The Witch's Daughter

CLANK!

A screaming bullet, the ball whipped by, five feet over the second baseman's glove, shot into the outfield, and drove to the fence with long, bounding hops. Whooping with glee, Flynn and Blake trotted home, while John took a big turn and then held at second base as Roosevelt frantically got the ball back to the infield.

Andy Shephard was next up, and the rattled pitcher grooved a pitch. Andy smoked a base hit into left field. Running with the swing, John saw Coker charge in for the ball as he tore towards third. His legs had never felt so swift. Rounding the bag he darted for home with the go-ahead run and scored with a beautiful slide, five feet ahead of the throw. Jumping to his feet, he roared with triumph as the bench rolled out to congratulate him.

"All right. All right. Nice hit, Chamberlain. Just remember we have two innings to go. Save your screaming for after the game."

Trust Coach to put things in perspective, John thought, as he trotted out to second base after the third out. He took a deep breath of clean night air. He had never felt so alive. It was as if he was connected to everything. The trees beyond the outfield fence, the smattering of fans in the stands, the faint stars he could make out beyond the lights, the fat, pregnant moon breaking through a rip in the clouds to the east.

Everything.

Harris set Roosevelt down in order in the top of the sixth, and North could get nothing going in their half. So it was still five to four, North High, as the game went into the last inning. Jim got the first batter on a foul pop, and the second on a deep fly to the outfield. But Coker dropped a bloop hit into short center, so there was a runner on first and two out when John Chamberlain's life changed forever.

On the third pitch, the batter hit a slow grounder to the right of second base. With crystal-clear foresight, John could see the play unfold. If he tried to get the runner at first, an awkward angle would make the play a difficult one. From his position at second base, John sprinted in and to his right, intending to flip to Andy at second for the force out. He was just bending over to field the ball when he was hit from the side with bruising force. Knocked off his feet, he skidded ten feet towards the outfield. When he got up, he saw two things. The base umpire had his right hand up, signaling an out for interference. And Coker was standing on second base, smirking.

A deep bell rang in John's head and rage overtook him. This jerk had injured one of his teammates, and had tried to do the same to him. Dropping his glove, he charged at Coker and punched him in the face as hard as he could. Coker's nose broke with a wet smack of fracturing cartilage and he fell to his knees, wailing in pain. John was winding up for another savage blow when his right arm was grabbed from behind. Snarling, he turned on his new opponent.

"Whoa whoa whoa, dude!" said Andy, "Keep your cool. I'm on your side, man."

John blinked, dazed by the sudden turn. He turned to the rest of his teammates, who were looking at him with expressions that were, by turns, amused, stunned, and respectful. Some players from Roosevelt had come onto the field, but were being herded back to the bench by their coach.

"Holy crap, son, where did you learn to hit like that?" exclaimed Coach Markovitz. He looked at the still-whimpering Coker and spat in the dust. "Nasty little pig-turd. Get off the field." He turned to the umpire, who was standing by the Roosevelt coach.

"Gentlemen, that little snot hurt one of my players and tried to give John here the same treatment. I saw what you saw, but maybe we can agree he got what he deserved and none of us saw anything?"

The umpire glanced at the Roosevelt coach, who turned his eyes up in disgust, "I was hoping the first time was an accident. Seems it wasn't. I ain't gonna complain."

The umpire shrugged, "I didn't want to fill out an incident report anyway. If you gentlemen will excuse me, my wife has a pot roast in the oven. I'll see you later." He turned and walked off towards the parking lot.

Coach Markovitz turned to John, "Looks like you got away with one, son. Go inside and clean up. If you can manage to avoid punching anyone else over the weekend, you're starting against Hoover on Tuesday."

"Thanks, Coach." John looked around, still somewhat dazed. He went back to the bench and got his jacket and bat and equipment bag. The rest of his teammates filed past, picking up their own equipment, and straggled to the locker room to shower and change clothes.

Go home.

He looked around. Was that a voice?

Go home. It is time.

John decided he didn't want to take a shower with a bunch of people who he didn't particularly like and with whom he barely interacted. Why not go home and tell his mom and sisters about the game? Why worry about good clean sweat and the dirt and grass-stains of hard labor? He pulled his keys out of the pocket of the equipment bag and walked to his car, an old Pontiac Sunfire. He dropped the bag in the trunk.

"Goddess, why do they make these uniforms so uncomfortable?" He pulled his cup out of his pants. No longer constrained, his penis grew, stiffening into a jolly, happy erection. He got into the car and started it up, feeling the heat of his boner pressing against his belly.

No one's looking. Why not take it out?

Why not take it out? He unsnapped his pants and tugged down his athletic supporter. Pulling his jersey out of his pants, he made one token gesture to decency and covered his erection with the shirt tail. Humming happily, he put the car in gear and started the drive home, occasionally stroking his cock.

My, wouldn't his mother and sisters be surprised when he told them how he won the game?

******

Another exciting Friday night in downtown Des Moines, Claire smiled. She looked around as the rest of the family tidied up the store. She had bought a truckload of used material from a shop in Cedar Rapids that was going out of business, and Sybil and the girls were helping her sort the new merchandise. Most of it was junk, she admitted, but secondhand books on tarot and dreamcatchers were practically their stock in trade, there were some crystals that still had some life in them, and many of the dried herbs were good.

Suddenly, she staggered as a jolt of lust and need stronger than anything she had experienced in years struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her legs turned to water. She could feel her pussy flooding with moisture and her nether lips opening to receive a cock.

What is happening?

She spun slowly in place. Hilda had pulled off her t-shirt, and with a dreamy look in her eye was caressing her breasts. Sybil was grinding her crotch against the side of a table piled high with occult books, while Agatha had hiked up her mother's dress and was planting soft, delicate kisses on the insides of her thighs and her ass. And Eleanor, sweet, gentle, Eleanor, was sitting in a chair with her thighs spread lewdly open, panties at her ankles, plunging her fingers into her hot wet pussy.

The little details that had escaped her all afternoon came back with sudden, terrible force.

Eleanor's short temper and complaints about the temperature. Agatha's possessiveness when John was mentioned. Hilda's unusual-even-for-her horniness. The squirming impatience that both she and Sybil had shown.

Oh Goddess. It is time. What happened?

"What's happening?! Sybil, Eleanor, Hilda? What do you see?"

"Victory," said Eleanor, red-faced and gasping with need.

"And violence," added Hilda, happily thumbing her nipples, fat and erect, "John is coming home. A full moon tonight. We should have guessed. The ritual will be closed. I am going there. I will be his first."

"You?" mocked Sybil, turning away from the desk and stripping off her soaked panties. "You are not worthy. Just because you have a set of tits the size of a Guernsey cow does not make you a fit vessel."

"Oh, and you are?" said Agatha, as Hilda turned away, shaking in rage, "John doesn't want some old, worn-out hag. And not some tramp who can't keep her hands off the flavor of the week in the gym, either. John wants me for my body and my mind. I will be his first."

"As if," sniffed Eleanor, and if the scene had not been so surreal, Claire would have laughed to hear that valley-girl pronouncement coming from Eleanor's mouth. "An engineering nerd who hides her body because she is afraid of what might happen if someone sees it? Who was his big sister? Who was his confidante? Who has taken the time to know him when the rest of you are busy working or screwing or studying? Not you. Me. I will be the horny little slut he wants.

"If you are very, very, good," she said, with a little smile on her face, "I might be persuaded to share."

Claire swallowed, throat dry with need. This was madness. What was going on? Why were they turning against each other?

Suddenly, she knew.

Forcing down the want and lust and need, barring her mind to the roaring desire within her, she raised her hands. Calling on her power, she drew a shining line of charms in the air, backed them with a spell that was old before Christ walked the earth, and slammed her hands down on the table.

"ENOUGH!" she roared. The room grew still. Four sets of eyes locked on her, but the madness was beaten back for a moment.

"This is the Dark One's work. He wants us to fight each other. And while we bicker and argue about who fucks who, John is going home.

"Where Susanna is all alone. They are the same blood. And blood is great power."

Hilda and Agatha turned white.

"If he takes her without the ritual in place, takes her in violence and aggression, the covenant that we swore these many centuries past is broken and damned, and us with it. No more healing and fertility and wisdom. He will own us. Think of the damage we could do.

"I must stop him. Sybil," she said, turning to her sister, "Where is the emergency pack?"

"Here, Aunt Claire," said Agatha, pulling a backpack out from behind the store's front counter, and tossing it to her.

Claire caught it cleanly. "Everything that I need inside?"

"Of course. I check it every week. That's what we engineering nerds do," she said with a shaky smile. "We prepare."

"Good. I am leaving now. How far from the ballfield at the high school to our house, Eleanor?"

"Fifteen minutes, Mom."

"And how long to home from here?"

"Twenty-five."

"Then I damned well better hurry. There will be four of you left. Face the prime directions, keep your lust under control, and do whatever you can think of to beat back the Dark One. I will call when it is over."

She raced to the door, slapped the deadbolt open, and ran to her Tesla. Looking after her, Agatha wondered, "How will we know if she won?"

"Keep the link open, daughter," replied Sybil. "You will know. But if I know anything about my sister," she said, watching the car tear off down Grand Avenue, "The Dark One is going to regret messing with Claire Chamberlain.

Chapter 3

Susanna moped through the house, bored and aggravated and lonely on a Friday night. She hadn't had a date since she had told Larry to get lost, and her girlfriends were all busy. Her mother had gone to the store to hold a meeting with the rest of the coven, but she had been left behind.

Again.

Her mother had told her that she and her brother would join the coven soon. But she never told her exactly when that would happen, or what circumstances would have to be met for them to join.

"You'll know when the time is right," she had said.

Mothers could be damn irritating when they chose. They were especially aggravating when they worshiped a Goddess when no one else did, and made the other kids at school ask awkward questions.

She turned on the television and tried to watch a show, but nothing held her attention. She flipped from sports to sitcoms to mindless reality TV. Finally, she changed the channel to her old stand-by, Animal Planet.

Maybe there will be a show about meerkats. Or lemurs. They are so cute and funny.

But the show wasn't about either of those. Instead, she learned about a creature in Africa called a honey badger. It was small, less than two feet long and only about eight inches high. But it was fierce. She watched, entranced, as a honey badger took on a huge snake and killed it. And then another one attacked, (attacked!) a lion.

Something about the violence of the honey badger spoke to her. She shifted in her favorite chair, but could not get comfortable. The air in the house was still and stifling.

You should change your clothes. Put on something sexy.

She would change her clothes, she decided. She paused the show and bounced upstairs. Shucking the jeans and the shirt she had worn to school, she looked in her dresser for something fun to wear.

To hell with the panties. It's too warm and Mom won't let me turn on the AC. Save the planet. Hah. What's the use of saving the planet when my pussy is all itchy?

Susanna's face burned as the naughty word echoed in her head. But it was true. Her pussy was itchy and she was tired of not having a boyfriend. Tired of being a virgin. She didn't miss Larry. After she saw the way he stared at the rest of the family at the barbecue she knew he was a dog. But she wanted what Tricia and the rest of her girlfriends had. They had told her about how much fun sex was, especially if you had the right boy. One who listened.

Sighing, she pulled on a pair of tight cut-offs and a crop-top that had fit her two years ago. She had outgrown it, but she loved the way it pulled tight across her chest and showed off her boobs. Stretching her arms over her head, she looked in the mirror.

Showing a little under-boob there, girl. She giggled to herself. Actually, showing a lot of under-boob. It barely covers your nips.

Who cares? It's not like anyone who minds is going to see it. John pretends he doesn't like it, but I know he does. And Mom tells me my body is a gift from the Goddess, and that it's wrong to be ashamed of it.

Thinking of her brother distracted her more. She hoped he would get home from his ballgame soon. Maybe they could order some pizza and watch a movie while everyone else was sorting junk at the store.

Although she was sometimes frustrated by her mother and her aunt's insistence on running what she considered to be a second-rate novelty shop, Susanna believed in the Goddess. She had seen her mother and sister do things that proved her existence. She just wished sometimes that her mother wasn't so serious about it all the time.

She went back downstairs and started the show again. Honey badgers really were interesting. All that blood and anger. An animal that could be killed, but never beaten.

Take them off.

She took off her cut-offs, and kicked them into the corner.

Touch yourself. Play with your hole. Make the juices flow.

She ran her hands down her sides to her legs, and then up the insides of her thighs. Her thumbs stroked the patch of hair above her mound. Some girls shaved a landing strip there, she knew. Hers was in the shape of a star. It took a lot of work, and a steady hand, but the sight always made her feel delightfully wicked. She lounged back in the old leather recliner, knees hooked over the armrests, left hand busily frigging her clit. Almost involuntarily, she drew the charm for lust on the inside of her left thigh, and the charm for fertility on the right.

And on her belly, above her womb, the rune achma, for broken promises and shattered faith.

She really was most remarkably horny. Davey had made her feel like this, hot and itchy, and fluttery in her belly, before his mom got a better job in Seattle with Boeing and he had to move to Washington. They had tried to get away, just for a couple of hours, but her mother had always been there to make sure she and Davey couldn't.

She scowled. Why did her mother have to always ruin everything?

Well, she wasn't here tonight. She wouldn't ruin her good time. John was coming home soon. She could feel it. Each twin always knew where the other one was. John would get home, and they would have some supper and maybe watch a movie. And then to bed.

She felt his presence in her head even before she saw the headlights or heard the car pull into the drive. She smiled. It was her best friend. Her brother John. And he was so happy. Maybe he got to play in the game!

She walked into the kitchen to meet him at the front door. Her left hand was still idly playing with her dew-soaked petals. The other cupped her right breast, teasing the nipple, shirt pushed up above her breasts. Teasing teasing teasing.

Oh Goddess, I am so horny. I need I need I need-

Her brother walked in the door. She gasped when she saw him. His presence struck her like a wave. He smelled of crushed grass and infield dust and the stink of summer sweat. His uniform shirt was open to the waist, and she could see the sparse hair of his chest. He hadn't shaved since the morning, and his hair, black like their sister Eleanor's, made a raspy stubble on his chin that she ached to rub her hands against. His green eyes shone with joy.

And below, raising rampant from his unbuttoned pants, his erection stood proudly.

"Susanna! Sis! We won the game! Tom got hurt and I came in and drove in two runs and scored the winning run. I was the hero! And I got into a fight and coach said it was okay and I'll be..."

His voice trailed off. They stared at each other.

Deep in John's eyes, something changed.

"Jo...Jo...John?" Susanna stuttered. She saw danger in John's eyes. Something angry and feral.

And something deep within her answered. A wicked, wanton craving. A desire that would never be slaked, not until the skies fell dark and the stars burned out.

John started to undress. First the stupid hat with "Warriors" written in script. Then the jersey, His shoes caused him the most trouble.

"Come on, little boy," she heard her voice purr to him. "Let's see what is hiding under all those...unnecessary...clothes." Both hands were on her breasts now, the last vestige of sanity gone, along with her shirt. She felt the weight of her tits heavy in her palms, pregnant with possibility. She pinched her nipples, stifling a gasp as a bolt of delicious pain lanced through her groin, causing her hips to jerk forward, hungry for his cock.

He cursed at the laces until he got them undone. Then the stirrups and the socks and the pants and lastly the ridiculous athletic supporter.

Naked, they faced each other.

"It is time," they said in unison.

John rushed forward, blind with desire and lust. He grabbed Susana's hands and pinned her against the wall. Eager and mindless, desiring release above all else, his cock burned against her vulnerable belly. His mouth came down hard on hers, ravaging it as she shrieked her need into his mouth.

His hands cupped the taut curves of her ass, fingers gripping hard. He raised her effortlessly and her legs wrapped around his waist with the speed of a striking snake. Her hands were around his neck. She smiled into his eyes. One hand released him. Caressed his chest, and grasped his cock, aiming it at her cleft.

"Yes, darling. Take me."

At last at last at last, the voice gloated.

Susanna never saw her mother, and John never heard her. A hand holding a silver knife appeared at his throat as if by magic. Perhaps it was. Claire's face, incandescent with rage, appeared at the side of her son's.