It Happened One Doomsday by Laurence MacNaughton Page B

like?” Which brought a new wave of enthusiastic chatter from the investors, sprinkled with occasional phrases in German.
    Dru pretended to study her menu until they had ordered, then excused herself and headed for the ladies’ room. As she passed by the hostess station, she heard her name.
    â€œDru! Over here!”
    She turned. There, squared off against a broad-shouldered, sweating maitre d’, was Greyson. The only person in the whole place wearing jeans and a motorcycle jacket. Here, he looked even more out of place than he had in her shop.
    The look on his face told her something was terribly wrong.
    She rushed over to him, peering around the bulk of the maitre d’, who looked as if he was trying to body block Greyson from taking another step inside.
    â€œGreyson, what are you doing here?”
    â€œWhat was in that drink you gave me?” His pupils were obviously dilated. His unusually pale skin glistened with sweat. “Something feels really wrong with me.”
    The maitre d’ shot Dru a surprised look. “You know this . . . gentleman?”
    Greyson held his hands out, staring at them as if he’d never seen them before. “I feel so funky.”
    Dru pulled Greyson a safe distance away from the maitre d’s deepening frown. That was when she noticed Greyson was wearing a black AC/DC cap that proudly proclaimed Highway to Hell .
    She glanced pointedly at his cap. “What’s with the hat?”
    He looked over both shoulders to make sure no one was standing nearby, his motions exaggerated as if he’d been drinking heavily. Then he leaned close and growled under his breath, “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but I’m getting horns.”
    â€œHorny?” Dru nearly choked.
    â€œ Horns .” He lifted up his cap and pointed at his forehead. Just above each temple, a peaked lump showed through his dark hair. “I thought they were bug bites, at first. But they just kept growing. I don’t believe this is happening.”
    She reached up and, after a moment’s hesitation, felt the inch-tall lumps jutting from his head. Smooth ridges, rounded points, and hot to the touch. “Yeah, hmm. Those definitely seem like little horns.”
    â€œI don’t care how little they are,” he whispered fiercely, tugging his cap back on. Another couple came in through the doors behind him. With wary glances, they circled around at a safe distance.
    Dru tried to project confidence she didn’t feel. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
    He shot her a dark look. “There are horns growing from my head . Nothing about this is okay!”
    That potion should have done away with any sort of demonic symptoms. Or at the least, things should have leveled off, not gotten worse. She’d never seen anything like this before. What vital clue was she missing?
    â€œThere’s got to be something constantly re-afflicting you, accelerating your transformation. Your connection to it is only getting stronger. It’s not the potion.”
    â€œYou’re sure about that?” he said.
    â€œThe potion might be helping, but not enough. Something else is getting to you. It could be a charm, an icon. A physical object that the potion can’t touch. Maybe a cursed artifact of some kind.”
    His eyes narrowed. “What, like a voodoo mask?”
    â€œI don’t know! That’s why I was going to check out your place, see what I could find.”
    â€œWhat was in that drink, anyway?” He belched suddenly, drawing another dark scowl from the maitre d’.
    Dru winced and steered Greyson closer to the exit. “Well, to stabilize your spirit, I needed to use spirits. Like, actual spirits.”
    Greyson’s eyes widened. “You mean I was drinking ghosts?”
    â€œNo, no, I mean alcohol. But special alcohol. The stuff I used was distilled from berries ritually harvested under a