Mark of the Witch Read Online Free PDF Page A

and opened it, and the smells of sandalwood and dragon’s
blood resin had enveloped me like a puff of magic from a genie’s lamp, I’d felt
it all coming back to me. Witchcraft might be all bullshit, but it had felt very
real from time to time.
    It felt real now.
    Rayne was still talking. Her voice was different during a
ritual. Deeper. More powerful. “Together with the powers of Earth, Air, Fire,
Water and Spirit, and by the unyielding power of the Goddess Herself, we weave
this web so that nothing, be it from this world or any other, may harm this
woman.” Facing me, she said, “Do you have any requests of the Goddess before we
raise the cone of power, Indira Simon?”
    I nodded and, rising to my feet, lifted my eyes and arms
skyward. I felt a tingle flowing through me from the tips of my fingers down my
arms, into my spine, and another upward from the ground, through my feet, up my
legs and into my spine, until the two energies met and exploded. I pulsed with
it and reminded myself it was just a trick of the mind.
    “Show me what I need to know,” I said, though I was sure no one
was listening. I was playing along because Rayne knew something and I wanted her
to tell me what it was. “Show me what these dreams mean, what you want of me.
More than anything right now, I need clarity. Wisdom. And information.”
    And while you’re at it, that soul mate
I’ve been longing for, forever and a day, would be a really nice bonus. You
know, on the off chance you’re real.
    Stupid. You gave up on that,
remember?
    “So mote it be,” Lady Rayne said.
    “So mote it be,” the others all repeated in unison.
    “So mote it be,” I whispered softly. I don’t have any idea why
there were tears rolling down my cheeks. Maybe my eyes were just reacting to the
smoke from the incense that hung in the air. It didn’t dissipate like you’d
expect it to do, outside like this. And even though it was the end of October,
it was warm within the circle, as if it were physically holding our body heat
and the fragrant smoke within it, just like it would supposedly hold the energy
we raised until Rayne sent it forth to become the magical goal.
    One woman hit her djembe drum,
beginning a slow, steady beat. Another joined in, adding an accent, and then
another brought a flourish of her own. A fourth woman shook a rattle in time,
and then Rayne began a chant that echoed the heady music.
    “She changes everything She touches. Everything She touches
changes.”
    On and on the chant went, and it grew louder, its pace picking
up. The witches joined hands, began walking in a circle, spiraling inward until
the first of them reached me in the center, then turning to spiral outward
again, forming a human snake with no end and no beginning. The drums kept up or
led the way, it was impossible to tell which, but everything increased in both
volume and tempo until the entire area was vibrating with energy. I felt it in
my chest, in the pit of my stomach, all around and within me, until it reached a
fever pitch and the chant evolved into a simple, rapid repetition.
    “Touches, changes, touches, changes, touches, changes,
toucheschangestoucheschangestoucheschanges…”
    Then, like the crack of a starter’s pistol at the beginning of
a race, Lady Rayne pressed her palm flat to my chest and shouted, “Release!”
    And I swear to God, I was knocked backward, right off my feet.
A witch standing behind me caught me, though, so I never hit the ground as the
energy wave—or whatever it was—rushed over me. I sank to my knees in reaction.
As I lifted my head, blinking my eyes open once more to look around me, I was
not surprised to see several of the other witches sitting on the ground, where
they’d settled as they let the power surge from them. I could almost see the
result of the spell—the bubble of light around me. I could certainly feel
it.
    I tended to be a skeptic about most things of a so-called
paranormal nature. But in witchcraft, I had