He told her to never wear the necklace.
It wasn’t as if they’d never encountered magic before, so she didn’t have the excuse of thinking the warning was just a bunch of hokum meant to scare them. Honestly, Clark didn’t know *what* she was thinking, or what he was going to do now.
“Why is your wife forced to wear such a mere scrap of fabric?! Are you too poor to give her a proper dress?”
Clark sighed as the woman before him studied her reflection in the full-length mirror next to the closet. “No, your…ladyship. It’s just modern fash—”
“And why is her hair shorn, so?” She reached up to finger the strands of Lois’s latest haircut, grimacing in distaste.
“It’s just—”
“You’ve sold it to a wig-maker, haven’t you!” she accused.
“No, I—”
She whirled away from the mirror and poked him in the chest. “See here! I did not cross the vast expanse of time and the grave only to be shackled to a mere peasant!”
“Peasant?!” Clark echoed.
The woman sneered. It was an ugly expression on his wife’s face, and Clark hated this stranger for making him witness it. “My ‘heir’ was to be someone worthy, someone to whose lifestyle I would be accustomed!” She frowned at the mirror again, glaring at Lois’s reflection. “I should have that wizard executed if he weren’t already long dead!”
An idea formed in Clark’s head. “You know what? You’re absolutely right, my lady! It would be appalling to make such a…a *regal* woman like yourself live in these conditions. Maybe you should just take the necklace off and—”
She batted his hand away from the clasp. “Be still, Peasant! A life in squalor is nevertheless a life, and who knows how much longer I would have to wait for another opportunity.” Her fingers gently traced the medallion. “No, I shall simply have to make do. You may be a worse sow's ear than my first husband, but I’ve learned much over the ages. A whispered word here, a bit of poison there…” A cruel grin stretched across her face. “Much can be done, Peasant, even with the likes of you! Soon, you shall have your very own taste of power!”
Clark glared at her. “You think I want power?!” Another idea crept into his head. It was risky, but might be worth trying. “…You think I *need* power?” He gave her the most evil smirk he could manage, then floated a couple of feet from the floor.
She gasped. “What…what are you?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m not,” Clark said, infusing his voice with authority and command. “I’m not a peasant. Do you think I make my wife dress like this because I *can’t* get her nicer clothes? Do you think I *sold* her hair after cutting it off?”
She paled as the implications sank in. Clark darted around her at super-speed, appearing between her and the mirror in the blink of an eye. “You think you’ve seen power? Well, if you’re really planning to take my wife’s place…”
She reached behind her neck, then suddenly collapsed; the necklace falling to the floor in a tangled heap.
“…Lois?”
His wife moaned and struggled to her knees, one palm pressing against her forehead. “Clark?”
“Oh, Lois!” He knelt beside her and threw his arms around her.
Her own arms snaked around his shoulders. “Heh. You were really scary, just then. I’ve never been so glad that Martha and Jonathan raised you to be a good person. If you were even half the jerk you pretended to be…”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “That whole act actually made me sick to my stomach. I’m just glad she bought it and you’re okay!”
“I’m sorry too.” She sighed against him, pulling him closer. “No more haunted jewelry,” she promised.
The End
