into place, but there was no time to pump the slug into the chamber before the animal sprang at him. Its forefeet hit him square in the chest, knocking him onto his back—hard—and the gun flew from his hand. With snarling, growling jaws snapping at his neck, he buried his hands in the beast’s fur to hold it away.

  Dom was scrambling, panicked, snatching up the gun, trying to work the pump action.

  Hot saliva, hotter breath on his face. The wolf pushed so hard that Tomas’s elbows bent, allowing it closer. Teeth scraped his neck. And then, with one massive, all-out effort, he straightened his arms again and sent the wolf flying off him and into a tree. It yelped in pain.

  He jumped to his feet, crouched and ready, as he watched the wolf regain its footing.

  It stared right back into his eyes, looking confused. Dom rushed to Tomas’s side, shouldering the gun.

  Tomas put a hand on the barrel, pushing it down, and the wolf turned and ran off into the forest.

  They stood there, both panting, Tomas from the battle, Dom from excitement. “Should have let me kill it,” the old man said.

  “Why? It wasn’t the wolf’s fault.” Tomas shook his head. “Hell, I didn’t even think there were wolves anywhere near here.”

  “Not just wolves, either.” Dom looked around, and Tomas followed his gaze. The older priest was looking into the trees to the left of the trail, where a coyote, smaller than the wolf, scrawnier, but just as dangerous, stood with his tongue lolling, staring intently at them.

  “They’re flanking us,” Dom said, nodding toward the other side.

  Tomas
turned to look, and sure enough, there was a second coyote, powerful and potentially deadly, on the opposite side of the trail.

  He quickly took the gun from Dom and shoved in three more rounds, then pumped one into the chamber, making room for one more. The box in his pocket was empty. All five slugs were in the gun. That was not only all he had, it was all it would hold.

  Caw! Caw! Caw!

  He jumped, startled by the nearness of the crow’s throaty call, then spotted it sitting on a limb only a few feet above his head. Staring at him. He stared back. “You’re one of God’s creatures, crow. Don’t let a demon use you. You’re too good for that.”

  He glanced left and right. “That goes for you two, as well,” he told the coyotes. “Go on, get out of here before I change my mind and shoot you all.” He waved his arms, one of them still holding the shotgun, and the coyotes scurried away as the crow left in a heavy flapping of black wings. Tomas angled the gun downward again. It was growing heavy as he kept on going.

  A half hour later Dom was puffing like a steam engine and Tomas was feeling more worried by the second. Dom was slowing him down, and his gut was telling him to get to Indy and get to her now.

  But the old man was going to keel over if he didn’t ease off on the pace.

  Tomas stopped, pointing out a stump where Dom immediately sat. Bracing his hands on his knees, the old priest leaned forward, panting. “I should have stayed behind,” he admitted between gasps.

  “Yeah, and going back up will be a lot worse, you know.” Tomas looked back the way they had come. “Maybe you should just wait here.”

  Dom lifted his head and probably saw the urgency in Tomas’s eyes. “Yes. If you’ll leave me the gun. I don’t want any more demon-eyed wildlife coming around.”

  “Don’t kill anything unless you have to,” Tomas said, handing him the weapon. “You know how to use it?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “There’s a bullet in the chamber. All you have to do is turn off the safety—” he showed him the button with a forefinger “—aim and shoot. If you need more than one, you’ll need to—”

  “I saw what you did. I know what to do next.” Father Dom patted his hand, which was still holding the weapon, then drew the gun closer to him. “Go on.”

  “I’ll be back for you soon. If you feel like heading back to the cabin, just stay on the path. There are a couple of forks, but if you keep going right, you’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you, Tomas. Be safe now. And keep your mission in mind above all else. Your duty. Your calling. Remember that.”

  “Always.” He said it, but he didn’t mean it. He was relieved to leave Dom behind, relieved because it freed him to do whatever he had to do to protect Indy and Rayne, without the old man’s watchful, judgmental eyes on him.

  He gave Dom a final nod, and continued down the steep and twisting path. In a few minutes he could hear the waterfall in the distance. Encouraged, he picked up his pace and finally emerged from the forested path into the clearing at the edge of the cliffs. The gorgeous waterfall came into view, taking his breath away—but only for an instant. He glimpsed Rayne sitting on a boulder near the edge of the waterfall, staring at it as if trying to see through it. He lifted his hand, about to call out to her, then froze when he heard a scream.

  Rayne heard it, too, and jumped off her makeshift seat. “Indy?” she called.

  Tomas ran the last dozen yards, grabbed his sister by the arm and heard a second scream. “She’s in the cave?” he demanded.

  “I couldn’t stop her. She said she had to go. Tomas, get her. Help her!”

  He nodded. “I left Dom halfway up the trail,” he said, yanking off his jacket, then his shoes. “Go back for him, get him back to the cabin. And for God’s sake, make some noise so he knows you’re coming. He’s got the shotgun, and he’s spooked.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I don’t want you here.” He clasped her neck, drew her closer and kissed her forehead. “I love you, sis. But this is my mission. My problem. If anything happened to you—”

  “Oh, go get Indy already.”

  He did, wading into the water and hissing at the cold, then pushing straight through the freezing cascade and into the darkness of the cave beyond it.

  About thirty feet in, he found her, his feet bumping against the softness of her body on the cave floor. Quickly dropping to his knees, he felt around to find which end of her was which, and immediately realized that she was nearly naked from the waist up. His hands slid over the warm skin of her belly, his knuckles grazing a rounded breast, before he drew them away and reached for her arms.

  He found them, along with the sticky blood that coated them. He wiped his hands on his pant legs and touched her again, seeking her face this time, and finding it.

  “Indy?” he asked, cupping her cheeks, patting one of them. “Indy, wake up now. Wake for me, okay?” He slid his fingers over her neck to feel for a pulse and heard the whisper of her breath in the process. “Good. You’re alive.”

  “Tomas?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” He shifted her up off the floor, holding her against his chest to warm her. She was shivering.

  “I…I found it, Tomas.”

  He blinked in the darkness. “You found…”

  “The Portal.”

  He looked deeper into the cave but saw nothing. And yet he did not doubt her. “I need to get you out of here, Indy. You’re hurt, and I can’t even see how badly.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He slid his arms beneath her and picked her up. Her body nestled close to his, naked skin against his shirt, beneath his arms. Every part of him was reacting, feeling her, wanting her, raging against whatever force had caused her harm or pain. He was reacting to her like a lover, not like a priest, and he knew it.

  But if Father Dom could accuse her of manipulating him, of casting spells that would cut her to ribbons just to elicit his protective instincts, then he was a fool. This woman was an innocent. There wasn’t an evil cell in her body.

  He lowered his head to kiss her forehead, but she tipped her chin up, and he caught her lips instead. Her hands immediately dove into his hair and held him to her as her lips parted. He tasted her with his tongue, and the kiss heated, deepened, intensified, until he was feeding from her mouth and she from his.

  He was aroused—powerfully, almost painfully, aroused. And it was wrong. Yet he couldn’t stop kissing her. And then a flash, an image—a memory?—entered his mind. He was kissing her, and it was him, and it was her, but it wasn’t. She had long dark hair and wore flowing skirts below a tiny scrap of fabric that barely covered her breasts. There was thick dark liner around her eyes. He wore a tunic of white, with a gold sash. His hair was long, and his heart was damn near bursting with emotion.

  With love.

  For her.

  He broke the kiss, shaken, and certain that his vision was true. They’d been together before. In that other lifetime. And he remembered it now.

  But given the intensity of the feeling that had just swept through him, could he really have killed her?

  He lifted his head and, saying nothing, strode forward. When he carried her back out through the freezing waterfall it was a painful relief.

  12

  Cold water shocked me back to consciousness, but consciousness brought pain. Hot, burning pain so bad I hissed through my teeth before I even opened my eyes.

  Tomas had me in his arms, carrying me. He was dripping wet, and so was I, and we were moving toward the flat rock where Rayne and I had been sitting before. Behind us, I saw the waterfall and realized he’d carried me through it. He must have come into the cave after me. I was briefly amazed that he would do that. And then I wondered how much farther he would have come to rescue me. What if I’d gone through the Portal into the Underworld itself? Would he have come after me then?

  Reaching the big rock, he lowered me onto its cool surface. I could feel mist from the waterfall hitting my
skin, and though I was cold and already wet, that soft shower felt soothing somehow. I tried to meet his eyes.

  He wasn’t looking at me, though. He’d spotted something to the left and quickly grabbed it.

  My cell phone. He pointed it at me, and I realized he was snapping photos.

  “What…are you doing…that for?” I could barely speak, the pain was so intense.

  “It’s happened again, Indy. Look at your arms.”

  I did, only then remembering that my shirt was missing. I was lying there in my demi-bra and cargo pants. And before I could object, he was snapping more photos. Automatically, I crossed my arms over my chest—though I was the furthest thing from shy, and my bra covered as much as a bikini would have. It was more or less a reflex action. But as I moved, wincing at the new pain the movement caused, I looked down and saw the reason for his urgent picture taking. My arms were once again crisscrossed with cuts—the symbols of some forgotten language. Blood trickled from them, and still he snapped away.

  “Do you give a shit that I’m bleeding to death down here?”

  He lowered the phone, met my eyes at last. “You’re not. But one of these days you will be if these episodes keep up, and the only way we can stop them is to get the answers we need and end your involvement in this thing for good.” His eyes softened as tears brimmed in mine, and he reached out to touch my face.

  That was when it came rushing back to me—kissing in the cave, holding each other, and the feeling, just for an instant, that the two of us were madly, deeply, in love. Not just the memory but the feeling itself returned to me. In that moment I adored him, knew he was my soul mate, had no doubt he loved me just as much. I would have died for him without a second thought.

  His eyes met mine, and he whispered my name and leaned closer. As our lips met again I was whisked back in time, until I was once again on that cliff, and he was behind me, his hands on my back.