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?
"You put on quite a show, Detective," Jenny said, as if she had heard his thoughts. Probably had.
She shifted her position on the visitor's chair, uncrossing her long legs, crossing them the other way. Dark jeans. High-heeled boots. Scarlet hoodie. New clothes all around. The evil-entity business must be improving.
"What did you do to me?" Mac barely recognized his own voice. Every syllable vibrated in a raw, parched throat. Vaguely he remembered shouting. Hurting. Both that memory and the present were surreal, as if he were floating along in a theme park ride and events were just murals on the wall.
Jenny heaved a bored sigh and wound a lock of long blond hair around her forefinger. "Hard to explain what I did. What I am. What you're going to be. A bit like telling a baby how to walk. It'll all make sense soon enough."
"Spare me the supervillain crap."
"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Rising, she crossed to the bed and rested one hip by his knees. The mattress dipped, and he felt the warmth of her body through the covers.
Bending forward, Jenny began unbuckling the strap that held his right wrist. Her hoodie was only half-zipped, showing a skimp of black tank top beneath. He got an eyeful of warm, white, round flesh that looked as soft as goose down. Oh, yeah.
She seemed to be taking a long time with the strap. The blanket over his belly stirred, his mind backpedaling but his body stupidly game.
"In case you're wondering," Jenny said, "I sent your friend on her way."
Holly. He had a fleeting image of Holly's face looking down at him. That snippet was followed by other, harsher sensations. Sickness. An ambulance. Pain. Mac blinked, the recollections quashing his body's reaction. "Is she all right?"
Jenny kept working at the stubborn buckle. "Of course. The charm she wore limited what I could do in the few seconds before hospital security came running in answer to your screams. She won't remember being here, though. Nothing, in fact, after finishing the dinner you made. She has great memories of that meal, by the way. Your culinary skills made quite an impression."
"How did you—"
"As a point of fact, I did not have to do much at all." She glanced up, eyes glinting with mischief. "She had to leave. The hospital staff thought she'd been torturing you with a voodoo curse and tossed her out on her ear. Nasty things, those homemade charms."
"Wait. Wait. What charms?"
"That's what burned you. That's what kept me from really getting a grip on your friend."
Foreboding suffocated Mac. "Then how did you wipe her memory? Did you kiss her?"
"Not yet." Jenny gave a sly smile. "Don't worry; she'll wake up safe and sound in her own bed, believing you're just fine. I put the rest of her memories back where I found them. There just wasn't time to do more."
The strap came loose, and Mac flexed his arm, feeling a rush of blood to his fingers. If Holly doesn't remember anything after the meal, she won't know where I am or what happened to me. No one will. Oh, God, what do I do?