Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Blackheart lay motionless.

Ever since Carter Slade had pinned him to the ground and unleashed the Penance Stare, he hadn’t twitched once.

His eyes had turned completely black.

Not glossy.

Not empty.

Just dull, charred black, like burnt cinders after the fire had gone out.

"Is it over?" Evenson murmured.

He frowned.

Then, almost immediately, the answer came to him.

"Looks like it is."

A strange sensation washed through him.

Something invisible had disappeared.

A chain he hadn’t even realized he was still wearing had quietly fallen away.

His contract with Mephisto.

The agreement that had bound him since the beginning of this affair no longer held any power over him.

There was only one explanation.

Blackheart was truly dead.

At last.

Evenson let out a long breath and looked toward Carter Slade, who still stood in Ghost Rider form.

"You know," he said, "how much longer are you planning to stand there looking dramatic?"

"Or more importantly..."

"How much longer can you?"

The flames surrounding Carter flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then they vanished.

The blazing Rider became an old man once more, white-haired and weathered.

He smiled faintly.

"My last transformation."

"I wanted to enjoy it a little longer."

He looked down at his trembling hands.

"But..."

"I suppose this is as far as I go."

There was no fear in his voice.

Only relief.

"So why come at all?" Evenson asked.

"You’ve been alive for nearly two centuries because of the Rider’s power."

"Without it..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

Death was already waiting.

"I’ve lived long enough," Carter replied calmly, speaking about his own life as casually as the weather.

"For a hundred and seventy years, I guarded that little cemetery."

"Never leaving."

"Never getting close to anyone."

"Every day wondering whether someone would discover the Contract and unleash Hell on Earth."

He laughed quietly.

"That isn’t living."

"That’s serving a sentence."

"The Ghost Rider itself is a curse," Evenson said.

"No past."

"No future."

He looked at the old man.

"Once I took the Contract away, your duty was finished."

"You could’ve spent another fifty or sixty years enjoying life."

"So why throw that away?"

Carter took a drink from the silver flask at his belt.

"If I’d wanted an easy life..."

"I would’ve handed the Contract to Mephisto a hundred and seventy years ago."

He wiped his mouth.

"I wasn’t willing to save myself by condemning everyone else."

Then he tapped the gold star pinned to his coat.

"I’m a Texas Ranger."

A crooked smile appeared beneath his white mustache.

"A good one."

Evenson snorted.

"That’s interesting."

"I heard you were awaiting execution for corruption."

Carter nearly choked on his drink.

"That wasn’t corruption!"

"The evidence locker at the station was full."

"I was just... temporarily storing the confiscated money at home."

He looked deeply offended.

"Honestly, I think Mephisto arranged that whole mess just to tempt me."

"I’m an honest lawman."

"Really?"

Evenson’s eyes drifted toward the old man’s flask.

Solid silver.

Large sapphire.

Expensive workmanship.

"...And an honest lawman could afford that?"

Carter looked at the flask, then scratched his head sheepishly.

"Fine."

"I may have been a little greedy."

"But when it came to the important things..."

"I always knew the difference between right and wrong."

"I’ll give you that."

Evenson shrugged.

"You were honest enough."

"Just not especially well-informed."

Truthfully, if Carter had surrendered the Contract all those years ago...

The thousand damned souls inside probably wouldn’t have changed the balance of Hell very much.

But the old man had never known that.

"What happened to the Contract?" Carter asked.

Evenson smiled.

"Asgard."

"It should be sitting somewhere inside Odin’s palace by now."

"If Mephisto wants it..."

"He’ll have to start a war with Asgard over a thousand souls."

"I doubt even he considers that a worthwhile trade."

"Asgard?"

Carter frowned.

It took him several seconds to place the name.

"You mean..."

"The place from Norse mythology?"

"Exactly."

Evenson nodded.

"If devils are real..."

"Then gods are allowed to be real too."

"...Fair enough."

Carter accepted the explanation.

Mostly.

It still felt strange.

The Devil made sense.

Jehovah made sense.

Norse gods somehow entering the same conversation still required a bit of mental adjustment.

"So..."

"The Contract is safe?"

"It is."

Evenson’s expression turned serious.

"I give you my word."

"Mephisto will never get it."

"Good."

Carter drained the last drop from his flask in one long swallow.

He tossed the empty container onto the ground.

"One more thing."

Evenson sighed.

"There’s another thing?"

"You’re dying."

"Can’t you just..."

"...rest?"

Carter smiled.

"We’ve still got unfinished business."

"...What?"

Evenson blinked.

Before he could react, Carter reached beneath his coat and produced a massive Winchester shotgun.

He leveled it directly at Evenson.

"...Hold on."

"...Hold on."

"What are you doing?"

"You shot me more than two hundred times."

Carter pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Boom.

"AAAGH!"

Evenson was blasted backward and crashed flat onto the ground.

That vindictive old man...

He’d really held onto that grudge.

Sure, Evenson had burned down his house...

Dragged him into direct sunlight...

Filled him with a couple hundred rounds...

And borrowed the Contract he’d protected for a century and a half.

But that had been four or five days ago!

Besides...

Warlocks didn’t steal things.

They simply acquired resources through unconventional negotiations.

Fortunately, Evenson had activated Demon Skin the instant he saw the shotgun.

The blast hurt.

A lot.

But not enough to do serious damage.

"You senile old fossil!"

Evenson sprang back to his feet.

"Get back here!"

He spun around once.

Twice.

Three times.

"...Where’d he go?"

Sif, who had been silently watching the entire exchange with growing amusement, pointed at the empty ground.

"He disappeared."

"The moment you hit the ground."

Evenson’s face twitched.

"...That old man timed his death perfectly?"

There could be only one explanation.

The Rider’s remaining power had finally run out.

Carter Slade had passed on.

Conveniently...

Just after getting his revenge.

Leaving Evenson with absolutely no way to return the favor.

"I was starting to admire his sacrifice."

Evenson sighed.

"Now I just think he’s shameless."

After a moment, he walked over to where Carter had been standing.

Something glinted on the ground.

He bent down and picked it up.

The silver flask.

Complete with its sapphire.

Evenson weighed it in his hand.

"...You know."

"I forgive him."

"This probably sells for at least a hundred grand."

He tucked the flask safely into his coat.

Satisfied.

"There."

He clapped his hands together.

"Everything’s finally finished."

"I think we’ve earned a drink."

"I wouldn’t object," Sif said.

Then she quietly pointed toward another part of the battlefield.

"But..."

"Are you absolutely certain everything is finished?"

Evenson rubbed his chin.

"Hm..."

"Now that you mention it..."

"I do feel like I’ve forgotten something."

In the distance...

Johnny Blaze was still being relentlessly beaten across the battlefield by the Destroyer.

The two combatants might as well have had the same thought.

You forgot about us... didn’t you?

...

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