Page 25 of Dreaming of the Demon

I bit my lip. My eyes had adjusted to the gloom and I could see that an extremely elderly orgy was happening on the Red Lion’s front porch. No wonder Goody Albright was upset! Thescene reminded me of something, but I couldn’t quite place what it was…

“I see that they’re, er, getting busy,” I said to her. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“Well, remember how I came into The Lost Lamb earlier to get the tarts you’d promised to hold back for me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes?” I said, making it a question.

“Well, I fed them to my guests as a special treat during their sunset and stargazing assembly—they’resupposedto be watching the evening stars come out right now. I even gave up my own tart so that everyone could have one,” she said. “And not long after they finished them,thisstarted!”

She gestured again to the porch where a lot of vigorous thrusting and musical moaning was going on. Because of course since they’d all eaten the Golden Warbler tarts, they were all singing instead of speaking. It was a sexual, musical, geriatric mess up there!

“Are you saying mytartsdid this to them?” I protested. “But I never…”

I trailed off because I had suddenly remembered what the scene reminded me of—it looked an awful lot like the Pilgrim orgy Malik had shown me in his memories of what had happened to Hester, my ancestress, after everyone ate her gooseberry pie.

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed. “But how is this possible? I didn’t do anything on purpose!”

“I’m afraid this is my fault,” Malik said, stepping forward.

“And who mightyoube?” Goody Albright frowned up at him. “You look familiar—are you the Demon in the portrait I gave to Celia?”

“I am. She freed me from it,” he said, nodding. “I am Malik, professional Incubus at your service.” He took Goody Albright’shand and bowed over it gallantly, but she snatched it back at once.

“Well, Malik, if this is your doing, you have a lot to answer for! These witches and warlocks are extremely old and fragile—their bones are brittle! I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to call Madam Healer for the whole lot of them once this is over.”

“Forgive me,” Malik said sincerely. “I helped Celia make the pear tarts and I’m afraid the fact that I was, er, stimulating her mentally caused her magic to manifest in her baking.”

I thought of how horny I’d been the whole time we were making the tarts—because every time he touched me, I got dirty images of the two of us going at it in different ways.

“It’s the same thing that happened to Hester,” I muttered. “My longing and desire went into the tarts the same way hers went into her gooseberry pie!”

“Since you now appear to know what happened, do you have an antidote?” Goody Albright asked me. “I hate to blame you, dear, but this is probably happening all over town,” she added. “I do believeeveryonein Hidden Hollow ate at least one of your tarts!”

“I’m afraid you’re right. God!” I put my hands to my face. “I’m so sorry! I never meant for this to happen!”

“I take it that means youdon’thave an antidote then?” Goody Albright asked unhappily.

“The only cure for unrequited longing and lust is to be with the one you love. Or the one you lust for,” Malik said. “I’m afraid this will simply have to run its course.”

“Run its course? But how long willthattake?” Goody Albright demanded.

He shrugged.

“Until the ones affected are fully satiated.” He looked at me. “I’m truly sorry, Celia.”

“Sorry? You’resorry?”I exploded as the full impact of what was happening sank in. Right now, this very minute, everyone in Hidden Hollow who had eaten one of the Golden Warbler tarts was singing their heads off and fucking their brains out! The whole town was one big orgy and as far as they knew, it wasall my fault!

“Do you realize what this means? I’m finished in this town! Nobody is ever going to want to eat anything I bake ever again!” I yelled at Malik.

Malik held his hands out in a “don’t shoot” gesture.

“I swear to you, Celia, I never meant for this to happen. I don’t?—”

“No, stop talking to me.” I put up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Just go.”

“But your deepest fantasy—” he began.

“My deepest fantasy is to never seeyouagain!” I snapped.

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