Jason Blood in the Cat-Tales Universe from Lady Dien

After all, in the course of years of midnight ramblings, one generally put a paw or two onto at least every building worth mentioning. This one was plenty large, nicely situated, suitably large-of-rooftop; but again, she couldn’t remember ever dashing across it in a thrilling chase scene, bag of Tiffany’s take-out (read: several thousand dollars' worth of jewelry) safely in hand, with grim vigilante on one’s trail.

"Protection spells. Nothing too strong, just enough to… deter Gotham’s night-crowd," the man accompanying her muttered as he got out of the car, juggling a grocery bag and a cup of coffee. She smiled in amusement.

"Need help with those, Jason?"

He shot her an infinitely disdainful look, setting the bag down on the pavement of the alley and the coffee on the car roof. He'd insisted they stop off at a little all-night convenience/grocery and a 24-hour Starbucks on the way over, much to her amusement; now he was digging things out of the bag and putting them in the pockets of his re-appropriated coat.

"What…" she started to ask, taking a curious step forward to inspect the contents of the bags.

"Ingredients," he muttered, slipping a small can of Morton’s salt inside the jacket. She felt her eyebrows raise.

"Going to bake them to death, are we?"

He gave her another dirty look. She smiled back innocently.

"For your information," he said as he shoved the empty bag back into the car and shut the door, "salt has many properties that make it antagonistic to magic. Hawthorne is better, but 'Ed’s Meat and Liquor, 24/7, 365 Days a Year,' was woefully understocked in that basic necessity."

She grinned, leaning against the windshield. "And the caramel macchiato fudge coffee and chocolate covered biscotti?"

"Ideally one should have sugar in the bloodstream before any serious casting. Magic is fairly draining to the body; sugar provides fuel and helps cushion the shock."

Selina smirked. "The caffeine’s necessary too, of course."

"Of course," he agreed with a perfectly straight face, and grabbed his coffee from the car’s roof, setting off for the building’s entrance. Selina rolled her eyes and followed, casting an appraising gaze upwards as they went.

"Game plan, Jason?" she asked, politely, since it was sort of his show.

"We enter. We find Lyle. I have words with her," he said tersely.

"Mmm. We have words with her, you mean, but what I was asking is, are we going to be waltzing through the front door or trying a bit of subtlety?"

"If by ‘subtlety' you mean rooftop escapades, we're going to be entering at ground level. But that’s not to say we'll use the front door. Or, indeed, any door," Jason murmured, stopping to look up at the building himself. "Yes…. yes, I think that would be best," he said, then stepped out from the alley onto the street proper.

"In your job description to be cryptic, isn’t it?" Selina muttered as she followed, glancing around for possible opposition. But the street was oddly empty-- oddly, because Gotham never slept, even at 2 a.m. Yet traffic was noticeably thin, and aside from an occasional bum slumped against a building, the sidewalk was clear.

Jason was standing before the wall, still some distance from the penthouse’s glassy lobby door, and tapping inquisitively at the cement molding. He appeared to be listening for something, and moved a few steps to the right to repeat the process. Catwoman didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she did glance up in the interests of scouting out another way in, should Jason give in and announce that, no, there were no “secret passages” leading inside.

Instead, he pulled out some of the purchases he’d made at the minimart. Selina watched silently as he sprinkled what looked suspiciously like cinnamon--yes, cinnamon, the good smelling spice you put in cookies-- onto the building wall. Then he brought out a small bottle of mint extract, and daubed a few drops onto the wall on top of the dusting of cinnamon. When Jason put the cinnamon and mint away and pulled out a jar of minced garlic, Selina gave up on self-restraint.

"Jason, no offense to the great worker of the occult and all, but are you sure this is magic, and if so, what episode of Essence of Emeril is it from? Because I must have forgotten to tape 'How to mix a perfect magical gumbo using the wall of a Gotham skyscraper.'"

Jason sighed and only bothered with half a glare in her direction, unscrewing the lid of the jar of garlic. "Herbs have always been a large part of magickal ritual, Selina, and while I’d prefer not to use ones that came from a supermarket, I didn’t feel like going back to my apartment and fetching something more stereotypically 'witchy.' Sorry to disappoint."

Catwoman grinned in amusement and slight skepticism as he added red food coloring to the garlic. "Still looks like you're making Aunt Dorothy’s secret turkey sauce or something."

He shook his head slightly and used his fingertips to apply the red-dyed garlic to the wall, in shapes that looked at least vaguely magical. "Futhark runes," he explained, as if reading her question. "This is Raidho, a rune of travel and change… this one is Ehwaz, also symbolising transportation. And this is Thurisaz, a sign of destructive power, directed and channeled. Now…."

Jason stepped back and put the garlic away, his face taking on an abstract concentration as he rested his fingertips on the wall. He started speaking, softly; what words Selina could pick out weren’t English. "…pateo… via… per ignis… aperio ostium… abrio… ianuam…"

And the wall melted.

Catwoman did a double take, eyes following the concrete (as solid as any she'd ever grabbed onto for a handhold, or leapt from) as it dribbled down easily around Jason’s fingers, like liquefied butter. Jason was smiling ever-so-slightly at her. "After you," he said politely, and gestured for her to go through the oozy wall.

Selina took a deep breath. Not that she didn’t trust Jason. Not that she didn’t think he wasn’t competent at what he did. But, jeez, it was stone, all right; stone that had been quite quite solid just a few moments before, stone that just might decide to be solid again while she was inside it. She chewed her lower lip for half a second and reached out a hand towards the localized waterfall of stone.

Felt like sticking your fingers into pudding. She cast a quick glance at Jason, halfway ready to suggest that he could go this way, she'd take the rooftop and meet him inside; but his face stopped her. Very polite and blandly expressionless and, damn him, amused. Really really amused, his eyes dancing with it. Selina stuck her tongue out at him, took another deep breath, and stepped into the wall.

She was glad for that extra air, because while the… the pudding… moved around her, she didn’t think it was breathable. It certainly wasn’t transparent, and she stood still, completely surrounded by stone, and told herself she'd hit Jason once she could find him.

The hand that grabbed her own almost made her jump, but it was Jason coming from behind her, and he seemed to know where he was going. They went… through… with the walls melting around them at every movement. There was no sense of direction, at least for Selina; past the first few steps it felt more like being underwater, but with no light to show you where the surface lay. Only the pressure of fathoms squeezing in on you--

And then there was air and light and color again, and Catwoman found herself gasping for breath and glaring around for Jason Blood, whom she was going to hit. He was brushing at the front of his jacket and looking around in an unconcerned fashion, as if one walked through walls on a regular basis. Selina straightened up and prepared a nicely stinging rebuke-- then stopped and looked around. They were in a hallway, thick carpet on the floor and nice paintings on the walls, but what really gave her pause was the window. Or rather, the view out the window.

"We're not in the lobby, are we Jason."

"No, of course not. Not much of a shortcut if it only takes you through a wall. We went up as well."

"How far up?"

Jason shrugged. "Twelve or thirteen stories. Not exactly sure. The building didn’t seem to be in a very specific mood."

"The-- I-- okay." Selina rubbed at the bridge of her nose and forced a smile. "Okay. Where next, mister-has-no-need-for-elevators?"

"Down the hall, I suppose. And if you could, keep your voice down. I think we're on the same floor as Lyle."

She spared him another glare. Magic was one thing, but if he was going to start telling her-- her, Catwoman-- how to be stealthy, they were going to have to have a little talk. With the whip as conversation partner. 'Keep your voice down,' indeed.

The suffocating-joyride-through-the-walls had dropped them off in this hallway, empty and quiet, and Selina looked around automatically for the sort of security measures a penthouse would have. Coming in through their rather unconventional route had meant she'd not needed to take out the expensive alarm system that decorated the window, and there didn’t seem to be any cameras, or motion detectors…

Catwoman and Jason Blood moved down the hallway towards the main room. As they neared the hall’s end, voices could be heard in soft conversation, somewhere in the room beyond. As one, they stopped to listen, and try and judge location and situation.

"…but you're tired, my lady. You need to rest, and recover your strength-- the breaking of the mirrors cost you…"

"It did not cost me that much. You make me sound weak." The voice was the one from the mirrors-- but weaker, softer, not quite as sure of itself. One could almost hear a tremble in it. "And the Leabhar Seun needs to be regained, Denis. I cannot impress on you how important it is that I recover it-- with Blaise holding the book, all Hell could have access to… to the gates of Avalon… and--"

"I know, Lyle, but you're just not up to it right now. Let me try and find him; I’ll get the book back, I promise."

"No! Denis, I’ll not risk you confronting him alone. He is too dangerous. His demon is too dangerous. I will not send you into that sort of danger. Besides, I lost the book… it is only right that I--"

"You only lost it because of that interfering bitch in purple," growled the man’s voice. "Let me deal with her, at least-- she hurt you, Lyle--"

"Deal with me, huh? Well, here I am; let’s see if you can walk the walk, Denis," Catwoman said mockingly as she stepped out from the cover of the corner, whip in one hand. She and Jason had heard enough-- now came payback.

Denis Rochester was short and slim and smooth-faced, looking too young to be the head of his own multi-million dollar business; but youth’s agility served him in good stead as he jumped half-a-foot into the air at her words.

"You! You're-- here-- how did you--"

"We're both here," Jason said calmly, stepping out beside her. "Maybe you ought to learn better wards, Mr. Rochester. In the future. For now, you'll step aside-- my business is with the Lady."

Rochester’s mouth set in a firm line, and despite his unassuming physical presence, there was something in his brown eyes that spoke of a fire. "Do you honestly think I’ll let you harm my Lady further, Blood? I may or may not be your equal in the arts-- yet-- but I’ll die before you'll touch her. Onfhadh!" His hand shot out in their direction, fingers spread wide.

Jason shoved at her shoulder, and Selina took it as the quick way of saying, 'ducking would be a good idea right now.' As she dropped to the floor, she felt a wave of something pass over her, and heard a crunching thud as whatever-it-was hit the wall behind them. A split-second glance behind her revealed there was now a large dent in the plaster of the wall, comparable to what might be produced by Killer Croc charging it with his head and shoulders.

Jason was muttering under his breath, digging out the salt with one hand, and Selina shifted her grip on the whip’s handle, green eyes blazing as she looked for their enemy. He had his hands raised in some arcane gesture or another, opened his mouth to work a spell. Before Jason could do whatever it was he was about to with the salt, or Rochester could finish his chant, the deafening crack of a bullwhip filled the air. Rochester’s words were cut off by his yelp of pain, as he clutched at his hand where the leather had left a burning welt.

Selina straightened and hissed, "There’s more where that came from, kid. Want to try again?" Beside her, Jason had a handful of salt ready and a look that boded poorly for Rochester, should he want to keep fighting.

"Denis, stop it, now," came the woman’s voice. "All of you-- stop this! No more violence. Not tonight."

"Fine words, Lyle," snapped Jason, eyes cold. "You started this tonight by setting up a trap and toying with my mind-- now you want to play nice?"

Catwoman looked around for Lyle, a task made more difficult by the fact that she was also not taking her eyes off of Rochester, and finally found the object of their search. A woman-- no, a girl, she couldn’t be more than eighteen, if she was a day-- half-standing in front of a couch, using the armrest for support. Her petite, slender form was garbed in flare jeans and a Calvin Klein T-shirt, and her nails had pink polish, and there was a clip with a butterfly holding her straight blonde hair back from her too-young face.

She didn’t much resemble either a powerful sorceress or the owner of the disembodied voice that had taken Jason apart earlier.

"No more fighting," she whispered, and dropped back onto the couch. Rochester shot both of them a deeply reproachful and accusing look, then darted to her side. "Do you need water, Lyle? I can--"

"I’m fine, Denis. Let me breathe, please."

Catwoman shot Jason a look to get a feel for the situation. So this wasn’t the psychotic witch with flowing sleeves and fingers-crackling-with-lightning she'd halfway been expecting; where did they go from here? But Jason’s gaze was fixed, stonily, on the girl on the couch, and he appeared neither surprised nor moved by the sight of Lyle.

The girl sat up, and Selina noticed another thing about her; Lyle was blind, if the milky white of her eyes was any indication. Her gaze was focused somewhere in front of Jason’s feet.

"I…. did not think you would… find me so soon, Blood," she said quietly. Jason snorted.

"No, I don’t suppose you did. I imagine that at this point in the evening’s proceedings, I was supposed to be curled up in a ball somewhere losing my mind. So very sorry to disappoint you."

Lyle lifted her chin somewhat. "Your friend. The woman. She is here too?"

"Check," Selina said dryly, fingering the tip of the whip idly. "You managed to piss two people off tonight."

The girl’s lips pursed, and she said, "She should not be here. This is between Jason and myself. Denis-- escort her out."

Denis’s eyes widened, and he cast a wary glance over at Catwoman, then down at his hand, then beseechingly at Lyle. "Er….."

“ ‘Escort me out.’ I like that. Mm. Maybe I should escort Denny out,” Catwoman purred, flexing the claws of one hand. Lyle looked impatient; opened her mouth to speak again.

“Lyle, tell your pet to stand down before he gets further hurt. You wronged Catwoman tonight as well as me; she’s not going anywhere,” Jason said uncompromisingly. The girl sighed.

“The mortal should not have been there in the first place. If she came to harm, such was not my intention; but you were responsible for her presence, Blood. Her presence— which, I would like to point out, turned what would have been a peaceful encounter between you and I into a fight.”

Jason’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “Oh yes, a peaceful encounter. Because, obviously, there’s nothing hostile at all about tricking someone to a location where their abilities are rendered helpless, trapping them, and haranguing them from a safe distance with lies calculated to make them have a nervous breakdown. I apologize for so sadly misreading your intentions, which must have naturally been benevolent and kind.”

The girl turned her face away, expression regretful for an instant, but only an instant. “I… do not tell lies, Jason.”

“You weren’t telling the truth either,” Jason said softly. Lyle’s face shuttered. Jason took a breath and continued.

“Do explain to me why you felt, in your vaunted wisdom, that any of this night was necessary…? I honestly would like to know, before I send your malicious self into another dimension. Painfully.”

“Are you human?”

Jason looked disgusted. “Can we keep to the matter at--”

“Answer the question. Are you human?”

Blood was silent for a long second, glaring at Lyle, but ground out a terse, “Yes. I am.”

“Good. That is why, Jason.”

“…clear as bloody mud,” Jason muttered, looking warily at the girl on the couch. “For a woman who supposedly dispenses reason, wisdom, and truth, Lyle, you seem to be in short supply of both logic and honesty tonight.”

Lyle shook her head. “Jason…. perhaps… perhaps my approach tonight… was not the best. Not the wisest, or the most well-thought out. But my intentions were--”

“Suitable to serve as paving stones for the road to hell?” Jason muttered. Lyle winced. “—my intentions were good, yes. Just—listen, please. Just listen for a minute.”

Jason sighed but didn’t move.

“…I’ve watched you for many years now, Jason, and I know the truth of what happened at Camelot—your fall; Emrys’s manipulation of you; …Etrigan. I’ve watched what happened to you since. I’ve watched you spend more, and more, of yourself combating him, until, in truth, you are nothing more than his opposite, his nemesis. …Jason… you do things not because they are right-- but only because they will anger Etrigan.

“…can you not see, how dangerous this is? How close you are to being exactly what the story says? Nothing more than his detritus, his wreckage? It would… pain me, Jason… if that were to become true.”

Catwoman watching silently, eyes back and forth between the blind girl and the expressionless man, his face stony. Now something sparked in his gaze, flicker of anger like foxfire, but voice still polite, restrained. “Indeed. Indulge me and tell me why you give a damn, Lyle? Why you care?”

“I have never approved of what Emrys did to you,” Lyle said quietly.

The flicker caught and became anger, the wounded animal of earlier lashing out. “No? Well bully for your moral superiority, Lyle. Congratulations, for being so much better than him! that you decide to help me face what you think I need to face, decide to do so by shoving me into a cage of mirrors and bending me until I break! And thank you for ‘helping’ me by showing me my worst nightmare and making me deal with it in your innovative, humane, and elegant way! Thank you for not treating me at all like Merlin did, with his manipulations and his surety that he knew what was best for me!”

Jason stalked over to Lyle, shoving Rochester roughly to one side when the younger man tried to lift a hand. He leaned over the girl on the couch and continued, “Yes, thank you so bloody much… All of you. All of you. Morgaine. Merlin. Kells. You. Hell, even my father. All of you-- all of you powerful, skilled, smarter-than-thou wizards and witches, with your cosmic arrogance, and the wisdom, born of immortality, on how we mere humans should live our lives-- you all make me sick.

“And the next time, Lyle, you should take into your blonde and blind head to help me out, or better show me how to bear my burden-- the next time you get such a wonderfully brilliant idea-- fuck off.”

Jason pushed himself back from the couch, from Lyle who’d drawn back, her unseeing eyes wide, and stalked back towards Catwoman. “We’re done here. Let’s go,” he gritted out.

“Jason-- Jason, wait. Can--can you honestly say that I don’t have a point? About you and Etrigan-- your humanity and free will, slipping away to--”

“Yes you have a bloody point, ” he snarled, turning. “Pity it’s not original. The last time I heard it was from someone who did actually give a damn about me-- pity she’s dead. But, like you, she didn’t have any real bright suggestions about what I should do, either. Christ. Do you think I don’t know what you’re pointing out? Do you think I haven’t heard it before?”

Lyle stopped, Denis Rochester at her side looking out of his depth, and looked with blind eyes towards Jason and Catwoman, her expression frozen in a sort of helpless deer-in-headlights look that, briefly, made Selina feel a sort of pity. “I helped-- I gave you-- I convicted you of your humanity, at least. I did that.”

“No. You didn’t. She did that,” Jason snapped, with a gesture at Catwoman. “Yes, that’s right, the mortal. With the assist of some hot cocoa and some honest conversation-- not mirrors and spells.

“I’ll not be your charity case, Lyle, nor the opportunity for you to assuage whatever guilt you feel for not stepping in back then. Goodbye, Lyle.” He turned away again.

“Wait.” Lyle sounded tired, weak, defeated. Selina smiled grimly to herself. There hadn’t been the magical showdown Jason had come expecting-- but he’d certainly won the battle. “Wait, Jason, please. The Leabhar Seun; I need it back. And your-- friend-- we need to discuss her.”

“Whoa for just a sec,” Selina interjected, holding up the whip and noting that, even with magicians, that got you some immediate attention. “Let me get this straight, Lyle-- you want the book that you used as bait for him to come dancing into your trap back? Jeez, you people really do do things differently-- here in Gotham, in fact, just about everywhere here in the real world where demons living inside people is a figure of speech and walls don’t melt-- if the hero manages to get the trap-bait out and away, the villain usually doesn’t have the gall to go asking for it to be returned… and second, what exactly needs to be discussed about me? I’d rather like to have a say in that, personally.

“Oh, and thirdly-- will you stop speaking about me in third person? I didn’t say anything, Jason seemed to have his own verbal smackdown to deliver, but really, it’s quite rude.” She smiled, not too pleasantly, at Lyle-- then on second thought, since Lyle probably couldn’t see her, turned the smile on Rochester.

Looking as if there were things she’d rather be doing, Lyle addressed Selina directly. “…you have seen many things tonight, Selina Kyle, that were not yours to see; and heard many things you should not have heard. Things that do not belong in either your world-- or your mind.”

Catwoman disregarded that whole annoying ‘look-I’m-magic-and-can-call-you-by-your-real-name’ thing with an idle hiss, and arched an unimpressed brow at Lyle. “Uh-huh. Well, if you’re thinking of messing with my mind, you can just keep sitting down and have another nice long think, kiddo,” she said with a warning flick of the whip.

“Quite,” added Jason dryly. “Tamper with her memories, Lyle, and I will bring down a rain of fire on your head.”

The girl exhaled in frustration, her head turning in Jason’s direction. “Blood. You know what she saw tonight. The mirrors. Etrigan. I know it’s a memory you’re not too happy with yourself-- will you condemn her to knowledge of that? To knowledge… of your demon?”

"Somehow I think she can handle it," Jason snapped. "And as for the Leabhar-- you know, I just might be open to the idea of returning it to your lovely island and your protection… that is, once I get something approaching a decent apology for the shameful, stupid, and patronizing way you've been treating us. And, of course, after you've had some extra time to think about your behaviour-- say, a few decades. See you then, Lyle."

Catwoman raised a hand to get his attention, as he turned towards the door. At Jason’s questioning look, she asked politely, "All done? No more verbal whiplash to deliver?" He shook his head minutely, a slight smile on his face.

"Oh I’m quite through, feel free to draw blood."

"Thank you, Jason," she said with a nod in his direction, then turned her gaze on Lyle. "Jason here took care of most of the 'you were very naughty' speech tonight, and we're both indebted to him I’m sure, but if I could point out something else you're really going to have to work on?

"It’s that dialogue of yours, sadly," Selina said with a mock mournful shake of her head. "I mean, you're really not very good at this. I've heard better variants of the 'things beyond your mortal ken' speech in monster movies from the ‘50s, and they were aimed at kids in white shirts and crew cuts that just loved listening to authority figures. Now think about this, if you can’t do better than the Duck and Cover guy, what good is all that hocus pocus really doing you. I know you're trying to pull off the ancient, dignified and mystic oracle-- but sweetheart, some have it, and some don’t. You're in the latter category.

"You don’t come off ‘ancient and wise’ – you don’t come off ‘refreshingly hip’-- hell, you can’t even manage smart and sassy. May I suggest some basic drama classes at the local community college? They can give you some wonderful voice training. And perhaps a library card, a little Jane Austen will work miracles.”

Selina turned to go, then turned back as if struck by an afterthought.

“Oh and if all that fails, ask Jason here for some tips. He managed to be pretty articulate tonight, I think. There was an elegant simplicity to his statement of 'fuck you.'" Selina smiled, politely, and turned, giving a little finger wave to Denis. His face was pink; but not quite as pink as Lyle’s was, with two spots of bright color high on her cheeks.

They took the elevator down, this time, and Jason didn’t stop chuckling to himself the whole way down.

"Glad you liked."

"Oh, it was the community college part that really got me. Thank you for that. I wonder…."

"Yes, Jason?"

"I wonder… if I could ever introduce you to my good friend Merlin…?"

Selina grinned. "Bring 'em on."

~Finis~

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