Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"Where am I?"

Evenson jolted awake, momentarily convinced he’d been dumped somewhere unfamiliar.

The last thing he remembered was the Asgardian liquor finally catching up with him... Nick Fury’s face suddenly appearing inches away... and then his stomach declaring war on the Director of SHIELD.

"On a plane to England."

He recognized the voice immediately.

Sarah.

Looking around, he found all five of his demons aboard. That wasn’t surprising. He’d intended to bring them to England anyway.

"What I don’t understand," he groaned, rubbing his temple, "is how I managed to board a plane after drinking myself unconscious."

He glanced around again.

"...And this definitely isn’t commercial."

It wasn’t even a passenger aircraft.

Cargo pallets lined the interior, and the "seat" he’d been sleeping on was little more than a padded wooden bench bolted to the floor.

Military transport.

"SHIELD transport," Sarah corrected with a yawn. "For some reason, that dark-skinned Director suddenly had us rounded up and shoved aboard this cargo plane that happened to be flying to England."

She smirked.

"It almost felt like he wanted you out of his sight as quickly as possible."

"...Yeah."

Evenson remembered exactly what had happened in Fury’s office.

"I can understand why."

He pressed both hands against his aching head.

"Seriously, what kind of alcohol was that? My skull still feels like it’s splitting open."

"Your head hurts," Sarah replied flatly, "because Director Fury grabbed you by the collar and threw you into the cargo bay."

She paused.

"You landed headfirst."

"...You’re kidding."

Now that she mentioned it...

This wasn’t the dull pounding of a hangover.

This was the sharp, localized pain of having introduced his forehead to military-grade flooring.

"Come on," Evenson protested. "Was that really necessary? All I did was throw up in his office."

Hubbs snorted.

"You didn’t just throw up in his office."

The hellhound flashed a toothy grin.

"I think you threw up on him."

"Really?"

"Trust my nose."

"...That explains a lot."

Tyler folded his massive arms.

"I wondered why, when he dragged you aboard, he seemed to be aiming for one of the engines."

"The engine?!"

Evenson stared.

That’s not revenge. That’s attempted murder.

Well...

That mystery was solved.

Unfortunately, another remained.

"Can someone explain this?"

He raised his swollen left hand.

A small, perfectly round hoofprint was stamped across the back of it.

"I’m pretty sure Nick Fury didn’t suddenly grow hooves."

He looked directly at Sarah.

There were only two beings aboard with hooves.

Sarah...

And Tyler.

Considering his hand was merely swollen instead of pulverized, Tyler was safely eliminated as a suspect.

"That’s entirely your own fault."

Tripsy, who had been unusually quiet until now, gave him the look normally reserved for irredeemable scoundrels.

"Miss Sarah took pity on you."

"She let you sleep with your head in her lap instead of on that wooden bench."

Evenson blinked.

"...That’s it?"

Sarah teased him physically all the time. Leaning against him, invading his personal space, casually draping herself over furniture beside him... it was just part of her personality.

Sure, she preferred women.

That had never stopped her from enjoying his embarrassment.

So why had she stomped his hand hard enough to leave a hoofprint?

"You weren’t just grabbing at her in your sleep," Tripsy continued with obvious delight.

"You kept mumbling..."

He grinned.

"’Claire... your chest isn’t as big as it looks...’"

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Everyone stared at Evenson.

He had fondled Sarah...

Then, apparently, complained that someone else’s chest was bigger.

No wonder she’d nearly broken his hand.

Evenson slowly lowered his head.

A thousand emotions condensed into a single heartfelt sentence.

"...What a tragedy."

Not because of the hoof.

Because he couldn’t remember the dream.

He sighed mournfully, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it in honor of the beautiful dream that had slipped forever beyond his reach.

The aircraft’s alarm immediately began screaming.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a commercial flight.

Otherwise, the first tourist attraction Evenson visited in England would have been a police station.

Smoking aboard any aircraft was an impressively terrible idea.

"What happened?"

Within seconds, two SHIELD agents hurried into the cargo hold.

Evenson calmly exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

"Nothing."

He gestured casually toward the ceiling.

"Probably a malfunction."

One of the agents glanced at the still-smoldering cigarette butt near Evenson’s boot.

If he’d kicked it just a little farther away...

Maybe that lie would have been convincing.

The two agents exchanged a look.

False alarm.

As they turned to leave, one stopped and frowned.

"...You know there’s a passenger cabin, right?"

Evenson froze.

"...There is?"

So that’s where these two had come from.

He slowly turned toward his demons with an expression of profound disappointment.

Really?

You all chose to sit in the cargo bay?

The five demons answered in perfect unison.

"Tch."

"How were we supposed to know?"

"It’s our first time on a plane."

...To be fair.

It was Evenson’s first time flying, too.

Once they moved into the passenger cabin, a middle-aged agent approached with a polite smile.

"John Garrett."

He extended a hand.

"Level Seven SHIELD agent."

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Consultant."

Garrett looked roughly the same age as Phil Coulson, though he carried himself with far more swagger.

Evenson searched his memory.

The name felt oddly familiar...

"This is Grant Ward."

Garrett gestured toward the younger man beside him.

"Level Four agent."

Ward appeared to be in his twenties. Tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably groomed.

Too impeccably groomed.

Evenson studied him for a second before smiling.

"You know, Ward..."

"I think you’d look better with a beard."

Ward blinked.

"...I’ll consider it."

"I appreciate constructive criticism."

"So." Evenson leaned back in his seat. "Did Fury assign the two of you to babysit me?"

"It isn’t like that."

Garrett shook his head.

"We already had an assignment in the United Kingdom."

"We’re simply catching the same flight."

That made sense.

Ward was talented, but as a Level Four agent he wasn’t important enough to monitor someone like Evenson.

Garrett had the rank, but he wasn’t one of Fury’s closest confidants.

This encounter really was just coincidence.

"Consultant..."

Garrett hesitated.

"There is something I’d like to ask."

He looked almost apologetic.

"Honestly, I don’t know how much SHIELD’s confidentiality rules apply to consultants."

"So if my question crosses a line, feel free not to answer."

Evenson nodded.

"Let’s hear it."

Garrett glanced at Ward.

"I know Director Fury gave you personnel files and hoped you would choose someone worthy of inheriting... your unique abilities."

He placed a hand on Ward’s shoulder.

"My subordinate was one of those candidates."

He met Evenson’s eyes.

"I’d like to know..."

"...did he catch your interest?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!