"She said his wife had been there."
"Lucy Bauer?" Wanda flinched at the name. She hadn't expected to find a clue to that spirit so easily. Sitting behind the wheel, Robbie Reyes glanced toward the passenger seat—clearly, the name mentioned by Elias Morrow had caught his attention. Wanda raised her hand slightly to signal him to calm down. The last thing she wanted was for a flaming skeleton to appear in front of a bunch of cops. "You think Lucy Bauer would go to South Ridge Prison? I think you're just trying to send me away, Constantine. Is there something you don't want me to know?" Wanda said irritably. "I'm the lead on this mission."
"Yes, but you're too slow. If you'd moved quicker, we could've recovered those boxes containing the sealed spirits instead of letting S.H.I.E.L.D. take them." Constantine's calm criticism extinguished Wanda's anger instantly. She knew her performance had been subpar, though she still resented Constantine's rough methods.
"As for Joseph Bauer," the Royal Guard spoke before Wanda could respond, his tone sounding reluctant. Wanda immediately understood—there was only one person who could compel the Royal Guard to answer questions he otherwise wouldn't. "His soul was already corrupted. Your magical training was carefully structured to ensure you never gazed too deeply into the sea of souls. But Joseph Bauer was different. He recklessly absorbed knowledge, and now his soul is riddled with holes like the brain of a prion disease victim. He was beyond saving. Death was mercy."
"Is the master still in the command chain?" Wanda asked hopefully. Even though she knew Constantine could act as a representative of the Undying City's ruler in some cases, she preferred to hear these things directly from her teacher. It had been a long time since she'd heard that voice—warm, yet stern—the voice that once accompanied sweet red tea, fried bacon, and warm sunlight in a cold castle.
"Five minutes and twenty-six seconds ago, my lord withdrew from the command chain," Constantine replied coldly, shattering her hope and yanking her back to reality. Wanda realized she'd been having increasing trouble focusing lately, though she blamed it on her lack of meditation. Salomon had been very strict about that; daily meditation was mandatory for stabilizing the mind. But since Robbie's hospitalization, Wanda had been too busy helping take care of Gabe to keep up with her mental training. "He's currently on holiday at the Oxfordshire estate. If it weren't for the discovery of a soul corrupted by the Darkhold, I wouldn't have contacted him at all."
After ending the call, Wanda noticed Robbie Reyes staring at her face.
"What?" she asked casually, raising her eyebrows and slipping the phone back into her pocket. A nearby police officer waved, signaling Robbie to move the car—he was blocking the driveway. It was the second time this week that the LAPD had responded to an incident at LA General Hospital. The last time had been a fire in the ICU and a missing patient. This time, it was a straight-up murder. No suspects in either case had made the local police extremely irritable—especially the officers on support detail, who looked ready to pull over every passing car for questioning.
"Your face goes through so many expressions. I can tell—you really admire your teacher." Robbie started the car and turned around at the hospital gate. He gave her a teasing look. "You've mentioned him a lot, but I've never actually heard what he's like. I know Daisy doesn't have a high opinion of him. She thinks your teacher is cold and unfeeling. But I want to hear your version."
"It's a long story. It also involves my brother. If you've seen the news, then you know what the Avengers said publicly—that my brother and I were test subjects in HYDRA's human experiments…"
"You have a brother too?" Robbie looked surprised. "So your magic came from the experiments?"
"Yes, my brother—we're twins, so he's still my 'younger' brother no matter what. As for magic—no, that didn't come from the experiments. My teacher said I had the talent all along. He's my magic instructor, but he's also a mentor in life. He even bought me a penthouse in New York—the kind of high-rise apartment you see rich people live in on TV." Wanda tilted her head slightly. "We've got a while before we get to South Ridge Prison. I can tell you a bit about my teacher. But I promise, even if we get there, the story won't be done—because there's no one in the world wiser or warmer than him…"
"Who was on the phone?" Bayonetta pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and squinted at Salomon, who was lounging nearby.
"Constantine. He had a disagreement with Wanda," Salomon replied as he settled back into the recliner. "She didn't handle things very well, so I had Constantine relay a few words to her. Nothing serious."
One of the perks of owning a private estate was being able to sunbathe however one pleased.
Though it wasn't quite early summer yet, setting up artificial sunlight wasn't hard. Bayonetta and Jeanne had gotten it into their heads to try out bikini tan lines, so Salomon had spent the whole morning in the garage putting together a few makeshift solar devices using common tools and materials. He'd also ordered an entire crate of sunscreen—a wise move, considering how fast the estate's supply had run out. Bayonetta snapped her fingers, then lowered her sunglasses and lay back again.
"Turn up the heat, darling. You can't tan like this."
Salomon waved his hand, shooing away the Cheshire Cat—who was prowling through the grass with a fruit knife in its mouth—and Pegasus, who was leading a group of lambs in devouring the lawn. Then he lay back down next to Bayonetta and Jeanne.
"How's the Latveria operation coming along?" Bayonetta asked suddenly. "You've been working on it for months."
The question startled Salomon. Normally, the witch showed no interest in the Undying City's goals or operational logistics. Though he rarely kept secrets from her, she almost never asked about his work.
"Other than a lack of manpower, everything's fine."
In truth, that was a major problem—but Salomon didn't elaborate.
The city's academy system had only just begun running. The future officers and clerks were just now finishing their Latin language courses—the Undying City's official language. Their biggest worries were tomorrow's homework and physical training drills. The academy was growing fast, populated with children taken from war zones like Afghanistan, Syria, Yemen, and Iraq. These children were the future of the Undying City.
Salomon didn't know whether his ideological guidance would be enough to transform Latveria's guerrilla fighters. He didn't know if the city's propagandists—working with Victor von Doom—could unify and discipline them into a real army. All he could do was hope that his chosen allies would consolidate their power before the Western financial aristocracy made their move. Otherwise, the Undying City's military—strangers in a foreign land—would face overwhelming obstacles in Latveria.
He didn't want to show the world his full hand just yet. The city's greatest weakness was its lack of a basic industrial base. The factories established in Africa weren't enough to meet the growing demand for arms production. Salomon had to take Wakanda—only then could the Undying City break free from its dependency on external suppliers for industrial infrastructure.
He hoped Natasha Romanoff would keep the pressure on.
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