Flying was harder than Dick had expected it to be. There was a lot to think about when he didn't have the fulcrum point at the end of a jumpline limiting his options. As soon as he cleared the Reflecting Pool, he landed. That, at least, was easy, thanks to years of acrobatic training.
He'd had to ditch the trench coat Donna had bought for him on his run to the Wall, and now he could only hope no one had stolen it. If she never forgave him for drinking the ambrosia, it would be all he'd have left of her -- the coat, and memories of their time together.
And the powers. He'd known he'd receive speed and flight, the gifts of Hermes, from his conversation with Donna. The fight with Deathstroke had revealed he had additional strength, likely the gift of Poseidon. There was nothing more powerful than the sea. And the healing had to have come from Apollo, a god of medicine as well as art and sunlight. Which left the gifts of Hephaestus and Hecate yet to be discovered. He clung to the hope that he'd be able to share those discoveries with Donna. First, though, he had to get back to her.
He'd left the coat in the trees on the south side of West Potomac Park, just off Independence Avenue. If he'd had time, he would've concealed it better, but he'd barely had time to shuck it from his shoulders and toss it into the shadows of the trees. It would need a good cleaning, most likely, if it was still there.
It wasn't.
He'd counted trees instinctively as he ran, and now he counted backward, twice, until he found the one where he'd thrown the coat, and it was gone. Even his Romany heritage, which had never encouraged him to collect or become attached to many things, couldn't stop the grief welling within him.
"It's just a coat," he told himself, and knew he was lying. Donna might've gone out to buy it quickly, while he napped, but she'd picked one that was stylishly cut of soft leather and fit like it had been made for him. He'd miss that coat, and the consideration that had gone into her choice.
"I told you, put it back!"
The strident voice made him turn. While healing and flight and speed were among the gifts contained within the ambrosia, apparently enhanced senses weren't. He hadn't noticed the two boys some fifty yards away until one of them spoke.
"I found it, it's mine." That was a different voice, lower, and Nightwing only understood its words because he'd begun moving closer to the boys.
"No, it's not." The first boy sounded desperate. "It's his, he left it here, and you're not taking it. You can't steal from him!"
"What makes him so special?" The second boy sneered. Now that he was closer, Nightwing could see the resemblance between them. Brothers, he guessed, probably twelve and eight.
"He's a superhero," the younger one said, as though it should be obvious.
"How do you know he's the hero?" the older one asked. Nightwing had to admit it was a good question -- both he and Deathstroke wore armor and masks, after all.
"Because," the younger one's attitude suggested he thought his older brother was denser than lead, "the other guy was using swords and trying to kill people. Heroes don't kill people. Now put it back."
"Actually, I'll just take it myself, thanks." Nightwing hadn't meant to make the boys jump like that, but in his fight to keep his voice steady, he'd apparently gone too far toward making it Batman-gruff. Ah, well, he thought, better that than have a superhero sounding choked up. They were having an impact, however small, if an eight-year-old knew that heroes don't kill.
"See, I toldja he'd win and he'd want it back," the younger boy said.
"Why'd you throw it away?" the older asked.
"I didn't. I left it here because I didn't want it to get torn in the fight. And it would've, just like my armor did." Nightwing shifted his body to display the gash in his uniform where Slade's sword had gone through him.
"Wow." The older boy's eyes had gotten big as he stared at the ruined nomex and at the greave that was shattered beyond repair. Along, Nightwing thought ruefully, with his cell phone. He couldn't even call Donna to tell her he was all right.
"Give him his coat back, Billy," the younger boy urged.
Billy grudgingly held the coat out to Nightwing. "Which one are you? Batman?"
Nightwing grinned and took the coat. Thanks to the would-be thief, it wasn't as wet and muddy as he'd feared. "Not anymore. My name's Nightwing."
"I'm Kenny, and this is my brother Billy," the younger one said. "Can we have your autograph?"
"Do you have a pen and paper?" Nightwing asked. He'd never bothered carrying those in his utility belt, much less the greaves.
Kenny's face fell. "No."
Nightwing thought quickly, then dug into a compartment in his right greave, the one Slade hadn't destroyed, and pulled out a spare mask. "How about this?"
"Cool!" Kenny took the mask and held it up to his face. "Look at me! I'm Batman!"
"He's Nightwing, you doofus," Billy said.
Nightwing grinned, reached for another mask to give Billy. The kid might've tried to steal his coat, but kindness could work wonders. He frowned when he realized the compartment was empty.
"Looks like I only have the one spare," he told Billy. "Think you and your brother can share?"
"S'okay. I didn't want one of your stupid masks anyway." Billy turned and stalked away.
"You gonna sign the mask?" Kenny asked. "Please sign the mask."
"Sorry, Kenny. No pen, remember?"
"C'mon, Kenny," Billy shouted over his shoulder.
"I gotta go," Kenny said.
Nightwing nodded. "Thanks for taking care of my coat while I was busy."
Kenny grinned and ran to join his older brother, waving the spare mask as he went. Billy didn't even turn to look at it.
Nightwing watched the boys until they disappeared from sight, thinking that no good deed went unpunished. He'd made the younger brother happy, at the cost of pissing off the older one. He'd stopped Deathstroke, but had that come at the cost of losing Donna forever?
And now, it would be literally forever if he had lost her. He'd understood the risk even as he downed the ambrosia on his run toward the Vietnam Memorial, one of the most crowded spots in Washington. That's what he'd been thinking about at the time, the crowds of potential victims and the need to protect them. Now those people were safe, chattering about the excitement they'd witnessed, while he had to confront a very lonely eternity.
Nightwing pulled the coat on over his uniform. He had to tell Donna what he'd done, and soon. And then, he thought, he'd know whether he had forever to look forward to or to dread.
-X-
Archi's still had the best Thai food in this part of New York, Donna thought. Empty containers of ped sarm rod, pad thai, and pad ruam puk littered her coffee table. Unlike so many girls in her generation, Donna ate when she was worried, and the amount she'd polished off this afternoon said she was plenty worried. Beside her, Roy finished the last of the chicken satay and tossed the bamboo skewer onto his plate.
"Deathstroke, huh?" he said. "No wonder you're worried."
While they ate, Donna had filled him in on the events surrounding the arrow Dick now attempted to retrieve. She hadn't told him about the vial of ambrosia, though. That was too personal, too private. "I should be with him," Donna said. "But he told me to stay behind."
"Then it's right you did," Roy told her. "I don't always agree with him, but he knows how to plan a fight, and if he told you to stay behind, he had a good reason."
"That will be no consolation if he doesn't come back."
"He will."
Donna opened her mouth to remind Roy that Dick had gone to face Deathstroke, the Terminator, the man who'd taken all of the Titans down. A knock on her door cut off her words before she could speak them.
She dashed to the door. It was Dick. It had to be. He was safe and alive. She'd be able to put her arms around him again and tell him that she'd been an idiot for years. Friends? Why had she been so hung up on that silly word? She could be friends, and lovers, and forever with him, she knew that now. She yanked open the door, and barely managed to stop herself before throwing her arms around her sister, Diana.
"You don't look happy to see me."
"Of course I am," Donna protested, but it sounded hollow even to her ears.
Diana smiled gently. "But not as happy as you would be to see someone else."
"I'll take off." Roy came up behind Donna and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I don't need to stay for the explanation a second time. But, if you need me, call."
The interruption was just long enough for Donna to gather her tumbling thoughts. Diana being here did not mean Dick was hurt, or worse. One had nothing to do with the other. He'd still call her, or just show up. She took a steadying breath and hugged her sister with less enthusiasm than she'd have given Dick. "Come on in."
Diana stepped past her, into the apartment. Her expression, Donna noted, was one of grim curiosity. But when Diana spoke, her tone was carefully neutral. "You chose Roy?"
"Roy?" Donna stared at her sister, her doppelganger. What would make Diana think Roy was even on the list of candidates, much less that she'd chosen him? "Gods, no."
Diana would never express her relief aloud, Donna knew that, but she saw the emotion flick across her sister's face. "I wondered -- he said something about an explanation."
For the second time in as many hours, Donna ran through the events of the few days. She told Diana about the conversation with Oracle, the Arrow of Strife, and how Dick had gone to get it back from Deathstroke. She even mentioned trusting him with the vial and regretting not realizing how she felt about Dick until he was gone. "I'm an idiot, a complete idiot."
"Hm." Diana began gathering the remains of the meal Donna had shared with Roy. "I'm -- surprised."
"Why surprised?" Donna helped her sister carry the empty containers to her garbage bin.
"Just --" Diana paused, then said, bluntly -- "I can't imagine someone raised by Batman accepting the gods easily. It's too bad things didn't work with Kyle."
"I'm not in love with Kyle." It felt so easy to say now. "I'm in love with Dick."
Diana was right, though, Donna had to admit. Dick hadn't been on speaking terms with any deity as long as she'd known him. He believed in something, or she thought he did, but he didn't talk about it. What would the gods think of someone like that receiving their gift?
"Is he in love with you?" Diana's tone was careful, as if she were a surgeon trying to probe a nasty wound. "He isn't known for long term relationships, is he?"
"It doesn't matter," Donna said, even though pain lanced through her at the thought that he might not feel the way she did. "He's my best friend, Diana. I've known him half my life -- I am his longest relationship, even if it hasn't been romantic."
Diana looked skeptical, and Donna couldn't blame her. She pressed on, "He's a good man, Diana, all of Bruce's best traits and none of his worst. There's nobody I'd rather see as a super-powered immortal than Dick. He will be good for the world."
"That wasn't exactly the intent of the gods when they gave this gift," Diana said, but she seemed strangely pleased with the inconsistency. "Then again, they aren't in touch with the modern world and what it needs."
"And they gave the gift to me, to bestow as I chose," Donna reminded her quietly. "And I choose Dick."
"I hope you chose well," Diana said, "not least because the Arrow of Strife is far too dangerous to leave in Deathstroke's hands. It needs to be returned to Artemis."
"I know. I wish I'd figured it out earlier." Donna hugged herself. It was a poor substitute for Dick holding her. "If I had, I wouldn't be worrying about whether he'd get my message. I wouldn't be worrying about whether Deathstroke will kill him. I would've told him face to face that I love him." She wouldn't stop regretting that mistake until he was safely back. If he made it safely back.
She slammed that thought down, hard. Of course he'd make it back. He had to. Dick was the only one who'd escaped Deathstroke when he'd sent Terra to infiltrate the Titans and bring them down from within. Dick was the best tactician she'd ever known, and even Deathstroke respected him. Dick would come back. She hadn't lost her chance to share forever with him.
Diana took a step closer, as if to hug Donna, then seemed to think better of it. Donna squeezed her own torso tighter. She didn't really want any arms but Dick's. Maybe Diana could sense that because she looked away and said, "Do you know where he went to face Deathstroke? I could go there. I could help."
Donna couldn't help laughing. Even she heard the edge of hysteria in it. "Why do you think I'm not with him, Diana? He insisted on going alone. He even took Oracle's tracking unit out of his costume."
Diana's mouth formed an "oh" of surprise, then she scowled. "I have to find him, Donna. He's why I came here in the first place."
Diana had come to see Dick, not her?
"Sorry I kept you waiting, Diana."
At the sound of his voice Donna felt relief, like water, spill through her. She turned, saw him, and another wave of joy rushed over her. He was not only alive, but seemingly whole and uninjured. He still wore the leather coat she'd bought him over his Nightwing costume. His mask was still in place. She couldn't see his eyes, but she believed they were lit with joy at seeing her as well. Not caring that Diana was there, she flew to him and threw arms around his neck.
His arms enveloped her, and his mouth found hers, and in this moment, that was all she needed for happiness.
Of course it couldn't last.
Dick pulled away much sooner than she would've preferred, though he kept an arm around her when he looked at Diana. "You said you were looking for me?"
"And you appeared." Diana's smile was cautious, careful. "You came in through the balcony."
He had, Donna realized belatedly. Did that mean he'd gotten her message, that he understood how she felt? Had he flown to her apartment, or merely used his jumplines as he had for years? Those were all questions that would have to wait. Diana had already begun explaining her problem.
"So, Batman said you might be available to help investigate murders on Themyscira."
Donna cut her off. As stunning as news of murder at home was, something else was more important. "Dick -- what about the arrow?"
"I have it." He opened the coat enough to show her the case slung over his shoulder beneath it. Donna breathed a sigh of relief at the arrow's recovery, but his movement also showed a broad gash in his uniform and the cloth there was darkened with blood. She'd seen no sign of pain when he moved. But, he was good at hiding things.
Dick turned back to Diana before Donna could ask him about the fight. "Of course I'll help. Do you want to give me details en route?"
"That would be best," Diana said. "That arrow is dangerous and best given back to Artemis as quickly as possible. Our priestesses have rituals for such a return. And the sooner we find out who is behind these murders, the safer everyone will be."
-X-
For all that Wonder Woman's plane was a marvel of advanced science, Dick thought, riding in it felt pretty much like riding in any other aircraft. There was the standard shifting discomfort as he tried to find enough room for his legs, now complicated by concern that he might shove a foot through the fuselage with his newly acquired strength. And there was the sullen prospect of several hours trapped in one seat with nothing to do but look out the window. Of course here he could pretty much look out the whole plane. The space between his feet showed an endless expanse of the purple-blue Atlantic. He had to trust that Diana knew how to operate the machine, but he couldn't help wishing he were at the controls, Donna at his side as co-pilot.
The first time they'd flown together, they'd both been wearing little more than fancy swimsuits. He at least had a cape to sit on that kept the backs of his thighs from sticking to the leather seats of their jet. Donna had grimaced every time she moved. He'd worked at not being distracted by her legs.
Now, they would fly together without a plane. If she still wanted to see him after he told her what he'd done. She sat in the seat beside him, her expression pensive. He'd seen that expression far too often during their lives. It was time, whether he liked it or not. He flipped open the compartment on his gauntlet and retrieved the now-empty vial carefully.
"Donna."
She turned from watching the clouds go by, and the vial glinted in his open palm. She took it and immediately saw that it was empty.
"You got my message?" Her eyes brightened. Was it hope, anticipation?
"Message?" Dick shook his head. What message had she sent? "Slade destroyed my phone."
"Oh." Distress clouded whatever bright emotion she'd had. "I thought, since it's empty, maybe you --"
"--I used it, Donna. I didn't see another way to stop Slade from drinking the ambrosia, or to be sure of beating him." He kept his voice low. Diana was in the front of the plane, guiding it despite the lack of physical controls. He didn't want her to hear this confession if he could avoid it, but he couldn't put it off, either. Donna deserved the truth now, before they reached her home.
Donna's eyes closed for a moment, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling. Then her hand closed around his, and she took a breath as she opened her eyes. "The message was simple." Her voice was as low as his. "I choose you."
As close as he sat to her, he couldn't have mistaken her words. But he could still hallucinate... she couldn't have said what he heard, could she?
She was staring at him, eyes wide and hopeful, waiting for him to say or do something. He felt momentarily frozen. He'd been struck dumb with grief, with fear, even with horror. But to be frozen with joy was new. New, and apparently more overwhelming. He knew what to do when confronted with grief or fear or horror. But what should he do now?
He tried to speak, but only managed an inarticulate, "Oh." Talk, Dick. Don't leave her sitting there unanswered. But, if he moved, if he spoke, he might shatter this moment that seemed as delicate as the vial he'd given her seconds ago.
No, he told himself firmly. This moment wouldn't break. They wouldn't break. They were unbreakable. That truth warmed him rapidly. They'd been through fighting, war, and death together. They'd been to hell and back, almost literally. Surely, they would survive loving each other.
"I mean, I realize you chose to use the ambrosia for practical, heroic reasons." Her chin came up as if she were trying to be brave. He wished they were alone so that he could show her how impractical his thoughts regarding her were. "But, I want you to know that if you want to try for more--"
"I love you." He hated that he had to whisper the words rather than shout them to the heavens and the gods themselves. "I want more. I'll show you how much more when I can."
She glanced forward, toward Diana's back. And then a smile like the sunrise spread across her lips. "I'll hold you to that."
-X-
By the time the plane broke through the god-storm surrounding Themyscira, Donna's heart was soaring. She hadn't stopped smiling since Dick had told her he loved her. She replayed the words in her mind, hearing them again in his whisper. I love you. I love you. The same way she loved him. There were doubtless a dozen complications to work out -- Batman's reaction, and her mother's, not to mention housing and how to explain things to their friends. But she didn't care. They had each other. Forever. Life was good.
"That's your home?" Dick asked. He'd leaned over to look past her for a better view of the lush island.
"Yes." She stared at Themyscira with new eyes. The sight of those rich green forests separated by tufted fields, the white stone palace and the darker houses had always pulled her in two directions before. This was a haven, and it was also the place where she most felt a stranger. Now, however, she was returning to her home a recognized princess, and bringing with her the man she loved. Today, all she saw as she looked out the plane was the beauty of the place.
This homecoming was a new beginning, even though she returned to murders and mystery. She wouldn't let those troubles dampen her joy as she pointed out the various temples and the palace to Dick. They approached for landing, and she saw that some of her sisters had gathered to meet the plane. Not the queen, however. Donna tried not to be disappointed. Hippolyta had so many duties, and there were those murders to hold her attention.
Diana knew it, too, because as she brought the plane down for a gentle landing, she said, "I'm sorry the queen can't be here to greet you. We will introduce you to the others then begin the investigation. Mother will offer an audience when she can."
"Any specific protocol I should know when that happens?" Dick asked.
"No, we're not as formal as some courts." Diana paused, then glanced over her shoulder. "But if she asks you to call her 'Polly,' she means it."
"Polly. Right." Dick turned to Donna and mouthed, "Queen Polly?" with an exaggerated expression.
Donna bit her lip to keep from laughing. Diana and Dick climbed out of the plane before her, giving her a precious few extra moments to control her laughter. By the time she joined them on the ground, Diana was finishing brief introductions. "Philippus, captain of our guard, and Menalippe, our oracle."
Dick nodded his greetings, and would have fallen into step with Diana if Donna hadn't caught his arm. He resisted her tug just a little, but then turned. "Sorry, still getting used to the strength thing."
He was stronger, and he healed rapidly now. She wouldn't have to worry about dislocating his shoulder again. "We have to talk about that sometime. The powers, I mean."
"I know. And I want to." He glanced over his shoulder. They were both conscious of the fact he was needed elsewhere. "I know about flight and speed, strength and healing. And I'm pretty sure Hephaestus' gift has to do with sorting out problems. I look at a situation and I can see the gears of it working."
"Which should be helpful in solving the murders, right?" She said it to release him to duty. She told herself she didn't need to hold him now.
"Right." He started to go. She caught his arm again.
"If you'll give me that," she indicated the arrow-case still dangling from his shoulder, "I'll get the ritual for returning it started."
He shrugged off the strap and held out the case. That he didn't hesitate underlined his trust in her. Then he leaned forward to drop a light kiss on her mouth. "I'll see you later."
This time, Donna let him go with her sister.
"Is he the one, Princess?" Menalippe asked. She'd switched back to Themysciran Greek after the brief English greetings.
Donna would have played dumb to almost anyone else on the island, but if any of them knew about the gift, it would be the oracle. She didn't bother avoiding the question. "Yes, he is."
"He's beautiful, and it's clear you love him." It was probably shallow to enjoy the look of envy that swept briefly over Menalippe's face, but Donna didn't care. She was going to enjoy every aspect of claiming Dick as her own, including the appreciation of other women.
-X-
"I know you don't have a morgue," Dick said to Diana as they left the landing site. He resisted the urge to glance back at Donna, instead focusing on the situation at hand. "But if any of the bodies haven't been buried, I want to see them."
"We burn our dead. But we're still preparing Timandra's funerary rites. You can see her." Diana glanced at him. "No mask?"
"Why should I wear the mask?" Dick asked. "You and Donna know who I am, and nobody else here cares."
Diana smiled. "Bruce wore his, when he was here."
"I'm not Bruce." Bruce. He'd have to tell Bruce about the powers, eventually. Yet another conversation he wasn't looking forward to. Fortunately, he didn't need to ponder that explanation yet. He had a case to focus in, the murder of several women who weren't ever supposed to die. Literally.
He knew the investigation didn't start with the examination of the body. It started now, on the path to wherever the dead woman's body rested. A wealth of clues waited in the people who walked by, in the buildings, in the society that housed the killer. In Bludhaven, he would have been reading hints already. But Themyscira was a foreign place. All the buildings looked like temples from a movie studio's back lot, though they were painted more brightly than he'd seen in the movies. All the women stared at him, many not having seen a male of the species for years or longer. It was hard to read anything beyond surprise, interest, or suspicion on their faces.
Only, he could see clues. Minute twitches in a brow that didn't quite frown, in a jaw that tightened, made a pattern of fear. Every woman here, even those that hated his presence simply because he was male, felt some degree of fear. It was, he realized, the fact that murder was alien to these women. Some had lived a thousand years and more, and never imagined such an evil deed at the hands of a sister. It would be hard for a murderer to hide here. Unlike in Bludhaven, here every citizen, whether farmer or scholar or soldier, was looking for the killer. And also unlike in Bludaven, none would hesitate to turn the criminal in.
Dick filed that bit of information in the back of his mind as he followed Diana into a small building behind one of the temples. The walls were cut stone, at least two feet thick, and the air inside was noticeably cooler than the air outside.
"Our version of a morgue," she told him, then gestured toward the far end. "She is there."
Daylight entered not only from the door Diana left open, but also through a series of small skylights overhead, each pointed toward a bronze mirror that amplified the thin light and turned it golden without adding heat to the space. The place was cooled, he realized, by a stream of carefully channeled water that ran around the perimeter of the floor and under each of the stone slabs. A morgue indeed, but why would immortal Amazons have one?
Diana seemed to sense his question. "The priestesses gave over their milk house so their sisters could be preserved. I suspect they will tear it down after this and build a new one."
Dick nodded. Timandra's body lay on a slab in the rear of the room, nude and undraped. The Amazons had no cultural mores that would demand anything different, but the sight still surprised him. He felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. Still, he approached and began his examination.
The corpse was slightly swollen, the face distorting already despite the chill. Dick supposed she'd been beautiful in life. All Amazons seemed to be. But, beauty had left her now.
"She was a weaver and a skilled huntress," Diana said, stepping closer herself and touching the woman's dark hair.
Dick nodded absently. There was no doubt what had killed Timandra. Her torso bore several deep gashes. Though cleaned, the wounds still revealed muscle, bone, and at her belly a bit of gray intestine that had likely leaked bile into her body. It had been a slow, vicious, and painful death. Why had no one heard her screams of agony? Why had she not been found and treated?
"What about the other victims?" Dick asked. Out of habit he pulled on surgical gloves before gently probing the abdominal wound.
"No common patterns," Diana said. "Other than they all had dark hair and light eyes, and were about my height. Aella said they looked like me, though I didn't see the resemblance."
He stared harder at the dead face. The cheek bones were high, the chin small yet strong. The cracking lips might have once been full. Focused now, his newfound ability to see the pattern of things gave him an image of the woman in life.
Dick stiffened as his new insight slammed the pieces of the puzzle into place. He turned to Diana. "Not you. Donna."
Diana's eyes widened. "Yes, Donna. Why didn't I see it before?" She paused, clearly thinking, then said, "Because my sisters don't think of Donna. They think of me."
"They all looked like Donna?" His mind now put together a puzzle he didn't want to see. "Why would someone, or something, on this island want to kill Donna?"
"Some thing?" Diana picked up on the emphasis he'd given that word.
Yes, thing. His fingers slid along the wound, searching. His conscious mind had been focused on her face, but another part had not missed the odd texture he'd felt an instant before. He found it again, stiff and yet flexible.
"She's in danger," Dick said. "Because whatever killed this woman wasn't human."
"Not human?" Diana frowned. "You mean Amazon?"
"Amazons are still human." Dick paused to pull a small pair of tweezers from his wristguard and then lifted a length of keratin from the wound. "Unless some of them have claws, no Amazon murdered this woman."
"Hera. What is that?"
"It's the outer layer of a claw." The thing was smoky colored and at least an inch long. "Or rather part of one. Like what cats shed when they sharpen their claws. DNA testing will confirm my suspicion that this didn't belong to any normal, mortal creature dwelling on your island."
"We have to warn Donna," Diana said.
"No, not just warn her." Dick's desire to protect Donna accelerated to about Mach five. What he wanted was to find her right now and take her off this island. He wasn't ready to risk losing her to some monster. A deep breath and brief closing of his eyes helped him control that wave of protectiveness.
Whisking Donna back to New York might or might not save her from some supernatural monster, but it would do nothing for any woman on Themyscira who remotely looked like her. Donna wouldn't leave with her Amazon sisters in danger, and he couldn't fault her for being a hero. That they understood that part of each other was one of the things that pulled them together. "No, we have to warn her, and then gather forces and help her deal with this threat. We have to have her back, as she'd have ours."
Diana cocked her head and really looked at him, for the first time, he realized. "You're right. After the ceremony --"
"The ceremony should wait, Diana. We have no idea when this monster will strike again."
"It can't wait. Dick, I'm sorry, but the priestesses will have already begun preparations. The arrow has to go back to Artemis before we can hunt this monster, and you have to be there. You have a role in the ceremony."
He clenched his fists. That felt wrong, out of order, dangerous. But, he was in their world now, and he couldn't force them to listen to him on this. "We'll still talk to Donna first though. There had better be time for that."
-X-
Donna dimly remembered a life when, as a young girl, she tended this ceremonial grove where the ritual would take place. She didn't know if that was a real memory or a fabrication courtesy of Dark Angel, but she liked it. She liked remembering this island as her childhood home, the Amazons as tutors, friends, sisters.
The grove sat in a natural amphitheater with sheer rock walls hugging three sides and a quarter circle of white columns completing the ring. Flowering trees decorated the space between the columns and heavy-scented vines trailed over the cliffs. Blue sky above formed the only roof.
The space held no set furnishings, but several priestesses had brought out ornamented tables of gilded wood. Donna tried to keep her thoughts serene as she swept the last of the leaves from the mosaic floor of the central ring. She'd stubbornly kept the arrow with her rather than surrender it to the high priestess as requested. Its case now bumped against her ribs with every movement.
The priestesses filed out, disappearing between the white columns, and Menalippe returned, carrying linen cloths for the wooden tables. She glanced over her shoulder to watch the others vanish, then hurried to Donna's side.
"You shouldn't be here, you or your beloved," the oracle whispered. "I fear you both are in grave danger."
"If the murderer thinks she can get the drop on Dick --" the expression didn't quite translate, Donna saw, but she forged ahead with her attempt to lighten the oracle's suddenly dour mood -- "she has another think coming. Unless, of course, you meant that I'll be fighting all my sisters for him."
"I wish it were simple jealousy." The oracle set the linen cloths on one table, then gestured Donna closer. "I've been having strange visions since Princess Diana returned from Olympus, since these murders began. I fear his life, and yours, are at risk."
"Why would anyone here, apart from the murderer, want to hurt us?" Donna understood politics and jealousy could push people toward strange choices, but Dick had nothing to do with either of those on Themyscira. And even if someone resented Donna's good fortune enough to harm her, they wouldn't go against the decree of the gods. Would they?
"No one here, Princess." Menalippe shook her head vigorously. "I fear the threat comes from beyond this world."
Dread swept through Donna. A threat from beyond this world … either a god-created monster, or the gods themselves. Neither one offered good odds. She refused to be intimidated by the thought. She would not lose the happiness she had to some divine whim. "If there is, Menalippe, that threat will have to go through me if it wants to touch him."
The oracle shied from the fury in her voice. "Perhaps it will not come to that. Once the Arrow of Strife is returned to its rightful owner, this evil may pass by you both. Perhaps that evil thing is the source of all my nervousness and the ceremony will set all things right again."
Donna doubted Menalippe believed a word of that soothing speech. She didn't appreciate being coddled either. But, she said nothing more. Instead, she took one of the cloths, unfolded it, and with a snap sent it flying over the table. She was forewarned now, and ready to face whatever threatened her happiness.
The white cloth briefly obscured her vision as it drifted slowly down. When it settled on the surface Donna flinched in surprise. The priestess Penelope stood at the opposite side of the table.
"My apologies, Princess," Penelope said. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Then again, Donna thought, most expressions never quite reached the priestess' eyes. "The queen requests your presence, Menalippe. I believe she wants some insight into the newest member of her family."
So, that's what's troubling the starchy priestess, Donna thought. She doesn't approve of a man among her Amazons. She and Dick would have to deal with that attitude, unfortunately.
"Of course I shall attend the queen," Menalippe said. "But the preparations --"
"I'll take your place here," Penelope said. "Donna and I can finish."
"Thank you," Menalippe said. Donna had the sense that the oracle didn't want to leave, but she started toward the palace.
Penelope took one of the other cloths and moved to a table on the far side of the clearing, behind Donna.
At least the priestess didn't care for chit chat. Donna preferred the quiet for her thoughts, but she slowly became aware that the silence was too complete. Before, there had been at least the occasional chirp of a bird or insect. Now, the animal life had all gone still. Behind her, she heard a sharp gasp.
Donna pivoted, ready for a fight. Penelope stood, one hand against her heart and the other pointing into the shadows of the rocks. Her normally emotionless eyes were wide with fear. Donna narrowed her own eyes. Something did skulk in the darkness, more suggestion of form than form itself. It could well be the killer.
"Penelope! Get back!" Donna raced forward. The priestess was long out of practice as a warrior, but she was a Titan, a hero. To the skulker in the shadows she shouted, "Whatever you are, show yourself."
The form rose, still too indistinct to see clearly, but it seemed human enough. A mist lifted from the ground, just as Donna's foot left the mosaic circle. The gas shimmered a soft candy pink in the air before her face. Then, the whole world went dark.
-X-
The quiet slap of bare feet on marble made Diana look up to see Dick emerging from the room he'd been given in the palace. A pale green ritual robe draped from his shoulders to the floor. She wore an identical robe, as did all of the Amazons who would be attending tonight's ritual.
"Getting one of these to fit would be easier if you guys imported some elastic," he said, adjusting the robe around his waist.
Diana knew he was trying to cover his anxiety with humor. They'd been unable to find Donna in the palace. The priestesses said she was helping prepare the ritual grove, but that Dick couldn't disturb her there. He might have gone anyway if they hadn't assured him she wasn't alone. As it was, he remained tense and eager to be back to doing what was familiar -- figuring out crimes and capturing the offenders. Batman was right, they were very alike.
Except, Diana thought, Batman wouldn't have been as respectful of their Amazon customs. She found herself liking Donna's choice in spite of herself.
"We could always attend naked, if you prefer." She couldn't quite resist teasing a little. Bruce would've gone stony-faced, but Dick's expression suggested he might enjoy a naked ritual.
He cleared his throat. "I knew Greeks competed naked. I didn't know they celebrated naked."
"We are not, strictly speaking, Greeks anymore," Diana said, gesturing him to walk with her. "Our rituals and ceremonies have evolved over the centuries since we've been here."
"I see." Dick was silent a few steps, then he said, carefully, "If it's proper for this ritual to be performed naked, I don't want to offend."
Now Diana had to chuckle. "I shouldn't tease. No, this is not a celebration. It's an invocation. And the robes are appropriate attire." She led him down the palace steps, and they emerged into the cooler evening air. Singly or in small groups, her sisters threaded their way out of the city and toward the grove.
"What do I need to know?" Dick asked. "My Greek's not good enough to follow all of it."
Diana blinked. "You speak Greek?"
"A little. Donna taught me," he added to what she was sure was her puzzled expression. "When we were on monitor duty in Titans Tower. Had to do something to pass the time."
"I see." And she did -- more, she suspected, than he intended her to. A light had flickered in his eyes, and though she didn't know him well, she guessed the thought behind it. There were more interesting ways to pass time now that he and Donna were closer.
The light faded quickly though. He was clearly still worried. "So, where is the ritual?"
How long will it take? When can we get back to more important matters? Diana read those questions in his words as well. "The ceremony will be performed in the grove. The high priestess fears the presence of the arrow could sully the temple. For the same reason, she will not be in attendance."
That last explanation had rung strangely in Diana's ears as Menalippe, the oracle, relayed it. But, all things about the arrow unsettled her. She wanted it gone from Earth, back to the gods who could properly tend it. And then she, like Dick, wanted to return to the matter of her sisters' murders. "The grove is usually used for meditation and marriages and for private offerings. But, the living setting is more easily purified than the stone of the temple. It's already prepared for what we must do."
"Efficient," Dick observed.
"Very," Diana agreed. The speed of that preparation still startled her, but Penelope and Menalippe were both excellent organizers, and it was possible that either of them had had some premonition that a ritual would be necessary. There was no need to read a sinister intent into that preparedness.
The path split in two at the edge of the palace gardens. To the left the broader way led down to the Grove of Antiope and Doom's Doorway. The path to the right followed the twisting edge of a cliff before cutting back into the hills. Diana led Dick that way. The seaward wind pulled at their hair and long robes, then died as they entered a grove of fruit trees. Several hundred Amazons had gathered, observers rather than participants in the coming ritual. The crowd parted to allow them to pass.
Euboea, one of Penelope's novitiates, waited before the white pillars with a stone bowl in her hands. To either side, other novitiates, some carrying baskets of fruit, others with flasks of wine, stood silent. Diana couldn't see Donna, however, and her sister's absence was puzzling.
She sensed rather than saw Dick pause beside her. He had noticed Donna was missing as well. "She'll be here," Diana reassured him. "She has the arrow."
"All right." He was trusting her. She felt the weight of that obligation settle on her.
Euboea presented the bowl for washing and Diana moved through the ritual, more distracted now than she would normally be. That wasn't good. It was important to focus on the gods when approaching them. They took offense easily, as her recent time on Olympus had made her all the more aware.
Then, a flask of wine was put into her hands. Beyond the trees and columns she saw the cloth draped table that would serve as altar, and Menalippe behind it. Dick finished his cleansing and stepped closer.
"I still don't see her," Dick said in the low tone this space demanded.
"Nor do I."
The novitiates filed past them into the sacred space. Each left her offering on the table, raised her arms in silent prayer, and moved away. Menalippe gestured Diana and Dick forward.
The moment their bare feet touched the mosaic, metal bowls of incense flared around the circle. Diana felt a force crash down behind them as secure as any cage. Dick might not realize it, but the gods had already come, and they held all within the grove. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. What was happening here?
One of the novitiates approached, either oblivious to or accepting of the sudden imprisonment. The case in her hands absorbed Diana's attention so completely that she didn't try to puzzle out the woman's placid response to the unexpected magic. The girl twisted the case open, revealing the silver Arrow of Strife. In halting English, she told Dick, "Take it to the altar."
"Where's Donna?" he demanded in a voice harsh enough that the girl took a step back.
If he wasn't careful, he could be struck down. Diana touched his arm. "Not now. We have to finish this. Then we will find her. I promise."
He turned to face her, mouth tight and eyes hard with anger.
"Dick, please. It has begun." She glanced around the circle in which they were trapped.
He must have caught her meaning, all of it, in that one glance. The anger never left his face, but he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and pulled the arrow free of its confinement.
As he carried the arrow to the table, Euboea led Diana to her place several paces to the rear. From there, she watched the young priestesses dance and sing. The chants poured from her lips rhythmically, but without heart. What had the gods tricked them into? And what had happened to Donna?
The power of the gods filled the space. To Diana it felt like a storm rising, full of ozone and the wet of rain. This was Zeus' work, not Artemis'. The sense of betrayal smothered her. Once, as the dancing reached its crescendo, Menalippe glanced over her shoulder. The oracle's eyes were wide and nervous, as if even she had been blind to the true purpose of the rite until that moment.
Lightning brightened the clear sky. Thunder shook the cliffs behind the grove. The brightness blinded. The roar deafened. For a moment, Diana stood in a world without sound or light. When her senses recovered, she saw the altar table had shattered. All the food and drink it had held lay scattered about the grove, rejected. The Arrow, however, had vanished. And, worst of all, so had Dick.