"She's gone?" the woman repeated. The group nodding, at Clea, who was glancing between the four of them, floating in her astral form. "All of you were there and you still managed to lose her?" she snapped,directing the question at Strange.
He glared at her, the tension between the two of them couldn't have even been cut with a knife. "We wouldn't have lost her, if I knew where she was, from the start. This-"
"Stephen." Jericho, AKA Doctor Voodoo started, his words falling on deaf ears.
"We wouldn't have even needed to find her, if you told me she even existed." Stephen continued, deathly calm voice rising steadily with each word.
"This isn't the time-"
"When is?!" Stephen shouted. "When were you planning on telling me, my daughter's been wandering around on Earth for the last fifteen years?! When were you planning on telling me you were even pregnant, Clea?!"
Clea pursed her lips, even though the astral form, the room could feel her rage radiating from her. 'My reasons were all for the protection of my child and you are in no position to judge me!'
"Well, considering you left our child, alone without any protection, without anybody knowing, I think I'm every position to judge your fantastic parenting!" Stephen retorted.
"She wasn't without protection, she has Vesper!"
"Then where the hell is she?!"
Zelma sighed knowing that the two would continue until nightfall if left alone, but she'd rather not incur the wrath of both of them. She had to admit, she didn't blame Stephen for being furious, after all they'd been though a lot the past two days.
TWO DAYS EARLIER:
She knew he had nightmares, more often than dreams, but he was very insistent that this was different.
"What do you mean?" Zelma asked, sliding one of the books in her hands into it's place. "There's something wrong with it." Stephen said, slamming the book shut, opening another one. "I can feel the difference."
"There's a difference between dreams and…not-dreams?" Zelma said, giving him a look from above. "I-No…There's a difference between my normal dreams and this one." Stephen explained, flipping through the pages. "It's like my mind, is forcing me, trying to tell me to pay attention to it."
"What happens in the dream?" Zelma asked, straightening the books in the shelves.
"There's a field," Stephen said, the slam from below, indicating he'd violently discarded of another book. "A field of flowers and there's trees and there's this girl. This little girl, a child," he said setting the book down. "And she's chasing these butterflies, and then one of them lands on her hand. And she's so happy, that it landed on her hand. That it chose her…then the sky darkens."
"The other butterflies, they all fly away. There's a shadow, and she starts screaming before it swallows her." Stephen said quietly, looking up at her. "Every time, I try to run to her, every time I try to help her, she gets further away, and I wake up."
Zelma paused. "Maybe you should see Ms. Hazel to do a palm reading."
He gave her an annoyed look. "You don't understand. There's something wrong. I can feel it."
She knew he'd probably chase this dream theory as far and as fast as he could, what she didn't expect was him not needing too.
Stephen had been sulking. He had taken any and every book on dreams, dream meaning, dream interpretations, nightmares, (even going as far as down to Nightmare's realm to if he had anything to do with it) it had the name, he had it stacked on his table.
"He can't possibly still think this is more than a dream." Zelma said; she and Wong watching him, flip through each one, fixating on one or two of them, before throwing them aside, and starting again.
"I doubt it's what the dream is," Wong said under his breath. "I believe it's more of what may be, a possibility."
"What do you mean possibility?" Zelma mumbled, edging closer to him, bending her head slightly. "He didn't mention?" Wong asked, his eyes still looking at Stephen. Zelma shook her head. Wong leaned over, whispering: "The girl that he sees, seems to bare a strong-likeness to him and to Clea."
"Oh." Zelma gasped, looking up at Strange. Wong nodded, the two sharing looks of sympathy, when looking back at him. "Never thought he'd want to be a dad," Zelma whispered back. Wong nodding in agreement. "Maybe he's lonely. Or maybe it's because he misses Clea." she theorised. "Or-"
"Stephen?" Wong said sharply, moving towards him. He'd gone stiff, completely ridged, eyes wide. "Stephen?" Wong said, taking his shoulders.
Just like that, he snapped back, whipping his head over his shoulder, stepping back, his tense form instantly putting Wong and Zelma on guard, their eyes sweeping around the sanctum.
"What happened?" Zelma asked, glancing at Stephen. He was still again, but she could see the gears turning in his head, before his face set, turning around marching out of the room.
"Hey! Stephen, what happened?" Zelma called.
He didn't answer.
"Okay, that's enough, all this fighting isn't going to help us find her." Wanda said over the noise. "Every moment wasted here, is a moment that she is still in danger."
Silence instantly blanketed the room. Wanda took a breath, looking to Clea. "What kind of protection spell did you put on her?"
'The strongest I could make. I created a spell specifically to prevent Sofia from being found by any powerful magical entities. Dormammu, Umar, Nightmare, Stephen-' she said, ignoring his scoff. 'I then cast another to severe mine and Stephen's magical connections from her. It was supposed to be unbreakable, she was never meant to be found.'
"Never?" Stephen asked, looking up at her. 'Never.' Clea repeated. 'Sofia wasn't supposed to be found, not unless it was absolutely necessary. It was for her own wellbeing.'
"Abandoning her and leaving her with a stranger rather than her own family was better for her wellbeing?" Stephen said, shaking his head. "Stephen. Not now." Jericho said calmly. Strange shaking his head, remaining silent.
'Sofia isn't just out child,' Clea said softly. 'She is also the child of two Sorcerer Supremes, one of the Dark Dimension. She was born into magic, she is steeped in it. And that is not necessarily a good thing. It makes her rare and dangerous.'
"Sorry, excuse me…" Sofia mumbled, weaving in and out of the sea of people. Breathing in the air of the petrol, people and dreams. This was New York after all.
'So your answer was to cast her out?'
She'd been to New York a total of twice in her life. First time was when she was a baby and had nothing to remember it by other than Vesper's word and. The second time, was when she was five, and played a nearby park and received her stuffed bear: Don-Don or Donna.
Vesper never liked New York, taking her nearly everywhere and anywhere, exploring more of the other cities and towns all over the whole, but not this city.
She was a stranger here.
'My answer was to keep her safe. You think I let her go because it was easy? Letting her go was the hardest decision of my life. I barely had my daughter before I had to send her away. And would have done it again. To keep her safe.'
Unfortunately now, wasn't the time for site-seeing. Digging in her jeans pocket, hoping and praying she had some money. She was too tired and hungry to risk the sling ring. The best bet was the bus to take her somewhere, and to use the sling ring somewhere else after that. Once she was safe, whatever that was, and rested. She'd find Vesper. It was a good plan.
Luck being, sorta, on her side, when she fished out a few crumpled notes.
"How'd the spell break?" Wanda asked, playing with her fingers. 'I don't know,' Clea said worriedly. "It may be my mother, any enemy from either of us could have suspected-'
"It was Sofia." Stephen said softly.
'What?'
"How-? That dream," Zelma gasped, making a move to adjust her hat, her hand trailing over it, biting her thumb instead. Stephen nodded. "What does that mean, she knows?" Zelma asked, glancing between them.
Sofia looked around, spotting a bus, stopping near her. Straightening her jacket, she jumped on, empting all of the money to the driver. The man giving her a ticket, with a smile. She gave him one back, tucking the ticket into her jacket pocket, sliding into a seat in the second row.
"Yeah, I don't think so, she didn't know who I was, considering our lovely meeting." he grumbled, still sour and sore after that. Zelma snorted, which she quickly covered as a cough. "I can sense her magic. It's faint, but its there." Stephen said quietly.
"She must have done something to…crack Clea's spell," Wanda said thoughtfully. "We can track her with that, considering the other spells didn't work before."
Sofia took a deep breath, looking around the bus. There were a few people scattered around. An old lady knitting in the row a behind her, on her left, two men at the back of the bus, a woman and her child in the middle and the driver.
"But, only if she uses magic again. Right?" Zelma said, her un-answered question, answered by the silence. "We can't wait that long." Jericho said instantly. "Agreed." Stephen said.
It looked perfectly safe. But she couldn't ignore the feeling that something was there. That something was going to jump out and stab in in the back. She glanced over her shoulder, the old lady with the knitting giving her a smile, continuing with what she was doing.
Sofia staring at the scarf that she was making, watching the needle weave in and out, in, out, in, out, in, out, in and the needle pierce the woman's hand.
"So what do we do?"
Nothing happened. The woman pulling the needle and continuing with what she was doing; as if the needle hadn't gone through her hand. She looked up at Sofia.
Sofia instantly turning around, staring at the city. They weren't people on her bus. They weren't people on her bus. And this bus wasn't going to anywhere safe. She looked up, her eyes fixating on the nearest bus stop.
Sofia got up, walking towards the driver. "Excuse me?" she asked, the driver turning offering her another smile. He looked normal, he looked harmless, but her instincts were screaming at her to leave. "I think you missed my stop." she said. The driver looking at her, his face was calm, but his eyes were blank.
"It's alright, I'll just get off here." Sofia said, making her way to the door. The bus driving past the stop, the doors locking.
"Sit down." The driver said, Sofia watching the rest of the passenger's shift in their seats. The woman with the knitting needles, the mother and child getting up.
"I really need to-"
"Sit down, child." The driver repeated, his eyes shifting from their brown to a deep purple, the skin around turning cracked and charred. "We're taking you home."
Thoughts? Thx for reading! :)
Till next time...