It did not take Lucius long to find Sersi.
London was large only to people without the right tools. He already knew where to find Sersi, and thanks to the SMS God, she was actually there.
The low-budget reality warper was finishing her shift with the same mild, harmless air of a woman who could rearrange matter with a touch. Lucius watched from a distance and kept smiling to himself. Matter transmutation was close enough to reality warping to make his hands itch.
When she stepped out of the museum, she was not alone. A man and a little girl walked beside her. Devil's luck,' he murmured. 'To search for one and find two instead.' Now he has Temu level reality stone in the form of Sersi and a Loki 2.0 in the form of a little girl.
That improved the evening.
"Lovely," he muttered. "The whole discount family pack."
He followed them across London at a comfortable distance and stayed out of sight without much effort. His birds and bees were doing the following for him. If the spaghetti monster had shown up now, Lucius would have considered it a personal scheduling insult. Good thing there was still time.
Sersi, Sprite and the man stopped for drinks first. Then came food, because apparently the woman destined to get sacrificed tonight had decided pizza was a necessary prelude to a tragedy.
Lucius did not begrudge her that. Pizza had never offended him. Unless it was topped with pineapple.
The man got his kisses at the end of it. Sersi sent him off with the sort of warmth that made ordinary people believe the world was still arranged by feelings rather than predation. Then she and Sprite headed home.
Lucius followed.
Sprite was the only one whose instincts kept trying to claw at the right answer. The little pest turned invisible every so often, slipped off, circled back, and checked the pavement, the road, and the reflections in the dark shopfronts they passed.
Lucius approved of the caution while still finding her attempts annoying.
"Get to home already, you little bugger." He murmured on multiple occasions.
Sersi noticed the same tension and looked around once without finding anything suspicious.
"London feels worse lately," she murmured.
Sprite reappeared at her side.
"That's because it is."
Sersi gave a small, humourless smile.
"Yes, well, apparently every city now needs more noise, more men shouting into phones, and more tourists who walk in straight lines only when there's traffic."
Sprite glanced over one shoulder again.
"You keep trying to make that sound charming."
"It isn't charming." Sersi tucked her hands into her coat pockets. "It's merely frustrating to find some cultures more archaic than the Babylon of 575 BC in the streets of London nowadays. But that's precisely why they push forward. Multiculturalism is not a strength. Let's see how long it's going to take them to comprehend that."
Lucius nodded to her wisdom. He had first-hand experience on the topic.
They reached the house not long after.
It was a narrow two-storey house with predictable windows, enough privacy to make the occupants feel safe, and enough surrounding structure to let a ritual sit cleanly once the neighbourhood settled into sleep.
Lucius watched them go in, stayed invisible, and waited.
Waiting was the tedious part. Necessary, but still tedious.
The house lights shifted room by room. Movement slowed. At one point, Sprite reappeared in an upstairs window and stood there long enough that Lucius wondered whether she had smelled something wrong. Then she moved away, and the house quieted properly.
He did not start until the local time hit two in the morning.
Then he moved.
Telekinesis cut the sacrificial circle into the ground with perfect precision. The symbols etched themselves across stone, soil, and the thin decorative nonsense people laid in front of doors.
Lucius worked quickly and cleanly.
The final line closed.
He stepped onto the head symbol and drew one slow breath while fixing his mind and intent on exactly what mattered: both abilities, matter transmutation from Sersi, and Invisibility, illusion, sound and visual manipulation Sprite carried in her childlike body.
His focus narrowed until the rest of the night became irrelevant.
"Sacrifice," he whispered.
The ritual took.
Cosmic force hit him like a river made of knives, light, and authority. It ran through his nerves, down his spine, into blood, marrow, and the strange interior architecture of his existence as if somebody had cracked open the sky and poured order through him by force.
Lucius did not flinch.
He enjoyed it too much for that.
The sensation changed him in places ordinary language would only cheapen. Understanding of Matter slid into his mind with all the ages Sersi had accumulated. Perception of form deepened. Somewhere under the skin, the new theft settled and began making itself at home.
He held the circle a few seconds longer, just to make sure.
Then he let go.
The house remained, London remained, and the night stayed as silent as before.
Lucius teleported high into the sky above the city and stayed invisible there, suspended with the cold air rushing around him while the cosmic residue still wandered through his body.
He could feel it in his marrow.
"What a lovely day," he murmured.
Then he vanished back to New York.
--
Mystique arrived at the St. Regis in a respectable face and an expensive coat.
She crossed the lobby without hurry and stopped at reception with a calm smile that wealthy hotels existed to respond to.
"I'd like to contact Mr Lucius Noctis."
The receptionist answered with the practised warmth of somebody repeating a policy they had long since stopped questioning.
"Mr Noctis does not accept calls or unannounced visitors, ma'am. If you wish to request a meeting, you may contact his butler."
Mystique let the disappointment sit on her face for just the right amount of time, thanked the receptionist, and drifted away from the desk towards the lobby as though considering whether the effort was worth another minute.
Her gaze kept moving across staff, routes, doors, blind corners, and patterns.
She picked one of the female staff within seconds, timed the movement, and stepped behind a large vase positioned mainly to prove the hotel had money to waste on flowers that looked expensive and smelled of nothing.
One step later, the woman who emerged wore the staff member's face, haircut, posture, and uniform.
Mystique kept walking without pause and headed for the service areas.
The kitchens were louder, hotter, and far more useful than the reception.
Staff always knew more. The trick was making them talk without realising that was what they were doing.
Mystique listened first.
She lifted trays, crossed paths with actual employees, and let the place teach her its own hierarchy. The butler was mentioned more than once, the suite floor had special rules, Mr Noctis preferred not to be disturbed, Mr Noctis paid well, his visitors were strange, and he had no bodyguards like some of the other guests, though the Army had men outside often enough now that the distinction no longer felt relevant.
After a while, she started asking the right questions in the right tired voice about which lift service was used for the top suites, whether the butler stayed in the suite or moved between office and floor, whether the guest liked breakfast sent up or came down, whether he kept odd hours, and whether he had a routine.
Once she had enough, she waited for one of the actual staff to head towards the suite floor and tagged along with a trolley in hand.
No one stopped her.
-
Coulson was halfway through the paperwork from his previous week of damage control when the phone rang, and Fury's name lit up on the screen.
He answered at once.
"Sir."
"Have you handed over the deed and registrations to Noctis yet?"
Coulson looked at the folder beside him and answered honestly.
"Not yet."
Silence.
Then, "Why?"
"He pushed the meeting back."
"I know he pushed it back. That is why I am asking why it has not been un-pushed."
Coulson leaned back in the chair.
"Because every time we lean on him too hard, he invents a new way to punish the organisation for being impatient."
Fury's voice turned flatter.
"I am aware of the pattern."
"Then with respect, sir, so am I."
That bought him a brief, dangerous pause.
When Fury spoke again, the anger had been organised into the cold shape he preferred for professional use.
"Call him. Move the handover forward. I want the deed, the cars, and the apology package fully delivered before he decides he has another potion to release and another tremor to cause. The balance we have is already tender enough."
Coulson rubbed once at the bridge of his nose.
"Understood."
"And Coulson."
"Yes, sir?"
"When you speak to him, find out whether he has any new products in development that might devastate the upper echelons of civilisation before lunch."
Coulson looked at the phone for a second.
"I'll try to phrase that diplomatically."
"I don't care how you phrase it. I care whether he answers."
The line cut.
Coulson lowered the handset and sat with it for a moment.
Then he opened the folder, looked at the deed and registration documents, and muttered to himself.
"Hopefully, I will not be held hostage for another set of suits."
-
Lucius returned to the St. Regis invisible and in excellent spirits.
He swept the suite for surveillance before anything else because triumph did not excuse stupidity. The scan came back clean. No hidden microphones. No little black dots pretending to be decorative hardware. No recording devices waiting to make somebody else rich off his evening.
Satisfied, he dropped onto the sofa with the boneless ease of a man who had just committed a successful theft in addition to a little murder. Now thinking about it, is it still murder if the victims were already older than England?
He shrugged and took Bob out of inventory.
"Come to Daddy." He grinned and opened the lovely book.