Unknown - Scorched

When he finished, Holly set her coffee mug down, a faint smile in her large green eyes. “So do you know anything more about this vampiress?”

Holly’s too-interested expression made him sit very still, just so he didn’t squirm. “No. Not a thing.” Only that thinking about her makes me crazy.

“Your ears are turning red. She was pretty, I take it?”

His reply shot out more gruffly than he intended. “Yeah, well, I think I might have just been the meal ticket without the ticket part. She damn near ripped out my throat. Okay, an exaggeration, but I’m just saying...”

“She roused strong emotions, which led to exercising your demon powers in a major way.”

Mac nodded, unable to meet her eyes. They had reached the heart of the matter. “I always knew there were traces of the demon left in me. I’ve been a bit stronger, a bit faster all along, but I’d been controlling myself just fine for six months. Then suddenly I could dematerialize. What happened?”

Holly sat back, clearly pondering what he’d said. “The Castle is supposed to neuter magical creatures, not create them.”

“Can we use a different word than ‘neuter’?”

“All right. The Castle’s magic mutes things. Desires. Special abilities.”

“Yeah, and that’s the weird part. Why did it jump-start this latest episode?” If the Castle was supposed to stop appetites—including lust—then why did Constance put his inner caveman on red alert?

Holly wasn’t listening, but sat tapping her thumbnail against her bottom teeth. “And yet, I found a room in there once—a beautiful, amazing place. It was like a bedchamber, but much larger, with a waterfall and fireplace and tapestries.”

She looked up, flushing. “Neither magic nor desires were dampened in there. The Castle isn’t consistent. It was built by magic, like my house. It may have enough sentience to create what it needs.”

He sat back, his mood clenching like a fist. “Then it’s too bad I can’t walk up and ask who ordered the fully functional demon.”

“What did you have for breakfast?” she asked abruptly.

Mac blinked. “Cereal.”

“Was it good?”

“Uh—yeah, I guess so.”

Holly spread her hands. “You’re not a fully functioning demon. If you were, you’d be eating everything in sight on the way to chowing down on somebody’s soul. I remember how you were. You were obsessed with eating. It was incredibly scary.”

“So? I’m still hungry. The desire to drink life never went away.” He tugged at his cuffs, embarrassment making him irritable. He was getting hot. His coat felt tight in the arms. Damned dry cleaners.

“But you don’t have to.”

“No, thank God.”

“So this time is different. I don’t know why.”

“Then how can I fix it?”

“I didn’t say I was giving up. You deserve a chance.”

Not a ringing endorsement, but he’d take it. “You really think it’s something to do with the Castle?”

“If you were holding steady for six months, it’s the only new variable in the equation.”

Mac waved a hand. “Great. The cause of my latest medical crisis is an alternate dimension.”

Holly grimaced. “Try being in charge of the entrance to the damned thing.”

Mac nearly spilled his coffee. “You’re in charge of the portal?” As he said that, he realized it kind of made sense. She’d made it. She was the only one with enough power to do anything with it. “So then why are the hellhounds always hanging around?”

“I’m supposed to be the guardian, but I’m in school. I can’t watch it twenty-four/seven.”

“So you hired them?”

“They were big and tough and unemployed. Alessandro hired them to help him do his law and order thing.”

“I’d get his money back. They’re useless.” Up until the part where they kicked my ass and threw me inside.

Holly sighed. “Yeah, well, the X-Men were busy. The hounds are what we have.”

“Uh-huh.” Mac noticed again how tired she looked. “Do you want another coffee?”

“No, I’ve hardly made a dent in this one.”

“Something to eat?”

“Ugh. No.” She made a face.

“Not a breakfast person?”

“Definitely not. And I’ve got to get to class.” She touched his arm lightly. “Are you at the same phone number?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see what I can find out and call you. Um, probably best if...”

“Don’t worry. I won’t call your house. Caravelli would freak if he knew we’d talked. That would be fun for me, but probably not so much for you.”

Holly looked chagrined. “Sorry. And it’s not just him. It’s my sister. She’s staying in town and she’s, er, not like me.”

“Not a witch?”

“Vampire hunter on a mission to save me from myself.”

“That’s gotta be awkward.” He chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

She made a face. “Maybe I’ll sell ringside seats.” With that, she rose and picked up her backpack, hefting it onto her shoulders. It looked so heavy, he thought if she fell on her back she’d be stuck there, like a turtle.

Mac grinned at the mental image. “Sure I can’t carry your books to class?”

“No thanks. This saves me going to the gym. Gotta run.” She grabbed her coffee mug and paused long enough to plant a kiss on Mac’s cheek. “Hang in there. I’ll be in touch.”

She took a few steps, then looked back, the pale, clear sunlight highlighting the delicate structure of her face. “Stay out of the Castle, eh? No exploring until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Right,” Mac said. “Absolutely not.”

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Mac seeped through the Castle door, pausing to spiral into a column before assuming his human shape. He had his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, so he didn’t notice Constance until a moment later when he looked around to get his bearings.

Constance gave him a gimlet stare. “How did you do that, demon?”

“I went poof,” he said, but wasn’t really thinking about his answer. He was staring at her, trying to decide whether he was delighted to see her or disconcerted by what he saw.

She was sitting slumped against the wall opposite the door, her knees drawn up under her chin. He didn’t need sensitive-guy training to see she’d been crying. She was a mess, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair mussed where she’d jammed her fingers through it.

Oh, crap. He could already feel the horns of a dilemma poking him in the backside. Beautiful, crying woman. Homicidal maniac who’d tried to bite him. Comfort or run like hell? His inner caveman was confused.

“Bitten anybody yet?” he asked.

She gave him a baleful glare. “It’s not a joking matter.”

“Um. No, I’d say not.”

She crammed her fingers back into her hair. “Oh, off with you. What would a demon know about it?”

“Off with you,” he mimicked, pinning the accent perfectly. “My gran used to say that. I’m too old to shoo away now.”

“Well, I’m bloody old enough to be your gran’s gran’s gran. And a bloody lot of good all those years have done me. Just call me the bloody vampire queen.”