Mark of the Witch (21 page)

And suddenly a feeling of déjà vu washed over me, a feeling so
intense that I got dizzy and thought I might throw up.

Oh. My. Goddess. It’s him. It’s really
him. He’s the one I saw in all those visions, those dreams. He truly is my
soul mate.

There was no longer any doubt in my mind. Or in my heart.

* * *

A few hours and a dozen toasted marshmallows later, the
old priest returned and the beautiful enchanted afternoon came to an end, like a
dark curtain falling at the end of a play. He descended, and bam. Done. No more
lightness or music or laughing.

The guy was like a living, breathing pall.

It was time to head out to meet Professor Jon Yates anyway,
though, so our fun had to end either way. We put out the fire, and Tomas brought
his guitar inside, leaning it carefully in a corner of the living room.

I didn’t miss the disapproving look Father Dom sent him. And I
noticed that Tomas didn’t back down from it, just returned the old man’s cranky
gaze with a smile and asked how the memorial service had gone.

Dom huffed. “Sad, of course.”

“I’m sure. Who spoke?”

Father Dom’s eyes danced away from Tomas’s. “Several clerics of
different bents. Few with any true understanding of life and death and what it
all means, of course, and none who knew what truly happened.” He shrugged. “But
I can tell you more on the way. We don’t want to be late.”

Tomas took his keys off the rack near the door, and we all went
out. I was heading for the front passenger door of his old, once-white Volvo
when the holier-than-thou-king managed to speed-walk past me. Odd how old and
frail he could seem when it suited him. Shuffling along slowly, fighting to
catch his breath, maybe pausing to lean over, one hand braced on his knee, the
other up in the air, waving in a “give me a minute” gesture. But only until
there was a reason to move. Or until he
thought
there was a reason, anyway. He was in the front passenger seat beside Tomas
before I could even blink.

Rayne saw it. I knew because she put a hand on my arm and, when
I looked at her, rolled her eyes. “Guess the
Padre
called shotgun,” she whispered.

“I’m surprised he’s not on your brother’s lap,” I returned,
catty and not one bit ashamed of it. I opened the rear door and got in, sliding
all the way over, so I was right behind Tomas. Rayne got in beside me and closed
the door.

Tomas looked into the rearview mirror and met my eyes. I stared
into his, silent, willing him to stop listening to Father Dom and start thinking
for himself. He must have felt it. He had to feel it. I willed him to feel it. I
willed him to turn away from Father Dom and toward me instead.

Rayne said, “Tomas, would you mind turning on the radio? My
addiction to modern media is causing me serious withdrawal up here.”

I frowned at Rayne’s request, knowing she was up to something
but not sure what. Sure enough, as soon as the music came on and Tomas had found
a station playing Bob Dylan, she spoke to me, keeping her voice low and soft. “I
saw that” was all she said.

I lifted my brows in a show of innocence.

“We do not use manipulative magic, Indy. You know better.”

I tilted my head to one side. “I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. On my brother. And you have to know I’m not
gonna put up with that.”

I sighed, lowering my eyes. Her hand closed over mine.
“Besides, you don’t need to. The power of love, remember? He’s going to come
around on his own.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. He’s already there, he just doesn’t know it yet.
His brain is all mixed up with demons and demon fighting, rite and rote and
doctrine and vows, and the guilt trips being heaped on his head by the old goat
up there.”

Father Dom’s head came up from his in-depth study of the
notebook computer he’d brought along. Images of the symbols cut into my flesh
earlier filled the screen. It made me shiver to have Dom looking at my skin. He
glanced back at us as if he’d sensed he was the topic of our discussion.

We both smiled, and I wondered if mine was as phony as
Rayne’s.

Father Dom returned his attention to the computer.

After a moment or two Rayne looked at me again. “Aside from all
that, I’m glad to see you embracing your witchy side again. Welcome back to the
Craft of the Wise, Sister.”

I lowered my head and realized that I had indeed begun
believing again. With all I’d seen and experienced lately, I couldn’t very well
continue claiming not to believe in magic. In gods and goddesses. In demons and
spells and curses. Not when they were all around me.

“How did you know?”

She looked at me as if I’d asked how she knew that day followed
night.

“You need to be initiated,” she whispered. “It’ll connect you
spiritually with every witch who ever lived, the long line of those wise women
who came before you. Will you let me do the honors?”

I met her eyes, humbled to my core. A year and a day of study
was normally put in before initiation. Testing, practice and lessons, but above
all experience, were required. I felt like a fraud. “I haven’t earned it.”

“You’re ready, Indy. In fact, you’re ready for all three levels
of initiation. Though performing them all at once might be too much to
take—especially in your current physical condition. So one at a time. To connect
you. To empower you.”

I didn’t feel worthy, and yet, here was an experienced High
Priestess of the Craft, telling me I was. Offering to make me an official witch.
A priestess of the Goddess.

I bowed my head and nodded my acceptance. “I’d be honored,
Rayne. Thank you.” Then I whispered, “When?”

“Tonight,” she whispered.

Tonight! My stomach knotted in nervousness. Initiation was a
Very Big Deal, even to a solitary witch like me. Former solitary witch, I added
mentally.

Already we were pulling onto the Cornell University campus,
making our way amid the beautiful buildings and perfectly groomed grounds toward
McGraw Hall, which housed the Archaeology and Anthropology Departments. And
every parking space we passed was filled.

Rayne elbowed me. “Go on, get us a spot. Long unused muscles
get weak. They need exercise.”

I smiled, as so much of what I’d learned came rushing back to
me. I opened my chakras and closed my eyes, and felt the power coursing through
me, sending shivers of energy up and down my spine. “By my will and Lady’s
grace, I now create a parking space,” I whispered. Then I snapped my
fingers.

“There’s one,” Father Dom said, pointing.

I opened my eyes and saw a little VW Beetle—original, not
new—backing out of a spot directly ahead of us.

“So mote it be,” Rayne whispered with a secret smile.

“What’s that?” Dom asked, turning the radio volume down.

“I said Amen,” Rayne replied. It wasn’t even a lie.

I had to keep my head down, because I was feeling something
that would have shown in my eyes. I was feeling the surge of my own power, the
return of something I had lost, something I had missed more than I had even
realized. Only now that I was connecting to that higher source again did I
understand the emptiness its absence had left in my soul. God, why had I stopped
believing in magic?

But I knew why. It was because so much of my work, my studies,
my practice, had been in the service of one goal. I wanted to find my soul mate.
The man who would love me forever. And it had failed. No matter how much I cast
or conjured, how much I meditated and visualized and wished for him, he had not
come.

And so I had decided that magic didn’t work. That it was all
just make-believe. And I had been very glad I’d resisted the urge to join a
coven and commit myself to the Craft, because it would have been harder to walk
away had I taken the solemn vows of an Initiated Witch.

As hard, I thought, as it was going to be for Tomas to walk
away from the vows he had taken. But he would. I knew he would, because the
pattern that had been invisible to me before seemed so clear now. I didn’t
choose witchcraft in this lifetime. I chose it long, long ago. And him. I chose
him, as well. Both of those choices were still with me today. It was my witchy
spirit that had led me back to him. And the so-called demon’s machinations, for
better or worse, had brought us back together.

And his calling, too, I thought slowly. Tomas’s vows and his
mission had also been essential elements in reuniting the two of us.

He needed to see that, too. He was going to have to realize
that we were meant to be.

We all climbed out of the car and started up the sidewalk
toward the building where Jon was waiting. But as we moved forward, the oddest
feeling began creeping up my spine. As if someone was watching us. I glanced
over my shoulder, but there was no one. Students coming and going, most with
white earbuds dangling. And then I spotted the squirrel. He sat on a low limb of
a nearby tree, so motionless he appeared to be stuffed, and his eyes stared
unblinkingly at me.

I reached up to touch Tomas’s shoulder, drawing his attention.
He’d been walking just ahead of me—Dom, as always, at his side—but he stopped
and looked where I indicated.

“Over there, too,” Rayne said, nodding in another
direction.

Canada geese, a whole flock of them, were marching toward us in
single file, all of them staring at us as they drew closer.

A growl drew my head around, and I saw three dogs—two pugs and
a poodle—straining their leads to watch us, growling, their eyes like marbles,
their little bodies quivering as their owners tugged and commanded them to come
along.

And then, remarkably, Tomas slid an arm around my waist and
pulled me up beside him. “They’re only watching. They won’t attack.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked softly. As I looked around, I
wasn’t entirely convinced that some of the passers-by were not also acting as
the demon’s eyes. A couple of them seemed to be in possession of the same
vacant-eyed stare as the animals.

“Because he wants us to find the incantation that will enable
you to call forth the amulet. He needs you to get it so you can return it to
him. Without it, he can’t hope to succeed. He won’t try to stop us from getting
it.”

“He won’t try to stop me,” I reminded him. “But what about you,
Tomas? You intend to destroy the thing once I get it. The demon—or whatever he
is—has every reason to want to take you out.”

He seemed to get stuck in my eyes. “Destroying the amulet is
the only way we can prevent this from ever happening again. If we succeed, Indy,
we end this forever. No one will ever have to fight this battle again. And
you’ll finally be free to move on when the time comes, either into the afterlife
or another incarnation if that’s what you believe in, without all this baggage
from the past holding you like an anchor.”

I swallowed hard, seeing again the pain-filled eyes on the
other side of the Portal. Eyes that had seemed to be begging for my help. It
would be like kicking a puppy to squelch the hope in those eyes. They couldn’t
have seemed less demonic to me.

At the same time, I saw the genuine caring in Tomas’s eyes and
knew he was not lying. He honestly thought destroying the amulet would be the
best thing for me, as well as for mankind.

I swallowed my fears and tugged myself away from Tomas’s side.
“Wait here,” I said, and I walked off the sidewalk into the grass, toward one of
the snarling pugs. It stared at me, teeth bared as I approached.

The owner, an impossibly thin waif with flat-ironed blond hair
to her waist, said, “I swear, I’ve never seen him act this way. He’s usually so
friendly, I—”

I flicked my hand up, palm out, in the universal sign for
Stop,
and she went instantly silent. Then I crouched
near the dog and stared into his eyes, and I whispered to him.

“Are you seeing me? Are you seeing me through this innocent
creature’s eyes? Hearing me through its ears? Then listen up. I haven’t decided
yet if I’m going to help you or not. But I promise you, if you hurt Tomas, I
will destroy the amulet myself. Do not put me to the test, Demon—or whatever you
are. I love that man. I’ll kill you with my bare hands before I’ll let anything
happen to him. Are you hearing me?
Are
you?”

The dog blinked, whimpered and sat. His tongue came out as he
started panting happily, and his little head tipped from one side to the other
as if he were puzzled, trying to decipher words he’d never heard before.

Smiling in relief, I scratched his head, and he gave me a
completely nondemonic doggy smile. Then I rose and walked away as the skinny
girl scooped up her pug and hurried in the other direction.

Father Dom was saying something to Tomas, leaning close and
speaking behind his hand. I had no doubt he was telling him how I was obviously
in league with the Demon and must not be trusted.

Frankly, I wasn’t so sure he was wrong. The Demon seemed to
hear me and obey me. I was a witch who could command a demon. I was a walking
stereotype of the worst possible sort.

And yet I didn’t feel as much fear of this so-called demon as I
had before. It was a priest who’d ordered my execution all those centuries ago,
after all. Not a demon. A priest who’d stood behind me at the top of the cliff,
his hands on the bare skin of my back as he prepared to push me over. A
priest.

My priest.

The man I loved.

A siren’s wail dragged my attention away from my thoughts as a
police car came to a screaming halt right in front of the building we’d been
planning to enter—the building where Jon Yates’s office was.

All four of us ran toward the door as the officers emerged from
the car. A weeping woman came running down the steps toward them. She gripped
the first cop by his upper arm. “He’s still there. God, he’s still there. I
wanted to cut him down, but I—”