Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(34)

Too many. Too damn many. And while the wealthy in this city swathed themselves in jewels and cloistered themselves in penthouses that looked down upon those very slums, kids like Maggie went to school hungry, wore secondhand clothing, and knew, deep down, that no one was coming to help them.

These are the things that you might change, Talia had told her during her weekly one-on-one sessions with each acolyte. What you will return to upend.

And so she had.

Not a whisper of trouble arose while Selina prowled over the shining gray floors of the dark store, passing beneath the crystal chandeliers dangling from the arched ceilings, and headed down a level into the fairly plain catacombs below.

Navigating the warren of halls was easy; she only had to follow the path of the heavy, grated metal doors.

But even mapping out her plan mentally didn’t prepare her for the sheer size of the vault as she passed through the last of the metal doors and into the small chamber where it lay. The sole occupant of the room.

Hands on her hips, Selina surveyed the sealed vault set into a solid wall of concrete, the puzzle before her.

Try it, it seemed to whisper. As if some great, sleeping dragon lay curled behind the vault. See if you dare.

The low hum that had been coursing through her veins earlier turned into a full-throttle electric current.

The store had been smarter than the museum about keeping its blueprints and receipts off any kind of database. Holly Vanderhees, of course, had visited this store only yesterday afternoon, but asking too many questions about the vault would have led a trail of bread crumbs right back to her. Which meant going into this robbery more blind than she’d like, but that was part of the thrill—this moment of finding a way in. Outsmarting them. As she had from those initial years in the East End.

Selina studied the looming vault, studied the solid wall of concrete it had been built into, an empty duffel bag dangling from her hand.

“I’m going to do you a favor and avoid a joke about the cat being out of the bag,” Ivy drawled from behind.

Selina arched a brow beneath her Death Mask. “Following me?”

Ivy smirked as she approached, clad in the same getup as the other night. “I want my twenty-five percent.”

“You’ll get it when the painting goes to market,” Selina said, turning back toward her metal opponent. “Give it a week or two.”

“Nice spread in the morning paper,” Ivy said, coming to survey the vault at Selina’s side. “You didn’t seem the type to self-promote.”

Selina closed the distance to the vault and ran a gloved hand over the smooth metal of the door. Diamond-brushed steel. At least six inches thick. “The media is just another weapon to wield,” she murmured. They certainly hadn’t asked questions when an anonymous email account had sent the footage of Batwing being laid out flat on a rooftop and losing the priceless painting in the process.

Ivy hummed. “I’m sure Batwing’s humiliation was just a pleasant side effect.”

Selina gave Ivy a sidelong glance, though the woman couldn’t see it with the helmet on. “It was.”

Selina didn’t tell her that it was the message to other criminals that had mattered. The invitation. Instead, she asked drily, “Why, exactly, are you here?”

Ivy tapped a gloved hand—one that truly seemed wrapped in vines, not cloth—on the brushed metal of the vault. “I want in.”

“I work alone.” Selina set her small bag on the floor, crouching to open it and yank out a tiny electromagnetic pulse machine. She’d built it herself in one of the League’s labs—had designed it to be tiny enough to haul with her.

She’d never tested it in the wild, though.

Ivy leaned against the wall beside the vault, examining what appeared to be a small pink flower growing out of the material of her glove. Interesting. “Think about it: we team up, split the profits, and take on Gotham City’s finest.”

“You ran when you saw one of Gotham City’s finest.” Selina positioned the black rectangular box of the pulse machine by the vault door.

“How was I to know you’d hand his ass to him?”

“So his suit filters out your plants’ chemicals, then.”

“Let’s just say that I make a point to stay out of his way.” Ivy waved a hand. “You, though…Think of what we could accomplish together.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“You’d have someone guarding your back. We could hit up bigger targets. Make more.”

“To fund your eco-terrorism plans to save the trees.”

“To help put an end to the destruction before it’s too late, before this planet is nothing but a wasteland. Do you know that both our state and federal government have an overwhelming majority of people working there who believe climate change is a hoax?”

“And you think attacking them is going to change that?”

“They can’t vote to defund agencies and open up pipelines if they’re not around to do it.”

Selina frowned up at Ivy. “Or you could make martyrs of them.”

Ivy’s mouth tightened, her flowers winking out. “They’ve already done enough damage to the earth that there might not even be a chance to turn back. Entire ecosystems—gone. Who fights for them? Who makes sure that they get justice?”