THE DEMON'S LEGACY
Chapter 15
Bane's words made no sense to Talia. A half-sister? That was impossible. Her mother had only one child, and if her father had begotten one with another woman, he would have told her. Wouldn't he? True, her father had had many secrets—his position as the Demon's Head demanded it—but something as personal as another child, Talia's sibling, surely he would have shared that information with her. When she was young, she had often told him how she wished she had a sibling to play and spar with, to share with. Yes, he would have told her about this Nyssa person; he had loved her and often expressed regret that she had no brother or sister. There was only one explanation, then—if Nyssa was her half-sister, then their father must not have known of her existence.
"Talia." Bane's gentle voice drew her out of her shocked silence, his hand touching her cold cheek.
"How…how do you know she's telling the truth?"
"A DNA test."
Of course Bane would be thorough and certain before revealing all of this.
Slight anger, misplaced, tainted her inquiry. "When did this happen? Why am I just now hearing about it?"
"We apprehended her the first night you were gone. I didn't want to say anything until I knew for certain she was who she claimed to be. I wanted you to enjoy your time away. If she had proven herself false, I would have immediately eliminated her. Barsad, Maysam, and Sanjana all think I still should. But I told them that decision should be yours and yours alone. You have the right to know the truth."
She stared at her hands folded in her lap, feeling numb and gutted. "What has she told you?"
"That your father impregnated Diya Panjabi before he married your mother."
Talia's heart went cold. "You mean he betrayed my mother?"
"No, I would never say that. We both know how much he loved your mother. Nyssa simply said that when your father worked for Siddig, he would come to the village like the other men to seek female companionship, but once he had fallen under your mother's spell, he never slept with Diya Panjabi again."
"Has she known who her father was all these years?"
"She knew him only as Henri Ducard, a mercenary, until she saw his picture on the news following his death. She recognized him from a picture in their home, and when she confronted her mother about it, Diya told her the truth."
"So when she saw Henri and his family resemblance, she was trying to connect with me? Obviously, she didn't believe I died in Gotham."
"I'm afraid there is more to her motivations than that. As your elder, she has laid claim to the Demon's Head."
Talia almost laughed. "She can't be serious."
"It would appear she is. After all, she risked her very life to make her claim. And you and I know the League's steadfast beliefs about blood succession. I am in my position only by your desire and our brothers' consent, but the claim by an elder child of Rā's al Ghūl will supersede any of your decrees."
"She is no one. She has no training, no loyalty to my father's organization. Why would she claim to? No doubt she bears him a grudge, as I once did; he never acknowledged her. How do we know she doesn't want to destroy the League?"
Bane's eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. "You and I know no one can destroy our ancient organization. It has survived far more than an ambitious mercenary. Besides, I think there is more to Nyssa than revenge or ambition. I sensed many things while interrogating her, and you know I am never wrong in my intuitive deductions, habibati."
Talia stared. "You aren't alarmed by her claims?"
"I was at first, but I have had time to reflect and research. Understand, my love, I am not condoning a takeover. However, I am a servant of the League, as are you, though no longer in an official capacity; something Nyssa knows nothing about, by the way. She stills believes you are the Demon's Head. And as a servant of the League, I have taken an oath to abide by its rules and traditions, as have you. So we are in a delicate spot. We must take our emotions out of the equation, as hard as that may be, especially for you, considering what you have just learned."
Talia slipped away from the couch, paced across the room, arms wrapped about her chilled form. She adjusted the thermostat to lessen the air conditioning. Bane said nothing more, the room's only sound being that of Henri's faint conversation with Maysam.
Her son's safety in this situation with Nyssa was first and foremost, taking precedence over the ramifications to the League. Talia's motherly instinct told her to kill Nyssa to keep her from potentially letting the world know of Henri's existence, a world that would manipulate and harm the boy to get to his mother and father. But her years of training and leadership stayed her hand for now. She needed to honor her oath to the League. After all, stepping down had been her decision, one that her brethren had tried to discourage. She may not officially lead them any longer, but she was still an integral part of the League's fabric, the heir to the Demon and his revered legacy, and she needed to discuss this situation with the leadership before making a decision. But first, she required more information.
She turned back to Bane. "Take me to her."
###
Nyssa's patience had reached an end a long time ago. When her guards brought breakfast that morning, she had angrily demanded once again to see Bane. The men looked at her stonily and said nothing, shutting the door in her face. She shouted for them to send for Barsad, but that demand was ignored as well. Maybe Bane and Barsad weren't even in the palace anymore. Had they perhaps fled? No, if they were afraid of what she knew, they would've just killed her, Talia or no Talia. Maybe they were gone on League business. Either way, it pissed her off that she was left to rot in this room with no news about her own fate or the fate of her mother. How long was this going to go on?
She spent an hour and a half exercising to burn off some frustration, stripped to her underwear, working hard. Just as she finished wiping herself down with the towel she had used for her morning shower—the bastards at least let her stay clean—she heard new voices in the corridor. She stopped breathing. Was that a woman's voice? Sounded like it. And not Maysam; her voice was deeper.
Nyssa hurriedly dressed and sat on her bed as the voices drew closer. Definitely a woman. And a man's voice—distinctly Bane's. Her muscles locked up, but she breathed deeply and forced them to relax. Suddenly the air around her seemed charged with electricity, as if it followed Bane everywhere. She remembered it well when he had interrogated her. Seemed ages ago.
A key in the lock, then the door opened. The first face she saw was Barsad's scowling countenance, dark with heavy stubble, eyes as cold as a Siberian winter. He entered, pistol in hand. Was this to be her execution?
"Get up," he ordered, coming to stand in front of her, out of reach.
Nyssa glanced at the doorway, saw only a guard standing there, watching. Slowly she got to her feet, eying Barsad. "What is this?"
The scuff of a shoe, movement in the doorway. The guard had stepped back, giving way to Bane's massive bulk, which filled the threshold, his scarred expression set, alert, protective. He paused there before stepping inside, just to the right, revealing a small woman who had been behind him.
Talia.
Somehow Nyssa managed not to physically react in any way to the sight of her fashionably-dressed half-sister. She merely turned to face Talia, and the two of them considered each other with matched stoicism. Was Talia moved at all by the reality of meeting her only sibling, as Nyssa was, though she hated to admit it? Had Talia lain awake at night, like she had on occasion, wondering what life would have been like with a sibling?
"Bane told me there is a resemblance," Talia said at last. "I admit I see it."
"So, sister, have you come for a simple chat before Barsad here executes me, or have you come to acknowledge my claim?"
Bane drew a wooden chair from the corner nearest him and offered it to Talia as the guard closed the door.
"Please, sit," Talia said to Nyssa, gesturing to the bed as she settled upon the chair.
Cool as a cucumber, Nyssa observed of her sister. Was there any scrap of a heart in there? No sign of it yet.
The only images she had seen of Talia were those of her Gotham alter ego, Miranda Tate, and it amazed her how the woman standing before her now seemed like a totally different person. A modern Mata Hari. Miranda Tate's pictures showed some warmth in her red-lipped smile as she posed with flawless make-up and perfect hairdo. Talia lacked the china-doll cosmetics, and her hair was shorter than Miranda's. The most noteworthy difference between Nyssa and her sister were Talia's eyes. Blue like their father's. An odd twinge of jealousy in Nyssa for that shared trait. And cold like their father's eyes as well. Calculating. A hundred things going on in Talia's head, hidden behind that iron curtain of sapphire.
"Bane has told me of your claim," Talia said, her voice exotic and measured, a hint of French, was it? Probably had gotten that from the snooty private school their father had sent her to in Switzerland, according to what she heard after Gotham's siege. He certainly hadn't been concerned about his first daughter's education. Had he even known the life she had led, how she had followed in his footsteps as a mercenary?
"Claim?" Nyssa echoed. "I'm our father's eldest daughter; that makes it a right, not a claim. You must have the DNA results by now."
"You have no idea what it means to be the Demon's Head. You are like a child who sees a shiny toy in a store and wants it because it's shiny, even though you don't know how to use it."
Nyssa grinned. "And did you come out of the womb knowing how to be the Demon's Head?"
"I had years of indoctrination, training, living among my highly-skilled brothers before I assumed command."
"Living with our father." Nyssa's grin turned to a sneer. "Living the life I should have had, but he discarded me like garbage."
"If you hate our father so, why do you want to follow in his footsteps?"
There it was—our father! Nyssa wanted to smirk in vindication.
"Or is it because of that hate? Some sort of revenge, is it, Nyssa? To lead his organization as a way to prove a point? To take what he denied you? The League's ideals are lofty, and so its commander's ideals must be also. Your reasons are self-serving."
"You don't know anything about my reasons or ideals."
Talia raised one eyebrow and clasped her hands in her lap like an attentive student. "Perhaps, then, you will enlighten me."
Nyssa waited, glanced around the small space. "I'd think you'd provide better accommodations for your sister. Maybe if I was in more comfortable surroundings, I'd be more forthcoming. And I want to speak to my mother." She shot Barsad a black glance. "No doubt you've scared the shit out of her, especially keeping me here this long. She's not well, you know."
"Your mother's fine," Barsad growled. "And healthy. You can thank us for the medication she's been taking."
So that was why Dr. Misra suddenly had the antibiotic he had been lacking when her mother had first been ill. Shit. But, of course, they had wanted her healthy, so her daughter had no reason to remain in the village.
"A room is being prepared for you upstairs," Talia said, "just down the hallway from mine, in fact. Your mother will be allowed to join you. You will both, however, remain under guard."
"You think I'm going to call the Washington Post or something?" Nyssa laughed harshly. "If I wanted to expose you, don't you think I would have called someone before you ever caught me snooping around?"
"Who says you haven't?"
"Because, if I had, do you really think my mother would still be here? I wouldn't be stupid enough to keep her within your reach if I was going to rat you out, sister."
"Half-sister." Talia smirked.
"Not the best half. Tell me about your mother."
Now it was Bane's turn to growl. "You will watch your tongue when speaking of Talia's parents, or you will lose the privileges she has offered you."
"Melisande must have died in prison, yeah?"
Bane's fists clenched, and Talia made a barely perceptible movement with her hand to keep him at bay. Interesting reaction, Nyssa thought. The big grizzly bear cared about Melisande. Hmm, how much and in what way? Maybe his relationship with Melisande and not just his ties to Talia explained why the El Fadils allowed him to live here.
"My mother," Talia answered, "is of no concern to you."
"She sacrificed herself for my father's sake, so I am interested in her. Obviously, she was a brave, selfless woman, like my mother. Something else we have in common."
Talia gave her an indulgent smile. "So you seem to have some knowledge of my past life. Rest assured, I know about yours as well. Since learning of your visit to your mother, my brothers have been gathering intel on you."
"What's to know? My father abandoned me. I've been a mercenary since I left here years ago. I've been married and divorced. I could have told you all that myself, saved you some time and resources."
"They have told me more than that. It seems you are well-known and well-respected in the merc world, if not well-liked. Your skills may now save your life."
"How's that? You planning on a fight to the death, little sister? Winner takes all?" Nyssa glanced slyly at Bane and licked her lips. "And I do mean all."
A hint of anger darkened Talia's eyes. Nyssa almost laughed. Was she really in love with Bane? Her sister didn't strike Nyssa as someone capable of romantic love.
"You wouldn't stand a chance," Barsad said to Nyssa.
Talia gave Barsad an appreciative but staying look. "I am referring to your skills helping you to survive the League's training. It is more grueling than anything you've done in your life."
"So you're not going to oppose my claim?"
"I must uphold the League's traditions and beliefs. And the League believes in blood succession. You are Rā's al Ghūl's eldest daughter. If you can pass the training and initiation, you are the rightful heir to the Demon's Head. I won't lie and say that pleases me, and I certainly will not champion your cause. I don't know you, and so I don't trust you, and I don't believe your motivations are pure, as mine were on the day I accepted the mantle. While I loved our father, you hate him. That hate could drive you to destroy what he built."
Hurried footsteps sounded in the hall. An alarmed, muffled voice beyond the door distracted Talia. Someone knocked.
Bane cracked the door open. "What is it?"
Nyssa caught the glimpse of an older man, an Indian. "Pardon the intrusion, sir, but Mr. Barsad's presence is requested upstairs. It's urgent, sir, very urgent."
Immediate concern on the faces in the room, personal concern, not business. All menace left Barsad, and he looked to Talia.
"Go, brother," Talia said.
Without hesitation, Barsad left the room. Talia stood, her veneer of coolness already restored.
"My men will escort you to your room when it is ready," Talia said. "We will speak again soon."
"I want to see my mother."
"It will be arranged." Talia glanced at Bane, some of the apprehension creeping back, then she glided from the room. Bane tossed Nyssa one last, malevolent look then followed Talia.
###
Hisham was already meters ahead of Barsad, moving quickly toward the elevator near the kitchen. Barsad ran to catch up.
"Is it Sanjana?"
"Yes, sir. She is experiencing some contractions."
"Damn it, it's too early."
"They came on suddenly. Madam is with her. They sent for you. Sanjana is in some distress."
Barsad cursed again. This was all that fucking Nyssa's fault. The stress she had caused Sanjana was sure as hell the cause of her early labor. If something happened to his kid or Sanjana because of her, he'd kill her, no matter what Talia or Bane said.
"Do you think she'll need a doctor, sir?"
"I'll send for the League doc. He hadn't planned on coming until closer to Sanjana's due date. Damn it!" Stepping inside the waiting elevator, he jabbed the button for his floor.
"But can he get here quickly, sir? Hopefully Sanjana will be fine, but… I'm sorry, sir. I should not be talking this way. Forgive me; I am just concerned for the girl."
"I appreciate that, Hisham. We'll do whatever's necessary. We have to stay positive for Sanjana's sake, all right?"
"Yes, sir."
As soon as the elevator door opened on his floor, Barsad raced down the hallway, leaving Hisham in his wake. He burst into his room to find Sanjana in bed, Maysam bent over her, placing a damp cloth to her forehead. Both women turned to him with immense relief lightening their expressions.
"John," they both said at once.
Without removing his shoes, Barsad sat beside Sanjana on the bed, taking her hand.
"It's the baby, John," Sanjana said in a panic. "He's coming too soon. It's too soon. He can't come now. What do we do?"
"Try to stay calm, sweetheart. Tell me what's going on."
"You know how restless I was last night, but I just thought it was the normal discomfort. I didn't say anything to you this morning, but I've felt worse and worse. But it's too early; it's too early, John."
"Easy now. Just breathe. It's not all that early. You're due in less than three weeks."
"But three weeks…! The doctor isn't even here yet."
"I'm going to call him right away, but when I spoke to him a couple of days ago, he was in Beijing. It'll take him a while to get here."
A contraction widened Sanjana's eyes, and she clutched her belly, gasping.
"It's all right, baby." Barsad stroked her sweaty hair. "Breathe. Just breathe. It'll pass."
Once the contraction died away, Sanjana lay back, tightly holding his hand.
"John," Maysam said, "I can send for Dr. Misra. But it goes without saying that you can't be seen here."
Barsad exchanged an alarmed glance with Sanjana. "I wanna be here when she delivers. I promised her I would be."
"I understand," Maysam said with forced calm, "but that might not be an option, depending on what he finds. The important thing is that we first make sure this is just an early birth, that there's no danger. Perhaps it's false labor."
"She's right, John," Sanjana said, already looking tired. She squeezed his hand. "I want you to be here, too, but we have to make sure the baby is okay."
"I'll be here with her," Maysam assured.
"And Talia," Sanjana added. "She told me she would be, but now that she knows her sister is here—"
"Fuck her sister," Barsad spat then caught himself. "I'm sorry, ladies. Don't worry, Sanji, Talia will be here for you, I'm sure."
He waffled with this new option. Misra was the El Fadils's physician, so Barsad knew the man had to be at least halfway competent…and discreet.
Sanjana drew him closer, whispered desperately, "Please, bunny. I'm afraid."
He kissed her. "There's nothing to be afraid of, darlin'. You're going to get through this just fine. Maysam will call Dr. Misra, and I'll call the League doc right now. Hisham," he called to the servant who had been standing just inside the door, "stay with Sanjana while we make our calls. And I need to talk to Bane and Talia, too, then I'll be back, Sanji. Don't worry; everything will be fine, you'll see."