THE DEMON'S LEGACY

Chapter 12

The drive to Jaipur normally took between six and seven hours, depending on traffic on National Highway 11. Cars, trucks, buses, and motorbikes traversed the busy paved highway, flowing along like platelets through a black vein. They passed larger towns like Bikaner and Fatehpur, as well as dusty villages and roadside businesses, many catering to tourists who traveled between Agra and Jaipur.

Rural countryside, tawny with scrubby trees and brush, slipped past the windows of the two vehicles from the palace, keeping Henri's keen interest, his face often plastered to the windows, fingers jabbing at something near or far, questions for his father falling constantly from his lips. He crawled from Bane's lap on one side of the Land Rover to Maysam's on the other and back several times.

"Monkey, Jiddah!" He laughed and pointed at a motorcyclist with a monkey passenger.

"Yes, I see, habibi."

"I want monkey, Papa Baba."

"No pets at the palace, Jin," Bane said.

"Please."

"You heard me."

"We already have a monkey at the palace," Maysam teased.

"We do?" Henri asked.

"Yes," she said with a mischievous smile. "You, my little monkey." She smothered him with kisses, causing him to giggle and squirm to escape. Then she distracted him by pointing to some cows that grazed in the distance.

Not since leaving the palace that morning had Henri mentioned his mother. Bane was pleased that the boy was finally distracted enough to leave his grief behind. An important step.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached the League safehouse in Jaipur, which was located near the eastern edge of the city, in Shakti Colony. From this two-story affair, one of the League's men operated, but he vacated the premises once Bane's party arrived. The lower floor was rented to a family that knew the operative only as a bachelor who worked construction. The upper floor was comprised of two bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. The rear of the building faced a scraggily garden, while the front looked out upon the short, gated driveway. Neighboring homes crowded close on both sides. Shakti was overshadowed by the hills of the Aravalli range to the east, brown and unappealing to Bane's eye, reminding him of those near the palace.

"Where elephants?" Henri cried as he raced through the apartment and looked out all the windows.

Maysam chuckled. "The elephants don't live here, ya habib alby."

"Where are they?" He halted in front of her, crestfallen.

"At the fort, little cub," Bane said. "You will see them tomorrow."

"Go now."

"It is afternoon now," Bane said. "The elephant rides are only in the morning when it isn't so hot."

Abrams and the four other men in their party carried in the overnight bags.

"Come now, habibi." Maysam took Henri's hand. "Let us go to the kitchen and get everyone something to drink and a snack to tide us over until supper."

"There is a park not far from here," Bane said. "I will take Jin there to run off some of his energy after he eats. Do you wish to accompany us, Maysam?"

"No," she called from the kitchen. "I'm tired from the trip. I'll rest a bit then start supper."

"Nonsense," Bane said, having no memory of Maysam ever cooking. "We will order take-out tonight." He gestured to Abrams. "You can put my bag in that bedroom with Henri's things. Maysam will sleep in the other bedroom."

Everything, inside the house and out, fascinated Henri. He could barely sit still long enough to snack on hummus and naan bread, constantly asking questions. The four men of their security detail—two League men and two from Abrams's small detail that protected Maysam wherever she went—left the house to familiarize themselves with their surroundings and to escape the toddler's stream of consciousness.

"There are only two bedrooms," Maysam said. "Where will the men sleep?"

"This couch pulls out into a bed," Abrams said. "Two will sleep while two are on watch."

"But what about you?" she asked.

Abrams shrugged. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"You most certainly will not," Maysam said. "There are two small beds in my room. You will use one of them."

Abrams's face reddened, and he looked to Bane as if for assistance. Bane struggled not to smile, a struggle Abrams seemed to recognize, for he narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

"That wouldn't be appropriate, Maysam," Abrams began.

"This isn't about propriety," she interrupted him. "It's about comfort. I will not have you sleeping on the floor when there is an unused bed." Her eyebrows took on a playful slant. "If you are shy, Aaron, you can hang a blanket across the middle of the room."

"Your brother and brother-in-law will have my head if they find out—"

"And how will they find out unless you tell them? Your men and ours know better than to speak of anything they see or hear; they are our men, not Nashir's, remember. Please don't look so shocked, Aaron. You know me well enough to know my religion does not dictate everything I do or say. Need dictates."

"I sleep with Papa Baba," Henri announced as he licked hummus from his smeared fingers.

Bane tousled the boy's hair. "Indeed, you will."

"I can move the bed into Bane's room," Abrams said.

"Don't be silly," Maysam scolded. "There's no room for another bed in there."

Bane chuckled. "Surrender, Abrams. You know you cannot win."

Abrams snatched some bread, grumbling, "Someday I will."

###

Abrams remained at the house, as did his men, while Bane, accompanied by his League brothers, took Henri to the nearby park. Maysam dozed on the couch. Directing one of his men to remain inside with Maysam, Abrams reconnoitered the neighborhood, a good excuse not to be alone with her. Maybe she would forget about the bed situation, and he could safely sleep in a room other than hers.

Dressed like the locals, Abrams blended in as he walked around the neighborhood, his lower face partially covered by a faded red shemagh. Some of the adults he passed glanced at him, but no one stared, too involved in their own business. Boys played soccer and cricket in the streets, ignoring the middle-aged man strolling by. Music blared from an ancient radio set in a window. The Hindi voices of a man and woman rose in an argument from one house he passed. Wedded bliss, he scoffed.

The thought of relationships brought Maysam back to his mind with the same jarring shock as running into a wall. Having her in the vehicle during today's long drive had made the tedious journey bearable. She seemed pleased to be away from the palace, away from the worries that Nyssa had brought to her door. Abrams could tell she had done her best to make the day about Henri, only once mentioning the Nyssa situation with Bane during Henri's nap. Silently Abrams cursed Nyssa and again wished Bane had killed her. If Nyssa was Talia's half-sister, Abrams hated to think of the stress the revelation would cause Maysam.

He returned to the safehouse an hour later, satisfied with the lack of anything remarkable in the neighborhood. Maysam sat on the balcony off the living room, reading a book. Abrams sent his man to his post outside then went to the kitchen to putter about cleaning things instead of joining Maysam. He berated his cowardice. Here was his chance to spend some relaxing private time with her, but after the unsettling conversation about sharing her bedroom, he felt too awkward.

Maysam came inside just as Bane and Henri returned. Henri flew into her arms to tell her all about the park.

While Henri chattered away, Abrams asked Bane, "One of the locals said there's a good kabob place not far that does take out. Sound all right?"

"If it is agreeable with Maysam, then it is agreeable with me. Do not order anything too spicy for Henri, however."

Before the food arrived, Bane called Talia. He put the phone on speaker in the living room, so Talia could talk with everyone. Abrams figured Bane did this to avoid a private conversation wherein Talia might sense that Bane was withholding something from her. Ultimately Bane got in few words as Henri did most of the talking, telling her everything his little mind had retained from the long day and anticipating his adventures of tomorrow.

Later, after dinner, Henri was excited to find Toy Story on TV, and he insisted everyone watch it with him. He was asleep well before the end of it, tucked in the crook of his father's arm where they sat on the worn sofa. Without waking him, Bane carried the boy off to bed, then returned to the living room a few minutes later.

Abrams, Bane, and Maysam discussed the next day's plans and chatted for some time. Maysam was the first to succumb to fatigue, nodding off during the conversation until finally getting to her feet.

"I am going to bed, gentlemen. It's been a long day." When they wished her good night, Maysam pointed a finger at Abrams. "And if I wake up and find you sleeping anywhere but in that bed, Aaron Abrams, I will have Bane tie you to it."

Bane chuckled. "Rest assured, I will make sure he complies."

###

The room Nyssa had been confined to was similar to Ra'id Tahan's room, just down the hallway. This one, however, had no window, and its furnishings were far cruder, the television a tiny, ancient black and white thing; ah, well, she had never been much for television anyway. No doubt some servant had been ousted from here.

She exercised, meditated, and napped the day away, never seeing anyone except when her guards delivered a meager breakfast and lunch. The fact that Ra'id hadn't visited her told her that he was either pissed at her or had paid for his carelessness with his life. She figured the latter, and though she had no true feelings for Ra'id, she would regret her part in his death if he were indeed gone.

Her situation didn't frighten her; she feared only for her mother. Though she had questioned the guards about what consequences her mother may have already suffered, they gave her no information. If they harmed her mother, Nyssa vowed to make Bane and anyone else involved regret it. But if she got what she wanted out of this situation—the Demon's Head—then her mother would never again want for anything. The possibility made Nyssa smile.

She had slept little last night, bombarded by so many thoughts and plans, excited. No one in the world outside the League of Shadows and this palace knew what she knew. Bane, Talia, and that fucking snark, Barsad, had survived Gotham. Seeing Bane on television had been mesmerizing enough, but to see him in the flesh, and without the mask… She couldn't really describe her feelings. That charisma of his was almost tactile, like an electrical current emanating from him. Perhaps to his men it was like a drug—they didn't want to live without it; it enslaved them like any addiction. And though his facial surgery or surgeries had obviously been extensive and challenging, even the scars left behind couldn't diminish the man's air of invincibility, nor could it diminish his good looks. Everyone had tried to imagine what lay beneath that tarantula-like mask, and though his natural appearance had forever been lost, Nyssa had a feeling the surgeon had done a skillful job of restoring most of his attributes, like his full lips. No wonder her half-sister had given herself to Bane. What woman could resist such an Adonis? Though he was no young man himself, his physique put that of most younger men to shame.

Nyssa scoffed at herself as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She should be viewing Bane as an opponent, not as a sexual being. After all, he was a potential obstacle, a dangerous one. He could kill her or her mother at any moment. Yet Nyssa believed he would keep his word about waiting on the DNA results. After all, he could have killed her by now. She wondered if he would come down here and interrogate her further. In fact, she hoped he did; anything would be better than this smothering boredom.

She quickly sat up when she heard a key in the lock, especially coming immediately after her thoughts of Bane visiting her. But the man who appeared was not Bane. She scowled. Barsad.

"A gentleman would've knocked first," she said.

"Never claimed to be a gentleman," he said flatly as he shut the door behind him. One of the guards locked it from the outside. Barsad remained near the door, folding his arms loosely across his chest, hooded eyes raking her where she sat on the edge of the small bed. He appeared casual, vulnerable to attack, but Nyssa knew better.

"I want to know how my mother is. You'd better not have—"

"Relax. Your mother's unharmed…for now."

"She'd better stay that way."

Now a small grin unveiled a peek of blunt teeth. "Or what?"

"Or you'll pay for it, either now or later when I'm your boss. That is, if I keep you around."

Barsad chuckled coldly, and she realized she could try all day, but she'd never rattle him. Insouciantly, he leaned back against the door, braced one heel against it.

"I must say, your attitude does remind me a bit of Talia."

"If you can't see the physical resemblance, then you're blind."

Barsad pulled a face. "Might see it. But there's a lot of brunettes with dark complexions in this world."

Nyssa scoffed. "You see it. You just won't admit it."

Barsad only grinned that irritating grin, smug and completely in control.

"Is Ra'id dead?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

She swallowed hard, demanded, "What do you want?"

Barsad shrugged. "Just thought I'd check on you. See if there's anything you remembered that you might want to tell us. Change your story, maybe."

"There's nothing to change. The DNA will prove it."

"So, if you knew all this time that Rā's al Ghūl was your father, why'd you wait so long to step forward?"

"I didn't know where my father was or that he was head of the League until I saw the news story about his death. I only knew he had left me and my mother in the lurch."

"Yeah, but Rā's died a while ago now. Why didn't you step forward then? I understand you're resourceful; surely you could've gotten in touch with the League or knew someone who could."

"My husband was dead-set against it."

"Husband?" Barsad looked amused, close to laughter.

"Ex now. And now that he's out of the picture, I've been thinking more and more about what my father owes me and my mother. All those years he spent with Talia instead of me. Obviously, he never told her about me. Of course not. Arrogant bastard. Didn't want his daughter to know he had consorted with a poor villager in the middle of nowhere Rajasthan."

Barsad's grin vanished. "If you have dreams of being the Demon's Head, referring to Rā's al Ghūl as an arrogant bastard won't endear you to the brethren."

"I won't deify a man who broke my mother's heart and abandoned her and his child."

"Maybe he had reasons he couldn't tell you."

"Spoken like a true man. Perhaps the League needs some women in its ranks. Enlighten it a bit."

Barsad's anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. He chuckled at her statement. "As a divorcee, I'd think you would know better than to mix the two."

"I have a lot of ideas for the League."

"What do you care about the League other than as a means for revenge against a dead man? You know, Talia once felt similarly to how you feel about him."

"I doubt that. She said herself in Gotham that she was completing our father's work."

"No surprise you don't know everything. But I'll let her tell you the family tale, if she chooses to, and if you remain alive through this."

"For your information, my interest in the League isn't simply revenge. I'm in a similar line of work."

Barsad scoffed. "Hardly. Shows how much you know about the League."

"I said similar, not the same."

Barsad shook his head. "So delusional. It's almost funny."

Nyssa narrowed her eyes, had a feeling he was enjoying this game of back and forth. "Why are you in the League? I heard you had a nice cushy job right here in the palace years ago, working for that asshole Siddig El Fadil."

His sleepy poker face gave her no clue as to the validity of her speculation. "I'm in the League because I believe in their work, and I believe in their leader."

"Have you fucked her?"

That lazy grin. "Like I said—delusional."

"Maybe you're in love with her, and that's why you're here. She must be quite charismatic to lead the League. And we both know she's beautiful; maybe not as beautiful as her sister, but…"

"Like I said, you don't know anything."

"Well, I doubt that's your reason for being in the League anyway. After all, Bane and Talia had a child together. No way Bane would let someone who's in love with his woman hang around. He strikes me as the definitive alpha male who expects his woman to be monogamous. He'd rip any challengers apart. How'd those two meet anyway? I have my theories. I heard he grew up in prison, and I know for a fact Melisande took my father's place in some hellhole jail after Siddig heard about her marriage. Was it the same one? She must have given birth to Talia there since I know she died there. My mother told me all about Maysam mourning her, and no one had seen Melisande after she had been banished, so she must have died in prison. What a prick Siddig was. His own daughter. Though I have to say, considering how she took my father from my mother, I never felt any overwhelming pity for Melisande, just for her mother."

"Like I said, I'll let Talia tell the story, if you're allowed to meet her. You'll get nothing from me."

Nyssa considered him and his non-reaction to her comment about him fucking Talia. She could read people well, and what she saw was a man interested in neither Talia nor her, an unusual response when it came to herself, and no doubt Talia, too. That meant he was one of two types of men—a homo, or a hetero with a lover. Judging from what she had heard of him during the Gotham siege, it wasn't the former.

"If you won't tell me about my sister," Nyssa said with a baiting smile, "then tell me about yourself. I'm bored." She crossed her legs and bounced one bare foot to draw his attention to her exposed flesh. "Do you keep your woman here at the palace, too? I'm assuming so. Probably why you're so eager to kill me. Another secret taken to the grave."

An ever-so-faint flash in Barsad's eyes told her that she had hit close to home. Surprise, anger, then back to the vacuous, heavy-lidded blue wall.

"It's a good place to hide, here in the middle of nowhere, behind the walls of a warlord, someone with a shared criminality. Each with leverage against the other to ensure compliance. Your woman feels safe here, and you feel she is safe."

Barsad sighed melodramatically and shook his head. "You really are gifted at fiction, darlin'. But, if you have nothing of interest to say to me, it's time I go back to work. I have guns to clean and rounds to load."

"Is she local, Barsad?" Nyssa asked as he rapped on the door to signal the guards. "Sampling local fare like my father did, maybe?" The door opened, Barsad's back already turned. "Well, if she is, I hope you won't dump her like my father dumped my mother when the next piece comes along, swinging long hair and waving money under your nose."

Barsad stepped out of the room without looking back, and Nyssa laughed tauntingly as the door shut behind him.