"Let’s finish the preparations first."
Inside an abandoned factory on the outskirts of London, Evenson stood over the unconscious Peggy Carter.
"Go ahead."
"Start inscribing the fel runes."
His demons had scattered throughout London after they arrived. Only after receiving his summons had they regrouped here, a precaution meant to delay SHIELD from finding them.
The ritual would not tolerate interruptions.
"Yes, Boss."
Sarah immediately got to work.
Before magical tattoos could be applied, Peggy’s clothing had to be removed.
Fel runes weren’t something you painted on with ink.
Technically, you could draw them with a marker...
But then every bath became a gamble. Scrub a little too hard, erase half a rune, and you’d be standing in front of a mirror trying to redraw it yourself. If it happened on your back, you’d need someone else to help.
Even worse, imagine sweating through a fight and smearing a rune in the middle of combat.
That was an excellent way to die.
No.
Fel runes belonged beneath the skin.
Which meant Peggy Carter, who had lived nearly a century as a proper English lady, was about to receive enough arcane tattoos to make even the most heavily inked metal musician look understated.
Her tattoo artist didn’t inspire much confidence either.
Sarah held a dagger wreathed in emerald fel fire.
She looked far more like someone preparing for an execution than a cosmetic procedure.
To be fair...
Demons had always been rather straightforward.
Using a knife to inscribe magical tattoos was practically civilized by demonic standards.
Some demons preferred to carve the skin off entirely before replacing it, believing the pain helped them remember the power they’d earned.
"Honestly, Boss."
Sarah traced the first rune across Peggy’s skin.
The blade never pierced flesh.
Instead, the fel energy flowing from its edge branded glowing lines beneath the surface.
She shot Evenson a teasing grin.
"Sure you don’t want to do this yourself?"
"Opportunities like this don’t come along often."
The runes covered nearly the entire body.
Their creator had clearly placed little value on modesty.
More than once, the pattern crossed areas that polite society preferred not to discuss.
Evenson snorted.
"I am a man of impeccable morals."
"I’d never exploit someone in a vulnerable situation."
He folded his arms with perfect seriousness.
"...If she were sixty years younger, do you honestly think I’d have handed the job to you?"
Had Peggy been awake...
That sentence alone might have triggered another heart attack.
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"You really are hopeless."
"I have other matters to deal with."
Evenson glanced toward the far corner of the warehouse.
Sarah paused her work and looked the same way.
"True."
She sounded thoroughly annoyed.
"She’s definitely more eye-catching."
"I even improved the presentation."
"Focus on your work."
Evenson straightened his sleeves.
"If she refuses to cooperate..."
"...do whatever you think is necessary."
Sarah’s smile turned positively devilish.
"I hope she’s stubborn."
Evenson simply shook his head and walked across the room.
A woman sat tied securely to a chair.
She appeared to be in her mid-twenties.
Blonde hair was neatly pinned behind her head.
She wore an elegant black dress accented by a crimson ribbon.
Her Slavic features were striking, especially the bright red lipstick that made her smile almost impossible to ignore.
Her head hung limply, as though she had lost consciousness.
Evenson pulled up a chair and sat opposite her.
"Are you planning to keep pretending?"
The woman’s eyes opened.
"So you noticed."
Her voice carried the refined cadence of an American radio drama from the 1950s, soft enough to be inviting while her eyes shamelessly attempted to seduce him.
"You won’t escape."
Evenson’s expression never changed.
"I’ve already tested that."
She clicked her tongue.
"I have."
"I have to admit..."
"I didn’t expect such a... degrading restraint to be this effective."
Sarah had been responsible for the knots.
She even had a name for the style.
One that Evenson wisely decided not to repeat.
"It’s effective."
He shrugged.
"Experience helps."
He wasn’t exaggerating.
Sarah definitely hadn’t learned that particular technique after arriving on Earth.
Which implied she’d tied up an alarming number of non-human women back when she served the Burning Legion.
Unfortunately...
Judging by the faint twitch at the corner of the captive’s mouth...
She had completely misunderstood whose experience he meant.
Evenson ignored it.
"Let’s discuss your situation."
His voice turned cold.
"You weren’t part of my plans."
"So..."
"What exactly should I do with you?"
After reaching an agreement with Peggy, Evenson had helped the elderly woman toward the exit.
The moment they stepped outside, the owner of the clothing boutique across the street hurried toward them.
She seemed flustered.
Distracted.
As she passed, she stumbled directly into Evenson.
Something hard pressed against his ribs.
For the briefest instant, a ridiculous thought flashed through his mind.
...Seriously?
He looked down.
Relief.
It wasn’t what he’d feared.
It was a compact ladies’ pistol.
It even resembled the one Peggy kept hidden beneath her blanket.
Without changing expression, Evenson casually tapped the woman once.
Her finger lost all strength before she could pull the trigger.
She collapsed limply into his arms.
Since they were standing in the middle of a public street, making a scene seemed unwise.
So he simply carried her to the car.
Peggy’s car.
"Oh..."
Peggy chuckled from the back seat.
"Poor Dottie."
"She’s always the unlucky one whenever we meet."
"Your bodyguard?"
Evenson asked as he fastened his seatbelt and checked the rearview mirror.
"No."
Peggy smiled with surprising amusement while gently supporting the unconscious woman.
"She’s an... old friend."
"Old?"
Evenson glanced back.
"She certainly doesn’t look old."
Peggy brushed a loose strand of blonde hair away from the woman’s face.
"Dottie Underwood."
"If you’ve ever read my files..."
"You’ve seen that name."
"Dottie Underwood..."
Evenson searched his memory.
Then his eyes widened.
"Wait..."
"That Dottie Underwood?"
"She’s still alive?"
"And she hasn’t aged?"
"Of course."
Peggy gently stroked Dottie’s hair.
There was something almost affectionate in her expression.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter