The reality of it was there and then gone, like the brief glow of a lightning bug on a summer night. And then I was back in the present, lying on the cool stone, feeling the autumn kiss on the air, and the pain on my arms and back fading fast as his mouth possessed mine.
I twisted my head to the side. “Tomas, the marks are fading. I feel it. Take your photos.”
He sat up, shifting away from me, blinking as if he, too, had been momentarily transported to another place and time. Nodding, he lifted the phone and took a few more pictures. I rolled onto my stomach, because I knew there were already healing marks on my back, too. Almost as if his kiss held some kind of magic.
I heard the phone clicking with each shot, heard him moving around, and heard someone whisper, Remember.
A flash. Symbols drawn on thick parchmentlike scrolls. My own hand held the ink-reed. I wrote them—the same symbols that had carved themselves into my flesh in the cave. What the hell did they say?
The clicking had stopped.
I rolled onto my back, blinking up at Tomas. His intense brown eyes, deep-set and mesmerizing, stared into my very soul. “They’re gone,” he said softly. He slid the phone into a pocket, then offered me his hands. I took them and let him help me to my feet, then immediately rocked sideways, dizzy as a drunk, and swore under my breath.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He picked me up again, and then, turning, began striding back the way I had come what seemed—and in a way had been—a lifetime ago.
“You can’t carry me all the way back to the cabin, Tomas. It’s not only uphill, it’s steep.”
“Watch me.” He looked down and tried a gentle smile, but it died quickly. “You were right about our shared past, Indy. I…I’ve been having flashes of memory, too.”
“You have?”
He nodded, his eyes shifting away from mine again. “I remember....a love more powerful than I knew anything could be. And I remember being there with you on that cliff.” His brows crunched together as if he were in pain. “And I don’t know how I can ever make up for what I…now believe I did to you in that lifetime.”
“I’m not sure it matters,” I whispered. Lifting my arm, surprised at how much effort that took, I pressed my palm to his cheek, drawing his eyes back to mine. “I’m here. I’m alive. We’re together. Doesn’t that seem to you to sort of…mean something?”
He nodded. “It means God wants us to finish what we started back then.”
“Yes, that’s what I think, too. I mean, I know you’re a priest and all, but maybe that was just the path you had to walk to find me again, and now that you have, you can—”
“Indy, stop.”
I bit my lip, realizing by the look on his face that I had jumped the track—his track, at least—and landed on my own.
“The mission God wants us to complete is the vanquishing of a demon that threatens us all.”
“Oh.” Why do I have the feeling he doesn’t believe that any more than I do? Wishful thinking?
He looked into my eyes.
Does he see the disappointment, the heartbreak, I’m feeling right now? Probably. And he probably finds it as stupid as I do. I mean, okay, I’m changing my mind about not believing in anything woo-woo, because clearly there’s some major woo-woo shit going on here. And reincarnation is a huge part of it, a part I can’t justify doubting any longer.
But in this lifetime, we barely know each other. Even if it feels like we do.
“What happened in that cave, Indy?” he asked.
“Change the subject much?” I was being petulant, and I knew it. So I heaved a sigh, pressed my hands against his chest and said, “Put me down. I can walk from here.”
“You’re still too weak. I can—”
“Put me the fuck down, Tomas.”
Startled, he stopped walking and gently lowered me to my feet. Yeah, I was furious with him. As furious as if we’d been married this whole thirty-five-hundred years and he’d just forgotten our anniversary. I wanted to smack him. Kick him. But I strode uphill instead, head down, eyes on my feet.
“I found the Portal. It’s in the cave. And I saw him. And I’ll tell you right now, Tomas, what I saw was no demon. It was more like a…a wounded animal pleading for help. For mercy. Mercy, isn’t that right up your priestly alley?”
“He’s a child of Satan, a demon, Indy. He’s one of the great deceivers.”
“Yeah? Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as me?”
“He wants your help.”
“And I swore I would give it to him. All those years ago I made a vow to help him, and you knew it and didn’t even tell me.”
He couldn’t even hold my accusing eyes. “I was going to. I just—”
“And this amulet I somehow magically hid in some other plane? The one I’m supposed to retrieve and give to him? Were you going to tell me about that, too?”
He lifted his chin. “Of course I was. Because if we can find it and destroy it, it ends his chances of ever escaping.”
“And what if I decide that’s not what I want to do, Tomas? What if I decide to keep my promise and help this being who looks so freaking sad and tormented to me?”
“Indy, you can’t mean that.”
He stared at me. I stared back. We didn’t speak. And then he said, “I should have told you everything. I know that. But you can’t believe what you saw in that cave, Indy. Naturally he’s not going to appear to you as he truly is. He’s trying to elicit your sympathy, make you doubt your true role in all this.”
“Naturally.” I rolled my eyes. “You act like this is everyday shit to you, when you know, and I know you know, that you’re as lost as I am. You’ve never dealt with a demon before, have you?”
He shook his head. “No. But Dom has. And I’ve been studying, preparing for this my entire lifetime.”
“Several of them, as a matter of fact.” I was being sarcastic and snotty, and I couldn’t seem to help it. “Look, holy man, hasn’t it even occurred to you that I was the victim thirty-five centuries ago? I was murdered, thrown off a freakin’ cliff, for ‘communing with demons’ or practicing magic without a license, or being too sexy for my own good. And you were apparently on the side of the guys who ordered it.” I stopped and turned to stare up into his eyes, and I saw him flinch. “I mean, doesn’t that give you a little pause? A little doubt about who’s on the right side here?”
He looked away, said nothing.
“You do have doubts! I saw them in your eyes just now.” Turning, I continued stomping uphill. “At least that’s something.”
“You’ve found the Portal,” he said. “That’s something, too. I intend to return here and close it permanently.”
I blinked. “You know how to do that?”
“Yes, I know how to do that.”
“And what happens to…him…when you do?”
“He stays where he is. Where he belongs.”
“Suffering in Hell?” I asked. “Is that where he is?”
“Demons have no souls, Indy. Only souls can suffer in Hell.”
I kept going, kept walking, mulling that over for a while, and finally I shook my head firmly. “No. I may have changed my mind about reincarnation, but wherever that de—wherever that being I saw is, it’s not Hell. Because I still don’t believe in Hell. It’s never made sense to me.”
He muttered something under his breath. It sounded like “me neither,” but when I called him on it, he said he’d only been clearing his throat. Right.
“Did you get the photos this time? The writing on my body?”
“Yes. I think so.”
I nodded. “I think we need to get it translated, Tomas. I need to know what those words are. I’m compelled to know what I died for. I mean, what the hell could possibly be more important than....than a love like we must have had? Because it felt…it felt…” I stopped. I couldn’t say more, because I was choking back tears.
“I know. I felt it, too.”
I braced my hand against the smooth white trunk of a young poplar tree, my head hanging. “I wonder if we could feel it again? When all this is over, I mean, and your mission for God is accomplished.”
He touched me. It was just a hand on my shoulder, but it was enough. I turned suddenly, and the act brought my body flush against his. My hand curled around his nape as if of its own volition, and I gazed into his eyes, willing him to want me as hard as I could and forgetting all about the fact that I had given up the practice of witchcraft. And that he was a priest. “Why would we feel this way if we weren’t supposed to do something about it, Tomas?”
He stared at me. I could see the war going on inside him. And I didn’t care. He belonged to me, I knew it suddenly, fiercely and surely. He was mine. His eyes darkened with desire. His lips parted, and he stared at my mouth.
I rose onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his, but only briefly. He shivered in reaction as I lowered myself again. And then his arms snapped around me, one hand cupping my backside, and jerked me hard against him as his head came down and his mouth took mine.
We were mashed together, body to body, mouth to mouth, tasting, devouring each other, our pulses pounding in sync, when voices on the wind reached us and a twig snapped like an exclamation point.
We pulled apart, both of us looking up the trail toward the sound.
Rayne was standing in the path, blinking at us as if she’d just spotted a unicorn. And as I met her eyes, wide with confusion and surprise, Father Dominick appeared just behind her.
I took a guilty step away from Tomas. “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my voice low, for his ears alone. “I didn’t mean to push you like that. It’s powerful, whatever’s there between us. It’s ancient, and it’s powerful, and I honestly don’t know if I can resist it much longer.”
“I don’t know if I can, either.”
I shot him a look. It was so good to hear him say those words. But I wanted more. So much more. Then he put a hand at the small of my back…
I feel his hands on my back.
…urging me forward to meet the others.
* * *
I slept. I slept out the remainder of the day and straight through the night. It was morning again when I blinked my eyes open and slowly focused away the blurriness of the clock on the nightstand. Glowing red characters. 8:45 a.m.
I closed my eyes.
“So…you gonna tell me what the hell is going on between you and my brother?” Rayne asked me.
She was sitting on a padded stool that had been over by the window last time I checked.
I wonder how long she’s been there? She couldn’t have sat there all night, could she?
I thought back to the day before. I’d gone straight to my room to collapse facedown on my bed and try to recover from the…the attack. Or whatever the hell it had been.
It was an attack. No other word for it. And I don’t know if anyone else has noticed this yet—hell, I’m only just figuring it out myself—but every single one leaves me feeling weaker, sicker. I’m starting to think this shit could kill me.
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.”
Mark of the Witch Page 17
