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.
I made it to the car, diving behind the wheel and closing the storm outside where it belonged. I didn’t even try to mute the slam of the car door, knowing the storm itself would drown out any noise. I turned the key.
Nothing. Freakin’ nothing. I clenched my fist and shook it at the sky. “A little fucking help here? I mean, come on. No phone. No cell signal. Now no car?”
And then I stopped and blinked slowly. That was a hell of a lot of failure in one fell swoop, wasn’t it? Yeah. Maybe a little bit too much.
I wanted to take a look under that Volvo’s hood, but I’ll tell you what, I wouldn’t have known what the hell to look for. I eyed Father Dom’s big brown car, though. It was parked around the side of the cabin, just its ass end sticking out my way. I hadn’t seen his keys inside on the rack by the door. He’d either left them in it or he had them on him. Or maybe they were in his room.
I hoped they were in the car and, ducking, I ran that direction, my feet making slapping sounds on the wet earth as the storm raged on. The wind pushed me from behind now. I reached his car and yanked on the driver’s door.
Locked. I cupped my hands and peered through the glass, but there were no keys inside that car, and the other three doors were locked, as well.
Hell.
I was out of options. Unless I wanted to walk out of here.
I thought maybe I should give one more look around for Dom’s keys before I resorted to that, and knowing the men would be too busy with Rayne to pay much attention, I thought I’d have a fairly good chance of finding them so long as they weren’t actually on him.
God, I hated like hell to go back into that cabin. I’d been so close to free. I wondered if Dom was crazy enough to try to stop me from leaving, if he knew what I was up to. I wondered if Tomas was crazy enough to let him. Or help him.
Dejected, I went back inside. I peeled off the raincoat, shook it and hung it way in the back of the closet where I’d found it. I put Tomas’s keys back on the rack, then took off my damp, muddy boots. My jeans were blotted with rainwater, my hair and face damp. At least my shirt had stayed dry.
Not wanting to make it obvious that I was planning to get the hell out of here and bring back help for Rayne, I set my hiking boots inside the closet, as well, then closed it and eyeballed the stairs again. I’d have to walk right past the two priests to get to Father Dom’s room. And past them again on my way back to the stairs.
I swallowed hard.
Just do it, chicken shit.
Okay, okay.
I pulled my hoodie off and used it to wipe off my face and soak some of the water from my hair. And then I stiffened my shoulders and strode up the stairs, lifting my chin, and trying to keep my expression placid. Instead of sneaking past them, which would have raised their suspicions if they’d seen me, I walked right in on them, as if that had been my destination to begin with, interrupting them in midspell. Er, prayer.
“This is insane,” I said. Both men went silent and swung irritated gazes my way. “We should get her to a hospital. Right now. We should take her and go.”
Dom puckered up like a prune.
“Look, you’re priests. They’ll let you pray over her there. But they’ll also have her tested for other causes and hooked up to life-sustaining fluids, maybe even put her on a heart monitor.”
“She does have a point,” Tomas said softly, shifting his eyes to Dom.
“You told me yourself not an hour ago that the bridge had certainly been washed out by this storm. Didn’t you, Tomas?”
Tomas blinked and lowered his head, but somehow I got the idea that he hadn’t forgotten that for an instant.
“Is that true? Is the bridge underwater?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You’ve seen it?”
“It always is when it rains like this. It’ll be impassible for at least a day. Maybe longer, depending on when the rain stops.”
Not to a determined witch with her foot to the floor, it won’t.
“Your sister is dying due to the influence of the Demon,” Dom scolded Tomas. “Yet you waste your time answering to his mistress.”
I bristled right up. “Fuck you, Dom. I know who that so-called demon really is. And the high priest who cursed him was probably a guy a lot like you.” I shot my eyes back to Tomas. “It’s your sister’s life we’re talking about here. Don’t you want to at least cover all your bases?”
He looked at me then, and I thought his eyes were not just telling me to let it go but pleading with me to do so.
“Get out!” Dom shouted.
I damn near jumped out of my skin, because his tone was so violent. I didn’t even stop to look at Tomas, I just left the room, giving the door a good slam on the way out. I was shaking all over once I was in the hallway again, but I reminded myself that this was exactly what I’d wanted. To close the door, so I could go into the bastard priest’s room and—I hoped—find his car keys.
I was no longer sure I wanted to leave Rayne behind when I left this place, though. Maybe I should just wait until dark and sneak her out of here in the dead of night.
Might be good. Might not. Better check the bridge first. See if it’s even safe. But first, keys. I needed a vehicle.
I padded down the hall, tossing my hoodie into my own room and slamming that door for good measure. Let them think I was in there stewing. Then I ducked quickly into Father Dickwad’s room and quietly pushed his door closed behind me.
The bed was neatly made, and there was not so much as a paperback out of place. You wouldn’t have known anyone was even using the room, except for the tiny black plastic comb on the dresser.
I paused over that comb, tempted to take a hair from its teeth, hunt down some rusty nails and graveyard dirt, and cast a whopper of a curse on that old son of a bitch. But that was not what I’d come here to do.
I didn’t see the keys anywhere. So I opened each of the four dresser drawers and went through his neatly folded clothes. Since I’d seen his suitcase by the door earlier, apparently he’d unpacked before starting the exorcism. I opened the closet, and searched the pockets of his two shirts and two jackets. Empty.
I knelt down and felt inside the only pair of shoes I saw there. Nothing.
I checked out the adjoining bathroom, and found only a handful of hotel-sized shampoos and conditioners, pilfered from a Holiday Inn.
What happened to “Thou shalt not steal”?
Medicine cabinet. Nothing. Antacids, individually wrapped packets in a nearly empty box. They were the plop-plop, fizz-fizz variety. Hardly any left. Lowering my head in defeat, I spotted lots of little wrappers in the wastebasket.
Frowning, I bent down to pick one up. Same stuff. Plop-plop, fizz-fizz.
Six wrappers. Why had he needed so many?
And weren’t you supposed to mix them with water and drink them down? Where was his g
lass?
I supposed he could have taken it down to the kitchen. He was a fastidious old goat, after all.
And then something jolted in my brain, like a tiny electrical charge, and I was seeing the foam oozing from Rayne’s mouth.
Just for the hell of it, I unwrapped one of the tablets and put in my own mouth, then just closed my lips and held it there as it began to tingle and sort of sizzle on my tongue. In a few seconds I was foaming at the mouth. Just a little. Not as much as Rayne had been doing earlier.
But then, I’d only used one. There were six wrappers in the trash.
Six.
I couldn’t take it anymore and bent to spit the shit out, cupping my hands under the tap and doing my best to rinse the residue of the stuff out of my mouth. It took several big gulps. When I finished, I straightened and met my own eyes in the mirror.
Okay, so maybe you manufactured that much, you sly old bastard. But what about the rest? How the hell do you induce convulsions and unconsciousness?
I looked around the bathroom much more thoroughly then, even peeking beneath the lid into the toilet tank. Then I went back to the bedroom to see where else I could search.
Under the bed.
I knelt down and lifted the comforter, which hung down to the floor. Nothing under there but a plain dark blue suitcase, the old-fashioned hard-shell kind. I pulled it out and flipped the latches—unlocked, good—lifted the lid and stared at its utterly empty interior.
It’s not empty. I can feel it’s not empty. Come on, Eyes of Spirit, don’t let me down now.
Aha! Nothing really sinister, like a false bottom. Just a panel to keep things separate, like lots of older suitcases had. I unsnapped it, lifted it, and there underneath were three brown plastic bottles. The kind prescriptions came in. But I knew the pills and labels didn’t match as soon as I twisted the cover off one, because there were numerous shapes, sizes and colors of drugs inside. Not just one.
And I knew right then, even though I didn’t have proof—yet. I knew that bastard had drugged Rayne. If these drugs were innocent, then why would they be hidden here, instead of sitting in the medicine cabinet next to the antacids?
I poured a handful of pills into my palm, then pocketed them to take to the hospital with me later. The doctors would need to know what she’d been given. Then I put the cap back on the bottle, lowered the panel, closed the lid and slid the suitcase back underneath the bed.
Rayne wasn’t safe here. I was going to have to wait and find a way to take her with me when I left. But where the hell were the keys to the old bastard’s car?
I was still on my knees beside the bed when I heard them talking in the hallway. Footsteps—coming this way. The doorknob twisting.
I flattened my body facedown on the floor and scrambled sideways like a crab on crack, slipping under the bed. Quickly I reached out and yanked the comforter back down. In the nick of time, too, because the door opened just as I snatched my hand back out of sight.
Had they seen it?
“In here,” Father Dom said softly. “I don’t want to risk her listening in.”
“She’s not going to listen in. She thinks we’ve lost our minds, Dom. And I’m not entirely sure she’s wrong. We really ought to take Rayne to a hospital. It’s clear our efforts aren’t working.”
Good job, Tomas. Now just get a tiny bit saner. Come to the light, jackass.
“No, our efforts aren’t working. Do I really need to tell you why?”
The old priest’s shoes came into view in the inch of space between the bedspread and the carpeted floor. He was walking away from Tomas, pausing to stare out the window into the rain. “You betrayed your God. You broke your vows. You caved in to temptation.” The black shoes turned around, pointing back toward Tomas again. “You slept with the Demon’s whore.”
“Don’t call her that.” Tomas’s tone was low and dangerous.
“You gave up the protection God had granted you, and your sister because of you. You made her vulnerable to attack by the very Demon your girlfriend serves.”
“I’ve repented, Dom. Surely God will forgive me.”
“You’ve repented by word alone. But not by deed. I’m afraid your sister’s condition is going to get worse.”
Tomas’s voice was low, emotionless, when he said, “Tell me what I have to do to save Rayne.”
Father Dom was still for a moment. Then he said, “Your Indira is going to help the Demon. You know that. She’s going to slip away from us. She’s going to go down to the cave, to the Portal, and utter the words that will return the amulet to him. And then he’ll be able to pass through. And you know there’s only one way to stop her.”
Tomas faltered, his voice even softer than before. “I can…lock her in her room, stand guard over her, keep her here until Samhain has passed and the veil—”
“And in three thousand five hundred years, it will all happen again. There’s only one way to stop her, Tomas. We must destroy the amulet just as we’ve planned to do all along.”
My throat tightened as I listened to them.
“And there’s only one way to destroy the amulet.” The shiny black shoes moved closer as the old priest stood toe to toe with Tomas. “You have to kill her, my son. You made the right decision once—the only decision you could make at the time. Maybe now you’re starting to understand why. You have to do it again, just as you did before. You have to kill her to save the world. To save your sister. You have to kill the witch.”
19
I pressed a hand over my mouth to silence the gasp that tried to erupt from the core of me. My God, had that been his plan all along? Not just Father Dom’s but Tomas’s, too? And what about last night? Had it meant anything to him, or was it just a slip, a weakness? Did he honestly believe he had fallen prey to the spell of a witch? To the temptation of a demon’s whore?
I wasn’t going to wait around this loony bin to find out. I was out of here just as soon as I had an opportunity. And somehow I had to find a way to take Rayne with me.
Tomas said nothing. Not a word in my defense. Not a denial. Not an argument.
And then Dom went on. “We’d best keep a close eye on her in the meantime—if she gets down there without us, she’ll return the amulet before we have the chance to stop her. Where is she now, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Tomas said softly. “I don’t know.”
The two of them left the room, presumably to go looking for me. I figured they’d start in my bedroom, which gave me time, I hoped. I slid out from underneath the bed and glanced up at the clock on the nightstand. And an idea began to take form in my mind. I grabbed the clock, set it ahead an hour, replaced it on the stand, then hurried to the door to peer out. They were in the hallway outside my bedroom door, tapping it and calling out my name.
I quickly yanked the suitcase out from under the bed, dug out those three pill bottles and jammed them under my blouse. Closed the case, shoved it back under the bed. No way was I risking him carrying out his threats against Rayne.
And that was exactly what it was, I realized. A threat. He might as well have said, “Either you kill the witch or I kill your sister.” Only he was disguising it as, “Either you kill the witch or God is going to kill your sister.”
Was Tomas really buying into such bullshit? Did he really think that was the nature of God? Blackmail? Murder?
I was back in the doorway again five seconds later, trying to figure out how the hell to get ahead of them and downstairs without them knowing. They opened my bedroom door and stepped inside. I took that moment to dart out of the old priest’s room and down the hall, ducking into Rayne’s room before they came out again. I sat in the chair beside her bed, reaching out to take hold of her hand, and wondered what on earth I could do to help get the poison out of her system.
At least the old bastard wouldn’t be giving her any more.
Unless he’s got another stash somewhere. Like in the car.
Damn, but I need those keys.
I’d been betrayed by the man I loved for the second time. He wasn’t going to get a third chance. I noticed there was a clock in Rayne’s room, too, and I quickly set it ahead an hour, replacing it on the nightstand just before the door opened and Tomas stood there looking at me. I noticed he wasn’t wearing his clerical collar.
“Didn’t you hear us calling?”
I shrugged. “Heard. Didn’t give a shit.”
He couldn’t hold my eyes, looking instead at his sister. I wanted to tell him that she’d been poisoned, show him the evidence, but I was too afraid he wouldn’t believe me. Or that his mission, his faith, would be more important to him than the truth. Besides, Father Dom would just come up with some lame explanation, and he had Tomas so twisted up inside that he’d probably believe him. And I would have given myself away before I’d even had a chance to flush the drugs. So I said nothing, got slowly to my feet and moved past him into the hallway.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Indy—”
“Don’t touch me.” I stood motionless, waiting.
He lowered his hand. “It’s going to be all right,” he told me.
“You’re damned straight it is.”
He glanced toward the stairs. Father Dom was on his way up. “We need to talk. Alone,” he said.
“Right.” So he could kill me. “I’ve got nothing to say to you, Tomas.” And yet my throat was tight with tears I refused to shed. I walked away, into my room, slamming the door behind me, then leaning back against it and blinking away the tears in my eyes. A couple of gulps of air, though, and I beat them into submission. I had work to do. Moving to my nightstand, I quickly reset the clock.
By my count there were two more downstairs, and one in Tomas’s room. Neither man wore a watch. I was lucky there.
Mark of the Witch Page 27
