Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(48)

A long strand of opera pearls streaming behind her, Harley unhooked one of those smiling orbs and hurled it toward him with the skill of a pitcher.

Batwing swerved, nimbly avoiding the ball as it exploded right where he’d been.

If it triggered anything in his PTSD, it didn’t slow him.

Harley lobbed another one, a third on its heels.

Batwing again soared upward, dodging her shots. Gaining on them.

“He’s still out of range for my vine,” Ivy called over a shoulder as Selina held the car steady. “If you hit the brakes—”

Batwing lifted his arm, firing his own shot.

Some sort of arrow aiming for the back tires.

Selina swerved. Harley cursed, slamming into Ivy, whose vine wrapped around Harley to steady her.

The arrow went wide, ricocheting off the asphalt.

“This dude needs a major attitude readjustment.” Harley pouted, trying to free herself from the tethers of Ivy’s vine. Batwing raised his arm again, preparing another shot to their tires.

Ivy pushed Harley off her, her vine sliding free. “I think you’re right,” Ivy hissed, and lifted her arm. “He’s gotten close enough.”

Selina couldn’t agree more.

“I’ll line up the shot for you,” Selina called to Ivy, taking another curve, then soaring over the small bridge spanning the Finger River, which cleaved Robinson Park in two. “Face forward and get ready.” She ordered over her shoulder, “Seat belts on.”

She veered to the left as Batwing fired another steel arrow. Ivy and Harley grinned and saluted before they obeyed.

And as they hit a long, straight bit of road, Selina slammed on the brakes.

The seat belt bit into her, even through her suit. Harley swore behind her.

Batwing zoomed overhead as they slammed to a stop. Exposing his back to them.

Ivy unclipped her seat belt and leapt into the front seat, balancing her forearm on the windshield. Within a heartbeat, she fired two long green vines, spearing through the night. One to the left, one to the right. Explosives and gases, Batwing had no doubt expected. But a living thing launching at him?

It seemed the element of surprise was on Ivy’s side as his wings flared, trying to halt and pivot him. Too late.

Both of Ivy’s vines hit home.

And whatever indestructible material Batwing’s suit was made of, his wings were not.

The vines ripped through metal and wiring like a hot knife through butter, sending Batwing tumbling toward the towering oaks.

Harley whooped, bouncing in her seat as she clapped Ivy on the shoulder. Ivy only grinned, small flowers blooming on her gloves.

“Brilliant,” Selina breathed, risking a full glance over her shoulder. She found herself answering Ivy’s grin beneath her mask. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Ivy sketched a bow—or as much of one as she could in her seat.

Still grinning, Selina adjusted the clutch and slammed on the gas, the Porsche shooting like a star into the night.



* * *



—

They ditched the Porsche on a side street, then took the subway back to the East End. When Selina stalked out of the car at a graffiti-covered aboveground stop, Harley and Ivy followed. They’d made sure to grab all the jewels from the convertible, the duffels they each bore now zipped up and nondescript.

Save for their outfits. People had outright moved off the train the moment the trio entered the car. Whether the passengers had called the cops on them wasn’t a problem. They’d be gone before any patrol cars could arrive.

Harley had been too busy on her phone to notice and remained so now, walking down the platform, Ivy steering her out of the way of the steel beams and benches. “You should see this,” she declared, pale makeup illuminated by the light of her screen. “We are everywhere.”

Selina paused by the station stairs as Harley held up the screen to show them the video that someone had filmed inside the gala. It showed the three of them prowling into the ballroom, armed and smiling. Or Harley and Ivy were, since their smiles were the only ones visible.

“And look at this one,” Harley said, lowering her phone to scroll to another video.

And there she was, leaping out the window, the footage in slo-mo, revealing Selina’s midair twist, her middle fingers raised to Batwing, to everyone in that gala.

Selina blinked. She’d never seen herself…in action.

For a heartbeat, that old picture of her flipping on the balance beam at that gymnastics competition flashed through her mind. How much had changed, and yet how little. She pushed away the quiet weight that threatened to drag her down.

Ivy laughed as she studied the picture, nudging Selina with a hip. “Kitty has a fun side after all.”

Selina nudged her back. “Let’s go. There are security feeds here.” She nodded toward a mounted camera monitoring them a few feet away.

Harley tossed a small bomb.

Bye-bye, camera.

Selina chuckled. “Well, that’s one way to deal with it.”

Ivy fell into step beside her as they strode down the filthy steps and toward the street below. “When’s the next hit, ladies?”

“Three days,” Selina said.

“Why not tomorrow?” Harley demanded, eyes bright with excitement.

“Because we want those videos to get broadcast everywhere.” Selina nodded toward the phone Harley still held in one hand. “We don’t want the robberies to bleed into each other.”