Seen, Unseen

Coulson and Melinda had not noticed at all when a book had appeared on the table. Its cover was etched with incomprehensible runes, and even just looking at the dark leather gave them a nauseatingly slick feeling, like human skin.

The moment they saw the book, Melinda and Coulson stared at it fixedly, their expressions turning vacant, as though all their attention had been drawn into it.

"Hey!" Only when Evenson gave a sharp shout did the two of them suddenly snap awake. "What did you see just now?" As he spoke, Evenson put the book away right before their eyes.

"Sorry, I spaced out just now. What did you say? Did I see something?" Coulson rubbed his dry eyes, strained from staring at the book. What was wrong with me? Spacing out during a mission was way too unprofessional. Then he saw Melinda looking at him in confusion.

"You don't remember? That book? The one that was just on the table?" Melinda asked incredulously.

"Remember what? What book? What are you talking about?" Coulson asked blankly. He was still wondering why, after zoning out for just a moment, it felt like he had missed an entire chunk of events.

Suddenly, Melinda shot to her feet, swiftly drew a pistol, and aimed it at Evenson. "Talk! What did you do to him?"

"Whoa, Melinda, what are you doing? Calm down." Coulson hurriedly stood up as well, trying to soothe Melinda after she suddenly drew her gun.

"He tampered with you!" Melinda refused to budge. "He tampered with your mind and muddled your consciousness." Then she turned to Evenson. "Listen, if you don't cut out your little tricks right now, I'll blow your brains out!"

"Mr. Richter?" Coulson drew his pistol too. Though he still did not understand what was happening, he trusted Melinda. "Can you explain this?"

Evenson raised his head and looked at the two with a helpless smile. "Weakness."

Thud. Bang. The two battle-hardened agents immediately collapsed into their chairs. Forget firing their guns—they felt as if even breathing required every ounce of their strength. They were Senior Agents, strong-willed and physically fit; if it had been an ordinary person, one Weakness Curse from Evenson would leave them without even the strength to make their heart beat.

"Woof." Hubbs, who had been basking in the sun nearby, picked up the two pistols that had fallen to the floor and said, "Dog food." Evenson gave it a kindly look, meaning, Go play.

Evenson took the guns and racked their slides. A bullet immediately popped out. "They were chambered? You really are cautious."

"Mr. Richter... this won't... end well for you," Coulson said with difficulty, slumped in his chair.

"Fuck you," Melinda said.

"I really didn't want things to turn out like this." Evenson was miserable too. The book he had taken out was not some Necronomicon at all. He had made that thing up on the spot and had no idea whether it even existed. If he really wanted to write one, he could probably cobble something together, but he did not have one right now. What he had taken out was the Compendium of Warlock Spells. His original thought had been that, unless he deliberately drew attention to it, Coulson and Melinda would never notice the book. Even if it sat right on the table, they would unconsciously overlook it. Once he distracted them and put it away, they should have forgotten it immediately. But damned if Melinda had not remembered.

"Listen, I have absolutely no ill intentions. Otherwise, killing you right now would be as easy as breathing. This turned out this way entirely by accident, and besides..." Evenson picked up the two pistols from the table and fired three shots at himself. However, a layer of deep-blue shielding stopped the bullets ten centimeters from his body, and the flattened rounds all fell to the floor. "Void Protection. A little trick. You can't hurt me at all." Then he said to Melinda, "Of course, if you insist on fucking me, you can come find me tonight."

"All right, I'm removing the spell now. And don't draw your guns again, okay?" Evenson suddenly clapped his hands. The two across from him were like stroke patients who had suddenly recovered after years. They first took long, deep breaths, then laboriously adjusted their sitting positions.

"Feeling better?" Evenson asked with concern.

"Smack!" "Ah!" Melinda, who had been closing her eyes and rolling her neck, suddenly sprang up again. This time she did not draw a gun. Instead, she slapped Evenson squarely across the face. Completely unprepared, Evenson took it full force.

"Yeah, I think I'm recovered. And I'm done fucking." Melinda flexed her wrist and smugly delivered those rather loaded words.

"Oh, really? That's pretty unconventional." Evenson rubbed his face, where bright red finger marks remained. She had clearly hit him hard. "Damn it, I should've cast Demon Armor Spell too."

Served him right. This was the perfect example of asking for trouble. Who told him, a ranged spellcasting class, to provoke—no, flirt with—a rogue at close range? Especially when that rogue had just been pushed into an impulsive state by his Weakness Curse.

"All right, let's all calm down. Mr. Richter, can you start explaining now?" Coulson still had no idea what had happened. First, he felt as though he had missed something, then Melinda suddenly attacked, and finally he was inexplicably taken down.

"Certainly, Agent Coulson. Now think back carefully. After you asked me where the Necronomicon was, and I said, 'Right here,' what do you remember from then until I woke you up?" Evenson asked.

Coulson thought carefully, only to suddenly discover that the memory was completely blank, like a section had been skipped in the middle of a movie. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But... uh, Melinda said there was a book just now, right?" Then Coulson's eyes widened. "My God, you took out the Necronomicon just now, didn't you? That book was right here."

"Mhm." Evenson nodded.

"But I don't remember any of it. No, I should say I have absolutely no impression of it. That's why Melinda thought you had tampered with my mind and suddenly drew her gun." Coulson pieced together the chain of events. "So then... did you actually...?"

"Of course not. I took out the Necronomicon for you to see, then erased your memories? What, am I sick?" Evenson firmly denied doing anything to a man's mind.

After thinking it over, Coulson felt that made sense. There had been no need for it. If Evenson had not wanted them to know, he could have simply said the Necronomicon was lost or had been destroyed by the Vatican. They did not know the situation anyway. Taking it out first and then deleting their memories was completely redundant.

"This was entirely an accident. Remember when I said that people who had undergone initiation but lacked the qualifications to become Sorcerers would fear this book and automatically stay away from it? Those who could not even undergo initiation simply couldn't see the book at all. Even if they did see it, they would immediately forget it existed—just like you." Evenson explained to Coulson, "If I hadn't pointed it out, you shouldn't have been able to see it either. I only did this to prove that I was telling the truth. If you can't learn it, you can't learn it. You don't even have the qualifications to learn."

"So you used this method to prove that people without talent are completely blind when it comes to learning Magic." Coulson felt as though the other man had seen through his thoughts. Evenson had done this to make him—or rather, S.H.I.E.L.D.—give up on forcing him to reveal his secrets and training Magic agents on a large scale. Oh, God. If it were merely difficult or dangerous, those could be overcome. But what were they supposed to do if they couldn't see it and forgot it the moment they looked away?

Just then, as Coulson was nursing a headache, he abruptly turned his head ninety degrees and stared at Melinda with an incredulous expression.

"Fuck, there's one who can see it."