Mark of the Witch Read Online Free PDF

believed—had really believed—and
moments like this were why.
    The mind sure is a powerful thing, isn’t it?
    “It is done,” Rayne said. “Now you’ll be safe, at least. And
pretty soon, I bet you’ll receive the information you’ve asked for. Watch for
signs, Indy.”
    I nodded. “I was hoping some of that information might be
coming from you, Rayne.” I searched her eyes.
    She averted them. “I have a call out. I might have something
for you by tomorrow.”
    I guessed I would have to be satisfied with that for
tonight.
    Rayne turned to her fellow priestesses. “Ladies, would you
kindly wrap things up for me? I’m drained.”
    As Rayne took a seat on the cool ground beside me, the other
women took over. One thanked the Goddess for Her presence and aid, then each of
them bade a hail and farewell to the energies of the four directions. Finally
one woman took up the magic circle, the invisible space Rayne had cast. The
magic circle was the witches’ temple. Sacred space. Holy ground. I knew better
than to leave before all of that was complete, but I was eager to go once it was
finished, hoping to find a smoke on the way home. I was dying for a
cigarette.
    Rayne put a hand on my arm and I jumped. “You need to eat
something, Indy. Ground yourself. I’ve got coffee and cake inside.”
    “Right. Ground myself.” I’d forgotten the habitual post-ritual
snacking. Always seemed to me that the “grounding” thing was just a good excuse
for a pile of sugary carbs. “I know it’s rude of me to rush off, but I just
feel…compelled to get home.”
    “Then that’s where you should be.”
    “Thanks for understanding. And for all of this…”
    “Text me in the morning, let me know how it goes tonight. I’ll
do the same as soon as I have any information for you. Blessed be, Indy.”
    “Blessed be,” I replied automatically.
    I headed for the subway stop on the corner, intending to catch
the next train to my Brooklyn neighborhood.
    But there was something happening to me. A tingling, like an
itch I couldn’t reach way down deep in my psyche, and a slowly spreading
darkness that kept sucking my attention away from the here and now. Like a
person running on lack of sleep who almost drifts off, then shakes herself
awake, I fought against the somnambulant state trying to overtake me, went down
the stairs (into the Underworld), dropped a token (paid the ferryman) and pushed through the
turnstile (entered through the first gate). I found
a post to lean against on the nearly empty platform and waited for my train to
arrive.
    A few other people wandered in, most not paying any attention
to me. There was an old man who made brief eye contact and smiled, breaking an
unspoken rule, probably because in his day it was rude to do otherwise. There
was a cluster of pants-hanging-off-the-ass punks, one of whom had a nice crisp
unlit Marlboro Light Menthol in his hand, and a nice-looking couple who were too
lost in each other to notice anyone else.
    Off in the distance, I heard the train echoing closer.
    I drifted, pulled myself back, drifted again. I kept almost
falling asleep and seeing myself in different clothing. Not quite like in the
dream, though. This time I wore a long cloak of black, with a hood pulled up
over my hair, bathing my face in shadows.
    Stupid dream. Can’t you at least wait
until I get home?
    I jerked myself back to the present. The train was closer. The
other people were beginning to edge nearer the tracks. The punks were
uncomfortably close to the old man. The lead one was about to light his smoke,
lighter in his other hand. But then he paused, pocketing the lighter, smiling at
the others, nodding the old man’s way. The intended victim seemed to realize it
about the same time I did. And just as the flash of alarm showed up in his kind
blue eyes, one of the underwear-showing assholes pulled a knife. I felt myself
lunging toward them even as I fell into the blackness of my dream world.
    * * *
    I woke