Reading Time: 113 Minutes
Title: An Exiled Necroscope
Author: sarhea
Fandom: Batman, Harry Potter
Genre: Action Adventure, BDSM, Crossover, Het, Romance
Relationship(s): Hermione Granger/Bruce Wayne
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hate Crimes/Hate Speech, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-con/Dub-con, Violence – Graphic , character bashing, explicit graphic sex
Word Count: 101,000
Summary: Parselmouths are not the only ones hated and feared by wand-users. What would a British witch find in Gotham? Home, Freedom, Purpose, Love, Family? How far will she go to protect what she finds?
Artist: spuddoc
Seeds – The Beginning
Hermione Granger twisted her hands in her lap. She needed this job. She had no other alternative than waitressing or minimum wage jobs, both of which would definitely trap her in a level of poverty she had never experienced before. Silently she cursed the Wizarding world and the day she had first received her Hogwarts letter. She cursed Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Weasleys, and she cursed Harry. She hated them all but she didn’t hate magic… it was the only thing she had left she could call her own.
Tears shimmered in gold flecked hazel eyes as she remembered why she was applying for an entry level job she was definitely under qualified for. The Wizarding World had abandoned her, cast her out for something she wasn’t even responsible for, something she had never wanted. She spent seven years at Hogwarts, one year fighting a war, two years helping in the rebuilding, and now she was exiled and orphaned. She had no qualifications in the Muggle world: no educational records, no work referrals, and no contacts. She had spent the last of her inheritance surviving while she frantically studied for and passed her O-levels.
She never would have even received an interview if it wasn’t for Juliana Robbins, a friend of her mother who worked in the HR department for Wayne Enterprises London. She had taken some interest in an orphaned Hermione and offered to put her on the short list of candidates to be interviewed for a trainee opening in European Corporate Archives. Hermione did not have the formal educational qualifications or references for past experience but she definitely was good at research. She stiffened her spine. She wasn’t the best at computers but she was learning. And she was learning fast. If she got the job she could continue to attend night classes, perhaps take a few college credit courses…
“Miss Granger? Please come in.”
“I discussed the candidates interviewed with the supervisors who would be responsible for the new trainee and we came to an agreement. We’d like to offer the position to you. The pay is not too high to start with but if you progress there will be quarterly reviews that could increase your salary. This offer is conditional on you passing our security checks but I do not think that will be much of an issue.”
She smiled, a clearly relieved and pleased expression. “Thank you very much Mr. Hopkins. I’m definitely interested in accepting the position.”
“I’m afraid I have to leave now Bruce. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.” Then he remembered something. “But you may be interested in the new Research Associate for Special Projects.”
Bruce raised an arch brow. Special Projects was the euphemism he and Lucius used when referring to Batman’s equipment and needs. “Really? Anyone I know?”
“I wouldn’t think so. She transferred to Head Office Corporate Archives from European Corporate Archives just over a year ago; very bright and hard working. Good at keeping her mouth shut also. She did the lead research during the cell-phone crisis, when those criminals tried to hijack the cell networks. She isn’t a scientist but she found enough that pointed me in the correct direction, how to counter the microwave signal. You might be interested in bringing her in.”
Bruce considered that new bit of information. He hadn’t thought Lucius would have involved others… But then again Lucius did have his hands full with designing and manufacturing Batman’s gear. On top of his full time job as Wayne Enterprises CEO.
“I’m not sure Lucius. Give her a few sensitive Special Projects to work on but keep her out of the loop for now. Could you arrange a meeting?” Dark blue eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see how she reacts to Bruce Wayne.”
Lucius snorted softly. “I’d like to see that myself.” He grinned at his employers inquiring expression. “Miss Granger is not the sort to fawn over anyone. She is more likely to treat you like a delinquent school boy.”
Bruce raised a brow and smirked. “Oh really? I’d like to see that.”
As she locked up and hurried out of her shared apartment she wondered why on earth she had accepted the transfer to Gotham. Sure the pay was much better and it was an up-ward move that gave her more responsibilities but the city was so dark… it felt almost tainted and heavy. One week exploration and a discreet meeting with an information broker at Salem confirmed what she had suspected. There were no wizards in Gotham.
Salem never invited any Muggleborns from Gotham for training. Gotham had the reputation of being weird and creepy and odd; wizards raised in Gotham go bad. After fifteen Dark Lords from fifteen students, the entire student population from Gotham, Salem decided to cuts its losses and the American Federation of Magical Enclaves marked Gotham as a No Mans Land. Wizards were encouraged to stay out of the area. With the recent upsurge in criminal activity and the appearance of the Freaks, the Rogues, the American enclaves were more certain than ever nothing good could ever come from Gotham; only Muggles, metas, and criminals.
Once she caught her train Hermione allowed her thoughts to drift, to wonder and dream. After finding out Gotham was a No Mans Land for wizards Hermione had done a more detailed investigation into the area, its history, myths and legends. The Iroquois Indians had warned the settlers the lands were strange but the location and natural resources were too tempting to deny. Life did not really become dark until after the Great Depression and then it reached its lowest ebb the years after Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered. The Waynes’s had provided a moral compass, a guiding light to the city, something dearly needed during dark times. Their son was too young to take up the role and later he left. When he returned Gotham had pretty much hit rock bottom.
There was effort being made by various men and women: Commissioner Jim Gordon to end the corruption, Harvey Dent during his time as DA though he eventually became the criminal known as Two-Face, and Batman, the masked vigilante. For a time Hermione had wondered if he was a wizard. It seemed impossible, all what he had done, what was whispered of him, how he could fly and vanish in the blink of an eye. Eventually she had decided otherwise. It would take a great deal of dedication and sacrifice to have started and kept on his quest to fight crime for so many years, qualities she now believed were impossible to find in a wizard. At least a wizard trained in the enclaves.
She stared at her reflection in the glass, seeing the skyline and buildings pass without truly seeing them. She was looking beyond them. The first week in her new home Hermione had wondered why there was such a heavy despairing atmosphere blanketing Gotham? Why were the residents so willing to believe the worst and resort to violence first? After weeks of careful studies and personal interviews Hermione believed she had a possible answer. It was an unproven theory of course, she did not have the money or the time to do the extensive digging required.
Gotham was sitting on a tangled web of leylines, natural power and magic welling from the Earth herself, power that made it such a rich and desirable land. Unfortunately such places were very sensitive to those living on the surface. As the people despaired the nodes became tainted in turn affecting even more people living close by. Historically nodes were usually consecrated temples, groves, and shrines. Holy grounds tended by magically inclined clergy to keep them pure and untainted by the weakness and darkness of all mortals. If she could purify the land, or perhaps even one of the nodes it could turn things around. The people would start feeling and acting better.
Her conscience urged her to do that but her fear kept her from going all out. She did not have the resources or the courage to tackle the nodes but she could clear out small pockets around the city, create small sanctuaries where the residents would be a little safer, healthier. The poorer districts where there were less services, innocents who were too close to the taint, innocents who grew up and became tainted – criminals or murderers. They deserved a chance for a better life. She always kept her efforts small-scale. She did not want to draw too much interest or shift the balance of power. As long as she was careful no one would notice. Wizards and Witches from the enclaves would never want to live in the poor disreputable neighbourhoods. They would never walk in Crime Alley or The Narrows and see what she had done. As long as they never found out she would be safe.
Quickly she made soft and hard copies of the necessary files and prepared a portfolio and folders for her possible audience. She hoped five sets were enough.
When she reached the meeting room specified she was taken aback. There were only two occupants. Her supervisor Lucius Fox, and her ultimate employer Bruce Wayne.
“Lucius, I’m sorry I thought this was the room for the status report…” She trailed off.
The older African-American smiled warmly. “You are in the correct place. The meeting is just for Bruce and myself.” He waved at the handsome indolent looking dark haired man on the other edge of the table next to him. “Mia, this is Bruce Wayne, he is interested in hearing your progress report on Project 13528. Bruce, this is the new Research Associate I told you about, Hermione Granger. If you are lucky she’ll let you call her Mia.” He added with a grin.
Bruce Wayne studied the Englishwoman. She was not too tall or model slim, dressed in a department store navy blue skirt-vest combo matched with a plain white shirt and flat shoes. She was not conventionally beautiful with her strong features, mass of brown curls drawn back into a neat braid, and hazel brown eyes. But he could see hints. What would she look like in more daring clothes, her hair loose, eyes flashing?
He smiled charmingly. “Please call me Bruce.”
She merely stared at him hard. “Mr. Wayne.” Her response was clipped and sharp.
He raised a brow intrigued. “I don’t stand much on formality.”
“Or anything else.” She muttered in too low of a voice to be heard by most. Bruce had to swallow his laughter and schooled his expression into polite inquiry.
“Excuse me?”
She smiled blandly, a polite social expression. “Sorry. Just talking to myself.” Then she briskly moved over to the computer station. “Give me a minute to get set up. You might be interested in what I’ve found out Lucius…”
“That is quite a thorough report. You did it all in five days? By yourself?”
She smiled politely. “It wasn’t that hard. I’m pretty good at getting obscure bits of information. Gotham University has a very good faculty. When I mentioned I was working on a project for Lucius Fox, CEO for Wayne Enterprises they were very co-operative. I was able to fill in the rest from other sources.”
“Some not very public sources.” Bruce noted sharply.
“Lucius said it was important,” was her only answer. “The sources are not official or citable of course.”
Bruce nodded slowly. It wasn’t illegal. Not quite legal either. Just a very obscure loophole in the patent protection laws.
“Thank you for your reports. Please e-mail a copy to Lucius and myself. Leave two hard copies here and shred the rest. Keep your files on USB in the safe and on the Charlie server only.”
She nodded and repacked her things in her portfolio case. Quickly she murmured her farewells and left the meeting room. Bruce Wayne was… off. There was something about him that made her wary. Something dangerous. She shuddered as she quickened her steps. He wasn’t a real threat. Just too rich, too spoiled, too head strong. She made a mental note to avoid crossing paths with him in the future. If she was lucky she would never have to see him again; except perhaps at office Christmas parties.
Bruce tapped his Graf von Faber-Castell fountain pen against the desk. “She’s hiding something.”
Lucius snorted. “Aren’t we all?”
“She is intelligent, hard working and bright. Surely she could have secured some sort of scholarship to complete a post-secondary degree. Her CV indicates she wrote her O-levels on her own. She must have attended some high school. Why didn’t she write the exams with them?”
Lucius frowned. “I asked her about that. She said that she had to drop out her last year. There were some problems with the children of some of the more wealthy patrons. She was unable to get her records from them since it was a private institution and she didn’t have the money or the energy for a lawsuit. She just wanted to leave it all behind her.”
Bruce shook his head. “There are still too many gaps. She practically doesn’t have any history at all from the moment she turned twelve. No hospital visits, bank records, driving licenses, tax records from before she started working with us. The only thing I could find in the government databases were visas and passports. She apparently travelled with her parents during the summers. Very eclectic destinations too.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Just keep an eye on her. I don’t think she’s a spy but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” His eyes sharpened and voice dropped into a lower register. “The suit modification… Is it complete?”
“Almost. I have a working sample for test purposes. Training room only.”
Bruce smirked. “Of course.” And then he turned the conversation to Wayne Enterprises business. Hermione Granger was not a threat or major concern; with some luck not ever.
“Why are you doing this?” She tried to reason with the thugs. “We’ve already given you access to Vault 3 and 5. There is no one here who can open Vault 1 and 2. It is designed to be sealed in the event of a security breach!”
“That may be true, but someone will have the codes to open it.”
Hermione shook her head frantically as she twisted, trying to look over her shoulder, to see her captors face. “No! It was designed to lock down completely! The building has to be completely shut down and then restarted.”
Thug 2 frowned and spoke to thug 3. “That would mean anyone could get in. Even the cops.”
Hermione squeaked when a white painted face pushed in front of her. “Don’t be such a party pooper little girl. I’m sure Batsy will be able to deliver. If he doesn’t I’m afraid there are going to be several new graves in the cemetery. Now be a good girl and don’t make too much trouble. We have to prepare for Bats and Birds.”
Her eyes were wide and terrified as she tried to process the situation. It had been two hours; two hours and ten dead bodies two of which were cooling just a few meters away. She had never expected such calculated planning from a maniac like The Joker. He had ordered the hostages to be split up in four groups, one on each level wired with cameras and radios. If there was any rescue attempt made on one level his men on the other levels were ordered to start killing the hostages.
Her skin was prickling. She could feel the despair and rage and hate filling the trashed research lab. It was going to cost a fortune to repair and replace all the equipment. Did Wayne Enterprises have a good insurance policy? It was going to suck for everyone. Dimly she wondered if she would survive this nightmare. She had lived in Gotham for more than a year now. She definitely had her run-ins with the criminal element but this was the first time she’d encountered one of the Rogues. How unlucky it had to be a psychopath like The Joker. The Penguin was more chivalrous and less likely to kill a polite co-operative hostage. If it was Two-Face she could have influenced his coin in her favour.
She caught the eye of the nearest guard. “What is he after? He keeps rambling about Vault 1 and 2.”
The thug decided it was okay to answer. “Wayne Tech developed something to do quick aerosol dispersal for any chemical. Mr J wants it.”
“For Smilex.” Hermione was numb. “The project was scrapped. All the prototypes were destroyed and the files scrubbed. Mr. Wayne said there was too much risk it would be misused. There are no copies of the files in the Vaults.”
“Oh, and how would you know that?” The Joker purred. “You are just a Research Associate. Not one of the lab techies.”
Hermione squared her shoulders and tried to relax her tense strained muscles. “I work for Mr. Fox. He clearly stated the plans for the technology were going to be destroyed.”
“But you don’t know if he did that do you? I mean you haven’t been inside the Vault and seen for yourself. Or have you?”
Hermione did not answer. It was no use trying to reason with him. The only thing she could do was wait, pray, and hope she didn’t break and no one else died.
“They have hostages all throughout the building.” Batgirl noted soberly. “The Joker is actually thinking or someone is doing it for him.”
“Miss Granger is doing a dandy job keeping his attention.” Robin noted. “I’m surprised she isn’t more hysterical. I mean The Joker just killed two hostages in front of her because he was annoyed at being thwarted.”
“That’s not a good thing.” Batman rumbled. “We’ll need to split up. The Joker is mine.”
“Sarah! Push him towards me!” She snapped. The middle-aged secretary clearly in shock and denial. “Push Him! Use your foot!”
After several prompts the other women obeyed. Hermione looked around. The Batman was sort of winning. He managed to take out the thugs guarding two groups of five hostages on this floor. There were still four left. Then Hermione slipped off her shoes. She managed to roll him over onto his back and saw it. Clippers hooked on his belt! Using her toes she managed to unhook them. It took two tries of tossing it into the air with her toes before she managed to catch it in her hands. She forced herself to hold them tight as she angled the tools to cut the wires binding her. If she dropped them…
The wire snapped. Her hands went numb as blood flowed into her fingers. It hurt. It hurt too bloody much. But she couldn’t stop. She hurried over to free Sarah. The other woman was babbling and crying her thanks.
“Don’t thank me just yet! Just get out of here!” She hissed as she moved to the other hostages.
Then she cried out as someone grabbed her by her loose hair and tossed her face into a bank of servers. Her vision blurred and blood poured into her eyes.
“Ah ah ah!” The Joker chided as he paced towards her. “Naughty naughty girl.”
Her head rang as she struggled to find her feet. Where was Sarah? Where was the exit?
“How dare you try to spoil my fun by leaving early!” The Joker pouted. “You must pay a penalty! Starting… With her!”
There was a flash of silver and Sarah fell to the tiled floor, her life bleeding out of an open gash in her throat, her eyes going dark.
“Sarah!”
The Jokers eyes were dark and maniacal. “You must all pay the penalty!”
“No! Stop!” It was a futile plea. Joseph Winters fell.
Hermione moved. She had to stop him! Then Tamara Briars collapsed like a broken doll. She was between him and Eileen Piers.
“Stop it!” She screamed in his face.
He laughed and backhanded her. She fell. And then Eileen fell on top of her. Hermione screamed feeling the warm blood gush over her throat and chest.
“Eileen!”
Hermione Granger was kneeling in a pool of blood weeping. Her pale green shirt and cream pants were stained red. She seemed completely unaware of The Joker standing over her laughing maniacally.
She was reaching out to the bodies, people who she had known. Her head was bowed, the tips of her hair dragging in the blood. It was a mane when not restrained by her usual braids or buns.
She was weeping. Batman could see small pieces of paper dance around the lab. He frowned. He saw sparks of electricity dance from the trashed server and land in the pools of blood. Was there a danger of electrocution and fire? He needed to move fast. It was unfortunate she had witnessed death up close and personal. He hoped she would be willing to see a therapist. Bruce Wayne made sure all Wayne Enterprises employees had access to trained and qualified professionals. Some days he wished he could make use of their services.
Then his danger sense flared.
She screamed; a long piercing sound of primal rage. It vibrated in his bones, under foot. The tempered glass shuddered and shattered.
Her face lifted framed with brown strands dyed a gory red at the tips. Her eyes… Her eyes were pools of lightening, unfathomable. Was she a meta? Could she see? Apparently so given how she turned as she rose on bare bloody feet to face The Joker.
The lunatic cocked his head.
“Pretty.” Was the only comment he got out before she thrust out a hand. Then lightening poured out of her hand, into the Joker and drove him through two banks of servers before it weakened to drop him to the ground.
“The dead scream.” Her voice was unnaturally hollow and booming. “The dead scream for vengeance Jack Napier!”
The servers flew across the room and landed on top of some of the still conscious thugs. A table floated and inverted itself before the flat surface came down hard on a few others. The others attacked her. She moved.
There was a hint of slight awkwardness in her motions, as though she had never done it before, but the stances and blows used were clearly advanced; and designed to Hurt. Even cause permanent injury. Batman took advantage of the distraction to take out the rest. She tossed away her last opponent before running towards The Joker, her clenched fist raised and surrounded by a halo of green flames.
“NO!” Her voice was harsh. “You Are Not Escaping!”
And then she punched forward. The green flames left her fist in a ball that landed squarely between the Jokers shoulder blades. He fell forward from the impact and was still.
Hermione Granger stopped running. The green flames faded from her hand, the white lightening died from her eyes. She stared at The Jokers unmoving form.
Batman moved to examine the Joker.
“Don’t bother.” Her voice was more normal now, though harsh and raspy as though she had been screaming for a long time. “He’s in a coma. He will never wake.”
Batman frowned. He moved to loom over her. “What did you do?!” He growled.
There was a cut near her hairline bleeding sluggishly. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face bloody and tearstained. But her expression was curiously blank.
“What did you do?” He demanded.
She seemed to pull herself together. “I did what you and the police failed to do. I’ve stopped The Joker from harming anyone else in the future.”
“You have no right—” He growled.
“No right? No right?!?” Her expression hardened as she marched right up to him on bare bloody feet, a cut through her eyebrow bleeding sluggishly to match the slow trail of blood pouring from her split lip. “No right?!!” She screamed right in his face. He could see gold sparks in hazel eyes. “How dare you! I have every right to defend myself and innocents! That bastard was nothing more than an animal to be put down!”
“You are not the courts or the law.”
“And you are not the police,” she countered snidely. “Who gave you the right to run around in a cape and mask tracking down criminals?”
“You put him in a coma! You could have just restrained him!”
“NO! No, I couldn’t! Not when the dead scream for vengeance! Not when justice has failed to deliver! Not when the bastard is so clearly unrepentant no mortal law can make him Pay!” She snarled.
“And who gave you the right to punish?”
“The dead do.” Her voice was cold and unnaturally calm, expression defiant. “Will, Lizzie, Sarah, Joseph, Tamara, Eileen. They are dead and they demand to be avenged, they know the law cannot punish the Joker; it has clearly failed to do so too many times in the past. They demand it of me and since they have ample cause I cannot deny them. Their deaths were violent and too recent, they cannot be denied. I am just their tool and they act through me.” Her expression dared him to disbelieve him.
Batman frowned. “You are some kind of medium?”
She laughed. It was a bitter, harsh sound. “I wish.”
“Then what are you?”
“None of your business!”
“If you are living in my city it is!”
Cobalt clashed against hazel in a battle of wills before Granger grudgingly conceded.
“I’m a Necroscope. If you want to know go look it up.”
Batman memorized the term. Then he looked around. How were they going to explain this to the police? As though she had read his thoughts Hermione Granger spoke.
“Tell the police whatever you want but I’m sticking to my story. I managed to free Sarah and was about to release the others when The Joker started cutting their throats. Then he backhanded me and knocked me unconscious. When I woke up it was like this. I walked around in a daze before regaining my senses and ran out.”
She sensed his frown and raised a challenging eyebrow. “What are they going to do even if you tell them what I did? The cameras have been damaged and knocked out. I’m not going to perform for them like a trained monkey. The most they can do is charge me with assault and property damage. No DA will take me to court. I am simply a victim who used excessive force to defend herself out of sheer terror after seeing her co-workers die and one bleed to death in her arms. If anything they should be giving me a medal for taking out that bastard!”
Batman fumed as he watched her stalk away on bare feet leaving a trail of blood footprints behind her. The worst thing was he couldn’t really deny her logic.
She stood up with a sigh and tossed her disposable paper cup in the trash can. Doing a circuit would be a good distraction. A quick glance reassured her no one was paying any particular attention to her. Deftly she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head. Then she pulled out a small navy blue hat from a black department store back embossed with double-Bs. A few pins and it was neatly perched on top of her head. Carefully she pulled the veils down so they obscured all of her head, hiding the colour of her hair and her features. Then she slipped off her grey trench coat and bundled it up before putting it in her bag. A cool breeze fluttered the material of her long navy blue skirt. The black woollen blazer was comfortably warm.
Gracefully she walked out of the park towards the closest transit station.
She had refused to stay in the hospital past the twelve hour observation period. She had refused to stay in police custody as well. The Joker was as good as dead and his thugs were in the hospital. It wasn’t like she had angered a mob boss who would send enforcers or assassins after her. As she had said there were no charges laid. Several officers had congratulated her on surviving The Joker.
Bruce Wayne took the day off and Batman set up surveillance on Hermione Granger. To his shock she had not retreated and hidden in her apartment located in the lower middle-class neighbourhoods of Old Gotham. Instead she had gone out for a walk. After doing a circuit of the scraggly bare municipal park and drinking coffee from a corner café she had done something unexpected. She had donned a veil that obscured her identity.
Batman could not explain it. One moment he could see her face. The next moment after she lowered the veil attached to the small pill-box hat it was like seeing through a thick haze. He could just see the bare outline of her face. Her hair appeared darker closer to chocolate or black. How could one hat make such a difference?!? Was it an optical illusion or new tech? If so Batman wasn’t sure how it could be done. The material of the veil appeared to be very sheer black muslin but why couldn’t he see through it!?!? Just the vaguest outline of her features.
This new development made Batman worried. Were there others with similar masking devices? If he hadn’t seen Hermione Granger don the hat he wouldn’t have known it was her! This could lead to a major crime spree if any of the local gangs secured similar items. How on earth did it work?!?
He watched her visit one of the local cemeteries and pay her respects at some of the newer graves. The wind was stronger when she stood near a fresh grave but he could not see if her eyes had changed. She seemed to be a regular visitor. The local caretakers called out to her. He called her ‘Veiled Lady’ in a joking fashion. She left after a ten minute conversation that mainly centered around the caretakers teenage children.
She ate at a local deli before she caught a bus that took her into Crime Alley. As she stepped off near the heart of the depressed neighbourhood she pulled on a pair of black leather driving gloves. Then she walked without any fear of being attacked. Batman scowled and moved closer, just in case she needed to be rescued. But the strangest and rather terrifying thing was she never did.
As she walked many of the locals actually left their homes and approached her. Young children recognized her first and ran to her calling her ‘Veiled Lady’. She was affectionate and openly demonstrative. Every child received a hug or ruffled hair and a piece of candy. Candy their mothers did not protest them accepting. The women recognized her. She would cuddle an affectionate toddler while talking to the mother. The conversations were not too long and on various personal problems the residents were experiencing; worries about family and friends in the gangs, concerns about the younger ones following in their footsteps, a difficult boss, cut backs at the local factories. Hermione Granger listened with a non-judgemental ear. Occasionally she made comments and suggestions but mainly she gently guided them to their own conclusions. Why did they trust her? Why did they trust a woman who hid her face from them?
Then Batman noticed something else. A toddler tried to tug her veil. He knew babies had a strong determined grip for anything hanging but in this situation the veil did not budge. The pillbox hat did not slip. It simply wasn’t… natural.
He followed in her footsteps as the twilight fell and the skies darkened. This was the dangerous time; people returning home from work, gangs coming out for easy prey.
Batman tensed when he saw a trio emerge from the alley; members of the El Lobos gang. He recognized two of them. Batman was ready to spring into action when he saw it. The trio got a better view of the woman walking down the street. Manuel Hernandez stiffened and pulled his partners back into the alley.
“No!” He hissed. “It’s the bruja!”
Batman frowned. Witch? Given what she had done to The Joker perhaps which was a sort of accurate description.
“She ain’t no bruja!” Jose Lopez whined.
“Don’t be a fool Jose. She may not be a bruja like your nona but the dead speak to her. You don’t mess with a Mouth for the Spirits.” Jose paled. Manuel crossed himself, an unexpected demonstration of religious faith. “She said Tia Anita was unhappy with me.”
The third teen scoffed. “Your Tia Anita has been dead for years!”
Manuel’s eyes were serious. “She knew things only Tia knew. Things I told Tia the morning she was gunned down by the Hornets.”
The third one sulked. “I don’t see why you’re so afraid of her. So she knows the dead. What can they do?”
Jose’s voice was serious. “Plenty if they are pissed at you and there is a Mouth around.” He glanced around warily. “Let’s get out of here. Too many people died close by. I don’t know if any of them might still be mad at me.”
The third one stared aghast at his companions, his idols. “So you are just chickening out? You’re going to let a broad get the better of you?”
Manuel snarled and slammed the teen into the brick wall. “Don’t be a idiot Nico. My Nona didn’t raise no fool. Just leave the Veiled Lady alone. You’ll stay healthy.”
“She’s more dangerous than the Bat?” Nico touched his bruised face.
“Definitely. The Bat might beat you up but he’ll just hand you over to the police. If you hurt her the Spirits will kill you. She’s a Mouth and you’re just another punk.”
Batman was disturbed and worried by the information. The more dissolute element knew more about her than he did. Clearly some research was in order. What exactly was a Necroscope? A Mouth for the Spirits? What were the abilities and limits? Mentally he flipped through his list of contacts in the Occult Circles.
Jason Blood stared at the Batman. He swallowed hard. “Enough to know they are very bad news. Why?” Batman did not answer. “If there is one in Gotham I would like to know. Such a threat must be eliminated before they become too powerful.”
Batman stiffened and glowered. “Tell me about Necroscopes.”
The Occult Specialist frowned before answering grudgingly.
“Necroscopes are very rare. Most mistake them for Necromancer but there is a distinct difference. Necromancer is someone with a talent for manipulating and animating corpses. A Necroscope literally speaks to the dead. If a Necroscope commands the spirits will return to their bodies and rise to fight. If there is one in Gotham they need to be stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because all Necroscopes go insane. There is power in death and dying. Sooner or later he will start killing to harvest the powers released by death and to increase his own magical abilities, to build an army of spirits who can serve his cause. The rules are quite clear in the magical communities. If one is found their powers are bound and they are exiled from magical society. It is unfortunate but the binding usually kills them within a year.”
Batman frowned. “How does a binding kill?”
“Batman you have to understand there are those born to have magic. To Not use it is unnatural. It is like building a dam. The power keeps building up with nowhere to go. Eventually it starts destroying the one bound from the inside.”
“So if a Necroscope is bound he will not be able to do magic.”
“Yes.”
“How does a Necroscope get their powers?”
“They are born with it. But most never ever activate it.”
“How is it activated?”
“By death. Usually a relative dying violently. Due to kinship they are more sensitive to the powers released by death. Once the potential is activated they can’t control it. They get addicted to the sensations, the powers they gain from death.”
“How do you know?”
“Batman, I’ve known three Necroscopes. Two were good men; sane and stable. Both turned into serial killers seeking a high within four months. The third was a woman who lasted nine months. The longest known case was fifteen months before he committed suicide. It became standard law to bind and exile Necroscopes four hundred years ago. Once bound they cannot use magic and are no longer a threat. It is unfortunate that they die as a side-effect of the bindings.” Then his expression hardened. “Now tell me Batman, is there a Necroscope in Gotham? We don’t need a new Rogue on the loose.”
Batman hesitated. “The Necroscope is from Europe. Britain.”
Jason frowned and thought hard. “I heard of a recent case. Hermione Granger.” Then he noted Batman’s stillness. “But it can’t be her!” His voice was incredulous. “She was bound and exiled four years ago! She should be dead by now!”
“Well she isn’t. She’s still alive and perfectly sane so I don’t want you or anyone else attacking her!” Batman’s voice was hard. “She has already been punished by your own laws for something she did not ask for. She has been bound and exiled. End of story.”
Jason grudgingly nodded.
Batman vanished.
“A bit of horror reading Master Bruce?”
“More history than fiction Alfred.” Batman admitted.
Alfred blinked and paid closer attention to what he was reading. “That is quite disturbing. Do we need to be on the lookout for a Necroscope in Gotham?”
Batman smiled faintly. “Actually I’ve already identified her.”
“Who?”
“Hermione Granger.”
Alfred blinked. “Are you sure sir? Your research says they turn into serial killers within a few months. She has been working for Wayne Enterprises for a few years now; more than a year in Gotham. There hasn’t been any sign of a serial killer.”
Batman leaned back in his chair. “She hasn’t been killing. In fact she restrained herself from killing the Joker and his thugs. She merely put him into a coma and seriously injured the rest.”
Alfred was taken aback. “My word! Are you sure?”
“I saw it myself.” Batman pointed out. He pulled up a few files. “I believe I found out how she was activated. Her parents went missing a few weeks before her nineteenth birthday. The receptionist for their dental practice notified the police. One week later all three were found in one of the local warehouses. Her parents had been tortured and killed. She had also been… hurt. There were a few bodies dressed in cos-play clothing, wizards’ robes. It was never identified just how they were killed. Hermione Granger was in a coma for two weeks before she woke. They never identified the bodies. The detectives did not have the heart to pressure her after the trauma of her experience. The case was never officially closed since agents from MI-6 took Hermione Granger into their custody and sealed the files. Agents who do not exist according to the databases.”
Alfred considered the new information. “My word, Miss Granger is turning out to be quite a conundrum. Do you wish me to use my contacts?”
Bruce shook his head. “No. I believe those agents were from the local magical circles. Jason informs me her powers were bound before she was exiled. That presumably happened a few months before she wrote her O-levels and applied to Wayne Enterprises.”
Alfred nodded knowingly. “You don’t want them to know she is still alive.”
“Exactly. They have no trouble issuing a death sentence for something she never wanted. If they find out she survived it they may send someone to take care of her. Permanently.”
There was a comfortable silence before Alfred voiced the question nagging him.
“Master Bruce, why are you so protective of her? I thought you didn’t like what she had done. To The Joker.”
“I don’t. But from what Jason has told me she could have very easily killed him.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t like it, how quickly Jason labelled her a threat without even meeting her or considering the facts of Her case.” He looked at his most trusted confidant. “I’ve interacted with her. I’ve followed her. She is quite sane.” Then he frowned. “Other than going for walks in cemeteries and Crime Alley without an escort.”
“Oh really?”
“Mmmm.” Batman leaned back in his chair and considered the ceiling. “She used some kind of veil that completely obscured her identity before she went on her walk. She had clearly done this before because the residents recognized her. They were not afraid of her.” His voice was wonder filled. “Alfred, the women and children actually left their homes to go and talk to her. They told her their problems. You know they never trust any of the social workers. They just trust Leslie because she’s worked with the free clinics and shelters for years.” He frowned slightly. “But the local gang-members avoided her. Some are terrified of her. Some of them know what she is… A Mouth for the Spirits. They treat her with respect and caution.”
Alfred was impressed. “That is quite an achievement. Something she didn’t get by knocking heads together I presume.”
Batman smiled ruefully. “No. After what she did to The Joker I can understand why street toughs like Manuel Hernandez and Jose Lopez prefer to avoid her.”
Alfred hummed softly. “She can make them behave. What about the mob?”
“I didn’t see any interaction.” He frowned. “I doubt she will get the same respect or fear from someone like Maroni or Thorne. And it is not like she is actually fighting criminals or sabotaging their operations; just aiding the families of their victims and employees.”
“The innocents and less fortunate.” Alfred murmured. Then he stared at the photo of the young woman on screen. It was a security ID card photo. Her features were smooth and even, her colouring and make-up subdued. “Why do you think she does it?”
“I don’t know. Batman has to ask her that.”
“So are you going to keep an eye on her?”
“Yes. I think Robin could use some practice in long-term surveillance for a few weeks. Just to make sure she doesn’t go bad or get into too much trouble.”
“She is doing rounds. She always visits the sites of local shootings once the police have completed their investigations.” Robin’s voice held a mixture of suppressed fear and awe. “You should see it for yourself.”
And then the younger vigilante led his mentor and partner across the side-alleys and deserted parking lots and abandoned office buildings occupied by the homeless and gangs, depending on who held that particular street that week.
At each location Robin pointed out a specific feature that Batman knew hadn’t been there before. Memorials created from concrete, stone, metal and tar. Concrete slabs and pillars scavenged from near-by buildings and brought over. Heavy chunks shaped and polished by some unknown force into small statues and markers emerging from the tar like survivors rising from darkness. Dates and names were etched into the smooth surfaces in smooth elegant script. Scrap metal from abandoned car shells, torn down fencing or shutters twisted into intricate shapes, some abstract and some surreal. Memorials that were hidden by the shadows and debris and junk. Memorials for the dead.
“I cross referenced the names, dates, and locations.” Robin reported soberly. “They were mainly residents who died violently. Some were gang members, some were honest labourers, most were too young.”
Then Robin led Batman to a particular alley. Batman winced. He recognized it. Nearly twenty people died in a shoot out seven months back, a dozen of them children. No one had called it in until it was too late. By the time they reached this part of the city the guilty parties responsible had fled and there was only one survivor who died before the EMTs arrived.
He touched the letters engraved on the mirror slick concrete slab leaning against the alley wall. His gloved fingers lingered on the last one. Amanda Jackson, an eight-year-old girl who bled out and died in his arms.
Around the names were pictorial carvings; flowers, stars, teddy bears, fishes, cars and rockets, and all sorts of things that would have fascinated children. At the base of the slab some people had left flowers, daisies carnations tulips and lilies that had long wilted and fallen into fragments.
Then Robin knelt and touched the holly bushes that had somehow grown Out of the tar, pushed and crumbled the asphalt surface enough to push through. It was a fragile looking thing, just knee-high but with thick glossy leaves and bright red berries ripe out of season.
“I saw her do this Batman.”
“Do what?”
“She made this bush grow out of the ground. Like Poison Ivy. Only the holly bush isn’t animate and feral.” Robin’s voice was awed. “She knelt on the ground and touched both palms to the asphalt. Then her hands glowed green and white. When she lifted them away the energy poured into the ground. A few seconds later the tar buckled and crumbled enough for the busy to emerge. It kept growing as she kept her hands over it. When she moved away it stopped growing. I’ve tested it. It is a perfectly ordinary but very healthy holly bush. No toxins, chemicals, mutagens or anything like that.”
In another alley Robin showed Batman a rusty car frame that had been taken apart and twisted into a silhouette reaching for the sky with slender metal arms. Josiah Rhinehart, a basketball player good enough to qualify for an athletic scholarship at GCU.
On a corner near a convenience store there were three chest-high silhouettes holding hands. Three teenage girls who died when the abusive ex-boyfriend of one brought his friends to make his ex regret her choice.
A mural of arcs and stars blasted onto an apartment wall near the back. One shooting star for each of those who died in that apartment building or the parking lot behind. Each star was a metal plate somehow fused into the brick; a plate etched with a date and initials.
Robin’s expression was sober. “I cross-referenced all the dates and information. Some of them are known, others are unknown. Some of the names are missing cases that were never closed. If I’m right and these are all memorials then they are also dead.” He looked at Batman. “You said she’s a… Necroscope right?”
“Yes.”
“Then she must have communicated with their ghosts. None of their families believe they are still alive but no bodies have been found. In some cases the police believe they just skipped town without letting anyone know.”
“Have you talked with the locals?”
“Yes. None of them know anything about how the memorials were created. Or if they do they aren’t talking. One day there is nothing and the next there it is. Some of the local gangs tried make damaging them a rite of membership.” Robin swallowed hard. “The kids who tried that were thrown into the wall by some unknown force. One arm and one leg were twisted in opposite directions causing severe greenstick fractures. After that several of the residents began making it a point to stop and grieve and remember. Some of the local pastors started holding informal sermons at these locations. When the gangs tried to interfere they received the same treatment. Then some punk pointed out all of the weirdness began after the Veiled Lady started showing up so some of the leaders tried to make an example of her. Everyone knew the Veiled Lady always stopped at these monuments during her walking circuit so they laid a trap.
“Elena Pereira said Tomas Viterro was flayed raw with whips of air and fire. He only survived because the fire seared the wounds shut and slowed the blood loss. When his gang tried to attack her they received the same treatment. She was very specific. Her attacks damaged the major muscle groups and tendons. Her victims can no longer handle sudden bursts of intense muscular strain, only slow gradual increases. The local clinic couldn’t do anything but suggest full reconstructive surgery with no hope of 100% recovery. They can still move and work but not fast or quick enough to pull heists or run from the law. Most of the gang moved to other areas and took up more honest work or the support service roles in other gangs like chop shops and repacking. No gang has dared to target her after that. Besides she doesn’t actively go against them, or even try to interfere. She earned their respect by the informal healing work she does with Maria Lopez. They don’t like going to Dr. Leslie Thompkins free clinic for treatment.”
“So she has a standing in the local hierarchy.”
“Yeah. Don’t mess with her unless you want to get hurt real bad.” Robin grinned. “It was odd seeing Rocco Vecchio act like a gentleman.”
Batman blinked. “Excuse me?” Rocco Vecchio was the leader of one of the three Big Ones in Crime Alley. He was loud, crude, and had no respect for females.
“Yeah. I saw her stop by Lupe Gomez. She is one of Rocco’s girls. I found out Veiled Lady was treating Rocco’s kids for asthma. The three older ones were running around not looking blue and sickly like they usually do.”
“Treating?” Batman’s voice was sharp and inquiring.
“I looked in the window. She touched the kids chest and back. Her hands glowed like when she made the plant grow. After that they stopped coughing so hard and could breathe deeper without wheezing.”
“A cure or a treatment?”
Robin thought hard. “A treatment. She makes regular stops enough for the kids to hang around her and whine when she left. And for Rocco to not act like an ass.” Robin sighed. “If she has Healing Hands she could make a fortune healing the really sick.”
Batman shook his head. “That is the last thing she wants to do. Draw attention.” Robin was confused. “If she heals middle-class or wealthy individuals they will go to the press. If her name and picture goes in the papers it will draw attention she doesn’t want. And there will be demands on her by the ultra-wealthy and powerful seeking to control her and her abilities like a commodity.”
“Then why don’t the gangs tell the mob?”
“Because they know she is powerful and not afraid to kill and cause permanent damage.” Batman replied slowly. “And by that same token they know she will not interfere in their activities so long as they do not try to interfere with hers.”
Robin frowned. “If they are afraid of her why doesn’t she stop them from committing crimes and killing?” He wanted to know.
Batman thought for a long moment. “I’m not certain. That’s something only she knows the answer to.”
“Batman … Okay?”
He could hear Robins voice over the commlink. The connection was faint and crackling.
“I’m here.”
“… Can’t see….” Robin admitted. “Stones … Energy discharge … Hazy.”
“What about the passer-bys?”
“… Not aware … Batgirl … doesn’t see … Aversion field affect… outside … Reason … Not … Affected … Looking when … Activated.”
“The connection is bad Robin. Hold position and observe. Batman out.”
He watched from behind a pile of rusted out hulks and broken crates as the Veiled Lady lifted her veil removed her pillbox hat to carefully store it in her ever present Neiman Marcus shopping bag. Then she carefully removed the pins securing her updo and allowed her hair to fall past her shoulders and down her back. As her fingers massaged her scalp she toed off her sling-back shoes and buried her toes in dry dusty soil and looked around.
The lot once held a row of townhouses that were burn out and later demolished for safety reasons. Ever since it was used as an unofficial dumping ground for larger pieces of junk and a playground for the younger residents. Weeds and vines managed to claim back some of the land but the effect was patched and tired looking. In some places the brick and asphalt refused to yield causing the green things to grow haphazardly around the man made creations.
As she rolled her shoulders she picked up the shoes and dropped them in the bag before undoing the buttons running down the side of her skirt. Batman watched with wide eyes as she reached for the hooks and buttons securing her dark blue wrap-around skirt at the waist and removed the garment, dropping it carelessly into the bag. The charcoal wool blazer followed the skirt leaving her dressed in just a pale blue thigh-long cotton shirt and her undergarments. She reached for the buttons of her blouse just as a strong gust of wind blew through the lot making her shiver enough to change her mind. Instead she undid the cuffs and rolled the sleeves back to her elbows.
He could see the blades she carried in forearm sheathes and the larger one carried in an inner-thigh holster. Batman wondered if she carried them everywhere or just when moving around Old Gotham. He smirked. Those would definitely be deterrents for any male trying to take advantage of her. He wondered if there were others hidden elsewhere. Firmly he brought his mind to the present and watched.
She used one of the knives to make a series of shallow cuts on her lower limbs and hands. Blood flowed freely staining the tar and dirt. And as she walked around the lots grasses struggled and broke through the asphalt creating small then bigger cracks. Then vines followed in the wake of the grasses further destroying the brick, tar, and concrete relics leaving crumbly expanses of land where shrubs and plants began to bloom from the seeds she cast from a small green silk pouch she had hidden in her bra.
She forced months, years of growth in a matter of minutes, traversing the lot in a spiral working from the inside out. In her wake green bloomed and flourished. She stopped frequently to ‘help’ a bush reach a more advanced state of growth where it would not require frequent tending. Where the bricks and concrete were too strong and stable she grew vines, a profusion of flowering climbers that used the structures as a trellis, creating small nooks and hidey-holes for visitors.
Batman noticed all the plants blooming were ‘wild’ varieties that would not require a lot of water or care. She was creating a natural meadow or young forest. She opened a small pipe leading to the city water mains to create a small step waterfall and shallow pool using the rubble from the asphalt, brick and concrete to line the pond.
And as she walked she bled and became paler and wearier looking. By the time she reached the outer edges of the lot she was swaying from fatigue and Batman had to resist the urge to dart forward to keep her from collapsing and hurting herself.
But she didn’t fall. Using a steel bar scavenged from the debris as a staff she made her way to the center of the lot and half fell half sat on a slab of concrete. It was a full five minutes before she got enough of a second wind to grab her bag, pull out an individual sized wine bottle and uncork it. She took a hefty swig directly from it and cursed as some of the green liquid spilled down her blouse. Her hands were shaking too hard.
She waited until the tremors stopped before she drank more slowly. The effect on her was noticeable. She wasn’t shaking as badly or as pale. The bleeding slowed. Then she produced a handkerchief and started treating her wounds with dabs of green liquid from the wine bottle. The substance was instantly absorbed by her skin leaving almost closed wounds or pink scars. Some sort of medicine that could be taken orally or topically.
He wondered if it would have the same effects on non-magicals. He watched as small hands raked the mass of brown curls back and twisted it into an untidy knot anchored by two pairs of chopsticks she had picked up from the Chinese place where she ate lunch. Then she wiped away the blood and dirt and put on her clothes, tidying herself up in the process. Unrolled sleeves, skirt on, shoes on, hat on, jacket on.
She tilted the wine bottle to drink the last drops of the healing brew it contained and dropped the bottle in the bag. Batman wished she had discarded it. He really wanted to get a sample to find out what it contained. He watched as she bit the fleshy part of her thumb and swiped the blood on one of the hematite stones causing the energy thread to break and fade away. She seemed preoccupied and tired walked around the perimeter of the lot collecting the stones and storing them in her bag. When she was done she strode out of the lot and greeted a group of teens across the street.
She waved her hand and pointed at the lot behind her. “You can use this now. But remember the usual rules apply.”
The teens and pre-teens grinned broadly and cheered before speaking in chorus. “Cleared places are public spaces. No gang can claim them.”
Then the leader spoke in high but not childish tones.
“Don’t worry Veiled Lady. We’ll pass the word.” The girl looked concerned. “Do you need any help? Or anything to eat?”
Hermione waved her hand and shook her head.
“I’m fine. Just follow the rules. Ask around if anyone wants to grow specific plants. There are small nooks that will be taken over in a few months by the vines.”
The girl nodded. “I will.”
Hermione nodded. “The animals and birds will start coming. Usual rules apply. If I find anyone killing or maiming them I will set a Nightmare on the one responsible.” Her voice was hard and unrelenting.
The teens shivered and nodded in unison.
“We won’t.” The youngest boy vowed.
She studied them hard before she nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Let your mothers and Maria know I’ll be busy next week.”
According to the surveillance reports this was typical of her evening and weekend routines. She did not have a social life where she met friends and had fun. She helped teenagers with homework and personal problems, she counselled their mothers and adult siblings, she forced the jostling gang power factions into equilibrium, she advised the ‘elders’ and ‘leaders’ in Old Gotham, and at least once a month she did a major casting that left her drained and exhausted. The only time she did not have any major drain on her resources and energies was when she walked through the cemeteries.
She talked about things happening in the world, in America, in Gotham, in Crime Alley: the Rogues, the mobs, local police and the city council, big businesses, and the economy. What was good, what was bad, what had changed, what was disliked.
And Matches followed as she walked to the older well-maintained family plots. Usually she only stuck to the cemeteries used by the poor and middle-class of Gotham, and the graves belonging to victims of violent crimes. Today for some reason she had chosen to visit a more expensive cemetery and stop by the Wayne Family Plot.
She paid her respects to each grave as she worked her way through the old weathered headstones until she came to a particular pair belonging to Thomas and Martha Wayne. This time she did not sit against the headstone but chose to kneel at the foot of the graves to have a full view of the headstones. It wasn’t too difficult to eavesdrop using a mausoleum as cover.
“Hello Martha. I’m sorry for not stopping by sooner but I thought you would have preferred if I kept up with my rounds. The living do have a higher priority than the dead. It is nice to finally get the chance to talk to you; most of the other dead want to know what is happening in the living world but you want to know what is happening in my life. I am sorry I cannot tell you more about what is happening in your son’s life. We don’t travel in exactly the same social circles you know.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t know; there is always a picture of him attending some event with some pretty girl. Nothing too serious though.” She frowned slightly. “I’m not sure how seriously to take it though. It seems like a lot of window dressing designed to distract whatever is behind the colour.”
She blinked. “I would never!” She scowled. “All right, you don’t have to tell me.” Then she smirked. “And since you aren’t then allow me to have my own opinions. Bruce Wayne is a shallow selfish egotistical playboy.”
He wasn’t quite sure whether he believed in the speaking to the dead aspects of her powers but it still stung if she really was talking to his mother.
“Really? How cute!” Hermione squealed clapping her hands. Then she stopped. “Oh dear! Are you sure? … Oh all right, I won’t tell.” She chuckled, a low throaty sound. “I can see how it would be embarrassing for a grown man but all little boys play pretend games of heroes and villains. Too bad, those pictures of him dressing up as the Grey Ghost, running around with a sheet tied around his neck as a cape, would be worth a fortune to any tabloid.”
He swallowed hard. The Grey Ghost had been his hero as a child. He had often tied a sheet as a cape and play games of pretend. The photos his mother had taken were probably in some album buried in the attics of Wayne Manor.
Then Hermione leaned across from the foot of the grave until she was lying across Martha Wayne’s grave on her belly, her head a foot away from the base of the headstone.
“Andrea Beaumont? I looked her up. There were rumours in the tabloids more than fifteen years back but nothing came of it. She left Gotham with her father. When she returned a few years ago they went out but then she vanished. A few spirits mentioned she had only returned to get revenge on some mob boss who killed her father.”
He paled. Where had she heard that name? How did she know Andrea had returned to Gotham as the Phantasm to get revenge?
Hermione twisted so she was lying on her side, her head propped up on one hand.
“Veronica Vreeland seems to believe he is attached to Selina Kyle. I’m not quite sure it is a healthy relationship though. She seems to specialize in leaving just as their relationship seems to be reaching a turning point.” A pause. “No I am not being catty, Selina Kyle is.” Hermione huffed. “Do you really want your son to marry a criminal? … I’m sure she loves him as much as she can but it isn’t a healthy or stable relationship for either of them. … Well he does date when she leaves Gotham but almost everyone believes they’ll get back together when she returns. And she does do that sporadically.” She laughed. “Okay I’m being mean! I mean he is gorgeous, wealthy, with good genes … Why is she chasing after some vicarious thrill? Doesn’t she want to leave behind a lasting legacy? A positive mark other than daring thievery?”
He winced internally. She was making a little too much sense. Was she right about Selina and him having an unhealthy relationship? If he didn’t make excuses for Selina then Hermione was right; Selina did have the habit of running from commitments.
One small outstretched hand caressed the manicured grass.
“Family. Good memories. Friends. Hope.” Then she rolled onto her back, arms flung out. “I don’t know. For a while I thought Ron was the One.” She dashed away tears. “What am I supposed to do? Lie to every guy I date? Or tell the truth and see the attraction and interest turn to fear?” She stared straight into the cloudy skies. “I can’t. How am I supposed to explain what I can do? What I need to do? Or why I don’t want to leave Gotham despite the Rogues, the danger and the negative reputation.”
Absently she tugged off one glove using teeth on the tips of the fingers before she rolled on her side and reached out. Her bare fingers brushed the dried and almost petal free stems resting at the base of the headstone. Fluidly she sat up and brushed the brittle cut stems over her lips. Thorns began to sprout from the dead wood, stabbing into her lips and fingers drawing blood. Carefully she set the sticks perpendicular to the grass and held it with faintly glowing and bleeding fingers. In seconds smaller branches and leaves began sprouting from the one foot long almost dead stick of wood. In a few minutes it had bloomed into a small but luxuriant rose bush with the palest peach buds ripening and unfurling into large but fragrant blooms. She broke off two of the blooms and placed them at the base of the Wayne headstones with a warm smile.
“I don’t know why your son brings red roses when you preferred peach and yellow roses.” She grinned. “He’s probably so used to ordering red roses for all his girlfriends.” She chuckled warmly. “I’m not going to tell him anything. Let him figure out how a rose bush got planted on your grave.”
Wanting to know more he accompanied Robin on his rounds tracking Hermione Granger and came across more fragments of information about magical families and enclaves. The surprising knowledge that many Crime Alleys residents knew about magic and how it could be used for their benefit.
The middle-aged woman with greying blonde hair nodded vigorously before speaking in a heavily accented voice.
“Oh yes milady. My daughter’s brother-in-law is the apartment manager. Most of the residents agreed to contribute.” She picked up a picnic cooler and placed it on the table before them and opened it.
Batman watched warily through binoculars across the street, listening through a parabolic mic pointed at Yanet Ivanovka’s apartment window. What were the residents of Crime Alley contributing? And why? Was it exotic food or drugs from an illicit source?
His eyes widened when he saw just what Ivanovka was removing from the cooler; small vials of dark reddish liquid. Was that blood?
“My daughter-in-laws second cousin is a receptionist at Dr. Thompkins clinic. She managed to swipe a packet of needles and syringes.” Yanet assured the Veiled Lady. “Ilsa drew the blood herself. All in the last two hours. You can still use it right?” Yanet looked anxious. “My grand-mother said fresh blood is best.”
Hermione Granger sighed. “I can but are you sure Yanet? You will be binding yourself to this apartment building for a full year. And every year it will need to be renewed.”
Yanet lifted her chin. “I am sure Veiled Lady. My children were born here. My grand-children live here. My friends and family have died here. No more. Please. I asked a cousin who still speaks to me if she could refer a warder but all of them refuse to even step into Gotham.”
“You are a squib?”
“Yes milady. When I didn’t receive an invitation to one of the schools my family cast me out. I met my husband in the orphanage. When Piotr received the job in Gotham I followed him.” Yanet’s mouth trembled. “If I had known I would have begged him to stay in Chicago. He probably would have had to work in the railway yards as a loader but he would still be alive.”
Hermione shook her head. “You cannot know that Yanet.”
Yanet rubbed her tears away. “He was a good husband. A good father. When he and my eldest boy were killed it nearly destroyed me. My other children were the only reason why I kept going. I begged my family for help… to help us move back to Chicago but my father sent the letter back saying he had no daughter named Yanet. My mother was always weak… I doubt she fought him on it.”
Hermione thought hard. “Okay. I’ll ward this building but you must understand it will not be a complete protection. I’m layering it on top so it will need to be renewed. A proper warding is Built into the foundations and supporting columns. I can only set up nets for old traditional protections in the entry points and public areas. Calm down. Peace and Tranquility. Look by me. Rest and hide.”
Yanet nodded vigorously. “Boris has agreed to not paint over any markings you make. No one else will care about blood stains or marks in this building.”
Hermione touched the older woman’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this? It will be a personal drain on your energy.”
“If it keeps my family and kin safe I do not mind.” Yanet smiled sadly. “It is kind of you to ask milady. My father never asked when he did his rituals.”
“He is a barbarian. A prejudiced bigoted ignorant arrogant fool!” Hermione snarled. “You do not take! Not without permission!”
“I am willing milady.”
Hermione nodded. “Very well. Call anyone willing to be anchors for the warding.”
Batman and Robin took photos from every angle they could and a thorough research into very obscure linguistic sources revealed the symbols, glyphs, markings were a combination of Norse runes and other extinct languages all of which represented protection, safety, health, sanctuary, and other unknown concepts. Careful observation of the apartment building proved the glyphs had some sort of effect. Gangs tracking a victim failed to follow said target into the apartment building. Predators seeking violence could not enter, did not want to enter; instead they choose to target those living across the street.
Within a few weeks other small neighbourhood watch groups approached the Veiled Lady with similar requests. In most cases she agreed, in a few she refused saying the building was not suitable for warding. The residents who asked her ended up moving into buildings that were already warded. The net effect was the more peaceable residents of Crime Alley were less at risk in their own homes. The warded apartment buildings were much safer than the rest of the neighbourhood. There were still break-ins and killings but at a much reduced rate than before.
Batman was certain that the property caretakers and rent collectors were definitely aware of what Hermione Granger was doing and they were not informing the property owners of the new situation. If the owners knew their buildings were safer than others they most definitely would have tried to increase the rent, driving out the families currently residing there.
A conversation with Jason Blood revealed more information about the magical enclaves, traditional pureblood families who refused to acknowledge ‘squibs’ and saw them as lesser or handicapped beings, a community that looked down on first generation magic users without the lineage or influence of a magical family, one which bound and exiled Necroscopes. What he heard about their society, culture, and laws did not reassure him about their general intelligence, competence, or compassion for those less fortunate.
Everything indicated she was a stable responsible civic-minded woman. Just who and what had driven her to America? To Gotham, the most corrupt and dissolute city on the East Coast? How had she survived more than a year of being bound? How could she still do magic? Why hadn’t she gone insane like all past Necroscopes? Did she have someone who she could talk to, someone who stabilized and anchored her like Alfred stabilized Bruce Wayne and Batman? He needed to know. He needed to talk to her.
She rolled out of bed uncaring he could see her legs almost to the tops of her thighs. She liked to sleep in oversized men’s t-shirts. She dragged a flannel robe on and tied the belt.
“What do you want?” She asked grumpily. She was not in the mood to hear any of his lectures. She had thought she had seen the last of him with The Joker.
“I know you were bound and exiled. Everyone I speak to say you are a threat. I want the details. Why you are still alive and why aren’t you insane?”
Hermione paled. Her hands trembled. “You know…?”
“Yes. But I want to hear it from you.” His voice softened a tad. “Tell me.”
She rubbed the side of her face before scraping her hair back. Loose strands had escaped from the braid forming a fuzzy halo around her head.
“This is going to be a long story. I need coffee. And alcohol.” She mumbled.
Batman followed her into the kitchen and watched as she put the coffee to brew while she opened several cabinets before producing a bottle of sherry.
“You know I have a roommate.” She mumbled as she prepared an extra large mug of coffee black with plenty of sugar. Tears dripped down her face. Her mother was no longer alive to nag at her about eating processed sugar.
“She spends every other night with her boyfriend.” Batman countered imperviously.
Hermione added a large dash of sherry and took a gulp of the hot liquid.
“I didn’t know you were stalking me.” She grumbled.
“I am concerned.” He pointed out. “Of a potential unknown threat in my city.”
Hazel eyes turned to molten gold. “This is my home too!”
He stared at her hard. “Then tell me.”
And she did.
She spoke of the odd things that happened when she was a child. How relieved she was to get a letter when she turned eleven, to find out she wasn’t Odd. The excitement and challenge of studying magic, the prejudice and scorn from the old families. The bigotry, racism, unfair laws, oblivious citizenry at every level of Wizarding society. The past Dark Lords, the most recent war she fought in as a teenager. How happy she was when it was all over and done, she was alive, her friends were alive, her parents unhappy with her actions but alive. And then being captured by Andros Carrow.
Her voice was unnaturally calm; her eyes dry as she explained Andros Carrow was not actively prosecuted since there were others who had committed more serious crimes. He was let off on a plea bargain consisting of a hefty bribes and lip-service. Everyone had believed he would not do anything stupid, not with the entire community having twitchy reflexes coming out of a war. But he did. He gathered like minded revenge seeking friends and chose to target a Muggleborn.
“I won’t tell you what happened. Suffice to say they did everything but rape me. I was not worthy of being touched by anything but their fists and feet. When they brought my parents in I nearly broke. I would have done anything to save them. Anything. It took my father eight hours to die. My mother died thirty minutes later. When she died the last thing she did was forgive me. For modifying their memories and sending them away. Said she understood now why I did it. To save them from that.” Her voice was filled with hatred and self-loathing. “But I didn’t save them! They were still targeted and killed!”
Batman shifted. “You did what you could. You didn’t know.”
Hermione shook her head and scraped her hair back. By now her hair was out of its braid and falling in front of her shoulders.
“I should have. I’ve seen how prideful the purebloods are. They remember every slight. They never let anything go.”
“You are not responsible for the actions of others.” Batman’s voice was harsh. “What happened next?”
“I lost it. Everything was light and fire.” Her voice was wondering. “My parents were there. They hugged me and told me everything was going to be all right. There were a few others as well, a retired Sergeant, a teacher and a pilot. They had been killed in that warehouse just a few hours before my parents died. And then I blacked out. When I woke up I was in the hospital. I didn’t understand why I was in a non-magical hospital until the Aurors came and took me before the Wizengamot. The two weeks I was in a coma they had been debating my future and no one bothered speaking up for me. Even Harry.” Her pain was very clear. “I thought he would have helped me. He knew about enclave prejudice. Everyone always said a wizard who could understand snakes, a Parselmouth, would be a Dark Lord. Harry could and when the whole school turned against him… But I didn’t; it was just a talent, not something to be terrified of.”
“What happened?” He asked gently.
“Everything had already been settled. They were just waiting for me to wake up for the Binding Ritual. I did not even have a chance to protest or argue in my defence.” She laughed, a harsh bitter sound. “My favourite teacher, my mentor was one of those who cast the Binding on me. When it was done they dropped me off at my parents’ house. If it wasn’t for Mummy and Daddy’s dental practice partners and lawyers showing up, I probably would have killed myself that week. They kept me anchored and sort of stable while they helped me deal with the estate and financial matters. Once I made the funeral arrangements, sold their interest in the practice, the house, and settled all the mortgages and debts, there was a small sum left over. I used it to live while I studied for my O-levels. Then I applied for a job at Wayne Enterprises. One of my mother’s friends worked in H.R. She set-up the interview and gave me a reference.”
Batman nodded slowly. “Why did you choose to take the transfer out of London? Why did you choose Gotham?”
She swirled her cup and took a gulp of the cooling coffee before answering.
“I couldn’t stay in London. Everywhere I turned it itched. The binding. It creates a psychosomatic reaction in the bound and any magic user within range. There are too many wizards in England. Even if I avoided the enclaves the Halfbloods and Muggleborns still move in non-magical society.” She inhaled deeply. “My bed-sit was trashed a couple of times. There was no sign of forced entry. I took it as a sign to get out. I chose America because it is across the ocean and so big. There is less chance of bumping into wizards here. The ratio of magicals to Muggles is quite low.”
“Then why choose Gotham?”
“Because there are no trained wizards or witches in Gotham.”
Batman’s eyes widened in disbelief. “None? I find that hard to believe. Some of the gangs believe in magic. There are occult experts who live here.”
“But they aren’t enclave trained wand-users.” Hermione pressed. “There is something about Gotham that makes it very uncomfortable for them.”
Batman frowned. “Do you know why?”
“I believe I do.”
“And?” He growled when she did not expand.
She stared at him before making a decision. “This is just a personal theory. I don’t know how correct or accurate it is.” She warned. He merely stared at her. She sighed internally before she began explaining. “How much do you know of the local history?”
“Quite a lot actually. The Dutch bought the land as it were from the Iroquois and it was taken over by the English.”
Hermione nodded. “The Iroquois warned the Dutch that the land was… odd. It changes. The Europeans ignored the local superstition and went ahead and settled it. People moved in and the city grew. The land did not change until after the Great Depression. Too many people were suffering. Their suffering began to change the land.”
Batman’s eyes widened. “What?!?”
She held up a hand. “Remember this is just my theory.” She stressed. “Do you ever wonder why the residents are so quick to believe the worst, to resort to violence? Crime Alley and Arkham are just two places where darkness dominates the people.” She rubbed her arms. “Every time I walk on the streets I feel it; the heavy air, the almost taint-like feel in certain places. I checked with an information broker from the Salem Enclave. In the past there were fifteen students accepted from Gotham, and they all went bad. The wand-users have marked Gotham as No Wizards Land and strongly encourage wizards to avoid the city. The depression, the crime families, the Rogues… they haven’t helped either. Muggleborns in Gotham will never be offered training.” She smiled bitterly. “Just like all Necroscopes are sentenced to be bound. It is unfortunate. I know a few Crime Alley residents who could have easily been wand-users if they had the training. Maria Lopez, a naturopathic herbalist and healer. And there is Ramona Hernandez who will take over from Maria eventually. Enrico Carrero is a mechanic but he feels magical.”
Batman considered the information. “What is your theory? What is causing the taint? The negative atmosphere?”
She stood up and left the kitchenette. A few seconds later she returned with a phone book she placed on the table between them. She flipped through the pages until she came to a map of Gotham depicting the mainland and the three primary islands.
“I managed to find some old Iroquois myths that gave me the first clues. I believe Gotham is sitting on a tangled web of leylines; magic and power produced by the Earth itself. It would have made the land very fertile and attractive to settlers. Unfortunately such lands are also very sensitive to people living on it. When people despaired the nodes became tainted affecting the people living close by. As their hearts became darker the land reflected that darkness.” She tapped the locations of Crime Alley and Arkham Asylum on the map. “The oldest parts of the city and the darkest; everything else feeds on and reflects off the core.”
Batman frowned. He had heard of leylines and nodes in his research. They were also things Blood had mentioned in passing.
“Why hasn’t this happened more often and in other cities?” Batman wanted to know.
“Nodes are usually claimed by the local religion as consecrated grounds. Lands tended by trained priests tend to stay pure because they are cleansed by special rituals developed by that particular religion.”
Batman scowled. “Then what do you suggest? Get a couple of tankers of holy water and flood the streets?”
Hermione had to smile. “I’m afraid that would not have much of an effect. The nodes and leylines themselves have to be cleansed.” Then her eyes sharpened. “I would strongly suggest not approaching which ever local priest you trust. The land has been tainted for decades. It will take a major ritual to purify. After that the churches can keep the nodes untainted.”
He stared at her. “Can you do it?”
Hermione poured sherry into her empty cup and sipped. “Why are you asking me?” She asked sardonically. “I’m the bound one remember?”
Eyes hidden behind white lenses bored into her. “No. You are not bound; not completely. You can use magic.” His voice was certain. “I’ve seen it.”
Her hands trembled. “The Joker was a fluke. The death energy charged me up.”
“And what of the cemeteries? The vacant lots you’ve made into gardens? The memorial monuments of stone and steel?” He cocked his head. “You are changing things in The Narrows and Crime Alley. There is hope there, hope and light. If you can do it there why can’t you do it for all of Gotham?”
“NO!” She took a deep swallow of alcohol ignoring the burn in her throat.
“Why not?”
“Just Because!” She snarled and looked away.
He did not relent. “Tell me.”
She picked up her coffee cup and began to pace around her small living room. Between sips she talked very fast, almost absently.
“Gotham has become my home; my sanctuary, my haven. No one sneers at me for being a Muggleborn witch and a Necroscope. I don’t have to fear bumping into a wizard or being attacked by one of them. I do what I do in the poorer districts because I want to make their lives better; because I serve the living and the dead, because I ask the spirits and make no personal demands they look favourably on me. The dead are willing to work with me to channel magic that will protect and help their still living relatives and friends.
“But if I work on too big a scale the enclaves will notice. They will come looking.” She stopped and stared at him. “They will want to know who is using large scale magic. They will find me. And they will know I am supposed to be: a Bound Necroscope. Since the Binding is clearly not working as it is supposed to, they will kill me.” She smiled bitterly. “You can’t stop them. That day I will vanish, just another missing statistic in Gotham.”
Batman was silent. “If you weren’t worried about Them could you do it?”
She was quiet while she considered the question. “Maybe. I don’t know. I would need a lot of money to locate and buy the necessary books and tools, perhaps hire a middle-man since I cannot go into the enclaves myself. I’d have to spend even more time mapping Gotham to trace the leylines and find the exact location of the nodes. If they are within residential areas the land has to be bought for whatever religious group who is going to be made responsible for keeping it untainted. And I don’t trust big organized religions that much. I would prefer if the land is kept in trust and leased for say 99 years to a local church group at a very nominal rent.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But none of this matters. The moment a wand-user notices Gotham is recovering the wand-user immigration will start. And I will be in danger.”
Batman wanted to shout at her. How could she be so selfish to hold her own personal safety over an entire city? But then he remembered she was a civilian. A civilian who fought a war to protect others and was then betrayed by the same society she helped to save. Why would she care for the whole when a whole betrayed her? She looked at the people, the individuals who needed her.
She chewed on her lower lip. “I plan on continuing with what I am currently doing. I will keep up with my circuits to renew the protections in Old Gotham.” She hesitated. “You can find someone else to do the research and purification.” She inhaled deeply. “Just let me know if it works. So I can get out of Gotham.”
Batman stood up and took her hands. He looked down at her. “What would it take to make you change your mind about trying?”
She laughed, a half-sob half-choked sound. “If you can keep the wizards out of Gotham I will definitely try. No, I Will purify the nodes.”
Batman considered that. A perfectly reasonable request. She had been here first; she merely wanted to stay. Besides he didn’t like the idea of wand-users moving into Gotham with their prejudice, bigotry, and abusive laws. No; Gotham was His City. But how to keep an entire group of people Out? How closely did the enclaves obey the Declaration of Independence? Not very given what he’d heard about their communities.
“Is it possible to keep them out? From what you’ve told me the enclaves are very feudal and rule bound. What are the rules about them forming new enclaves? Can they do that anywhere they feel like or are there certain criteria that must be met?”
Hermione blinked and thought hard. “The ICW rules are pretty standard. Any wizard can start an enclave in unclaimed territory. Whether it is open unused land or a Muggle city. I know Chicago has three enclaves held by three different consortiums.”
Batman frowned. “But all the land here is held by non-magicals.” He pointed out.
“They don’t matter in a wizards view. If 0.25 square miles of every 4 square miles is held by a witch or wizard that area is considered as Claimed. Another wizard cannot move in and form an enclave. The rules were made to stop friction between different groups. You would need to get permission from the wizard with the Claim before you can buy land and move in. If you didn’t get it you would buy land elsewhere, usually just outside his Claim. Many magical families would join and form a consortium to buy Claim plots to create a buffer zone and the land that will actually be developed in a narrow strip. The strips form Alleys that are then hidden from the Muggle population.”
Batman nodded. “Stop calling us Muggles.”
“Excuse me?”
“Muggles sound like a derogatory term.” Batman pointed out bluntly. “It is something They use. Think of something else.”
Hermione considered his words. “What do you think of mundanes?”
“Are we really mundane?”
Hermione had the impression he was raising an eyebrow under his cowl. “Then what about mortals?”
“Accurate. Mortal, meta, mage.” He noticed her surprised expression. “Mage seems to be a more suitable gender neutral term.”
Hermione smiled faintly. “You are right. Mage.” She nodded firmly. “I like it. I also think newblood sounds better than Muggleborn. And oldblood makes more sense than pureblood.”
Batman nodded. “You said the ownership has to be held by a mage? A wand-user?”
Hermione made a face. “Yes! And trust me I definitely don’t have enough money to buy land on that scale.”
“If the land is held in trust for you would that work?”
Hermione blinked. “Actually yes. They may have tried to bind me but I can still do magic. My wand was snapped but I have increased my wandless and wordless magic…” She looked at him. “But who has that much money?” Then she made a face. “Correction, who has that much money and is willing to spend it on a very slim possibility of saving Gotham, the most dangerous city in America?”
“Let me worry about that.”
Hermione blinked and stared at Lucius. She must have misheard. “Excuse me?”
Lucius smiled tolerantly. “Mr. Wayne would like to see you in his office.” Then Lucius cocked his head. “You do know where his office is, don’t you?”
“Yes. But why does he want to see me?”
“When you find out let me know.”
“He’s ready for you.”
Hermione had to force her feet to move to the large embossed doors. She inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and entering the large interior designed office. It was glass, steel, cream, and black furnished with several pieces of art and overstuffed chairs forming a conversational nook. She could see discreet doors presumably leading to an executive washroom or private meeting room.
Bruce Wayne was sitting behind the granite-topped desk reviewing a file on screen. He rose from his seat and came around the table carrying a netbook computer.
“Thank you for coming on short notice.”
She smiled hesitantly. “You are my employer Mr. Wayne. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Please sit down.” And then he took her hand and guided her to sit on one of the chairs while he took the other at right angle next to her. Deftly he set the netbook on the low glass-topped table and began pulling up some files. “I had a visitor a few days ago.” Then his eyes met hers. “A certain individual usually on call every night.”
Hermione stilled and tried to rise. “I’m sorry I don’t know what you are talking—.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Sit down!” Then his tone softened. “Where do you think Batman gets his gear?” Hazel eyes widened in shocked comprehension. “Yes. It is a partnership that works pretty well. I’ve spent millions trying to save Gotham. He tells me you might have a way to turn Gotham around.”
Hermione pulled her hand free and fidgeted. “What did he tell you?”
“He said you’re a magic-user and a Necroscope. You can speak to the dead and you have a theory that might make things better for everyone in Gotham. Something that will require a significant cash flow to control certain key pieces of real estate.”
Her eyes widened. “You believe? In magic?” She asked hesitantly.
Bruce Wayne laughed. “Miss Granger, with the way the Rogues constantly break out and going on destructive crime sprees I’m willing to try voodoo if it works.” He saw she was still hesitant. “It doesn’t matter if I believe. I trust Batman’s judgment and he believes you. If you made him believe it’s good enough for me.”
Then she began speaking slowly then more quickly. Explaining her theory, potential avenues of exploration, the cash outlays required.
Bruce considered the information. “I can’t help with the magic research but I have no problems bankrolling it. I can set up an account for you with hundred thousand to start.”
Hermione shook her head. “Could you have forty in gold coins, thirty in gems preferably diamonds or opals, and the last thirty in cash? Some of the people I’ll be dealing with will not accept American dollars.”
Bruce nodded. “Give me two days. You’ll need a safe box as well.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “And the services of a discreet dependable courier. One who will not peek or gossip or freak.”
Bruce nodded. “You can use the one Lucius has on retainer. He has the contact information. What else do you need?”
Hermione thought hard. “Access to the local histories. First account journals. It will help me backtrack how the Change spread. I will also need to trespass on private properties while surveying and mapping.” She hesitated. “This is going to be a full-time job. I can’t do this in the evenings or weekends and it isn’t something I can delegate.”
“No problem. Lucius will find a temporary Research Associate for the next six months. You’re working on a special project for me. What else?”
“You’ll need to buy the land the nodes are located on, for at least a half mile radius.” She warned. “I don’t know what we’d do if it is near a historical monument or something like a stadium or apartment building.”
Bruce Wayne’s cobalt blue eyes were steely. “Then I will buy it out. Or make sufficient endowment to shut it down for restoration or something similar. I’ll buy the land around it and work on getting the Mayor to move ownership and maintenance to a trust.” He hesitated. “As a last resort we can arrange an accident. A gas leak or something similar to force the residents to vacate. Wayne Enterprises will pick up their relocation costs of course.”
Hermione stared at him. Gone was the idle hedonistic playboy. This was what she had sensed off at their first meeting. The indolent panther waiting to pounce. A man with a core of pure steel. She swallowed hard.
“Can you buy the necessary parcels of land?”
“Wayne Enterprises owns a great deal of real estate in Gotham. We’ll move what we can move to the trust before we start buying.” His eyes were sharp. “You understand the assets will be just held in your name, you will not be permitted to sell or use them as collateral. A fractional percentage will be allocated to you as income.”
Hermione shook her head. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Then donate all of it to whatever charity you favour.” He countered. “The money is yours for your lifetime.” His expression turned grim. “We’ll need to figure out what to do for the future.”
Hermione hesitated before speaking up. “You could adopt a mage. I could help you find one from an orphanage. If you raise him or her right, with your values…” She trailed off.
He considered the suggestion. “It’s an idea for the future. But for now we have to make this work. How soon can you get started?”
“Immediately. I’d like to start with Gotham Central Library Archives.”
He looked amused. “I think you can wait until tomorrow.” He looked at the clock. “Will you join me for lunch Miss Granger?”
She looked hesitant before nodding. “Please call me Mia.”
Inwardly Bruce smiled though he merely nodded gravely. “Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne is too formal given how much we’ll be working together in the future.”
As though sensing her discomfort the butler caught her eye in the rear view mirror.
“Do not think of it Miss Granger. Steven Hawk Wing knows Master Bruce quite well. Thomas Wayne endowed a trust that helps finance post-secondary education for quite a few of the local residents. There is quite a bit of history and friendship between Mr. Hawk Wings clan and the Waynes. His grandfather, William Hawk Eye is old but his memory is quite sharp. In his younger days he was the shaman for his tribe.”
Hermione Granger smiled hesitantly at the elderly Native with rheumy clouded eyes. He seemed to be looking through her and into her soul. Firmly she pushed that away. Then her mouth opened and she began speaking in archaic phrases.
“William Hawk Eye, I seek knowledge and wisdom from the old days. The time for rebirth draws close and the land must be cleansed and healed.”
Then her eyes widened in shock. She had never intended to say that!
The elderly man smiled. “New at being a Mouth aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. She darted a quick look at the other two men in the room. “Don’t worry. Stevie-boy will hold his tongue and Alfred is discretion itself.”
She hesitated only for a few seconds. “You know?”
William nodded slowly and held out a hand. Hermione placed her small smooth one in his darker gnarled one. He stroked the smooth pale skin his eyes distant. “I was the tribe’s Shaman in my younger days. I never received an invitation for formal training from the bigger schools but I have a touch of the gift, nothing on the scale I sense you do.”
“Yes.”
“But there is something else. Something Wrong.” His hands moved up her forearm, across her collarbone and down towards her heart and lower to her waist. His eyes darkened dangerously. “Who did this to you?”
Tears shimmered and threatened to fall. “My old teachers.” She admitted.
William was aghast. “They Bound a sane and stable Mouth? But why?!?”
Tears fell freely now. A warning glance from the elderly Native kept the other two away as he pulled her to sit down beside him.
“Tell me child.”
And she did.
“William Hawk Eye has some magical talent, enough to become a Shaman. There are some tribal magic and rituals that allow Shamans to channel spirits. Steven Hawk Wing doesn’t have active magic though he has enough for a highly developed sixth sense and sharp intuition. The Native Indians have two primary magic schools, one in Arizona and one in Florida though most of the advance training in specific tribal magic is done through local apprenticeships.
“The Native Indians also have a very different view of Necroscopes, Mouths to the Spirits. They are honoured and respected for having a very rare and powerful gift. When their power becomes active they are immediately apprenticed to the tribe’s Shaman for six months. They undergo several purification rituals and practice meditation and fasting to keep the power untainted. After the six-month probationary period they are much less likely to go Dark and insane. They tried telling this to the ICW to repeal the Necroscope exiling laws but no one believed ‘savages’ had techniques that would keep a Necroscope from going mad. The few born to the tribes in last three centuries stayed away from the other enclaves and were highly respected. It was on their advice that the Native magical enclaves were set up decades before the Europeans began to move into the West. Native Reservations may appear quite poor but the bigger ones have thriving magical communities existing alongside what most people see.”
“Is Hermione planning on any research trips to the Native enclaves?”
“She hasn’t mentioned it to me Master Bruce but she has received a lot of invitations to visit the ones within one day driving distance. Apparently Necroscopes who are also magic-users are quite desirable as spouses among the Native enclaves. In the three hours we had quite a few guests drop in, mainly young men and women with male relatives interested in setting up future meetings.”
Bruce snorted softly. “In the graveyard she said she doubted if she could find anyone who would believe and not fear her. Given her experience in the European enclaves I can understand.” He paused. “Did she appear interested in any of them?”
Alfred shook his head. “Miss Granger appeared quite shocked by the flood of potential suitors. She showed no clear preference and made no promises. She was more interested in William Hawk Eye. She plans on visiting twice a week to learn from him, Native magic and history. Though after this project is done I cannot say.”
Bruce hesitated. “And Steven? How did he react?”
“She is an attractive young woman. One very acceptable to his relatives.”
Hermione glanced up at him. She knew the significance of this day. How could she not when she could see it etched in stone? They were standing before the graves of his parents. This time he was holding a pair of yellow roses, for affection and friendship.
“You can speak to spirits.” It was more of a question than a statement.
“Yes.”
“And my parents?” He looked hesitant and apprehensive.
“Your father is more interested in actions and results. He is a bit sad about what you are doing but he says he is not disappointed and understands your choices. He did something similar when he was younger, before he married your mother.” She looked at the headstones. “He wants you to move on though and let the legacy be carried by the new generation.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure what legacy he is talking about though. Maybe he wants you to start taking on more responsibilities at Wayne Corp.”
Or maybe he is talking about Batman.
“He is very proud of you. You are taking a stand for what you believe in. Just like many other Wayne ancestors including Robert and Solomon. But he is worried that you aren’t paying too much attention to the family name and your personal life. Scandal is never forgotten, only replaced.”
Perhaps Alfred did have a point.
“Your mother speaks to me more often. She is both proud and worried. She is not telling me of what though. She regrets she cannot speak to the three boys you fostered. She wants you to be careful.” She giggled and looked up with laughing eyes. “She says you spend too much time brooding in your hole. Do you brood Bruce? You don’t appear to be the type.” Then her eyes sharpened. “But then again I don’t know much about what you are really like.” She looked away. “She likes the boys but she wants you to get married and have children. You spend too much time alone in a big empty house with only Alfred for company. But she is proud of you taking in almost adult teens and very amused with the way you fret when they leave the nest. Martha says it would be less stressful to raise your own children who do not have old wounds and abandonment fears influencing their spinal reactions. There is a lot of satisfaction and joy found in watching a child grow from a baby into a distinct personality. She doesn’t want you to fight with your eldest. He is a grown man and needs to find his own path. It is natural he feels loyalty to his biological parents and his early memories, just as you do. But he does love you and wants you to be proud of him. He will come back when he feels he is ready; when he does be gracious.”
Bruce stilled. Dick had established himself in Bludhaven. There were times when they worked together on cases but there was always an underlying tension.
“She says Barbara Gordon is a nice girl but a little too young for you, mentally and spiritually. She sees things in black and white while you see the grey. And she is not ruthless and selfish enough to fight you on what matters to her.” Hermione was curious and confused. “She was disappointed by Talia. Loyalty to family is important but not when it hurts so many others. Very few men can live as long as Ra’s without going bitter and fanatical. She strongly wants you to reconsider how you interact with him. Too many have died for his megalomaniac vision, too many scream for justice.” Her voice became hollow and deep, her irises became clouded by a milky film of white. “Too many pay the price he is unwilling to pay. Death for Life. Sacrifice for Growth. Change for Evolution.” The milky film faded. “How many has he killed Bruce?”
Bruce was silent. “Too many.”
“Is he a wizard?” Hermione wanted to know. “What I saw…” She shuddered.
“He may be a wizard. I don’t know. I met him during my travels.”
“And you formed a relationship with his daughter.” She concluded.
“I didn’t know Talia was his daughter until much later.” He admitted.
Hermione’s eyes were distant. “She loves you but she loves her father more. One day you will have to stop him. Only death can stop one like him.” Her eyes were sympathetic. “That day her love will transform into hate. She has invested too much of herself into pleasing him.”
“I try not to think about that.” Bruce admitted.
There was a comfortable silence between the two of them as the sun sank lower in the sky.
“Do all the dead speak to you?”
“Of course not! I would go insane if that were the case.”
“Then how does it work?”
“Only the very strong and determined remain behind after dying. They are the ones I freely interact with. There are always many of them in Gotham and most are agreeable to helping me. After a few months they usually move on. After I started working for Corporate Archives I figured out how to Call for a particular soul or for expertise in a certain field. I cheated to do my research work. There are always programmers, hackers, accountants, lawyers, and other experts who are interested and willing to help me track down information Lucius requested. I learned quite a bit from them.”
“Do you retain all their skills?”
“Only if I practice it.” She admitted. “If I had to I could probably do emergency surgery or complete a set of architectural drawings and plans for a new neighbourhood subdivision but I would prefer not to. I keep up with programming and hacking on my own time.”
“Can you force them to answer? To give you information or help you?”
“I could but I won’t.” Gold flecked hazel eyes were steady and calm. “I won’t force another into doing my bidding. I don’t want slaves. The only reason why I can still do magic is because they showed me how to use other ways to channel. I will not betray that trust. If no one answers I will wait. If they are unwilling I will try negotiating a bargain. A lot of the people who died in Crime Alley respond because they do not want to be forgotten. I created the memorials for them and to help the living remember.”
Bruce nodded in understanding.
The blood stains were long gone and the alley had been transformed into a small garden of shrubs and grasses below a white healing caduceus blasted and dyed on the red brick wall. Below it were two names and a particular date on a metal plate melding into the wall. There were two concrete planters that could easily double as benches before it.
Bruce sank onto one of them staring at the two yellow rose bushes growing on an arch trellis of wrought metal attached to the wall that framed the caduceus.
“There is a notice-me-not charm at the mouth of the alley. Only those seeking peace and quiet will be able to enter. They will be reluctant to talk about what they’ve seen here. I’ve spoken to some of the families who live in this block. They are willing to water the plants and do some basic maintenance. I tried to summon an elemental fae but none are willing to put roots in Gotham. They are afraid of being twisted by the fluxing tainted nodes.” She hesitated. “When we succeed I would like to make a larger memorial garden here. Your mother… Martha… She loved plants. It could be a playground or community kitchen garden.” She looked over her shoulder. “Something for the residents to take pride in. To bring beauty and life from death and loss.”
Bruce stared with dry eyes at the memorial. The roses loved by his mother, the emblem his father lived by. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He glanced over. “Remind me to buy this block for the Eos Trust. It can be the core for our renewal plans in the future.”
“Of course.”
Hermione stood up and smiled at the teenager who had kept her entertained with a quick tour of Wayne Manor while Bruce wrapped up an international phone call.
“Thank you for the tour Mr. Drake.”
The teenager grinned bashfully. “Call me Tim. Mr. Drake makes me look around for my father.”
Hermione chuckled. “All right. Tim. And please call me Hermione.”
“Not Mia?” He asked teasingly, and then at her inquiring look he explained. “I heard Bruce talking to Alfred about you.”
“Perhaps in time. For now call me Hermione.”
Tim nodded and watched the not gorgeous but striking woman follow Alfred. He resisted the urge to eavesdrop. Bruce would let him know what was happening and Tim had time to get to know her better.
“Summarize the report for me and give me your recommendations.”
“I’ve completed the preliminary historical research on Gotham using first account sources and the local mythology. I believe there are at least three nodes, one for each island. Given past events I strongly believe the island containing Arkham and the Narrows itself has a node. For over a century no one wanted to formally develop it, the only residents were the poor who could not afford anything better than The Narrows. Then Harvey Dent, an Outsider, came in and pushed his idea for building a new penitentiary on it. Since then the violence and menace has simply escalated out of control.”
Bruce nodded grimly as he studied her historical data. The more people moved into The Narrows the worse it became. An accelerating growth curve that was hidden due to the large increase in illegal residents.
“It is going to be the most difficult buy so I’m suggesting you start campaigning now. Sell it to the mayor… Say Arkham has a bad reputation for breakouts, something might be flawed in the location, structure or concept. Offer to help finance a new prison with better security either on the mainland or on one of the smaller islands off South Hinkley. It is mostly industrial so there shouldn’t be too much problems getting it rezoned.”
Dark blue eyes narrowed. “There are some private islands near Blackgate. In fact Wayne Real Estate might have interest in a few of them.”
“You can either sell it outright or lease for 99 years at nominal rates for a tax concession. But don’t make an offer until I map and clear it.” Hermione suggested with a faint smile.
Bruce nodded slowly. “It makes more sense. There will be better control since there are very few local residents living on the islands.” He frowned. “Why hasn’t something like this been suggested before?”
“You are a busy man and sometimes it takes an outsider to point out what should be obvious. Or the nodes are having a subtle influence on people who live in Gotham, the longer you live here the harder it is to detect and fight it.”
“What do you mean?”
Hermione thought hard. “Have you travelled to the Far East Bruce?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever entered certain monasteries or gardens and felt completely at peace?” His eyes widened slightly. “Felt like you could stay there forever? Whenever you looked around you saw happy smiling faces? People who knew exactly what they were and what they wanted? People who cared about humanity and life?”
“Yes.”
“That place was probably over a well-tended node. It can be almost addictive, you can’t help but buy into the feel of the place. If there is peace you are at peace. If there is violence you react with violence.”
“If this works will Gotham feel like that?” Bruce’s voice was disbelieving.
“Not immediately. Not for many decades. It will take time to undo the general disbelief and apathetic mindset. An entire generation has to grow up and replace ours as the dominating influence on the land.”
Bruce remembered the Zen gardens he had visited, a particular mountain shrine in Japan. If he could bring that to Gotham it would be worth the time and money. He nodded firmly.
“Okay. I’ll talk to Commissioner Gordon before I start lobbying the City Council. If I get him on my side it can only help.” He looked at her sharply. “What is your next step?”
“I need to map Gotham mystically.” Her eyes were even and calm. “All of it.”
He frowned. “Even the docks, industrial parks, warehouses, and alleys?”
“Pretty much all of it. I’ll need to stop every hundred meters and send out a pulse to map everything within that zone. It will mainly need to be done on foot.”
He considered that information. “First do the public, safe, tourist areas. Take Alfred or Tim with you if you are uncomfortable. When you are done we’ll see about the rest. Is the device or method very obvious?”
“Oh no. Just a couple of crystals on a staff and lots of paper. A spell will burn the data for that zone on paper which would need to be scanned and reassembled like a jigsaw on computer.”
“Then I suggest you get very good walking shoes and buy a bicycle.”
With the strong backing of Bruce Wayne the city began issuing bonds to finance a new asylum on East Hinkley Island. The island itself was bought out by Bruce Wayne who in turn swapped it with the City for The Narrows and the lands containing Arkham. Bruce Wayne met with the other property owners to discuss plans to revitalize Trigate Island once Arkham was shut down. When the other owners scoffed such plans Bruce offered to buy them out. And they accepted since all other attempts at revitalization failed badly.
And when the lawyers and accountants came to him for signatures, for the Eos Trust Bruce had set up Lucius knew he had to act. Why was Bruce moving small chunks of real estate holdings into a trust for Hermione Granger? Why was all the Arkham holdings in that same trust? Why was he swapping cash and other assets for Wayne Real Estate holdings all over the city, small plots and assets all across Gotham? Why was he buying more through holding companies fronting for the trust? When Lucius plotted the real estate assets of the Eos Trust they were scattered all over the city.
Bruce had become very close to Hermione Granger. She had moved into one of the VIP suites of Wayne Towers. She spent many weekends and evenings at Wayne Manor or in town accompanied by Tim Drake or Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred was often seen picking her up during the week and driving her out of the city. Lucius knew Alfred Pennyworth was very protective of his former charge and would never tolerate anyone who would hurt him. Then why was he not stopping this? Bruce was draining a great deal of his personal liquid holdings to set up a trust for a near stranger. Was she blackmailing him?
“Mia is not blackmailing me Lucius. She has not used hypnosis or drugs to control me.” Lucius blinked. Bruce smirked. “I could read it on your face. She’s working on a very special project for me. The Eos Trust is a big part of it but you don’t have to worry; she cannot sell or use the assets as collateral. She only has paper ownership. I will keep control as the trustee as long as she lives. If I die before her then Dick or Tim will take control of the Eos Trust.”
Lucius frowned. “I don’t see how a trust holding real estate assets can be related to a special project.” He confessed.
Bruce nodded slightly. “I wouldn’t have thought so myself until I talked to Mia.” Then he smiled. “But if it works it will change Gotham forever. Completely.”
“Are you sure she isn’t using some mind control on you?”
Bruce laughed. “No mind control. Nothing but her findings.” He smirked. “If we pull this off they will have to build a separate wing and archive at the library and museum for us.” He chuckled. “For the saviours of Gotham City.”
“How can buying land in such a random fashion help change Gotham? Shouldn’t you finance education and social programs and take-back-the-night initiatives?”
Bruce became sober. “I’ve been doing that all these years Lucius and it hasn’t made much of a dent. Mia has shown me a different way. I have to take this chance.”
“Can’t you tell me about it?”
“Once we’re done you’ll be the first to know all the details.” Bruce promised.
Lucius grumbled but conceded. There wasn’t much he could do at this point. Everything was perfectly legal and Hermione Granger could not run off with the assets. He wondered if he had made a mistake taking her on as his personal Research Associate.
“You didn’t make a mistake introducing her to me Lucius. In fact you might have just saved us all.” Bruce smiled faintly. “Give me a year. I’ll tell you everything by this date next year. Besides you know Alfred will not let me do anything too stupid.”
Lucius sighed. “All right Bruce. I’ll give you a year. And I expect to hear a very good story over a very good meal.”
Bruce chuckled. “You will Lucius, you will.”
Hermione squeaked and spun around. She glared at Batman who was standing just inside the balcony doors of the Wayne Towers VIP suite she was using. How had he…?
“Your wards are based on intent. I have no intention of harming you.”
Hermione glanced at her kitchen table covered with piles of neatly marked paper. The wall closest was covered with an oversized laminated map of Gotham marked with overhead pens in different colours; blue, green, red, brown, black.
Batman could see the pattern. She had already mapped a great deal of Old Gotham. Most of it was red with a narrow strip of brown shaped like an inverted V with the point near the core of Old Gotham. There were a few black asterisks around the vertex point and near the brown dots. Most of the ‘safer’ parts of Gotham were covered in blue or green markings though he could see narrow strips of red/brown curving through Downtown and two other lines cutting through Midtown and West Harrow. There were large patches with no markings, mainly in the industrial zones and rougher areas.
She noticed he was studying the map intently. “I’ve mapped most of Old Gotham. I did it while doing my usual circuits. Red indicates a dense flow, brown is very dense, black is almost physical. It is actually warping reality. I haven’t even gone close to Arkham or the docks. One node is in Crime Alley, and I believe the other is close to Arkham, the third one should be close to the southern end but I don’t have a good excuse to be in that area.”
Batman nodded. “Do you get air sick?”
Hermione blinked. “Not that I know of.”
He turned to the balcony and made a gesture. Two others entered the living space. Robin and Batgirl. Robin looked more friendly with a smile bouncing lightly on his toes. Batgirl was sulking, her arms folded across her chest.
“I don’t see why I have to be here.” She grumbled.
Batman visibly hardened. “You don’t have to be. Help her suit up. Robin will take her out while you do regular patrols.”
Hermione felt sorry for the other woman but she had brought it on herself. She looked at Batman.
“Batgirl will show you how to suit up. I’ve prepared a dark outfit with no markings to help you blend in and not be identified. It is lightly armoured in case you and Robin run into any trouble.”
Hermione nodded and led Batgirl who was carrying a matte black metal briefcase to the second bedroom she preferred.
Batgirl smirked. “Strip to your underwear and put this on.” She tossed a black stretchy bodysuit at Hermione.
Hermione did not react badly as the heroine had expected. The witch immediately understood why Batman had insisted the reluctant female member of his team join them. Once Hermione learned how to don the outfit herself she would not have to see or talk to the brat. Vaguely Hermione wondered why Batgirl had taken a dislike to her but she did not let it get under her skin. It had been a long time since Hermione cared for another’s opinion of her.
Batman frowned. “You aren’t wearing the cowl.”
She glared at him. “It is hot and sweaty and there isn’t enough room for my hair. It is too long to be worn like Batgirl and I’m not going to cut it. This is an acceptable substitute. It hides all traces of my identity and it cannot be removed.”
Batman glanced at Robin who stepped forward and tried to do just that and failed.
The material shifted as her lips curved into a smile. “It is based on the same principles as my veils. Only I or those who I add to the rune matrix as acceptable can remove it. It is spelled to be nearly indestructible and has a minor cushioning charm in case I intercept a blow or fall on my face.” Seeing their curious expressions she explained. “The easiest way to avoid damage is to drop and roll.” She touched her nose. “In the past I’ve dropped a little too fast to avoid incoming spells and blows.” She tilted her head to one side. “But don’t worry; I have no plans on playing hero. If anything goes wrong I’ll stay out of the way and hide.”
Batman glanced at Batgirl who spoke in grudging tones. “She figured out how to don the armour pretty quickly. She only needed some help to figure out the tricks to securing it without any assistance. The hood and mask were things she already had in an overnight back filled with energy bars and dark clothes; tights, jeans, sweaters, turtlenecks.”
Hermione shrugged. “Escape kit. It has some money, gift cards, disposable pre-paid cell phones, and travelling documents under other names.”
“Do you still feel you need it?” Batman asked casually.
Hermione thought hard. “Not really. But it is a hard habit to break.”
Batman nodded. “It is a good habit. Just follow Robin’s lead. He will be using the glider tonight. If she has a bad reaction to flying use the cycle.” He directed to Robin who nodded his understanding.
“Sure thing Batman.”
Batman had not been pleased to hear what she had done but she did not flinch under his scowl, glower, and looming stance.
Hazel brown met cobalt blue without flinching or recoil.
“I was not in any danger. I was more than fifty feet away lying on top of the unloaded shipping containers.”
“And what if someone spotted you from above? From a crane?” Batman wanted to know.
She shrugged slightly and then vanished from sight without a sound or flicker.
Robin jumped when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Batman and Batgirl whirled and stared at Hermione Granger who was standing just behind Robin. How had she…?
“It is called Apparition. A mages version of teleportation. Usually there is a distinctive pop caused by the displaced air but with practice and skill it can be soundless.”
Batman frowned. “Can you do this anywhere?”
“Only to places I’ve been to. And there is a distance limitation. I can Apparate all over Gotham and to the mainland but the farthest I can go in one jump is from Gotham to New York and it will exhaust me.” She confessed.
“Can all mages do this?”
“Only those with power and skill. To Apparate when you are tired is risky; there is a chance you leave part of yourself behind. It is called splinching and it can only be treated at a magical hospital. There is also a chance Apparation can be traced and tracked. For that reason I’ve tried to avoid Apparating except when I feel there is no other option.”
“Can you take others with you?” Robin wanted to know.
“Yes. But it has the same risks as Apparating when tired.”
Batman considered the information. “Avoid Apparating.”
Hermione snorted softly. “This is the third time I’ve done it in Gotham. The first was to avoid certain Italian businessmen; the second was to check if I could reach the mainland safely.”
“Italian businessmen?”
“Vitero Maroni. I believe his mother Angela is an untrained mage. He is as well.”
Batman’s mouth turned down. “He has been manoeuvring into the high ground. Gordon has not been able to pin anything solid on him.”
“I believe his experience has focused his magic into honing his sixth sense such that he can instinctively plot and plan a course of least resistance. If you want to catch him you cannot Plan. Some of the best Aurors, enclave policemen, are like that. Their danger senses and pattern recognition abilities are much higher than their colleagues.”
Batman added the bit of data to his mental database. “Did you complete the mapping?”
Her chin lifted as she glared down her not visible nose. “Of course!”
“Good. Robin will pick you up tomorrow night. Be ready by eleven fifteen.”
Her fingers moved absently as she picked up her overhead markers and began plotting the newest data she had just finished compiling. There were four other more detailed maps surrounding the large one of Gotham. One was a neighbourhood map centered around a school with a detailed floor plan of said school. Two others were industrial maps detailing warehouses, shipping docks, piers, and railway lines. The fourth was Trigate Island centered around Arkham Asylum.
“Are you done?” A familiar gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts.
Hermione did not jump. She had become used to him slipping into her home and sneaking up on her.
“As much as I can without going into Arkham itself. And I am Not going in there when it is still in use.” She turned and glared at him.
“Understandable. Do you have the location of the other nodes?”
“Yes. There are four in total.” She tapped the points where the brown strips of dots crossed each other. “Arkham. Crime Alley. Port Adams. Tricorner Yards. I’ve pinpointed the nodes for all but Arkham to within three meters on the more detailed maps. The brown dots indicate where the energy flows, the leylines. It is quite rare to see three lines entangled in such a small space. Usually one would be subsumed by the others. Nodes usually form in ones or pairs. Four nodes is quite rare.”
Her finger traced the brown dots moving in an arch from the northern mainland, through Old Gotham, curving around the eastern edges, through Port Adams then turning west to pass through Tricorner Yards. Then up the second line from Tricorner Yards, through Arkham and curving to cut through Old Gotham. The last line was a straight diagonal cutting from Port Adams, across Midtown and through Arkham.
“Have you mapped Bludhaven?”
Hermione snorted softly. “Of course.” She pulled another larger scale map showing the Bludhaven-Gotham corridor. She picked a pencil to trace the leylines on it. The line cutting through Arkham and Port Adams curved out at sea to come back and to cut through Langley Point and Caernaervon Section. The line through Old Gotham, Arkham, and Tricorner Yards went straight through Avalon Hills and the Central Business District before cutting through the other line at Caernaervon.
“Batgirl was nice enough to give me a lift by boat and plane. She introduced me to Nightwing in Bludhaven. He was dismissive of my leyline theory but he could not disagree with my statement that Caernaervon is one of the worst districts in Bludhaven. The node there is potent but it is feeding off the resonance effect of so many nodes in Gotham. Once the nodes are purified here things should start getting better there.”
Batman studied the map. “Do you want me to ask Wayne to start buying land in Bludhaven?”
“No. Nightwing isn’t welcoming or a believer. We’ll just be stepping on his toes. If he changes his mind I won’t mind purifying that node as well but I’d prefer if you speak to Bruce Wayne about buying land outside Gotham.” She shuddered. “I’ve seen the balance sheet and cash flow statements for the Eos Trust.”
Batman was faintly amused. “Do you have a timeline for the Gotham nodes?”
Hermione studied the map. “Arkham will have to be the last. After they have finished moving to the new facility. All four nodes will need to be purified within three moon cycles of each other.”
Batman considered the information. “We can start in two months. Arkham is supposed to be shut down in four months. Do you know where you want to start?”
Hermione did not have to think. “Crime Alley. The old abandoned high school. The effects should be immediately noticeable since the two lines cut through all the islands.”
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Almost. I’m waiting for Bruce to locate suitable gemstones to be focus points. I’ve already destroyed three diamonds testing them.”
Batman winced inwardly. He remembered seeing that with his own eyes. Hermione had set up a low-level version of the purification ritual on Wayne Manor grounds. One of the leylines passed through the grounds and under the building itself. The diamonds had fractured and fallen apart at the natural flaws from the stress of containing the resonating power generated by the ritual. Seeing it happen in just two minutes he knew it would be nearly impossible to find suitable natural stones that could handle at least twenty times the input for more than ten minutes.
Batman had despaired until he struck upon a different avenue. If he couldn’t buy the stones he would have them made. Bruce Wayne travelled to Metropolis, where Batman contacted Superman and asked the Kryptonian to create suitable diamonds from several tons of high quality coal. Superman had been confused by the request but had been willing to help because he knew Batman would not make such a request lightly. They would be ready for a test run in one week. Batman hoped they would be more suitable than the other stones he had bought. He was beginning to understand why nodes were almost never purified once they became tainted. Finding perfect focus stones in nature was nearly impossible.
“Don’t worry about finding suitable focus stones.” He spoke gruffly. “Just be ready to move. Do you have any particular preference for a particular date?”
“A full moon.”
Batman made a mental note of the information. “Take a break and relax. You can’t do much until the stones are procured.” And you will not get your hands on them for at least a month. You have been working too hard and Alfred is getting very annoyed with me for not trying to slow you down.
Hermione nodded absently and began rolling her stiff shoulders and tense neck muscles. She froze when she felt the strong hands encased in rubber and Kevlar gloves work on the hard knots.
“You are too tense.” His voice was low and disapproving. His hands pushed her towards a breakfast bar stool and manoeuvred her to sit down while he worked on her neck.
“I always am near the end of a project. After putting so much energy and time into it I cannot relax it is handed in and done without any disastrous interruptions.” She confessed.
“Have you considered going to a masseuse?”
“All the time. But I’m afraid I can’t.” She leaned forward and rested her cheek on the smooth slick surface of the breakfast island she was using as an office table.
“And why not?”
“If I feel too much pleasure I’ll lose control.” She admitted. His hands stilled for a fractional second before resuming his motions.
“What would happen?”
“Anything.”
“What has happened in the past?”
“My hair got a static charge that escaped and fried whatever and whoever was close by. I’ve changed water into alcohol and caused plants to bloom out of season. Everything I touched became scented with cinnamon and cloves.”
Batman lifted his gloved hand to his face and sniffed discreetly. A faint smile curved his lips. “You are doing it now.”
“What?!?” She sat up straight.
“Your skin. It smells of cinnamon and clove oils.”
Hermione lifted her hand to her own nose and confirmed his statement. She groaned softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any control over that.”
“Has it always happened or is it something new?”
“It became more common after I was Bound. My magic began finding new ways to escape. After the spirits showed me how to channel I knew it was not safe to stay in Britain so I applied for a transfer to America.”
Batman considered the information. “Try to relax. Take a few weeks off and spend some of it outside Gotham.”
She twisted on the bar stool and considered the order. “I could go to Florida. Simon Elk Hart is one of the instructors at Miskotek Academy and he asked if I could prepare a two part lecture for his more advanced classes. And they do have a very extensive collection on the theory of rune and pictoglyph spell crafting.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “No. Time off means time off. Not new projects.”
Hazel eyes narrowed and the narrow chin with its shallow dimple lifted in defiant challenge.
Batman back-pedalled mentally and tried a different argument. “You need to relax and recharge. You are going to be executing four very intense and draining rituals without any back-up. You have to be at your peak.”
Her shoulders sagged. “You are right.” She rubbed her chin. “What do you suggest?”
“Talk to Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth.”
“Oh yes. It is the fifth time Bruce has taken her out in the last two weeks.”
“Is he serious about her?!?” The owner sounded horrified.
“I don’t see how. I mean she is definitely a plain Jane, nothing extraordinary.”
“I heard she works for Wayne Enterprises.”
“I heard she is working on some special project for Bruce. She is so lucky! They get to spend so much time together!”
“And all of it on business?” The other was sceptical. “Bruce Wayne is not the type to focus exclusively on business.”
The knowledgeable one became hesitant. “I don’t know. They’ve been working together for months and no one said anything.”
“And now he is taking her out on dinner dates and to galas. That doesn’t quite sound like a purely business relationship.” A sigh full of envy. “That dress she is wearing… It looks like an original from Milan. Definitely not something off a department store rack.”
“But she’s so Ordinary! Why is he with her?”
“That’s what I want to know. Is it something serious or is he just being nice?”
“Do you think Selina knows?”
“Don’t know. She hasn’t been in Gotham for Months!”
“Well she isn’t with exclusively with Bruce. He is free to date whoever he wants.”
“But why does he have to pick a British nobody who looks like a librarian!?!”
Her date chuckled softly and squeezed her hand.
“Don’t let them get to you.” He spoke softly.
She glanced up through dark lashes. “Don’t be silly. I’ve heard worse from other inbred idiots.” She shuddered. “This reminds me of Fourth Year.”
“What happened?”
“There was an inter-school contest for the older students; a three-part challenge with each school being represented by their best student, their Champion. The one from Eastern Europe was a very popular sports star; he had male and female fans. Everyone wanted to go with him to the Yule Dance. He asked me because I wasn’t a rabid fangirl. I was rather angry because the boy who I wanted to go with didn’t bother asking me until the very end as a last resort. I wanted to make him regret it.” She chuckled ruefully. “I went all out getting dressed. I modified a dress Mummy sent me because the usual formal gowns sold in enclaves were rather old fashioned. I used two bottles of Sleek-Eezey to control my hair, it was a lot worse when I was younger.” She touched the coronet of braids wrapped around her head. When we entered the Great Hall everyone was shocked; someone as popular and wealthy as Victor Krum asked me out before I cleaned up and that I looked so good when I tried.” She chuckled ruefully.
Bruce looked down at her profile before placing a finger under her chin to reposition her face at varying angles.
“I don’t see why not. You have very good bones. You will remain attractive even when you are much older. Krum must have been quite mature to have seen that potential in you. Besides, anyone can look attractive with some effort. But you have a confidence, a self-assuredness that comes from deep within. You won’t cling or demand reassurance because you have a good sense of your own self-worth. By that same token you won’t have a great deal of patience for high-maintenance friends.”
Hermione blinked, completely taken aback by the sharp perceptive words coming from someone who she had quite written off as a bit dense. Her eyes narrowed.
“How much are you hiding Bruce?”
“Quite a bit.” He freely admitted. “Aren’t you?”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest then she shut it. She was hiding. Bruce was wealthy, attractive, and chased after. He probably cultivated that denseness as a self-defence mechanism. Trust begat trust and honesty begat honesty. Bruce Wayne already had too much power over her. She liked him and she had shared a lot of her history with him, but did she trust him with her feelings?
“Yes.” She admitted softly.
He smiled gently. “Don’t worry. It’s human to hide parts of yourself.”
Hermione sighed. “I want to hide all of myself. I never had much patience for socializing when I was younger and now you are dragging me to all these parties!”
“It is something different from your usual activities.” Bruce spoke firmly. “If I take you to galleries and museums you’ll start making project and reading lists. At a party the only thing you’ll have to worry about is not insulting other guests.” He smirked. “Besides, I did offer to take you to Hawaii. You were the one who didn’t want to leave Gotham.”
Then he felt her stiffen. Reflexively his eyes scanned the area around him. He didn’t see any obvious or subtle threat.
“What is it?” His voice dropped into lower ranges.
She shivered and rubbed her bare upper arms. “There is someone here. Someone… Someone with Power.” She looked up at him with dark frightened eyes. “He or she knows I am here. That I am a Bound witch.”
“Bruce.” A cool familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
The billionaires dark blue eyes focused on the dark eyes belonging to a man with white streaked red hair dressed in a tuxedo. Jason Blood.
“Blood, I’m not sure if you’ve ever met Hermione Granger. Mia, this is Jason Blood, a business associate.” He spoke cordially. He had not seen the occult specialist since the last meeting as Batman. Unconsciously his arm wrapped around Hermione drawing her close. “Mia has been working on a few projects for me. She has a very good knack for thinking outside-the-box.” His eyes narrowed. “She is also a very good friend. Alfred and Tim are very fond of her.” Hurt her and you’ll have to face more than me.
Jason Blood inclined his head at the unspoken threat.
Hermione squashed the urge to run. She lifted her eyes and focused them on the other mans bow-tie. “Mr. Blood.” She turned to Bruce. “I’ll be with the Commissioner. Come and get me when you’re done.”
She wriggled out of Bruce’s embrace and walked over to the buffet table where Commissioner Jim Gordon stood talking with a few City bureaucrats.
The occultist glared at the retreating woman who had made Etrigan sing and laugh in glee. He wanted to chase her down and end the threat his intellect screamed she was. His logical side made him follow Bruce away from the party goers.
“Do you know What she is?” He hissed once they were in a service corridor hidden behind heavy velvet curtains
His old friend stared at him with cold hard eyes. “I know exactly what she is. Do you?”
“She’s a Necroscope! A killer just waiting to get loose!”
“She’s a human being! A woman punished for something that is Not her Fault!” Bruce pushed back.
Blood was taken aback. “Do you know what every awakened Necroscope has done for the last two thousand years?”
“Every Necroscope in Europe!” Bruce countered harshly. “Every Necroscope in that bigoted prejudiced continent that still believes they live in the time of Colonies where only Europe and its imperial powers can ever be right.”
Blood blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Have you ever tried to find out how Other cultures regard Necroscopes?” Blood frowned. “Why don’t you do some research and find out for yourself. In fact I can give you a name: William Hawk Eye. Ask him what the Native Americans mages and shamans think of Necroscopes.”
Blood shook his head slightly. “I don’t know what scheme she’s spinning—”
“That’s correct Blood. You don’t, so don’t bother trying to change my mind.”
Jason frowned. “I don’t understand why you are so protective of her.”
“She’s a woman who is doing the best she can after some very hard knocks.” Cobalt blue eyes were like chips of steely ice. “Hard knocks given by prejudiced fear-driven bigots who do not see the individual, only the label. She has lived in Gotham for a few years and has proven to be honest, sane and very capable. I truly believe she is the key to the salvation of this city.”
Blood frowned. “I heard rumours about your revitalization projects. You’ve been buying a lot of land, especially in Old Gotham.” Dark eyes narrowed. “In fact it was on your push that a new Asylum is being built to replace Arkham when it closes. What are you playing at Bruce?”
Bruce smirked. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see for yourself Jason.”
A few minutes later they were joined by more social-conscious society matrons who sat on various NGO and volunteer boards. Unlike when Bruce introduced them, this Hermione Granger was articulate and confident. Within a few minutes of introductions being made she launched into an involved conversation with Stella Vandermeer whose unofficial job was chairing and fund raising for various NGOs.
He watched with troubled eyes as other civic minds joined the group for a lively discussion. All throughout Hermione Granger patiently but firmly involved Bruce in the conversation, not allowing him to escape and join the other more business or pleasure oriented circles.
When Batman had warned him off Hermione Granger Jason had made it a point to investigate her and what he had not found was troubling. There was absolutely no evidence of insanity or murders committed. His PI had not been able to account for every single minute but in recent months she had spent a great deal of time in Wayne Manor, with Alfred Bruce and Tim. There was no way she could have hidden evidence of her crimes from all three.
Was he wrong? Had they All been wrong for centuries? Were there really others ways which would keep a Necroscope sane and stable? Did he kill Andrew for no truly valid reason? If he had only looked harder, doubted conventional wisdom and the scholar Everyone, could he have saved his friend?
Bruce had given him a name. William Hawk Eye. Jason needed to speak to him before reaching any other premature conclusions.
Jim Gordon did not jump. He turned and looked into the shadows.
“I thought you might want to know. There’s been a drop in criminal activity in Old Gotham. At first I thought it was a new gang-lord taking control but nothing to support that theory. There are fewer cases of domestic violence and runaways, not just the ones being called in but fewer cases in the shelters and group homes. We actually had a few call-ins that where the perp came in peacefully.”
Batman shifted slightly. “I’ve noticed it myself. Do you have a probable cause?”
Gordon frowned. “I’m not sure. Nothing has really changed but for some reason it doesn’t feel as oppressive to go on patrol there. Some of the officers spotted some interesting art work and gardens but didn’t make any official reports because the City would send maintenance crews to take them down. There is one recurring theme in most of the local gossip according to Cynthia Watkins who runs the local Social Services office. The Veiled Lady who dresses like a widow in dark blue or black and wears a hat with a veil that hides her identity. Some call her an angel with the healing touch. Others say she’s more dangerous than you though no one has fingered her for any particular crime; other than beating up local gang members.”
Batman considered the information. “Have any of your people seen her?”
Gordon shook his head. “No. She’s like a ghost.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Have you seen her?”
“I have.”
“Well? What does she look like?”
“The description you have; dark clothes and a veil. The residents respect and trust her.”
The police officer warred with the private citizen. “Is she a threat?”
Batman shook his head. “Actually she might be the best thing that happened to this city.”
“Even more than you?” Gordon was sceptical.
Batman was silent for a while before he answered. “I attack the symptoms and effects of the problem. She’s going after the root and cause of the problem. Her solutions are more likely to be lasting ones. You’ve seen the changes yourself.”
A tiny kernel of hope bloomed. Batman would not lie about something like this. If he believed was it possible, could it be…? Was there a chance to bring real lasting positive change in Gotham?
“Do you know her? Could you arrange a meeting?”
He ignored the first question. “I doubt if she would be agreeable. Her approach is not… conventional. And she doesn’t trust the justice system and government.”
Gordon decided he did not want to know. As long as it worked he did not care to know the particulars of just how she did it. “If she needs any help I’m available.”
“I will let her know but I doubt she will ever take you up on it.”
Gordon sighed. “Do you think she could work her magic in Downtown?”
To his surprise Batman smirked. “Just keep an eye on the statistics and reports Commissioner. I think you will be pleasantly surprised in the coming months.”
“Do you need any help?”
Hermione stopped and looked a bit torn before she came to a decision. “I need the ritual circles to be marked out in chalk around this point.” She gestured to a X she had just marked after consulting the GPS unit. “Diameters of one, three, and five meters. Please make the division markings on the two inner circles before using salt to create a one-inch thick outer ring. I’ll need to make the other markings myself.”
Batman nodded and took the compass, laser-sighting device and chalk to begin marking the first circle and its four divisions occasionally checking with the sketch loaded on his hand held data-pad. When he began working on the second circle Hermione outlined the circle and suspended square he had just marked using a special potion she brewed with her blood and herbs as ink, and a brush she made with her own hair as bristles. Then she moved to mark the circle and suspended pentagon he had finished marking. While he emptied several boxes of sea salt to complete the protective enclosing outer ring she worked on adding the necessary details and glyphs to the two inner circles. It was twenty minutes before she was done and satisfied.
“Could you pass the stones?”
Batman opened a matte black case lined with black foam and several shallow notches holding gemstones and crystals of varying hues. One by one he passed large fist-sized chunks of priceless clear diamonds to Hermione who placed them very carefully on the hand glazed pottery plates at the vertices of the pentagon. Then he passed over tangerine sized chunks of green, blue, red, and yellow coloured diamonds.
Hermione moved to stand within the square she had marked. Then as she placed them at the points of the square she chanted softly.
“Spring Maid, blow Air for the North, Grant me animation and life, communication and intellect, Grant me the knowledge to blow away this taint below.” The blue diamond set on the Northern Quadrant and it began to glow silver from within. A gust of wind swirled around her tossing her hair into disarray.
“Summer Lord, burn Fire for the East, Grant me the energy and the passion, the will to sacrifice and purify, Grant me the drive to burn away this taint below.” The red diamond set on the Eastern Quadrant and it began to glow orange from within. Fire burst into life around her palms before dying away.
“Mother Fall, pour Water for the West, Grant me the intuition and wisdom, the feelings and emotions, Grant me the empathy to wash away this taint below.” The green diamond set on the Western Quadrant and it began to glow teal-peacock from within. Water condensed out of the air and swirled around her feet before seeping through the cracks in the foundation.
“Father Winter, raise Earth for the South, Grant me strength and stability, logic and business sense, Grant me the certainty to separate this taint below.” The yellow diamond set on the Western Quadrant and it began to glow gold from within. The ground trembled slightly below her feet though the present cracks did not expand nor did anything else shift out of place.
Faint tendrils of energy rose from each coloured stone and rose to a point above her head where it merged and became a swirling mass of silver and gold energy. Then it separated into five strands that darted out and anchored in the clear diamonds on the second ring.
Batman watched as the coloured stones continued to pulse and produce streams of coloured light that merged and morphed to silver/gold. Hermione stood underneath the rainbow of lights and colours, her face tilted up her palms held face up. After fifteen minutes the pulsing slowed and faded. The ribbons fell apart into motes of light that vanished. Then the last of the energy resonating within the crystalline structures began to fade and die out.
He did not move. She had been very explicit in her instructions to Not step over the salt circle until she said it was safe. Then her eyes opened, there was a deep gold glow tinting her irises before they began to fade and leave her with her natural hazel eyes.
She did not speak. She appeared to be distracted and distant.
“Is it safe?”
She blinked. “Oh. Oh yes.”
She knelt and began picking up the gemstones.
“You never told me where you got these gems.” She murmured. “The diamonds are so large and clear and flawless… They make a very potent set of ritual stones. I do not believe any of the old pureblood families have anything like them. If they did there are so many old rituals…” She made a sound of denied longing and shook her head. “No. It would be safer if they are cut into smaller stones once we are done.”
Batman studied her intently. “We can decide what should be done with the stones later. For now we need to clean up and leave.”
He kicked the salt circle breaking it. Then he staggered. The power, the euphoric intoxication, the joy… “My God.” He whispered.
She smiled, a tiny curve of her lips, and held out hands filled with priceless gems to him.
Batman didn’t know what got into him but he stepped forward, grabbed her hands and hauled her close for a very intense embrace. She squeaked when her face was squashed into his armoured chest but she did not fight to get free, instead she wrapped her own arms around his waist under his cape. He felt one hand stroking his back soothingly.
“I know.” Her voice was slightly muffled. “It feels so different, doesn’t it? So clean and untainted. So pure. So much potential. So much…”
He shifted so she was pressed against one side, one arm across her shoulders keeping her close to him. “I never realized… Was this what it was like before?”
“I think so. I read Robert Wayne’s journals. The way he described it. The feeling of potential, of hope and possibilities. I think it is this feeling that drew people to Gotham.”
Then he remembered something else. “How are you feeling? Are you feeling drained or dizzy? Do you need anything to eat?”
She laughed. “No I’m fine. I feel a little tired but nothing painful.” She glanced around. “We need to clean up.”
They picked up the stones and packed them away in the case. Then Hermione watched as Batman carefully poured a fire accelerant around and over the chalked and painted ritual circles. He ordered her to get out of the building before he set the charges and followed her. Once outside he gave instructions to his younger partners.
“Once we are clear get to a safe distance and set off the charges. The fire should not escape the building but if it does call the fire station.” He smirked. “Even if it does bring down the building it won’t be too much of a loss.”
He guided her to the Batmobile and helped her in. She was already dozing off before she even secured the buckles so he leaned over and secured the straps for her.
“You never told me where you got the gems.” She mumbled. “Bruce tried but the ones he found cracked after only two minutes.”
Batman smirked. “That’s my little secret.”
He ignited the engine and shifted into drive.
Well, I’ve only read part one so far — and so much has happened. The PoV of Jason Blood being the apogee of representing so called old world European magic versus the native residents, by at least ten or twenty thousand years, having a better idea of how nature magic meets people magic was super. I also liked how you touched on other DCU comics, movies and television stuff. I’m so happy that Hernione could contribute to her own solution after such pain angst and sorrow.
Wow! Just finished this first part and am LOVING it! Dashing off to part two!
FANTASTIC art work by the artist. Excellent story by Sarhea, as always.
To both of you, ARTIST and WRITER, my many thanks.
I just wish I have both your imagination…WOW.
This is really good, going to read the next chapter.
Oooooo! This is awesome.