Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Mephisto watched Evenson’s reaction, his eyes flickering with amusement before a wicked smile spread across his face.

With the smooth, exaggerated grace of a cat stalking across a stage, he sauntered over to the Eredar Twins.

"I have to say, ladies, I’ve met quite a few demons in my time."

He brought his hands together with a clap, flashing them an enormous grin.

"And nearly every last one of them was crude, ugly, irrational, and spectacularly stupid."

The Twins raised their eyebrows.

"But then I met you."

Mephisto began moving as though he were dancing, one hand sweeping upward as if he were presenting priceless works of art.

"I may have to reconsider everything I thought about demons. You two are a perfect marriage of savagery and elegance. The absolute pinnacle of violent beauty."

He spread his hands dramatically.

"Creatures as magnificent as you would make even God jealous."

"Thank you."

The Eredar Twins clearly enjoyed the compliment.

Aureseus, in particular, seemed to resonate with it.

"It’s been far too long since anyone appreciated our beauty and grace."

She cast a pointed glance toward Evenson.

"Especially lately. Someone’s eyesight seems to have deteriorated terribly."

A bead of sweat slid down Evenson’s forehead.

He had a distinct feeling that he was being insulted without anyone actually saying his name.

Surely they’re not talking about me.

Salora tilted her chin toward Mephisto.

"You’re not bad yourself. You’re funny, and you actually know how to dress."

Her eyes slid backward.

"Unlike certain people. Give him three sentences and you’ll already want to punch him. And his fashion sense is practically offensive."

Evenson felt another invisible arrow slam into his back.

What was wrong with his clothes?

A thirty-dollar shirt and fifty-dollar pants were perfectly respectable.

They were cheap, comfortable, and functional.

Why would anyone waste money on hand-tailored Italian wool suits when half of them couldn’t even survive a washing machine?

"That’s a shame."

Mephisto sighed theatrically.

"Beauty deserves to be appreciated."

He regarded the Twins with exaggerated admiration.

"To possess faces like yours and receive so little appreciation... truly tragic."

"Exactly."

Salora immediately nodded along.

"You know, I was just saying—"

"Enough!"

Evenson’s forehead throbbed.

His fel energy was churning in his veins, steadily climbing toward his head as he watched the three of them indulge in mutual flattery.

If this continued much longer, he was going to commit a felony.

He crossed the room in three quick steps and physically shoved Mephisto aside.

"You didn’t travel all the way here just to exchange compliments, did you?"

"How rude!"

Mephisto straightened his suit and glared at Evenson.

"I was having a conversation with your mistresses."

Although Evenson had explained his profession to Mephisto before, the devil had stubbornly decided that he was simply a demon-worshiping warlock.

And there were two extraordinarily powerful-looking demons standing right in front of him.

Worse, Evenson had just displayed exactly the sort of submissive behavior one might expect from a subordinate.

So, as far as Mephisto was concerned, it was obvious who held the authority.

"My mistresses?"

Evenson glanced at the Twins.

"No, no. That’s not—"

"Actually, we’re partners."

Salora placed one hand on Evenson’s shoulder and gave him a meaningful smile.

"We’re not his masters. Our relationship is equal."

She paused.

"Most of the time."

Despite how often the Twins teased Evenson in private and called him their pet, they had no intention of humiliating him in front of outsiders.

In fact, they were quietly pleased that he had just pushed Mephisto aside.

It was a sign that, at least where they were concerned, Evenson understood his place without actually allowing someone else to disrespect him.

"Oh?"

Mephisto’s eyebrows rose.

"So you’re equals?"

The answer seemed to surprise him.

Then his mouth curled into a sly smile.

"That’s interesting. Because I distinctly remember the first time I met this boy."

His gaze shifted to Evenson.

"He proudly declared that he was the master of a demon."

"Did I?"

Evenson immediately put on the most innocent expression he could manage.

"I absolutely never said anything like that."

"Kid..."

Mephisto gave him two small, pointed gestures with one finger.

"You know, I’ve been thinking. If you ever decided to build a career in Hell, you’d probably go very far."

"That’s kind of you."

Evenson’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"But for now, let’s settle our current transaction."

"Of course."

The instant business was mentioned, Mephisto’s attitude changed.

He didn’t revert to the severe, intimidating old-man persona Evenson remembered. Instead, he merely toned down the playful grin and became slightly more focused.

It still gave Evenson a strange impression.

Why does this feel less like negotiating with the Devil and more like buying a membership from a nightclub owner?

"Glamor and ambiguity are among my specialties."

Mephisto smiled proudly.

Then he looked at Evenson.

"But I do have one question. Why does every transaction we make with each other come with unfinished business?"

"Every transaction?"

Evenson’s eyes widened.

"Don’t make it sound like we’ve done this a hundred times. Including this one, this is only our second deal!"

"Two transactions."

Mephisto held up two fingers.

"Two transactions left with unresolved complications."

He smiled.

"That’s a one-hundred-percent failure rate."

Evenson inhaled sharply.

There was something wrong with that statement.

He just couldn’t immediately put his finger on what.

"I think I’ve done everything perfectly well. I completed every obligation specified in the contract."

"Yes."

Mephisto pursed his lips.

"And last time, you handed my contract for San Venganza over to the Asgardians."

He looked genuinely offended.

"That caused me a considerable loss."

"Technically."

Evenson tilted his head toward the sky.

"But you never specified that I had to hand the contract back to you."

He looked back at Mephisto.

"And unless I remember incorrectly, the agreement we made this time explicitly states that you can no longer pursue the matter of the San Venganza contract."

"Correct."

Mephisto nodded firmly.

"I’m no longer pursuing the previous transaction."

He raised a finger.

"But that doesn’t mean this transaction was clean."

"Such as?"

Evenson sighed.

He couldn’t be bothered arguing every point.

This time, Mephisto did have a legitimate complaint.

After all, Evenson had drained the power from the Son of Mephisto, Danny Ketch. If one traced that power back to its source, it ultimately belonged to Mephisto.

"There is one of my souls in your possession."

Mephisto’s voice became noticeably colder.

"My property."

He stared directly at Evenson.

"No one steals from me."

Evenson’s eyes shifted.

He knew exactly which soul Mephisto meant.

The priest who had led the monastery.

The soul he’d ended up with after everything had gone wrong.

Evenson planted his hands on his hips and lifted his chin.

"Watch your wording."

His tone immediately became indignant.

"Who said I stole anything?"

He jabbed a thumb toward himself.

"Did I break into your house and take it?"

"No."

"Did I rob you?"

"Not exactly."

"It was lying out there on the road!"

Evenson threw his hands wide.

"How was I supposed to know who owned it? I picked it up. That’s called finding something."

He pointed accusingly at Mephisto.

"Unless you have some kind of cosmic lost-and-found law I don’t know about, I haven’t committed a crime."

Mephisto stared at him.

Evenson stared back.

For a few seconds, neither man spoke.

Then the devil’s mouth slowly curled into a smile.

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