“More Than a Feeling”
On instinct, Epiphany swung the car around in a sharp left turn down an alley just barely wide enough to accommodate it. Her headlights illuminated a man with a crowbar whose efforts to gain entrance to a shop through the back were almost certainly not due to a misplaced set of keys. Startled by the sudden blinding light, he fled. Epiphany smiled and allowed him to run. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be returning to a life of crime that evening.
Of course, it was more than just a feeling—it was a certainty, a bone-deep knowledge of the hidden order behind events that rang true to Epiphany even if she couldn’t articulate it. She didn’t have a conscious awareness of any of it; she couldn’t see a vision of that would-be criminal using the close call as a sign to rethink his life, or running away from her headlong into the arms of a police officer who would recognize his face from a mug sheet. She just had a sense that he wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. Epiphany pulled her car to a stop at the mouth of the alley, just moments before a bike messenger came hurtling past at twenty miles an hour.
It probably didn’t make her the easiest superhero to team up with. Even Doctor Magick didn’t operate on the same level of cosmic intuition that flowed around and through Epiphany’s link to the spirit planes. Epiphany could only imagine how she must sound to someone like WildRose or Harrier when she told them that she just went where the universe willed her to be. (Okay, so she didn’t exactly have to imagine in Harrier’s case. Even Epiphany had to admit that as explanations went for being in a sub-basement of the Kremlin in the middle of a military coup, “The universe led me here” was probably not a great one. But it wasn’t like she forced him to swear so loudly that he alerted the entire platoon.)
Epiphany pulled her car out, merging seamlessly with traffic without even glancing at the other cars, and took a route that brought her out into the suburbs on the south side of King’s Bayou. She didn’t recognize the neighborhood, but the size of the houses told her that she was probably entering the rarefied strata of King Bayou’s wealthy and powerful. She drove out past the six-figure homes into the seven-figure homes, her surroundings growing more empty as the city’s elite demanded more and more space to themselves. Then the public roads ran out altogether, to be replaced by gated private streets. That was where she pulled over.
Epiphany got out of the car and began walking, uncertain of her destination but feeling an irresistible tug from the southwest. She wandered aimlessly until she found a spot where a tree grew close to the stone wall that bordered the grounds of an estate, and swung herself up easily into its branches. Climbing along, she dropped down onto an immaculately-groomed lawn that led up to a large mansion. The lights were on, but Epiphany had a feeling that nobody was looking out in her direction right now. She sauntered across the grounds with casual ease.
As sometimes happened, she felt a momentary twinge of confusion as the everyday instincts she’d grown up with as Ursula Shipton collided with the mystic intuitions of Epiphany. She knew that even if the owner wasn’t home, a house this big must have a full staff of groundskeepers, cooks, butlers, maids, and all the other people who made a place like this run smoothly. It should have a security system—motion detectors, cameras, silent alarms, everything that kept the owner’s possessions out of the hands of thieves and burglars. Ursula was sure that she was going to be caught at any moment.
But Epiphany knew, on a level beyond human knowledge, that she had nothing at all to fear. The higher powers of existence whispered to her subconscious mind to keep walking, and Ursula had long ago learned to trust that instinctive voice far more than her mundane experiences. Letting her actions flow with the currents of the universe’s will had saved her life more times than Epiphany could count, and she’d long ago stopped trying to resist the voice of the cosmos in the back of her mind. She headed to a door on the veranda, and wasn’t surprised at all to find it open.
She headed through what looked to be a sitting room, and rounded a corner to find a young woman wearing a maid’s costume slumped at the base of a staircase. Epiphany rolled her over and gave her a shake, but she could already tell that the maid wasn’t waking up any time soon. Intuitively, she knew that the slumber was magically induced. “What is it with bored rich people and dabbling in the dark arts?” she muttered to herself, knowing that there were some questions that even mystic sagacity couldn’t answer. She left the maid propped up against a wall and stepped lightly up the stairs, easily avoiding every loose board and squeaking step.
She went up to the landing on the second floor and glanced down the long hallway. The mansion had more bedrooms than some apartment buildings she’d lived in, but Epiphany made her way quickly down to the fourth door on the left and eased it open, revealing a dimly-lit study that practically radiated eldritch power to her subconscious perceptions. There was a woman sitting at the desk, her back to the doorway, engrossed in a thick leather tome with vellum pages. Epiphany recognized her immediately, and not just on a magical level. “Dilettante,” she said, a sigh of weary resignation escaping her lips.
The woman known as the Dilettante turned, her lips quirking in a crooked grin as she took in the sight of Epiphany in the doorway. She hadn’t changed much since the last time Epiphany had crossed paths—she had a tiny streak of gray in her slicked-back dark hair, probably the legacy of her narrow escape from the Bone Merchants of Agadir, and she wore a pendant that glowed with an unearthly blue light and that clashed horribly with her trademark red suit. “Why, my dear Epiphany,” she said, her dark eyes glittering in the candlelight, “how perfectly lovely to see you again. You’ll have to excuse the state of the house, I’m afraid it isn’t mine. I found out that the owner was off in Mongolia bartering for some relics of Sagaan Khan, and I decided to pop in and see if he had anything interesting.”
Another sigh of involuntary frustration escaped Epiphany’s lips. “And if he returns early? Or has any mystic traps set to protect the fortune in magical artifacts accumulated here? Honestly, the items in this room could be more dangerous than a nuke in the wrong hands.” Epiphany was aware that her words were probably falling on deaf ears, but she couldn’t help herself. Dilettante wasn’t a bad person, just a scholar consumed with the pursuit of knowledge to the point of obsession. If she’d chosen any other field but black magic, it would probably be an admirable trait, or at least one that only risked her own life. Epiphany always felt like someday she might listen to reason.
But not today. “Oh, I have a few little baubles I picked up in Marrakesh to help with that,” she said, her smile widening. “The Needle of Rosamund helped to keep the staff occupied, and of course this little beauty—” She scooped up the pendant and held it loosely, the blue glow spilling out from between her fingers. “Well, it’s worked wonders to ferret out any nasty little surprises that might be waiting for me. I understand how you feel now, always being one step ahead of events. It’s quite intoxicating, really. Like the universe will simply catch you if you fall.”
Epiphany rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It’s nowhere near as simple as that,” she said, her voice betraying her frustration. “You think that I shape the forces of the universe to my will, but they really shape me. You can’t simply play with that kind of energy to steal whatever you want, not without risking unimaginable consequences.”
Dilettante only smiled, and Epiphany found herself infuriated by that grin to the point of lecturing the other woman like she was one of Ursula Shipton’s callow freshmen. “Nothing in magic is ever as simple as you think it is, Dilettante. You keep expecting this to be like physics or math, where all you need to do is work out the rules and everything becomes as predictable as an equation, but magic...” She waved her hands, trying to express concepts that she usually felt her way through unconsciously. “Magic fulfills a pattern of infinite complexity, ordered by higher beings beyond any human comprehension. It cannot be understood, only channeled. That’s what makes you so dangerous, to yourself as well as others. You think that your intellect can make you safe, but you’re playing with forces you can’t possibly grasp. Your knowledge is a candle in the darkness, but those other lights are distant stars.”
Irritatingly, Epiphany’s monologue seemed only to amuse her foe. “Oh, my dear little hedgehog,” she said, her voice dancing on the edge of laughter. “You know your one important thing, and of course you can’t help but look at this poor little fox who knows a great many things and think of my knowledge as tiny compared to yours. But let me ask you, Epiphany...what would you do, if I decided to fill my pockets with magical baubles and walk right out of here? How would you stop me?”
Epiphany decided she’d had enough. She knew from long experience that the sooner she stopped Dilettante from tampering with magic, the less involved the process of rescuing the foolish woman from the dangers of her own ignorance and the fewer innocents at risk. And intuitively, she knew just how to handle the situation. “Like this,” she said, pulling her top off and throwing it to the floor. A quick shimmy of her hips later, and the rest of her costume joined it.
Dilettante let out a peal of helpless laughter. “Oh my,” she said, leaning back in the chair and putting her free hand to her lips to stifle giggles. “You’ve certainly got me on the ropes now, don’t you?”
Epiphany felt it again as she slowly sank to her knees, that strange division of consciousness that she’d gotten used to blocking out. The human part of her that was Ursula Shipton understood that she was completely nude, kneeling on the floor with her head bowed in submission to her old enemy. She knew that she was crawling toward Dilettante with her ass swaying seductively in the air like a bitch in heat, her mouth watering in anticipation as she gazed at Dilettante’s slowly spreading legs. She was surrendering, not fighting, and surrendering with lewd and lascivious abandon at that.
But the higher elements of Epiphany’s will, the part of her spirit that was attuned to the very will of reality itself, knew its truths more deeply. And it knew this was the only possible course of action to take. The only way to defeat Dilettante was to kneel in front of her and nuzzle the crotch of her suit like an affectionate kitten. Epiphany simply had to trust in that powerful, mystic instinct that she had long ago trained herself to follow unquestioningly, and that instinct told her that reaching down to play with her pert breasts was exactly the right thing to do here.
Even so, the sheer intensity of the confusion prompted her to whimper out, “I don’t...what’s...happening to me...” before she helplessly spread her legs and pulled apart her labia to reveal her wet folds to Dilettante’s darkly gleaming stare. She felt saliva running down her chin, and she couldn’t look away from between Dilettante’s thighs.
“I believe I’m teaching you a valuable lesson about information security,” Dilettante said, unbuckling her belt and lifting her hips slightly to slide her trousers down around her ankles. “You see, attuning to the Well of Verthandi opened you up to signals from the higher powers of the universe, and you’ve...well, you’ve never really thought about those signals very much. About who they came from, or how they arrived in your extremely pretty head. It simply wasn’t important to you. They led you wisely and well, and so you’ve simply grown used to obeying them.”
In a flash of insight, Epiphany realized that Dilettante had left herself vulnerable—she had literally caught the other woman with her pants down. Seizing the advantage, she leaned in and rubbed her face against Dilettante’s musky cunt until Epiphany’s mouth was smeared with pussy juices. “But I’m familiar with more than magic. I studied the lore of the Well of Verthandi, and I came to realize that there were ways to introduce other signals into the spiritual plane you’ve opened yourself to. My signals.”
Epiphany felt Dilettante’s fingers tangle into her hair, pulling her deeper into the other woman’s slick and dripping pussy. Instinctively, she flicked her tongue over and over again against Dilettante’s clit. “And...oh, yes, dear, that’s lovely...and you know that everything that subconscious whisper tells you is true and right. The will of the universe itself. You can’t stand against the will of the universe, can you?”
Epiphany didn’t answer at first—her mouth was pressed against Dilettante’s wet opening, feverishly lapping up her taste and her scent—but then Dilettante pulled her head away by the hair, and she heard herself saying, “No, ma’am. I cannot stand against the will of the universe.” The part of her that was Ursula screamed that this time she had to, but it seemed so infinitesimally small next to the cosmic voice telling her to obey.
Dilettante pushed Epiphany’s head back down between her thighs. Helplessly, Epiphany began to lick once more. “The universe drew you to King’s Bayou, my dear. The universe drew you to this house, this room. The universe drew you to my wet cunt. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, pretty pet, doing precisely what the will of the cosmos wants you to do. Isn’t that right?”
Epiphany couldn’t answer, but she moaned her understanding into Dilettante’s clit. From the way the other woman’s juices gushed out all over Epiphany’s tongue and face, she knew she had answered exactly right.
“And this is only the beginning,” Dilettante said, once her hoarse moans finally subsided and she recovered her ability to speak. “As long as I wear this pendant, I can always send my thoughts through the medium of the spiritual plane, directly into your very soul. You’ll never be able to escape my will. Your submission will deepen into adoration, and your surrender will sap away any thought of resistance. Until you love me with every fiber of your being. It’s already happening, isn’t it?”
Epiphany lifted her head up just long enough to stare up at Dilettante with glazed, uncomprehending eyes and a face smeared with the other woman’s musk. “Yes, Mistress,” she whispered, feeling a shudder of ecstasy course through her entire body at the words. She returned to Dilettante’s pussy, unable to stay away. Her fingers were already instinctively teasing her own clit.
“Ohhhh...oh, I’m going to ravish your beautiful body,” Dilettante said, her hips bucking as she rode Epiphany’s face to another climax. “Going to love fucking you, teasing you, making you moan...touching you all over, getting my fill of your beautiful fucking oh fuck fuck fuck!” The words dissolved into a low growl of pleasure as she gushed her orgasm all over Epiphany’s eager mouth.
Dilettante panted for a long moment before finally resuming her train of thought. “And then,” she gasped, clearly still more than a little dazed by the afterglow, “we...we’ll empty this room. Between my pendant and your power, we’re in no danger. We’ll take it all. So much power...”
Epiphany broke away from her slow tease of Dilettante’s clit long enough to say, “Of course, Mistress.” She knew that it was the right thing to do. She was drifting on the currents of a higher knowledge, and that knowledge told her to trust Dilettante implicitly. Everything she planned—everything they planned together—came from a place of love, a pattern of infinite complexity that she didn’t need to understand. Only obey.
It felt so good to obey.
“And then,” Dilettante said, her voice husky with desire, “we’ll return them to their rightful owners. The fertility idols there, they’ll provide years of bountiful harvests when returned to the farmers of Botswana. And the talismans on that shelf, the Guardians of Mu have been fighting a desperate battle without them. If we can bring them back, we can save...save...” Dilettante shook her head in confusion. “I don’t...what’s...happening to me?”
“It’s the pendant,” Epiphany said, switching to her fingers to that she could play with her Mistress’s pussy and speak at the same time. “You opened a connection to the spiritual plane to tamper with my thoughts, but that connection flows both ways. You’re being shaped into a conduit for the workings of fate, just as I am, Mistress.” She shrugged. “I did try to warn you that you couldn’t simply tamper with that energy, not without consequences.”
“But I...no, I can still...” Dilettante reached up, trying to pull the pendant over her head and off, but Epiphany already knew deep down that it wouldn’t work. The universe had a different plan for the two of them, a plan forged in unbreakable bonds of love and affection, and it couldn’t be stopped by anything as fragile and malleable as one woman’s will. Epiphany strummed Dilettante’s clit until the other woman’s hand fell to her side in helpless bliss.
The two of them made love for what seemed like hours, with Epiphany sitting on Dilettante’s lap while the other woman played with her wet pussy until she screamed with ecstasy, but eventually their instincts told them it was time to leave. They carefully gathered the artifacts together and crept out of the house with ineffable grace, making their way back to Epiphany’s car just as they saw headlights in the distance. Luckily, Epiphany had parked just out of view of the road. They waited until the limousine passed through the mansion’s gates, then drove away without even turning their lights on.
Dilettante still seemed a little subdued, staring at her pendant with a rueful expression on her face. “I think I might owe you an apology, my little hedgehog,” she said. “All these years, and you tried to tell me your one important thing...and I never listened. Not even once.”
Epiphany reached over and ran her hand companionably down her new teammate’s shoulder. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about explanations with this one. “It’s okay, my sweet fox,” she said, taking Dilettante’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I think that the universe was just waiting for the right moment to bring us together.” She gave a little chuckle. “You and I, Mistress...we were meant to be.”