Ravenous

The chaos made it harder to find Mac. He had been rolled headfirst into a narrow linen closet, his feet still poking into the hall. Holly grasped the metal rail at the foot of the bed, feeling as if she had found the prize in a treasure hunt. He was unconscious, pale but otherwise normal—probably the result of a sedative. At least he wasn't in pain.

'You with him?'

Holly looked over her shoulder. A young nurse in pink scrubs was making the rounds, checking on the overflow patients.

'I just got here,' said Holly. 'Can you tell me how he is?'

The nurse stopped and wedged herself in beside the bed long enough to check Mac's pulse and write a note on the chart hanging at the end of the metal bed frame. 'You'll have to speak to the doctor.'

'When will that be?'

'Hard to say. Three people from an MVA came in.' The nurse paused, looking at Holly's shoes with a mix of envy and amusement. 'You might want to go get a coffee and try again later.' With that, she moved on.

Holly edged her way into the closet beside Mac's bed. Out in the hall a phone rang and rang, none of the staff hustling by taking the time to answer it. Holly put her hand over Mac's. The skin was cool and dry, almost normal. The strange waves of energy that had rolled off him earlier had stopped. Now he had barely any aura to detect.

Guilt bowed her head. Why didn't I see this coming? She wove her fingers through Mac's, studying his face. His breathing was light, lips slightly parted as if to speak. He had a handsome face, dark- lashed and strong-boned. A lot of women would be grateful to wake up to a man like Mac.

He had come to her for help, and she had totally screwed up.

Queasiness rolled through her, half emotion, half a reaction to the hot, stuffy, disinfectant stink of the ward. Holly released Mac's hand and leaned against an open shelf stacked with towels. Her movement must have penetrated his sleep. Mac turned his head, brow contracted. Holly trailed her fingers over his forehead, smoothing out the tension. She hadn't been able to help him so far, but that didn't mean she wouldn't keep trying.

Okay, what do you know? she asked herself.

Alessandro had picked up on something, but all he said was that Mac didn't smell right. She'd put that down to male rivalry. Could have been more.

The diagnostic kiss had been deceptive. For one thing, she'd hoped Mac could distract her from wanting Alessandro. That had kind of skewed her concentration. Sure, that was her fault, but maybe it wasn't the whole story. Grandma had said that demons could conceal their true natures, even while sharing magic. Could the same be true of their spells? Maybe she'd missed whatever magical germ Mac had picked up for the simple reason that it knew how to hide, waiting for the right conditions.

Is that even possible? Am I jumping to conclusions?

The only firm clue she had was the girl Mac called Jenny. That encounter seemed to be ground zero. What kind of supernatural cooties get passed on in a kiss? How long would they hide in a person's system? Had Holly's kissing Mac, pushing her own magic into the mix, somehow kicked the bugs into action?

Her range of diagnostic tests was limited to one. Holly unzipped her purse and rummaged for the antidemon charms she'd picked up from Grandma earlier that day. Physically, they were tiny silk bags of herbs and feathers, hung on a string so they could be worn around the neck. The construction was basic, but the magic packed inside was powerful.

Should have thought of this sooner. She should have already been wearing one, but had thought Mac's dinner would be safe. That says so much about my social life.

Following the natural law of handbags, the wad of charms had sunk to the bottom of Holly's purse. She pulled them out, untangling the pendants until she could work two free. She slipped the fine leather thong of one over her head, tucking the small bag down the front of her neckline.

The charms worked only if there was a demon on the scene. If the area was clean, nothing would happen. Holding her breath, Holly slipped the second charm over Mac's head. Rippling energy raised the hair on her nape. Holly fell back as Mac sat bolt upright with the smooth motion of a puppet pulled by a string. His eyes opened, shocked and sightless.

'Mac?'

Clawing at the bag, he began to scream.

'Stop! Don't!'

'What do you think you're doing?' came a new voice.

Holly wheeled around, expecting to see the young nurse. Instead there was a blond woman in jeans. This time Holly's witch senses hit a home run. She's the demon!

And not bothering to hide her power now.

A brilliant flash smashed Holly against the wall.

Mac was incredibly cold. He was dreaming of Jenny. She was kissing him again. He was hollow, empty as a bowl, and she filled him up with hot, greedy wanting. A burning sensation made Mac shudder, as if he trembled from a fever. It was beyond fleshly desire, beyond mere friction and release. This hunger was piercing and its satisfaction far beyond flesh.

He was dissolving into a black mist. That part was weird.

And then it was over. There was nothing but a fleeting moment of completeness, and then a wrench as she pulled away. Flooded again with pain, he tried to scream, but could only float, disconnected, his cry a wisp of thought inside his head.

Then the pain impaled his chest like a stake through the heart. His scream became a solid thing, a stream of red-hot fire leaving his throat with the force of a spear. Suddenly he was sitting up, his eyes open. Where the hell am I?

The dream dissolved, but the pain still flamed in his chest. Gasping, he scrabbled at his flesh, his fingers stiff claws.

'Stop! Don't!'

Someone. Female. Holly. White-hot pain subsumed every thought, and she was the cause.

He screamed out his agony in gouts of inhuman rage. A dozen hands held him down. A prick in his arm was followed by a soft cloud of euphoria. His mind rolled sideways, capsizing into seas as warm as blood.

Someone ripped the burning thing from his chest, and he surrendered to velvet oblivion.

When Mac woke, something fundamental had changed. He had no idea what it was, just a bad, bad feeling.

The logical part of his brain still stood, like the steel ribs of a burned-out building. He was in a different place now. White walls with white curtains around the bed. The room had the all-time, no-time light of hospitals. He wondered how long he had been there. He couldn't tell whether he was hungry or just sick to his stomach.

Then he saw she was there. Not Holly, but Jenny.

Jenny? Instinct made him want to hide, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Uneasiness stalked him, circling like a hungry cat. He wasn't sure how he knew, but his future depended on what Jenny chose to do now. Right now.

He was afraid. She was evil, and not human. Don't need superpowers to figure that one out. So he watched, barely daring to breathe, belly-up and flat-out like a goddamned sacrifice. She was waffling about what to do with him. There would be pleasure for both of them, but part of her pleasure meant his destruction. Her will was bleeding into him, killing him drop by drop.

He had no idea how he knew that. He just knew.

Mac tried to move his arm. Restraints. That surprised him. What the hell happened? Did I hurt somebody?