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Batman 1939: Three's Company

Chapter 8: Straights Against Curves

Catwoman was angry. The feeling had consumed her so quickly that she only realized her anger after she noticed that her cheeks felt hot and her stomach refused to unclench and her vision was tunneling and she wanted to break things. The muscles of her face were so frozen by rage-pressure that her expression remained tranquil. Catwoman wasn't the type to fight her feelings. She dived in and let them soak. They felt righteous.

While stewing in the bitter rush, Catwoman remembered a Sunday school lesson from a lifetime ago that this flavor of anger had a name: wrath. She hadn't felt wrath in a long time. Make no mistake: Catwoman was a big fan of the deadly sins. Gluttony had never been tempting, but the rest of the list was plenty of fun, and wrath was near the top. Some of her fondest memories had been fueled by wrath. But Catwoman had realized long ago that wrath, fun or not, was ultimately a weak person's emotion. She knew this because she used to be a weak person. Weak people had attachments, and when the universe ruined those attachments, then all the weak had left was bitterness. She hated being weak. Better to live unattached and get while the gettin's good, like a cat.

But like a cat, Catwoman had tried to slip even that one rule, expecting that the universe wouldn't notice. She had kept an attachment, a friend. Then last night her friend nearly burned to death. Catwoman had sat a long vigil by Maven Lewis' hospital bed as Maven struggled to breathe. The doctors said her lungs might fully recover, or she might have a cough for the rest of her life, but either way she was very lucky. Another two minutes in the smoke and her prognosis would have been far less cheerful. Catwoman despised hospitals.

After taking her friend to safety in the early morning hours, Catwoman set off to avenge her. The day's adventure brought her through a tilt-a-whirl of feelings, but none of those feelings had been wrath because she had no target, and Catwoman wasn't the sort of misanthrope who could direct wrath at hypothetical people or at everyone.

Then Abdiel Cehennem, novice wizard and world's biggest ball of lard, admitted that he was responsible for nearly killing her friend and ruining a few hundred other lives. Now Catwoman had a target, and wrath was back in her life like the furnace of a locomotive. The only reason Catwoman didn't immediately take her pound of flesh upon hearing Abdiel's confession was because Batman - whose emotional sensitivity was usually stuck between 'defective' and 'pebble' - anticipated her feelings and held her hand before she could use it more productively. Otherwise Abdiel would have been due a few hundred stitches and maybe a new ear. Then Batman proceeded to humiliate Abdiel so completely that even Catwoman's rage was happy to stay and watch the show.

But that was only an appetizer. After Batman finished, the time seemed ripe for Catwoman to enact her own vengeance, but then Shadowcrest decided to wrap Abdiel in an iron chrysalis. The metal was obviously claw-proof. Catwoman quietly fumed. She turned to Batman for an explanation he couldn't provide.

The spirit of the old house opened a hole in the wall. "Come," it commanded as it entered. "Now the contest is afoot." Abdiel's metal prison grew three spindly legs and tottered through the hole after it. Catwoman heard Abdiel's muffled protests, presumably about the discomfort of blindly bouncing inside a moving sarcophagus, but no one cared.

Instead, Catwoman watched Batman try to apologize to Zatanna for getting her punched in the ear. It seemed his emotional wisdom had reset to 'pebble' as he tried explain himself through sentence fragments, only for Zatanna to interrupt by shouting "What?" as she rubbed her ear, which Batman answered with louder sentence fragments.

Catwoman walked between them and elbowed Batman fiercely in the side. He huffed and glared at her. Catwoman ignored him and smiled at Zatanna. "There, now you're square."

Zatanna cringed at the violence and yelled, "Do you solve everything with hitting?"

Catwoman shrugged. "More him, honestly."

"What?" shouted Zatanna.

"Excuse us." Catwoman took Batman by the shoulder and led him aside. "Can we talk a minute? Alone? Over there? Now?"

Batman sensed the rolling boil behind Catwoman's thin smile and followed without comment. She didn't give him enough credit: the World's Greatest Detective was very good at reading emotions. A parade of dark fixations in his brain made it difficult to express his own emotions, but that was a separate issue. He could certainly recognize when a person felt like committing grave bodily harm, having seen harm aimed at his own grave body many times.

Catwoman waited for Zatanna to pass through the hole in the wall. When they were alone in the dining room, she clasped Batman's face and aimed it at hers.

Hey! Are you listening?

Batman looked deep into Catwoman's big green eyes. His mind played a rapid montage of ways the next few minutes might transpire, each more concerning than the last.

He slowly nodded. I'm listening.

She patted his cheek and released his face. You know this little game we play? We joke, we bicker, I tease you, you stand there like a stump? I'm calling a timeout.

He looked past her. I have no idea what you're talking about.

Catwoman snorted. I missed it too. But let's be serious. You were right: this magic nonsense is the worst. Now we need to work together.

Batman folded his arms suspiciously. What have we been doing?

She rolled her eyes. You know what I mean.

I don't.

These Cehennem brothers burned the Lisbon! Mystery solved. Now you have the bad guys.

Catwoman poked him in the chest. Let's drop the hammer on 'em.

We're here to-

Yeah, yeah, I know. We're here for the showgirl. Fine. But you're Batman. Save the kid and slug the thugs. Bing-bang-boom, right? Special order for two hot servings of justice.

But I-

Catwoman cracked her knuckles and grinned. I can't wait to go to town on these piles of trash! How about we start with their fingers? See if they like casting spells with their knuckles.

Batman shook his head. Catwoman, you can't-

I'm trying to think of a way to get Fatso the Wizard out of his cage. This place has a lot of weird rules popping up, and you've got the knack for figuring those out. I'll bring the pain; I just need a tour guide to Neverland. Are you with me?

Batman pursed his lips.

Catwoman, the brothers aren't our priority.

Catwoman shoved him into the wall. Her expression turned mean.

Don't you dare get soft on me. Let's see the real Batman.

She shoved him again.

I know he's in there. I've seen him. I need the guy who learns two killers burned down an apartment and gets on the warpath. Come on Caped Crusader, here's your crusade.

Batman's mouth was a frigid line. He didn't enjoy being reminded that she had seen him lose his temper the last time they worked together, and the notion that he lacked enthusiasm for crimefighting was ridiculous. He caught her third shove.

I haven't forgotten about the Lisbon. If by some miracle I can bring the brothers to justice without risking our lives, I will. But we're not in control here. Stop acting like it.

He pushed against Catwoman's hands, forcing her back.

And no one is getting mutilated.

She pulled her hands away with a disgusted look.

Coward.

Before she could gesture again, Shadowcrest appeared through the wall between them. "Sorry to interrupt your silent twitchings, but are we ready to proceed?"

Catwoman shot Batman another nasty look as she slipped through the hole.

If you won't help, then I'll do it myself.

Batman followed at a distance, mentally updating his list of ways the night could get worse.


Zatanna hadn't noticed Batman and Catwoman's absence. Beyond the hole she found an extraordinary library and instantly forgot everyone else. The room was as wide as a football field and twice the length. Its barrel-vaulted ceiling arched forty feet overhead, covered with copper mosaics that glowed like the setting sun. By this gentle light, Zatanna gaped at ten million books. It was an impossible abundance of books, more than ever printed, more than ever dreamed. Wooden bookshelves covered the vast walls and hundreds of bookcases crowded the floor.

Zatanna stood on a balcony, the highest of several tiers of balconies that circled the room and provided a fine vantage to the decadent architecture and the sea of words it carried. Batman and Catwoman approached from behind Zatanna, and they too were overcome by the sight, so much that they momentarily forgot their shoving match only seconds ago.

Zatanna, Batman, and Catwoman shared a love of libraries, though each would be surprised to learn this about the others.

Batman assumed Catwoman was too much of a thrillseeker to visit a library unless she was there to rob it.

Catwoman, who did rob libraries, had a genuine passion for the arts and considered literature enriching. She assumed that Zatanna wasn't interested in libraries because she assumed that strangers weren't sophisticated enough to share her hobbies. She also suspected that pretty people in show business weren't employed for their brains, though part of her knew this bias was unfair and a little hypocritical.

Zatanna wasn't very bookish, but her father used to drag her to libraries and book dealers across the world when she was young (which suddenly made more sense), and now she enjoyed visiting for old time's sake. She also liked that libraries were cool and quiet and let tired travelers sit all day for free. Zatanna assumed that Catwoman wasn't interested in libraries because she assumed criminals who started riots weren't much for reading.

As for Batman, Zatanna suspected that he didn't enjoy libraries because she doubted he was a regular human with regular pastimes. Catwoman assumed the same because she knew he was an irregular human with irregular pastimes. Both women believed that a Batman sighting in a library would make the news. Neither fathomed that he might wear something else in public. This lack of imagination said more about Catwoman who once saw him do that.

And Batman - possessing the only informed assumption amongst the three - assumed Zatanna didn't love libraries because he had known her for three months and she didn't love libraries. He knew that people changed. Logically, this woman named Zatanna was a stranger. But he had trouble not seeing the girl from fourteen years ago. And that girl never missed a chance to mock the books he brought to study every spare minute. On several occasions she had pretended to feed his books to doves or dip them in ink or burn them. Once she had actually burned his books because stage fire is fickle.

Now he saw Zatanna the woman gaze over this heaven of books with her features deep in thought. He saw her expression change to wonder, then to joy.

Zatanna grinned and said to no one in particular, "Hey, this is mine."

"That's the spirit," said Catwoman absentmindedly.

Shadowcrust rose through the floor before them, blocking their view. "We must hurry to the senechal's sanctum," it said briskly. "I'm bending the halls of the estate to speed our transit, but we have a vital stop here first. Take a ladder."

No one understood this command. Catwoman, who quickly remembered how angry she was, readied a snarky complaint when she heard singing metal nearby. The humans turned and saw three bookcase ladders racing towards them at highway speeds, stopping instantly when they arrived.

Abdiel's metal prison trotted to the bookshelves and hopped up. Its legs fit the ladder tracks and it sped off. They heard his screams fade in the distance.

Shadowcrest nodded. "Hold tight. The ride can-"

"Yeah, we get it," said Catwoman as she watched Abdiel circling the library like a cat stalking a fat canary. Without further ado, she sprung to the first ladder and raced after him, leaning forward as if to egg her steed faster.

Batman was about to grab the next ladder when he noticed that Zatanna was frozen behind him.

"Uhhh," she muttered as she stared at the ladders in rational wide-eyed terror. Batman hesitated, looking between her and Catwoman chasing Abdiel unsupervised.

"Come, Mistress," said Shadowcrest.

"Do you have one with a seat?" asked Zatanna. "Maybe a harness?"

Batman looked again at Catwoman, who seemed to be gaining on her prey.

"Now child!" said Shadowcrest, but Zatanna seemed more reluctant every second.

"Here." said Batman. He chopped at the nearest ladder, snapping off four wooden rungs. "You'll be fine."

Zatanna let him guide her to sit on a remaining rung with her back to the bookshelves. He tied a short rope across her lap so she couldn't fall forward. Zatanna trembled and held the ladder's rails with a white-knuckle grip.

"Don't worry about your hat," said Batman.

"What?" asked Zatanna.

Batman snatched the tophat from her head as the ladder rocketed away. Her screams echoed across the vast room. Batman held the hat and climbed aboard the last ladder one-handed. He looked at Shadowcrest. As he sped away, he thought for a moment that the spirit looked pleased.


The ladder tracks ahead of the four riders split off the wall, extending an arc of new tracks down the lower tiers of balconies. They descended like landing aircraft, soon connecting with the tall bookcases that covered the floor. As they descended, Batman saw that the outer stacks were spaced wide enough to fit a car, but the bookcases grew closer and more winding towards the middle of the library. The innermost rows were a maze, full of dark paths and dead-ends. Their ladders came to a surprisingly-gentle stop halfway towards this maze. The bookcases here were too close for two bodies to pass comfortably, close enough to cast shadows over their own shelves. It was no worse than many library basements in old universities Batman had visited.

Catwoman had already dismounted and was inspecting Abdiel's prison which was blissfully intact. Zatanna still sat on her ladder. Batman had feared that his rope wouldn't stop Zatanna from falling backwards when the tracks left the wall, but the ordeal only changed her screaming octave. Batman walked to her and held out her tophat. Zatanna looked at it for a moment as she hyperventilated, then she mutely patted down her wind-tossed hair and returned the hat to her head.

Batman took his rope back and gave her space. He sympathized. Magicians performed death-defying stunts with a smile, but the audience never saw the painstaking weeks of design and rehearsal to prepare those stunts. Most magicians faced as much genuine danger as a typical grocer, and Zatanna hadn't been much of a daredevil. It seemed that hadn't changed.

Zatanna struggled to her feet as Shadowcrest appeared through a bookcase.

"We must continue afoot," it said without preamble. "The most direct path is ahead between involuntary autobiographies and our Nubian etchings. They shall be no problem if we stay exactly on their border. Beyond them lies the domain of the ink lords and their catspaws in the noosphere. Be cautious. I've convinced the Phansigar strangling scrolls to abstain from cursing trespassers with pox or blindness, but they reserve the right to strangle."

"We still haven't heard your master plan, Shady," said Catwoman.

"Catwoman," warned Batman quietly.

"I think we deserve that much before we take your marching orders."

Shadowcrest ignored her and began walking the nearest path toward the library's heart. Abdiel's prison trotted behind.

Zatanna chased after him. "She's right, Shadowcrest, that would be awfully nice. I don't know what it's like to be a house, but we're getting really anxious in our, uh, chimneys. Or would it be attics? Where does a house keep its brains? Could you clean the doubts from our gutters, maybe? Does that make any sense? This is all very unfamiliar."

Batman followed Zatanna, and Catwoman reluctantly followed him.

After a pause, Shadowcrest said, "You deserve to know everything, Mistress, but I'm afraid circumstances are shifting on perilous courses even now, and to tarry would spell doom. Yet idle talk is reckless distraction when crossing the inner library. I will inform you as best I can while we remain in well-trod regions."

Zatanna nodded, her head twisting back and forth to read the spines of impressive books they passed. Batman was tempted to do the same, but instead he kept an eye on Catwoman as they brought up the rear. Her mood hadn't improved.

"We're waiting," called Catwoman.

Shadowcrest didn't look back. "As is your place, immodest commoner."

Batman could practically feel the anger radiating off of Catwoman at that remark.

How am I the immodest one? At least I'm wearing pants!

Batman gave her a look. She ignored it and scoffed at Zatanna's back.

You could count the freckles on her thighs from a blimp!

Batman glared at Catwoman, then quickened his pace to leave her behind.

Catwoman crossed her arms and fumed. A book beside her giggled. She gave it a furious look and it stopped.

Shadowcrest spoke. "Mistress, in more civilized generations, the news I'm about to impart would be shared in a great ceremony. I'm sorry you must learn it amid such pedestrian company." Shadowcrest paused to give the news a little gravity. "Zatanna Zatara, daughter of Sindella Zatara of House Cehennem, you are a mage."

"Oh." said Zatanna. "Neat."

"Oh?" asked Shadowcrest in disbelief.

She shrugged. "You said mom and her family were mages. Sounds genetic, so I figured I might have it. I still don't know what a mage is exactly."

"That's, well," Shadowcrest mumbled.

"I guess Abdiel could make chairs walk around. That was mage stuff, right? Could be good for my act. Faust's magic was scary. I'm not sure I want any of that."

Shadowcrest cleared its non-existent throat. "Mistress, listen well. There are as many perceptions of true magic as there are mages, and each of its manifold mysteries is the study of a lifetime. Notwithstanding these obstacles, I can share a few revelations no practitioner would dispute, and they must needs serve to outline reality such as your obligations tonight require."

Batman was walking beside Zatanna now, and she looked at him with raised eyebrows for support. He could only offer a head-shrug.

Shadowcrest continued. "Know then my revelations. First, the world is full of concepts thought to be rhetorical or imaginary which are quite tangible. Second the world is full of tangible things thought to be lifeless which are quite alive. Third, the world is full of living beings thought to be mindless which are quite intelligent. Finally, it is the birthright potential of the mage to act upon these earlier truths: to hold the intangible, find life in the dead, and commune with the mute."

They heard an impatient groan inside Abidel's walking prison. "Can I talk to her please? You're making it worse."

Shadowcrest looked at Zatanna. She nodded.

A gap folded open in the metal, letting Abdiel stick his face out. "Woo, stuffy in there. Hey, Zatanna."

Zatanna looked at him suspiciously. "Abdiel."

"I know we aren't best friends right now, but I am the only trained mage here, so I think you need me."

"Uh-huh."

"Believe it or not, one of the main reasons our folks were all so desperate to stop your dad is because someone had to teach you magic. We want to help you."

Shadowcrest gave Abdiel a look. "This is not the time to defend your family's wayward habits, child." It relented a little. "But one part of his sentiment is true: your mystic education is critical tonight."

Abdiel pressed on. "Listen, do you like movies?"

Zatanna nodded skeptically. "Sure."

"Did you see Fantasia? Big Disney picture. Came out last year."

"Yeah. I saw it."

"Remember that one bit, The Sorcerer's Apprentice?"

A flock of atlases flapped overhead. Zatanna watched them pass. "Mickey Mouse sends a bunch of broomsticks to carry water. They flood the place, and he gets in trouble."

"Exactly. That film is a perfect introduction to being a mage. Only Mickey would've died. Or worse. Magic is a dangerous art."

"Then why would I want to learn it?"

"Because a careful mage can do just about anything."

"Can you dodge a book?" asked Catwoman.

"What?"

Catwoman threw a book at his face.

"Ow!" cried Abdiel.

Batman, Zatanna, and Shadowcrest looked at Catwoman with disapproval but said nothing. The book scurried into a shelf.

Abdiel winced and tried to flex his hurt nose. "And even magi who don't care about power can be targets for those who do. You're lucky we were the only magi trying to find you."

"What exactly is magic?" asked Batman. "What causes it? How does it overcome the forces of nature?"

"What sort of forces?" asked Abdiel.

"Like gravity."

"What causes gravity?"

"The presence of mass."

"Why does that cause gravity?"

"I don't know," Batman admitted. "But gravity is constant. Whatever causes it is clearly inherent in nature. Anyone can test it."

"Well bud, I don't have a great answer, but you can't blame us. You mundanes haven't solved physics for thousands of years, and all you have to explain are magnets and falling apples. Magic's much trickier. I can only offer what I know."

"Let's hear it," said Zatanna.

"The Cehennem tradition is that everything has a mind. Trees have minds. Bugs have minds. So do the wind and the moon. And love, and hate, and dreams, and France. All fires have a mind. The abstract concept of fire might as well - I wouldn't want to check. For some reason, magi are born able to chat with these minds, the bugs and trees and France and such. It's all a matter of finding their language and learning some manners to keep 'em sweet. That's where all the training comes in."

"What do you say to a tree?" asked Zatanna.

"Anything you want."

"What language does the moon speak?"

"I don't know. But I bet it's in one of these books."

Zatanna looked around at the endless shelves.

Abdiel clucked his tongue for attention. "There's more to it. You have to learn how to make a deal. Say you call up the spirit of a beehive. You want the bees to stop stinging you. Well, it's going to want something in return."

"Like … nectar?"

"Maybe nectar. Maybe it wants a complement. Maybe it wants your firstborn son. All these little bits of the world have their own whims and ambitions. They're as smart as people in their own way, often smarter."

"What if I don't have a firstborn son?"

"Then you negotiate. Or, better yet, skedaddle. Listen, Zatanna, magic is like a big lake. Many magi live long, contented lives only dipping their toe at the shore. That's how they manage to live long, contented lives. The deeper you swim, the more power you seek, the bigger the stakes. This library might be the most valuable room in the house because experimenting with magic without instructions is bad business."

"What happens?"

"Anything. Imagine you're a lone chemist trying to reinvent gunpowder. Sounds pretty dangerous, right? Now pretend you've never seen anyone make it before. Never even seen it used. You only think it exists because you heard a rumor. Also, all your ingredients and all your lab equipment can talk, they all have agendas, and they'll do their best to manipulate you. Also, if you describe your project to nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand people, they'll think you're insane. Maybe the thousandth person is also a mage, but there's good odds they'll see you as a threat, or prey, or they're so far down the rabbit hole that they no longer appreciate ideas like death or morality. That's magic."

"Oh."

"Once I was trying to turn pumpernickel bread into sourdough. Just for fun. I accidentally met the high queen of the bread dimension. She said I amused her. She offered me the chance to give up life as I knew it and live for a thousand years in paradise - a cottage beside a tropic sea and a book of every poem ever penned and a bottomless bag of opium. I would never grow hungry or restless. She brought me to this place and reminded me of all the burdens of my life, how they all would slip away. I was so close to taking her offer. All because of bread. Would you give up your life for endless paradise?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure? Many would."

"Silence," ordered Shadowcrest. "We near the untamed shelves."

The group had noticed the bookcases growing closer together with every winding turn, casting thicker shadows on their path. Abdiel's trotting prison often scraped the shelves, an eerie noise in the vast quiet. The books here looked weathered and ominous. Some were bound in odd materials, and many covers were blank. A thin book hissed and jumped at Zatanna. She flinched, but Batman caught it by the spine and tossed it over the bookcase. Zatanna mouthed a thank you. He nodded.

Finally, when the path could turn no darker or tighter, the last bookcase ended and they squeezed into a round clearing. Suddenly, the ceiling's glow seemed bright again. There were no bookcases here. Instead, they found a row of pedestals topped with glass containers like museum exhibits. All except the last pedestal which displayed a wire mesh cage. Inside these exhibits were books and other carriers of the written word from unknown ages and species.

"Do not touch anything," said Shadowcrest firmly. "Go to the cage at the end."

Duly warned, the group crept down the row, inspecting each exhibit from afar. One book shimmered with a warmth that could be felt yards away. Another book had a cover of bubbling black slime. There was a floating stone tablet that hurt the eyes to study. They found a book that was clearly bleeding, and another that seemed two-dimensional. There was a paperback with a brawny cowboy on the cover.

Finally, they reached the wire mesh cage at the end of the row. Three metal bands around the frame were secured with dozens of locks. Inside the cage was a short shelf of leather-bound journals. To Batman and Catwoman, it seemed the most mundane exhibit of the lot. But Abdiel began to cringe and cough as he approached, and soon Zatanna felt her eyes itch.

"What's going on?" she said, trying not to panic.

Abdiel coughed again. "It'll pass. Jeez, that's strong."

"What?" asked Catwoman.

"This cage," said Abdiel, "It's got more magical protections than I've ever seen. It's like Fort Knox."

Shadowcrest circled the cage. "These are Giovanni's private journals. The contents are secret to me, but I am sure you will need them."

"Great," said Zatanna, rubbing her eyes. "Pop it open."

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Your father designed this cage to resist the most determined attempts at forced entry, magical or mundane. It must be unlocked manually."

"Fine. Where're the keys?"

"There are no keys."

"Then how does he open it?"

"He forbid me from watching. He said a true Zatara would know."

"Then he's mad," said Abdiel. "It's impossible."

They heard a series of clicks.

Catwoman, standing beside the cage, turned around. She twirled an open lock around her finger.