Countdown (19 page)

“There’s enough magical energy in that case alone,” Zatanna said proudly, “to do pretty much anything you can imagine.”

Mary could believe it. She felt the talismans’ sorcerous potential calling out to her, even through the thick glass sheet. Just her proximity to such power gave her goose bumps. “It must be wonderful to have so much power at your command.” She bet Zee had never been chased through the streets by a pack of ignorant skinheads. “Just wonderful. . .”

“It’s also a big responsibility,” Zatanna insisted. Walking over to a sagging bookshelf, she gathered an armload of dusty tomes and dropped them onto a waiting desk. “Here, these should get you started.” She beckoned to Mary. “We’ll start with the basics, then work our way up to more challenging material.”

Mary hesitated, unable to tear herself away from the case of mystically charged trinkets and tchotchkes. It was hard to get enthused about poring through piles of moldy old books when all these delectable toys were right at her fingertips, just waiting to be played with. It was a crime to let them just sit there, gathering dust. “Can’t we test-drive some of these?”

“In time,” Zatanna promised. “But only after you’ve mastered the fundamentals.” She blew a layer of dust off a slender volume. “Handing you such talismans now would be like giving a loaded gun to a child.”

Child?
The magician’s patronizing tone pushed all the wrong buttons. “I am not a child!” Mary snarled. Her temper combusted. How dare Zatanna treat her like some inexperienced kid? Had she forgotten who exactly had saved all those people on the
Lemarisl
“If you think these stupid books are so great,
you
read them!”

Lightning leapt from her fingertips, zapping the stacked volumes, which abruptly took fiight. Flapping their covers noisily, the airborne books swarmed Zatanna like pigeons descending on bread crumbs. She anxiously batted them away with her hands.

"Skoob pots ginylf! ”

The disenchanted tomes rained down onto the floor, but Mary had already found something better to do. Her fist smashed through the glass protecting Zatanna’s trophies. Blue flames flashed momentarily as her innate magical strength overcame whatever protective wards Zatanna had placed over the display case. Her eager fingers closed around a particularly tempting prize: a crystal-studded At-lantean scepter that positively reeked of magic.

“Ooooh
..Mary gasped as an ecstatic rush of energy thrilled her senses. Her skin tingled all over. Her hairs stood up on end. “No wonder you wanted to keep this for yourself.” Unable to contain the wand’s intense preternatural force, she started throwing off sparks of raw magical energy. Phantom winds whipped her hair into a frenzy. “So much power...”

“Mary, no!” Zatanna shouted in alarm. “You can’t cut loose like that in here. It’s like tossing a match into a tin-derbox!”

A stray spark animated the suit of armor, which started clanking across the floor. The mounted dragon’s head roared and breathed fire, the bright orange flames singeing the spines of the nearest books.

The power of the scepter, joined to Mary’s own gods-given might, intoxicated her. She raised the wand high above her head, glorying in the rapturous sensation. “I came to you for help, Zatanna,” she accused the other woman. “I thought you were on my side. Why would you keep these things from me?”

She’s jealous of you,
an inner voice answered her.
Jealous of what you cart become!

Of course.
That was the only explanation that made sense.

“That’s enough!” Zatanna said crossly. She held out her hand.
“Retpecs emoc ot em! ”

An unseen force snatched the wand from Mary’s hand. “Hey!” she protested as the precious talisman, and all its irresistible magic, returned to Zatanna. Mary felt as though she had been dashed with a bucket of cold water.
Talk about a buzzkill!

She glared furiously at Zatanna. Lightning flashed in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

But Zatanna didn’t seem to care what Mary thought. “You know,” she said, a severe expression on her face, “I ^thought that you might be some sort of sorcerous savant, b'ut it turns out you’re just a brat.” She brandished the glowing scepter. “And you’re about to get spanked!”

You wish,
Mary thought spitefully. She lusted for the power she had just known. An insatiable hunger gnawed at her very core. She launched herself at Zatanna, determined to wrest the scepter from the other woman’s treacherous clutches. For all she knew, Zee had stolen the wand from the wizard in the first place. “You give that back! It belongs to me now!”

“Cigam reirrab tcetorp em!”

When she had to, Zatanna could talk faster than a New Yorker on a caffeine high. A hastily erected bubble of pale blue energy shielded her from Mary’s initial attack, but the enraged super heroine had only just begun to fight for what she considered rightfully hers. Her gloved fists pounded relentlessly against the infuriating force field. Magical shock waves knocked Zatanna to the floor inside her bubble. “Mary, stop!” she pleaded. “What’s come over you?”

Maybe I’ve finally caught on to the truth,
Mary thought venomously,
that you ’re no different from Billy or Madame Xanadu. You all want to keep me weak and helpless and docile.
Lightning flashed whenever her knuckles collided with Zatanna’s protective shields.
Well, to hell with that!

Her fists smashed into the floor as the bubble instantly blinked out of existence, taking Zatanna with it. For a moment, Mary thought that her opponent had retreated from the fight entirely, then she heard Zatanna reappear several feet behind her. The resourceful sorceress counterattacked by summoning a Middle Eastern-looking brass lamp from a bookshelf.

“Eineg eruces reh, tub od on mrcth!”

Like something out of the
Arabian Nights,
a djinn steamed out of the lamp. Swirling purple vapors materialized into a muscular figure with dark indigo skin, pointed ears, and scorching red eyes. His jet-black hair was pulled back in a topknot, and a black goatee added to his Me-phistophelian appearance, as did his arched black eyebrows. A golden hoop pierced his left ear, and gleaming copper wristbands girded his powerful arms. Tattooed arabesques covered his bare chest, which dissolved into smoke below the waist. He laughed heartily, relishing his freedom from the lamp.

Stealing tricks from Aladdin, are we?
Mary thought.
I’m not impressed.

The genie seized Mary from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. His tight embrace would have crushed any ordinary girl. He chuckled lecherously in her ear, his spicy breath smelling of sandalwood and cinnamon.

“Luferac!”
Zatanna reminded the djinn.
“T’nod truh reh! ”

Mary snickered at the other woman’s restraint. “Treating me with kid gloves? Big mistake, Zee.” She slammed the back of her head into the genie’s face. Cursing in ancient Arabic, he loosened his grip long enough for Mary to grab on to his wrists with both hands and yank them apart. Whirling around, she tore into the djinn without mercy. Mystic energy crackled around her as she ripped the genie into fragmented wisps of smoke; it felt like tearing apart a wad of flimsy cotton candy. The genie’s agonized scream echoed throughout the library. “I’m playing for keeps!”

“Ali!” Zatanna gasped. The empty lamp dropped onto the floor.

Mary turned on Zatanna. “You really had me fooled, Zee! I thought we were friends. Why even bring me here, huh? To steal the power Black Adam gave me?” Her voice rose in anger. “To put me into one of your trophy cases?”

She tackled Zatanna head-on, slamming Zee into the bookcase behind her. The sturdy shelves wobbled precariously, and an avalanche of weighty tomes crashed down on Zatanna, knocking her to the floor. Half-buried beneath her own library, the dazed magician struggled to climb out from beneath the disorderly heap of books. “Mary ... please,” she whispered groggily. “You have to stop this....”

“Don’t worry, Zee,” Mary answered. Her boots levitated above the carpet as she gazed down at the battered sorceress. “It’ll be over before you know it!” Then nothing would come between her and all the power Zatanna had selfishly hoarded away.
It’s all so obvious now,
Mary realized.
She never actually intended to teach me anything. She wanted to keep all this magic to herself.
Mary’s eyes literally glowed with malice.
She couldn’t stand that I was becoming more powerful than her....

Mary decided to give Zatanna a taste of what she envied. Tapping into her anger, she flung a magical thunderbolt at her so-called mentor. The jolt wouldn’t kill Zee, but it might make her wish that it had. In any event, she would be in no shape to stop Mary from sampling the rest of the library’s many occult treasures.

But, to Mary’s surprise, Zatanna wasn’t quite down for the count yet. Throwing up her hands to shield herself, she spat out a hasty incantation.

“Yram, kool ta eht rorrim!’’

As though possessed of a mind of its own, the gilt-framed

mirror dived to its mistress’s defense, sliding between Mary and her foe. The unleashed lightning bolt struck the silvered glass—and bounced back at Mary herself. Thunder boomed inside the trashed library as lightning crashed against the startled heroine, changing her back into ordinary Mary Batson!

Wha—?

The unexpected transformation disoriented Mary. Her murderous rage vanished with her powers. The impact of the reflected thunderbolt catapulted her backward toward the picture window.

Zatanna took immediate advantage of the situation.
“Swodniw nepo! ”

Glass panes swung open obediently, and Mary went hurtling through the cold air outside the mansion. Zatanna must have given the lightning a little extra
oomph,
since Mary ' went sailing over the spiked fence surrounding the estate, finally crashing to earth in the grassy clearing beyond. She hit the ground hard.

Groaning, she climbed to her feet. No longer invulnerable, she felt sore all over. Her plain old jacket and jeans failed to keep out the chill of the evening. Mary shook her head in confusion, trying to figure out just how things had gone so wrong so fast. She stared in dismay at her fists.
What was I doing?

Anxious to apologize, she ran up to the wrought iron gate of Shadowcrest. No surprise, it refused to open for her. “Zatanna, please!” she called out, hoping the other woman could hear her. “Let me explain!”

“Mary Batson.” To her surprise, the iron bars of the gate twisted themselves into a rough approximation of a mouth. A rusty voice issued from the gate. “For violation of basic etiquette and decorum, and for acting in a generally nasty, evil manner, you are hereby banished from Shadowcrest henceforth.” A heavy layer of fog billowed up from the ground, concealing the mansion entirely. “Do not bother to attempt to find this place, as it shall remain hidden from you forevermore.”

The spreading fog swallowed up the gates as well as Zatanna’s lavish estate, which vanished into the mists like Brigadoon. Mary ran forward into the clammy dampness of the fog. “Wait!” she cried out desperately. “1 didn’t know what I was doing. This power... it’s too much for me!” She reached out for the gate, but her groping fingers encountered nothing but empty mist, which quickly wafted away, taking Shadowcrest with it. Mary found herself alone in the shadowy woods, seemingly miles away from the nearest habitation. An owl hooted in the skeletal tree branches overheard.

“Please, Zatanna! I need your help! Just give me a second chance ... please!”

The owl hooted in response.

23 AND GODNTING.

METROPOLIS.

“Wait
a sec,” Holly protested. “I thought this was supposed to be some sort of self-esteem workshop.”

“Yes,” a dark-haired staff worker assured her as she fastened a polished bronze breastplate over Holly’s chest. A second attendant slid a steel bracelet onto the confused fugitive’s forearm. “We’re simply applying your ceremonial garb.”

Holly glanced down at herself. A skirt of studded leather straps hung below the molded bronze cuirass. Metal greaves protected her lower legs. Steel-toed leather boots encased her feet. “Seriously, you
do
know this is battle armor, right?”

“Nonsense,” the brunette said. She held out a bronze headpiece bearing the sculpted visage of a snarling panther. “Now, let’s get you into your Purification Helmet.” Holly eyed the feline totem molded upon the helmet. A nod to her short-lived stint as a substitute Catwoman, or just a coincidence? She was already uneasy about the fact that Harley Quinn knew all about Holly’s dubious past; heck, she had nearly fled the shelter after Harley had dropped that bombshell on her in the spa, but the Joker’s supposedly reformed former squeeze had insisted that Holly’s secret was safe among her Athenian “sisters.” Every woman at the shelter, Harley had argued, was running from something, but this place was all about second chances. In the end, Holly had decided to hang around a little longer, mostly because she had nowhere else to go.

Now she was starting to have second thoughts.
What sort of self-help exercise requires body armor?

The dressers clamped the heavy helmet over Holly’s head and checked the fastenings on her “ceremonial garb” one more time. They led her out of the private dressing room into a colonnaded hallway, where she found several similarly armored women gathered outside a pair of towering wooden doors. Judging from their body language and what Holly could see of their faces, the other women looked just as baffled as she was. Herded together, they looked like refugees from a
Xena
convention.

“What in the world ... ?”

Holly joined the other women. The metal armor jangled every time one of them moved. Holly recognized one of the armored girls as Tricia, another newcomer to the shelter. She gripped a nasty-looking forked weapon.

“Um,” Holly said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re holding a trident?”