Her special gifts and unusual body allowed her to grow far faster than an ordinary human child. Judging from appearances alone, anyone would think the little girl was about five or six. Especially when she reached out her plump, greasy little hand to grab the cut smoked beef, it was hard to imagine that this meat-eating child should really have been barely over a year old, still babbling her first words. But no matter how extraordinary her talent, her attempt was effortlessly stopped by Solomon.
The magus caught that small hand reaching toward the plate, put a fork into it, and gently but firmly closed her fingers around it, teaching her to eat with a fork in a half-compulsory way.
Her physical age had indeed accelerated rapidly, but the Sisterhood's methods of instruction—and the series of troubles faced only by those with extremely high magical aptitude—had slowed her mind's growth in other respects. Hallucinations, nightmares, whispers from the shadows, nameless fears… all of these plagued her. As the child of the Marduk-possessed Sister Gabbie and her own son, Daimon Hellstrom, she possessed a talent unmatched even by the Hellstrom siblings themselves, who were already half-human, half-demon and fully capable of becoming great demons.
In short, her prodigious magical gift made her even more vulnerable than the Hellstrom siblings to manipulation and corruption, and more susceptible to possession by Marduk. The entity had done this because the siblings, whether willingly or not, had resisted corruption, refusing to awaken their demonic blood. It needed a new plan—someone through whom it could affect the physical world. Now that plan had landed in Solomon's hands, and it would have been strange indeed if he didn't make full use of it.
That was why Solomon had brought her back to the manor for education, keeping her under constant watch.
The girl awkwardly speared a small piece of beef and carefully put it in her mouth. After chewing a few times, she turned excitedly toward Solomon, arms outstretched, hands open, her wide eyes fixed on him. She didn't speak, instead pushing her thoughts toward him with the untrained force of instinct.
The beef was extraordinarily tender, cooked with a technique learned from a barbecue shop in the Immortal City run by a retired Texas veteran, right next to the soldiers' bar. Dana had gone there specifically to learn how to master the heat of the smoker. The smoked brisket she produced was tender enough for even a teething child to eat with ease. From then on, Solomon's and the witches' protein menu had grown richer. Protein intake was vital for this household; without sufficient nutrition, their strength could not be sustained. On their very first date, they had eaten two kilograms of tomahawk steak—a story often brought up in teasing afterward.
The magus smiled and nodded, unbothered by the girl's intrusion.
He took up a napkin to wipe her mouth and hands, then pointed to the fork, the plate, and the food in turn, saying each word aloud. Only after the girl repeated them in her halting little voice did he ask her to pick up the fork and feed herself again.
"What's her name?" young Lorna asked, brushing the tied ends of the girl's hair. The ticklish touch made the child giggle.
The orphanage had had children this age before; Lorna had grown up watching Solomon care for those abandoned at firehouses or police stations. Some were adopted and began new lives, while the exceptionally gifted stayed for Athena's education. But whether they went or stayed, the very young had all been under Solomon's care at some point. Even Lorna herself had been, and no matter how bloodstained his hands or how many lives his sword had taken, she could say she had never met anyone more gentle or kind than her brother.
It wasn't just favoritism. Under Athena's teaching, Lorna had learned the relativity of justice: if necessary punishment and killing could bring more people the chance to live, then it was an acceptable means. Whether that thinking was right or wrong, Athena had taught it deliberately, perhaps to align with Solomon's methods of pursuing his ideals.
"She has no name. Her mother gave her only an infant's nickname, nothing more."
Solomon gestured, and once the girl had finished her food, he lifted her from the chair.
Dana had already prepared a room for her. Later, staff would go into town to buy clothing and personal items, replacing the cheap dress she was wearing—a purchase of Sister Gabbie's that Solomon did not want influencing her future. His original plan had been to let Gabbie interact with the child in order to observe Marduk's effect on them both, but that was no longer possible. The girl's gift and the dangers she would face in life were too great; even such a cruel decision now was better than letting her become a vessel for Marduk's intrusion into reality later.
Lorna protested unhappily, "You have to give her a name. Without a name she's not complete."
"Choosing a name is a very, very serious matter—especially for this child. A good name will help her face her fate and fulfill her purpose." What Solomon did not say was that he had delayed naming her because he was examining her soul's true name, preparing to alter it, to wrest her destiny back from Marduk's grasp. Such delicate work required time, and so she remained nameless.
He handed Dana a silk collar inlaid with a strange black material that glimmered faintly with circuit-like patterns under the light. If Wanda or Constantine had been there, they would have recognized it immediately as the same lattice-lined material inside the crates from the Pasadena Energy Lab in Los Angeles—the kind Constantine had taken from the S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse and the lab to keep from gathering dust. Its primary function was to isolate and bind energy; the Bauers and their research team had used the energy from beyond this dimension stored in those crates to create matter in the real world—it was never truly "something from nothing."
With time short, Solomon had cut a piece from one of those crates to make this collar. Its front bore a hollowed golden pentagram, and once powered on, the intricate circuits engraved into the metal formed a protective spell.
"Put this on," he told the girl, holding her hand and speaking directly into her mind to ensure she understood. Unlike the girl's rough mental push, his own mental touch was like a snowflake melting in the palm—light, slow, seeping gently into her unformed soul without any burden. "Don't take it off before bed, or you'll have nightmares. You don't want nightmares, do you?"
The girl nodded, touched his palm lightly, and was carried off by Dana. Even as she left the dining room, she kept waving at Solomon.
"Seems you're good with children, darling," Bayonetta remarked, glancing toward the hallway beyond the dining room doors. "I like a man who's good with children."
"I knew that before we even lived together—back when you were clinging to my leg."
"If I'm not mistaken, that little girl was calling you 'Daddy,' wasn't she?" Bayonetta said with a pleased squint. "Children's thoughts are easy to read, aren't they?"
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