Wanda and Peter Parker embrace great responsibility in the next adventure of an epic multiversal series that reimagines iconic Marvel origin stories. All Wanda has ever known is her friendly little neighborhood in Queens. As an infant, after her parents died, she was adopted into a family where her doting Aunt May and Uncle Ben would always be at the breakfast table. One that includes her idiot brother, Peter Parker, who thinks hiding a spider bite, joining a secret fight club, and becoming a super hero are somehow When Wanda’s own powers emerge, blood, chaos, and suspicion follow in their wake. But as she learns to harness her power under the guidance of Doctor Strange, Peter is standing beside her in the Sanctum Sanctorum. And as they try to protect New York City, the Parker siblings learn that with great powers, there must also come great responsibilities--and greater losses. Reeling from tragedy, Wanda finds herself truly alone for the first time in her life. Peter is lost to his own grief, and so she must forge ahead on her own. But on her first solo outing, she runs into a mysterious speedster--a man named Pietro. And everything she has ever known shatters like glass. Faced with unbelievable truths, Wanda is forced to choose between the life she knows and the life she could have.

Autorentext
Seanan McGuire lives and works in Washington State, where she shares her somewhat idiosyncratic home with her collection of books, creepy dolls, and enormous blue cats.  When not writing—which is fairly rare—she enjoys travel, and can regularly be found any place where there are cornfields, haunted houses, or frogs. A Campbell, Hugo, and Nebula award–winning author, McGuire released her first book, Rosemary and Rue (the beginning of the October Daye series), in 2009, with more than twenty books across various series following since. She doesn’t sleep much.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

Meet the Parkers

“How is winter in Latveria this much colder than winter in New York?” Mary looked out the window, its thick panes of glass distorting the snowy landscape. “I want to get home to Peter.”

“Peter’s fine,” said Richard, in the tone of a man repeating something he’d already said a dozen times or more. He didn’t take his eyes off the papers on the hotel desk. “Ben and May are spoiling him rotten. You know that.”

If he had to leave his son with someone, Ben and May would always have been his first choice, even if they hadn’t been family. He turned a page, making a quick mark in the margin, and kept reading.

“I do. And I also know he’s nine months old,” said Mary, turning away from the window. “Fury promised he’d reduce our field assignments after Peter was born, but here we are in Latveria. This feels like the field to me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” said Richard. “But these events have been escalating. The reality distortions have gotten strong enough that we can pick them up from North America. That means we need to find their source before there’s a disaster we can’t recover from.”

“There are other agents.”

“As good as us?”

Mary didn’t answer.

“I’m the one who isolated and triangulated in on the pattern to these events. It would have been a personal insult for Fury to send anyone else.”

“You couldn’t have done that without the anonymous tips. I still think it’s strange for some whistleblower to contact you directly rather than going to the bureau.”

It was even stranger that the whistleblower in question had dropped the documentation showing the mathematical cascades at the Parkers’ home, rather than delivering it to the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices. It was like someone had wanted them to perform the investigation. But that was where things started making sense. There were no field agents better than the Parkers when it came to this sort of event. That was why they were here, following a tenuous lead into the frozen countryside, trying to collect enough data to convince Fury to secure diplomatic clearance for a full team.

Reconnaissance was no one’s favorite part of the job. But at least it wasn’t boring.

“Whoever it is came to us, Mares, because they knew we’d follow this to the ends of the Earth,” said Richard, with the calm, unruffled tone of someone who had had this discussion many times—they weren’t fighting, they were reciting two sides of a well-known script. “Science gone awry is a risky beast to wrestle with.”

“Yeah, well, most men don’t drag their wives into situations where they might get mutated into something less appealing than Xavier’s show ponies,” said Mary, flopping backward onto the bed. “Will you still love me when I’m sweating acid and trying to hug you with my eighteen tentacles?”

“I’ll be getting mutated right there with you, and we will have many loving, acidic years ahead of us,” said Richard. He paused, eyes flicking between columns, comparing the numbers. “Mary, come over here.”

“What?” She sat up. “Why?”

“Because I think I found the key to predicting where the next event is going to occur. Come look at this.”

Dutifully, Mary rose and crossed to the desk, looking at the numbers Richard indicated. Her eyes widened marginally as she studied them. “I think I see it.”

“If these figures are correct, these events have been corresponding to specific fluctuations in the Earth’s energy field, and the next set of ideal conditions will occur tomorrow night, about seven miles from here. We’ll be home by the weekend.”

Mary grinned at him, a feral light in her eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said since we got here. Now, does that mean you’re done for the night?”

“It does. We can get some sleep.”

Mary grabbed his tie and hauled him out of his chair. “That’s not exactly what I was thinking,” she said, in a low tone.

Richard Parker was a brilliant man, and as he caught his wife’s meaning, he returned her grin, then swept her into his arms and carried her back to the bed.

Outside their hotel, the wind wailed, and the aurora danced across the sky, an elegant ripple of light created by solar winds entering Earth’s atmosphere. It wasn’t something that needed to be stopped, but a beautiful reminder that science was a glorious thing when not turned to the wrong ends.

Richard’s numbers told them when and where an incident was likely to occur, but not what form it was going to take. Without more proof, Fury couldn’t get clearance to send them backup or support: They were on their own until they verified the math.

They left the hotel at seven the next morning, having only waited until the sun was high enough that they wouldn’t be traveling in the dark; they were both armed to the teeth, and Richard let Mary take the lead as they walked to their snowmobile. Of the two of them, she was the better driver and the better shot; he handled theory, and she often found herself managing the practical aspects of their fieldwork. While they could both handle themselves in a fight, this division of labor was part of why they were among S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most effective analysts. Anyone could learn to work with a partner. They didn’t need to learn it. They worked together instinctively, and trusted each other absolutely.

As they raced into the white-dipped Latverian forest, their snowmobile’s engine revving to a steady buzz, Richard had to wonder—not f…