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“I couldn’t stop it”
Bruce doesn’t look up from the screen. The news reports of the Graysons’ deaths repeat on a loop.
More importantly, there are the actual reports. The Order keeps careful watch for the known demon families, and the three harab demons are – were – hard to miss.
“I didn’t even know it was about to happen till the curse hit, and then it was all I could do to keep it from claiming the child.”
“That was all anyone could do” Alfred assures him.
The Domovoi has been with the Waynes long before the sole survivor of the family joined took up the Exorcist’s mantle. He knows that in this case none of his assurances will do much good. He offers them anyway.
“A curse like that… There’s no redirecting it or blocking it. Once the word was spoken, the Graysons were doomed.”
Bruce sighs. “How’s the boy doing?”
“As well as can be expected” Alfred shrugs.
“Does he know? I didn’t get into details, when I took him away.”
“I had that impression, yes.”
Bruce has the decency to look sheepish. “I had to get him away, Alfred. There was no telling what whoever cast the curse would do once they realized it didn’t get him. There wasn’t time to explain. And once the local police got involved…”
Alfred wants to argue, but can’t. Honestly, even in a city with a marginally safe social support system and CPS, a newly orphaned demon will be at too high a risk.
In Gotham? If whoever killed the coven didn’t come to finish the job, the child would be sold to the highest bidder.
A harab demon wouldn’t be at as high a demand as, say, an incubus, but still, there are only too many who would want to get their hands on him.
A demon herald of death could be put to too many uses, none of which would be kind to the child.
“Do you think he knows?” Bruce asks again. “That I’m a…”
He indicates the Cave, the array of exorcists’ tools and weaponry.
“I have little doubt he does. Harabs tend to be very sensitive to atmosphere. He will have understood the moment he set foot in the house that this is the domain of one of the Order.”
“He didn’t seem afraid.”
That could mean that the child sensed Bruce meant him no harm. Or, given the situation… It could mean the child no longer cared what happened to him. Bruce knows the feeling only too well.
“Maybe you should talk to him” he suggests.
This is out of his depth. Considerably so, in fact.
He knows little enough about human children. About demon children…
Sure, he knows the spells to bind them, the wards to keep them out, the words to banish them. But to look after one…
Someone has to.
The Graysons are a well-documented clan. There are few, but they are strong. Unfortunately, they are also well-spread out.
A necessity for survival in the days the Hunt was strong, but in this case, unfortunate.
There’s no coven member on this side of the ocean to take in the child, guard him, guide him. It will take them too long to reach him, even were one ready to risk it.
The child doesn’t have that kind of time. A demon child this young, alone… No. without a coven to shield him, the boy is doomed. And if a harab coven will not arrive in time…
“You are thinking of it, aren’t you, Master Bruce” Alfred’s tone is resigned, but there isn’t quite as much disapproval as there usually is when Bruce plans something.
The domovoi, tasked with keeping his family safe, has never approved of his employer/son’s career choice.
An Exorcist is never going to be safe. Even one as skilled as Bruce Wayne – Order Name Batman – is.
“The boy needs a home.” Alfred sighs. “I suggest you speak to the…master of the Circus first. For all we know, there might have been arrangements made.”
Bruce nods.
Now, that is a conversation he can handle. Unlike the one awaiting. He will need to talk to the child and soon, but… But not right now. Not till he has decided what to do.
………………………………
Haly is human. And no mage. That much is obvious at first glance.
Bruce is there as Batman, clad in the Exorcist’s dark mantle and armour. There is no mistaking who he is and why he has arrived.
To the man’s credit, he doesn’t show how terrified he is – not too plainly, at any rate.
“They were good people” he declares.
He doesn’t quite dare to meet Batman’s eyes, but it is simple fear rather than falsehood that causes the evasion. It is not always safe to meet an exorcist’s gaze. You never know what you might see in there.
“We never… There was never any of…any of the kind of things you look into. They were acrobats, and good at it. Was all. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I know.”
They have been tracking the coven. The Graysons had never made much of an effort to hide. Some harabs are like that, just like some humans.
Born for the spotlight. Born to fly.
As far as anyone was concerned, as far as any of their activities were concerned, the Graysons were a very skilled little family business of acrobats and performers.
“They were Earth-Born. Not Haunters. I wouldn’t have that kind in my troupe”
Haly is afraid, and no doubt with good reason. Even if the man has done nothing wrong, it’s hardly the most accepted thing to have demons among your charges. Not the ones that are not being exhibited in freak shows.
“A curse killed them” Bruce points out what they both already know.
A curse strong enough to slay two harabs at once, a curse that would have slain three if the child had not hung back merely by accident, if there had not been an exorcist present to shield the child from backlash.
That is not the kind of thing an annoyed hedge-mage could summon up. Whoever was responsible…they planned it out. And they had power. More to the point…
Haly knew. Or suspected.
Bruce supposes he can easily threaten the man into revealing everything. The circus owner has the look of a man who is more kind than brave.
But… Well.
Bruce has already seen two ogres among the strong men, and a knife thrower who is almost certainly a minor djinn.
He doesn’t want to spook Haly – or anyone else at the circus, for that matter – into casting them out.
It has become easier for the non-human denizens to blend in these days. Even the Order is not as bigoted as it once was, even welcoming in non-humans as its own members. One of Bruce’s favourite teachers was a kelpie.
But all the same, for some who cannot or will not blend in properly, it is still the travelling shows that are called home.
At least Haly’s seems to treat them decently enough, instead of playing freakshow.
They have a good thing going. Bruce has no intention of being the one who spoilt that haven. There are all too few remaining.
“I think it was Zucco” Haly says, and the words seem carefully rehearsed.
Maybe it could be that the man has been preparing for this interview - it was only to expected one of the Order would turn up to investigate, sooner or later – since morning and practicing delivering the report.
Nervous people sometimes do that, giving the air of fakeness to even the most sincere eyewitness report. But in this case…
“He runs a protection racket of a sort. You know. Runes and all.” Haly continues “I guess maybe you can look into it, but I’m pretty sure he keeps it on just the right side of legal. Anyway…he asked me to pay. I didn’t. I… I didn’t expect he would… Not something this extreme.”
Bruce nods. It sounds genuine enough. The man’s tone of regret, at least, is completely unfeigned.
He had no intention of putting the Graysons in the line of fire. Probably never expected it. Likely considered Zucco would go for one of the human performers, if at all.
But apparently the sorcerer decided to go for the jackpot. Good for intimidation value as well.
Once word gets around – and word of this kind always gets around – no one is going to risk getting on the bad side of the sorcerer who took down two harabs. All the same…
Well. He will look into it.
“And the boy?” Bruce knows pretty much what the answer will be, but he has to ask.
Haly’s kindly, chubby, face contorts for a moment. “God knows I want to keep him. Little Dickie… He’s one of our kids. I don’t want to leave one of mine alone, especially like this… But…”
He winces, hating to voice what he has no choice but to admit.
“He is a harab demon. A death herald. I…. If there was anyone, anyone who could raise him, guide him…But they were the only ones. And with them gone…”
Obviously.
A covenless demon child is always a problem, but especially so when you are talking about a powerful species.
A harab cannot be left to find his own way. The danger is just too high.
Even Haly has to accept it, for the sake of the rest of his troupe if nothing else. Bruce can see the man is genuinely torn.
“I know what the sanctuaries are like, God, I hate to think of little Dickie in one of those places… But… We can’t… If he was only a little older, old enough to have been taught at least a little…”
Bruce too, knows what sanctuaries are like, in Gotham. He has been trying to better it. Given time, he knows he can do it. But not in time. Not in time to help the little acrobat.
No. there is honestly just one option Bruce can take, only one option that will let him sleep at night.
“There’s no harm in him” Haly hastens to assure “I swear. They were good people, John and Mary, and they raised that boy right. He’s a sweet kid, a good kid.”
“But a kid who will need someone to guide him. Someone to teach him to use his powers.”
“You know sanctuaries don’t really do it right.”
Bruce nods. Sanctuaries can teach the basics. But rarely enough. And rarely with enough care.
It is little wonder that most of those who emerge from sanctuaries find themselves banished to the netherworld sooner than later.
“I know someone who can.”
Haly blinks up at him. He has heard the words, but clearly has trouble believing it. Bruce can understand. It is not the standard procedure, after all.
“He’s… He’s a kid” the man’s voice takes on a note of pleading “He hasn’t come into powers yet. Truly, I swear it. Swear upon my name. He isn’t hiding his powers, he’s just a kid. Don’t make him, please don’t, he’s too young-“
“I’m not going to bind him!”
Damn. Of course that’s the first assumption that would be made.
An exorcist claiming he will take responsibility for a newly covenless demon? Duh. No wonder the man assumed the worst.
Bruce winces at the possibility the child might have assumed the same thing, after all. God, please let Alfred handle that conversation better than I’m handling this.
Haly looks doubtful. Can’t blame him.
“I swear it” Bruce lets the words hold power, channels will into them as he speaks. “I swear upon my mantle that I will arrange for Dick Grayson, harab, covenless, to be taken in as a Ward by one who can guard and guide him.”
Haly stares. “You… You mean it. You actually mean it.”
“I should hope so, given I’ve just sworn it upon my mantle.”
“…why?”
A fair enough question. And one Batman cannot answer. “I have my reasons. And no, none of them involve using the child or bringing harm upon him.”
Haly doesn’t believe, not quite. But he obviously wants to.
“I suppose you have the Graysons’ papers in order? I mean the ones they have to show the human authorities?”
He nods.
“Have them ready to be presented. Tomorrow, a Gotham citizen – Bruce Wayne – or someone acting for him will arrive. The government red tape will be taken care of at his end. Have the Graysons’ belongings be ready for him to take. He will be the one to officially foster the child.”
There are certain advantages to just how much Gotham’s foster care system sucks. He may as well use it for good, for a change.
And…well, probably just as well that the Circus is just passing by, with little time to get more than basic relevant knowledge of the city and its people.
Or Haly may have second thoughts about Brucie Wayne being a fit agent to foster a young harab – hell, Brucie, if he was real, shouldn’t be trusted to foster a freaking kitten, forget a whole new demon child.
He is almost out of the door when Haly makes a tentative sound. Batman turns back.
The chubby ringmaster looks like he is locked in a battle against himself. If he didn’t know better, Bruce might have thought the man is possessed and struggling against the demon for his life.
Finally, one side manages to win. Batman waits to see which one it is.
“The Court might have an interest in him.”
“The Owls” Bruce says the words like a curse, which it is, in effect.
The Court of Owls.
Too slippery an opponent, with too many connections in too many places. Sooner or later, he knows, it will come to direct confrontation. But as of now, they are stuck playing these games with each other.
"The boy. They… It may not have been Zucco.”
Now. That is interesting. And solves the puzzle of why a comparatively small-time mage like Zucco would choose to throw down against harabs.
After all, it is only a coincidence that there is no adult member of the coven present to take revenge.
For all Zucco knew for sure, an entire coven might have descended on him in a matter of days, craving vengeance that even the Order could not deny them. But the Court, of course, would have no such hesitation…
“Zucco likely cast the curse. But…”
Bruce nods. He knows what it means. The Court rarely acts directly. Rarely sends their Talon out, not unless it is absolutely unavoidable.
Their games are better played in the shadows. Better played through catspaws. Who knows, Zucco might even be kidding himself that it is all his own idea, his own game.
“And the Court would be interested because…”
Haly lowers his eyes. “You… You have to understand…This started long ago. A very long time ago. I… much before I took charge. One of the earlier Halys… Got tangled with the Court. It was agreed…agreed the Court could have their pick once every generation.”
Bruce has to struggle to keep his expression steady. “And this has been going on?”
“They only take one. One child every generation. They swear they will not kill. They swear they will keep the child as their own.”
“And you know how the Court plays with words.”
Haly nods, miserably. That promise is, after all, mere tripe to soothe the conscience of those who ‘honour’ the arrangement.
The Order is aware of the Court’s games. Bruce has only too clear an idea what is done to the children claimed as tribute each generation.
“But this time, when your turn came to give tribute…”
“I couldn’t” the ringmaster looks down. “I couldn’t just let them… They always take kids. Little kids. The best acrobats we got. I couldn’t keep doing it. I figured… It’s been so long. I figured, whatever it is that my ancestor owed them… I figured we had paid them enough blood for it to be paid off in whole.”
Bruce sighs. “Haly. A debt to the Owls is never paid off. Not while there is anyone they can keep collecting from.”
“Yes… I guess they showed us, after all.”
“The best acrobats, you said” Batman returns to the matter at hand. “So this time the choice would have been Dick Grayson?
” “If I had allowed them the choice.”
“Hmm…”
The Court plays by its own rules. But those rules, they stick by with a temerity that is almost that of the demons they try to imitate.
Having made their choice – having chosen Dick Grayson and being denied him – the Court will not simply cut their losses and retreat. But if he stakes the claim first… He will have to give this some consideration…
“You swore” Haly reminds him. “You swore upon your mantle that the boy will be guarded, guided. You can’t go back on it.”
“I won’t”
That much is plain. Even without any humane consideration, it is necessary to prevent a young harab from falling into the Court’s clutches.
He shudders to think what the Court might do with a Talon formed from that. He has no intention of finding out.
“The Owls will not have young Grayson”
…………………………….
That is a promise he fights to keep with his every breath over the following months.
And despite his best efforts to keep the child safe, Dick Grayson is at his side throughout.
Child or not, powerless or not, a harab who has been torn by death this young… He is not going to be able to wait in the sidelines.
The Court fights. They have no intention of letting go of their prize so easily.
It has been a long time since one of the Order clashed with them.
They may have forgotten what that truly means. Perhaps Bruce has, as well. The outcome, perhaps, is only to be expected.
The Court scatters. Bruce knows better than to fool himself that he has destroyed them.
They will regroup. They will be back. And Batman will be ready for them.
They do not take Tony Zucco with them when they flee. He has failed. They have no more use for him.
Zucco tries to run, tries to fight. But it inevitably ends with a confrontation late one night, it ends with Zucco lying on a rooftop under a clouded night sky, looking up and pleading to them.
It ends with a young harab standing over the one who took his family from him.
Dick looks at Batman. His eyes glow blue. Bruce is not sure whether he is waiting for permission or for resistance. Bruce is not sure which option will help. If any will help.
Bruce steps back. He does not drop his gaze from the glowing eyes of the child. His child.
“The choice is yours.”
“You mean it?” Dick’s voice is still a child’s. still barely believing. “You won’t…”
“I won’t stop you, whatever you choose. It is your choice to make.”
“You will let me?”
“You are within your rights to kill him, if you choose. He killed your Coven. You are owed blood vengeance. If you choose to take it.”
Dick looks at him, then at the cowering Zucco. All of them know what this means. All of them know what Dick can do.
Yes, he is not at full power yet, but he has more than enough to destroy the human.
At one touch from the death demon, Zucco’s body will begin to rot from inside out.
Dick’s inexperience and limited power will actually increase Zucco’s suffering, making it take so much longer to end it.
Bruce meant what he said. If Dick chooses, if this is what he truly needs to heal… he will let him.
He will have to, for reasons no Coven or Order will understand.
He prays, though, in a way he never has since a night in an alley so many years ago. He prays Dick will make the right choice.
The kind of choice that will let him walk out of his own dark alley, in a way Bruce has never been able to.
“Choose what your parents would have wanted”
Dick hesitates. His hand is poised over Zucco’s forehead, only an inch between the man and inevitable death.
Bruce wonders whether it was that sentence which tipped the scale.
Dick’s eyes are filled with tears. He makes no move to hide them. There is no more room for games.
Only for the choice to be made.
One long moment since, it is made.
Dick Grayson gets to his feet. Steps away. Away from Zucco.
“Dick?”
He doesn’t glance back at Bruce. Nor at Zucco. The young demon’s eyes are fixed on something on the horizon, something neither human can see.
“He isn’t worth it.”
The choice is made.
…………………………………..
Not much later, Batman begins to appear with a young apprentice exorcist beside him, one clad in a bright red-yellow-green costume. Mantle. Whatever you call it.
Order Name Robin.
If people notice that Robin’s eyes are a bit too blue, a bit too bright, to be human… They choose not to comment.