But no one’s attention was on them.
There were four police cars parked on the grass outside McGraw Hall, as well as an ambulance with its back doors standing open. As they looked on, two EMT’s came out of the building, a black body bag strapped onto the gurney they rolled between them. It jounced down the steps, but the body stayed aboard.
“I still can’t believe it,” Tomas said.
“It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason for the demon to target him. He’s not a priest, and he might have been about to give us exactly what the demon’s supposedly waiting for. A way for me to get that amulet.”
Tomas knew she was right. “We’re missing something. We have to be.”
“I see them,” Indy said quickly. “Father Dom and Rayne. Tomas, I don’t want Father Dom to know about the scrolls we found. At least not yet.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Please?”
“He’s going to see the chest.”
“Not if you give me the car keys right now,” she said.
He swallowed hard, then nodded once and handed her the keys. She took them and went jogging over the rolling lawns, taking the shortest route to where they’d parked the car.
He dragged his eyes from her and turned his attention back to the crowd. Spotting Rayne, he lifted a hand and waved. Relief relaxed her face when she spotted him, and she came plowing through the onlookers toward him. She was halfway there before he noticed Father Dom shuffling more slowly behind her, muttering apologies as he shouldered his way amid the throng.
As soon as she broke free and crossed the grass to meet him, Rayne flung herself into Tomas’s arms, and he held her hard. “God, I’m glad to see you!” she said. “I was getting so worried. I don’t know what’s happening around here.”
Her words were muffled by his shoulder, but he made them out. “I can’t believe the cops are still here. It’s been hours.”
“Given the bombing, they’re being extremely careful not to miss anything,” Father Dom said. He looked around. “Where’s Indy?”
Tomas’s reality had undergone a profound shift while he’d been underground with Indy. He realized it as soon Dom asked where she was, because it made him tense up and feel defensive. As if Dom were the enemy.
“She went to get the car,” he said. “I was concerned about your leg.” It was an absolute lie. He’d known Dom long enough to know his limp came and went as suited the occasion. “What have the police said about Jon?” he asked, to shift the subject away from Indy.
The ambulance was pulling away now. A pair of cops were making the rounds, questioning people, taking notes. Rayne backed away from him, her hands still on his shoulders, her eyes damp. “They’re not saying much of anything.”
“Not to the general public,” Dom said. “One of the officers told me—off the record, of course—that it looks like a straightforward suicide to him.”
“He used an extension cord,” Rayne whispered.
Father Dom placed a heavy hand on Tomas’s shoulder. “The secretary found him hanging from a light fixture in his office. No one else appears to have been there, but I have no doubt this is yet another death on the shoulders of He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken.”
“I don’t know,” Tomas said. “Indy was just saying how that makes no sense. Jon was about to give us the incantation that would let her get her hands on the amulet. The very tool he believes he needs to escape his underworld prison. Why would he kill Jon before he gave it to us?”
“Why does a demon do anything?” Dom asked. “Maybe he’s figured out that she’s going to give the amulet to us instead of him, and that we intend to destroy it for all time. Maybe he prefers to let it go for now, until the stars align again in another three and a half millennia rather than risk never having another chance at all.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. I got the incantation.” He patted his breast pocket.
The Volvo pulled to a stop along the nearby campus road, and Indy jumped out and trotted toward them, keys in hand.
When she got there, Tomas said, “Dom got the incantation.”
Her eyes widened as she handed him the keys. “How did you manage it?” she asked Dom.
“This collar buys me a lot more access than your normal Joe. I asked for privacy to deliver the Last Rites before they moved the body and took a quick look around his desk. He’d already printed it out for us.”
Rayne frowned at him. “I never saw you go into the—”
“It was while you were still with Tomas and Indira,” Dom told her.
She lowered her head, but her frown remained.
“What about the rest of it?” Indy asked quickly. “The text he said was titled That Which I Must Remember. What about that?”
His eyes shifted away from hers. “He hadn’t printed anything but the incantation. I didn’t have time to look through his computer files. That would have been pushing it.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We have the incantation. That’s all we need.” He started heading toward the Volvo. “Samhain is tomorrow night, Tomas,” he said with a glance over his shoulder. “We’re nearly out of time.” He reached the car, went around to the front passenger door and pulled it open.
Tomas was about to get in the driver’s side when Rayne hurried up behind him, clapped him on the shoulder and held her other hand out, palm up.
“Keys.”
He frowned.
“You just lost a friend. You’re so distracted you’re almost walking into things. I’ll drive.”
It took him a moment, but he realized she was right. His brain seemed to be operating in slow-mo. He slapped the keys into her palm, muttered his thanks and got in the back. Indy was already there, and she met his eyes and told him without a word that it was going to be okay.
He wondered how. Because he couldn’t squelch the feeling that Dom seemed almost relieved by Jon’s death.
Dom was all about secrecy, about telling no one of the mission, about destroying every hint of evidence once it was done. Jon was a snag in all that. He’d seen the photographic evidence and translated it. “He’d seen more than that. A lot more.”
“You haven’t told us about your end of things,” Dom said. “Did you find anything?”
Tomas met Indy’s eyes, saw the plea in them, made his decision. “No. It was a…very long wild-goose chase.”
He saw the relief and gratitude in her eyes before she shifted her attention to Dom. “Can I see the printout?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat.
He twisted, taking the single folded sheet of printer paper from his coat pocket as he did, then handed it over to her without even an argument. Tomas noticed that Indy’s hands trembled as she took it.
He wondered if there was something in that translation that might have driven Jon to suicide somehow. But he couldn’t even imagine anything that powerful.
Indy was unfolding the sheet, looking at it, frowning. Then she sighed heavily. “It’s so simple.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dom said.
Indy handed the paper to Tomas, and his eyes skimmed the lines.
By the powers of earth and sky,
By the forces of Goddess and God,
Return to me that which I gave you for safekeeping long ago.
That I might restore it to its rightful place
And reset the balance once more.
It didn’t rhyme. It wasn’t pretty. It was simple, straightforward, and yet somehow so powerful it made him shiver.
He looked up and met Indy’s eyes. She looked a bit shell-shocked. And he understood. All they’d gone through, just for those few simple lines. He put a hand over hers.
“I can’t believe we’re this close to ending it,” she said. “I just have to say the spell, and the amulet will…what? Just magically appear?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Tomas said, but he quickly realized that she wasn’t asking him, and he handed the sheet over to Rayne, who skimmed it quickly while they were stopped for a
light.
“We’ll soon find out,” she said as she started driving again. “We’ll do the spell tonight, as soon as I’ve given Indy the proper initiations. That way she’ll be stronger, better able to handle whatever happens next.”
Indy nodded, but she looked scared to death. “Initiations? Plural?”
“I think we’d better do all three.”
“Don’t worry,” Tomas said, closing his hand around hers. “I’ll be right there with you.”
“No, you won’t, Tomas.” Rayne drove a little faster, as if eager to get on with things. “The Wiccan Ceremonies of Initiation are oathbound sacred rites, not spectator sports. You are not allowed to watch.” She shifted her eyes to Dom. “That goes for you, too.” And then she glanced up at Indy in the rearview mirror. “But I’ll be right beside you. And we’ll be in the safety of a sacred circle, surrounded by the Guardians of the Watchtowers, in the presence of the Lord and Lady. You will be safe. I promise.”
Indy nodded, but the fear in her beautiful green eyes didn’t dissipate even a little bit. And Tomas thought he knew what she was thinking. Sure, she would be safe during the ceremony. But what about after? When she had to face a demon and decide whether to help him—or destroy him?
* * *
I was afraid to let the ancient scrolls out of my sight. I couldn’t have said why, but I couldn’t even bring myself to hide them in my room, the way I had been doing with my journal. The box, yes. I tucked that into the back of the closet and threw a pair of jeans and a T-shirt over it. But the scrolls themselves—I couldn’t part with those. I mean, really, how were you supposed to truly hide anything in a house that wasn’t your own? Anyone who cared to hunt hard enough would find it under the mattress or tucked in the back of the closet. I could have locked it inside my suitcase, but let’s face it, luggage locks are a joke.
I’d told Rayne about the scrolls and the words under the lid of the box saying that they were for the Eyes of Spirit alone, which had strengthened her decision to perform all three initiations together. I had to take a shower, Rayne said. She instructed me to make it a sacred one, rinsing away negative energies and vibrations, cleansing my spirit as well as my body, in preparation for the ritual. I took the ancient scrolls into the bathroom with me and locked the door. I would have taken them into the shower if I wasn’t so afraid of ruining them. They were important. Ancient. And they held a message for me. For me. It had been written Goddess only knew how many centuries ago. For me.
It was mind-boggling. And while part of me was dying to take a peek, the rest of me was embracing a newfound respect for and belief in the ways of magic, the Craft of the Wise and even the rules of that path, though I still believed that they, like any dogma, were man-made and therefore not to be trusted. At the same time I harbored this superstitious belief that if I looked at the message without being properly initiated first, something very bad would happen.
I needed to see it with the Eyes of Spirit.
Unable to let the scrolls out of my sight, I managed to take the prescribed shower by leaving the stall door open just enough to provide a clear view of them resting on the counter beside the sink. Facing them, I stood beneath the spray, sudsing and rinsing my hair and body, and then standing still and quieting my mind. I tipped my head back and imagined the warm water infused with spiritual light. And in a few seconds it actually gleamed gold and white, like sparklers on the Fourth of July, showering me in purity. It wasn’t visualization. Or imagination. It was real.
I’m really a witch. I’m a real live spell-casting, magic-making witch!
Nothing bad could survive such a bath, I was sure of that much. And yet, even with my entire being drenched in the giddy wonder of a kid at Disney World, I never once closed my eyes. I kept them on that scroll the whole time.
When I emerged, I didn’t dry off with a towel. I let the water evaporate naturally from my skin as I ran a comb through my hair, fluffed it with my fingers and put on a stretchy white headband to give it a bit of life. No mousse. No gel. My face, like my hair, was au naturel. I donned the huge white cotton pashmina Rayne had left in my room, wrapping it around my body, beneath my arms, then around again, knotting the ends of the fabric over one shoulder.
My scrolls cradled in my arms, I went barefoot down the stairs.
Tomas was waiting there, his gaze sliding from my head to my feet and back again, stopping at my eyes. “You look beautiful.”
I smiled and lowered my head in a completely uncharacteristic moment of shyness. “Thank you.” I wondered briefly where the old goat was and decided I didn’t care.
“I’ll be here when you’ve finished.”
“All right.”
“Rayne said to send you right out. She’s in the apple grove to the left of the deck, near the cliff.”
I nodded, my eyes shifting away from his toward the door. This was important to me, I realized. I had butterflies in my stomach and was more intent on where I was going than on the man standing with me just then. And that was saying something. I was in love with him, after all.
He leaned down, kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Blessed be, Indy.”
My lips parted as my throat suddenly tightened. For him to whisper that beautiful Pagan greeting to me on this night, of all nights…well, it took my breath away and made my eyes go damp. “Don’t go making me cry before I even get started.”
“No makeup to run. Cry if you want to.”
I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Tomas.”
“For dragging you into a war, risking your life…”
“For all of it.” I put my hands on his cheeks. “Because it led me to you. And to this, and it turns out…this means something to me. More than I knew when I left it behind.”
“You never left it behind. Not really.”
“No, I guess I didn’t. And you’re not leaving your beliefs behind, either, Tomas. Remember that. God loves you, no matter what.”
He reached up and squeezed my hands, then let them go, but I thought he was tearing up a little. “Go on now. Lady Rayne awaits.”
Nodding, I turned, not so much as sparing a glance for the glaring old priest as I finally spotted him looking on from the big desk, where he sat clicking computer keys. I felt him, though, felt his hatred and disapproval and judgment. I felt all of it. And then I took a deep breath and blew it all away. No negativity. Not tonight.
I left through the sliding doors, walked across the deck and headed down the steps to the lawn. As I moved toward the small grove of apple trees, I saw the soft glow of candles lighting my way. Rayne had put votives in glass jars she must have rescued from her brother’s recycling bin and made a path for me to follow. It was dark outside, except for those candles. The moon had not yet risen. But though dark, the night was far from quiet. The chill autumn breeze hummed through the trees in countless harmonies, raising goose bumps on my arms with its cold breath. Far below, the slapping of water on rock joined in the chorus. Bullfrogs provided the bass line, and every now and then a night bird launched into a high-pitched diva-riff. I loved the cold tickle of the still-green grass and the occasional crunch of dry leaves beneath my feet. Every one of those crunches released a whiff of autumn’s unique aroma, a smell like no other.
The line of candles ended right between two gnarled old apple trees whose low, twisted limbs formed an arch. Rayne stood directly beneath them, waiting for me, heavy red apples hanging over her head. Her face was dark, her dagger pointed directly at my chest.
“Better you should rush upon this blade than enter this circle with fear in your heart,” she said to me. “Tell me, then, how do you enter?”
I panicked for a second, realizing I didn’t know what I was supposed to say and racking my brain to recall.
“Do you enter with fear?” she asked me softly, brows lifting.
“I feel no fear.”
“What do you feel?” she asked.
I closed my eyes and knew I trusted her, and I reco
gnized the feeling spinning wildly in my heart. Love. And then I knew the proper response, a familiar phrase among students of the Craft. “Perfect love and perfect trust.”
She smiled and lowered her dagger, welcoming me with a kiss to both cheeks, then stepping aside to let me walk beneath the arching limbs of the trees. As soon as I did, she drew a line in the air with her blade aimed at the ground, closing the invisible energy door she had opened to let me enter the magic circle.
More candles in jars demarcated the four quarters of the sacred ring, casting a soft yellow glow that made the magical sphere even more real to me.
From there on, the rites were long and involved, and I knew Rayne had combined the elements of the Initiation to the First Degree with the elevation ceremonies to the Second and Third Degrees of traditional Wicca. I was led around the circle, introduced to the powers and energies of the four directions. I was marched along a spiral path into the symbolic Underworld, where I faced and spoke to Death Herself. I was laid out on the ground, my body serving as the original sacred altar. I was censed with smoke and asperged with holy water. I was asked to repeat a solemn oath of service. I was given the Eyes of Spirit, as Rayne stared unblinkingly into my eyes and I into hers, until they seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and I felt myself falling into them. It felt so real. I was spiraling, falling, but not like in my dreams. There was no fear, no pain waiting at the bottom. No death.
There’s no such thing as death.
Moments later, when Rayne laid her hands against my chest to transfer the power into me as it had been transferred into her from her teachers—as it had been transferred into them by theirs, and on and on back as far as memory could go—it was like an explosion in my chest, in my head, in my heart. I was shaking all over when it was done.
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