Chapter: 19
"Is there a point to this?" Darren whispered out of the corner of his mouth from where he sat in front of a set of large floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, in an easy pose his hands gently resting on his knees,
"Perhaps if you gave it more than two minutes you might find something beneficial about it?" Barbara mumbled, her tone a near sing-song pitch and veiled with a thin layer of irritation.
Darren let out a huff of air, slumping slightly in his seated position before straightening once more. His mind was a whirlwind, and he couldn't get it to settle. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop with Charles, especially after his visit. Darren didn't know if he should have revealed his hand like that, using Charles' own child to show that he knew where he lived…that he was onto him, the threat of his observance…Darren knew what that could do to someone. He couldn't undo it now; he could only hope that Charles knew what battles to pick and he wouldn't attempt to interfere with Darren's life again—if it had been Charles who revealed Renegade's parentage to the Gotham police force and the criminal underworld. As it was, there hadn't been much conflict yet, the police mainly avoided him at all costs, which was preferable to Darren. And the criminals who might want to get at him knew not to cross the Bat—and it was clear that Renegade was among the Bats' ranks.
And Tim…Tim was lying about something. Or at least hiding something. A kind of grim understanding stood in his gaze off and on whenever he looked at Darren. He didn't know what to make of Tim's stare…though he knew it wasn't quite negative. It was an intrigued stare, the stare of someone with their own game afoot and Darren didn't know if he liked being an unwilling player in said game. It wasn't menacing or antagonistic, Tim was his usual self around Darren. And Darren didn't know whether Tim thought he was putting on a front of normalcy or knew he was being very clear to Darren. Either way, Tim was on a hunt of his own, and while a prickle of paranoia on that front cut its way down Darren's spine on occasion…he knew it wasn't a threat by Tim. Not a true one…at least not yet. Darren didn't know if it would turn the other way at all, he didn't even know if he was right, and it was only the anticipation of Charles' next move that had him questioning his closest friend. Either way, there were two schemes Darren was caught up in, along with the Court and he couldn't predict the outcome of either. At least with Tim, it wasn't hostile…even if he didn't know what the game was that Tim played.
As for Barbara and her meditation games—no matter how effective while his brain was going haywire—he knew what she was doing. Barbara was playing Darren's own methods against him, as Bruce did the night before, and she knew he had no patience for that. Good thing Darren was just as stubborn as he was set in his roundabout ways. Barbara may be able to wait him out, but Darren can equally wait her out. He couldn't imagine what Barbara wanted to try and discuss, he hadn't had any nightmares in a while, there were no obvious irregularities with his moods, he'd been going to his therapy sessions with Dinah, he had caught up in his schoolwork and there were no new complaints from the school. Had Bruce mentioned something about his insomnia? That wasn't anything new…they all basically had varying degrees of insomnia. There wasn't anything to talk about…unless…it was about the older concerns regarding the Academy.
Dick and Babs had attempted further discussions about the information they received at the meeting with Headmaster Alverstone as well as about his outburst when first interrogated about the issues. They had been met with silence and vacant stares or non-responses. Darren knew they worried, he knew they cared and that was the only reason they asked. But Darren didn't want to talk about it. He didn't see the point, or why it would matter now after things had gotten back to relative normalcy. Sure, the knowledge was still there, but Darren played his part well and kept his usual disappearance acts to a minimum and kept his schoolwork relatively up to date. The issues were not as urgent as they once were. Perhaps it was because they were detectives, and this was an investigation there was no answer for…at least not yet. They yearned for some form of closure that Darren had no desire to see come to fruition.
In truth, Darren had no idea why he didn't want to, or couldn't, speak to them about the issues he faced in the Academy. The worry of the aftereffects of insomnia getting the better of him, falling asleep in class, the potential of a nightmare—waking or otherwise—panic attacks, moments of disassociation…things that would cause whispering, attention, and worse questions. It wasn't as if the struggles Darren dealt with daily were a secret, and Darren knew that both Dick and Barbara knew those potential occurrences may be exacerbated by the Academy especially as it was an entirely foreign environment to Darren. He knew that they knew that…it should be such a problem, it should be hard. But…but just knowing and speaking about these issues were two different things. And talking about these problems, in general, brought them to the forefront of everyone's mind. Perhaps, in all honesty, Darren was afraid of what discussing the issues he faced at the Academy as well as in everyday life, would lead to...the paths of thought the people around him might go down, the realizations they might come to, how everything Darren worked so hard to protect could be discovered by just the right idea at the right time at the right moment. Darren couldn't face those truths coming to light…not yet…not when he could barely fathom the few who knew that truth, who held onto that part of himself as well. Darren's avoidance…was also in a small messed up way a means of protection,
"Do you find anything beneficial about this?" Darren questioned finally, pushing attention away from himself and to Barbara instead.
It occurred then, as Barbara let out a sigh as if considering her response, that Darren never really focused on the rest of the Bats' trauma and pasts. He knew they all had their fair share, and he knew enough of the details…and when the moment arose, Darren was there to talk and understand, but it was never often, or it never seemed or appeared as obvious or intense as his experiences. Perhaps because it was his own personal trauma resurfacing, and that not everyone was so willing for their pain to be voiced or discussed, Darren certainly hated it. It wasn't purposeful ignorance nor was this intentional disregard of those around him…it was more a realization that his guardians had been through just as much as he had throughout their lives. They endured their own aftereffects…and Darren remembered what Barbara had once said about coping. They had been given proper mechanisms for coping…while Darren had never truly learned them. It might be in that key distinction where the reason for Darren's seeming indifference lay,
"This isn't necessarily a lesson in coping, Darren," Barbara said finally, as if reading his mind, "That wasn't exactly my intention,"
"Then why bring me into this at all?"
"This is more so…to help empty the mind, to just be calm and rest calmly and…just exist…do something mindless for a while. You seemed to have a bit of nervous energy…fidgety, flitty…I thought this could dial that back,"
"Isn't that a coping mechanism?" Darren mused, raising an eyebrow,
"Not everything relating to relaxation or calm or peace is a coping mechanism…an outlet can be just something you enjoy, something that brings you ease and rest,"
"I…I don't think I could do that, just…let my mind be empty," Darren admitted, after a pause considering Barbara's comment, surprised by his honesty,
"You never know. This could be a moment of letting go, of enjoyment,"
"I'm pretty sure that's the whole point of a coping mechanism?" Darren retorted again, letting out a sigh as he sat back, leaning on his hands. Something flickered in Barbara's eyes, something Darren couldn't quite interpret, though it disappeared just as quickly as she looked out ahead through the large window at the city skyline in front of them.
The penthouse view was definitely something Darren would miss. With his enhanced sight, he could see for miles beyond the expansive view before them, sometimes if it was clear enough Darren thought he could pick out the skyline of Metropolis. Though the townhouse would be more spacious, and Darren would get a room to himself once more, he couldn't help but feel perturbed by the prospect of moving. Glancing back behind him Darren couldn't help but feel a sense of unassuming dread at the sparsely decorated living room area. Boxes were scattered around half-filled with items, pictures, paintings, clothes, and furniture…day by day the penthouse was becoming emptier and emptier. Tim would be coming by sometime soon to help disassemble the makeshift Batcave computer setup in the upstairs 'guest room.' The shattered table, the broken piece leaning off against one nearby wall would not be coming with them and while both Dick and Barbara were not upset about the furniture being broken by Darren, the sight of it still sent his stomach roiling with feelings of shame, dread, and unease. Darren hated when his strength got away from him. When he acted without considering his abilities…it was a reminder of what he was raised to be, a weapon…not a savior…just something shrouded in darkness; something to be used,
"Do you ever draw for fun…as something you enjoy?" Barbara asked suddenly, startling Darren. He jerked back around to stare at her, eyes wide,
"Um…I mean…sort of I guess," Darren answered, shrugging, "Sometimes,"
"Or…do you draw only as a means to cope?" Barbara went on, looking almost cautiously over at Darren,
"Drawing helps…it gets things out. It's something to focus on rather than…whatever…itself,"
"Coping…isn't always necessarily the same as enjoyment. I don't want you to mistake one for the other…that something you might enjoy doing has to work to benefit you, to dim whatever you are struggling with. This isn't coping, but it could be something that's enjoyable to you, something beneficial without being a means to cope with past trauma," Barbara spoke carefully, as if unsure of how Darren would take what she said. Darren could understand why…it was odd to be faced with something that was fact yet equally confounding to him,
"I know that coping and happiness aren't the same thing, Barbara," Darren murmured dryly,
"Yes…right, sorry. I didn't mean to just assume or imply…it's just, sometimes…it's, it's just very hard to differentiate the two. When coping is just the only means to get by," Barbara's voice became softer, thinner, and she swallowed with difficulty before continuing, "I know…it can be hard, difficult. I want there to be things that make you happy, rather than just serve a purpose or are a means to an end. That's not to say coping can't lead to happiness or enjoyment...I just want there to be things you like and are eager to do rather than something you feel you have to,"
"I know…I appreciate that, I really do. Not many people in my life before now would have cared. It means a lot to me that you do," Darren's own voice became rougher, his throat stinging a little with emotion…a feeling of warmth radiating through him, a small little peace in a world of chaos,
"And Darren…I know you don't want to or can't talk about it…but if you are able, I really need to know what is happening in these gym classes specifically, it's been devouring my mind since we've heard. I know the teacher you have…I know he's ex-military and that is essentially a Talon-level attitude at times. If that's what's triggering you in school, we can transfer you to another class," Darren let out a snort, as he pulled a leg out from the easy pose position to rest an elbow on them as he considered, chewing on the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should say anything at all.
Barbara seemed genuinely worried…and he knew he wasn't exactly being fair in keeping his silence. He'd just thought about not paying attention to their pasts and traumas while he was also ignoring their emotions about the issues he was having in school. Maybe, at the moment, he convinced himself they didn't really care…even if Darren knew that was a blatant lie, the twisted thought always crept back into his head. It was rooted deep, and no amount of pruning or care or change seemed to destroy those thoughts completely. Darren knew both Dick and Barbara cared…they cared to what seemed an inordinate amount…and Dinah often spoke about trust to Darren. This secret wasn't the worst to reveal, but in a way, it was connected to the darker secret Darren couldn't reveal, not yet…not to his guardians. But the pain and worry and fear in Barbara's eyes was real, Darren could read that in her expression. She was so open, and honest, and truthful…and she knew how hard it could be…to cope, to keep going, to find that inner happiness and peace without it serving a secondary purpose,
"Do you really want to know what it's about?" Darren asked, Barbara merely stared over at him in gentle silence. Unwilling it seemed to shatter the peace, "These…it's about these," Darren held out an arm, showing off the black bands circling his forearms, visible with the T-shirt he was wearing. Barbara knit her eyebrows together in question,
"They're not standard of the school's gym uniform," Darren supplied with a shrug,
"That's complete bullshit…that's utterly ridiculous," Barbara muttered in utter shock,
"Not to him," Darren retorted, "He wants me to take them off…but, I-I can't,"
"And so, you fight back by not putting any effort into the class. Which is where all the complaints come in from for PE," Darren nodded, though his eyebrows narrowed in realization,
"You spoke to Livy," he stated, only with slight accusation in his tone. Barbara smiled sheepishly,
"I was worried…and you weren't ready to speak. And I really do appreciate you telling me this now. Livia didn't say anything, only that it wasn't serious. I just needed to know you were okay, I shouldn't have gone behind your back. I'm sorry,"
"It's okay…it's only natural for a parent to be concerned about their kid," Darren answered wolfishly as Barbara grimaced and groaned, head falling into her hands,
"Ugggh, please no…Darren don't go on saying that. I am not old enough to be a parent,"
"I needed a little revenge for that," Darren answered with a laugh to which Barbara gave him a mockingly angry scowl before her face became more serious once more,
"But truly, Darren, thank you for trusting me with this. I may not know why you choose to wear those bands…and maybe one day you might tell me…but for now I know that they are helping you in some way. And that's all that matters. Your gym teacher shouldn't be harassing you about them," Darren nodded somewhat somberly, acknowledging that perhaps…given recent behaviors…the bands weren't helping as much as they had initially. A shiver snaked down his spine at that realization, an uncomfortable itching tiptoeing down his arms almost in response. Darren twisted away, in an effort to avoid thinking of those phantom chills, and looked instead to where his phone lay a little way away on the floor where he left it when Barbara insisted he join her for the brief stint of meditation,
"Waiting to hear from Livy?" Barbara questioned, slight teasing in her tone. If Darren could flush properly, he might have but instead, he just wrinkled his nose and scooped up the phone,
"Haven't heard from her in a little bit," Darren admitted,
"Hoping to visit tonight?"
"Maybe. But I think she's just busy with homework right now. Winter break's coming up, she has that big performance for ballet and there's also midterms,"
"Ahh, speaking of homework-," Darren gulped and hurriedly pulled himself back into easy pose,
"So, um as you were saying…meditation?" Barbara chuckled as she shook her head,
"Nah-uh…that moment's past. Get on with your schoolwork young man or no dessert for you!"
"That's just cruel," Darren sighed as he got up to grab his stuff from his room while Barbara laughed playfully.
It felt good to tell Barbara the truth, to ease that worry for her…if only it were easier for Darren to do. If only there weren't so many reasons to hold back a dark voice hissed in Darren's head as walked away rubbing desperately at his arm…willing the sweeping chills to simply go away even as the stress, the pressure of the past, mounted relentlessly.
There was only an eerie quietness as Livia's feet touched down softly onto the uneven tiled flooring, a silence that echoed, unsettlingly. The knowledge of the second murder haunted Livia. It whispered in the back of her mind endlessly, dogging her day and night, as the silent shadowed thoughts of the victims encroached upon anything familiar and comforting. The ghosts of the victims did not come forward…did not demand justice or a conclusion to their unfinished business. Livia could only assume they didn't know why they had been killed or had crossed over immediately without anything more to do on the Earthly Plane…or…an even darker voice murmured sickly sweet in the back of her mind, they had no desire to face their own murderer.
Sleep over the course of the next few days since discovering the second murder had been impossible, the daytime a hazy daydream filled with obsessively scrolling through her phone until it was too much to deal with…too little known, too little unknown. There had to be more, there needed to be a sense, a direction with why this was happening…why it was seemingly tied to Livia. The only solution to this lack of comprehension in her mind was the scene of the crime. But as Livia glanced around the darkened storefront, plastered with designs of tattoos and cleaned devices for tattooed renderings Livia could only feel a sense of foreboding. Unsure as to whether the feeling was triggered because this could be her fault or because of the amount of contamination she was exposing the relatively fresh crime scene to. Livia could erase all traces of herself, her DNA, her finger, and footprints…anything identifiable but only once she assessed the scene herself. Only when she'd determined if this victim died of magical means.
Yellow 'do not cross' tape plastered the entryway, though remained unmarred as Livia had teleported into the lobby of the store, little numbered tags were scattered around the area, marking the sequence of events, or perhaps providing order to the photographs taken. The tools and materials used by forensic teams pushed off to one side of the canvased area, powders, and brushes laid on carts, the casts created on-scene, renderings of footprints and significant—or insignificant—items found askew or out of place solidifying in labs…out of reach by Livia, but not by the Bats. Their own levels of expertise an asset for the GCPD though perhaps this case was out of their depth especially if magic was involved there's only so much forensic methodology could do in regards to supernatural interference. Livia never really asked about the cases her friends encountered during the night. It felt wrong to encroach upon the relative peace of everyday life, the respite they had during the day, by asking for details on something so gruesome.
In truth perhaps Livia equally couldn't bring herself to ask about these victims out of fear her detective friends would figure out why she was so interested, and they would view her as a suspect instead of their friend. Perhaps a little shallow and foolish, but Livia couldn't be caught in the shadow of another curse, one that wouldn't result in her death but a lack of free will. And she certainly didn't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, so she would dictate the terms of when her fears and suspicions were revealed.
Livia had never gone with Tim or Darren or Steph to crime scenes. She never saw them canvas the area, scavenging around for the smallest detail or piece of evidence. Livia had no skill for forensics…but magic, that was something she could determine. If magic was used to kill the two victims, their husk-like ashen corpses all that remained, Livia would be able to sense it…if Livia's magic had been used to kill these victims, she would be able to find it. She didn't know what it would mean if her magic wasn't the source of these killings. It may be a relief to know that Livia wasn't the person committing these murders, but it would mean that someone with similarly destructive powers was roaming around Gotham…killing people. Either outcome wouldn't be pleasant. It also meant someone within the magical community was acting out…bringing unwanted attention, whether purposefully or not, to the true beings that went bump in the dark.
With a stilted, but deeply calming breath, Livia centered herself…mentally steeling herself really…and looked beyond what was found within the Earthly, or Physical Plane. Pushing past the real and through to the unreal…the mana that tethered all living things into one interconnected web. To the matter that was converted into magic and spells and power. All magic users had a magical energy, like an aura but tied to their power, not their moods. This energy could be an indicator of how powerful the magic user was or how much control they had magically. With practice, one could generally see that energy hovering around another witch or magician. It was a sign of respect and open trust to actively show the energy signature, albeit a more controlled expression of it rather than an unchecked and unpracticed showing of power. It could also be used to signal a threat, especially when underestimated by an opponent. Concurrently with practice, one could also hide the energy signature from prying eyes, either to protect themselves or to downplay their magical ability…keep the odds in their favor, and keep unwanted attention away. Those who have little to no control or awareness of their powers leaked magic into the world, their surrounding energy erratic and vibrant. And that magical energy, that unique signifying manifestation of a magic user's abilities, was tied to all the spellwork the individual performed. Big or small there was a hint of that magical signature within the resulting magical outcome, like a magical thumbprint. The sight may help with seeing the future, but it was also useful in finding the source of magical workings.
Casting a careful eye around the store, walking silently around the area, stepping over pieces of tape, areas quartered off for more scrutiny until her gaze settled upon a pile of what looked to be crumbled ash…the body or rather what remained of the body that could be swept into a pile. Livia felt sick to her stomach, a throbbing ache spreading through her body as she stepped closer a faint magical energy pulsing like a morbidly ironic heartbeat from the core of the clumped remains. There was a magical signature…but it wasn't Livia's magic. This was the work of someone else…that thought chilled her to the bone. What could this mean? Was this Constantine? Some kind of test? A means to draw her out, to expose the shameful half-truths she's been throwing his way concerning the balance within herself magically since the outcome of the Merging Ritual? Or was this the work of a different magician…one with no known motives or patterns? Could this person be a threat to Livia, had they known she'd been here and attempted to follow? Get information on her…but why? What did this hypothetical magic user want? Livia should stop guessing, and stop wondering about motive or reasoning. There may be no pattern yet, but the beginnings of one were enough to be concerning. Livia may not be committing these murders, but someone was, someone dangerous, reckless…ruthless. Livia should have gone back then and there, she needed to tell the others and describe what she found out, but the magical signature bobbed around, like a fish in a fishbowl, revealing a tendril of magic trailing away towards the back end of the store. Livia couldn't help it, the potential for more information pulled her forward following the invisible pathway of magic slowly and surely, caution still sending its silent prickle of awareness down her spine.
The trail led down towards a lone hallway, where a back entrance to the facility was, lit by indeterminately spaced dim lights. Warily Livia turned at the threshold of the hall, freezing every time a light flickered too erratically until halfway down she stopped, stunned…there was someone standing there at the back entrance door as if they wandered in looking for somewhere warm and dry,
"I—Jennifer?" Livia sputtered, stunned and unsure of herself…unaware of why she spoke at all,
"Livia," It wasn't a question, nor was her tone tinged with surprise. It unnerved Livia…she felt as if she should move, retreat, but it was as if her feet couldn't move, "What are you doing here. I don't think your father would like his precious little daughter wandering around crime scenes,"
"What are you doing here?" Livia realized then that Jennifer wore a long dark-colored coat…no, more of a cloak, and she was smiling…smirking almost expectantly,
"Waiting." Was all she said. The magical energy Livia was following, which had started winding and wrapping itself around Jennifer's legs as if it were a cat, suddenly faded out, vanishing from existence…as if absorbed—
—Livia's mouth fell open in abject horror, in stunned realization, as she stumbled back a step only to slam into something solid, a person's chest covered in the same material that made up Jennifer's cloak, their hand falling heavily on Livia's shoulder causing her to jerk her head up. She came face to face with a sneering smirking stranger, with a long hooked nose, sandy hair, and hazel eyes a large tattoo of a snake curling around his cheekbone up by his temple with its tongue hissing along the curve of his eyebrow. The cry Livia meant to let out caught in her throat, and the harsh shove away from the guy who'd crept up behind her abandoned as Livia instead collapsed to her knees. The feeling of nausea, what Livia once attributed to her dislike of Jennifer…of the woman's relationship with her father…intensified to the point of indescribable pain as all of Livia's strength, her energy, was pulled from her body. It was like there was a vacuum surrounding her, entrapping her, entangling her. There was nowhere to run, no means to reach her magic…it was like it wasn't there anymore…no strength left to fight. Livia felt like a wounded feral animal, abandoned and on the brink of death unable to do anything but lay down and die.
As dark spots began to form, as the world began to darken and a loud ringing droned in her ears…as the force of whatever was sapping all of her being became too much, Livia managed to focus her whirling eyes on Jennifer, where she still stood by the back door unmoved by what she was witnessing, and managed to gasp out one, pitiful word before the dark overcame her,
"…S-siphoner."
Livia came to hunched over on her side with a lurching gasp, eyes whirling wildly as she tried to make sense of her muddled, hazy, and exhausted slew of memories. The ground was wet, moist, with an earthy smell to it…dirt…Livia was laid out on dirt…where, where was she? Livia moved to pull herself upright only to let out a pitiful whimper as she realized her hands and feet were tied behind her back. Dull aching pain radiated at her wrists from where the rope was pulled too tight…as well as from bruises, cuts, and scrapes that littered her body, her clothes were also torn in various places. Did they drag me all the way here? Livia thought numbly to herself, squeezing her eyes tight trying to stop the prickling of tears that threatened to spill. No, she would not break down, not now…not here, wherever here was. Livia took a sharp inhale and exhale, focusing not on the pain and panic but on discovering where she had been taken. The roaring heat of flame told Livia there was a bonfire at her back, lighting the darkened area. With a real effort, she craned her head around, trying in vain to focus her vision, dizziness was not the only ailment she was suffering. The weariness she felt was unlike anything she ever experienced…her head pounded, her vision still swam…her heart pounded frantically in her chest—not only from fear and shock—and each breath she pulled in made her torso feel like it was in a vice. Worst of all, she felt weak, more than that Livia felt languished…drained…like a stopper had been inserted between her and her magic. She…she felt empty. Livia couldn't reach her magic and that terrified her.
As Livia finally managed to maneuver her head into a more helpful position she could see trees, an open night sky littered with stars, the moon bright and full. Livia's heart sank at that sight…she was in the woods. No real forests were close to Gotham proper, there were some sparsely populated woodlands surrounding the city but those were mainly for ambitious trail runners or hikers or for the fishing spots closer to the harbor. Not so much used for camping or regularly visiting and there was no consistent maintenance of the areas except for the trails...and they were very clearly off trail. Even worse, with magic, Livia could have been taken to any area of woods anywhere in the world, she was out of reach for anyone to help or rescue her. Tears threatened to overflow once more but Livia gritted her teeth, biting her lip hard as she twisted her cheek down into the dirt…no tears, not here, not here.
From this position, Livia could see shoes and ankles, she could hear whooping and chuckling, as well as chatter all around her. Livia was surrounded, she was encircled by Siphoners…a fucking cult of them. Constantine had really downplayed what a Siphoner was…or perhaps hadn't realized Livia might encounter such a magic user. There had been no means to counter, no means to predict or see the magic in use. It had just happened…any attempt at stopping the transition of magic from Livia to the Siphoner had disappeared, merging into the Siphoner's growing reserves. Replenished, revived by Livia's stolen magic...and it had hurt. It felt as if Livia was being torn open, her magic being forcibly torn away from her. Magic was a living part of Livia, to have something so intricately integrated within her very being shorn away in such a violent, forceful, and perverse way was… was…violating.
Livia let out a choked whimper of a sob, squeezing her eyes such as she gritted her teeth…trying to stop the well of emotion, her trembling…the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to sink down into the earth, become one with the prickly grass and darkened soil…she wished she'd never gone to investigate…she wished she'd tried scrying or tapping into her psychic abilities or even told someone what she'd feared was happening and what she planned on doing. But now it was too late…Livia had no idea what was going to happen and no means of escaping without risking burnout or worse death. Performing magic with such low-energy reserves was dangerous…especially with opponents more powerful than she was now, with greater numbers and unknown skills. Livia could do nothing to save herself…her heart sank…despair washed over her. Someone, anyone, come find me Livia thought desperately to herself, repeatedly as if she could reach across time and space to the ones she loved,
"Ugh…I'm bored," Livia picked out a voice from all the rest, as the crunching of gravel alerted her that someone was coming over to where she lay, "C'mon, up and at 'em!" the voice crowed nastily, a heavy kick landing on Livia's backside.
Livia sucked in a breath trying not to wince at the roiling throbbing ache that radiated across her back—there were more scrapes and cuts along her back—willing herself to move, to roll over so she could face her kidnapper. She knew who it was, she recognized the voice, and she faced her attacker with a glare,
"Aww," Jennifer cooed, a smirk crossing her face her eyes filled with a coldness Livia had never noticed until that moment, "She's a wittle grumpy,"
"Perhaps she needs a little more discipline," A second voice jeered, far too close and too near Livia for comfort, she jerked around once more…away from Jennifer, twisting to come face to face with the man that had stolen her magic, his hazel eyes gleaming in the light from the dancing fire. Livia let out a startled yelp, jerking back at how close he was to her…eyeing her like a prized possession, her skin crawled. Jennifer let out another laugh, kicking Livia once more as she stepped over her, moving to stand beside the crouching sandy-haired man,
"Careful babe, too much will kill her…and we can't have that now, can we?"
"Her magic is so strong…it's intoxicating…I can't help wanting more," he murmured, almost mesmerized as he reached forward as if to stroke Livia's cheek. Livia shuddered, pulling herself farther away from the guy stopping only as the heat from the fire became too intense.
"What?" Livia managed to get out, unable to take their stares and the roaring haze of exhaustion and quiet in her own mind any longer, finally finding her voice as she struggled into an upright position, ignoring the discomfort of her bonds digging harshly into her skin, "What is this…what-what is happening?"
"What is happening, Livy—,"
"—you don't get the right to that name," Livia snarled, suddenly furious, all the fear and panic finally giving way to pure unyielding rage,
"Feisty," the guy said approvingly, "She'll be fun,"
"—Is that you are moments away from becoming our life-long magical buffet!" Jennifer threw her hands out as if giving a grand reveal and the rest of the Siphoners let out rallying whoops of glee and raucous excitement. The rage Livia felt suddenly twisted into dread…into fear…and panic once more at the implication, at the Siphoners' intentions,
"…Why…I…What is this?" Livia couldn't process this, couldn't form coherent sentences. All she wanted was to lie down and go to sleep. For this to be some nightmare or premonition. The exhaustion was weighing her down, it was hard to think, hard to understand…hard to fight to remain upright, "Was everything with my dad just to get to me?" She couldn't stop herself from asking, from demanding that truth…the betrayal her father was experiencing, even without him knowing it, infuriating beyond belief.
In fact, in the firelight Jennifer didn't look quite so old…or rather she certainly didn't look around Alaric's age anymore. Glamour Livia's mind whispered to itself. This whole time…right under Livia's nose. She felt foolish, like an idiot, for not seeing it sooner. A part of herself remembered how she felt around Jennifer as if all the energy and life were being sucked out of the air around her. It hadn't been enough to warn her, nor did it ring familiar when Constantine spoke of Siphoners,
"Why?" Jennifer snapped, leering over Livia, "Why are we doing this? Because it is what we've always done. It's the only thing we can do. Our only means of power. Do you have any idea what it is like being born into a magical family, into the birthright of the homo-magi race, only to have no magic of your own? That you must absorb mana from something external to yourself? To have that connection to magic, but no means of reaching it save for leeching it away from another source? No…no, I don't think you do Livia Baudelaire. We're pariahs among our own kind…marginalized because we must steal our birthright to use it.
"I could sense the awakening of something powerful here in Gotham…I didn't know what, and I certainly didn't know who. But there was something here, in a city where there is rarely any magic, that had to be something. And then I bumble into the hospital, following the trail and some story of a miraculous recovery of some rich kid brat, only to stumble upon this man with magic absolutely surrounding him…but it wasn't his own magic…not by a longshot." Jennifer shrugged then, as the guy beside her chuckled. Livia grimaced, remembering all the spells she placed upon her dad to protect him from Klarion. She never thought of minimizing the exertion of magical energy around him…Livia never thought any other magic user would pay any attention, certainly not to her father,
"And my god he was so fucking clueless too. It was easy to enthrall him, even with all that magic surrounding him, to go through his mind…manipulate whatever I needed, and glamour myself into whatever he liked, it was nothing. Easy as pie…well, mundane minds are always so easy to control. Oh, and don't worry Liv, there was no hanky-panky going on between us…he was set adrift so to speak, he had some good false memories though!" Jennifer laughed then, clearly enjoying Livia's discomfort, "I had some fun too, fucking with your life. I knew you were the magical one in the family, I thought isolating you would make it easier to lure you away…but you were not so easily maneuvered, ha, you hated me!" Jennifer nodded over at Livia with a mischievous grin on her face,
"So, I waited…thinking nothing of it, hoping you'd let your guard down…but then something changed, you changed…there was more magic…even as you minimized the energy surrounding you, you exuded magic—granted it's much more controlled now but earlier on, it was blinding!" Livia thought of the Baudelaire necklace, perhaps it masked her magical energy before the Merge. Protecting her powers from magical detection, muting her output, as well as physically from Klarion,
"The change was uncanny…I couldn't wrap my head around it…until I learned you didn't go by Branley. You were Livia Baudelaire. You are the famed Baudelaire witch, the myth, the legend…a fucking child. We'd hit the fucking jackpot…but you hated me, wouldn't leave me alone with you…thought of using your brother but he kept his distance and there was no point in siphoning him to dust, and there was no magic coming out of doing that…no use. But, but I can also see through glamours. I knew you were hiding some interesting piercings and tattoos, one of which was magical…and I thought, why not draw you out? You already feared yourself and your power…you just needed a little bit more of a nudge off the deep end. The jeweler was a hit and miss, though, next time we spelled the tattoo place to alert us if your magical energy ever entered its threshold…and well, here we are. You, at our mercy, the piece de resistance!" Jennifer grinned, glancing back to the other guy, who'd stood up fully, towering over Livia, their shadows casting themselves long over where Livia knelt,
"Anything to add Seth?"
"You're going to have a long, long life with us," the guy, Seth, said, "We've got a never-ending magical battery with you among our ranks,"
"Like I'd ever join you! You just admitted to manipulating my father, contemplated killing my brother, and murdered innocent people just to lure me here! I'd never join you," Livia spat, fueled by the rising anger and hatred she felt,
"Oh…you won't have a choice. Once the ritual spell is complete, your mind will be like butter, malleable for our fine-tuning, and your lifeforce linked to one of us…so we can siphon as we please without killing you," Seth stated sagely,
"…What?" Livia whispered, in abject horror, "…The ritual spell?" Terror replaced the simultaneous rage and loathing, fear mounting as she glanced at the bonfire, then at the full moon above and the chalk lines surrounding Livia and the fire that she hadn't noticed before in her despair,
"Aww, don't worry…just think of it this way. You're saving so many lives by helping us. It's the right thing to do. Isn't that what anyone wants to do? Isn't that what you wanted to do when you saved that comatose boy?" Jennifer murmured gently, crouching closer to Livia as if to comfort her, who hunched away from the Siphoner, "It's such a small sacrifice to make…you won't even realize what's happening." Jennifer and Seth cackled before turning as one towards the others huddling around the far side of the fire while Livia trembled, chilled despite the heat of the flames.
Someone…anyone…find me…free my magic…do something! Livia cried in her mind, anguish filling the void from her fear and terror. There was a glimmer of something within her, some form of attentiveness…she couldn't tell whether it was magic, or she was just going to be sick, but it was something. The effect of the siphoning was lifting…but how long until Livia was powerful enough to free herself, would it even be enough to escape this cult?
"The spell is ready," Seth called to the rest of the Siphoners. Livia jerked to attention, wiggling in her ropes trying to fray the rope, to pull free to do anything…wincing as the rope only cut deeper into her wrists and ankles, "Places everyone!"
Jennifer and Seth pranced over flanked by three more of their people, holding what looked like a red-hot poker, twisted into an unfamiliar shape, Livia's heart thundered in her chest…she felt sick and feverish. The rest of the Siphoner cult circled around the fire, chanting in an ancient language. Livia bucked and twisted, jerking around where she lay trying to free herself, trying to reach her magic, whatever was left…whatever had been replenished,
"Oh no you don't," Seth hissed, grabbing her harshly with a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her forward, her left shoulder thudding painfully onto the ground. Another Siphoner stilled her flailing feet and the third gripped her right arm and shoulder, tearing the shirt to reveal a section of skin,
"No! No…Stop! Please…there…there has to be another way. Stop-Stop…please!" She couldn't help but cry out…she couldn't help but plead…hopelessness and helplessness drowning away any pride and stubbornness. The chanting ceased to stop, and the arms still held her firm even as she struggled with all her limited strength…no magic was available to her. She felt prone, she felt naked and weak and useless.
Livia couldn't see, only the crimson flames danced before her eyes, a blindingly bright vision. Livia could only hear the monotonous chanting reach its crescendo as Jennifer placed the spelled brand on its mark. Livia couldn't remember the pain, even as she felt it…she could hear the sizzle of the flesh as perverse and foreign magic invaded her body, piercing into a part of her that she couldn't dream of comprehending. The scream she let out echoed soundlessly in her ears…it was guttural, visceral and cut short as she tried to pull in a breath of air…as she tried to convince herself she was still herself—still herself and alive. The Siphoners let her go and Livia writhed on the dirt floor, trying to get her knees underneath her again, trying to escape the agony erupting from the brand, the ground's pressure on the wound too much to bear. The pain was excruciating…it wasn't only the pain of a burn…it was the pain of broken magic, an untethered spell.
She felt animalistic, as she panted there slowly realizing that she was still very much herself, her mind was still her own…even as it danced between desperation, fear, panic, and pain…but not for long. Livia saw the Siphoners whispering among themselves, deciding who would take on the second half of the spell. Snippets of conversation blew across with the sudden wind…a winter storm closing in perhaps or just a change in the weather, Livia strained to hear over her own labored breathing the fresh wound on her shoulder stinging harshly at the open air,
"…dangerous for you…"
"…I'm more powerful…"
"…in your dreams tubby…"
"…your days are numbered as it is…"
"…drink too much…"
"—Enough!" Seth shouted, "I'll take it on…it's only fair. Jennifer started this whole thing; I'll end it and then we will be limitless in our magic!" The crowd roared with approval and excitement as a second circle was made, a different though equally ancient chanting suddenly feeling the air. Livia could see the brand being heated, the metal turning slowly red-hot. She couldn't take it…she couldn't live like this, trapped…a mindless puppet. Livia needed to escape…she needed help; she needed the Bats…she may even need Constantine. But they weren't there. They were out of reach.
Time seemed to warp…slowing down around Livia as she tried to center herself. Tried to ignore her trembling pain, the fear, the desperation. She delved deep within herself, pushing into the absence of her reserves, forcing herself past them, pushing to the depths she had yet to touch…the darker, deeper, depths of her power that wasn't necessarily her own. A well of magic older than time itself, a magical reserve she'd only dipped a toe within…a reserve she equally desired as she did fear it. A reserve that was supposedly hers.
Save me. Livia thought desperately, helplessly within herself…to herself.
Livia could see in her mind's eye as the brand began its descent downwards, towards Seth's braced forearm, the jeering grin and glinting satisfaction in his hazel eyes enough to make Livia's skin crawl even as she fell deeper within herself, reaching, grasping desperately for anything that resembled power. Livia was pulled, yanked, deeper within herself, to a blank blackness, to a painless, emotionless nothingness. A pitch black depth that wasn't cognizant of anything…unaware of the world, the dimension?…around her…only hearing a voice, a familiar hissing whisper right at her ear—or within herself?—right as Livia was lost to endarkened oblivion,
"I thought you'd never ask."
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! Certainly a bit intense and quite a cliffhanger!
With Darren's section, I actually had to add to it after including the "extra" chapter before this week's update, just based on how it ended and what happened with Tim's section there. I also felt that the distinction between coping and doing something for enjoyment/happiness was important for Darren to have. And it is something that he generally knows, I mean he's done the goofy drawings in his notebook, the drawings of Titus/Ace the dog, and the caricature of Mr. Fredricks...but he typically draws to get something out of his mind, to destress or free himself from a downward spiral and Barbara just wants him to know that it's okay to be happy while drawing it's not something that has to be done only when he's feeling bad or weighed down by the past. I also wanted to give another piece to the issues Darren was facing with Mr. Fredricks. I wanted to include a more detailed scene/experience but it didn't fit in with this chapter though may be present in a future chapter, I'm not sure yet, and I think this little nugget of information is enough to ease the readers' minds as well as Dick and Barbaras'.
Livia's section...hmmm...I definitely enjoyed writing the second half of it more than the first. I don't know if it seemed out of character for Livia to actually go to the crime scene the way she did but I need a catalyst/segue to get her into that ritual with the Siphoners. Jennifer being a Siphoner herself was borne from the fact that she was just there, a hanging loose end in this series. And leaving her as a red herring just didn't feel right or necessary when I built up and continued with that sensation Livia experienced when near her. Originally she was going to be a hunter like Klarion suggested back in Nobody's Darkness, but then I felt it was too on the nose and it wouldn't make sense for Jennifer to integrate herself into Livia's life when she could just hunt her down/kill her. With Jennifer and the Siphoners playing the long-con and also just the reveal of how unhinged Jennifer and the rest of that Siphoner group seemed, it made more sense as to why she wanted to get close to Livia and attempt to insert herself into her life as well as mess around with her life. While it might have seemed like all of Klarion's doing, it wasn't entirely him either.
Now, the idea of Siphoners did come from the Vampire Diaries, The Originals, and the Legacies tv series, but with a twist. They're seen as an oddity in a way within that universe but I feel they never really considered how "other" Siphoners could be perceived in a world where for witches, magic was easily attainable. I mean in TVD you see it with Kai but Kai's behavior was also a product of his own mental condition as well as his family's treatment of him (which adds to my point and I'm also not justifying anything he's done in that series [tho omg I LOVE his actor!]). And also with the Heretics and even the Saltzman twins in The Legacies show. But it's also not a central focus. In general, my idea for this universe's Siphoners is the concept of how being born into a magical family but not having an outright magical ability, in essence, sort of like a Squib from the Harry Potter series, can be entirely ostracizing. So my interpretation, of at least this group or "cult" of Siphoners is those who are embittered by their treatment and inability to utilize their own source of magic. To be part of this magical human race but unable to actually obtain or use the gifts that should be granted to that group of people. I hope that makes sense. I definitely enjoyed writing that section even if it was emotionally trying with Livia's experience throughout it.
As always, if you have any questions, concerns or comments, please please please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!