Chapter 13 – Forbidden Books

Wayne Manor

Zatanna slowly emerged into wakefulness in the enormous antique bed that occupied a good portion of her appointed bedroom in Wayne Manor. The bed was a relic of 18th-century England and had (according to Alfred) once occupied the boudoir of the Lady Hamilton, Lord Horatio Nelson's mistress (his sharing that little historical factoid didn't escape her notice).

That impressive pedigree didn't necessarily make it easier to sleep in. She had had some weird dreams in it a couple of times - dreams which were not quite nightmares but not exactly soothing either, no sno-cones or unicorns showing up for sure. In the dreams, she was standing in a wide and open space, a desert or an arid and blasted landscape; she was clad head-to-toe in veils staring at the distant horizon. Other times she was in a vast and desolate building like a castle or fortress searching for...something. Either time she'd felt a sensation of dread, and an even worse feeling of a grief so profound she could barely breathe. Yet she always awoke before she could discern what was the cause, the sensations fading quickly.

Although mercifully short, the dreams were vivid, the emotions they aroused powerful, more powerful than she'd ever experienced in a dream before, and that troubled her. So much so that she'd even considered consulting Fuselli about them, but that nightmare imp had made himself scarce, at a time when he could actually have been helpful. So she'd brushed the whole thing off for now - perhaps it was just living in this spacious yet somehow empty Manor. Maybe she would feel better once she returned to her familiar Shadowcrest, but she had yet to make any plans to move out. Procrastination, she guessed.

Or, it could be she really liked being here.

Zatanna rolled over and found herself pressed against something hard, and warm - Bruce lying with his back to her. She saw the soft rising and falling of his broad shoulders as he slumbered. The real reason she hadn't left, she considered.

Nevertheless, she was surprised to see him there, at least this early in the morning. Every time she had awoken, he was either already up or gone altogether. He'd never stayed with her throughout the night, it seemed. He was ready enough to fuck her in bed, but seemed not to like actually sleeping with her there, she thought with some chagrin. When she mentioned that, he'd only shrugged like it was no big deal, and said, "You know I have bad dreams, I don't want to disturb you." As if that was normal.

However, he was here now, and it wasn't unwelcome; she pressed her naked body against his, relishing the feel of him and basking in the sleepy sensation of comfort and warmth and nothing to do but enjoy it. He smelled faintly of the body wash that he used (some "manly" brand no doubt) and his own particular scent, like that of aged oak, which she found particularly intoxicating. She liked the feel of him, strong and powerful.

Idly, she traced the faint lines of old scars on his back with her fingers. He had so many of them, all over his body she knew now, mementos of old fights. She'd once offered her skills to remove them but he'd refused outright – he treated them like they were medals, or something, as reminders of his "great purpose," she supposed, but they made her shiver.

In these rare moments of peacefulness, Zatanna wondered if there would ever be a time when Bruce would consider giving up the Batman. She wondered if anyone had even suggested it, but not even she had the balls to ask him that…not yet anyway. She realized that it might just be an intractable part of him, just as magick was for her.

But, she thought, it wasn't exactly the same was it? Eventually there would come a day when the Batman would cease – either due to Bruce's physical infirmities, or a bullet or a knife, or worse, would get pass his defenses. At the end of the day, the curtain was bound to fall and if she was still part of the cast, where would that leave her?

She was disturbed by such thoughts of mortality intruding on her serene moment. Perhaps the feelings evoked by her dreams still upset her. Unconsciously, she embraced Bruce tighter, willing them away.

"Zatanna?" Bruce said suddenly. His voice was thick with sleep, but still held alertness, and under that, trepidation. She wondered about that last – had he had a bad dream too?

She replied softly. "Who else? I didn't mean to wake you."

"No…I should be getting up anyway."

He rolled onto his back, his dark hair mussed and in his eyes. She saw the thick shadow on his jawline, his beard came in dark and heavy. She pushed him back down.

"Wait," Zatanna protested. "It's five o'clock in the morning! Where do you have to be at this time? No, don't answer that, just…don't leave right away."

Zatanna lay close to him, her arm and head against his chest, her leg draped over his possessively. She felt him tense, and she thought for a moment he would get up anyway, but then he didn't. He relaxed but only a little bit. He never really did, Zatanna thought, not even with her. Not even when he was inside her. It was if a part of him of was totally untouched by the gentle emotions, was pure cold and unthinking reaction. That was where the Bat lived, and it hid there when they shared their moments of intimacy. But it couldn't hide from her.

She'd learned long before – when she was with John Constantine - that it was impossible to change men, and trying to do so would just lead to heartbreak. Even if they were going right off the proverbial cliff, it was a lost cause. Yet the human heart was perverse and wouldn't stop trying. She knew that also.

"Why do you never stay with me?" Zatanna whispered.

"What?"

"You're here now but usually you're not. You're always up and running off somewhere before I wake up."

"Oh," Bruce's voice was noncommittal. "Just guess I'm too busy."

"Or do you think it's just too normal? To wake up next to a woman?"

Bruce rolled onto his side facing her. His hand touched the side of her face, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he thought she was joking. "I thought you weren't into 'normal'?"

"I'm into being happy," Zatanna corrected. She took his hand, brought it to rest between her breasts, where he could feel her heartbeat. "Doesn't this make you happy?"

"It does," Bruce agreed. But he didn't say it right away…and looked like he had to think about his answer.

Sighing, Zatanna rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

"Did I say something wrong? What did I do?"

An unwanted memory came to Zatanna, of a similar situation with John. She remembered John's voice saying those words, or something similar, only his voice was whiny and annoyed, and inevitably followed by a mutter that he was going out to "pick up some fags" and would return when she'd "calmed down a bit" even though she'd never even raised her voice to him. Bruce's voice was much different. Confused, even anxious, in a tone she was certain none of his Justice League colleagues had ever heard. Like…like a lost child, almost.

A face swam up before her, one from years ago, from the orphanage charity show. A child's face, and yet not. She banished it.

"No, it's not that," Zatanna insisted. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just we had more time together. It's me," she added hastily. "I was so busy with the gig."

"Oh. That's…all right. Nobody's at fault. We have plenty of time now."

Bruce's arms came around her pulling her against him, and for a long moment neither of them moved, or said anything. It was quiet in the room. She wanted to believe him. When he spoke again, it was against her neck, just below her ear.

"I guess you can tell, this-this isn't the usual for me. I don't do 'normal' either, as you know. But I can try."

Zatanna chuckled softly. "I can tell you tried. This whole month, acting like my 'rich boyfriend.'"

"Do you think I overdid it? I really don't often get a chance to give things." He held her tighter and Zatanna felt an electric shiver run through her body, a delightful sensation.

"You played your part very well, you had everyone convinced. I guess I helped in the act. Everyone thinks you've made me your mistress."

Bruce thoughtfully caressed Zatanna's shoulder. "I know, I've read the papers. I have news for you - I wasn't acting."

Zatanna looked over her shoulder, with her best seductive look. "You mean, you actually are my rich boyfriend?"

"Um…yes, if that's what you want, Zee."

Zatanna could have laughed out loud. Maybe it was because it was the look on his face. He really was almost like a child, it was very endearing. It occurred to her, not so comically though, that maybe she was his first...oh, not his first woman, certainly, but someone he could actually treat like a real girlfriend. She didn't imagine he had had much of a dating life when he was a teenager. That would explain his going overboard with the extravagant presents and the attention. He had given her lots of jewelry, gold. She supposed he thought it was just the thing to do.

"Good! Then don't stop! But really, Bruce, I want to make you happy. That's all I want. Don't you think that's possible?"

"I can be happy," Bruce protested. "I mean, I am happy, with you, whenever I'm with you."

"Do you really mean that?" Zatanna whispered.

Bruce frowned, a slightly petulant look on his face. "I can tell you think like everyone else, that I'm some grim golem lurking about in the cave."

Now Zatanna did laugh delightedly, and she turned back around so she was facing him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"No! I don't think that!"

"Yes, you do, I can tell."

"No! No I don't, don't sulk," Zatanna rested her fingers against his lips. "I'm not like all the rest, and I don't care what anyone thinks about us. You're here with me and that's all that matters."

Zatanna felt Bruce's hands stroke down her side; she felt his hand, which could snap a criminal's wrist with one twist, began massaging her between her legs. She gasped, but Bruce's face didn't change, and he continued to stare intensely in her eyes as if trying to suss out her sincerity. She thought of something else she could do to prove it to him.

She grabbed his wrist, and flung his hand away from her moistening cleft; although she liked it, she wanted something else. Before Bruce could react she'd pushed him onto his back and mounted him, pressing his half-hard shaft between her wetted labia.

Bruce was taken by surprise, although he knew that she was a performer, she was quite strong for her size. Being on his back wasn't his favorite position, and she knew that, but she was looking down at him with an interesting expression on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to show you something," Zatanna whispered, tossing her hair back. She raised her hands to just below her breasts and did something with them, then they seemed to glow with an ethereal light.

"Zee, I don't-"

"Shh. Don't say anything. Just lie back and enjoy the show."

For once, Bruce Wayne did as he was told, and found it most...agreeable.

Alfred had gone to Master Bruce's room with his early-morning tray and newspaper, but when he saw that he wasn't there, instinctively knew where he was. He'd made the trip to Zatanna's room but after hearing the sounds coming from behind Zatanna's door (and there seemed to be some kind of accompanying light show, judging from the glow beneath the doorjamb) he thought it best to return to the kitchen for the present. He made himself a fresh pot of tea and sat down, thinking.

When Master Bruce had first told him Zatanna would be moving in, he'd been taken aback. and not just because those rooms needed significant renovations. Yes, he'd met the young magician lady before, and she seemed fairly pleasant and mild-mannered, as compared to the tempestuous and moody Selina Kyle. However, in his opinion Master Bruce did not necessarily possess the best judgment when it came to his paramours, the afore mentioned Miss Kyle being just one example. Despite her rather risqué physical appearance and personality, Master Bruce's attraction to Zatanna fairly mystified the butler. Their personalities seemed very different and wondered if this relationship would be as tenuous as his past ones. Part of Alfred sincerely hoped that it would not be - it was past time Bruce had a serious, meaningful relationship, his playboy-image notwithstanding. Thomas Wayne had been married at his age. Alfred disliked the thought that Bruce was alone and may always be so due to his unique work. Still, Alfred had hoped for a 'normal' relationship for him, preferably a scion of another established American family, or a young lady perhaps employed also in business or academia, not a metahuman who would be just as obsessed as Bruce and at risk of great harm herself.

But Alfred had another reason for his concern about Zatanna.

He'd previously heard Master Bruce express an intense skepticism and dislike for the occult and magic, given some of the crimes he had witnessed in Gotham. Recently however, he'd seemed to have changed his mind, delving into it as much as he could, acquiring rare and expensive books on the subject. Alfred could understand Master Bruce going to Zatanna as an expert on the subject, but his subsequent attraction to her had surprised him. Then, this development.

Discreetly, Alfred had conducted his own background check of Miss Zatara. He'd found nothing, he suspected, that Master Bruce didn't know already, but he did educate himself quite a deal. And, it had sparked his memory of when he had actually seen Zatara the magician perform. He remembered the orphanage charity show of many years ago. It was on a day that was warm and sunny, a rarity in Gotham. It was too pleasant to stay indoors so he had made Master Bruce go, although the boy had wanted to do nothing except stay in his darkened room, as he had almost every day since the...the tragedy. During the car trip into the city, and during the show itself, he had not said one word. He'd watched as the staff made him sit up front. The other kids cheered and laughed during the wonderful performance, but Master Bruce was unmoved.

Alfred had despaired then of his ward ever retrieving some semblance of normality. He'd gone to fetch the car, but when he'd returned, he was stunned to see the famous magician talking one-on-one to Bruce, and further amazed when he saw Bruce replying. He hadn't interrupted, not wanting to disturb the moment. Then, it seemed to be over in a minute, and he'd returned to the car, clutching a pair of prop handcuffs given to him by Zatara.

Although Master Bruce continued to be introverted and quiet he'd been engrossed with mastering escapes, which had never really left him. Alfred had been greatly impressed. He wanted to meet the man and personally thank him for talking to Master Bruce, but he couldn't find him afterwards. It seemed he had left Gotham City immediately after the show. Alfred hoped that the man would return someday for further performances, but he never had.

Had Zatanna been there?

Alfred recalled that Mr. Zatara's daughter often performed with him. On a hunch, Alfred had delved into several local news archives. He'd found a short article on Zatara's visit to Gotham, heralding his charity gig. There was a small black and white publicity photo of him, standing with the orphanage director. His daughter was in the photo, a charming young girl, but Alfred didn't remember her. But she had clearly been in Gotham City on that occasion.

Alfred did not believe in coincidences. Prior to the Justice League, he would also have said he did not believe in aliens or the supernatural either, and certainly stranger things had happened. Ever since, he thought, since Zatanna had made Batman's acquaintance, Bruce's disappearance, and now his odd fascination with these occult books on which he had spent a small fortune, and his latest acquisition had caused him to behave in a way that was surprising even to Alfred. Although he had kept up his 'patrols' he had focused on them almost to the exclusion of everything else. Even the Joker's escape had not significantly affected this.

Alfred was not a particularly superstitious, or even a religious man, but he was quite disturbed by what was supposedly in these books that Master Bruce was collecting. He had not looked at them personally, although he had handled most of them (Master Bruce had asked them to be transferred from the library to the Batcave). Somehow, even touching them had made him feel uncomfortable, even queasy. He was still skeptical but he had had a feeling...all this had started when Miss Zatara had become involved.

Alfred finished his cup, and re-prepared the tray. He resolved to keep a closer eye on events concerning both his employer and Miss Zatara.

Bruce rolled into a sitting position the edge of the bed and stretched luxuriously. He felt as if he had just had the best workout of his life. He wondered why he hadn't done this more often; for a moment he felt a perfect contentment. Normally, he didn't prefer anything too...fancy, at least when it came to...his tastes, he was sure, were quite pedestrian, compared probably to other people. Sex was never a major part of his life, it was as much window dressing as his playboy image. In the League of Assassins, celibacy was encouraged, sometimes enforced, but he hadn't minded. He had never really believed he could enjoy being with women, that it would end up costing too much trouble. Talia, Selina and Vicki had proved him correct.

But Zatanna had introduced him to pleasures he hadn't thought possible, not because he wasn't imaginative, but really because he hadn't had the time for them before. What she had done just now had literally bewildered him, in a very, very pleasant way though. Also, she was incredibly helpful, in other ways. Part of him continued to wonder why she would do this for him - maybe she saw something in him that she desired also.

His eyes caught a glimpse between Zee's legs, saw his semen dripping copiously from her cleft, even as her breathing gradually slowed as she tried to catch her breath. It occurred to him abruptly, not without a tinge of apprehension, that he'd never used a condom with her. Surely, he thought, she was careful, mindful of her career. The thought pulled him back to earth; suddenly he was reminded of Wonder Woman's predicament, and with it that thought, that momentary bliss he had felt dissipated slightly. He suddenly recalled the tasks he had set for himself today, and he grimaced.

Zatanna caught his look of irritation. "What is it? Didn't you enjoy it?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I did I was just thinking of something else."

Zatanna moaned in dismay. "What? I hoped the show would have taken your mind off of work for at least a few minutes! For as long to put your clothes back on, anyway!"

Bruce grunted in irritation. Trust her to guess his mind. He reached out and grasped her by the shoulders reassuringly. "I didn't say anything about work, did I? But we do have things to do. Come on, get dressed. I want to take you out today."

Her eyes widened. "You...really are? You're not running off to the Hall of Justice, or some alleyway in Gotham?"

"I thought we might go out, for a drive, breakfast, maybe, before you have to do your interview."

Zatanna smiled. "That sounds better!"

There was a knock at the door. "Master Bruce, I have your morning tray. Also, there is news."

"Oh. Come in, Alfred."

Zatanna dived for the covers as the door opened, cursing Bruce inwardly. Bruce seemed not to have the slightest self-awareness when it came to Alfred. The butler walked in with a silver tray as Bruce casually drew on some boxers and she cowered under the sheets. She guessed this was a typical thing that happened in the Wayne household.

"Good morning Master Bruce, Miss Zatanna. I trust the two of you slept well?"

"Just fine, Alfred" Bruce replied without the slightest trace of irony. "You said there was news?"

Alfred set the tray on a drop-leaf table by the door. "Indeed, Master Bruce. An eyewitness to the explosion in North Dakota has awakened from his coma, a one John Henry Irons. I believe he was a co-worker of Mr. Kent's. He may be able to shed some light on the events leading up to the disaster."

"Hm. Is that all?"

"Yes, there is more. I made some preliminary inquiries, as far as HIPAA regulations would allow. There is a certain irregularity in his care, as he is being treated in a military hospital rather than a civilian facility. He was transferred there yesterday. I was unable to determine the reason for the transfer; although Mr. Irons apparently once served in the Army he is now a civilian. In addition, several of your directors would like to talk to you about what they know about the operation. There is a conference call scheduled for eight o'clock."

"Yes, that is very irregular," Bruce sighed. "All right, I'll take a look at it after breakfast."

"But-"

"Yes, sir. Miss Zatanna may I prepare you something?"

"Uh, no thanks. Listen...do what you have to do. I think I better get back to Shadowcrest and check on Spoo and the others anyway."

Bruce at least looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Zee."

"No, I understand," Wonderfully, to Bruce, it sounded like she meant it.

"I'll make it up to you. I'll see you later tonight, promise? We'll go out for dinner, wherever you want."

Zatanna smiled. "It's a promise, then. Tropsnart ot tsercwodahS."

Then he was alone, with Alfred.

"Quite a talent the young lady possesses," Alfred handed Bruce his coffee. "I assume that's just one of many."

He didn't miss that. "She's very...talented."

"Well, then, I am glad she uses her talents for good."

Bruce smiled tightly. "Yes, I'm sure she does. What are you trying to say?"

Alfred tidied up the tray, responded with a question of his own. "You haven't told her yet, have you?"

"No. No, I haven't." He looked away.

"Is there a reason?"

"I'll tell her, in good time. Do you have the information on the military hospital this Irons is staying at?"

Alfred heard the dismissive tone, and thought of saying something, but he replied. "It's all in your computer in the Batcave, Master Bruce."

"Very good, I'll be heading down there. Make some restaurant reservations for tonight. Zee and I will be dining out."

"As you wish, Sir."

Bruce sighed as Alfred took the tray and left. It didn't take a great deductive mind to realize that Alfred had much more he wanted to say. However, he realized himself he wasn't yet prepared to share his revelations with Zatanna. He still had much to consider, and he hadn't shared everything with Alfred either.

Earlier…

Alfred had brought him the information following his return from North Dakota and his fruitless investigation into the Bakken explosion. It rested on the tray next to a tea service.

"Your lunch, Master Bruce, and the information you requested."

"Good," Bruce ignored the food as Alfred poured the tea and added milk – very English. It would be a welcome diversion from the problems he'd encountered in his Dakota investigation. He picked up the manila folder, feeling the thinness. "You traced the buyer?"

"Indeed I did, and I discovered something you may find interesting," Alfred replied. "The buyer identified by the former bookseller Mr. Frome on his sales slip is a one Lee Baldwin. He is the CEO of a nonprofit called the Nathaniel Derby Pickman Foundation."

Bruce started at the name and nearly dropped his cup, feeling a chill tighten at the base of his spine.

"Pickman?" He managed to say.

"Yes," Alfred said calmly. "The Nathaniel Derby Pickman Foundation's mission statement is to promote the arts and sciences as a holistic human endeavor. They fund scientific research and artists' programs, all quite regular and proper."

"The name, this-this Nathaniel Derby Pickman. Is there any connection?"

"I am not totally sure," Alfred cleared his throat delicately. "As far as I have been able to ascertain, Nathaniel Derby Pickman was indeed a relation of the Boston artist you made the acquaintance of, but not a close one. He was a wealthy businessman who was born in Arkham but moved west at a young age, first to California then to Taos, New Mexico, where the Foundation is currently headquartered. There is very little personal information about him, other than he never married and had no children, therefore leaving the entirety of his considerable estate to sustain his Foundation."

"What else? Surely there must be some further connection?" His hand tightened on the cup, ignored the heat.

"It seems highly unlikely that they ever even met, although the Foundation reputedly has ownership of several of his paintings, which are not available to the public. The Foundation tends to eschew publicity, preferring to stay in the background while promoting a variety of projects in the sciences, for example the Hadron Particle Collider. They avoid political affiliations of any kind."

Bruce rubbed his chin. "What about the buyer himself. This Lee Baldwin? What of him?"

"There is a biography of him in your folder, Sir."

Bruce impatiently opened the folder and read a bio as might be available on any Web site. A square, color head shot, an imposing-looking black man, bald, and very dark-complected suggesting origins directly from Africa, or the Carribean. He possessed a short length of braided chin beard which gave him the look of an Egyptian pharaoh, or a jazz musician. The bio did not list any personal information, only gave dates of his employment and various projects he had been involved in, including geographic expeditions in Antarctica and in the Middle East.

"Not much here. What else?" Bruce demanded.

"No criminal record, if that is what you mean, not so much as a moving violation. No reports of illegal activity by the Foundation during his tenure, nor any implications of such."

"Why would he want to purchase the Necronomicon?"

"As for that, you may learn best by asking him yourself."

Bruce tossed the file back onto his desk, clearly annoyed at its paucity of information. "I intend to."

"Does Miss Zatanna concur with your decision?"

"I haven't told her yet."

Alfred said nothing at first but there was no mistaking the look of quiet concern – and disapproval – on his face. He spoke again.

"As she is an expert on such things, she could-"

"She's been though a lot already. This may be nothing, and I don't want to upset her." Bruce's voice had a distinct edge to it, suggesting he didn't want to talk about it. Alfred wondered at that. He had not shied from asking, sometimes demanding, Zatanna's involvement when needed.

"Will you be requiring the services of anyone else from the League?"

"No. I'll go pay this Mr. Baldwin a visit. Have my plane and suit ready for tonight."

"Sir," Alfred pointed out quietly. "This man is a civilian."

"I'm quite aware of that Alfred, I don't intend any violence unless violence is offered."

"You intend to acquire this book by any means necessary?" Alfred stared at Bruce. "Is it truly that necessary?"

"It may be. It may give us a clue as to what Amanda Waller and her people are up to, what their end game is. I need to know. In any case, that book is stolen property. If it turns out to be useless, I will return it to its prior home at the university."

"If it's not?" Alfred said quietly. "If it is as dangerous as Miss Zatanna suggests?"

Bruce looked at his hand, reddened by his grip on the hot cup. "Then we'll see what to do with it."

Taos, New Mexico

Blood once soaked the ground of the land of Taos, the blood of Native Americans and Spanish conquerors and American soldiers, but most Americans never thought of that, ever since it had developed a reputation as a favorite place of artists and nature-lovers. Still, Bruce thought, blood never forgets, ever. He never would either, the potential for violence, once kindled, was always there. In the most mundane of tasks, Batman was prepared for it.

A chill wind swept down the mountain to its base, through a quiet neighborhood where there were located a number of homes and corporate buildings. Bruce had cased the building where the Nathaniel Derby Pickman Foundation had its offices. Just as Alfred informed him, there was nothing more substantial to this nondescript suburban edifice other than standard security. There was not even a night watchman on duty. It was child's play to bypass any security there was, and gain entry.

He was always on his guard in case there were traps. Simply because a place looked peaceful and unoccupied, didn't mean that it was, and often it wasn't. There could be any number of weapons, manned or automated, waiting for him. However, he detected none; he watched patiently, correctly guessing that Baldwin would work late. It was almost the weekend, and only a handful of people in any of the offices in the five-floor building. The Foundation's offices occupied all of the fifth floor. He saw that some of its lights were on.

Batman had a good idea of where the Necronomicon would be in that building. However, he wanted to meet the CEO in person, and uncover his reasons for buying that book. He knew Alfred disapproved of him going alone, but after the fiasco at Fenderbrake's house, he didn't want to involve Zatanna or even let her know. She would have just shown up. But more importantly, he was afraid she would take the book from him before he had a chance to really peruse it. The risks were minimal in this situation, he believed. Well, he would be proved right or wrong very soon.

From his concealed vantage point, a Prius pulled into the parking lot around dusk. He saw a man matching the description in the bio exit the car. Lee Baldwin was a tall man, of slender proportions, who walked casually into the building without apparent handicap. He didn't look around him as he did so.

Batman felt a sense of anticipation that surprised him, and he forced himself to wait several minutes calming himself before he made his entrance. He passed through hallways and cubicles that seemed oddly empty, and unoccupied, despite what he had read of the Foundation being an active organization. No paintings on the walls. He found himself strangely disappointed by that.

There was no problem. He had gone through several scenarios in his mind about how he would confront this man, in a manner that would result in the outcome he wanted. It took some thought, but he finally decided on a tactic - it wasn't a terribly original or complicated tactic as they went, but it was always effective. It was simply a matter of making his appearance at a time for maximum effect.

It worked.

The CEO of the Nathaniel Derby Pickman Foundation entered his office, and turned his lights on, an action he must have done hundreds of times before without incident. He only saw the Batman when the door slammed behind him.

His eyes widened substantially in his dark face, and his mouth dropped open in shock even as he instinctively retreated hurriedly, putting his credenza between him and the Dark Knight. There was a typical mix of the usual surprise and fear. That didn't necessarily reveal anything. Most people would be quite rattled by having the Batman turn up unexpectedly in one's workplace.

"Wh-what...what are you doing here?" He gasped. He immediately raised his hands to the level of his chest. "Please...I'm not armed! Please don't hurt-"

"You have something that doesn't belong to you, Mr. Baldwin," Batman rasped impatiently, cutting him off. The man gaped at him, but only for a second.

"I-I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"You are in possession of stolen property. You purchased a book from Frome's Antiquarian in Gotham City. I'm here to retrieve it."

Recognition instantly swept over the man's face, but he appeared more confused and surprised than cagey and evasive, as Bruce was used to. "I...you mean, the Dee Necronomicon?"

"Yes. You are aware that it was reported stolen from the Miskatonic Library?"

"Yes, of course. But, that was years ago, I mean, I didn't intend to buy stolen property but once I realized what copy it was, I did contact the Library after I had made certain it was the one that was taken, but they have no wish to have it back."

That was true enough, Bruce knew. Through old police channels, Bruce had made inquiries as to the status of that university's efforts to retrieve their property. He had learned that the matter had been shelved many years ago, and that the current administrators were not interested in recovering their property. There had been a certain reticence on the part of the librarians there to discuss the matter at all, he'd noted.

"Where is it?" Batman demanded.

"It's...right here. I will get it."

Slowly and carefully, as if someone was holding a gun on him, Baldwin opened the bottom cabinet of his desk and removed the book. He carefully placed it on top of the desk.

Batman looked at it a moment. A thick volume bound in a dark leather. There were no markings the cover. It looked old but not particularly distinctive.

"I assure you, I had no intention to participate in any illegal activity."

Bruce wasn't yet convinced. "Why did you purchase this book? Was it to use it?"

"'Use...it'?" Baldwin looked puzzled. "I don't understand you."

Bruce approached him closer, and the man looked alarmed but to his credit he didn't cringe.

"There are people who believe that books like the Necronomicon can give great power. They want to use it to create trouble."

"Oh!" For a moment the black man actually looked amused, almost as if he might laugh despite his alarm. "No, no of course not! This was a purchase on behalf of the Foundation, one of our new projects to preserve rare and ancient books. There is certainly no intention to practice witchcraft! We are dedicated to the sciences and the arts, not, ah, religious worship."

Obviously none of you have met a homo magii then, Bruce thought. He studied the man closely, he was very good at determining if a person was lying but he didn't see any of the signs in the man's face.

"Regardless of what you personally believe, Mr. Baldwin, there are people who believe and would go to great lengths to acquire this book for that person."

"Ah...I see what you mean," Baldwin said. He seemed to relax slightly. "Then, you should know Mr. Bat...Batman, that this particular Necronomicon is not the true Necronomicon."

Bruce was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"This is the John Dee translation. Do you know who John Dee was?"

"A court astrologer in the time of Elizabeth I."

Baldwin nodded. "Yes. Many have believed he was a magician, but what is often forgotten was that he was a devout Protestant Christian. He would not have been allowed at the court of Elizabeth I if he was known to be involved in Satanism or black magic."

Batman stared at the book. "You mean that that is a fake?"

"No, not quite. Yes, this is a translation of the Necronomicon, but only one of them, and the least faithful to the original, perhaps. Dee was working from an earlier, Latin copy, perhaps the Wormius edition, which may or may not have been a translation from the Arabic original. That is the true Necronomicon, the Kitab Al-Azif, composed perhaps in Damascus, or Yemen by the so-called Abdul Alhazred, which is most likely a pseudonym as it is not a real Arabic name. John Dee made a faithful copy, but he appended much of it, and most of it is his own work, which includes many warnings on its content, which is barely readable in any case."

Baldwin was warming up to his subject, he was clearly very fascinated by the book, even if he claimed not to believe in its alleged powers. "The original Kitab Al Azif is believed to be lost, but I have heard, ah, rumors, that it may have been rediscovered recently. Possibly by an American soldier in Afghanistan. But that may not be really true, one hears so many rumors when one gets involved in acquiring lost books. In any case, it may be more than our Foundation can afford, if it ever became available on the open market."

"This Necronomicon," Batman said. "What can it do? What is it supposed to do?"

Baldwin shrugged. "Open doors. That's what all books do, really. Books are powerful of course, but not because of the occult. It is the ideas they engender in the mind. The Bible or the Koran is more potent than any so-called grimoire, or even Das Kapital or a boy scout manual. But I suppose what the attraction is, is that it is supposed to reveal ways of prolonging human life, or contacting supernatural forces. That has been its attraction throughout the centuries. I must say it makes no sense to me, but the illustrations made by Dee are certainly fascinating. That is why we wanted it for our project."

Baldwin paused, staring at the Batman. "Since you are here, someone of your...stature, you must think that there is some real danger here. Is that so?"

Batman only gave the slightest nod. "I cannot let this book remain here. Poor translation or not, it is still dangerous, in the hands of certain people. I can't tell you more than that, Mr. Baldwin."

"What...are you going to do with it?" Baldwin asked.

"I...will take it where it can't be used for evil purposes. If Miskatonic University does not want it, it will relocated where it can't be used. If you contact the Gotham City Police Department, there may be a way you recoup your investment. I believe Mr. Frome was willing to return some of the funds," Batman said grimly.

Batman was prepared for an argument but Baldwin seemed not to be put out by the loss of his investment. If he had caught the white lie in Bruce's voice, he didn't seem to notice, or care. He only nodded, thoughtfully, as if the matter no longer concerned him. He turned to go but then the man's deep voice arrested him.

"Wait, Batman. I have something else for you."

Bruce turned, on his guard. Baldwin had reached into his desk and brought out something else. A file, bulging with papers, held together by a thick rubber band.

"I didn't know who else to bring this information to. I was afraid of contacting the Gotham City Police knowing how they…" he lifted his hands helplessly.

Batman stared at the file. "What is that? What are you talking about?"

"I...believe I know the identity of the Joker."

To be continued….

[A/N: Thanks again for reading! If you're wondering if there is something...familiar about Lee Baldwin's appearance, you may be correct, but you have to be familiar with the Lovecraft canon, I'm afraid. But what does he have on the Joker? What is Bruce going to do with the Necronomicon? Just enough to get himself in trouble, lol. For all the SMWW fans, next chapter we'll be visiting them again, and for those of you wondering what Deathstroke is up to, will get an a character from my first JL story, The Red House, will reappear! Please review, and hope to have that one up soon.]