Mark of the Witch (28 page)

I pressed my hands to his chest. “Not yet, Tomas. Not until
you’ve been released from your vows. I don’t want you to—”

“I’m not a priest anymore. It’s official.”

“You mean we can—”

“Yes.” He kissed me again, and this time I let the flames that
had been licking at the tinder of my soul take hold. And they blazed
hot.
We kissed, and kissed, and tugged and pulled at
each other’s clothes as we did. He unbuttoned my shirt.

Everyone else was in bed. The den was quiet, private, its door
closed tight. He pushed my pajama top from my shoulders, and his eyes roamed
lower, gleamed with pure appreciation, and then he was kissing, caressing, my
breasts. His hands moved down my back, and then he turned me and his lips
followed their path.

But he stopped at the base of my spine. “The tattoo is
back.”

“I know. It’s been there ever since my initiations. I don’t
think it will fade away again.”

He pressed his lips to it, then turned me around again and
kissed his way up the front of me. I arched off the sofa so he could push down
the pajama bottoms. As soon as I was out of them, he rearranged us, pulling me
down on top of him.

I tugged his shirt up, impatient, until he stripped it over his
head and gave me full access to his magnificent chest. He was so perfect, broad
and strong, a few dark hairs, not too many. Just enough to entangle my fingers
as I stroked and touched and kissed his chest the way he had kissed mine.

I lost myself in the past. We were in a nest of pillows, and
sheer curtains surrounded us. My hair was dark and his was long, and our bodies,
our limbs, were nude and entwined. I heard soft whispers, sighs of pleasure,
words of love.

And then I was back in the here and now. His pants were gone. I
didn’t remember taking them off. He was bare and hard and warm, and nudging
inside me. I closed my eyes and helped, and when he slid into me there was this
moment of such intense, exquisite relief....

Finally. By the gods, it’s been so
long.

And I knew it was true. This was old. This was real. We
belonged together. And we had waited too damned long to find each other
again.

I don’t know if he felt what I did. But he’d gone still, too,
in that same moment. And his eyes seemed as stricken as mine must have been.

But then we began to move again in a rhythm as old as time, in
a love almost as old, carrying each other to the closest place to paradise this
side of heaven.

18

T
omas felt like a new man in the morning.
He woke smiling, despite the gloom outside. Rain was pounding down; it had been
all night. Indy’s beautiful face was completely relaxed and mostly in shadow.
Just for a moment he looked at her lying across his body, her head on his chest,
one small, perfect hand resting over his heart.

God, she was beautiful.

He felt blessed and yet vaguely guilty. Probably to be
expected, he thought. He’d taken a vow of celibacy, and even though it had
apparently never been “official,” he didn’t think God cared much about record
keeping. One did not overcome years of subtle indoctrination with one night in
the arms of an angel. No matter how sure or right it felt.

Sighing, he slid quietly out from under the brown faux-fur
throw they’d pulled off the back of the sofa to cover them during the night,
then straightened it back over her beautiful body. He pulled on his clothes from
the day before, hesitating at the black shirt with its white collar insert. He
couldn’t wear it anymore, he realized. He’d found his true calling, and it was
not the priesthood.

And apparently never had been.

He set the shirt aside, and wearing only a pair of well-worn
jeans, he picked up the plate of leftover cookies and the half-empty milk
glasses, turning toward the door to carry everything to the kitchen.

As he stepped out of the room he spotted Father Dom standing
near the front door, a suitcase on the floor beside him. Dom saw him, and the
look on his face told Tomas that he knew exactly what had happened last night.
Whether he’d been spying or had accidentally seen or heard them, he didn’t know.
But the knowledge was written all over his mentor’s face. And Tomas supposed his
current shirtless appearance confirmed it. Dom might even have caught a glimpse
of Indy as the door had swung closed behind him.

He lifted his chin, met Dom’s eyes and refused to feel sorry or
to apologize, knowing he was in the right. “I learned some things last night,
Dom.”

“No doubt,” Father Dom said with disgust.

Tomas felt his jaw twitch in anger. “About the past—about all
of this. We’ve been fighting on the wrong side.”

“The Devil truly is the great deceiver. To have fooled even
you. But rarely have I seen him appear in quite so tempting a guise as he has
this time.” He shrugged. “Then again, greater men have fallen. Greater priests,
even.”

“I’m not a priest. And apparently I never was. At least,
there’s no record of my ordination. Can you tell me why that is, Dom?”

Dom glowered at him. “Need I quote your sister to you?
Ordination is given by God, not by man.” He threw his hands in the air. “They
don’t have paperwork on me, either. Booted me out of the Church ages ago.”

Tomas gaped in shock. So much made sense now.

“Do I let that stop me from doing God’s work? Of course I
don’t.”

It was worse than he’d thought. Dom was a fraud? Had he even
fooled the sisters at St. Brigit’s? He must have been a real priest at some
point.

“How long ago were you—”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.” Dom gripped the doorknob.

Tomas wanted answers. “Dom, you need to listen to me.” Then he
looked past him at the pouring rain and was hit by another realization. “And you
may as well stay. You know as well as I do that with all that rain last night,
the bridge is probably washed out.”

“No, Tomas. I do not need to listen to you. You’ve made up your
mind. You’ll free the Demon, and he will destroy the world of man. I will awaken
to the sound of trumpets in the house of the Lord. And you will awaken to
eternal hellfire.
I
have no regrets. I doubt you
will be able to say the same.”

Tomas watched as Dom turned and reached for the doorknob,
apparently choosing to ignore the warning about the bridge. But Tomas didn’t
need to see it to know it was under water. He’d been petitioning the highway
department to raise it for years, but since his was the only place up here, it
was way down on their list of priorities.

“Dom, you’re not going to be able to leave today,” he said
again.

His old friend looked at him as if hearing him for the first
time. And then a bloodcurdling, positively inhuman scream came from the second
floor.

Tomas felt his blood go cold.

Rayne.

He lunged into a run, taking the stairs two at a time. He sped
along the hallway and slammed through her bedroom door. And then he froze as he
caught sight of her, lying there in the bed with foamy spittle around her nose
and mouth. She was kicking, her arms thrashing, her body twisting, as guttural
sounds emerged from her throat.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Images of the little
girl at the exorcism flooded his mind.

Shaking himself free of his momentary paralysis, he moved to
Rayne’s side, clasping her shoulders and shaking her gently. “Wake up, honey.
Come on now, wake up and talk to me.”

Her eyes popped open, nearly bulging, bloodshot. He felt a
whisper of relief. And then she shrieked in his face, and her breath was so
fetid it almost knocked him over as her back arched off the bed. Suddenly her
eyes rolled back and her body went completely lax. At least she’d stopped
thrashing.

“My God,” he whispered, staring down at his now unconscious
sister in shock. “My God, what the hell is this?”

“You know what it is, Tomas. We’ve both seen it before.”

He turned slowly. Father Dom was standing in the doorway, and
beyond him, shaking like a leaf, wrapped up in the sofa throw, stood Indira, her
eyes wide and glued to Rayne.

“You betrayed God,” Dom decreed, pointing a gnarled but steady
finger at him. “You broke your vows in the arms of a demon’s whore.”

“Hey, watch it, pal, I’m standing right here!” Indy
snapped.

Father Dom ignored her and kept speaking to Tomas. “And so the
Lord has withdrawn his protection. Now your sister is possessed by the very
demon you were sent here to destroy.”

“Bull. Shit.” Indy shouldered her way into the room between Dom
and the door frame. “That’s not what this is, and you know it. Don’t listen to
him, Tomas.”

He couldn’t look at Indira. Not now, not knowing what he had to
do. His eyes were drawn back to his sister in the bed. He had to protect her,
and it if meant hurting Indy, well, she was just going to have to forgive him
when it was all over. Or not. Either way, it couldn’t be helped. There was no
other way out of this.

“Tomas?” she whispered.

But he couldn’t look at her.

“Tomas, we were going to return a piece of Demetrius’s soul to
him. Why would he attack your sister when we were going to help him?”

“Because he could,” Father Dom said. “Young lady, I’m beginning
to believe you might not be aware of just how deceived you are. But I have
expelled demons before. Many, many times. Tomas was with me not long ago when I
exorcised a demon from a young girl. We know a possession when we see one. And
we know the devil and his workings. He only seeks to harm, to destroy. Even his
own servants are not safe. Until you seduced Tomas away from his true calling,
God provided him with protection, and that protection extended to his beloved
sister, despite her fallen ways. But as soon as he broke his vows, that
protection was removed. As witches, you court the Devil every day of your lives.
I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

Tomas looked at Indy. He couldn’t help himself. She looked
right back at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, her expression asking him if he
was truly naive enough to buy into Dom’s delusions. He had to look away, back to
his sister, unconscious and helpless.

“There’s only one way to save her, Tomas.”

He turned to look at Father Dom. If Dom had reason to save her,
she would be all right.

“We must perform an exorcism, son. Today. Now.”

“Tomas, don’t be an idiot!” Indy shouted. “She needs a
hospital, not a priest! You can’t possibly—”

“Don’t.” Tomas held up a hand, stopping her words midstream.
“Indy, you don’t have a clue what this is about. I do. Dom’s right, I have seen
it before. Whatever else he is, he’s an experienced exorcist. This is for real.”
Thunder clapped as if to punctuate his words.

“Then why aren’t you looking me in the eye?” she asked him.

So he faced her and forced out the words. “He’s right about
this.”

“Tomas—”

“Stay out of this, Indy!” he barked, and then he looked at Dom
again as lightning flashed across the old man’s face. “Will you help me, old
friend? Help me save my sister?”

Dom’s lips thinned, and then he spoke. “Have you seen the error
of your ways, Tomas? Have you seen what happens when you let anything come
before your faith?”

“I have. I swear, I have.”

Dom nodded slowly. “Then I’ll try to save her. But remember,
all I can do is
try.
”

* * *

“This is fucking ridiculous.” I turned and headed back
downstairs. I wasn’t about to let Rayne die from whatever the hell had suddenly
taken her over while the two men played exorcist. I was going to call 9-1-1 for
an ambulance. And while I was at it, I thought, I’d tell them to send some cops
along with it, because those two white-collar criminals were not going to let
Rayne go easily.

They were both freaking nuts.

And it hurt. God, it hurt so bad that after the night we’d
shared Tomas had turned on me like this. I mean, okay, Rayne was his sister and
she was in bad shape, and he loved her and was obviously afraid for her. But
still…

Hell, I love her, too. You don’t see me
buying into some madman’s hallucinations over it. She needs real help. What
the hell is the matter with Tomas?

The rain was pounding down outside. I shivered, crossed the
little kitchen and reached for the cordless phone, only to find there was no
dial tone whatsoever. Nothing but static.
“Dammit.”
I slammed the thing back into the base and noted that the power was still
on.

Has to be the phone lines, then. Probably
this damned storm.

And if the phones were down, so was the Net.

I headed back upstairs, undaunted, determined to get help for
my friend. I couldn’t resist going past my own room to take a quick glimpse at
the two maniac priests in Rayne’s room. They’d gathered up some of their magical
tools by then. Oh, they would rather be tortured than call them that, but that’s
what they were. They had their sacred book, their crucifix, their holy water,
their vestments. They didn’t seem to be hurting Rayne any. Just praying over her
and sprinkling her with the holy water every now and then. She was still
unconscious. As I peered in at them, Tomas looked back at me, his eyes intense.
And maybe a little angry.

Just leave it alone,
they seemed to
be saying.

Just go piss up a rope,
I glared
back at him.

I was hurt, but damned if I’d let him see that, so I broke eye
contact and strode away, ducking into my own room and digging through my purse
for my cell phone. Found it, score. Battery good. Signal?

Hell. There were no bars on its face, just the message that it
was searching, followed by the dire notification No Service.

I flung the phone onto the bed, then looked toward the window,
desperate now, certain that Rayne needed medical help and that she needed it
soon. And it was up to me to get it for her. Entirely up to me.

Rivulets of rainwater streamed over the glass, while gusting
wind sent new bursts of droplets pounding down. I swallowed hard, moving closer,
staring out into the storm.
I’m just gonna have to go find
help then—or a phone or a signal, whichever comes first.

Nodding in affirmation, I yanked warmer clothes from the
dresser. A pair of jeans, a hoodie, heavy and warm. I put on thick socks and
hiking boots, and then slipped from my room to the stairs, not taking the time
to look in on Rayne again. The sooner I got my beautiful sister-witch out of
here, the better. Those two working over her could not be good for her. Not in
any way. Waving a crucifix over a witch, ordering the devil out of her—no, that
was just wrong on too many levels.

I tried to walk quietly down the stairs, despite the weight of
the boots, and managed not to disturb the monotone muttering of the priests in
the other guest room. I checked the little bing-bong device that was supposed to
signal if a door or my bedroom window were opened during the night.

It won’t be turned on. Tomas set that up
to protect me, so I wouldn’t sleepwalk out the door and off the cliff. Only
at night, he said. But I was with him last night, so he wouldn’t have
bothered to—

The green light was glowing on the control box. It was turned
on. I wondered who’d done that?

I examined the thing to decide my best move and found that it
had a volume control on the side. I twisted it all the way down, hoping they
would be too busy with their ritual to hear anything else, then checked that the
green light was still on. Good. If I turned it off, they might notice.

Then I went to the closet nearest the front door, located an
oversize yellow rain slicker and put it on. I took the keys from the key rack
and, as silently as I could, opened the door, ducked outside and closed it
softly behind me.

Cold rain smacked me in the face, driven by merciless gusts.
Some of it even felt icy, as if it were beginning to freeze into sleet. So much
for our warmer than normal fall. I tugged the slicker’s hood around my face,
holding it in place with one hand, and bent forward to push my way through the
wind to Tomas’s old Volvo.

The storm was fierce, howling wind, deafening thunder. It
didn’t let up. Probably would, soon, but I wasn’t going to wait. My only regret
was that I hadn’t stolen another smoke for the drive down off this cursed
mountain.