Chapter Two

Seven hours and a dirt-cheap red-eye flight from New Gotham to Seattle later, Dinah was in Seattle. After a thirty-minute cab ride from Seattle-Tacoma International Airport (or SeaTac, as it's known locally), Dinah was at her mother's house.

The house itself was a modest ranch-style home situated on a quiet tree-lined street near the heart of the city. It was all Dinah could do to keep her hand from shaking as she turned the key in the lock. My mother walked here, she thought. The lights were useless; the utilities had long since been cut off after Carolyn Lance's death. How was my mother able to afford this house? Dinah wondered as she walked through the front door. She opened the gym bag that she was carrying, took out a small flashlight, turned it on, and locked and closed the door.

Carolyn's furniture -- sofa, coffee table, chair, etc. -- was draped in clear plastic dropcloths; Carolyn's lawyers (who were the executors of the estate) had been reluctant to sell anything until Dinah -- the heir -- had been found. Dinah removed the dropcloth from the sofa and sat down. My mother sat here, she thought. Since dawn had yet to break over the city, Dinah took off her shoes, lay down on the sofa, and went to sleep.

"I am SO not a morning person," Helena whined over the comm. It was now mid-morning in Seattle. She was wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt, black hi-top sneakers, and a pair of Trinity-style sunglasses. She was driving a late model Pontiac (a Wayne Enterprises company car) en route from Seattle-Tacoma Executive Airpark (after having arrived there via a Wayne Enterprises Learjet) to Carolyn Lance's house.

"It's jet lag," said Oracle on the other end of the line. "It'll pass."

"I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?"

"For starters … working days," said Helena. "That … and driving."

"I need you to keep a low profile," said Oracle. "The people of Seattle aren't used to seeing someone leap from rooftop to rooftop in broad daylight."

"I hope you realize this is gonna screw up my bio-rhythm BIG TIME."

"I need you there to watch over Dinah."

"Look … don't get me wrong," said Helena. "I care too. If she's gotta face scumbags, I wanna be there." Helena paused. "And what's this business about her health?"

"That's what I'D like to know," said Oracle quietly.

The mid-morning light pouring through the windows, Dinah set to work on exploring the rest of the house. She walked into her mother's bedroom and opened the closet door. My mother's clothes, she thought. She then walked over to the dresser and ran her fingers along the top of it (It -- like the bed and the rest of the furniture in the room -- was covered by a clear plastic dropcloth). My mother lived here … slept here.

"1603 Thrushcross Drive," said Helena as she slowly drove past Carolyn Lance's house. "Looks like this is the place."

"According to Carolyn's DMV record, that should have been her most recent address," said Oracle over the comm.

Helena came to a stop four houses away from Carolyn's. "What're you doing?" Oracle inquired, wondering about Helena's seemingly bizarre behavior.

"I don't want Dinah to see me … at least not yet," said Helena.

Flashlight in hand, Dinah walked into the garage and opened the garage door. She removed the silver-gray cloth cover that was draped over Carolyn's car -- a late model forest-green Chrysler convertible.

From her position four houses down, Helena noted the open garage door at Carolyn Lance's house. "She's home," said Helena. With all the stealth of The Huntress, she got out of the car -- taking care not to slam the door -- and slowly made her way towards the house.

Dinah stood next to the driver's side door, running her palm along the door of the convertible, admiring it.

"Nice car," said a voice -- Helena's -- from the driveway.

Dinah turned towards the voice with a start. Helena was standing in the garage doorway, half-in/half-out of the light.

"Helena!" Dinah exclaimed. "What're you doing here?"

"Oracle sent me," said Helena. "What's this business about your health?"

"You wanna know?"

"Yeah."

Dinah sighed. "What's this thing I have inside me?" she asked.

"I don't understand," said Helena. "What ... 'thing'?"

"Do you remember that day in the training room? The day my PK first came out?"

"Yeah."

"It scared the hell outta me," said Dinah. "What else do I have inside me, waiting to come out?"

"So you think your father has all the powers that you possess … but your mother lacks?"

"How would YOU explain it?" asked Dinah. "My mother had the Canary Cry … and that was about it."

Dinah noticed Helena touching her earring. Oracle is speaking, she thought. "Has it ever occurred to you," said Helena. "That you might've inherited more from your mother's side of the family than you realize?"

"What do you mean?"

Helena touched her earring once more. "Metahuman abilities … are no different than any other inherited traits," said Helena, repeating Oracle's words. "Depending upon whether the gene is dominant or recessive, they can lie dormant in one generation … while expressing themselves in another."

"So what you're saying is … my mother may have been a carrier for a whole slew of metahuman traits?" Dinah asked.

Helena touched her earring. "There IS that possibility, yes," said Helena.

"My health is only one reason," said Dinah.

"What else is there?" asked Helena.

"As it stands, half my family tree is a blank," said Dinah. "Say what you will about Mr. Wayne, you know your father…"

"No, I DON'T know my father," said Helena. "I never have."

"You know his NAME," said Dinah. "You know THAT much, at least."

"True."

"Helena, Oracle … I'm begging you," Dinah pleaded. "Don't deny that to ME."

"I don't think you know what you're getting into."

"Explain."

"Canary X'd your father's name off your birth certificate for a reason," said Helena. "It's obvious that she did NOT want you to have a relationship with him."

"What was wrong with him?"

"You might say he was … unsavory."

" 'Unsavory', how?"

"In all likelihood, he was one of her underworld contacts," said Helena. "I guess she figured he'd be a bad influence on you."

"I've gotta find him," said Dinah.

"You sure?"

"God only knows what he's carrying."

"At least let us help!"

"I was trying to avoid involving you."

"Dinah, we're a team," said Helena. "We're ALREADY involved!"

"You really wanna help?"

"We know you," said Helena. "We take you back to New Gotham, you're gonna be back here the first chance you get." She paused. "Let's deal with this."

"What about Leonard? And your sweeps?"

"I told Leonard my sister had a medical emergency," said Helena. "And as for my sweeps … it's not as if the bad guys are going anywhere," she said with a smile.

"All right," said Dinah resignedly. "If you insist."

"Great," said Helena. "We'll set up here…"

"NO!" Dinah interjected.

"No?" countered Helena. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"It's not my house."

"Waddya mean 'it's not your house'?" Helena interjected. "Your mother left it to you!"

"It'll never be my house," said Dinah quietly. "I feel her presence." She paused. "I can't walk through the place without being reminded ... of HER."

"It's all right," said Oracle over the comm. "Bruce has a private suite at the Edgewater Hotel near the waterfront. You two can set up there."

"You're kidding…" said Helena to Oracle.

"No, I'm not," said Oracle. "One … Wayne Enterprises has operations in Seattle. Two … Bruce often goes fishing off Vancouver Island."

"All right … we'll do it there."

"I'll let the front desk know you're coming."

"You're in luck," said Helena to Dinah. "My … father … has a private hotel room down near the waterfront. We can set up there."