Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King Alan Grant (e book reader pc txt) 📖

of justice appeared, flaming, in his hand. There was a bright metal shield strapped to his left forearm.

He saw his foe dad in skins, his bull's head and horns held high. Peter no longer saw him as a fiend from hell, only a man, an evil man whose power was awesome but not total.

Peter took a deep, metaphorical breath . . . and charged.

"You don't really expect me to drop everything and drive out of town with someone I don't even know?"

There was incredulity in Jenny Ayles's voice. She stood in the half-open doorway of the apartment she shared with two other young women, staring at the stranger whose windswept platinum hair tangled around her pretty face.

Cassandra had expected to be greeted this way. She herself would have reacted no differently. She sought for the words to convince Jenny of the rightness of her cause.

Within an hour of emerging from her coma, Cassandra had walked out of the hospital, Dr. Clay Valerian's dire warnings ringing in her ears.

"We haven't finished your tests," he protested. "There could be something serious!"

But Cassandra felt fine, at least physically. Inside, she was deeply afraid of what she knew she had to do. But she forced herself to sign the treatment waiver the nurse held in front of her, reclaimed her own clothing, and hurried out into the street.

She had just enough money in her pocketbook to cover the cab fare to her apartment. Her thoughts raced urgently as the taxi driver sped through the streets. People were already starting to gather for the street party; it wasn't dark yet, and their masquerade costumes made them stand out like sore thumbs.

Halloween, she thought, feeling a stab of pity for the would-be partygoers, the day the Stone King will destroy the world! And I might be the only person who can stop him. . . .

The solution had come to her in those confused minutes that followed her awakening. The Stone King was really Peter Glaston, possessed by a spirit stronger than himself. But if Glaston's mind still survived, it should be possible to make contact and urge him to throw off the mental shackles that bound him.

And what better person to do it than the girl Peter loved?

Batman had told her and the commissioner about Jenny Ayles, the possessed man's girlfriend. Cassandra had no idea where Batman might be. And no doubt Commissioner Gordon would have his hands full with policing the street party. This was something Cassandra would have to do alone.

She had found Jenny's address in the telephone directory and decided to have a quick shower and change of clothing before heading over there. She'd switched on her radio and stood soaping herself in the shower's stinging jets as she listened to the news of the mayhem that had befallen the world.

From Ohio's Serpent Mound to Uluru, Ayers Rock, in the middle of the Australian outback, the same horrifying picture was presented. Strange energies had erupted from every sacred site, bringing death and destruction to the immediate vicinity. Emergency and military teams had been despatched to back up the two dozen or so Justice League heroes who, thanks to Batman's warning, were already directing rescue and damage control exercises.

After the first violent outpourings, the energy levels seemed to have stabilized.

At least it's not getting any worse, Cassandra thought, then added, Yet.

She'd called another cab, then barely had time to towel-dry her hair before she heard the driver honking his horn down on the street.

Her driver was a young eastern European immigrant who seemed to speak little English but who kept up a deprecatory commentary on the journey in his own language. Cassandra was surprised to see the growing crowds, many in fancy dress or scary Halloween masks. Didn't they listen to the news? Didn't they know the world was facing a crisis and the Justice League's most powerful members were missing in action? How could they even think of partying when they, and the planet itself, were skirting so close to doom?

Perhaps it was because the thought of impending disaster was so hard to accept. The street party filled some psychological need–as if it was easier for people to bury their heads in the sand, to pretend that if they acted normally, then everything would soon return to normal.

Cassandra was one of the few who knew that wasn't the case. She breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when she discovered Jenny at home.

A sea mist had poured into Marlbuck Point overnight, and failed to lift in the morning. Jenny and Jamie Stewart had sat around for hours twiddling their thumbs before Hamish had sent them home rather than muddy up the dig. Besides, it would save him the expense of an afternoon's wages.

Jenny started to close the door–she'd had enough from the press, from strangers badgering her. The last thing she needed was to head off who knows where with a woman she didn't know, someone who wasn't even making any sense.

"It's Peter," Cassandra said with grim finality.

It was the last thing she'd wanted to say. She knew exactly how Jenny would react: shock, grief, a blade cutting at an open wound. Cassandra could literally feel the chill that swept through the girl.

"Peter?" Jenny whispered.

Cassandra apologized for her bluntness, but there really had been no other way to make Jenny listen. She started to give a hurried explanation of what had happened, but Jenny stopped her almost at once.

"You're saying Peter didn't kill Professor Mills?" The relief in the girl's voice was unmistakeable. "It was this . . . spirit that's possessed him?"

"That's what the Batman told me. And as far as I can judge, he's right." Cassandra glanced at her wrist, at the elegant, old-fashioned watch that had once belonged to her grandmother. "We don't have much time. Do you think we can talk while we travel? I have a cab waiting."

Jenny pulled a leather jacket from the hall-stand inside the door. "My car's not very passenger friendly," she confessed,