It was sexy as hell.
I stared at him for a long moment as he washed the blood from the floor. When he felt my eyes on him, he stopped and looked up at me.
Say something, dumb-ass. Don’t just stand here giving him cow-eyes. “Thank you, Tomas. I mean…really. Thanks.”
“De nada.”
* * *
As soon as we took off again, Tomas asked if I was ready to hear the rest of the story, to hear about my mission. I was proud of myself for looking him square in the eye and saying, “No. I’m ready to hear some old school rock and roll and not much else, if that’s cool with you.”
He gave an uncertain nod, and I flipped on the radio and found a classic rock station. We didn’t speak again for what felt like hours.
Leaning my aching head back against the seat, I watched the world around us change as he drove. The city fell farther and farther behind, and in no time we were passing through farmland, beneath a crystal-blue sky with barely a cloud in sight. The hills got bigger the farther we went, and brighter, too. We were heading north, into foliage country, and we passed some breathtakingly vivid displays. And then they started to fade a little. Farther north, the leaves had passed their peak. A few bare limbs at first, then more, and then mostly.
With vintage Aerosmith providing the soundtrack, I could almost have been anticipating a cheerful day in the country.
Except that I wasn’t. I was heading toward a showdown with some kind of demon. A real demon. Right?
“Or maybe I’m in a psych ward right now, tripping out on Thorazine and all of this is just a big complex hallucination.”
“What’s that?” Tomas asked, glancing sideways at me.
Damn, he’s so good-looking.
I shook my head. “Nothing, it’s all good.”
Eventually, we were heading through New York’s wine country, and soon after, entering Ithaca. The view on one side was of the campus of Cornell University, sitting high above the tiny city like a crown jewel. On the other, the real jewel, Cayuga Lake, glistening in the late-autumn sun, its mirrorlike surface reflecting the remaining foliage so powerfully that it made me gasp out loud in pure pleasure.
“God, it’s beautiful here. It must have been amazing a couple of weeks ago.”
“This is one of my favorite places on the planet. I attended Cornell.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He nodded. “And I have a friend there I’d like to contact. Professor Jonathon Yates. He might be able to help us translate the writing that appeared on your arm. If the photos came out, that is. Have you looked at them?”
I blinked down at my cell phone, which I’d dropped on the seat between us. “No.” And I didn’t reach for it to do so now.
“You know, avoiding what’s happening isn’t going to make it go away.”
I shrugged. “How do you know unless you let me try?” I was only half joking.
His brows furrowed. He was still trying to figure me out. I don’t suppose I was easy. The worse things got, the more jokes I made. The scarier things were, the more I pretended they didn’t exist. If I could chuck it all right now and head to Disney World, I’d do it in a New York minute.
“Okay,” he said at length. “Okay, I got you. For now, keep pretending we’re just taking a nice drive in the country. I’ll check the photos when we get to the cabin.”
“Cabin?”
“Yeah, I have a place here. Just a dozen or so miles from town, around the southern tip of the lake.”
I frowned at him. “You bought a place near this so-called Portal on purpose?”
“I bought it before I knew about the Portal. Dom said it was divine guidance. I suppose that’s more likely than coincidence.”
“So how did you find out the Portal was here?”
“Ah, that’s Dom’s department. Astrology, ley lines, magnetic fields.” He ran his hand, palm flat, past the top of his head. “I never was very good at that end of things,” he said with a smile.
I smiled back at him. I couldn’t help it. I was starting to really like this guy. “How far?” I asked.
“Not far.”
It wasn’t far, not at all. Within minutes he was turning from a side road onto a narrow dirt driveway that seemed to go on forever. It meandered uphill, under a tunnel-like canopy of intertwined bare limbs with a few Technicolor leaves still clinging. The road was coated in their fallen comrades and looked like a painting crew’s drop cloth: gold and sun-yellow, rust and scarlet, purple and burgundy, rose and mustard. Sunlight made its way through the branches overhead and dappled everything in brilliance. We bumped over a wooden bridge with a swift-running stream only a few feet below it and then back into the tunnel of trees.
Finally the driveway spilled into a wider space that fronted a house straight out of a dark fairy tale. Cobblestone, with dark wood shutters, window boxes filled with orange and yellow marigolds, and an arching front door made of wide, darkly stained boards. Behind the house, and far, far below it, Cayuga Lake glistened, reflecting the bare-limbed forest and splotches of color like a big stained-glass window in the sunlight.
“It looks like a storybook—but a scary storybook. ‘Grimm’s Grimmest.’”
“I think it’s charming. What’s so scary about it?”
I shrugged and got out of the car. He got out, too. Nothing really, I thought. There were no gargoyles, no dead plants, no cobwebs or dusty windows. “I don’t know. But it feels scary to me.”
“Well, you’ve been through a lot of scary stuff in the past few days. I guess that must be why.”
“Yeah.” I stood on the ground staring at the house. “That must be why.” But I didn’t believe it. As I walked toward the place, I got the creepiest feeling up the back of my neck. As if someone was watching me. But when I looked around to see who, there were only rows of towering maples that spread away from the drive and surrounded the cottage. A little hardwood forest in between me and the road out of here.
I rubbed my arms and looked again at the house. “So is this fairy-tale cottage like…sitting right on top of the local Hellmouth, then?”
“No. I promise, the Portal is not under my house. I don’t know where it is, exactly, just that it’s near. That’s one of the reasons I need you—you’re going to help me find it.”
“Right.”
“Would you like to go inside now?”
I looked at the house again, braced my spine and swallowed my fear. “If you insist, Padre.”
* * *
In his dark world, the demon felt it. The priest was near, and in the company of the witch who held the key to his return. It was happening, just as he had always known it would, though he no longer knew how he had come by the knowledge. He remembered nothing but darkness and hate. He yearned for nothing but vengeance and blood.
And freedom. Freedom from this prison.
His anger had grown over the years. His hatred had festered. He would take that witch and force her to give him the key. He didn’t know what form it would take, but he knew she had it.
He would hurt her if she did not comply.
As for the priest, he would hurt him either way. He hated priests of every ilk and would wipe them all from existence if he were able.
And as with most of his overpowering emotions, he did not know why he felt that way, only that he did. He did not question his feelings. He simply felt them, acted on them. There was no thought in between. Only raw hate.
So he would kill the priest outright and the witch in due time.
But first he had to find them.
He could not pass through the Portal until the time was perfect. Midnight on the Eve of Samhain. And he could not pass through without the key the witch possessed. Even then, he would remain in spirit form, not physical. Getting a body would be the second goal. Just getting through the Portal was the first.
But even from this dark place, he could influence beings in the land of the living. The simplest minds would give way to his control mos
t easily. The innocent. So the young, the stupid and, of course, the animals.
They would be his eyes and his ears, since he had no body of his own. They would locate his quarry for him and, if necessary, destroy them on his behalf.
He would deploy his own little army. And now that the priest had drawn near the Portal, it was time to begin amassing his troops.
6
The cottage was cozy enough. There was nothing about it that ought to frighten me. Overstuffed furniture and plants everywhere. Wildlife prints on the walls, huge sliding glass doors that opened onto a rear deck that faced out toward the mirror lake below.
I stood on that deck with the wind riffling my hair, looking out over the railing, just taking it all in. It was a far different view from what I was used to. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything like it. I was a city girl, had been all my life.
Tomas joined me there after a few minutes, a steaming mug in each hand. “What do you think of my place?” he asked as I took one of them from him, felt its warmth, caught the scent of chocolate.
“I can see why you love it here. It’s beautiful.” I closed my eyes and pulled the cup closer to my face, sniffing. “Mmm. Cocoa.”
“Aha. I thought I detected the soul of a chocoholic about you.”
“There’s nothing chocolate can’t fix,” I informed him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it could make this alleged demon so happy he grows a halo.” I turned to continue gazing out over the water. “You know, this enforced vacation might not be so bad, after all. This is a gorgeous cottage, there’s a beautiful lake, what’s left of the foliage is breathtaking, and I’m here with one of the best-looking men I’ve ever met, who happens to indulge me in a smoke now and then. Even if he is a priest.”
He blinked. “I… Thanks, I guess.”
“So have you got one now?”
“One…”
I held up my fingers in a backward peace sign in front of my lips. He caught my meaning. “Nope. Fresh out.”
“Just used them to lure me here, didn’t you?” I accused.
“Is that what you think?”
I shrugged and relaxed, my elbows on the railing, cocoa in hand. “Pretty interesting that you picked this place before you knew this Portal thing was nearby.”
“Yeah. I fell in love with the area when I was at Cornell and just never wanted to leave. I was drawn to this place from my first visit here.” Then he frowned a little. “Of course, who’s to say the Portal wasn’t the reason for that? Guarding it is my calling, one into which I was born, according to Dom, so…maybe I sensed it even then.”
“You ever think he might be wrong?”
“Dom?”
“Yeah. I mean, he’s not the Pope. Humans are fallible, and this legend of yours is thousands of years old. You lose a lot over centuries of interpretation and reinterpretation. Just look at the Bible.”
He didn’t answer me, so I sipped and pretended not to notice. “Well, at least it’s pretty here.”
He moved to a little round table on the left-hand side of the deck, pulled out a chair and sat down, then waited for me to join him, but I didn’t. Just stayed where I was, staring out at the peaceful lake.
“It began three thousand, five hundred years ago, give or take. In Babylon. This demon—”
“I’m not ready to hear this yet.” I was tempted to cover my ears and start singing la-la-la but figured just telling him was more mature. “Can’t we just enjoy the afternoon, maybe toss a couple of steaks on that gas grill over there and—”
“You can’t avoid this forever.”
“Can I avoid it for now?” I asked.
“Of course you can!” called a booming voice from behind us, beyond the still-open patio doors, inside the house.
I jumped, spun around with my hand to my chest and gasped so hard it hurt. But I relaxed when I saw the man coming out through the glass doors. He wore a priestly collar, like Tomas, but was different in every other respect. He was a tall man, slightly stooped and slender, with salt-and-pepper hair in a slicked-back cut. His smile was wide, and his face reminded me of a very old bloodhound as he came straight to me, one hand extended, his pale blue eyes sparkling. “You must be Indira.”
“And you have to be Father Dominick,” I said.
“Guilty as charged.” He closed his hand around mine, big, but frail and soft, as I looked from him to Tomas and back again.
“I didn’t know you were coming, Father Dom,” Tomas said.
“You probably think I’m overstepping, right? But I have good reason for being here, Tomas. There’s an interfaith conference at the Statler this weekend. One I’ve been planning to attend. So I thought I might as well stay here with you, in case I can be of any help. And,” he added, holding up a grocery bag, “I brought steaks.” He shook the bag a little, grinning at me. “Like a bona fide mind reader, eh?”
I couldn’t help but smile back. His jovial mood was infectious, and it broke the tension around here, which had been way needed. “Like a mind reader. You’re not one, are you?”
“Not at all,” he said. “There are few people who wouldn’t love a good steak.” Then he shot a look at Tomas again and shook his head. “This one, all work, no play. Then again, I guess I’ve got to take the blame for that. I’m the one who trained him. It’s my old job he’s doing now.” He set the bag on the table, pulling out two magnums of wine. “Tomas, get us a bucket of ice, eh? I’ll fire up the grill.”
Tomas didn’t move right away. Finally, picking up on it, Dom looked at him and sighed. “I know you’re up to this job, son. I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t. But, Tomas, it’s been my life’s work, too, you know. Training for this time, preparing for it. I just couldn’t stay away now that it’s finally about to play out, you know? I had to be here. I had to see it through. Tell me you understand.”
Tomas drew a deep breath and nodded as he released it all at once. I had the feeling he was going to argue but changed his mind. “I do. I get it.” And he seemed to relax as he approached Father Dom and embraced him. It seemed genuine, complete with multiple back slaps on both sides.
As they stepped apart, Father Dom seemed relieved. “All right, now how about that ice?”
“I’ll put the wine on ice,” I said quickly. “I haven’t had a chance to explore the place yet, or unpack, or anything. It’ll give you guys time to catch up.” I picked up the bottles and nodded at the men as I walked back inside. Frankly, I wanted some alone time, and good old Father Dom had provided a perfect distraction for the hunk. I’d have to thank him sometime.
* * *
Tomas waited until she was out of sight, then slid the glass doors closed and turned. “Why are you really here, Dom?”
“Just like I said. It’s my life’s work. I’m not gonna sit on the sidelines while it goes down.”
But Tomas knew the old man too well. “I’m not buying it any more than I’m buying your friendliness toward Indira. You hate witches. So what’s going on?”
Dom’s jovial expression evaporated. His face turned hard, stern. “You need me, is what’s going on.” He nodded toward the doors. “And now that I’ve seen the witch, I’m thinking it’s a damn good thing I am here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you telling me you haven’t noticed what she looks like?”
Tomas crouched low in front of the grill, twisting the gas valve open and avoiding his elder’s eyes. “I’m human. I noticed.”
“I thought so. Believe me, she’ll use it. Her looks, her body, she’ll use it all. She’s in league with a demon, Tomas. You can’t forget that.”
Rising, Tomas lifted the lid of the grill, turned on the center burner and pushed the ignition button. It snapped three times, then caught with a soft whoosh. “She’s not, actually.”
“What’s this now?” Dom came closer, stood shoulder to shoulder with him, looking his way, but Tomas wasn’t looking back. He pretended great int
erest in the grill as he turned on the other two burners, watching the blue flames light in synchronized order. “She’s not what?” Father Dom asked.
“Not in league with a demon.” He made his voice sound falsely scary as he said the words and waggled his fingers menacingly in the air. “Or with anyone, Dom. She’s just a nice girl who’s being plagued by nightmares and phantom injuries, and has no idea why.”
“Phantom injuries, you say?”
“Yes. It’s happened twice now. At least that I know of. The lashes of a whip across her back, and then a blade cutting her chest and arms. Both times the marks faded within minutes.”
Dom was nodding. “It’s one of the other two witches, or perhaps the demon himself, trying to stir her memory. And it’ll work, too. You mark my words, Tomas, she’ll remember, and as soon as she does, she’ll return to her true calling. To help her demon overlord escape the Underworld. If she has to kill you to do it, she will. She’s a witch, Tomas.”
“You say that as if it’s synonymous with ‘evil.’”
“That’s because it is.” Dom reached up and closed the grill’s lid. “Now let’s just let that heat up good before I toss on the steaks. What have you got on hand for sides?”
* * *
I stuck the wine in the fridge rather than searching the place for an ice bucket. The kitchen was compact and functional, done in stained wood like the rest of the cottage. Very rustic, with old-fashioned-looking white cupboards and appliances, and a white marble countertop with cream and gold swirls. I was eager to explore the rest of the place, but more eager to do something else. As soon as my hands were free, I pulled out my cell phone, relieved to see two bars appear top left, and called Rayne.
It went straight to voice mail, though. Again. Maybe she was at work and not taking calls. “Rayne, it’s Indy. I’m sorry I yelled in that earlier voice mail. I can only assume I pissed you off so much you’re refusing to call me back, and I know you were only trying to help. So get over it now, okay, because I need you. I’m in a cottage in Ithaca with that priest you sicced on me, so I hope he’s as okay as you said. He seems all right so far, but now another one has shown up, and even though he seems like a cheerful old fart, I’m starting to feel outnumbered. Call me, okay?”
Mark of the Witch Page 8
