End: Blaze's Book of Souls

As Lois left, she heard Mara belittle Rat—but she also heard Rat's moans as her hand clutched his prick tightly. In truth, the reporter thought Mara had taken a shine to the pale Goth with the scraggly beard...which suited Lois Lane's purposes fine. Mara had given her enough to go on.

The reporter slipped into the corridor, with a casual glance around to make sure there was no one looking. Then she went down the corridor, deliberately cool and collected, and walked with purpose as if she was busy on some errand and knew where she was headed. For most people, that was enough; if you looked like you belonged in a place, then they would accept that you did.

Mara had signed that she had mortgaged her soul—that suggested a contract. Paper records. Physical evidence that Lois could use to bust this place wide open. All she had to do was find it.

When she came, at the end of the corridor, to a door with a brass plate that said MANAGER on it, the reporter smiled.

Bingo, she thought, as her hand tried the door.

It wasn't even locked.

The door swung open—and Lois Lane's heart sank a little.

It was an office, lit only by a dozen screens against the back wall. The great carpet that led up to the desk had pentagrams woven into it. On walls to either side were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, lined with leatherbound tomes and knickknacks. The reporter saw a human skull, a jar in which some malformed fetus lay pickled in formaldehyde, the leering head of a gargoyle, a human hand that dripped with frozen wax, sat on its stump to form a macabre candelabra...then the chair behind the great wooden desk turned, and Lois saw Blaze.

She wore a business suit, the broad shoulders signified power, the exposed cleavage, sensuality. Hair done up in a severe bun. Slim, elegant hands set a book upon the desk.

Yet the hands were red as blood. So was the face. The strangely elongated head, like the bust of Nefertiti, the too-wide mouth set in a Mona Lisa smile, the cheekbones so pronounced they looked about to pop through the skin like spikes. Dark horns curled up from the broad brow, and the eyes that glowed brighter than the television screens were pure white, without pupil or iris. Lois Lane knew, somehow, that this was no bit of makeup and special effects. This was real. Blaze was real.

"Come in, Lois," Blaze said, her English impeccable, but with a trace of some unplaceable accent. "I've been watching you. This is what you're after isn't it? My Book of Souls. All the contracts for all the women who have pledged themselves to me for an eternity in my service."

Lois Lane stepped into the room...and the darkness changed. There was no door behind her anymore. No exit. No escape. As her eyes adjusted, Lois Lane could see on the screen the events in the club. Every bedroom, every bathroom, at the entrances and exits. The reporter knew then that Blaze had watched her every move...had seen everything. Yet only now was she confronting her.

"Whatever you're up to here," Lois Lane said defiantly. "It ends now!"

"Mortal cunt," Blaze said, without malice. "You have no power here. If you want something, you will have to bargain for it."

The reporter paused. Her mouth set in a thin line.

"And if I want your book?" Lois said. "All the contracts you have? All those women to go free?"

Blaze interlaced her fingers and let the point of her chin rest on her hands.

"I think you overvalue yourself," Blaze said. "You are in my realm, Lois. You entered freely and of your own will. I can do what I wish to you."

The demon's lips pursed, as if to blow a kiss...and in that moment, a wind cut through the office, and blew the reporter's clothes off into shreds, so that the reporter stood naked before the fiend from hell. Her smartphone hit the carpet with the softest of sounds. Lois didn't even look at it. She returned the devil's stare defiantly.

"Maybe. But you want more, don't you? You didn't want to just control those women. You want to own them."

Lois stepped forward. Her foot touched the phone.

"So I'll do it. I'll sell my soul—in exchange for every other soul you've taken here!"

Blaze lowered her hands to the desk. She rose from her chair...and her shadow stretched out across the carpet toward the naked reporter.

"You do this willingly? Knowing that I will violate you at my whim? That you shall **** yourself in ways you cannot imagine?"

"I do," Lois shot back, even though her heart beat savagely, and a cold, icy fear gripped the pit of her stomach. Her toes stabbed blindly at the screen of the phone beneath her feet, the only sign of her nervousness.

"Very well. Come forward, and we will make the contract."

Lois stepped into the shadow. She gasped, as the sole of her foot burned in Blaze's darkness. The reporter's hands curled into fists, nails dug into her palms as she **** herself forward...and Blaze drank in the reporter's shock and pain as the invisible flames climbed up the reporter's legs. Lois actually smelled her own pubic hair burn as she approached the desk...and there, between the devil's hands, were the Book of Souls...and a sheet of parchment, with a brief contract written out in heavy English letters of a slightly archaic format.

There was no pen on the desk...but there was a thorn. With a sharp point.

"In blood," Blaze said. "If you please."

With trepidation Lois picked up the thorn. She pressed it against the base of her thumb. Her legs shivered. It felt as though her feet were magnetized to a red-hot plate, unable to move, barely able to think through the pain. The naked reporter grimaced in pain as the invisible flames licked at her pussy. Like a candle that could not be consumed.

The sharp prick of the thorn cut through the invisible flame, if only for a moment. Lois brought her bloody thumb down, right beside the black thumbprint of Blaze herself.

Then, Blaze sank back into her chair. As soon as it began, the burning heat vanished. Lois Lane grabbed at the book. She opened it...and her eyes widened with shock as she saw the pages were blank. With sudden, frantic panic, Lois tore through the book...

Every page was blank.

Blaze's mocking smile widened a little.

"Your night out is over, Lois," Blaze said. "And now, your eternity as my toy has begun. I think to begin with, I'll send you out into club as you are...let the men and women have their way with you. Suck some cocks, eat some pussies, let them fuck you. Service with a smile. After all, the first taste is free...but first, the formality: your soul is mine!"

Blaze stretched out her hand...and something was pulled from Lois Lane's body. Torn from her mind. A single blazing white point of incandescent light that emerged from between her breasts, and floated toward the demon's crimson palm. The devil's smile grew wide, as her fingers closed on the brilliant mote of light.

Then the crimson fist began to smoke.

The demon's grin of triumph turned into a frown. Black lightning arced between her horns.

"What sorcery is this?" she gasped.

"Nor sorcery," a strong female voice spoke. "But your own foolishness.

Zatanna stepped forward and laid her gloved hand on Lois Lane's shoulder. She turned to the reporter and winked.

"Got your message. Good thing you have me on speed dial, eh?" The sorceress said.

Lois smiled back...but it was a queasy smile. She felt...not all there. Her eyes kept being drawn back to Blaze's fist. The light of the mote shone through the flesh now, illuminated the bones as dark shadows. Little flames burst from between the tightly-clasped fingers, and something black as pitch dripped onto the desk.

"You offered your soul to Blaze freely, to save others. That sacrifice made your soul too pure for her to hold onto. Try as she might," Zatanna said. "Something that Blaze should have known. But she got greedy and careless, too focused on tricking you."

"Damn you, witch!" Blaze hissed. "Her soul is mine! All those souls are mine..."

Zatanna lowered the brim of her hat. "I think not. You broke the rules, Blaze. You know what that means?"

"No!" Blaze screamed.

"!tiefroF" Zatanna shouted.

Blaze's hand exploded, as the mote, burning like a comet, shot back into Lois Lane's breast. Every book and piece of paper in the room burst into sudden flame. Even the reporter's own contract curled and blackened into ash. The scarlet succubus gave a long wail of despair...and then shrank and crumpled, as if consumed by an invisible flame herself.

When the demon's wail ended, something of the atmosphere of the room had changed. Lois Lane looked back and saw the door had returned. She trotted over to where she had dropped her phone, and picked it up.

"So...any chance you could magic me up some clothes?" Lois asked the witch.

"Oh, you don't need any clothes," Zatanna said, and Lois nearly jumped as the hand slapped the reporter's bare ass. "After that stunt, you owe me...and you know exactly how to pay me back!"

Lois Lane grinned nervously. This was like that night in Vegas all over again.

"Okay, okay. So is it going to be 'hide the wand,' or..."

"I think we'll start with a few drinks, back at your place," Zatanna said. "Then, maybe you can say hello to my kitty. She's missed you..."

Lois Lane's night out was over...but her adventure with Zatanna had just begun. Yet that is another story.