I Can't!

"Mom, I...I have a life, a career! I'm not ready for a baby right now, much less a Rosemary's baby! I'm just not at that point in my life where I can give birth to the antichrist."

Lois leaned across the table, skin suddenly chill and covered with goosebumps despite the heat. Ella Lane stared at her across the table, face carefully blank.

"I know this is a lot to ask Lois. I wouldn't ask, unless I had any other choice. But you're all that I have—you or your sister. She's here now, you know."

"What? Where?" The reporter spun around...and then spotted her baby sister at the bar, drinking a familiar grey cocktail.

Lucy Lane's hair was short, a military cut. Shorter than Lois, but fitter, with more defined muscles, shown off to good advantage in tight black jeans. She had stripped off a black t-shirt, her small breasts and back plastered with sweat.

"What the hell is she doing here?" The reporter muttered aloud.

"What the hell indeed," a voice cut in, a female purr with some undefinable Mediterranean accent.

The voice belonged to a tall, thin woman in a single one-piece black dress that clung to her few curves, the plunging neckline showing off a slim figure, ribs visible against the skin. Curly black hair fell to mid-back, and the face was somewhat regal, like the bust of Nefertiti, but with a knowing half-smile that recalled to Lois Lane nothing but the Mona Lisa.

"I am Blaze. You and your sister were drawn here, so that one of you could fulfill your mother's contract. Ella chose you to convince first." A slim hand laid on the old woman's shoulder. "Apparently, you're the more stable and responsible one."

"I...you're a demon? You look human," Lois Lane said, unconvinced.

The secret smile grew a fraction wider. She tapped the reporter's glass, and instantly the grey goo within began to refill itself. If it was a magician's trick, it was a good one.

"Appearances can be deceiving. Let us speak openly. I desire an heir. Your mother owes me, and has two healthy...and fertile...daughters, who have been drawn here tonight. Honestly," Blaze smiled. "I prefer you. But your sister is not without her charms."

Lois let that sink in as she sipped her drink. It was warm, almost body-heat, the ammonia strong like a sharp cheese.

"And if neither of us play along?" she asked.

Blaze shrugged. "Your mother is condemned to my service until my price is met. If not this generation then, perhaps, by your daughter or your daughter's daughter."

Ella cut in. "It's not like the movies, Lois. You wouldn't be giving birth to the antichrist, exactly. Just...one of different parentage. And you do want children, don't you?"

"Yes, mother," Lois pinched the bridge of her nose.

"And I know she looks like a woman, but actually she has a great big co—"

"Yes, mother, I noticed." The reporter groaned. Blaze's "package" was at a level with the table, the bulge distinctive and hard to miss, even if you weren't looking for it. Lois had been trying not to think about it.

"You must choose, Lois Lane." Blaze said. "For your mother's sake. Shall it be you...or your sister?"