Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Damn it.

It really was them.

Evenson rubbed his left eye furiously. Kilrogg’s Eye had been destroyed while he was still maintaining the visual connection, and the backlash had sent a sharp stab of pain through his skull.

That woman had definitely done it on purpose.

"Ah!"

Someone suddenly pinched him hard around the waist.

Evenson jumped.

His little trick might have gone unnoticed by everyone else, but Clea was a mage. At this range, there was no hiding anything from her senses.

Curious about what had caught Evenson’s attention, she’d cast a scrying spell.

Naturally, she’d discovered the Eredar Twins.

"Did you invite them here?"

Clea’s voice was soft enough that only Evenson could hear it, but there was a dangerous smile in her tone.

"Explain yourself."

"Absolutely not!"

Evenson immediately shook his head.

"Then why are they here?"

Clea wasn’t buying it.

They were in Eastern Europe, practically on the opposite side of the planet from New York. Two demon women had traveled all this way and conveniently appeared right under their noses.

And Evenson expected her to believe it was a coincidence?

"I honestly have no idea!"

Evenson was suffering.

He genuinely hadn’t wanted the Eredar Twins anywhere near this operation. He had considered visiting them after everything here was finished, sure.

But not here.

And certainly not with Clea standing beside him.

The last time he’d encountered the twins, he still had no idea what game they were playing. They’d merely issued a warning and let him go.

But Evenson knew demons.

They held grudges.

And the smarter they were, the more creative they tended to get about holding them.

If the twins suddenly decided to settle their old score, Evenson had a feeling his life was about to become a supernatural revenge thriller.

Of course, sneaking off to see them behind Clea’s back probably wouldn’t end any better.

So either way, he was dead.

He’d spent years complaining that women never paid attention to him. Now he’d finally found himself surrounded by women, and apparently he’d accomplished it by putting several metaphorical axes over his own neck.

What a spectacular life choice.

Fine.

Evenson hardened his resolve.

Once he got home, he’d train.

He’d work through five pounds of practice problems every single day.

And once his cultivation... no, his magical training reached its peak, he’d make all these women acknowledge him properly.

He’d show them what true domestic authority looked like.

As long as they loved him and were willing to share him fairly, everything would work out.

Probably.

"I swear, what happened to you?"

Melinda lowered her binoculars and stood.

She turned around and immediately froze.

Evenson had an absolutely ridiculous expression on his face, accompanied by occasional sinister little chuckles.

Was he having some kind of mental breakdown from overtraining?

"What?" Evenson snapped, abruptly dragged out of his beautiful imaginary future. "Can’t a man have a little daydream?"

"It’s called a daydream for a reason."

Melinda folded her arms.

"Most of them aren’t particularly realistic. Thinking about them too much won’t do you any good."

"I was just trying to restore my psychological balance."

At this point, Evenson suspected dreaming was the only way his previous fantasy would ever become reality.

"And?"

Melinda rolled her eyes.

"Feeling balanced now?"

"Much better."

Evenson grinned.

Apparently, imagining himself finally establishing absolute authority over his household was enough to satisfy him.

His standards had fallen a long way.

"Good. Come take a look at our plan."

Melinda pulled out an aerial photograph of the ruins.

Several colored markings had been drawn across it.

"First, our aerial reconnaissance shows roughly one hundred armed mercenaries defending the site."

She pointed to the black markings.

"These are Guler’s men. Another hundred."

Her finger moved to a group marked in red.

"And these are Khun Sa’s people."

She pointed to the yellow markings.

"Chinese authorities hit him hard in the early nineties. He never fully recovered, but he still brought sixty men."

Melinda looked at the photograph.

"That puts them at roughly battalion strength, and they have heavy weapons."

She paused.

"I don’t know how capable the original hundred mercenaries are, but I can guarantee that Guler and Khun Sa’s anti-drug units are experienced killers."

The drug trade made obscene amounts of money.

It also carried obscene amounts of risk.

Nobody became a major player in that world without having the connections and firepower to survive.

"Meanwhile, we have twenty-three people."

Melinda shook her head.

"Even if we count them..."

She glanced toward Johnny and the others.

"That brings us to twenty-six."

"And the terrain is heavily against us."

She tapped the photograph again.

"The castle is surrounded by completely open ground. A daytime infiltration would be nearly impossible."

Her expression darkened.

"And at night..."

She sighed.

"Honestly, even a professional special-forces unit wouldn’t want to fight one of these anti-drug units in a nighttime engagement."

"Oh."

Evenson barely reacted.

"Then what?"

"I’m also worried about the noncombatants attending the ceremony."

Melinda narrowed her eyes.

"They’re servants of a demon, and they seem to belong to Locke’s inner circle. Who knows what kind of abilities they have? Black magic, perhaps?"

"That’s possible."

Clea spoke up.

"I can sense traces of dark magic. And today is the winter solstice. Their magic should be stronger than usual."

The winter solstice was supposedly the day when the sun was farthest from Earth, making dark magic especially powerful in the mortal world.

Whether that theory was actually true, Evenson had no idea.

It had never affected him before.

"They can actually use magic?"

Melinda’s eyes widened.

"How powerful are they?"

"Not very."

Evenson waved dismissively.

"They can’t do anything to me."

As far as Evenson was concerned, if the mages of Kamar-Taj were merely apprentices or low-level practitioners, the demon worshippers gathered below were barely qualified to perform stage magic.

"Not very?"

Melinda smiled.

She turned toward him with a meaningful look.

Evenson immediately sensed trouble.

"What?"

"I can’t call for reinforcements in time."

Melinda gestured toward their aircraft.

"And while this aircraft has enough firepower to flatten that entire area, bombing such a small target would defeat the purpose of rescuing the hostage and capturing Locke alive."

Her smile widened.

"So we’re asking you to handle it."

In other words, the army-clearing, jungle-cutting, enemy-base-assaulting, hostage-rescuing portion of the operation was apparently being outsourced to the resident warlock.

Everyone else could sit back and cheer.

"I knew it."

Evenson sighed.

Apparently, even as a warlock, there came a day when you had to carry an entire twenty-five-man raid.

"I’ll do it."

"No."

Clea suddenly interrupted him.

She held up a red marker and drew a strange symbol across the back of her right hand.

"This time, I’ll handle it."

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