Mark of the Witch (19 page)

I rolled onto my back with a heavy sigh, faced Rayne, and tried
to decide if her eyes were accusing or merely shocked.

“Good morning to you, too. I’m feeling terrible, thanks for
asking.”

She blinked, pursed her lips, gave a nod. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know how many more of these episodes I can take, is
how bad it is.” I inhaled deeply and sat up in the bed, leaning forward over my
legs and pressing both hands to my spinning head.

“I’m sorry. You need anything?”

“Coffee. Food. Ibuprofen, but only if there’s nothing stronger
on hand.”

She moved, but I wasn’t looking. And then I smelled something
heavenly that made me raise my head and blink blearily into the mug she was
holding under my nose.

I closed my hands around the mug, absorbing its warmth,
bringing it to my lips with all the dramatic gratitude of a man who’d just
crossed the desert tasting his first sip of water.

And then I sipped again. And then once more. And then I lifted
my head and opened my eyes, finally feeling able to face the morning.

There was a plate with a silver lid sitting behind the alarm
clock on my nightstand. She put the plate on my lap.

“The food might need a warm-up.”

“Is this your brother’s French toast?” I asked. Then I took off
the lid and smiled. It was.

“He wanted to bring it up himself, but Dom is reading the
absolute worst into his every move, and besides, I wanted to see you first. To
talk about…what happened.”

I blinked at her in sheer amazement, and even though the French
toast, which had a scoop of scrambled eggs and two sausage links flanking it,
was calling to me, I managed to resist diving into it for one more second. “Do
you know that you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had?”

Try the only friend I’ve ever
had.

“Just probably?” she asked, making a big phony wounded face at
me. “Did I mention I brought ibuprofen, too?” She picked up the plastic bottle
and shook it like a rattle. “Extra-strength.”

I laughed softly, and she did, too. Damn, it felt good. I held
out my hand, and she shook two tablets into my palm. I washed them down with the
coffee, then set the mug aside and went for my fork.

I wolfed down three bites—these episodes not only drained me of
energy and made me feel sick as a hangover, they made me ravenous—and then I
managed to take a long enough pause to say what I knew needed saying.

“I know how bad that must’ve looked. That kiss. God, I know. I
tried to tell you what I’ve been feeling…or what my past self has been feeling
or—but it doesn’t matter. It was wrong. He’s a priest, and he’s your brother,
and you’re my friend. I’m sorry, Rayne.”

She got up from her chair and paced to the window. Staring
outside, she stood deep in silent thought for a long moment, giving me time to
devour more of my luscious breakfast. Then she finally turned back toward me and
shook her head.

“I don’t know if you should be sorry. I really don’t think
it’s…wrong. You know? But…if this is what’s been going on with you two, you
should at least have told me.”

“There was nothing to tell, Rayne. Nothing’s really…happened
until now.”

Okay, that’s not quite the truth. But I’m
not giving her a full account of every kiss, touch and smoldering glance. I
mean, really, some things are just too personal, even for a best friend,
high priestess and confidante. Even for the guy-in-question’s sister. No,
make that
especially
for the guy-in-question’s
sister.

I kept eating until I had cleaned the plate, then set it on the
nightstand and slid up until I could rest my back against the headboard. “It was
just a kiss.”

“He was sucking your face off, Indy. That was not
just
an anything. That was…that was freaking hot.”

I had to look away, because my face was getting warm and, I
figured, pink, too. I sipped the coffee, putting all my focus on that. “Did
Father Dom see?”

“Damned if I know. The guy gives me the creeps, I’ll tell you
that much.”

An icy chill shot briefly up my spine at her words, but I
couldn’t have said why. “I don’t like him much, either. And for what it’s worth,
I think it’s mutual.”

“He’s a zealot,” she said. “He’d probably vote to reinstate
burning at the stake for the likes of us, given the option.” She rubbed her arms
as if she, too, felt the chill. “If you’re the reincarnation of a girl who was
executed and my brother is the reincarnation of her lover, then is it possible
Father Dom is the reincarnation of the high priest you hate so much in all those
dreams?”

“That would be the obvious conclusion, wouldn’t it?” I could
look at her again now that she’d changed the subject. “It was certainly my first
thought. I mean, once I started believing that any of this could be real. That
any of us were really connected to those past lives playing out in my dreams.
But no. I’ve thought about this a lot, and he’s not. There’s nothing about him
that reminds me of that bastard Sindar.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, sipped, nodded again for emphasis. “After all, not
everyone I know was involved in that alleged past lifetime. I mean, you for
example. You weren’t there.”

She looked at the floor. “I guess you have a point. I had to
ask.”

“I’m glad you did.” I smiled at her a little sheepishly. “It
changed the subject.”

Her head came up again, eyes serious and probing. “Not for
long. I want to know what’s going on between you and my brother, Indy.”

I lowered my head, then raised it again, because it would be
more believable if I looked her squarely in the eyes while I lied to her. “I
don’t…I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”

She lifted her hands, palms up. “Uh-uh! Tell me how you feel
about him, for crying out loud. Tell me what he’s saying about all this. Tell me
how far it’s gone. Tell me how far it’s going to go.”

“That would take a psychic—or a witch. You tell me.”

“You’re a witch, too, Indy. A powerful one, and I think we’re
way past the stage where you can keep denying it and expect anyone to believe
you. Hell,
you
don’t even believe you at this
point.”

I lowered my eyes, unable to hold her gaze when she said
something I knew was absolutely true and wished was not.

“Have you slept with him?”

Without looking up I said, “Of course not!”

“Of course not
what?
” she
asked.

Right, right, right. Look her in the eyes. “Of course I haven’t
slept with him.”

She moved closer to the bed, sat down on the edge. “I didn’t
ask that question out loud, Indy.”

I frowned hard. “What do you mean? I heard you—”

“I only thought it.”

“No way. No fucking way. Rayne, stop messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you. I thought it, but I didn’t say it.”
She shook her head slowly. “But you heard me. You answered me. You’re a witch.
You found the Portal. You saw the Demon. And I think, deep down, you know more
than you’re letting yourself acknowledge.”

Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Tomas and I—we were lovers in that
other lifetime. And God knows how many in between. It was forbidden then,
too.”

“And you wound up dead,” Rayne said softly. “Maybe the Universe
is going to keep throwing you together until you figure out that love is more
important than anything else and treat it that way. And maybe you’re both going
to keep suffering until you finally learn it.”

My throat was dry, my skin clammy. “I don’t know if what I’m
feeling now is real or just leftover emotion from thirty-five hundred years
ago.”

“If you feel it, it’s real. Time is an illusion. Everything is
happening now. If you’ve studied the Craft at all—and I know you have, Indy—then
you know that.”

I swung around sideways, so I was sitting right beside her. “It
feels real. It feels like the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt.”

“A love that lasts lifetimes? Are you kidding me? That is the
most powerful thing you’ve ever felt, dummy.”

I smiled a little at her loving insult. “I don’t know what to
do. I mean, how can I ask him to give up his…calling? To break his vows?”

“Will you listen to yourself and think a little bit?” She
reached across to me and pushed my bangs out of my eyes. I wondered if my hair
was standing up all over and realized she wouldn’t care. “Do you have any idea
how many impossible things had to fall into place for the two of you to find
each other? Among all the billions of people living on this planet right now?
For him to find you again, after more than three thousand years—the chances must
be like finding a single grain of sand in the desert. And for you to live in the
same city as his own sister…for you to be born in the same century as him…and
for you to remember. Do you really think our Goddess or his God or both of them,
arranged all that and then expected him not to love you again? It wouldn’t make
any sense to believe that, Indy. Would it?”

I lowered my head, tears brimming in my eyes. “He’s obsessed
with this demon thing.”

“Then get the damned demon thing over with and out of the way.
Because I’m more and more convinced it’s not about him anyway. It’s about the
two of you. It’s about love, babe. All the rest is just the window dressing the
Goddess threw in to force you two together again.”

I tipped my head sideways. “When did you decide all that?”

“Right now. It just came to me. Things do, sometimes. But it
feels true. I trust it.”

I met her eyes and saw the conviction there. “I wish I could
believe it, too.”

“But you don’t, do you?” Rayne asked.

“I don’t know. I need to think. But I do know that Tomas
doesn’t believe it. Not any of it. And that makes everything else sort of moot,
don’t you think?”

* * *

“You two looked as guilty as teenagers caught in the act
on that trail yesterday,” Father Dom said softly. He’d poured them each a few
fingers of whiskey over ice, after requesting a private conversation in the
den.

Tomas had managed to duck him last night until he could
reasonably take refuge in his bedroom. But this morning there had been no
escaping his friend’s dogged persistence. So he took his small glass, emptied it
in a single gulp and relished the burn. It gave him time to compose an answer.
He was waiting for a call back from Jon. Last night he’d uploaded the newest
photos and emailed them to his friend, who’d replied that he would get to them
first thing this morning. Tomas was willing the damned phone to ring before he
was forced to answer Father Dom.

But it didn’t. And his glass was empty. He set it on the coffee
table and stiffened his shoulders. “I’m a man, Dom. She’s a beautiful woman, and
we have a powerful history. Maybe if I’d been warned about this aspect of it I
would have been more prepared, but it’s hitting me out of left field. I wasn’t
ready for this.” He looked at the empty glass again. It was still full of
perfectly good ice cubes. “Fuck it, I’m having another one.”

Dom gasped at the profanity but bit back whatever condemnation
he’d been about to offer in response, a fact for which Tomas was absurdly
grateful. The old man sipped his own whiskey while Tomas got up, crossed the
room and refilled his glass.

Eventually Dom said, “I know it’s not easy for you, Tomas. And
I respect your honesty about this.”

“It is what it is. No point lying about it.”

“Precisely. It is what it is. Lust. Carnal and human. And
flawed, as all human things are.”

Tomas studied the amber liquid in his tumbler. It reminded him
of Indy’s hair. “It feels deeper than that, though.” Why the hell was he
discussing this with Dom, of all people? Dom, who would never understand. Hell,
he wasn’t sure anyone could understand. How many people loved the same soul over
thousands of years, through dozens of lifetimes?

How many people had their soul mate’s blood on their hands?

“Feels deeper? Like what?” Dom rose from the sofa, glass in
hand. “Like love?” he asked, loading enough sarcasm on the word to make it feel
dirty. “We both know the only real love is love of God, Tomas.” He walked across
the room and clapped Tomas on the shoulder. “Just hold steady, son. Just hold
steady. Keep your mission in mind, your assignment, given to you by God
Almighty, who chose you from among all others to carry this out because He knew
you could handle it. He had faith in you, Tomas. All you have to do is have
faith in Him. Stay strong. Don’t let the charms of a witch sway you from your
sacred duty, nor from your holy vows.”

Tomas nodded, listening, hearing, but not feeling the words as
deeply as he felt his need for Indy. God, he had so many questions. How could he
believe Dom was wrong about all of this when he’d seen the power of the old
priest’s faith with his own eyes. The exorcism—Dom hadn’t faked that.

But that wasn’t the question that spilled from his lips. It was
another. “Why would God choose me for this? Why, when I was so close to her in
the past? It makes no sense. Why not some other priest, one who has no history
with her?”

Dom stared at him, his eyes deep and wise and knowing. “It’s a
test of your faith, my son. Vanquishing this powerful evil, this demon we now
face, requires an act of supreme faith, an act of absolute belief.” He sipped,
contemplated, then nodded as if the answer had come to him. “In truth, Tomas,
you should be on your knees in gratitude that God has so much faith in you. It’s
just like when He commanded Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. That’s
exactly what this is!”

An icy chill raced down Tomas’s spine at those words.

“It’s just that sort of test of faith. And it is a test you
must pass, Tomas. Do not be swayed.” Dom was on a roll now, pacing the room and
getting more and more fired up, sounding like a Pentecostal preacher in a
revival tent. “Faith, my son, is far stronger than any other force in existence.
You must believe—believe with everything in you. With your whole heart, your
whole soul, your whole mind, you must believe in your calling, in your duty. Put
that above all else and you cannot go wrong. You can trust me on this. I know it
to be true. Nothing is more important than faith.”