Epilogue: A Rising Darkness

"Lois Lane has to be stopped," John Constantine said as he lit a cigarette. He stared around the table at the assembled magicians.

"What makes you say that?" Zatanna countered. "So far she hasn't done anything wrong...she's been preying on rapists, murderers. If anything, the streets of Metropolis are safer now."

"Because right now we can stop her," the British occultist said as he sucked in smoke. "That might not be the case soon."

"The power of the Black Pearl grows," Raven said, the young woman's face shadowed within the hood of her cloak, which was drawn tight about her body. "It feeds on her lust, and that of her...followers."

Encantadora shrugged. "I got no problem with her beating up rapists and stealing their dicks."

"I agree with Zatanna," Rose Psychic said. "She hasn't crossed the line yet. Until she harms an innocent, there's nothing wrong with her extracurricular activities. If anything, we should thank her for taking care of Blaze."

"Power can corrupt," Doctor Fate said, his ancient voice rang hollowly within his golden helmet. "We must be wary and ready to act...if Lois Lane does cross that threshold, between white magic and black."

The debate continued, but the group was stalemated...and parted, after midnight...indecisive. Each went their own way, to their own home or to see to their own affairs...

Rose Psychic stepped warily down the stairway. Her heels clicked on each stone step. The smell was stronger now, for all that Lois Lane's servants had spent many weary hours cleaning and lighting the crypt. It was as though the corruption and cum had seeped into the very stones, and her head began to swim as she touched bottom.

LED lights now illuminated the brightly-lit crypt. The floors were so polished that she could have eaten off them. Women wandered about, but not naked. Freshly-scrubbed, bright-eyed things in lingerie that did nothing to hide the cocks between their legs.

Lois Lane herself had set a map of Metropolis across the old altar. There were stains there that could never be scrubbed out, but they could be covered...wisps of darkness covered the reporter's body. She wore no clothes, but nor did she need them; the night and darkness clothed her to her will, and as Rose stepped forward she saw the dark "fabric" slide from a business suit to an evening dress to a bikini, never still, never failing to highlight and enhance that slim, graceful form.

She turned to Rose, a smile on her lips, the sclera of her eyes blacker than night as the violet irises fixed on her.

"Well?" The word felt like a gentle caress in Rose's brain.

"It...it is as you thought, mistress," Rose shuddered and clutched her trenchcoat more tightly about her. "C-constantine wishes to move against you. The others are...hesitant."

"As well they should be. But come, my dear...there is no need to hide yourself," Lois Lane's lips twisted into a leer. She leaned back against the altar, and her clothes seemed to melt away...to reveal that dark black tentacle that rose from between her legs like a serpent about to strike, or the exploratory trunk of an elephant. "We are all friends and lovers here."

Rose pulled open her trenchoat...and there was nothing on underneath, except for the silk stockings. Two of Lois' servitors took her coat, and Rose could feel the psychic pressure of the room increase as the Black Pearl stirred. All of them were so aroused by her body...and the stone magnified that, turned it back on them...

Her knees hit the stones as she crawled forward. Her tongue slithered over the writhing black appendage in an act of obscene worship. Her thighs burned, cunny quivered.

"Such dutiful service demands reward," Lois said. "Ladies?"

So light was the word, yet it struck them all as a command. In a moment, Rose Psychic was engulfed with soft hands that stroked and squeezed, hot mouths that kissed and licked and sucked. She had only to open her own mouth and an eager tongue slid into it, and she was barely cognizant of being lifted up onto the map-covered altar, her legs spread wide as Lois slid her dark member into the waiting cleft.

It was like a spear of darkness pierced Rose to the core, and her brain cried out in ecstasy. There was no fight in her at all. She wanted this. Wanted Lois to move on top of her, the dark member stretching her pink labia to its limit, her other lovers diligently waiting their turn as they kissed and suckled. All the love and lust of their being together mingled together...and one mind, one will gave shape to that energy.

Form.

Direction.

John Constantine sputtered in mid-stream, a sudden headache stabbed into his brain as the streak of piss abruptly stopped. He reeled away from the urinal, struck with something more than the pints of lager he'd downed in the bar...and stared down between his legs.

Where once he had a cock, now there was only a patch of golden pubic hair. Gently he groped between his legs...and nearly fell to his knees in electric excitement as his hands found his new clitoris for the first time.

Little did he know, that was only the beginning.