Previously in Wonder Woman…

Daughter. Princess. Warrior. When the amazon queen, Hippolyta, begged the goddesses of Olympus to breathe life into a body of clay, she never imagined that girl would grow into the champion of her people, known in the world of men as Wonder Woman!

Diana lays at death’s door, victim of a supernatural poison called akhlys. It’s up to her allies to keep her from slipping away.

A TOUCH OF DEATH

Part V

By Miranda Sparks

The sun was setting, and Ettahcandei showed no signs of tiring. Three times on the Terror Twister, once on the Space Rocket, twice on the Spinning Saucer, another couple trips down the log flumes, and a less-than-terrifying, more confusing bout through the House of Mystery, and with energy to spare! One might have thought the adolescent at her side would outlast her, but no. Endurance was bred into amazons, no matter their age.

Her brittle, yellow teeth sank into one end of a hot dog. Cassandra balked. It was impossible to tell which was more putrid. Once, when she was a child, she would have called it her favorite food. That was before she developed a social conscience and turned vegetarian.

“You know what that’s made of, right?”

Ettahcandei nodded. “Sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. Your world is lousy with it. More addictive than cocaine, you know.”

“Rats,” she said, “and pigeons, raccoons, and offal…”

The old woman chuckled. “Girl, you’ll have to do better to sway me. I’ve eaten the raw hearts of beasts, drank their blood, even bathed in it. There was a time when many of us, before the amazons, were lost in our barbarity. In all my days, I’ll never forget the depths to which I sank to survive.”

Just the thought turned Cassandra’s stomach. As if hot dogs weren’t bad enough.

“Wait,” she said, “what do you mean ‘before the amazons’?”

Ettahcandei sank her teeth into another bite and chewed without refinement. “Did you think us born immortal? No, girl. Our immortality was a gift, bestowed by the gods unto those who’d suffered.”

If Cassandra’s mother were there, she would have told her daughter off for not realising the obvious. ‘Learning is knowing how to ask the right questions,’ her thoughts echoed for the umpteenth time.

“So who were you before?”

“We come from all parts,” said Ettahcandei. “Africa, Asia, Persia, the frozen North, and Greece, of course. I, myself, am a daughter of Egypt, though you could hardly tell from my complexion.”

“Or your accent.”

The old woman reeled. “What of my accent?”

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra said. “I meant to say it’s indistinct. I thought you were Greek.”

“My accent is very distinct,” Ettahcandei went on. “Though dialects change, and few speak my language as I learned it; but make no mistake, I was born in Egypt.”

“But you worship Greek Gods.”

The old woman nodded. “We met the gods of Olympus in Greece, yes, but they are not gods of a nation, but rather of the world. They might have a chosen tribe, but the worship of any deity knows no border.”

Ettahcandei considered the hot dog. Suddenly it wasn’t as sweet, not as satisfying. She dropped it into a nearby trashcan and sighed.

“Many of us were slaves and concubines,” she said. “Few had ever picked up a sword, but where we lacked experience we had our queen, Hippolyta. She inspired us to shatter our chains, take arms, and end the tyranny of the men who oppressed us. I despise her for my exile, but will always love her for my freedom.”

What more could be said? What more could be asked? There would be time for that later. Now was the time to reflect, for Ettacandei and Cassandra both.

“This is why you, too, will be an amazon,” she said.

Cassandra paused. “But I’m just a girl. An American. I’ve… never…”

“Did you not hear me? I said an amazon comes from all parts! American, it matters not. You, too, are a woman who has lived under the heel of men; who has yet to find her power. The circumstances might be different, but heed my words-”

A pale glow pulsed under the varsity jacket Ettahcandei disguised herself in. The Eye of Graeae beckoned her.

“We must go,” she said, grimly, and wasted no time before moving.

“Where?” Cassandra asked. She received no answer.

A three star Michelin chef Teddy Long was not, but what he made he made well. His vegetable gnocchi with basil pesto was a favorite, even with the ten year old whose primary diet was cheese. Though it didn’t have to be restaurant quality to be perfect, so long as the family was together.

Donna stared across the table. What was a day cut short was somehow longer than the rest. There was work open on the laptop in the next room, and a dozen text messages gone unanswered, but they could wait. She needed to be home; needed her husband and child, and to curl on the sofa with a movie and not think.

“Art, can you go set up the Blu-Ray?” Teddy asked.

The girl frowned. “But I haven’t finished eating yet.”

“Just this once I’ll let you eat in the living room,” he said. “Go on. Pick a movie. Mom and I need a moment.”

Of course Artemis would pick the Lego Movie, despite playing it to death. Donna groaned. “Maybe family night wasn’t the hottest idea,” she murmured with a weak smile.

As soon as their daughter was gone, Teddy reached over and took her hand. His was the soft smile of a man who knew how to wait, whose shoulders would help bear the burden she couldn’t share. 

“So much for eggplant parmigiana,” Donna scoffed.

“Cooking is easy if it gives you room to process,” he said. Damn him for being so good.

Donna shook her head. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Sounds like it. You want to talk?”

‘Yes, but no,’ she didn’t say. There was no putting into words the things she’d seen or felt, not for lack of trying. Her mouth hung open, but all she could do was shake her head. Donna choked, holding back sobs, hating herself for being so vulnerable. For heaven’s sake, she was supposed to be the strong one.

Teddy squeezed. “It’s okay. Just take it from the top. We’ve got all night.”

She tensed. “I-I-I don’t know how to describe it, Teddy. She… put that magic rope on me, and the next thing I knew…”

“Was it?” he asked. “Magic, I mean.”

Donna shrugged. “There’s no other explanation. Whatever it was touched my soul. I don’t know how, but… it showed me impossible things.”

“Like a delusion,” he said, delicate with every word.

She shook her head. “It was real. All of it. Real.”

There’s no pamphlet with a protocol on surviving the supernatural, but Teddy was writing one in real time. He pulled closer, kissed her hand, and let her nuzzle into his shoulder. He peered into the next room to check on Artemis, and sure enough, she’d found the Lego Movie.

“What did you see?” he asked.

She would have answered if she could, but some truths defied words. Instead she clung to him, the safest port in any storm. It was a small respite, but respite all the same.

Donna’s cell phone chirped. She raised her head to meet it.

“Don’t answer,” Teddy said.

“I’ve been ignoring it all day. I really should-“

“They’ll leave a message.”

Donna frowned. “If they could leave a message, they wouldn’t be calling.”

Teddy rolled his eyes as she answered, but knew better than to argue. Donna was Donna, and no matter the circumstance a part of her was always on the clock.

“Long here.”

She transformed in an instant. The tears vanished and her features hardened. Donna was for home, Agent Long was for work. So much for a night with the family. Teddy knew the drill.

“I’ve got to go,” she told her husband, already halfway to the car. Donna snatched the keys, near slamming the door behind her in a whirlwind.

“I’ll be here,” Teddy said, not that he had to be happy about it.

Many psychologists agreed that if Donna Long had a power it would be the ability to compartmentalize her emotions, no matter how complex. From five years old she was able to tease fact and feeling apart, while acknowledging her own biases. To that end, Donna had learned to absolve herself of responsibilities that did not belong to her; to let go of problems she had no power to address. 

What problems she did have were met without complaint, because what good was complaining when the work still needed doing? Wishing it away was just as useful, and leaving things be was unbearable. Rarely could she trust others to do it on their own, and one of the few people she could count on was herself. But oh, how she wished this could be somebody else’s problem; how she wished she could turn and drive into the night. Her stomach twisted the closer she was to an Agency medical facility with the dread of seeing her again.

Agent Long raced into the hospital and ignored the beating of her chest. Her fists tightened to ease her anxiety. Once in therapy she was told that the trick was to keep breathing – slow four through her nose, hold, slow four out through her mouth, hold. Wash, rinse, repeat. It had served her well thus far.

She arrived at Diana’s room to find she wasn’t alone. Colonel Trevor stood to one side, apparently resigned to the pair standing either side of the bed; a teenage girl with long, blond hair, and an impossibly old woman, frail and hunched over.

The old woman snatched her hands. “Good! The Mother is here!”

“The… what?”

Steve shrugged. “Don’t ask me. They just showed up. Said they were friends of Diana.”

“I just go where she goes,” said the blond girl, sheepishly.

“No more talking!” the old woman snapped. “We have much work to do. Come, come!”

She should have protested, but Agent Long was out of her depth. So much had happened in such a short time that reason failed her. In a world where supermen, gods and monsters suddenly existed, there was no longer a means of explaining things away.

The old woman stood Donna at the end of the bed and took her hand. The blond girl took the other. They closed the circle and loomed over Wonder Woman like witches in some kind of ritual.

When Donna saw Diana, she was in shock. This hero – the child of goddesses if the stories were believed – who towered above most others was a waste of her former self. If there was any betrayal deeper than a body devouring itself Donna couldn’t imagine it. That it should happen to one so beloved was a crime against nature, no matter her feelings.

“O Hecate,” said the old woman. “The triple goddess; watcher of the night, and keeper of feminine magicks; we reflect your aspects in tribute – mother, maiden, and crone, and call upon your aid where mortal hands fail.”

Donna tried to pull away, but both the girl and the old woman held tight.

“Just go with it,” said the girl. There was skepticism there, same as Donna’s, but she was resigned to it. Perhaps, Donna thought, she should do the same.

“Hecate,” the old woman droned, “hear us…”

The profiles of a thousand kooks had crossed Donna’s desk at the FBI; typically men whose deities desired the same things they did – money, sex, control. There was no reason to think the old woman was any different. She was probably some con artist turned new age narcissist, preying on a girl’s want of spiritual connection and the popularity of neopaganism.

A gentle whirlwind churned with no apparent source. Donna started. Another trick, surely. There was no such thing as magic, even if the air was rife with it. Her senses swore it was just as real as it was potent.

“Focus dear,” said the old woman.

Above the bed appeared a twinkle; at first like the flame of a candle, but growing brighter by the moment. Its light radiated through her chest, permeating her spirit, and connected it with the – they could only be called ‘witches’ – at either side.

“YOU,” said not one voice, but three; chirpy, grizzled, and maternal in unison. She/they turned to Donna, and widened its incandescent scope.

“ARE YOU YOUR SISTER’S KEEPER?” she/they asked.

Donna gazed in awe. Words failed her. Visions she could dismiss, but it was another thing to experience delusion in real time. Except it was no delusion. Nothing had ever felt more true.

“I… I-”

“Answer her, dear,” said the old woman.

She squeezed her companions by the hands. “I don’t have a sister,” she said.

“YET HERE SHE LAYS BEFORE YOU,” pressed the goddess/es. “YOU WOULD DENY YOUR OWN SPIRIT? THE TWO OF YOU SHARE MORE THAN FLESH, DONNA LONG; YOUR CONNECTION RUNS DEEPER THAN BLOOD.”

What could she/they mean by that? Donna shook her head as though she could rattle the images from her mind; of a guard, a witch, a lost island, and a mother who loved her into literal being. But that truth required a sacrifice she would never be ready for.

“‘SISTER’ DOES NOT ENCAPSULATE YOUR BOND, FOR YOU BOTH ARE THE OTHER’S SALVATION.”

“Please,” said the blond girl. “Diana needs you.”

Donna looked upon the waning shell in front of her and met her dread. The world was a stranger place with a Wonder Woman in it, and in that strangeness there was hope. To extinguish it now would be a crime against existence. She braced herself and stared into the light.

“I am,” she said. “I am my sister’s keeper!”

“SO IT IS KNOWN, SO IT IS PROCLAIMED, SO IT SHALL BE,” said the goddess/es. 

Like a mouth of fire the voice/s swallowed Donna Long, but she knew better than to let fear get the best of her. Never had she known more than she did in that moment that truth requires bravery, and bravery more than anything else is a choice.

The void was darker than dark, and in it Donna was alone. It was peaceful, but only by virtue of being absent from everything. Neither hot nor cold, utterly unfeeling, like a numbness that stretched for eternity. It should have been terrifying, but instead she was filled with… with…

“You have no business here,” said a boyish man. “You are anchored with the living for a long time to come, Donna Long. Please leave.” 

He, too, was an imposing figure; lithe and slender, with curls as black as his wings. More than that was a quality that defied explanation – something absolute, inevitable. Despite that his aura was gentle. He had no need to be fearsome; he was feared enough for his cosmic role.

Donna struggled for words. “I… I’m here for my…”

She saw her in the deepest dark; a reflection of herself clad in red, blue and gold – a warrior princess, not from Celestial City, but an island not found on any map. Hers was a life far removed from the other, but it did nothing to change what Hecate had told her; that they were two branches of the same tree.

“Diana!”

The void muted her cry. There were no walls for an echo to bounce.

“She will not suffer in oblivion,” said the dark angel. “She will no longer want for anything. I pray you take some comfort in that.”

In the hollow of her chest sparked outrage, and with it the power to dive further into the dark. A second angel, identical to the first, appeared by Diana’s side and ushered her with care toward the depths without end. It couldn’t end this way! Donna swam, kicking against the insubstantial to reach her other half.

“Diana!”

The amazon turned, confused. Her eyes were glazed over. She barely recognised her name, but the one calling was important. She gazed up at the woman so similar to herself but was lost to recognition.

Thanatos tugged her hand. “Come, princess. It is time.”

“She’s coming with me!” Donna roared, and threw her arm as far as she could reach. Burning tears flew into the darkness, aching as Donna pressed out the words. “You’re my sister, Diana! I’m a daughter of paradise, just like you! Please! I can’t lose you now that I’ve found you!”

A warmth pressed into the amazon’s side. It was the Golden Perfect illuminating the truth. This woman was her sister, her salvation! Diana blinked, and with a new well of strength reached to meet Donna halfway. Life surged between them like the fires of creation. The two were one, but still distinct. One soul, manifest as sisters; each a spiritual reserve for the other.

“I… Donna!”

“It’s me, Diana,” she said. “I’m here to rescue you!”

Thanatos and Thanatos circled like vultures, raining cold on their joy. 

“All you’ve done is condemn yourself, Donna Long,” said one.

“Diana’s fate cannot be salvaged,” said the other, “not even by gods.”

A wise woman would know to listen when death speaks, but neither Diana or Donna balked. Even if this was their end, they would end as a unified spirit. Few were ever so blessed on the eve of destruction.

Just then another figure manifested in the void. He was nimble and fleet of foot, gliding on winged sandals and a golden hat to match. In one hand he carried a staff around which a double-headed snake coiled. Wonder Woman gasped. It was the messenger of the gods. 

“Hermes!”

Sometimes known as the Psychopompus, one of the god’s many roles was to usher souls into death’s embrace. Who was to say he couldn’t do the opposite? But neither Diana or Donna begged, for a god will only do as he may. Hermes offered his staff, and from it the two snakes jumped to life. They curled, one following the other, with the heads on either end of its body twisting toward the lead. Slithering toward the sisters, the snakes followed the length of their joined arms and hissed. With a jolt they sunk fangs into both women. They shrieked in pain and fought to jerk away, but the serpent’s hold was greater than the two of them. Suddenly there was a new sensation, as warmth ran down one snake’s throat while the other fed it to the amazon.

Both Donna and Diana snapped with realisation. Who knew the answer would be so simple!

Donna gasped as though waking from a fever dream, and broke hold with the old woman and the girl. So great was the force of the experience that she nearly lost her feet!

Colonel Trevor raced to her side. “You okay?”

She nodded dumbly.

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost,” said the girl.

The old woman grinned, but didn’t turn to face her. “Our Mother has seen the path to salvation. The gods have touched her, and she’s been changed because of it.”

Donna clamored to find her balance. Her ‘sister’ still lay in the bed, balanced between life and death; so why was everyone still talking? She threw off her coat and rolled the sleeve of her blouse.

“Get a doctor,” she demanded. “Diana needs a blood transfusion! Now!”

The blond haired girl sprinted through the door, but Colonel Trevor shook his head. “They tried that. Nothing took.”

“It has to be my blood,” Donna told him. “I’m her, except human. The poison attacks the godly part of her. I can jumpstart her system!” An insane solution to an insane problem, but it wasn’t the first time. Steve wasn’t about to argue.

“Do as she says,” he told the doctors charging the room. In moments they had a tube hooked to Agent Long’s arm.

Progress was slow, but there was still progress. Color returned to the amazon’s skin, glowing pink through her olive complexion. Her skin grew firmer, and wasted limbs built their former mass in days. In medical terms it was no less than a miracle.

On the third day, Diana opened her eyes. Hers had been a sleep for the ages, but she felt anything but rested. She, like most amazons, thrived on movement, and too long in one position collected a debt in her joints. From the look of the room, it would be a while before she could dispel such pains.

Somehow she’d expected Steve to be there. He was her stalwart companion, after all, and worried after her more than any man should. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to keep a twenty four hour vigil, complete with a security team. Instead she found Agent Donna Long, lost in a magazine she wasn’t actually reading. To think that after their abrasive first meeting she would later appear as her watchdog.

“I had such strange dreams,” Diana said. “You were there.”

Donna didn’t so much as start. She pulled her chair closer to the bed and leaned in. “Let me guess. We were sparring on Fantasy Island.”

“Paradise Island,” Diana said with a chuckle. “And no.” She reached and squeezed the other woman’s hand. Donna squeezed back. “What are you doing here?”

Donna shrugged. “I wanted to be here. It’s not everyday you find out Wonder Woman is your long lost sister.”

“It’s not everyday you learn Donna Long is your sister, either,” she said.

Agent Long bristled and cast her eyes down. “You say that like I’m special.”

“You are special,” Diana told her.

Donna grimaced. “I’m good at my job. I’m an average wife and try like hell to be a good mom, but I’m not special like you’re special. You hear me?”

Diana frowned. “Because I’m Wonder Woman.”

“Because you’re Wonder Woman,” Donna echoed. “I mean, not all of us are born on magical islands, given life by gods, raised by warrior queens…”

“Except that you were.”

“I…”

Donna froze. The more she thought about Themyscira, the clearer it became. The more she thought about Hippolyta, the more she remembered her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her arms, her breast, and so much more. They were all the things she was desperate to remember about Dorothy, if she even existed. How was a person supposed to process that?

Diana unlatched the railing on the side of the hospital bed and invited the other woman to join her. With some hesitation, Donna climbed in beside her and took refuge under Diana’s arm.

“I’ll never see my home again, will I.”

“No,” Diana said. “I’m sorry you never got to know it better.” It was one of those moments that the truth was a curse.

“I wish I got to know my Mom better,” Donna said.

“Our ‘Mom’,” Diana added with a smirk. “She’d be tickled if you called her that. To me she was ‘Mother’.”

“How formal.”

“Only sometimes.”

They lay together, enjoying the stillness and the unexpected intimacy. For Diana it was like laying in the sun with her amazon friends. For Donna… 

She pulled her knees close and fretted. “How do you deal with all this?”

“All of what?”

“Gods and monsters,” Donna said.

The former princess thought about it for a moment. “Like any trial, you face them one at a time. One day you’ll look back, and be surprised by all you’ve accomplished.”

That should have been a comfort, but Donna’s brow tightened. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You will,” Diana said. “And you won’t have to do it alone.”

Donna considered the amazon and the assuredness of her smile. Her words were more than platitudes; they had a confidence few possessed. In Diana’s face, Donna saw hers reflected. Perhaps, one day, she could be the same.

“I’ve never had a sister before,” Donna said.

Diana pulled her closer and sighed dreamily. Family is often found in the most unlikely places.

There was no amethyst prism in man’s world; a crystal that refracted the rays of the sun into healing energy. The medicine of men was primal in comparison, and so Asteria would have to tend her wounds over time.

Pain wracked her body. No corner, inside or out, was unscathed. They were, however, paltry next to the wounds to her pride. She may have been an outcast, but Asteria was still an amazon – an elite among her former people! It had been three thousand years since she was last so humbled, and it took a small army to bring her to heel. A single sorceress? She should be ashamed. But Asteria would not succumb to self-pity; not when there was a new plateau to scale. Circe had allowed her to live, and that would prove the witch’s last mistake.

From the other side of the hospital curtain she heard voices. Men – stern men with heavy steps, not like the nurses and orderlies that fluttered between wards. Men such as these existed with singular purpose; a purpose Asteria was bred to defy. If only her wounds weren’t as grave.

By the time they arrived at her bed, Asteria was gone; sheets discarded, along with the wires monitoring her vitals, and the drip pulled from her flesh. A warrior with a mission had no time for ‘questions’ let alone time for rest.

NEXT ISSUE: With their lives turned upside down, Diana and Donna are in desperate need of a catch up. What better excuse to have dinner with friends? This and more in ‘Family Reunion’!