Spider-Woman and

The Books of Doom

It's no accident that the building remains obscured: it is the luxurious home... in fact, it is the creation... of a dark, demonic creature for whom human minds are little more than easily-deceived toys. Kane, and his dangerously unstable sister, Mab, have established San Francisco as their base of operations--a base kept free from prying mortal eyes. And amid the opulence and evil, their schemes to establish world dominance for the mysterious "Order" continue, and those who oppose them have paid the price... including more than one plucky superheroine.

And, in the wake of one such encounter, our demonic pair is about to make a very interesting discovery...

***

"Kane! Are you watching television?"

At the sound of his sister's voice, the tall man squirmed uneasily in his chair, and soured his face.

"Mab, I'm busy," he called back to the other room.

Strictly speaking, though, Kane wasn't busy... yet. He was still contemplating the curvaceous spandex-clad form that was strapped cruelly down to the small table in front of him. Golden tresses danced in the light as the woman tried to free herself of her bonds, or expel the enormous black rubber ball that was fastened in her mouth. The latest in a series of superheroines who had fallen prey to Kane's strength and mystic powers, the helpless blonde sagged in her bonds, waiting for her captor to begin his foul predations.

For his part, Kane had been quite looking forward to an evening of uninterrupted debauching of the young blond upstart before arranging for her sale to the slave trade, so he was more than slightly annoyed at the fact that his sister was home already, and interrupting him.

"Kane!" Mab's voice carried its familiar mixture of whipcrack and purr. "Turn on channel 6!"

Kane sighed, and reached for the remote control, snapping the television on, watching the cathode light bathe the helpless form at his feet. The last few seconds of a car commercial faded, and the program returned to what appeared to be one of the more sensationalist news magazine shows. Kane was on the verge of telling his sister to shut up when the camera picked up the program's guest, and Kane decided he could spare a few minutes. The vacant-faced interviewer was talking with a stunning woman whose broad mouth, full lips, and wide eyes conveyed a powerful mixture of intelligence and sensuality; each time she moved her head, studio lights danced like a halo on shining waves of red hair.

"My guest in this segment is investigative journalist Kate Cutler. Kate, would you please tell us about your fascinating new book," the interviewer prompted, and the redhead turned a green-eyed gaze toward the camera that would have stopped any mortal man in his tracks--for that matter, Kane thought, even an immortal.

"Well, Harmony," the redhead responded, though clearly speaking to the entire TV audience, "my research, involving several years of work with some highly confidential sources, archaeologists, and scholars, has led me to conclude that our country, our way of life--our planet--is in danger from a mysterious group that calls itself The Order."

Kane sat bolt upright in his chair, the despoiling of blond superheroines forgotten for the moment.

Where the hell did she get that?, he wondered.

The Order was the mystic society who had, many years back, caused a pair of demonic spirits known as Kane and Mab to be incarnated in superhuman form, to lead them on their quest for world domination. Their plans had gone awry, though: The Order's plans called for the female demon to lead them; but Mab, who was the first "born" of the two, had difficulties with the human form she had been given. The qualities of leadership and command that she was to have been imbued with had become skewed into a lust for personal pleasure and sexual domination, and a fragmented personality that caused her to focus use of her power on her own sensual satisfaction, rather than The Order's grand plan. In fact, to an outside observer, Mab often seemed to be flat-out crazy.

And, Kane mused, since the old men running the group swore by their ancient prophecy--that it must be the female demon that would lead them, and no one else--The Order hadn't made much progress, since Mab was far more interested in sexually humiliating those men and women that fell into her power, than anything resembling a structured assault on the world.

For his part, Kane had long ago given up resenting the fact that his powers and abilities seemed of such little value to The Order. For all the peculiarities of their creation, he loved Mab, and if The Order spent the rest of their lives in a futile quest for dominion, then Kane would simply employ his powers for personal gain and pleasure, while keeping a watchful eye on his vulnerable but dangerous sister.

"The Order? Sounds very 'Da Vinci Code' to me!" giggled the show hostess, but the redheaded journalist simply nodded and continued.

"Yes, we often think of these secret societies as the products of fiction. But my research has uncovered some extraordinary proof of The Order's existence."

That would be a good trick, Kane thought, considering that, until Mab ascended to her full stature, they were simply a group of bitter, old, completely mortal men.

"Most importantly," she went on, "I have a lead on The Order's ancient Books of Doom, which not only contain the outline of their plans for world domination, but are supposed to be possessed of mystical power themselves."

Kane snorted. If he had a dollar for every time one of The Order had assured them that those books had finally been found... well, come to that, thanks to his superhuman abilities, Kane had a good deal more dollars than that--in fact, he had the ability to acquire pretty much anything that suited him, which after a few decades can leave even an incarnated demon pretty jaded and bored.

He'd already begun to tune out the interviewer's questions, and her guest's responses, speculating instead on just what sort of things the redheaded journalist could do with those amazing lips of hers, when he heard Mab's cellphone chirp from the next room. In a moment, the room filled with her scent that had driven more than one mortal man and woman to lust-crazed insanity. She seemed to pause for a moment, regarding the blond captive still trembling and helpless, then turned to her brother.

"It's for you." The tiny cellphone floated toward Kane, lightly grasped in the long tresses of Mab's silky dark hair.

Mab's prehensile hair, Kane mused, as his sister's enchanted tresses settled themselves back to waist-length. Yet another amazing power going to waste. He started to glower at his sister, but as always found himself softening at the sight of her beautiful face: today, it was alight with anticipation in a way he rarely saw unless she was tormenting a helpless captive. Instead, he put the phone to his ear and grunted.

"Kane, this is Archon Five." The voice on the other end of the phone boomed artificially.

"Carl, turn off that stupid voice-enhancer. You sound like a kid trick-or-treating as Darth Vader."

"I am Archon Five!" the voice boomed back.

"Knock it off. Until you clowns figure out some way to give my sister a personality transplant, you're Carl Kretchmar, and your sporting-goods store there in Bayonne is nearly in receivership."

There was a pause on the line, and Kane fully expected the insults to bring the conversation to a quick halt. He was disappointed, then, when the man resumed speaking, though in his normal voice.

"Kane, Mab tells me you were both watching that program. Interesting, no?"

"It is a bit. I was surprised she knows so much. Time to eliminate her?"

"Not at all," the man responded. "She clearly has sources even better than our own. I think we need to find out exactly what she knows, and where our Books can be found."

"So you can conquer the world, right?" The boredom in Kane's voice seemed not to ruffle the man.

"Kane, has it never occurred to you to wonder just HOW those Books can aid us?"

"Not particularly, no."

"What is the one element our plans lack?"

"My sister," Kane grunted.

"No." The phone radiated the man's smugness. "Your sister in a state of mental and physical balance."

Kane paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that those Books, if they are all found intact, have the means to restore the imbalance that curses her, and our cause. Find those books, and Mab can not only become more powerful, but completely sane."

It was quiet in the room, save for the whimpering of the gagged captive, and Mab's excited breathing.

Is it possible? That these Books can restore her? No, not restore--can give her the sanity and stability she has always lacked? And allow The Order to finally quit spinning its wheels and do something?

After nearly a full minute of silence, Kane told his caller, "Give me a day to plan something. I'll call you when we're ready." He barely heard Archon Five put his voice-changer back on to sign off.

He tossed the phone back to Mab, who caught it with the tendrils that swirled out of her glossy waist-length mane, and deposited it down the front of the black leather bustier she was sporting; Kane was never sure whether she'd turn up in a business suit, bikini, or full-out S&M gear.

She turned as if to speak to her brother, when her eye once more lit on the bound captive, and for the moment it was as if she and the prisoner were the only two people in the world. She bent down, her dark eyes drinking in the sweat-stained face and spreadeagled limbs. Kane hadn't stripped the prisoner yet, but pale flesh did peek through where her costume had been torn during their fight, and Mab allowed tresses of her hair to lightly caress the quivering girl, stroking her, watching the reaction: the blonde's eyes widened as she suddenly started to feel herself consumed with a lust that frightened and disgusted her--but that she was powerless to deny.

Mab licked her lips, and almost without thinking began to calculate just how long it would take her to turn this helpless beauty into a quivering mass of sexual desire. She was starting to run her long fingernails along the girl's thigh when she heard Kane shift in his chair.

Mab abruptly stood up, her eyes bright, her face fully composed, as though the captive no longer existed.

"Well?"

Kane shook his head.

"They've been wrong before." He spoke gently to his sister, as if already trying to ease any disappointment.

"But I can feel it-they're NOT wrong! This time I can achieve my destiny!"

"If you can remember what that is for more than five minutes at a time, in between molesting helpless superheroines."

"I'm not picky," Mab giggled. "I'm perfectly happy to molest the heroes, too."

Kane rolled his eyes. "You see? You're already thinking about..."

He broke off as Mab gazed now at the television. Kate Cutler was wrapping up her presentation. Mab's voice was breathy.

"She's delicious."

"So's this one," Kane nodded at the bound captive, "and she's actually here now. So if you don't mind..."

"Kane!" Mab's voice lost its dreamy quality, and her eyes seemed to harden to points of stone. "We need to find that journalist." Her smile was hard and cold. "I have so many ways of making her tell us what we want to know that I can barely decide which to start with. You will find her, we will take her, she will lead us to the Books of Doom... and then, if I'm feeling generous, you can have fun with her before we dispose of her."

Kane sighed. It was one of the wilder goose chases that The Order had sent them on, but if there truly was hope for Mab's condition....

"In the morning, then," he nodded. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get started, since you've got this one so warmed up already."

And it was true: Mab's attentions had brought the bound blonde to a height of sexual need that had her straining against her bonds, not for escape, but for release--climactic release. And Kane was damned if he wanted to waste that opportunity.

"In the morning, then." Mab smiled down at the captive. "Treat my brother well tonight, slut. Keep him happy, and maybe after he's done he'll even sell you somewhere they actually speak English." With a light laugh, she turned and left, her silken mane dancing in the light as it caressed her leather-clad backside.

Chapter Two

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