Starchild

The Wives of the Lord

Covens and witch families are a worldwide phenomenon. They each vary in their own spells, beliefs, traditions, and actions. Some even vary in their morality.

—Are you sure of this? —Victoire asks, buttoning up her black shirt,

—Of course. —I answer, from Barney's bed, —Lying is not that hard. Feel lucky that my father is considered the god of lies. —

Barney, adjusting the gun and microphone under her clothing, chuckles. —You need to introduce him to us one day, the other agents wouldn't believe us. Anyways, what's with the all black outfits? Are they goth? Is it their aesthetic? —

I shrug. —It adds to the drama. —

Victoire and I will be visiting the coven at their house, in a city close to ours. The plan is to go, ask about Lucifer's son, and if he's there, learn what his plans are regarding the throne. We will leave the other three at the Sanctum, and their only connection to us will be the microphone. I don't need the witches to feel their sorcery in their own block.

Now in the lobby, Strange looks at us. —How do you know it's safe? —

—A witch cannot hurt another witch. It's part of their pact. —he narrows his eyes in doubt, but I brush him off. —Open the portal, Stephen. —

He grimaces. —I don't like how that sounds. —he whispers, as he opens a window to an alley,

—Me neither. —

We step in, and it closes, leaving us alone in the not-very-populated neighbourhood. I start walking, Victoire following me closely, and head over to the house with the noticeable energy coming off from it. Covens are always meant to be accessible for outside witches, who can always detect them from a long distance. Covens are hospitable.

The house is big, and it could be easily confused with any other normal home. At least ten witches must be living inside.

I knock on the door. Victoire shifts nervously. —Are they gonna let me in? I mean, I'm not a witch. —

—Don't worry. Remember the magic I sense in you? It will throw them off. —

A woman opens the door. She is wearing dark clothing, like us, and for a moment, she seems to have a facade, until she looks at us for more than a second. She smiles, noticing we are not some random passersby. —Oh, hello. Come in. —she moves to the side, and we walk into the house. —The name's Leah. Would you like anything to drink? —

—Yes, please. —I smile,

She gestures to a man as we enter the dining room, —Make tea for three. Maybe bring cookies. Please and thank you. —

The man, wearing a formal suit, nods, and walks to the kitchen. I notice a scar around his neck.

—Resurrection. —Leah says, as we sit at the table, —We brought him back months ago and now he's repaying by helping around the house. He makes amazing tea. —she folds her hands in front of her. —Why are you here? Do you need help? Do you want to see the High Priestess? —

I shake my head, —No, I don't think we need to see her. We're just here looking for someone you might know. —

She nods, —Of course. And that is? —

—The son of Lucifer. —

She fixes her posture, —The Lord. —

—The heir of Hell. —I nod, and look around the house. —I heard he's here, and I want to talk to him. He's a relative of mine. —I notice she looks scared, so I put my hands up, —Don't worry, it's nothing terrible. —