Epilogue: Witch Hunt

It was the little things that didn't add up. Lois Lane had always been perceptive, it was what made her such a great reporter. Now, though...now her eyes peered through shadows. She could speak the languages of cockroaches and pigeons, alley cats and sewer rats. Smell blood on the air. Read the omens in the grounds at the bottom of her morning tea. Inside of the space that had been the reporter's womb, the dark thing stirred, awoken by the pricking of her thumbs. Every fiber in her being told Lois Lane that something was up...but what?

She was on her toes as she entered the Daily Planet building. A part of her wondered if she shouldn't contact Circe—but no. The reporter didn't like to depend on the sorceress outside of their normal lessons. For all she knew, this could be another one of Circe's little tests...like the time Lois had to descend to the minotaur's labyrinth and blow the beastial humanoid so that she could learn the taste of its magic.

It was when Lois got to her desk she realized the trap was about to be sprung. She saw the circle of salt, ready to be closed, just before she stepped inside. Quickly, the reporter backed away, trying to act natural...and saw Jimmy Olsen out of the corner of her eye, drawing a pentacle on the blade of a sword.

Changing direction, Lois headed toward the exit...but no, Cat Grant was there, acting very calm, deep in conversation with Lana Lang. Both of whom were wearing matching belts, the scabbards of daggers hanging out of them. The reporter paused in the coffee clutch, extended her occult senses...and realized things were worse than she thought. There were dead spots, moving about; people under the protection of powerful counter-charms, wielding weapons of cold iron or blessed silver, binding enchantments ready to close. It was skillfully done, too. There was almost nowhere Lois could go in the office where she wouldn't be trapped...and the harder she looked, the more dread panic gripped her heart. There didn't seem to be any way out...

The reporter took a deep breath. There was always a way out. She just needed to think outside the box...pull a jack move...do something unexpected.

Which is when she saw Clark Kent slip through the firedoor next to the coffee clutch, headed to the roof.

Ditching her tea, Lois grabbed the door before it closed and followed him. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt around and could sense no dangerous occult traces. Whoever had laid the trap hadn't expected her to come this way at all, apparently. Which just left one little loose end...

Clark stood half-way up the stairs, looking down at her, obviously surprised to see Lois there. She gave him a saucy smile...but her eyes narrowed. There was something different with him. A source of magic, on his person. A talisman, maybe. Lois could almost smell it.

"Going somewhere, Smallville," she reached up and undid the top button on her blouse, wanting to draw closer to him. "Maybe you'd like a little company."

"Lois," he said thickly. "What are you doing here?"

"Maybe I wanted to spend a little time with you," she said, undoing another button. She felt his gaze focus on her bra, now clearly visible. Her focus was on that source of magic in his own jacket pocket. "We haven't had a lot of time to catch up, lately. Are you seeing anyone?"

"No," he said, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his tie. Lois grinned like a cat and grabbed the bit of black silk, to keep him from escaping...not that Clark was backing down an inch.

"Actually," he said, letting her draw herself closer to him. Reaching out with those big hands and grabbing her ass. Lois was surprised at how good it felt, those huge hands gripping her to him. How natural it felt to be in his grip. "I've been thinking about how nice it would be to settle down, lately. Find a wife. Have a baby."

"Oh, you want to be a daddy?" Lois eased her arms around his neck, drawing her face close to his. She could feel the dark thing inside of her squirm, at once hungry for his seed and yet oddly hesitant, on edge. "Well maybe we can pretend for a while. I don't mind playing house..."

"I have a gift for you," Clark said. "It's in my jacket pocket."

"Oh?" Lois felt a trickle of anticipation...a return of that sense of danger...but her occult senses didn't read any offensive charms, no weapons. Her fingers slipped into his pocket, and found a jewelry box. Lois drew it out, opened it.

The figure was ancient. A nugget of raw gold, carved and shaped into the almost shapeless form of a woman with bloated belly and breasts, wide hips and buttocks, tiny narrow feet. It was threaded on a much more recently made gold chain...and it absolutely radiated with power. Lois gave a little gasp as she felt the black thing inside of her stomach recoil at the very sight of it...but to her third eye it blazed like a tiny sliver of the spring sun.

"I'd very much like to see you wear it," Clark said, and pulled her against him so that she could feel the hardness of his cock, even through their clothes.

"Well, I...okay," she gave a nervous smile, in a strange cold sweat as she took the small, heavy thing from its box, and fastened it around her neck...and let it fall between her breasts. She smiled as she felt that vast power flow through her.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, and took one long stride, pinning her against the wall as he fumbled with his pants. "You are."

Her panties ripped...and too late, Lois felt the pain as the bright power of the amulet suffused her body. The dark thing inside of her tore free, leaving a ragged hole in her panties as her uterus and ovaries grew back. Clark Kent held her as she cried in sudden agony as nerve endings regrew...and then a very different, nearly forgotten heat ran through her body. The primal, animal need to mate. She shook, rubbing herself furiously against him as Clark finally released his cock...and then it was in her, and her lips were tearing at his face, her body heaving on its own, **** to get off, to get him off inside of her...

"I...I want it!" the former witch said as she writhed, impaled upon his stake, her whole body on fire. "I want a baby! I want your baby!"

Her lustful howls echoed throughout the offices of the Daily Planet. In front of the fire door, John Constantine smiled to himself and lit a cigarette.

"Is a...is Miss Lane going to be okay?" Jimmy Olsen said, still holding his sword. Constantine frowned and nodded his head, and Gina Gervais, her stomach just showing her pregnancy, pulled the weapon out of the redhead's hands.

"She'll be fine. Won't be a threat to anyone, 'ceptin' maybe her new husband. I doubt she'll give him a minute's piece. That fertility charm can be a bit potent."

"I don't understand," Lana Lang asked. "What did you do?"

"Magic has its price, love," Constantine said. "Lois Lane's price was her womb, her fertility. When she put on the charm, it gave her that back. No price, no magic. Simple, really."

"Oh," Lana said. A dull thudding came from behind the wall. She heard Lois start to scream, a dim but very clear "Yes! Yes! Yes! Cum in me! Cum in my cunt!," and the redhead blushed. "Well, uh...all's well that ends well?"

Constantine smiled...and then bent down. He pressed his cigarette into a black, snakelike thing that had oozed out from under the door, and the stricken thing shuddered and thrashed.

"Well," he said, looking Lana Lang and Cat Grant up and down and blowing smoke. "There's still the matter of my fee."