Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(35)

The same could be said of people, children especially, in the East End.

Selina made a show of considering. “It seems like you benefit more from being around me than I do with you.”

A flash of irritation. “I’m making you an honest offer. Less risks involved in these robberies when you can just gas the place instead of bringing the guards down.”

“Then why don’t I just get myself some canisters of it?” Selina stepped back from the electromagnetic pulse charger.

“Because they don’t sell my special blend at the store, honey.”

“Oh?”

Ivy smiled down at the vines encasing her hands, and without so much as a flicker of movement, they slithered up her wrists.

Selina blinked. Once. Twice.

“My toxins are organic compounds,” Ivy explained. “All plant-based, hybridized, and weaponized. Made by yours truly in my lab.” She pulled what looked to be a pink orchid from a pocket. “A signal from me, and this beauty will send you right to sleep.”

Well, damn. Selina gave herself a moment to stifle any hint of awe in her voice before she said, “I heard a rumor that you didn’t need to bother with fancy flowers. That you can emit those toxins on your own.”

Ivy was quiet for a heartbeat as she pocketed the flower once more.

Then a pale emerald smoke began to drift from her—as if it leaked from every pore. It slithered and floated into the air, wending around Selina. “A friend thought throwing flowers might be a cool touch,” Ivy said as that green mist swirled between them. “But I like to do it the old-fashioned way every now and then.”

Selina reined in a curse. How Ivy had done it, why she’d done it—this wasn’t the time for those questions. Or the right place. “It sounds like I’ll never be able to take off this helmet with you, then. Not exactly an ideal working relationship.”

Silence. Ivy’s smoke faded as quickly as it had come.

Beneath her Death Mask, Selina smiled. And let Ivy work for it a little more as the woman went on, “There’s never been a duo of ladies to take on Gotham City. All the bosses are male.”

“That makes it sound like they’d want to put us down the moment we step onto their turf.”

“You beat the shit out of Batwing.” Those vines slithered down Ivy’s wrists to wrap around her hands again, as tight as any glove. “They might think twice.”

Selina again made a show of considering, fingers hovering over the dials on the machine’s top. “All right,” she said slowly, and Ivy grinned. “But I want one more member.”

Ivy’s deep red brows rose.

“I want Harley Quinn.” Selina hit the button, a low electric hum surging through the room, hollowing out her ears, even with the suit. Metal groaned.

Ivy’s pale face went even whiter. “Why?”

Selina set down the control box and strode over to the now-ajar vault door. “Because we won’t last long without her.”

The flowers on Ivy’s living gloves snapped shut again. “Harley can be…unstable.”

Selina hauled open the vault door, revealing stacks and stacks of cash. Beautiful. “Harley is not only daring when it comes to tactics, but she’s also skilled with firearms and explosives.”

“I know,” Ivy said quietly.

Selina pretended not to have anticipated that softness in her voice. “But what Harley also offers is her relationship history.”

Ivy’s eyes turned to chips of ice. “You mean the Joker.”

Selina began dropping stacks of cash into her open bag and asked innocently, “Is there someone else?”

“No.” Ivy added tightly, “But he’s locked up for life in Arkham.”

“Along with some of his most notorious cronies.”

Ivy stormed up to her side as Selina kept depositing stacks of cash in the bag. “You’re out of your mind if you’re thinking of tangling with the Joker—”

“I’ll be tangling with Harley. And her status as the Joker’s main squeeze”—again that ripple of cold anger on Ivy’s face, the tightening of those vines on her hands, perhaps to the point of pain—“will make any other criminals in this city think twice before crossing us. I don’t have the time or interest in dealing with their petty bullshit.”

Ivy blinked. But she began helping to haul stacks of cash into Selina’s bag. After a moment, she said, “Harley’s always game for a little anarchy.”

“You know her personally, then?” A casual, calculated question. And a total lie. She’d read up on both of them—their fraught relationship, their history. More than friends, yet not. The particulars of it—who wanted something more than friendship and who didn’t, whether Harley’s former relationship with the Joker played a role in that—remained murky.

She doubted it was information either of them publicly shared. Knowing where to strike emotionally, what to manipulate, was another weapon in her arsenal. Especially when it came to assembling the team she needed. Despite Harley’s history with the Joker, she operated on her own now. Ivy, too—precisely the sort of criminals she required.

Independent, unafraid. Why the League hadn’t recruited them yet was beyond her.

“It’s none of your business,” Ivy grumbled. Exactly as Selina had predicted. Ivy scowled and went on. “Harley’s been restless since Batman, Batwing, and all those other do-gooders threw half of Gotham’s criminals behind bars.” Including the Joker. “But she won’t join our little crime ring without some sort of…enticement.”