Disclaimer: DC owns. I borrow. DC makes money. I don't.
Continuity: Somewhere between Killing Joke and Cataclysm
Thanks to Dana for the beta!
Below the Surface
She was sitting at the table with her father when his shadow swept into the room.
"Jim," he said softly. Then he nodded to her. "Barbara."
Barbara inclined her head in acknowledgement as Gordon started up from the table.
"What's happened?" he demanded. He seemed to recollect that they weren't alone. "Barbara, would you mind…"
"There's no time for that," Batman interrupted. "Thorne is making his move tonight. You'll need to get the word out to your people: avoid Burnley. Zatanna hasn't responded to my signal, so I'll have to enlist the Oracle's help in locating her.
He was the picture of calm, but the Gordons knew better. "You're calling in help?" Jim blurted. "You?"
Batman's answer was to the point. "If Rupert Thorne is stupid enough to try binding demons in order to solidify his position at the head of Gotham's underworld, I'm going to need bring in a magical expert to deal with the situation."
They nodded grimly. "I'll make some phone calls," Jim said.
"I'll leave you to it," Barbara replied. There was nothing about her demeanor that suggested that Batman had just given her an assignment, right under her father's nose. She wheeled over to the closet to retrieve her coat. Demons, she thought to herself with a shudder. As if Gotham didn't have enough to deal with already. No wonder Bruce is calling in Zee.
They were too much alike, the two of them. Heck, she might as well include her father and make it the three of them: logical, rational, practical—magic was like a wooden sabot flung into their well-oiled machine by some disgruntled French Luddite.
Small wonder Batman was unnerved. Not that he showed it, of course. He was an epitome of stoicism, controlled and collected. But he had come to her father's house to contact her instead of waiting the hour-and-a-half or so for her to return to the Clocktower. And he was asking her to bring in help—outside help. He was scared.
That pithy observation worried her more than the demons.