Although Solomon had spoken mildly when summing up her mistakes, their consequences, and the remedial measures, Wanda knew that beneath that calm tone lay a level of political maneuvering most people couldn't begin to imagine. To make the private talks and agreements happen in such a short time, the Immortal City had thrown down a staggering amount of resources.
And all of it had started because of her recklessness—and the half-finished recovery mission.
Even if Solomon didn't blame her, she felt deeply guilty herself, and the thought of soon having to face Stephanie Malick, head of the Ministry of the Interior, only made it worse. She had never had much contact with this daughter of Hydra, and just imagining apologizing to her was awkward enough. As she followed Solomon toward the cell, she was entirely preoccupied with how to open that conversation, completely ignoring the alchemical robots in the corridor, the shadow-hounds visible only to Second Sight, and the armed drones tucked into ceiling corners like roosting ravens.
If Solomon hadn't held her by the sleeve to keep her on the safe path, she might easily have been hit with a sudden, unexpected attack. He noticed she wasn't carrying a single triggered defensive spell, which was uncharacteristic—but it might simply be that she was so relaxed in his presence that her guard had dropped. Solomon frowned, considering, and decided to quietly, tactfully remind her when they were leaving, in a way that wouldn't wound her pride.
Every spellcaster entering a dangerous zone needed to be ready to counterattack—no matter who was standing beside them. Spellcasting wasn't like drawing a gun and pulling the trigger; each casting was like assembling the weapon from parts, and being able to instantly assemble and launch a counter-spell was still difficult for Wanda. She wasn't yet skilled enough to do it with her eyes closed. More than that, a caster's mind was never truly "relaxed." Even on vacation, Solomon kept his mental defenses active—this, alongside his cultivation of inner discipline, was one of the main reasons why his emotional swings had grown so rare with age. He was accustomed to the people around him maintaining calm; noisy outbursts were for the immature or for the apprentices back at Kamar-Taj.
In his eyes, Wanda Maximoff was still some distance from true mental mastery. Even so, her progress was astonishing; even the two future candidates for Kamar-Taj couldn't match her learning speed in this area. Solomon wouldn't blame her—she had much left to learn, and before that, every mistake she made would serve as nourishment. Just as Constantine needed ordinary human social experience to complete his personality, Wanda Maximoff needed the growth that came from error—just as Solomon himself had once learned from his own.
His claim to Wanda that he "had no time to waste" wasn't an exaggeration. On the very day he picked up young Lorna from her New York private school, he had also gone to the Avengers' base to have a long talk with Steve Rogers. Although he had never been fond of the Avengers as an organization, Captain Rogers—besides Natasha Romanoff—was the one Avenger Solomon had the closest contact with. First came a gift of books, then a discussion of ideals, all to recruit this World War II soldier.
As a staunch anti-fascist fighter, Solomon urged Steve Rogers to take a close look at the Immortal City's long-running operations across Eastern Europe, in order to clear up the misunderstanding left over from the East Coast earthquake. The assault transport boat would take him to eastern Ukraine, where he'd work alongside the Sisterhood's assault and heavy-weapons teams, their heavy-armor regiment, and the Fimbulwinter First Confidential Unit's special operations teams. Intelligence would reveal to him the truth and the money trails behind appalling acts of genocide.
Once Steve Rogers saw those atrocities—things he'd believed could never happen again—"Captain America" would become "Captain Anti-America." When the Avengers fell apart, the Immortal City would gain a like-minded ally, a banner of humanitarianism. Solomon wanted Rogers to be that "opposing voice" at his side, reminding him and the Immortal City not to become too harsh or cold in their methods.
Solomon laid his hand on the electronic lock outside the cell; maximum clearance immediately overrode the lower-level commands.
When the alloy door opened, Robbie Reyes was already standing in the center of his cell waiting for him. Compared to the man in the mission footage, he looked far more haggard now. Perhaps because of Solomon's imposing height, or for some other reason, the new Ghost Rider was visibly tense at their first meeting—until he saw Wanda Maximoff following behind Solomon, at which point he relaxed a little.
"I'm here to see you, Robbie Reyes. What do you want to know?"
Meanwhile, Lorna Dane sat at the breakfast table, wide-eyed, watching the little girl beside her reach out with greasy hands to take the crispy bacon from her plate. She knew her elder brother had left the manor in the early hours and returned only at breakfast. She'd thought he had gone to the Immortal City for official business and, as usual, would bring her back a gift. But this time, it seemed the "gift" was beyond what she'd expected—she hadn't known today's surprise would be a bacon thief in a dress.
The girl looked no more than five or six years old. According to her personal maid Dana, she was a child Solomon had carried off the assault transport boat. That meant she was an Immortal City child—likely a war orphan or the child of a prostitute, as most of those taken in by the Immortal City were. Young Lorna cast a glance at the two witches, whose calm expressions betrayed nothing. They lazily instructed the Sisterhood's maids to bring this voracious girl another breakfast, speaking no further, as indifferent as masters watching over a slave.
Such an attitude made young Lorna suspicious. "She's not really your illegitimate child, is she?"
"Of course not!" Jeanne scoffed at her. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have walked into this manor alive!"
"Her mother is a Catholic nun, her father a priest," Solomon said in Latin.
He had changed clothes and now sat beside the little girl, deftly cutting the slice of smoked brisket on her plate so she wouldn't grab it with her hands again. Of everyone present, only the girl couldn't understand Latin—yet she seemed to grasp his meaning. Especially after glancing at young Lorna, she appeared to realize something. Solomon tapped her lightly on the head with his knuckles to make her turn back to her plate and eat with proper manners. His ease with the gesture was telling; young Lorna recognized in it the same care he had once shown the children of the orphanage.
In all the Immortal City, there was no man with more experience caring for children than Solomon.
"A child born of a demon-possessed Catholic nun and a priest with demon's blood," he said. "After the Ghost Rider matter is settled, I'm going to visit those children. I had originally placed her in a convent under Tita's care, intending for her to join the Sisterhood when she grew up. But this child's growth is too fast, and she's too clever—the Sisterhood was caught off guard. She's easy enough to care for; her only 'flaw' is that her talent is too extraordinary. Dear Lorna, haven't you noticed she's been reading your thoughts?"
"So that's why you brought this little kitten back," Bayonetta said, pointing her table knife at the girl. "Her only good point is that she's not a crybaby."
"Darling, you were a crybaby when you were little," Solomon replied. "I remember it quite clearly."
"Mm-hmm, Cereza, he's caught you by the tail," Jeanne murmured so only Bayonetta could hear.
She noticeably quickened her eating, apparently planning to leave the "battlefield" and find a good spot to watch the fight unfold. Bayonetta, however, only smiled and shook her head, flicking Solomon a threatening glance from the corner of her eye. Jeanne's gaze flicked between them, and she quickly realized the two were hiding something from her.
"Dana, from now on this child is your apprentice," Solomon told the personal maid. "She will live under our eyes from now on. Teach her everything she should learn—everything."
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