Witch Of Alloway

Jack-O-Lantern: Witch of Alloway

Marie Treanor

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Copyright ©2006 Marie Treanor

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ISBN (10) 1-59596-551-3

ISBN (13) 978-1-59956-551-6

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Editor: Crystal Esau

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Chapter One Annie was a bad girl. Everyone had always said so and Annie knew it to be true. She didn’t mind -- she liked being bad. After all, there was nothing else to do in Alloway. But this Hallowe’en she felt especially, deliciously wicked. The hottest band in the western world was playing here in the Alloway Scout Hall, of all unlikely places, and without paying a penny, she had the best view. Backstage in the wings. And even better, she hadn’t actually come to see the band. She’d come to talk to Nick the Janitor about tonight’s Sabbat. That made her gleeful. Mind you, Tam was still a lot easier on the eyes than Old Nick, who was, for once in his life, obliging enough to be absent from his post. Crowded out by the young and muscular roadies no doubt, though most of them seemed to be now round the front of the stage enjoying the show, leaving Annie with nothing to do but ogle the band. Well, ogle Tam. Tam was the lead guitarist, and though he didn’t sing, it was he who always tended to steal the show. On and off stage. He still had the wildly rumpled black curly hair that she had longed to run her fingers through in high school. His face, lean and high-boned, wore the much publicized dissipation of rock and roll very well. A little harder, a little more lined and weary, he was still the most exotically beautiful male she had ever seen. And his body… Annie swallowed, watching the rhythmic swaying of his lithe hips inside the tight black jeans. He

wore no shirt over his broad, tanned chest, only a short black leather jacket, completely open to reveal tantalizing glimpses of skin whenever his body swung in her direction. He played that guitar better than the Devil himself, coaxing wild chords and oddly sweet melodies from the raucous rhythms. He began to move around the stage, lifting the guitar high, crouching low, performing for the crowd with practiced ease, and yet his concentration on the music, on his art, was total. Sweat glistened on the side of his brow, ran back into his hair as he threw his head back. Oh yes, he was better now, far better than the last time he’d played here five years ago. Annie allowed herself to be mesmerized by the music as much as by Tam’s entrancing profile. With resignation, she recognized the return of that old ache she thought had vanished with adolescence. The ache in her stomach, her heart, her throat, the ache of not having Tam. The spell broke with the outbreak of enthusiastic audience applause. Annie curled her lip with cynical amusement at her brief reversion to that younger, sillier self. Tam the gorgeous high school rebel had been unattainable to a shy yet defiant fifteen-year-old. Tam the rock star was simply not on the same planet as the bored witch of Alloway. Even if he deigned to attend this tiny “homecoming” gig -- a PR stunt if ever she’d seen one. As Tam lifted the guitar and slid the strap over his head, Annie eased her shoulder off the wall and looked around again for Nick. Instead she saw one of the roadies approaching, a short, stocky individual with a shaggy beard and a beer stained T-shirt with joint burn holes dotted across the chest. He carried a white towel in one hand and a plastic bottle in the other. Amused, she wondered how he would deal with her, and rested her shoulder back against the wall to find out. Moving quickly, he gazed right past her on to the stage. Hmm, ignoring her presence? Novel technique. Then, with a jolt, she realized why. Although the band had started to play again, someone was coming off the stage, and the roadie was handing him the bottle. A scheduled break for… … Tam. So close to her she could smell the earthy scent and sweat of his body below the subtle, spicy mask of some far more expensive body spray than was common ‘round here. Her heart gave one serious lurch, and for the first time in years, Annie wanted the wall to open up and swallow her. And yet neither man had even looked at her. On stage, the singer -- Johnnie, another Alloway man -- was chanting out words to the relentless drum and bass beat. Tam’s hand, long, strong and capable, reached past her body and took the roadie’s bottle with a word of thanks. The roadie grunted, laid the towel on Tam’s shoulder and walked off the way he’d come. Not overly bright. Quickly, Tam swept the towel over his face and down his throat and chest before letting it drop to the floor. Then he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. With conscious courage, Annie followed the bottle with her eyes, but he gazed straight ahead, apparently still unaware of her existence. For some reason this relieved her ridiculous tension. She relaxed more easily against the wall, let her head fall back against the cool bricks while she studied him in the shadowed half light. The keyboard had broken into the chant, supplying much needed melody on stage. And yet to Annie it sounded flat without Tam. Something stirred in the base of her stomach, twisting lower with a sweet, intense ache. Unhurriedly, Tam lowered the bottle and turned his head. His gaze struck her, hard. Those gorgeous dark brown eyes that had so troubled her adolescent dreams were more intense than ever, full of mocking amusement that seemed to be aimed at the whole world. Including himself. “Who are you?” He still had his accent, still spoke with abrupt directness. And yet he didn’t really care about the answer. “Nobody,” Annie said wryly. “Journalist? Security?” Annie curled her lip and won a faint smile in response. The mocking eyes glinted. “You need security in Alloway?”

“Christ, I hope not. I gave them the night off. Are you looking for me?” “No.” She hoped it would offend him. He deserved to be offended, for ignoring her all those years, for not recognizing her now. He looked surprised certainly. Capitalizing, Annie glanced around her. “I came to talk to Nick.” He blinked as her gaze came lazily back to him. “The janitor,” she explained. “Oh, I know who he is.” Tam gave a breath of laughter. “He chased me round this hall often enough when I was a kid, up to no good. Who are you then? His granddaughter?” “No,” Annie said unhelpfully. Tam took another swig from the bottle, then offered it to her. Surprised by the action, she took it without meaning to. Tam’s gaze swept over her face and down her throat to her short, black dress, tight across the bust and hips, the neckline provocatively cut to show only a tempting morsel of cleavage. The tip of his tongue touched his lower lip and disappeared again. When his eyes lifted once more to hers, they were hot and clouded. A spark of some yellow light seemed to flicker in their depths. Annie’s breath caught. A sudden release of sexual moisture flooded down her thighs. “Going to a party?” he asked huskily. “You could say that,” she managed to respond, running one hand down her side, over her breast and waist and hip. With relief, she remembered she was a bad girl, that she knew how to do this. “I’m a witch.” That funny breath of laughter came again. It was something she’d never associated with him before -- it enchanted and excited her. “Oh, I can see that you are. Can I come with you to your party, witch?” “No,” she said with perfect truth -- and not a little regret. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to believe that she had turned him down. Him. “You’re not allowed. Only witches. So if you saw us, I’d have to kill you.” “You’re killing me now. Don’t I know you, witch?” His gaze roamed her face, a faint frown of puzzled recognition on his brow. “Not in the Biblical sense,” said Annie brazenly. And at that, he smiled into her eyes, a rare, complete smile that deprived her of what little breath she had left. He moved nearer, resting one arm on the wall above her head as he leaned into her. She could make out the texture of his lips, feel the heat of his body so close yet so tantalizingly apart from hers. He said, “I’d like to change that, wouldn’t you?” God, he was blatant. Perversely now, she fought back. “Why would I? Because you’re a rock star?” But again he only laughed silently. His body seemed to crackle with excitement. A quick glance at his crotch proved it. Inside the skintight jeans, his cock stood out mouth-wateringly huge and thick. “You don’t give a fuck about that,” he said surprisingly. “Maybe that’s what turns me on. That and your… costume.” He reached out and in imitation of her own gesture, swept his hand down her side from breast to hip, making her gasp aloud. His hand stayed on her hip, hot and arousing. He leaned in so that his breath tickled her ear. Frissons of pleasure stole down her neck and back to center on her hot, aching core. “So much so that I can’t go back on stage until…” “Until you fuck me?” She meant it to be wicked, provocative, and was very afraid it sounded merely astonished. His hard cock brushed against her abdomen. His breath on her neck made her wriggle, bringing her into closer contact with him. She couldn’t help it. His big, lean body fit around hers like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The touch of his naked chest, with its light covering of sexy black hair, against her breasts brought her pebbled nipples to aching peaks. “Please tell me that was an offer,” he whispered, and as her head twisted, he swooped and captured her mouth in his. It was instant fusion. His mouth clearly meant business, invading hers with tongue and teeth, demanding and receiving her passionate response. He knew how to kiss, doing everything she liked and more as if from instinct, a strong kiss, yet with gentle, sensitive lips and insistent, exploring tongue. Even his teeth caressed.

Annie’s knees threatened to give way under the assault on her senses. She felt so weak with the combination of pleasure and lust he induced that she should have collapsed. Instead, she pressed back into him and twisted her lips under his until she could suck his tongue, moving her lips up and down it in deliberate simulation of oral sex before he groaned and retrieved control, clamping his lips back over hers. “If it was an offer, you couldn’t accept it,” she whispered shakily into his mouth. “You have to go back on stage.” “They can manage without me for a few minutes. Believe me, I couldn’t make this take long if I tried…” Both hands were on her hips now, roaming under the short skirt, pushing it up till it was rucked around her waist, revealing her black stocking tops and suspenders. Gasping, Annie caught at his head. He paused, breathing raggedly, gazing down into her eyes as she searched his face. Tam. It was Tam, who had never been hers except in her dreams. And astoundingly, he wanted her now. She could have this wicked two minutes with him, hard, fast and dirty up against this wall in full view of any passing roadies -- or janitors -- or any of the band who happened to turn this way. Or she could walk away and laugh. Which would be best all round. She didn’t need another ache to remember him by. It was an offer made without affection or respect from a well-known womanizer who already had a beautiful and talented girlfriend in the public eye. Like a hundred others, Annie had merely caught his roving attention, no doubt because he was on some sort of sexual high with the performance. She was a two minute break-filler. Lust fought with pride. Pride never stood a chance. Growling deep in her throat, she dragged her mouth across his chest, licking his nipple. His taste was even more arousing, strong and spicy, salty with sweat. Her arms went around him inside the jacket, sweeping over the hot, sweat-dampened skin of his back and down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers caressed her inner thigh above the stocking top, touching the hot wet place between her legs. At once, a new flood of moisture drenched his fingers. They played her pussy like a guitar and she writhed on them, moaning aloud. Forcefully, she grabbed at his jeans, wrestling with the buttons of his fly until his big cock sprang free. She flung one leg up over his hip and he lifted her with both hands under her buttocks and pushed into her. Annie gasped and gasped again at the feel of him inside her, huge and hard, stretching and filling her. But he gave her no time to adjust. Nor did she want any. Moving within her already, his thrusts were long and hard and forceful. She had never known pleasure like it in her life. Her back against the wall, she met his furious rhythm, twisting on his cock as she fucked him, reaching desperately for her fast sweeping orgasm while she gazed rapt at his wild, blissful face. It hit her like a tidal wave, flooding her, knocking her completely out of reality with the sheer force of the pleasure. Each continuing thrust brought her impossibly higher and kept her there while his own climax shook his body and jetted into hers, setting off further springs of delight. As if from a great way off she heard a voice saying, “Tam? Tam, you’re back on.” Annie froze. A surge of laughter shook Tam’s already heaving body. “Oh, no, I’m not,” he breathed. Languidly, he let her feet slide to the floor, but despite the movement around them now, the approach of at least one set of footsteps, he didn’t withdraw from her. Instead, he slipped one hand inside the neck of her dress and brought out her breast. Aftershocks snaked through her body. “Christ, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, and swept his thumb over her nipple repeatedly while he kissed her mouth with long, sensual thoroughness. She wanted him again. She thought she might come again, right now, his cock still inside her while he kissed her. And people approached from all sides. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said breathlessly when he broke the kiss. “For a two-minute man.” His eyes blazed with laughter and something that was surely the return of lust. “If you hang around, I’ll see if we can’t make it a few more next time.” “Don’t think Kate would like that,” murmured a roadie, waiting patiently behind them. Annie

knew who Kate was. Tam’s girlfriend. His eyes went blank. “Fuck off, Davie,” he said, and pulled her dress down over her hips. At the same time, he withdrew his cock and Annie felt empty. But she wouldn’t care for that, she wouldn’t. She smiled at him as he refastened his jeans. She’d finally had Tam -- her Tam -- and, God, it was worth it. The best two minutes of her life, if the truth were known. Because in those two minutes she’d had his complete, undivided attention. And an amazing orgasm. “Hey, Tam,” she said blatantly, careless of the roadies swarming around yet treating this like an everyday occurrence. She would probably hate that idea tomorrow. Tam picked up the guitar and turned back to her, his eyes still meltingly dark with passion. “Great fuck.” He grinned. “Great fuck yourself.” He threw one arm around her, French kissed her, and then swaggered back on stage. Annie laughed and turned away to find Old Nick.

Chapter Two Annie’s heart sang with happiness as she walked to the church -- the Old Kirk as it was still called. Even the nightly task of putting her grandmother’s shell to bed had failed to depress her. Instead, she hummed to herself, walking with a new pride that she knew was ridiculous. So she’d let some rock star screw her in the stage wings -- that hardly made her a celebrity! In fact, judging by the roadies’ laid-back reaction, it didn’t even make her unique. She didn’t want to analyze it. She just knew that, for tonight at least, Tam had made her happy. Tomorrow was another day. And this was all about power of another sort. Who knew where it could lead? Once she had been desperate for new experience, furious at a God who could take her grandmother from her without allowing the old lady the dignity of death, resentful and bored beyond belief by the subsequent thwarting of her own life ambitions. Then an unexpected chat with Sadie, her grandmother’s “young” friend, aged sixty-two, had opened new doors. It didn’t matter that the leading lights among the witches were Sadie and Old Nick, or that she already knew the others. As part of the coven they were different, mysterious, powerful, knowledgeable, all the things Annie wished to be and wasn’t. Not yet! But tonight she felt power coursing in her veins. Tonight, she knew they would make big things happen. The town was quiet, the guisers long since in bed. It was past chucking-out time at the pubs, and on a weeknight like this, even after the gig, late night revelers were few and far between. Those there were would take great take pains to avoid the ruined Kirk on Hallowe’en. Not Annie. The sight of its grim shape lifted her even further, and she almost ran the rest of the way, bursting through the gate into the yard with a smile on her lips. They waited for her in the shadows of the oldest gravestones, avoiding the moonlight, impatience and excitement written across their faces in equal measure. “Am I late?” Annie took off her jacket, threw it over a nearby gravestone. Perhaps she’d dawdled, her mind full of Tam, her Tam… “As usual! We’re ready to begin!” snapped Nick from his cross-legged perch on the tallest gravestone. He always brought a ladder to get himself up there with some dignity. Irritably, he clapped on his horned head-dress, meant to represent his namesake, Satan himself. Annie always thought that a ridiculous pandering to Nick’s monstrous ego. Tonight she’d meant to tell them so, tell Nick he was a silly old fool and that Sadie had more wisdom and power in her little finger than Nick had ever possessed. Now it didn’t seem important. Nick wasn’t important.

The witches moved in, young and old, male and female, forming a circle around Nick. With Nick ’s cue, they began their chant of observance, walking slowly round the circle, keeping its shape. It seemed more moving than normal, maybe because it was Hallowe’en. Magic was in the air, bringing endless possibilities, breaking down everyday barriers. Annie liked that. Emotion rose up in her throat as she reached out both hands to join with Sadie and May. Raising her face to the moon, she let its pale glow flood her, slid her fingers along the waiting hands and gripped. Sadie and May cried out, trying to wrench free of her grasp. Surprised, Annie glanced down and saw something like electricity crackle between their hands. It felt strong and powerful, a buzzing energy. Annie laughed. It burned, but not with pain, only power, so she held on to the struggling women. Sadie quieted quickly, but it took Nick’s excited “Proceed, damn you!” to still May’s frightened struggles. The ritual went on. They lifted their joined hands, swaying in rhythm with their chant, and Annie thought of her body swaying against Tam’s, of how his cock pushed inside her, over and over. Nick’s candles blew out. One of the middle-aged witches squeaked in alarm, many gasped, but the chant went on until a mist began to form around them, like an ethereal veil. Annie wasn’t afraid. They had gotten this far before. Nick got out his flute and began to play. This was another of his little ego-trips, but in this case, it fit. They needed the music to dance, to draw the spirits. Below Nick, a thicker stream of mist was forming, rising upward from the ground, swirling, taking form. Peering into it, Annie could see only a long, rectangular box, which seemed pointless until she realized its familiar coffin shape. It looked almost solid. Its lid burst off and another stream of mist spiraled out, quickly forming into a white, emaciated human figure. The fear and excitement of the witches rose up into the mist, joined with it, swept with it around the graveyard till everywhere, streams of ectoplasm appeared, shooting up from the ground, some with coffins, some with shrouds they had to fight their way out of. Nick’s tune stumbled but didn’t stop. It grew in volume and in speed, and from habit, the witches followed the rhythm in their dance. So did the ghouls. With weird, jerky, mostly impossible movements, they began to dance across the graves to join the party. “We did it!” yelled Sadie, “we did it!” Annie laughed and hugged her. This was power! For what, she neither knew nor cared. It was just so wild, so intense, that she had to dance. The others felt it too, throwing their bodies around in abandon. Nick’s tune had taken on a new dimension, a new echo, so that now it sounded to Annie like several instruments, all playing together some crazily alluring song. Annie could swear there were electric guitars in there. She could even make it sound in her head a little bit like Tam’s band. Beside her, May was getting down and dirty with Craig from the garage, their every movement still in perfect time with Nick’s rhythm. Dancing was a great way to have sex, but while some of the others groped, Annie just couldn’t stay still enough. She caressed her own breasts, her own hips and thighs as she danced with wild sensuality among the others, a constant whirlwind of motion, graceful even to her own eyes among the jerking of the ghouls who danced with her. One spun his arms and legs right round. One was break-dancing at her feet, his limbs all bent at impossibly grotesque angles. Annie didn’t care, she leaned over him and shook her body, then spun off through the embrace of Bill the butcher to leap up onto one of the table gravestones. Lifting her arms in sheer exhilaration, she danced.

*** Tam hadn’t left with the band. Nor he had gone back to his mother’s house, where he was fairly sure the media still camped on her doorstep. He’d driven around the village on his motorbike, remembering, letting the feel of the place wash back over him. Constricting, stultifying as it had once seemed to him -- he had been desperate to get out of here -- now he found himself remembering the fun of it. He knew those memories to be equally distorted, but that didn’t stop him roaring off out of town to gaze at the big house he’d noticed for sale over the hill. Returning now, he cut the engine and got off. It was too quiet and he had no wish to draw the attention of whatever journalists still skulked around the place. On the old hump-backed bridge, he paused, staring down into the fast flowing River Doon.

He’d grown up with folktales of the river. Hallowe’en had been fun here, guising all over town -singing, playing, telling jokes for sweeties and peanuts and the odd few coins -- then home to someone’s house to scare each other silly with tales of the ghouls and witches and demons who supposedly haunted Alloway. Apparently, evil couldn’t pass running water, so you just had to get half way across the river to be safe from them. In the mixture of lamp and moonlight, Tam could see his own twisted smile in the dark water. Straightening, he turned back to the road and pushed the bike onward to the other side of the bridge. Safe from all pursuing ghouls and witches. Except that girl, Annie. She stayed with him, haunting him with desire. It had been a wild encounter -- years since he’s done anything crazy like that, and even then the couple of times it had happened had been with “groupies,” girls he already knew, had already fucked less publicly. With Annie it had been more spontaneous, indescribably more sexy. And not just because fidelity to Kate was becoming a bind. Not just because Kate herself was a bind, more constricting by far than this place had ever been. Kate’s constant concern for image irked him beyond endurance. If he’d refused to conform to Alloway’s narrow strictures, why the hell should he bow to Kate’s, which were based on nothing more than self-centered obsession? She had a hell of a body, of course, and knew what to do with it. Although that over-groomed, perfect look just wasn’t as sexy as it had once seemed, not compared to the careless, quirky beauty of Annie, for example, with her proud, challenging eyes and her abandoned laughter… and her spontaneity. That’s what his life had missed in the last few years. Annie hadn’t given a toss who he was, just surrendered to the crazy desires of the moment. And Tam knew who she was now. He could find her again. Even if nothing else ever happened between them, he knew now he had to end everything with Kate. In any meaningful way, it had been over for months. The Old Kirk came into sight. As kids they used to come here at Hallowe’en, looking for the ghosts and witches everyone said haunted the place. He’d never seen any, not even as a teenager when he’d been out later than he should and he and his mates had got pissed in the graveyard on cheap beer and Buckfast. Someone else seemed to be pissed in the graveyard now. He could hear voices, uninhibited laughter, and behind it all some distant, insistent music. Tam paused at the gate, but he couldn’t see anything but shadows. The people seemed to be farther round, out of sight. Abandoning the bike at the side of the road, Tam sprinted round the churchyard wall where the noise was louder, then pulled himself up till he could sit on top of the wall. Now he could see them. Tam blinked and shook his head. He rubbed his eyes, but the vision before him stayed firmly there. There were people dancing and cavorting, sure, but among them were other, curiously insubstantial figures that seemed to swirl like mist, and yet who also danced. They were like reflections, holograms, some weird special effect… yes, that’s what they were. Relieved by this triumph of common sense over the instinctive fears of Hallowe’en, Tam let his amused eyes rove over the rest of the party. Some twit with Devil horns was parked cross-legged on top of one of the stones, playing the flute. Tam couldn’t see the other musicians. But he could hear them. They sounded quite good. Maybe there were other musical possibilities in Alloway now. But the guests at this party were weird. Most of them were old -- that is, over fifty. Good on them! And capering away in a way that confirmed their own sexuality. In fact, was that not two people having sex against that stone? Hell, good on you again! Don’t fancy her much myself, but you knock yourself out, my friend! This town is certainly livelier than it used to be! Or did I just have my eyes shut? Oh, wow… is that…? Jesus, it is! The girl, by far the youngest and most beautiful of the revelers, was unmistakably Annie. Dancing on the big table gravestone, she was sensational, graceful, sensual, sexy as hell, so deliciously aware of her own body that Tam couldn’t not be. He began to harden uncomfortably, even while he shook with silent laughter. What a crazy party for her to go to, but he loved that difference about her!

And hell, it was a party. Without further thought, Tam dropped down off the wall into the graveyard and began to walk toward the revelers. She saw him coming. Just for an instant, she paused, then she laughed, a long, clear sound of pure joy, and leapt off the stone. She began to dance toward him, shimmying past one of the weird projections -- where was the equipment for that? It was bloody effective. Maybe they could do something similar on stage… She came right up to him, her eyes shining. She was mesmeric, hypnotic, the most beautiful, sexy thing he had ever seen and she danced straight into his arms. He heard her breath catch as she simply reached up and fastened her mouth to his. Her body still swayed against him, driving him wild as her hard nipples poked through her dress and his T-shirt to make sensual contact. She rubbed herself blatantly against his cock, against all of him, and yet her arms remained free, constantly moving in graceful rhythm. Tam held her sexy, writhing little body him and kissed her back. He ran his hands down her back to her buttocks and heard her moan with pleasure. Still not touching him with her hands, she broke the kiss and danced backward in his hold, Tam her willing follower, till she came up against one of the smaller table stones. She smiled at him, blatantly seductive, still swaying to the music. She was the most exciting thing Tam could ever remember. Pressing his aching cock against her hip, he leaned his upper body slightly back so that he could run his hands over her breasts. She smiled again, covering his hands with her own, pressing them harder into her breasts, caressing yet still dancing. Tam caught her mouth in his once more -- he couldn’t get enough of her. He slid his hands down her sides to her thighs and tugged up the short dress. He groaned aloud and swept his fingers up between her legs to the hot wetness that waited for him. Unable to wait longer, he lifted her onto the stone. She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck at last. And when he opened his fly, she thrust herself forward against his stiff, naked cock. But Tam had his own ideas now. He turned her till she knelt with her back to him, her hips and buttocks gleaming palely in the moonlight. Then he yanked down the shoulders of her dress until her breasts swung free and he could reach around her and cup them while drawing her back against his body. Like that, he entered her, and the music took over. They danced. Her arm wound back over her head to reach around his neck so that she could see his face, her own vivid and blazing with passion. To Tam, the music almost sounded like the band, as if his own songs played in his head to this astounding event. Though they were hardly alone, no one paid them any attention. Everyone was dancing or screwing, or both, among the grotesque, jerking projections of the ghouls, and the whole scene was weirdly arousing, exhilarating. Tam pulled on her nipples as his climax threatened, her moans mingled with the music in his ears, urging him on. He swept one of his hands down to her pussy, pressing over her pubic bone as he thrust into her. She gasped and moaned, higher and higher until it was a scream of joy that went on and on while he fell into his own orgasm and shot his seed deep within her. They collapsed onto the stone face down, with Annie underneath him. It still felt sexy as hell, but unwilling to squash her, he reluctantly withdrew after a minute and turned her so they could lie together. Her face looked so beautiful, so soft and cloudy with satisfied passion, that he groaned and slid his hand between her legs. Gently he pushed two fingers inside her, stirring, while his thumb circled her big, swollen clitoris until she came again. He loved making her come. He wanted to do it all night. Surprising him, she crawled up his body and straddled him. With a wicked gleam, she impaled herself on his re-awakened cock and rode him to another spectacular release that pleasured them both to the point of insanity. This time it was she who collapsed on him, and that felt more relaxing. Idly stroking her hair and smiling like the sated cat he was, Tam murmured, “You are the sweetest, sexiest little witch.” “Witch,” she repeated contentedly. Then she froze. “Witch!” Leaping up, she gasped, “Tam, you have to get out of here!”

Chapter Three He wanted to laugh at her, but there was genuine alarm in her eyes as they gazed almost fearfully past him toward the rest of the party. Her words at the gig came back to him. “Or you’ll have to kill me?” he said wryly. “Oh, not me, Tam, not me…” On her knees beside him, she yanked her dress back into place before she seized his head in both hands. For a second, she stared into his face, her own wild and troubled. Helplessly, he tried to think of words to comfort her, but before he could speak, her lovely brown eyes softened. She bent her head, touching her forehead to his in a gesture of quite unexpected tenderness. “Oh, Tam, I have been so lost,” she whispered. Wonderingly, aching with emotion he couldn’t understand, he touched her hair, her cheek with fingers that shook. But she slid out of his hold. “Go now, Tam, quick before they catch… oh, Christ.” Twisting around, Tam saw the man in Devil horns pointing furiously at Annie and himself. He observed something else too that made him frown. “Annie? Do these projections look more… solid to you now?” “Oh shite, Tam, they’re not projections! Haven’t you realized that? I did it, mostly, and I think you and I together just made them stronger!” Tam stared. The misty swirling ghouls now looked like dead people, dripping with the spilled gore and dirt of their past lives. But the fool with the flute had stopped playing it. At some point, the music had fallen silent, and the ghouls no longer danced, merely stood there, idly spinning their limbs in their sockets and bouncing their heads off their chests and back like some weird bat and ball game. Waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Tam swallowed. Giving in to Annie’s insistent tug, he slid off the table stone and pulled on his jeans. But Annie was moving away from him, back toward the… whatever these things were. Jesus Christ, he had thought the evening surreal before he’d come here. Maybe he was out of his head on something? Why couldn’t he be out of his head? “Annie,” he said hoarsely, but she ignored him, swaying back to her friends. Still the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, never mind fucked… “A stranger! She brought a stranger!” Devil Horns shrieked. Surely Tam knew that voice? Annie laughed. “Hell, I didn’t bring him, he came on his own!” “Get him!” yelled the Horned One, pointing straight at him. The ghouls turned their heads -- a few turned their bodies too -- and looked straight at him. Tam’s blood turned to ice. Bad trip. Bad, bad trip. Time to come down now. As one, the ghouls began to advance on him. Instinctively, Tam took a step backward, and another. The Horned One leapt off his tombstone like a maniac, screaming, “After him! Kill the stranger!” And with the wild old devil in the lead, everyone began to run at him, witches, ghouls and Annie, who said she’d conjured them… Jesus Christ, what was she? What had he done with her? Without a backward glance, she’d rejoined her old friends against him! Then all coherent thought stopped, and Tam did the only thing possible in the circumstances. He took to his heels and ran. Somewhere in his brain, he was aware that if he ever got out of this, he might find it funny. He must have presented a hilarious sight, leaping over gravestones, veering round trees, and vaulting over the graveyard wall with, literally, all the fiends in hell after him. He might even have laughed now, had not Annie been one of those chasing him. As he threw himself on to his motorbike and stamped it to life, he saw the witches pouring out of the gate behind the horned man, while the ghouls poured over the wall as if it hadn’t impeded them in the slightest.

Tam wrenched the throttle and roared off down the street. Only then did he wonder where in hell he could go. He couldn’t run to his mother’s house with this lot after him. The witches might be shamed into shoving off -- and if they weren’t, Tam didn’t feel incapable of dealing with them. It was Annie’s ghouls that bothered him. How the fuck did you get rid of them? What did they do if they caught you? Kill you, suck out your soul, your mind? When did they stop? When the sun came up? When they come to running water. The bridge. He had to get over the bridge. Of course it was old wives’ tales. The whole thing was legend come true, so he had to trust the antidote too. Roaring round the corner, Tam made for the river, and still the fiends followed. They floated and stomped in among the witches, their faces dead and eyeless, skin and insects dripping from their bones, grotesque pieces of shroud trailing behind them. But even the witches were spectacular. None of them save Annie were young, but fear or fury certainly kept them spry. Some of them fell back a little as the chase went on, but not the Horned One, and not Annie. In fact, she was gaining on him. Appalled, he realized some pull of the ghouls was holding the bike back. His speed had slowed, not increased in the run-up to the bridge, and his pursuers were getting closer. At full throttle, Tam gunned the bike up toward the bridge. He had to get half way over, he knew that. Everyone knew that. Including Annie, who, he saw over his shoulder, had put on another superhuman spurt. Desperation in her face, she pounded after the bike, closer and closer to him. Her hand reached out to grab him and fell back. Terrified, Tam realized that if she pulled him from the bike now, he was lost. The bike made it to the bridge. Annie’s feet pounded behind him, drawing alongside. Again she reached out and he veered away, pulling ahead. Desperately, she grabbed at him once more. He felt her hand latch on to the back of his leather jacket and hold. Tam shrugged out of the sleeves, one at a time. Her weight fell away and as the bike leapt forward toward the center of the bridge, he glanced back to see Annie sprawled in the road with his jacket. Tam brought the bike in a screaming circle till it faced the way he’d just come. Annie lay in the road, still clutching his jacket as if it were her only salvation. Pain twisted through his gut. It didn’t feel as if he’d won at all. Annie stirred, trying to rise, but the fiends were closing in on her. “Oh Tam, I have been so lost…” Tam drew in a breath and stared. From a safe position, things readjusted in his head. The ghouls were taking her from him. Make your mind up time. Almost without permission, his hand revved the engine. Tam took careful aim, stared directly ahead and drove the bike straight at Annie. She struggled to her knees. The ghouls clawed at her. Tam sped up and slammed the bike into them. They shattered around him like a thousand chips of ice falling around his body and chilling him to the bone. Through it all, he leaned down and swept Annie up in one arm, felt her terrifyingly frozen and lifeless against his body. At the same time, he turned the bike, scooting it with his foot, and smashed through two more of the ghouls. He was so cold now, he could barely function, but he made his shaking arms and legs work, drove the bike furiously on to the middle of the bridge. The bike sped, perhaps because the fiends’ hold on it had lessened with their numbers, perhaps because Annie was with him, and for once they had both done the right thing. Roaring across the hump of the bridge once more, Tam turned the bike and stopped. The ghouls that were left marked time, marching on the spot by the center. The Horned One and his cronies stood among them shaking their fists like pantomime villains. In Tam’s arms, the girl gave a shaky laugh. Tam glanced down at her. She clung to him with one arm around his neck, but her gaze was on the witches. Slowly, she raised her free hand and put up her middle finger.

All for one, thought Tam, and raised his own digit. After which, he drove off the bridge. For the first time in his life, he thought he might take a girl home to meet his mother.

Marie Treanor Marie Treanor was born and brought up in Scotland, but for some years moved around the UK, working and studying. Now she is back home and happily married with three young children. Having grown bored with city life, she lives these days in a picturesque village by the sea where she is lucky enough to enjoy herself, avoiding housework and writing stories of romance and fantasy. You can find out more about Marie and her books on her website, www.marietreanor.com, and by subscribing to her newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/marietreanornewsletter. She also shares the Sexy Delights loop with fellow Scottish author Kyla Logan. Find out more at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sexydelights. Marie loves to hear from readers, who can contact her at [email protected].