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Stephen Strange wasn’t sure why he had set up his non-magical study the way he had. Having the back of his comfy chair facing the door was hardly a secure way to go about things. Some might say he was tempting fate, but on deeper examination he would have admitted that he wanted to know there was a place in the universe where he could truly be vulnerable. If the Sorcerer Supreme could not be at ease in his non-magical study, then there was no place in the multiverse where Dr. Strange could relax.
His mistake had been in forgetting to close the door.
“Can I get you anything, master?”
Wong’s soft voice nearly made Stephen leap out of his chair. Only the preternatural calm of a man who had devoted his life to discipline—first to carry out complex surgeries, then to master the multitudinous mystical arts—enabled him to keep his seat and a measure of calm.
“Wong.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. It was obvious that his valet had seen everything. He had been sitting in his comfy chair, legs up on his comfy ottoman, reading a book. Maybe it’s not too late, he thought, perhaps he didn’t see the cover. He immediately decided to try distraction. “I guess I forgot to close the door. Silly of me. Perhaps I should make it self-closing…”
Wong waited patiently, his hands clasped in front of him, until Stephen ran out of words. On his face he wore a measure of the same serene calm that Stephen cultivated. He wondered if this was why others sometimes acted unsettled around him.
“There is no need to fear,” Wong said at last. His face assumed a lighter aspect. “Your secret is safe with me.”
By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth! Did he know?
“My…secret?”
Wong’s barely-there smile grew a touch wider. “I know about the books, master.”
Stephen frowned. A feeling—not of dread, but deepest embarrassment—chilled his skin despite the nearby roaring fire. “You do?”
Wong nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. A secretive smile flashed into existence on his face.
“I read them too.” He said.
“You…read them too?”
“I always wait until you’re done, of course.”
Was it possible? It was certainly true that Wong had the run of the house, including Stephen’s non-magical study. He had always tried to be discreet, hiding his guilty pleasures behind a series of musty medical journals that were a decade out of date.
Wong nodded over his shoulder toward the hidden tome, which Stephen had instinctively shoved into the fold between the chair arm and the cushion. “I assume that is the latest installment? Is what I’ve heard true? Mary ended up adopting the black kitten?”
Stephen’s mouth fell open in shock. “Mary…er, yes. She did. I didn’t think she would, to be honest, what with Dan’s existing allergies.”
“But, my master, remember the doctor who was introduced in the seventh installment? It was mentioned deliberately that she and Dan were old friends. I bet Dan has gone to her to get some allergy shots and then told Mary to go ahead with the adoption.”
“Interesting.” Stephen grabbed his chin, tapping his index finger against bottom lip, thinking. “That would explain her seeming rudeness. It had actually been bothering me.” Suddenly he grinned. “By the Ageless Vishanti! I bet you’re right! That’s good thinking.” So it was true. Wong really did read the Cat Who Bakes mystery series!
To his pleasant surprise, Stephen found his discomfort melting away with the knowledge. His trusted manservant may have uncovered his cozy mystery collection, but he had also derived the same joy reading it. Extraordinary. Still, he felt he should make some effort to explain.
“Wong…” he began slowly, “when one such as I spends most of his time staring into the infinite, the best way to unwind often centers around the smallest of comforts.”
“I understand completely, master. My own tasks—most notably worrying about you and Miss Clea—can make for stressful days.”
Stephen smiled, relishing the feeling of kinship with this man who called himself “loyal servant,” but was in fact an ally and friend.
“I’m glad,” he admitted. “It would be nice to share and talk about these with someone.” Pause. “Clea prefers action movies.” Wong’s soft laughter answered this and he found himself chuckling along with him.
His valet tilted his head, considering, and then took a step forward. “You know, Jarvis at the Avengers mansion enjoys reading cozy mysteries as well.” He hesitated, lowering his voice and adopting a slightly conspiratorial tone. “As does Captain America.”
Stephen blinked, then blinked again. Then the corner of his mouth hitched up. “Book club?”
Wong’s eyes lit up in surprise and delight. He executed a crisp, simple bow. “Book club,” he agreed.