Beginnings

"Why are you still up, Sybil?" I glanced away from the books I'd spread across my coffee table to my sister's tired face. If Erin looked haggard, I could only guess how bad the shadows under my eyes were. After the Joker had crashed Wayne's party, she hadn't wanted to go back to our family's mansion. Instead she came home with me to my very average apartment. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, the basics. Once I was sure Erin was tucked in my bed and dead to the world, I'd raided my books for some clue about what had happened to me.

I mentioned that I was a bookworm but I hadn't really described the depths of my obsession. I have bookshelves decorating my walls, not paintings. I can't even remember what color my walls are. Admittedly not all of the shelves are full but that probably won't be true for long. I have a serious problem. If I walk into a bookstore, I walk out of it with books. My only excuse is that I write reviews for them. I don't need the money but I want the job. It provides me with some sense of purpose besides looking out for Erin. Besides, you might as well make your obsession something you can be paid for doing.

"I'm reading," I replied. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Nightmares." I didn't ask about the details. I was pretty sure I already knew it involved clowns. She'd talk if she wanted to talk. Clearly Erin had no desire to share since she immediately changed the subject. "What are you reading about?"

"Anything that might help me figure out why being in the same building as the Joker screwed with my head." I flipped the book detailing the complexities of psychic sensitivities combined with past lives shut and rested my head in my hands. "I have a list of possibilities but no solid answer." Erin picked up the book I'd closed and sat down on the couch next to me.

"What's the most likely solution?" I leaned back against the cushions and closed my eyes.

"The thing that makes the most sense to me in my current exhausted, shell-shocked state is that we knew each other before this life and we had a pretty powerful connection. So take a strong sense of déjà vu, add a mostly untrained psychic gift and you've got yourself a very shaken Sybil." Erin laughed weakly at my bad joke.

"Past lives. That's so bizarre."

"It's just my luck, too. I might have a soul mate and he's a sociopath," I mumbled, taking off my reading glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose. There was a serious headache brewing up in my skull. I'd spent too much time staring at small print. "We need sleep."

"I'd rather not," she murmured, looking away from me. I took the book out of her hands and set it on the table. Erin looked younger than usual now that she was curled up on my couch, wearing one of my oversized shirts that were best for sleeping. In my eyes it was if her five year old self was sitting beside me.

"Come over here," I told her, putting a pillow on my lap as I did so.

"Sybil, I'm not a baby anymore. I don't need you to sing to me when I have a bad dream," she pointed out. Of course, I'd been reading my sister since before she could form sentences. I knew she was afraid.

"Adults like to be comforted, too, Erin," I reminded her reasonably. She still had a stubborn look on her face so I put my glasses back on and glared at her over the rims. It was my scary librarian stare and it worked every time.

"Okay, you win! Jeez, I wish you'd get some stylish glasses instead of those pointed black ones," she muttered as she put her head on my lap.

"They appeal to my twisted sense of humor," I replied, tugging the quilt I had draped over the back of the couch over my sister's body.

"I'll listen to one song but then I'm toughing it out on my own."

"Then I'd better make it good." Thankfully I already knew just the one that would send her into sweet oblivion. I cleared my throat. Honestly, it had been years since I'd sung Erin to sleep. Aside from belting out the lyrics to various Abba songs in my shower, I hadn't done any singing since I was a teenager. For all I knew I'd lost the ability to make Erin sleep. "There's something about a man in black, makes me want to buy a Cadillac, throw the top back and roll down to Jackson town."

"Oh, that's cheating," she accused. I was exploiting her weakness for sappy country songs but I felt no shame.

"I want a love like Johnny and June, rings of fire burning with you. I want to walk the line, walk the line 'til the end of time." I had past lives on the brain so that's probably what led me to a closer examination of my voice. It was soft and low. Well, it was soft and low because my voice tended to crack if I pushed. Either way, I could have been one of those sexy singers in a slinky dress embracing the microphone with a mesmerizing, smoky voice.

Maybe that's how I met the Joker the first time.

The thought shook me awake and I realized I'd dozed off shortly after I'd finished singing. I groaned softly. My neck was going to have a kink in it if I'd been asleep too long. Erin's hair was beneath my left hand so I used my right to take my glasses off without waking her up.

"Well, look at that. Sleeping beauty's awake." With my glasses on he was just a blur of dark purple and white paint. Now that they were off I could make sense of what I was seeing. And I prepared to scream. He must have expected that reaction since the Joker slid his hand over my mouth. "Shh shh shh. You don't want to wake up the princess of Gotham, do you?" My stomach clenched as his gaze fell to Erin. "We're going to play a little game. If little sister is a sound sleeper, she'll get to wake up in the morning. If she isn't…" He held a knife up to my face and grinned. "Ready to play?"