Maggie Shayne - Mark of the Witch

“I’ve missed the shit outta you,” I told her.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s all it is.” Sarcasm dripped. She flagged down a passing waitress, who had her arms full and looked harried as hell. “Bring us each a big fat gooey glazed donut, would you? But only when you get a minute.”

The waitress would undoubtedly have barked at anyone else, with a “this isn’t my table” or an “I’ll get to you as soon as I can,” sort of put off. But she smiled at Rayne. Everyone smiled at Rayne. She had the kind of personality that made people love her, no matter what she said or did.

Or maybe it was some of her magic leaking out.

Except I didn’t believe in that anymore. I lowered my head and caught sight of Rayne’s feet. Three-inch stilettos, black leather, ankle-covering uppers that zipped, and open toes. “Oh, my God, I love your shoes.”

“Thank you. But I assume my shoes are not the reason you emailed me. And since I’m on my lunch break, and hence my time is limited, it might be best to skip straight to your problem.”

Nodding rapidly, I pulled my head back into the game. I was way too easily distracted. And this was important. But, damn, I had to remember to find out where Rayne had bought those shoes.

Stay on topic, Indy .

I sat up straighter, focused. “I’m sorry I waited for a problem to force me to call. That’s pretty rotten of me. I just felt—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“And I appreciate you giving up your lunch hour to help me out. And I’m buying, by the way.”

“Damn right you are.” Rayne winked, and sipped, and the waitress came back with the biggest glazed donuts I’d ever seen.

I took a small bite, followed by a sip of my herbal tea, secretly longing for the caffeine in the cup across the table. Maybe I should give up one vice at a time. Tea and a donut just wasn’t the same. Then I swallowed and looked my friend in the eye. “I’ve been having a recurring dream. Nightmare, really.”

“Ahh. All right. Well, I’m pretty good at dream interpretation.” She shifted in her seat, crossing one gorgeous leg over the other, settling in to listen. “It’s not surprising. I mean, you know the veil between the worlds is thin this time of year.”

“Yeah, I know.” Samhain, the actual holiday on which Halloween was based, was still a week away. Meaning my problem could only get worse.

“Go ahead, tell me about it.”

I nodded and tried to believe that it could get better , too. “I don’t think it’s actually a dream at all.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Rayne tilted her head, taking that in, her eyes going serious and contemplative. The effect was ruined when she took a giant bite of the huge donut right after her sincere, “Go on.”

“Okay. In the dream, or whatever, I’m standing on the edge of a rocky cliff, wearing clothes from some other era, but not many of them. There’s a man that I know is a high priest—not a Wiccan one, mind you—speaking some language that I’ve never heard before. Two other women stand on either side of me, dressed pretty much the same way I am. We’re very close. We love each other—”

“ Love each other? Is this dream heading for a lesbian three-way?”

I stared at her blankly.

“Sorry. Trying to make you smile. I’m not used to seeing you so freaking intense, Indy.”

“This is intense. Whatever it is, it’s … Just let me finish, okay?”

She made a zipper motion over her lips.

“We have some kind of a plan, but I don’t know what it is. I mean, in the dream I do, but I don’t remember when I wake up. Our hands are tied behind our backs. Three men stand right behind us. I feel one of them—his hands are on my back, and it kind of turns me on, which is really fucked up, since I think he’s about to shove me off the freaking cliff.”

Rayne had resumed eating her donut, but she stopped in midbite, her eyes going wider as I went on.

“The next thing I know, we’re falling. Hitting the ground. Dying on the bloody rocks at the bottom, except things always fade to black before that part.”

Rayne lifted her head, met my eyes. I saw rapt interest in hers.

“It’s always the same,” I said. “We all have black hair, dark eyes, the kind of naturally tanned skin that suggests we’re Mediterranean or Middle Eastern or something. I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of a ritual sacrifice. And there’s always another man, a soldier, being held nearby. He’s been badly beaten, and he’s being forced to watch.”

Rayne blinked. “Any names floating around in your head? Any of the words spoken by the high priest, maybe?”

I nodded hard. “The high priest’s name is Sindar. He serves a Sun God, Marduk. I keep getting the feeling I was caught practicing magic and that it was forbidden.”

She was nodding. “Any clues in your clothing or the geography?”

“My clothes look like they were lifted from the wardrobe room for Aladdin . From the cliff, we’re looking out over a vast desert. I can see the shadowy outline of what I think of as my city in the distance.”

“Anything else?” she asked, as if fascinated by the story.

“Why? Is this ringing any bells for you?”

“Just tell me the rest.”

It was. I could see that it was. “I woke up referring to the city as Bumfuck, Egypt, and I heard a voice in my head say Babylon .”

Her eyes flared a little. “And that’s all?”

“No. There’s this.” I held up my hands, pushed back the draping sleeves of my paisley smock top and revealed the rope burns on my wrists.

“Holy shit.” Rayne grabbed my hands, turned them over.

“Yeah, that was my reaction, too.”

Her gaze remained riveted on my reddened wrists until I lowered them to my lap and let my sleeves fall back in place.

“So? What do you think?”

Rayne shook her head as if trying to clear it. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t get those marks some other way? Some ordinary way?”

“Kinky sex with a bondage freak, you mean?”

“Indy …”

“There were no marks when I went to bed. They were there when I got up. There’s not a rope in my entire apartment. No one broke in, drugged me, bound me, raped me, untied me and left again, unless they managed to get into a locked apartment and lock it again on the way out, chain and all. I’m telling you, this is … it’s something else. It’s something … not natural.”

“Supernatural.”

“Yes. That.” Which means I was wrong to stop believing, doesn’t it?

Rayne nodded. “All right.”

“All right? What do you mean, all right? You look like there’s more. Do you know what this is about?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m going to do some research, and I’ll get in touch, okay?”

She knew something. I could see she did. But she wanted to make sure. Fine. “I can’t wait long.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. Meanwhile, maybe we should try a protection spell. Would you be willing to let me do that for you?”

By “we” I was sure she meant the full coven. I would have to look all those witches in the eyes knowing that they knew I had turned my back on their faith. On my faith. On the Goddess.

And yet, I needed something. I needed Rayne’s cooperation, if nothing else, and sure as shit I would offend and wound her if I didn’t agree. Besides, I’d asked for her help. I couldn’t very well refuse it when she offered, could I?

Was there some little part of me that had missed this kind of hocus-pocus bull, too? Yeah, probably, way down deep.

“When?”