Justice League: The Heir of Hecate

A Summoning

Jadis stood some distance away from the circle, arms folded across her chest. She fixed Count Marakov with an irritated glare. The fact that they were already dealing with one powerful force- one they had managed to displease- was trouble enough. But now the Triumvirate was being summoned. She shivered despite the warmth of the room. Just thinking about those three was enough to invoke a sense of dread and fear.

"They'll want payment up front," Jadis remarked as candles were lit and arcane symbols were drawn on the floor of the library within their new base of operations- a dilapidated plantation nestled within the swamps of Louisiana.

"I'm aware of that," Marakov said without looking at her.

"And you're prepared to pay the price?"

"I am."

Jadis slapped a mosquito when it landed on her arm. "I hate the swamp," she muttered. But it wasn't just the swamp she despised. She had come to loathe MYSTIC, which she felt had become as deteriorated as the plantation they were now holed up in. There had been a time when MYSTIC was one of the most powerful forces in the world. A secret organization that manipulated and controlled from the shadows. But leadership had failed them, resulting in a decline in power and an increase in reliance on an assortment otherworldly beings.

When the Heir of Hecate had been born, she actually believed they may be able to finally enact their plan- the end of all suffering and the rise of witches. But then two of their own had turned traitor and stolen the baby away. Even so, Jadis had held onto the hope that the Heir would be recovered and they would have all they craved and more.

When he'd resurfaced after years spent missing, she'd hoped that he could be easily subdued and recruited. But the heir had proven himself headstrong and resourceful enough despite his lack of skill and knowledge- much to her annoyance. And now he was with the Justice League.

"It's time to summon them," Marakov declared once the correct markings had been made and all of the candles were lit.

Reluctantly, Jadis joined the circle. Life would have been far easier- and less dangerous- had they simply found the boy earlier or managed to subdue him. Now they had to rely on more dangerous beings aside from the one they promised so much to.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

Of course the risk of what they were doing far superseded money. If they failed to produce the heir for the ritual, the god would ensure that they suffered in death. The display Marakov had subjected Luke to on the Astral Plane was just a sample of what awaited them if they failed. Enlisting help was vital.

Marakov stood opposite from her in the circle and each member stilled their thoughts and focused on the invocation. Reaching deep within, they recited the spell in unison, each of them adding their power to its words, filling the room with magic. The air around them seemed to fracture and Jadis knew there was no turning back. The Triumvirate was coming.

Silence took the room as the candles simultaneously blew out. Then, one by one, the candles began to light themselves again. Sudden movement drew Marakov's attention to the opposite end of the circle and he watched as three of his disciples- Jadis, Shamir, and Pilar- stood stiffly, their arms pinned to their sides.

"Who are you to summon us?" Shamir asked in a ragged female voice. He gazed up, his eyes now pale.

"I am Count Marakov of MYSTIC."

Jadis moved next. "Why?"

"The Heir of Hecate..."

All three possessed witches hissed in unison.

"...has been born."

"A being bestowed with Hecate's gift of magic," Shamir said.

"Want us to kill the heir?" Pilar asked.

"No," Marakov said quickly. "I need you to help us find him."

"Hecate's Heir is too powerful," Pilar said.

"And we should know," Shimar added. "An heir killed us."

"This one isn't powerful," Marakov countered. "He's new to his powers. Unskilled."

Jadis licked her lips. "A brand new heir, ripe on the vine."

"And easy enough to capture," Marakov added.

"Then why can't you do it?" Jadis asked. "Why ask us to do your dirty work?"

Marakov swallowed the irritation at being powerless and dependent. "He's found and allied himself with powerful protectors. We can't get close without help."

"And then what? What will you do with him if you won't kill him?" Pilar asked.

"He is to be a vessel for Kinoculus," Marakov said.

The three figures showed visible surprise and delight at his words.

"You would pour the essence of Hecate's wicked, disgraced son into her heir," Shamir laughed.

"How sacrilegious," Jadis chuckled. "I like this plan."

"Then you'll help," Marakov said.

"But of course," Pilar said. "But we have a condition.

Marakov smiled. "Of course. Name it and it will be yours."

"Blood," Jadis hissed. "We demand sacrifice."

"You shall have it," Marakov promised.

The three of them looked at each other, then Jadis spoke. "These will do nicely."

Marakov's eyes widened but he knew better than to refuse them. Whatever it took, he had to garner Kinoculus's favor. And if some had to die for that...

"They are yours," he said with a bow of his head.

Simultaneously, all three of them reached up for their heads and gave them a violent pull and twist. Their bodies fell to the floor and their heads rolled across the circle, their faces looking up at Marakov with their hauntingly lifeless expressions. But he had little time to process the fact that he'd just sent Jadis, Shamir and Pilar to their deaths.

From the spilled blood, three female shapes began to form. They each rose up, all of them looking as if they were trapped beneath dark red bedsheets. Then, one by one, they tore through the blood, and became visible as the surviving members of MYSTIC cowered in fear.

To look upon the three women, one wouldn't imagine there was anything to fear. But Marakov had heard enough stories of the wickedness that lurked beneath their beauty. All three women were tall and statuesque as they stood naked before them, their flowing manes of thick and lustrous hair spilling down their backs. Though they were naked, they might as well have been wearing the finest attire, they stood so proudly.

"Sister of Sorrow...Sister of Agony...Sister of Fury," Marakov spoke reverently as he bowed, his disciples following suit. "We humbly implore you to aid us. In return, you will have a place in the Kinoculus's new order. We mean to purge this world of humans- there will be blood enough for you."

The three sisters looked to one another and shared a similar, animal grin.

"If you're lying to us, I'll feed you your own heart," Agony promised.

Marakov took in the raven-colored hair and sharp, severe features of the tallest sister. To her left, Sorrow- fair and pale-haired- nodded in agreement.

"I almost hope you're lying," Fury giggled as she tossed her vibrant and flame-colored hair over her shoulder. "It's been centuries since I fed a man his own heart. It's so fun using magic to keep them alive through the whole affair."

Marakov his his fear. "I am not lying."

The three sisters smiled once more.

"Then," Sorrow said, her voice hollow and tragic, "we will find the heir and bring him to you."

Agony nodded her head. "And when Kinoculus has what he wants and has merged with the heir, we will have the blood you promise."