"And there’s one last thing."
Evenson reached into his pack and produced a pair of cheap-looking black sunglasses.
He held them out proudly.
"I call these... Richter’s Cursed Sight. An item worthy of bearing my name. They can..."
"Cursed Sight?"
Peggy interrupted before he could finish.
She leaned in and examined the sunglasses from every angle.
After a long moment, she frowned.
"I may not have ordinary eyes anymore..."
She tapped one finger lightly against the green flames burning within her sockets.
"...but you do realize I’m not blind."
"Of course."
Evenson nodded earnestly.
"Not only can you see, you can see better than before."
"You perceive the true nature of things."
"Even souls."
"I’ve noticed."
Peggy nodded.
"For example..."
She looked at his hand.
"In my vision, your hand is completely black."
She paused.
"...Blacker than Nick Fury."
Evenson nearly exploded.
"It’s not black!"
"That’s Shadow magic!"
"There’s a difference!"
Comparing his hand to Fury’s legendary bad luck felt suspiciously close to placing a curse on him.
Peggy ignored the protest.
"Fine."
"Shadow magic."
She picked up the sunglasses again.
"My point is..."
"If my vision works perfectly, why exactly do I need these?"
"They’re not for blind people," Evenson replied.
"That wasn’t my question."
Peggy straightened up.
"I was referring to this."
She pointed at the price sticker.
"It says $3.20."
"..."
Without changing expression, Evenson calmly peeled the sticker off.
"That doesn’t stop me from giving them an impressive name."
He slipped the sunglasses onto Peggy’s face.
"Besides..."
"They hide those eyes of yours."
"Most people aren’t ready to have fel fire staring back at them."
Peggy adjusted the sunglasses experimentally.
"They don’t actually have any magical properties."
"Do they?"
Evenson immediately changed the subject.
"Well."
"That’s all the beginner equipment."
"I should clean up the ritual site."
"I knew it," Peggy muttered.
Still, she smoothed back her newly restored brown hair, adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, and walked outside.
Evenson had learned from experience.
The last time he’d summoned the Eredar Twins, he’d neglected to erase the traces of the ritual.
That mistake had attracted two dangerously curious young mages.
He wasn’t repeating it.
This transformation ritual had left behind even more unstable magical residue.
If an ordinary civilian wandered inside and started poking around...
...there was a decent chance the lingering fel energy would corrupt them.
A week later, London’s newspapers might be running headlines about Jack the Ripper returning after a century of occult training.
No.
Better to eliminate every trace.
Once the warehouse had been thoroughly cleansed, Evenson walked toward a table tucked into one corner.
A locked box rested on top.
Inside lay the ritual’s final secret.
He withdrew an old brass key, slid it into the lock, and turned it.
Hidden springs clicked.
The lid slowly opened.
Inside rested a human heart.
It had long since been removed from its owner.
Yet intricate emerald runes carved throughout the interior of the box continued feeding it fel energy.
The heart still beat.
Slowly.
Steadily.
A closer inspection revealed a tiny puncture wound upon its surface.
Evenson stared at it for several moments before smiling faintly.
"Don’t blame me, Agent Carter."
"This is simply..."
"...an insurance policy."
He closed the lid and locked it again.
"Maybe I should bury it on some deserted island."
He considered the idea.
"I’d need a treasure map."
"And probably a compass."
After another moment’s thought, he shook his head.
No.
His enchanted backpack was safer than any island.
The box disappeared inside.
"All right."
"I’m finished."
Evenson climbed aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. command vehicle.
"I suppose Nick Fury can’t wait to hear my explanation."
He looked around.
"...Where’s Natasha?"
"Changing clothes."
Melinda answered from the driver’s seat.
"I never realized she was so particular about cleanliness."
"The mission ended, and she immediately went to get changed."
"New hobby, maybe."
Evenson answered absentmindedly.
Then he glanced sideways.
Sarah sat nearby looking extremely pleased with herself.
He lowered his voice.
"One of these days you’re going to scare her away."
Sarah turned her head with exaggerated innocence.
"What are you talking about?"
"We had a wonderful time together."
Evenson wisely chose not to ask for details.
The team soon reached the nearest airport and boarded a S.H.I.E.L.D. transport aircraft.
The overnight flight proved uneventful.
Sarah spent most of it finding excuses to sit next to Natasha.
Natasha spent most of it trying to avoid eye contact.
Tyler relaxed with a television, happily watching entertainment programs.
Tripsy, Doom, and Hubs gathered together to discuss improvements to their coordinated combat tactics after the previous battle.
Meanwhile, Peggy and Steve scarcely left each other’s side.
Curiously, even though the mission had ended, Captain America refused to remove his mask.
Judging by the swelling around one eye...
He probably had an excellent reason.
By morning, the aircraft landed aboard the flying S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.
The vessel was already cruising high above the clouds.
The welcoming committee was... impressive.
Agent Maria Hill personally led a large detachment of heavily armed soldiers who immediately surrounded the arriving group.
More specifically...
They surrounded Evenson and his followers.
Hill greeted Peggy with impeccable professionalism.
"Agent Carter."
"It is an honor to welcome you aboard the Helicarrier."
Then she turned toward Evenson.
Her expression became icy.
"You."
"The Director wants to see you immediately."
"He’s waiting for your explanation."
Evenson shrugged.
"Quite a dramatic change in attitude."
There wasn’t much choice.
He started walking toward Fury’s office.
Peggy immediately fell into step beside him.
She insisted on accompanying him.
No one dared object.
Level Eight?
Level Nine?
Meaningless.
She was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founders.
Founders outranked numbers.
Halfway there, Evenson spotted a familiar face.
Black hair threaded with gray.
A weary expression.
A wrinkled blue shirt tucked into brown trousers.
Glasses gave him the appearance of an exhausted university professor.
Evenson knew better.
When this man lost his temper...
Entire city blocks suffered.
"Bruce Banner."
Evenson stopped to greet him.
Banner looked puzzled.
Then recognition slowly dawned.
"You..."
"The warlock from Harlem."
The man who had killed the Abomination.
Banner smiled.
"So that’s why Fury is comfortable letting me walk around this ship."
He glanced at Evenson.
"You’re here."
He had witnessed Evenson’s strength firsthand.
If the Hulk lost control...
There was at least one person aboard capable of stopping him.
"That’s me."
Evenson grinned.
"Though I’m not here to keep you in line."
He gestured toward the heavily armed escort surrounding him.
"Judging by appearances..."
"I’m under supervision myself."
Banner looked at the soldiers.
Then back at Evenson.
He chuckled.
Neither of them believed a few rifles would matter if either one decided to cause trouble.
Evenson studied Banner carefully.
"You don’t look great."
"I’m fine."
Banner answered automatically.
"No."
Evenson frowned.
"You’ve aged."
"A lot."
It hadn’t been that long since Harlem.
Yet the once youthful scientist now looked years older.
Stress had carved itself across his face.
Banner sighed.
"You know..."
"Comments like that are enough to make me angry."
Evenson walked past him without looking back.
"Oh, please."
"You spent months hiding out in India without losing your temper."
"If that didn’t do it..."
"I’m not sure anything can."
Banner stood there for a moment before laughing quietly to himself.
The warlock wasn’t wrong.
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