Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King by Alan Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

Boys, don't leave me now!"
    "Too late," Batman growled. "Your 'boys' are long gone."
    Ratcatcher tried to scramble to his feet, but Batman's foot sent him face first into the disgusting slurry that ran down the center of the sewer. Batman grabbed the villain's hands and roped them behind his back with a small length of bat-line.
    "Where's the loot, Flannegan?" the vigilante rasped. "Or do we have to do this the hard way?"
    A low rumbling noise echoed along the tunnel.
    At first, Batman dismissed it as a subway train on the downtown line. But the noise grew louder and closer, and Batman was puzzled to realize it was coming from underground–almost directly beneath his feet. Suddenly the sewer floor began to shake and quiver, as if the earth below were buckling.
    Another earthquake? Batman wondered. It can't be. We lined the whole city with seismic detectors after the last one.
    Batman grabbed Ratcatcher by his cuffed hands and dragged him hurriedly aside, throwing them both against the sewer wall. Just in time . . .
    The ledge was vibrating violently, and small sparks of blue light seemed to seep up through the cracks between the bricks. Then, with a deafening roar, a patch of floor the size of a manhole cover erupted as a solid column of blue light burst up from below.
    "Look out!" Batman yelled a warning to his prisoner as the column of energy powered its way up and smashed through the ceiling a couple of yards above them. Debris rained down, and Batman did his best to shield them both.
    Raymond Marcus sat on one of the hard wooden pews in the main body of Gotham Cathedral. For the first time in many weeks, there was a smile on his face–a smile that didn't hurt. John Consody, the main speaker at the night's event, was in top oratorical form. He was so inspiring, Marcus was glad he'd ignored Madame Cassandra's warning and come to the All-Faith meeting anyway.
    "Faith is the rock on which we must build our lives," Consody pontificated. He stood in the ornately carved wooden pulpit, addressing the thousand citizens who'd turned up to hear him speak. Many were obviously sick; a dozen pairs of crutches leaned against the pews, and several people in wheelchairs sat in the aisles off to the side. "The works of Man last only awhile, then crumble into sand. But faith endures forever."
    Everyone's attention was fixed intently on Consody as the congregants waited for what he'd say next. Waiting to see if the miracle would come.
    "If we have faith, all will one day be well. Faith can move mountains." The charismatic preacher's voice was growing louder, the words coming faster. "Faith uplifts the human spirit. Faith can heal all our ills!"
    This was the kind of language Marcus needed to hear. It was nearly three years since botched surgery had triggered his facial neuralgia. Three years of daily pain, pain that seemed to worsen with every passing hour, pain that defied the doctors' best efforts to banish or even alleviate it.
    One specialist had told him neuralgia was the most painful disease known to the medical community, as if Marcus should wear the fact as some kind of badge of honor. He knew exactly how painful it was. All he wanted was a cure.
    Surely, after all he'd been through, one tiny miracle wasn't too much to ask for?
    Marcus caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and turned his gaze from the pulpit to the nearby altar. Covered in a pristine white doth with golden stitching, the altar was backed by an oversized heavy plaster sculpture depicting Christ in his agony on the cross.
    Tiny sparks of bluish-white light seemed to be playing around the altar. Some of them rolled off the top, more like globules of mercury than flashes of light. Everyone else was fixated on Consody in the pulpit, and Raymond Marcus felt a sudden elation welling up inside him.
    Lurching to his feet, he pushed past a couple of people and into the aisle. The bluish light grew stronger as Marcus walked purposefully toward the altar, his