—You passed out. —
Wong's voice is soft as I open my eyes again. We are not in the store anymore, in fact, when I finally recognize the roof on top of me, I notice we are in my room. I'm laying on my bed, still in my suit, and Wong is standing in front of my bookshelf, checking it out.
I frown. —How long? —
—Two hours. —I try to stand up, but he signals me to stop. I comply. —Strange said you barely sleep. You should try to at least take a nap. It's probably the reason why you got exhausted, aside from the fact that you might've overworked yourself. Every kind of magic has its limits, are you aware of that? —
—Mine is not supposed to. —
He shrugs. —That's just life. —he starts walking to the door, —I'll be right back. I'm gonna make you a cup of tea, it'll help you rest. —
When he leaves, I put my hand up, trying to make a little spark out of magic; maybe a little flame, or a small proof of energy. It doesn't work. Instead, my arm cramps a little, and I need to shake it for a bit. That's not normal.
Suddenly, Maximoff appears at my open door. He is holding Django with one hand while the other carries two bags, and he smiles when he notices I'm awake.
—We were almost leaving but Strange said I could come and leave Django with you. Also I got some stuff for him since you probably don't know how to take care of a cat. —he says very quickly. He takes something out of one of the bags; it's like a green cushion. —This is a bed for him. Where do you want it? —
I point at a spot on the floor, and he places it there. He leaves Django on it. I nod at the bags. —Where did you get these? —
He takes out two bowls, —The store 'round the corner. I'd tell you the prices but I kinda stole everything. Don't tell the Professor. —oh. Okay. —Anyways, this is for food, —he shows me a bowl, —This is for water. Fresh water. —he puts them down, next to the cat's bed. Then, he grabs another product out of the bag. —And this is the food. Lemme see how much he should eat... —he mutters, reading the package, —Do you know what grams are? —
—Not really. —
As Maximoff continues reading, I notice Django, slowly but surely, crawling to the bottom of my bed in curiosity. He starts meowing.
Oh. Oh. Oh no.
Quickly, before Maximoff notices, I grab Django. I forgot animals have great senses. I also kind of forgot about the corpse under my bed. The cat meows in my direction, confused.
—Okay, so, like, half a cup these first months. He can't be that old. —Maximoff finally adds, completely unaware of the situation, or maybe just plain indifferent. He leaves the bag of food on the nightstand. —I feel like I'm missing something. —
—Well, uh, —I shrug, as Django starts biting my hand again, —I would tell you but, you know, —awkward chuckle, —I don't really know. —
He narrows his eyes at me for a moment. Then, he gets enlightened, —Oh, shit, of course! —
In a blink, he leaves and comes back, holding a new object. It's a box filled with sand. —Sand box! That's not the name, I just forgot the word. Imma leave it in the bathroom, with your permission. —he doesn't wait for it, straight up moving it there. —This is like his bathroom. I recommend you clean it once a week, or it can smell disgusting. —
I nod, —Alright. Is that all? —
—Yeah. Yeah, I think so. —he looks around for a moment, —Is this house actually magical? Scott was theorizing that but I don't trust his judgement. —when I nod, he raises his eyebrows. —Man, that's cool. Sometimes I like my job- Litter! —he snaps his fingers,
Litter? —What? —
—Litter box! That's the name. Who came up with that word? —
There's a knock on the open door; it's Wong, holding a steaming cup. He looks at Maximoff with a neutral face, and he moves aside, inviting him to leave. —Your team is leaving, Quicksilver, and Star needs to rest. —
Maximoff nods, completely changing his manner. —Okay sir, sorry. I was, uh, yeah. —he smiles, —I was leaving. Bye! —this time, he doesn't rush out - he walks normally. We can still hear him from the hall; —Nice house you got! All magic-ey and stuff! —
I chuckle. Wong sighs, rolling his eyes. —Changing topic, I don't understand how Strange let you keep that. —he signals at Django,
—I think you have a say in it, too. If you don't want him here and all. —
—Oh, don't worry, I like cats. Strange is the one who doesn't. He's not a fan of animals. —he leaves the cup, with its little plate under it, on the nightstand. —Drink this, the entire thing. —
The cup is almost filled to the brim, so I carefully grab it and take a sip of it, finding a good warm taste. As I continue drinking the tea, Django stands next to my legs and Wong quietly pets him.
When I'm halfway into the cup, I take a moment to ask, —How did it go? —
—We ended up exorcising everyone, it took about an hour. Very few people were hurt. They were all confused, but since there are two telepaths in the X-Men, they could easily erase their memories. Like what you did before. Keep drinking. —I do so while he continues speaking, —The door was definitely more active than the one at the Vatican, so we decided to do a protective spell on the building. It should keep any demons locked in there. —
I nod, finally finishing the cup. He grabs it from my hands, —Go to sleep now, for at least a few more hours. —
He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I completely lay back down on the bed.
Django starts crawling onto my stomach, his tiny claws barely latching to the materials of my suit. I change it into something similar to Strange's sleeping robes, and he can successfully move onto me, leaving some small holes on my shirt.
—Hello, boy. —he slowly walks up to my chest, and meows at me, —Too bad I can't understand you. Allspeak should extend to animals, in my opinion. —
I roll over to the side, holding him so he doesn't fall or get squished. Now on the pillow, at my eyes' level, he sits comfortably looking at me.
—Are you going to join me in my nap? That's very nice of you. —I purse my lips at him, and he hits my jaw with his paw, —Okay, that's not very nice. You're a rude little man. —he keeps softly hitting my cheek. It must be the way cats play.
I should just go to sleep. When I close my eyes, Django stops hitting me, and I can hear him settle down next to my face.
—Sweet dreams, Django. —
✩✩✩
I wake up again, and find Django licking my face. His tongue is rougher than I thought it would be. Carefully, I move him away, and look at the window; it's nighttime.
Watching me stand up, he starts meowing again, trying to leave the bed. I grab him, and place him on my shoulder, where he surprisingly stays put. He keeps meowing, —What? Are you hungry or something? —he meows again.
The bag of food is made of some kind of strong paper, which I cannot open with just my hands. I put my hand up - I wonder if the nap worked. I think of one of my daggers and, fortunately, it is conjured in my hand. I'm not too tired anymore. I use the dagger to open the top of the bag and walk over to the food bowl, pouring the pieces there.
Django jumps off my shoulder and goes straight for the food.
—You were hungry. Is the food that good? —making sure I don't interrupt him, I take one of the pieces, and put it in my mouth - oh. —It's not that good- It's definitely not that good. That's terrible, how can you eat that? —
Almost gagging, I end up swallowing the thing, shaking my head to get rid of the flavour. That's the worst food I have ever eaten, and look, I have eaten weird stuff.
I look at Django, —Bleh. I will leave you alone with your horrible snack. Don't do anything stupid. —
Quickly making sure there are no things that might hurt him in the room, I leave, closing the door. Now, where is everyone? Everyone's rooms are open and empty, and I cannot find them in the lobby either. The kitchen is my next option, and it's the right place; the siblings and the wizards are sitting at the table, looking at one of Barney's devices.
Wong notices me first, —You're late for dinner, but I left you food on the counter. —
—Thank you. I need to recover from cat food. —
As I grab my covered plate, which is full of macaroni and cheese, Victoire speaks up. —You... Did you try cat food? —
I sit down. —I will admit, it was not my smartest moment. —
There is a moment of silence.
—Did you sleep well? —Strange asks, as I pour some water for myself. I nod. —Good. I hope you have energy now, 'cause this is not stopping any soon. —when I frown at him, he continues, —We might've gotten a hint on Lucifer's son. More specifically, a coven related to him. —
I stop eating. He has a coven too?
—Witches are starting to go online. —he points at the screen of the device, which shows a long text, filled with words like "Wicca", "pagan", "spells", and the name of the coven; "The Wives of the Lord". Very discreet. —They have many posts bragging about their Lord and, somehow, they know about the doors to Hell. —
I sigh. —You want me to go there, correct? —
—We are going. If he's there we could finally put a stop to this. —
The wizards should not go there. It would not be smart. —If you go there, they could detect your magic and not collaborate. —
—But we won't let you go alone. —he crosses his arms, —What's your plan, then? —
I need someone who will not set off the alarms of the witches.