The Coven
Copyright© 2026 by Phillip Marks
Part 3: An Afternoon in the Grove
Supernatural Sex Story: Part 3: An Afternoon in the Grove - A young man investigates a mysterious abandoned estate in his hometown and discovers a magical secret.
Caution: This Supernatural Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Magic Light Bond Group Sex Facial Oral Sex
Spring was coming to upstate New York. It was early but you could feel it. The edge on the cold air was gone. The snow was thinning and bits and pieces of grass could be seen. When the clouds rolled in it was as likely to be a cold harsh rain as snow and the snow was usually heavy and wet, the kind of snow that delighted children who could make forts and snowmen out of it.
I understood the words cold and harsh better now than I had before. It had been a month since our battle with the demon Xoglirath. We had won a victory but our losses were incredible. Three members were gone, not just their skills but their laughter, their love, and their joy was gone. That left a gap in the magical halls of Nebelgutt, a gap that could be filled but would forever make our home and our group different.
The loss of Thriza was just as painful. For me it was even more dramatic. We had lost our leader who had served as a teacher, a mentor, and a stabilizing presence for almost two and a half centuries. I had stepped in as best I could. I was able to serve in Thriza’s place but I could not replace her.
Change is good. It has to be because it is inevitable. Change cannot be stopped, it can only be accepted and embraced. It is harder to do this than to say the words but that is true with many things in life.
The world around us had moved on quickly. The plan that we had concocted with the police worked perfectly. Since there had been an officer related shooting the State Police had investigated the matter. Detective Mark Kronig and Detective Justin Duke had been placed upon administrative leave temporarily but were returned to full duty after the investigation was complete. Nobody was aware of Shelia Foster’s involvement, though I am sure she had stopped saying ‘science never lies.’ Again, change is good.
The murders in Albany had stopped. The guilty party, a ‘John Doe’ who was probably homeless and obviously mentally unstable was dead. The public stage was small enough in Albany that we avoided the typical fever-dream conspiracy theories though I am sure an independent documentary filmmaker would pick up on this case in a few years. None of this mattered, not today especially.
Today was the memorial for or fallen sisters.
Duane and I had built a crude wooden platform behind Nebelgutt near the treeline and placed dry firewood underneath it. He had soaked the wood with fire lighting fluid before the ceremony. We had placed Thriza’s magically preserved and carefully wrapped body atop the platform along with the burnt remains of Brielle, Sybil, and Annabelle. Four witches hats also stood in for our sisters.
Our entire group gathered: myself, Duane, Rayven, Coral, Franziska, Anna, Ella Rose, and Sabrine. Four of my sisters somberly placed roses on our makeshift funeral pyre. Duane had his arms around Rayven and Ella Rose. Sabrine and Anna clung to each other. Coral stood alone but she was near the stoic form of Franziska. I noted three other people standing at a respectful distance – they were not unexpected.
Then I spoke: “Sisters and brothers, we are gathered here to remember our friends. Brielle, Sybil, and Annabelle were comrades, lovers, sisters, and even more to all of us. They died with honor ... as warriors ... so that others who would never know them would be safe. Thriza was the same and more. She was a teacher, a friend ... almost like a mother to many of us. All will be missed.”
“Now, we return our friends to the universe from where we all come. We return them to the Sky, the Waters, the Fires, and the Earth. May the elements take their remains.” I lit a torch with the power of magic and touched it to the wood. The fire roared up immediately. We stood quietly and watched. The funeral pyre burned and slowly the flames died down. The members of the Coven drifted away.
I walked over to our visitors, Mark Kronig, Justin Duke, and Shelia Foster. I shook hands with the two detectives and Shelia briefly hugged me. “Thanks for making the trip guys,” I said.
“Of course,” said Shelia.
“It will get better Michael. I know that it doesn’t seem like that right now but trust me, it will get better,” said Justin.
“I know. We’re all getting together on the fourth floor tonight for a party of sorts. I think that will help get things back to normal,” I said.
“What will you do now?” asked Mark.
I smiled tightly. “Go forward,” I said. “We really need to focus upon recruitment now but everything else is pretty much intact. The Coven that I lead certainly won’t be exactly like the one that Thriza built but maybe that’s a good thing.”
“That sounds like the best plan that you can have,” commented Shelia.
“Thanks. I appreciate you three not saying anything or making trouble for us.”
“What could we say?” said Mark. ““Nobody would believe us anyway.” All four of us laughed a bit. I suddenly realized how good it felt to laugh again.
“How are things in Albany?” I asked.
“Just fine. We’re at one month demon free. I was thinking about putting up one of those signs like the one you see in factories about accidents but Internal Affairs might not like it,” said Justin.
We all laughed again.
Thanks again for making the trip and visiting us,” I said.
“No problem,” said Mark. He shook my hand again. “Stay in touch Michael. If you need anything, let us know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Our three visitors departed.
That night we all gathered in the common area on the fourth floor. I sent Duane into town to pick up pizza and the makings for some rum and cokes. Even Franziska made a point of joining us. It was a good gathering. We talked about our sisters. I heard some interesting stories about Thriza. The most important thing was that some of the humor came back, some of the girlish chatter that I had come to expect from my sisters returned. We were going to get better.
The next day I found myself sitting in Thriza’s old office transferring files and contacts from her laptop to mine. It was a slow process and still kind of painful for me. I had just completed moving a large batch of files when I heard a voice: “Good Morning Michael.”
The voice startled me. It was unfamiliar and had a slight accent. It was definitely female. I looked around, my eyes wide. “Nebelgutt?” I said softly.
“Your house is very magical but I don’t think it’s that magical,” said the same voice. “Even the Pyramids can’t talk. Believe me, I know.”
“Who’s there?” I demanded, a bit fearful.
There was a bright flash of magic centered on one of the chairs in the office. Bright might have been an understatement; it was almost blinding. I could feel the magic that suddenly spilled into the room. It was overwhelming.
As the magical brilliance faded a woman was sitting in the chair. She was wearing a long black dress with loose dolmen style sleeves and high-heeled boots. Her skin was dark. She looked Greek ... maybe ... no Middle Eastern or Persian. She had deep brown eyes that seemed to be able to pierce the soul. Her extremely long hair was black, jet black, yet a streak of white ran it’s length. She also had on a wide-brimmed sun hat, also black, with a lacy scarf tied around it. A short walking stick or cane was leaning against the chair, it’s wooden length deeply engraved. A large crystalline knob was at its end. She was smiling wryly at me. Her lips were a deep dark red.
“Who the fuck are you?!” I blurted, losing all sense of decorum for a moment.
“I go by the name Callistra. You couldn’t pronounce my real name unless you can speak Middle Persian.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “I can’t even say this is crazy...”
Callistra smiled broadly. “I have been watching you and your sisters. I am truly sorry for the loss of your comrades. It is unfortunate for so many to fall at once. Your battle with Xoglirath was impressive and your victory even more so. The fact that you coordinated things with the local constabulary is also quite interesting.”
“Okay. I’m guessing you’re a Cabalist. Why are you here?”
“Very good,” said Callistra. “I suppose you can consider me a welcoming committee of one. Does that make sense Michael?”
“It does. I read Thriza’s notes on the Cabal. She had some contacts and a vague understanding of what was going on but she had lots of guesses and conjecture.”
“That is understandable. Many in the Cabal consider the sexual magic that your Coven practices to be primitive and distasteful, akin to ancient hedge magics and the sacrificial practices of old times. I am not one of those narrow minded folk.”
“That’s good.”
“The Cabal’s Outer Circle is split into groups we call Lodges. They are the functional parts of our organization – the tip of the spear if you will. They all have cover identities, groups like fraternal orders, New Age enthusiasts, and even collegiate fraternities and sororities. We know of only three Covens like yours. The Cabal struggles to place your groups. You don’t follow our ranks or traditions. Your orgasmic magic doesn’t fit within our structures, though you certainly understand the basics of Hermetic Magic.”
“So the two unknown people that died with Thriza were Cabalists?”
“Oh yes,” said Callistra. “The fact that your Coven, under your leadership no less, stepped up and solved a magical crisis that is normally something the Cabal handles when we need to is, like I said before, impressive. This is what warrants my visit to you.”
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“That is an interesting question,” said Callistra. “I need you to understand the scope of what is going on around you Michael. I think we should change the venue of our conversation.” The Cabalist raised her hand and magic engulfed us.
We were suddenly in the Moonlit Grove. I recognized it immediately. It was little changed from what I had seen the last time I was here yet there were subtle differences. A gossamer moth, it’s wingspan the height of a man, fluttered across the moonlit meadow. You could almost see a sparkling trail behind the beautiful insect.
“I know this place,” I stammered, once again almost overwhelmed by the beauty of this location.
“Of course you do,” said Callistra, moving next to me. “I will speak to you here as one of my fellow Cabalists spoke to Thriza long ago.”
I turned to Callistra. “I don’t know what to do. I ... I’m not ready for this.”
“I disagree,” Callistra said sharply. “Thriza, for all her leadership faults, has handed you a very powerful tool, a tool that is still mostly intact. What will you do with that tool?”
“I don’t understand.”
Callistra paused for a bit before speaking, trying to find the words to make me understand. “Michael, by keeping her – your – Coven together, hidden, safe from the world, Thriza created a bond between it’s members that is stronger than I have even seen. In the Cabal, Lodges collapse all the time because of political infighting and petty disputes. That will never happen to your Coven. The fact that you were victorious against Xoglirath proves this.”
I thought about this for a moment. “And we practice sexual magic,” I said softly.
Callistra nodded. “Yes, all without jealousy. That makes your bond even stronger.”
“I still don’t know what to do.”
“You must make a decision. Will you continue Thriza’s isolation and live in the safety of Nebelgutt as the world roars past you? Will you enter the world and take your place as a cell in the magical conspiracy that hides in the shadows?”
“Magical conspiracy?”
Callistra smiled. “The Cabal has existed since man has. My predecessors used the ley lines of Egypt before the Pyramids harnessed their power and sent Alexander to India for our own purposes. We came to the purple in Rome too late to save the Empire but it was of little consequence. The Cabal quickly learned how to manipulate the great houses of Europe with power – kings needed wizards. Wizards did not need kings. When the bankers and robber barons replaced the kings it was even easier; all they wanted was money.”
“Wow,” I said softly. “The World Wars?”
“Even wizards can make mistakes Michael.” Callistra allowed that to sink in. “It is easy to control the world when the world doesn’t know it is being controlled. The truth goes even deeper than what I have told you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dominating the world is only the Cabal’s day job so to speak, one of our ... side hustles to put it in words you can understand. Our real job is hiding the truth from humanity.”
“The truth?”