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Lois ignored the pleadings of her pussy. It had been a long time since she'd had a cock... The reporter frowned, unable to remember the last time she had sex. She knew it had happened, but the memory was fleeting, elusive. With an effort of will, Lois turned back toward the internet.

The search shifted to digitized records of local papers archived at Metropolis University. The library had been scanning old letters, journals, and genealogical materials and putting them online, but turning them into searchable text documents was a slower process, involving a lot of work by interns and grad students. Lois focused on a handful of names associated with the case, looking for anything connected...

"Bingo," she whispered as a set of documents came up on screen.

They were letters from a socialite associated with the cult—Louise Louvaine—to her confident, Lorraine L'angell. Died in 1927, caught in the crossfire of two bootlegger gangs, scandalously eight months pregnant with no husband. Most of the letters were from 1926, detailing normal social affairs among the Metropolis elite, but there were cryptic references here and there to "Mater Infernus"...

Lois read on, rubbing her thighs together absently, trying to ignore the constant irritation from the tampon. One letter, dated 24 October 1926, caught her attention.

Next week is the ceremony. The idol of the Dark Mother has already been secured, and we shall consecrate it in the Old Way. It is a squat, ugly thing, primitive beyond all imagining. Our foremost grandmothers hid it in caves in the south of France, and there were difficulties securing it...church and state have long repressed the natural religion of women, but now it is here in Metropolis. I stare at it now, as I write to you, tracing the whorls with my eyes, and somehow I feel it is staring back at me...and perhaps she does.

I needn't tell you how anxious I am. Mater Infernus has appeared in my dreams, an angel of flame and shadow, and promised me the reward I have worked for so long—a child to continue my family name. I have felt such a fool spreading my thighs to every pecker that crossed my way, and sorrowing every month as the blood flowed once again, a reminder of my original sin, but now...now perhaps I have a chance to make amends, to be redeemed in my father's eyes...and in my own.

One week. I know you think this matter is foolishness darling Lorri, but if you had seen the Blazing figure as I did, felt the kiss of her lips, the hot touch of her fingers...perhaps you would know my hope. I must anoint the idol with the moon blood...and awaken the sleeping spirit with my passion. It has been so hard, holding back, but it is a small sacrifice for the chance to feel life quicken inside me...

Lois sat back from the laptop, whistling. She had little doubt that this was the idol that Louise had written about...and right down to some of the details of the ceremony. One week would be October 31st...Hallowe'en. All Hallows Eve. Samhain in the old Gaelic calendar. An auspicious date, although Lois thought, a high holy day for witches and the like.

The reporter went back to check the date of her **** and did a little math in her head: if Louvaine was eight months pregnant when she died in 1927, that meant she had conceived somewhere between the end of October and beginning of November 1926.

Maybe there was more to this ritual than just a bit of menstrual blood, Lois thought, reaching down between her legs to scratch at her pussy...and stopped herself, about an inch away. No. No time for that.

Lois stared at the headless idol, which still seemed to be staring at her, the squat vulva almost looking darker than the rest, as though the stone was wet there. The reporter felt a sudden urge to touch it and make sure, but resisted that too.

"Dark Mother. Mater Infernum. Blazing..." she murmured out loud. "Is that who you are?"

Too many questions. This was a great find, but she needed more answers, and doubted that the internet held them. Time to try something else...