Chapter 10
Wong’s robes were covered in dirt like someone had used him as a duster on the ceiling fans. He tossed something in America’s direction. She caught it, barely, and then felt her cheeks redden.
Her pin. She gulped and glanced back up at him, feeling her soul sink into her body.
“Stay out of my room.” Wong narrowed his eyes on her once before letting his face relax again.
Stephen frowned at the interaction. “Did I miss something?”
“Not important.” Wong waved his hand in the air and the red bound book appeared in his hands. “We have bigger problems.”
America quickly taped the gauze on Stephen’s forehead and sat beside him on the couch. “Great,” Stephen drawled sarcastically.
“Mordo may be working for the witch.” Wong snapped off the chains and let the book fall open before setting on the coffee table, kneeling across from them.
“As in, the Scarlet Witch? The dead one?” Stephen scowled as Wong flipped through the red inked pages. He didn't recognize it from the library, not even the Sorcerer Supreme’s restricted section.
“No body,” Wong reminded. America was silently panicking beside Stephen, wiping her hands against her jeans. “This is a book from the Dark Dimension.”
“What?” Stephen reeled.
“From Clea,” Wong said, as if that clarified things. “I should introduce you,” he added, absentmindedly. He turned the book over and pushed the book towards them.
America glanced at the symbols and recognized some from the pages in Wong’s desk. “A binding spell?” Stephen deadpanned. His tone was unamused.
Wong made an annoyed face. “Look closer, Strange.”
Stephen glanced from Wong back to the text, turning his head to the side and squinting his eyes. “Well that's not good. Does this mean--”
“I hope not.”
“Am I supposed to be following? Because I'm not following.” America looked between the two men.
Jabbing a scarred finger on the page, Stephen sighed and began to explain, “this is a ritual binding an Elder God to a host. More importantly, binding Chthon to someone in human form.”
America held her arms over her body. “Thats what happened with Wanda, I thought.”
“Wanda was corrupted,” Wong interjected, “by reading the Darkhold. This ritual would ensue his ressurection to the worldly state.”
The gears were turning in her head. Stephen could tell by the tiny line between her forehead. “Wait, but you read the Darkhold to dream walk. You didn't get corrupted....” America trailed off, looking at the book and then at Stephen, “Right?”
Uneasily, Stephen adjusted on the sofa. He couldn't outright lie to her now. He knew the moment was inevitable, he just hoped it would come at a time he had more information. “Not really.” He peered up at Wong briefly before looking back. “There was a small side effect-- dont freak out, okay?”
America’s stomach was somersaulting. She blinked and there between Stephen’s eyebrows was a red rimmed, light blue eye that batted its eyelid at her.
America proceeded to freak out.
She let out an immediate scream and moved quickly off the side of the couch, but she overestimated the length and toppled over the arm rest. An America sized thud came from the floor. One shoe was still hanging on the armrest.
Stephen was rubbing his temple as America hesitantly stood up again and sat beside him again, staring as it shifted attention around the room. “That came from reading the Darkhold?” Stephen nodded, feeling somewhat exposed with the third eye blinking freely. “Does it… do anything?” She had to physically hold herself back from trying to touch it.
He let out a grumble. “Other than give me a headache? Nothing for now,” he waved his hand over and the eye disappeared.
America chewed the inside of her cheek. The pinch of concern didn’t leave her face.
Seeming to pluck the thoughts out of America’s brain, Stephen added, “I chose to use the Darkhold.”
Her shoulders slouched and stared ahead at the red inked symbols. “Because of me,” she muttered just barely audible.
Stephen had opened his mouth but Wong beat him to it. “That was Strange’s choice. Not yours. We make sacrifices when necessary.”
This is the only way.
America nodded but wasn’t convinced. A tightness in her chest remained. She cleared her throat and gestured towards the book, “so this ritual would bind someone to the old, scary guy?”
Wong grunted in affirmation. “We’ve excavated the runes of Wundagore and did not find the Scarlet Witch.”
“Let’s say for a second that she did live through that, why would she want to bind herself to Chthon? She destroyed every version of the Darkhold.” Strange questioned. He could feel America bouncing her leg on the other side of him.
“Hm. Chthon would need someone powerful enough to live through the ritual.” Wong adjusted how he was kneeling. “If he is using her as a temporary host, she could be rejecting it.”
“So he’d be looking for a new host,” America offered, her bottom lip wedging between her teeth. “Maybe if we find out who he wants we can get the upper hand.”
There was an eery silence between the three of them. A light wind scrapped against one of the three portal doors, where a stormy sea crashed against black rocks.
“The Scarlet Witch is a Nexus Being. There's only one other one in existence in this world,” Wong explained carefully, letting his words soak. Stephen sat back against the sofa with a frustrated groan.
Then it clicked.
America raised her eyebrows and covered her mouth as an, “oh fuck,” came out. She dropped her hand and asked with a degree of bewilderment, “Me?”
“We won't let it happen,” Stephen is quick to promise. He pointed his attention back to Wong. “Mordor. How do you know he’s working for her?”
Gesturing towards the book, Wong explained, “the ritual requires three goblets, one of which we had in possession at Kamar-Taj.”
America’s mouth parted. She shook her head, “what does that mean? Had?”
“They took it.” Stephen stated flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, right above the cut and a blossoming bruise.
“Well this universe officially sucks,” America groaned, leaning back with her hands on her face.