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
interest 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?”
I disconnected and hoped for the best. Stupid of me not to have
let someone—anyone—know where I was going and with whom. I was way too old to
make those kinds of mistakes. But at least Rayne would know now. It was on the
record. If anything should happen…
“Think positive much, there, Indy?” I asked myself aloud.
Shaking my head, I walked out of the kitchen and back into the
large open, main room, which combined living and dining areas beneath a tall
cathedral ceiling crisscrossed by huge barn beams. Two bags sat by the door. One
gaped open, and I could see books inside. The other was a small suitcase.
Apparently Father Dom planned to stay for a while.
I found that very disappointing.
There was a den, separated from the rest by a closed door, off
to the right,
“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
interest 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?”
I disconnected and hoped for the best. Stupid of me not to have
let someone—anyone—know where I was going and with whom. I was way too old to
make those kinds of mistakes. But at least Rayne would know now. It was on the
record. If anything should happen…
“Think positive much, there, Indy?” I asked myself aloud.
Shaking my head, I walked out of the kitchen and back into the
large open, main room, which combined living and dining areas beneath a tall
cathedral ceiling crisscrossed by huge barn beams. Two bags sat by the door. One
gaped open, and I could see books inside. The other was a small suitcase.
Apparently Father Dom planned to stay for a while.
I found that very disappointing.
There was a den, separated from the rest by a closed door, off
to the right,
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