FourteenMichael O'Daly's Magic Lantern, immediately afterwards
So, what happens now, I wait 'til nightfall and develop a sudden aversion to garlic?
CHARLIE SITS UP AND RE-FASTENS HIS TROUSERS, deeply annoyed with himself over his lack of self-control, his dearth of will power or resistance. His shirt remains open, the bite to his chest still oozing blood but he seems not to notice, he slumps forward, drained, ashamed, fearful, deeply apprehensive as to what he has done. And what was to follow, he has just f****d, or rather been f****d by one of Satan's acolytes. Surely retribution must follow.
His heart is beating a fierce tattoo, the icy pit that is his stomach roils and twists, and the acidic taste of bile and blood is a foul coating to his tongue and teeth. He feels the blood trickle
