Chapter Text
1.
“Mr. Wayne, thank you for letting me stay here.”
Everyone in the hallway stops and turns their head to look at me like I’m some crazy weirdo. All of Mr. Wayne's children are present. The eldest golden child, Richard Grayson, the second rebellious bad boy that Vicky Vale is always rambling about, Jason Todd, the only daughter, elude and mystery, Cassandra Cain and the raging short-tempered demon child with a pointy sword, Conner words not mine, Damian Wayne.
Their stares are so intense.
Normally I would brush it off, getting stared at is not something new to me, being a public figure and most sought after bachelor of Gotham, again, Conor words, but it is not everyday that you get stared at by your neighbor from a parallel universe who happens to be your counterpart’s family. Talk about awkwardness.
Mr. Pennyworth, the famous Wayne butler, comes to my rescue before I say anything more to make a fool of myself.
“Master Drake, let me show you your room.”
“Thank you.” If I walk a little faster, it is absolutely not because I want to get out of there.
“Is it wise to let him stay here?” Jason leans on the wall and watches the stranger follow their butler up the great stairwell. “We should let him stay at the Justice league headquarters and let Zatanna watch over this …” Jasson gestures his hand up and down, trying to make a point, “Civilian Tim.”
“Jason, we talked about this, we can’t detain him at the Headquarter, he is not a prisoner, he’s a victim here.” Dick sighs.
“Yes, yes, I know, but does he have to be here, there's an option of multiple safe houses in Gotham. Heck, why not move him to one of Tim’s penthouse, the kid barely lives there anymore.”
“Because, no matter which universe he comes from, Tim is still our brother.”
“Do you even hear yourself, we are basically strangers to him. He call Bruce Mr. Wayne for fuck sake.”
Bruce cuts in before the conversation would escalate further, “He is staying. That’s final.”
“Fine, your house, your rule.” Jason scoffs, and walks off into the kitchen. All the fighting last night, the magic incident, the mess they are dealing with right now, he doesn’t have any energy left to go into a full fight with Bruce and his stupid decision. First, food, then a good sleep, then the wide eyed civilian.
2.
Pulled from the safety of my bed, dropped into the middle of magical alien fight, being interrogated under the Lasso of Truth by freaking Wonder Woman then relocated to my counterpart guardian despite being 21 and totally capable of taking care of myself, 12 hours of sleep is not enough to restore my lost sanity.
But it seems good enough to endure another round of questions , instigated by none other than the most talkative person in the room, Grayson.
I take one more sip from my coffee and brace myself. We are sitting in the dining room, everyone has already eaten before I woke up. It was nice to have a quiet dinner and some lone time until a hurricane called Richard Grayson stormed in.
“So, what was I from your world like?”
“Mr. Grayson? He’s a good person. Very friendly. Dedicated to his charity work. One of the most desirable bachelors of Gotham.” I offer him general knowledge anyone could get from gossip columns. The Wayne is famous, their faces and names are everywhere, from fashion magazines to the latest news. It is hard to ignore their ever pervasive presence, especially when we run in the same circle. Old money or young money, it doesn’t matter as long as you are rich.
“Are you guys close?” He doesn’t seem curious about the desirable status but more about our relationship, I hold back a little sigh, there’s gone the hope the question wouldn’t move into something personal.
“We are acquaintances. Grayson and I work together on a few projects. Philanthropic works mostly.”
“And Jason?” Grayson gestures at the tall man looming by the door, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Jason, well, I know about him. We both attended Gotham Academy, took some classes together, saw him a few times at Wayne gala, but we haven’t talked much.”
“Are you close with any of us, Cass, Steph?” Grayson waves his hand around, “You know. The Wayne kids and their friends.”
I taps my finger on the porcelain cup, thinking, constructing the fastest path to end this uninvited conversation.
“I’m sorry. Everyone in my Gotham knows you should never put a Wayne and a Drake alone in one room. We don’t like each other very much.”
“What! Why?”
“Because” I answer articulately, getting the message across clear and crisp, “I called Bruce Wayne an entitlement asshole on live television.”
3.
The two brothers stare at the empty seat, speechless. Tim got up and went to the kitchen, thanking Alfred for his meal. It felt like their Tim when he was talking to reporters as CEO of Wayne Enterprise, concise and polite, but there’s no warmth in his voice. Just business.
“He doesn’t seem to like us much, does he.” Dick breaks the silence and says.
“I like him.”
“Glad you change your mind, Jay”
4.
“Tim”
Zeus, not a minute of break, I hold back the long sigh and close the laptop. After retreating from the dining room, I found a quiet corner in the library and buried myself in the laptop Richard had lent me. This world is similar yet so strange. But before I could dig deeper, filter through the news for valuable information, my attention was demanded, away from my work, to a young teen standing at the opposite side of the table. “Yes, Damian?”
“You are calm.” His eyes were searching, “For someone who is lost in a foreign world.”
Bruce Wayne seriously needed to take a parental class, all his children I have the fortune of meeting so far don’t seem to know the concept of chill and minding their own business. This is mean, I know, but they shouldn’t poking around the cranky dimensions traveler.
“There is nothing I can do now except waiting for Ms. Zatanna. Screaming and crying would not do me any good. And I am sure you wouldn’t want to deal with my breakdown.”
“Well, this is Pennyworth, our cat, you can pet her if you ask her nicely.”
A little meow come from behind his frame, a tuxedo cat, and her bright yellow eyes stare back at me.
Damian Wayne is trying to comfort me by offering his cat. Wow, maybe I was too quick on my judgment.
“Thank you.” Unconsciously, for the first time since arriving here, I have let a genuine smile out, soften the tightness of my face, and somehow lessen the heavy weight on my heart.
Everything will turn out fine. I remind myself as my hand dip into the soft fur and Pennyworth purrs on my lap. I have faced down Superboy Prime and come out alive, this situation is nothing compared to that.
I am adept at dealing with the heroes, playing my civilian card effortlessly, but when the Superboy Prime came and attacked my brother, the civilian facade dropped as I performed magic and beat the shit out of the pompous hero wannabe. In front of a crowd, with cameras. The secret was out, the attention from the media after that fight was monstrous, though I can say I regret much. Between the vultures, reporters and nosy strangers, and the well-being of my brother, I would choose the later in a heartbeat.
Still in this new world, magic is my trump card. If I knew any world hopping spell I would have get the hell out of here. But my specialty is always focused on combat and healing, the art of supporting spells is an unmapped land I only tiptoed around the edge. Surrounded by mountains of books in Wayne manor, and I was already homesick, missing my personal magical library dearly.
5.
Ivy leaves climbed on the spire, gargoyles stand looming over the edge, gray and emotionless eyes peering down at the front yard, as I walk down the gate, the feeling of being watched is ever present. Wayne and their paranoids. Letting the elusive eldest girl put a chip on my knapsack, even after such measures, I bet good money they still feel the need to follow me, either through a network of hidden cameras or in person.
It is only a short trip, in the neighborhood, from the Wayne manor to Professor Blood’s house. Jason Blood is one of a few people on earth that holds a great well of knowledge about magic, not as a practitioner but as a cursed immortal, trying to free his soul from this mortal realm. He and I are good friends but as far as I know, the Tim of this world and professor Blood are strangers. All I could hope is a chance to use his library and maybe with little luck, pick his brain about my current magical problem.
6.
“You don’t know?”
“Mr. Drake, I don’t know what Jason Blood in your world is like, but I am not specialized in curse breaking or time and space magic. I deal with demons and hell.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.” Shrink back to my seat, I let out a long sigh. This has been a long day and I’m still getting nowhere closer to the way home.
“Thank you for letting me browse your library. Can I borrow these books?”
“If you think they can help.” Blood shrugs. “You are staying at Wayne manor, correct?”
“Yes. I will ask Alfred to return these in case I’m unable to do so.” Like back to my world. And not become a sacrifice in someone’s scheme.
Twelve tombs, ancient text, dwelling into Magic of Lost Age, the type of magic I rarely touch. Too familiar, the language, the symbols, they unnerved me.
7.
“Damian. May I have a moment of your time ?”
The young teen stops his sketching and puts down the pencil, gestures at me to go ahead.
“I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know if you are even aware of it, but.”
“What are you trying to tell me? Get to the point Tim.”
“There’s a curse on your heart.”
The Bats are gathering in Justice League’s headquarters. Zatanna and Damian in their medical bay, with Nightwing on standby.
Batman is back at the control room, skimming through video footage, to the night their wayward dimension traveler arrived.
That night, Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin were tracking down a man connected to a network of human trafficking to downtown Gotham. But the man didn’t lead them to the traffickers but straight to the Council of Dark Arcana’s ambush. All members of the council are formidable magic users, dabbling in dark and dangerous magic.
The footage is a blur of smoke and flash bangs, of magic spells flying and arrays activating, a dance between the art of new and old.
Batman hit the pause button, on the screen, their leader, Morgan Le Fey, was raising her hand, confident in her stance, her lip curl as she spoke the language of Ancient and Magic.
On the other side of the battle, Red Robin was fighting alongside Nightwing, the black cape of Robin could be spotted at the corner.
Batman leans closer, Morgan was aiming at Damian. The video continues to play.
“Red Robin. 3 o’clock.” Nightwing shouted
“Copy that.” And Tim moved, inadvertently shielded Robin from the trajectory of Morgan’s spell.
White light covered the screen. Tim’s silhouette glitched and swayed a bit. He was hit. When the light faded, the mist surrounding him dissipated, there was a young man standing on the burning ground.
The man had his hand covering the lower half of his face, but to those who were familiar with Tim, they immediately recognized who he was. But something had happened.
Tim was suddenly tripped off his mask, cape, and gears, only one dark color yukata loosely wrapped around his torso. As he steadied himself, narrowly dodging a stray spell and stumbled his way out of the fight zone, confusion filled his eyes until a spark of realization replaced it when his head turned to the incongruous sound in the middle of the battle.
The witch seemed to be in a frenzy. She laughed and laughed. Like the whistling noise of a dying animal. Like joy shadowed by dread, like triumph followed by doom.
Before their counter-attack could reach her, a powerful shield formed around her, then with a flick of her finger, Morgan and her council disappeared in the blue crackling electric light. The magic energy emitted from the teleportation spell had rendered their cameras useless, the image was cut here, but the recorder was still working.
And then on the black screen, the sing song voice of the ancient witch ring:
“The little fire bird
Moved to where it did not belong,
Now both little lost birds,
Misplaced in time and space
Come find me little one
For Only I can bring you home.”
They thought The council of Dark Arcana’s target was Red Robin, given Morgan farewell words, but in the beginning, it was undeniable clear, Robin was the center of their attack. For some reason, after misfiring her spell, hitting Red Robin instead, Morgan changed her plan.
Tim was the reason why.
Outside the medical room, a flash of eerie green hue emits through the closed door.
Inside, Robin is lying on an exam table, his rigid body relaxed, eyes closed, influenced by a sleeping spell.
Over his chest, wobbling lines and circles glow in green light, flickering as his examiner, Zatanna, works her way to push more magic in the spell. With a crackling sound, something was broken, and the symbols and letters came into full view.
She recognizes some of the symbols, and understands about a third of the letters. Enough for her to identify it. Death magic and soul alchemy. Combination of two most vile taboos in magic art.
As she looks away from the floating image above Robin’s heart, her eyes meet Nightwing’s. Grim meets perplexed.
“What was that? What do those symbols mean?”
“Nightwing, Tim was telling the truth, there’s a curse connecting to Robin’s life force through his heart.”
“What? How?” Under the mask, Nightwing’s expression remains neutral but Zantana can hear panic rising in his voice. “None of the spells from the council members touched him. I was there, I know.”
“It isn’t from that night, Nightwing. The magic residue I felt, it is mild and subdued, years must have passed since the day Robin got this.”
“What did it do? You said it’s a curse. What is it doing to Robin?
“Right now, nothing, it isn’t going to do anything in its dormant form.”
“And what happens when it is activated?”
“I…I don’t know. I have never seen anything like this before. I need to consult with Constantine and Jason Blood. But from the connection it has with Robin’s life force, we can assume the worst.”
“It could kill him.”
“I, … yes, it could.” Zatanna grimaced, she hated it whenever she had to deliver bad news to family members. It feels like she has failed them. “Or maybe. Maybe it will only feed from him, like draining his energy. Or something.”
“Ok, so Robin has this curse with unknown effect for who knows how long, decade even and we only know about that now.” Dick pinched his nose, a headache is forming. “Zatanna, don't you perform a magical check up on Justice League and Teen Titan’s members once a year.”
“This curse, whoever put it there knows how to conceal it from normal scanning spells. I couldn’t find anything wrong with him with my regular check up.”
“But you just did.”
“Because someone has put a crack in the concealing veil, allowing me to feel the curse's presence. This time I know I need to tear down the veil, before my scanning spell can take effect.”
8.
Despite Jason’s bulky frame, his steps were weightless. I had almost missed it when he entered the library and found an empty seat to reside in. A seat just happened to be on the left side of the room and farthest away from me.
Jason picked a book, flipping some pages, minding his own business. Until twenty minutes later, he decided to quit this quiet game we were playing. And the sacred silence of the library was broken.
“So, you can use magic.”
“Yes, I can.” I answered, not bothering to look up from the ancient tomb I was reading.
Excuse my rudeness but since what happened yesterday, I had reached the limit quota of being nice to Wayne for a whole week.
I tried to inform Damian of his imminent danger, not volunteered to be treated like a freaking criminal. And what crime did I commit? Dropping a bomb in the Wayne household by letting them know a curse was placed on their youngest child.
Right after disclosing the news, Damian eyed me suspiciously, like I was speaking nonsense, and ran off. Not long after, there were shouting, something breaking and when Damian returned to the study room, his worried brother and the emotionless father followed. Somehow they determined this was a great chance to show their hospitality by welcoming me with the Wayne famed penchant for paranoia and incessing questions borderline interrogating.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Yes, Damian was cursed.”
“Yes, it’s in his heart.”
“How did I know, magic, of course.” Spark came out of my hand, a spell was casted, a bird made of fire was formed, flying circles around the room before landing back to my outreach hand. It chirped happily.
They stared at the bird and then turned to stare at me. Spellbound.
I stared back. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I will say this one more time. Damian was cursed, with unknown dark magic, right in his heart. You shouldn’t be here asking the why, the how I know this. You should be asking what it is doing to him or whether it can be broken.”
“And those are the questions for the expert and someone you trust. Because clearly you don’t trust me.”
My tone was neutral, if a little bit cold. but their blatant distrust was chipping at my patience.
Their denial and empty word of amendment was left to deaf ears. “May I leave, or are you intending to keep me here until I obediently answer all your questions?” The bird flared its wings, burning red eyes locked on them.
“No, sorry, of course you can leave. Sorry, we didn’t mean to.” Grayson, the ever flirting playboy, stumbled at words. “I mean, we just want to make sure. Yeah, uhm, thank you for letting us know about this. Really, we should have started with that. Ha ha.”
The only sound answered him was the piercing trill of a flaming magical bird, and its flapping wings. Trailing after me out of the room.
9.
“I heard Mr. Wayne had taken Damian to see a magic specialist, and Grayson had tagged along. Why are you here?”
“Three is already a crowd. They don’t need me there.”
“And you are needed here. Hmmp, did Bruce give you a question list to ask. Since the nice cop has gone, he sent his attack dog instead?”
Jason isn't offended by my choice of words nor is he angry.
“Wow. Mr. Nice Guy, the disdain in your voice is showing.” He seems intrigued. “You hate Bruce Wayne. Why?”
“I do not hate him. It was a waste of energy to direct my feelings, negative or not, to someone like him.”
“Okay, so you consider Bruce unworthy of your attention. Why?”
Because he’s the worst type of man who strings women along with empty promises.
That the answer I had used countless times whenever the question was raised in public. Playboy, womanizer, Gotham’s darling. No matter which universe I’m in, this seems to be a universal truth about Bruce Wayne.
But I hesitate, this is Jason Todd, not a random reporter in the crowd. If anything he deserves my honest opinion.
“Because he let you die, Jason.”
“What are you talking about? Die? I’m still alive.”
“We have established that I can use magic.”
“Yes?”
“I can feel it, you know, the flow of death magic in your veins. You have died, and then magic brought you back to life.” I say, keep my gaze on him, eyes never divert from the green madness of Lazarus pit.
10.
“Can you track who cursed Robin?”
“No. I’m sorry, this curse is too old to pick up any residue magic.” Zatanna explains. “But I can track the person who has left the crack.”
“I think I know who the caster is.”
Nightwing glances at Robin. He looks so young in his sleep. It is easy to forget how young Robin actually is. He is too skilled, too good, too deadly to be anything but a full fledged fighter. But Daniman is still a 14 year old kid who only learned to be comfortable around his family, to let down his guard and to trust them to always have his back.
Dick remembers the conversation they had before coming here.
“I don’t think Tim’s lying.” Damian has said.
“I don’t think so either, but he could be wrong.”
“No, he was very certain. And,” The pause was brief, “I could see that he genuinely cared.”
It took Dick ages to get the youngest member of the family to open up to him. But Tim only needs one day.
“You do? Who are they? Are they an ally?”
Zatanna’s question pulls him away from his thoughts, and despite his best effort, Nightwing winces, a little. He never had to second guess about where Tim’s alliance lies. Until now.
“Well sort of. An ally, I hope.” He admitted awkwardly. “It’s Tim.”
“The new guy. Really? His energy didn’t give him off as a magic user. Either his magic is too weak for me to pick up or too good. And I think it’s the latter.”
“Yes, I think so too.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t seem so thrilled. He’s strong, it means he can help, right?”
“I’m not sure if he is keen on helping us now. Batman and I, we kinda piss him off.”
“Don’t worry, He seems like a nice guy. I’m sure you guys will work things out.”
11.
“Nightwing, what happened to Red Robin? Why didn't he answer any of his calls?” Impulse, the young speedster stopped Nightwing from reaching the Teleportation tube. Batman had already returned to the manor with Robin. Five minutes lag behind and the Teen Titan’s members had already sniffed him out. There’s going to be so much to explain, Nightwing held up his inner sigh as he answered. “Sorry, forgot to inform you guys, there was a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Superboy, who was floating right behind Impulse, asked.
“The kind that involved magic and dimension misplaced.”
“Hey, Tim, so Tim, I mean our Tim, uhm, he has friends.” Dick knocked on the library’s door, announced his present and as an attempt to pull me from my research.
“Yes, And?” What this got anything to do with me, I stared at the man, eyebrow raised, hoping he would catch my message.
It seemed he didn’t.
“They want to meet you.”
“So they do.” And just to be difficult, I added. “I don’t.”
Someone burst through the door, a blur of orange, then there he is, right in front of me, a hurricane or Bart Allen or Impulse. His mask and spandex gone, Bart looked young in his civilian cloth. I tentatively stepped back, trying to create a resemblance of distance between us, but he intruded on, took my hands and shook. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Bart. Are you Tim? Can I call you Tim? Or do you like nickname, what do you want? Can I pick one for you?”
Before Tim could answer, Superboy chose this exact moment to walk in. “Bart slow down. Hi, I’m Connor, sorry about that, he's just really excited to meet you.”
“Why? Do you hate this world Tim?”
“No, what, why would you think that?”
“Because me being here means I’m taking his place. He’s not here partly because of me. You shouldn’t want to meet me.”
“Not your fault. Some old lady did that to both of you. And I want to meet you. Get to know you and stuff.”
“Thanks Bart. And to answer your question. I don’t want a nickname but you can call me Kein, it’s my middle name.”
“Hey Kein, are we friends in your world?”
I laughed, friends he asked, such an understatement of our relationship. “Friends? I basically adopt them. They like my little brothers.”
“What, little brothers? How come you the older one?” Bart shouted, overtook Kon’s protest.
“Bart, how old are you?”
“I’m 15.”
“Physically, yes, but really, how much time has passed since you were born?” I rephrase my question.
“You know? About us?”
“If you are asking whether I know you grow up too fast because of the speed force and Kon was born in the body of a teenager thanks to alien technology then yes, I do.”
“Oh, that, yeah. Do you also know about” Bart’ animated hand waved around, “about stuff?”
I almost snorted, yes, stuff.
“You mean your hobby of running around in spandex and saving civilians from evil doers?”
“I don’t wear spandex, that’s lame.” “Shut up, Kon.” Ah what a familiar scene, sibling fight, that’s why I didn’t want to meet Tim’s friends. Their mere presence reminded me of my own.
It had only been two days since I arrived here, and the worry had already crept in. Those children if left alone, who know what kind of disaster they would get themselves into.
Last time I went on a business trip for three days, guess what I returned to. Superboy Prime was killing my brother.
“Wait wait.” Dick cut off their bickering. “You know about their superhero identities?”
And I thought he had gone, what a troublesome person, the Grayson in my world always kept me at arm's length and I preferred it that way.
“Yes, Impulse and Superboy.” The first thing when I got my hand on the laptop was confirming their existence in this universe.
Feeling Grayson’s tiptoe around the edge, I inclined to do him a favor and addressed the elephant in the room. “And I know about yours too, Grayson, in case you are wondering.”
His widening eyes looked comical as I included one more name in the list, “And the Wayne.”
“Of course he knew about us. Tim deducted Batman and Robin’s secret identities when he was what? Six?” The exasperation in Jason’s voice was palpable.
“But Kein is a civilian.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s stupid.”
Ok, Jason had a point, Dick reluctantly agreed.
12.
I was sitting by myself on the balcony after Bart and Kon had left. It was nice talking to them, but being around that exuberant ball of sunshine, meaning Bart, I really wanted to be left alone for a while.
But then the man of the house chose that exact moment to walk into my hiding place, and the first thing he said to me after yesterday's debacle was this.
“I didn’t let Jason die.”
Ah, so the library was bugged too, I should have known.
“Oh, are you saying this as Batman, mentor of Robin or as Bruce Wayne, Jason’s ex-adopted father. Either way, you have done a terrible job.”
“I—“
“As a mentor, a father, your job is simple: guide them and keep them safe. How old was Jason when he first took the mantle of Robin?”
“He was trained before —“
I cut him off. “How old?” My voice remained calm, but the temperature around us flared up. Magic responded to emotion and right now, calm was far from what I was feeling right now.
“He was 15.”
“Was he emancipated? Was he legally responsible for his action?”
“I was with him on every patrol. He was completely safe.”
“That’s not the point. Are you being obtuse on purpose? What you did, the danger you exposed him to, the violence that had become daily basic for a teenager. That’s mess up. You were, no still are, training your children to become your little obedient child soldiers. How are you any different than Ra Al Ghul?”
“I’m nothing like Ra. I would never force my children to kill for my cause.”
“Is that it? Except for the killing part, your children can hit, kick, maim others who you deemed in your righteous bat brain, a lesser human.”
“They are criminals.”
“If criminals are people breaking the law then look in the mirror, Mr. Wayne. Because you are one.”
13.
What with the bat and intruding on an introverted recharging time? I was very tempted to jump out of the balcony as Damian took each step closer. He’s a child. A fourteen-year-old child who just found out he was cursed. I told myself and braced for his influx of questions. But he didn’t ask about the curse.
“You know my grandfather.”
A statement not a question. Someone had been eavesdropping.
“I don’t know your grandfather but I do know the Ra Al Ghul of my world. Work with him a few times. He’s a very radical environmentalist.”
“Could you drop the Drake C.E.O act?”
“Depends on who am I talking to? Are we friends?”
He looked at me for a thoughtful moment and said, with his hand extended.
“Damian Al Ghul Wayne. Robin. Heir to Wayne Enterprise and League of Assassins.”
“Timothy Kein Drake. C.E.O of Drake Industry and Founder of We are Robin. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mister Wayne.” I took his hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Damian.” He returned the gesture.
“Well, Damian. Call me Kein.”
14.
“Kein is cool.” Bart chirped.
“And more mature.” Conner added.
“‘Course he is. He’s older than Tim.”
Kein had corrected them when they thought he was the same age as Tim. 22. Kein had introduced. That’s so old. Like grow-up old. But Kein looked so young. Like if you put him next to Tim, people would definitely mistook Kein to be the younger twin.
Civilian life suited him.
15.
The garden landscape blended into the background, the flowers glowed under the sunlight, I stopped to get a closer view. One small beautiful thing for a gloomy day ahead. I’m getting out of this manor, there was a limit for how much I could stand their intrusive surveillance practice. A GPS chip on my clothes, listening devices in every room, recording cam stealthily hidden in every public area. What’s next? They send their birds to monitor me 24/7. No, thanks.
“Kein, just the man I was looking for.”
I was a bit annoyed that Richard used my middle name which was reserved only to friends and close acquaintances, he was not, but starting another fight now seemed like a waste of energy.
“Grayson.” I said, as dry as the Sahara desert.
“About Damian—”
“You wanted to ask about his curse. What did your curse specialist say?”
“The curse was unlike anything they’ve ever seen. They are researching for a counter spell.”
I let out a snort. I knew who the Bat’s magic consultants were. Zatanna and Constantine. They couldn’t break the curse, no matter how hard they tried.
“Don’t bother wasting your time with them. They are not card holders. They couldn’t even fathom what was going on. The universe is a vast place and their knowledge without the card is limited.”
“But you do?”
I didn’t bother to answer his question and walked away.
“If you want to know more about the curse, go find Jason Blood. He’s the owner of The Hermit. And for the amazing dishes Alfred made, I’ll let you know one more thing: Damian had a stronger claim on The Devil. More than Ra Al Ghul.”