The Mirror Dimension opened around Abel.
Facets of fragmented light formed a dome over the small park. The two condemned buildings on either side were cut by the seam and stretched into repeating reflections. The street outside was visible through the facets but bent out of true. Sound did not leave. Wind did not enter.
Thirty plus silhouettes in mustard and slate stood in a loose perimeter. Sling Ring light still cooling at their feet. At the center the Ghost Rider burned low. Flames drawn tight to bone. The chain around Johnny Blaze's torso ticked as links cooled and contracted.
Abel remained on the swing. One foot on the rubber seat. One foot on damp sand. His wand was not in his hand but his weight was centered to draw it in a half second if needed.
The Spirit of Vengeance did not look at Abel anymore. It looked at the Ancient One.
She had stepped forward three meters. Hands clasped behind her back. Bald head catching the fractured light. Her face held no threat and no plea. Only attention.
She said, "Rest assured. The matter of Miss Roxanne will be solved by us."
The flames around the skull leaned toward her voice. The sound that came back was not Johnny's. It was layered and hollow, as if spoken through heated iron.
The Spirit studied her for a long time. Then the skull tipped once. A nod.
"If you can guarantee Roxanne's safety, then I will join hands with you to deal with Blackheart," it said. "Midnight in three days. At the ruins of San Venganza, I will meet Blackheart there to trade the contract. I expect you to pull Roxanne before the battle starts"
The words were flat and absolute. A condition stated as a mechanism. Guarantee this input, receive this output.
The Ancient One answered without delay. She nodded with sincere weight.
"Rest assured. This matter is entrusted to me."
The Spirit made no further argument. It turned.
For a half second the dome's facet in front of it brightened. The Ancient One's left hand had moved two fingers. The facet thinned into a permeable membrane. The Spirit stepped through. The membrane sealed behind it as if it had never been permeable.
Outside the dome the fire on the motorcycle rose to full height. The skull became Johnny's face again. The transition was faster than before. Less convulsion. More familiarity. Johnny did not look back at the park. He swung a leg over the bike, engine caught with a guttural cough, and he left along the dark street without running the headlight.
The dome remained a heartbeat longer. Then the Ancient One turned to Abel.
"Master Abel, have you also decided to accompany us in three days?" She asked.
Abel stood from the swing. Sand fell from his sole. He brushed his palms once on his jeans. His posture was relaxed.
"I would very much like to witness Blackheart's strength," he said. "Furthermore as an ally I should take part in this operation. Is that not so?"
The Ancient One considered him. Looking into the magic power that had increased again, I nodded with a tranquil expression.
"That is well," she said. "I will have Kaecilius and Daniel come to fetch you at that time. San Venganza is not easy to find. It is covered by remnants of Mephisto's energy. With the two of them to guide you it will be a more pleasant trip."
"That works for me. Then I will thank you in advance," Abel said.
"As you said, we are allies," the Ancient One said and smiled a small smile.
She flicked her hand. A portal opened from her Sling Ring, edge sparking. The Masters began to step through in orderly pairs with no wasted motion.
Abel stepped to the side as the perimeter thinned. He tapped fists lightly with Kaecilius.
Daniel Drumm came next and clapped Abel's shoulder without a word. He displayed a look that said see you in three days and try not to get killed before then.
Wong gave him a flat look that contained an entire lecture about sleep. Abel answered with a raised eyebrow that contained an entire promise to ignore it. Wong shook his head and stepped through.
Mordo was last. Abel included him with a nod. Mordo returned it with precise neutrality, which was almost divine in its execution.
When the last portal ring shrank to a point and vanished, the facets of the Mirror Dimension folded inward. Light collapsed like sugar glass. Sound returned. A distant siren. The smell of wet concrete and trash from the alley. The park was again just a wasted park between two buildings waiting for demolition.
Abel stood there one more second to feel the change in air pressure. Then he walked out with his hands in his pockets, going to deliver the sweets that were promised to his best friend.
---
By the time Abel made it home, the sun had long gone down.The apartment door opened to warm light and the sound of a laugh track.
Theresa was on the couch in socks, hair half up, a bowl of chips at her elbow that she had not actually eaten. The television was playing Friends. A character was making a face of profound moral dilemma while holding a casserole.
Theresa turned her head. Her eyes did a quick inventory of her son from shoes to face.
"Hey," she said. "How's Sean doing?"
Abel toed off his shoes.
"Great," he said. "He also sends you his eternal gratitude for bestowing him one of the greatest delicacies of the lowly planet named cookies. I told him flattery will get him extra cookies. He believed me."
Theresa patted the couch cushion next to her. Abel sprawled beside her, attacking the bowl of chips that was loosely guarded. He watched three lines of dialogue happen on screen. A woman explained a betrayal with the intensity of a treaty negotiation.
"Okay but why is she upset about the hedge," Abel said. "She planted it. She watered it. Now she is shocked it grew."
"Because it is a metaphor, honey," Theresa said.
"It is a shrub," Abel said.
Theresa laughed and bumped his shoulder with hers. She reached over and flicked his forehead with a soft finger.
"See," she said. "My philosopher. Always practical."
Abel rubbed his forehead with theatrical suffering. He looked at her bowl reaching again.
"Are you actually going to eat those for once or are they structural support for the couch," he said.
"Watch the show with me," Theresa said. "One episode. Then you can go be mysterious in your room."
He stayed for one episode. He kept his commentary to a low mutter that made Theresa snort twice and shush him once while smiling.
When the credits rolled he stood, stretched, and kissed the top of her head.
"Need to write notes," he said. "Do not wait up."
"Sleep is not a suggestion," she said. "It is a requirement."
"Noted and filed under suggestions," he said.
Theresa pointed at him. He raised his hands in surrender and went to his room.
---
The door closed. The jacket came down on the bed until I had the energy to deal with it.
The desk lamp clicked on. Warm pool of light. The storage pouch lay on the desk. From it Abel took a notebook with a creased spine. The cover was soft from handling. He opened it to a fresh page. Pen uncapped.
He wrote until midnight new entries of data. Then slipped the notebook into the pouch. The pouch went back into the drawer. From the same space he took out a different thing and laid it on the desk under the lamp.
A natural white crystal. Uncut. About the length of a thumb joint. Milky at the edges, clear at the core. Impurities like frozen smoke near one pole. And beside it a sheaf of design drawings.
The drawings showed a necklace. A simple chain. A circular pendant. On the face of the crystal a dense lattice of ancient runes interlocking.
He started working on this protection for his mother after Mephisto had used her as a lever against him.
*I need more time to finish this.*
He took a small file with a wooden handle and a set of finer rasps. He set the crystal in a soft clamp lined with felt.
The crystal had come via Tony. Abel had asked for the best natural white topaz Tony's people could source. Tony had not asked why. He had just sent a box with three and a note that said to not lose them or he will put Pepper on my to teach me to not waste money as if I was a child that needed an adult to manage his birthday money.
This was the cleanest of the three. Very rare. And expensive enough that any mistakes would be very costly.
So he worked slowly.
The file made a soft hiss on each pass. A puff of white dust caught the lamplight and settled. He turned the clamp a quarter degree and filed again. The curve became a circle by accumulation of straight passes. His wrist locked. His breathing evened. The work was exactly the kind of technical functional task that settled his mind. Input, tool, output. No moral ambiguity. Only geometry.
Magic users could go a day or two without sleep if they did not fight. Abel could. That did not mean the body did not charge interest. After an hour, his shoulders ached. After two, his eyes began to feel dry. He did not stop. The pendant needed to be correct before it ever touched Theresa's skin. A flawed rune on a protective array was worse than no rune at all. He recalled the stories of researchers who crafted runes that transported them to the cosmos' heart, leaving no way to return. More reason for Abel's mind to be more careful with his delicate work.
He shaped the bezel edge into a smooth chamfer. He marked the rune lattice lightly with a graphite pencil first. Each rune checked against the reference sheet. Each line joined with no gap and no overlap. The lattice had to be continuous to carry load across the face.
Near one in the morning Theresa's television went off. House went quiet except for the fridge hum and the file's hiss.
Near three the crystal was a near perfect disc. The edge flowed under his thumb like still water. He set the file down and checked the disc against a circle template. Light showed a hair's gap at one point. He marked it, filed twice more, checked again. Gap closed.
He leaned back in the chair. His spine popped. He rotated his neck. Fatigue sat behind his eyes like fine sand.
*Enough. You still need to function in three days.*
He did not argue with that thought. He set the crystal back in its felt nest and covered it with a cloth. The drawings he stacked and slipped into a folder. The tools he wiped with a cloth and returned to their roll.
He stood. He stretched. The first light of morning was beginning to show as a thin line under the curtain. Pale. Cold. Dust in the air caught it and made it visible. His phone was dark on the desk.
Then it lit.
Ding.
The screen woke, a preview banner showed a name.
Tony.
Abel picked up the phone and swiped. The banner expanded. A message was waiting for him, sent presumably by J.A.R.V.I.S.
He read the first line and his tired face pulled into a small smirk despite the fatigue still present on his body.
He did not answer immediately. He set the phone down, took the crystal's cloth off again, checked the felt was not touching the freshly marked graphite lines, and covered it again. Practice and preparation done for tonight. The rest could be done after a nap.
The phone lit again. Another banner from the same name. Shorter this time. Impatient.
Abel picked it up with his other hand and finally typed back. Two thumbs. Outside the window the sun cleared the rooftops and laid a rectangle of light across the desk. It touched the edge of the crystal's cloth and stopped as if respecting the boundary.
Abel looked at that light, looked at his notes drawer, looked at the phone in his hand, and let out a quiet breath that was almost a laugh.
Three days to midnight. Enough time to sleep, to finish the array, to walk into San Venganza ruins with Kaecilius and Daniel and see what a Prince Of Hell would look like when he realized the paper in his hand was blank.
END CHAPTER 61