Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King by Alan Grant (best books to read for self development .TXT) 📕

back, knocking him forward. His body twisted as he fell so that he landed on his back, looking up at the stronghold towering above him.

A bright blue light seemed to be emanating from the summit, two hundred feet above him. There was the noise of thunder, but louder than any Hiram had ever heard. A retaining wall near the top gave way, and car-sized boulders began to bounce and slide down the steep slopes.

Someone screamed, and Hiram realized it was he himself, as the entire fortress of Ollantaytambo began to slip down the hillside toward him.

"Race you to the top!"

Tony Torres grinned broadly at his eleven-year-old brother, Xuasus. He gestured upward, and Xuasus swiveled his eyes to follow.

The Pyramid of the Sun loomed above them, backed by an almost luminous blue sky. Mexico City's infamous polluted haze lay miles away. From this angle, the pyramid's steep sides looked as if they were sheer, a climb more suited to professional mountaineers than the tourists and families who straggled up them.

Xuasus snorted. A year younger than Tony, he always lost when they competed at anything. It was a school trip, and their teacher, Mr. Perez, had brought the whole class to visit the Avenue of the Dead and its two pyramids, an hour's drive from the city district where they lived. Xuasus would rather buy an ice cream and check out the souvenir stalls with the pesos his mother had given him.

"I'll do your chores if you win," Tony added slyly, and Xuasus's determination evaporated.

"It's a bet!" he cried, already leaping onto the first of the hundreds of stone steps that made up the pyramid's sides. On some of the lower courses, the gap between steps was three feet and more, and only the energy of youth allowed the boys to take them at a run.

Mr. Perez and the rest of the class were still walking up the wide avenue from the Pyramid of the Moon, the teacher pointing out the carved stone jaguars and serpents that adorned the walls, the boys pretending to listen as they jostled each other and laughed. No one had noticed the Torres brothers stride on ahead.

Tony and Xuasus ignored the metal guide rail and the fifty or so people who were using it to haul themselves up the punishing climb. His early start had given Xuasus a slight lead, but over the sound of his own labored breathing he could hear his brother's footsteps catching up.

A plump, middle-aged woman shouted as they went racing by her, but neither could tell if it was admonishment or encouragement. They didn't slow down to find out.

Xuasus's lungs felt as if they were burning, and his aching leg muscles threatened to quit at any moment. He forced himself on, no longer able to leap from step to step, but using his hands to help him vault up.

Tony was just about to pass his brother when he slipped, slamming his shin against the rough stone. He stopped and clutched his leg, half cursing, half crying.

Xuasus seized his chance and clambered on.

Seconds later, panting and gasping, Xuasus stood alone and victorious at the top. Tony was about twenty feet below, the race forgotten as he rolled up his trouser leg to inspect his injury. Xuasus's grin was so broad, his cheeks were beginning to hurt.

He turned himself to the four directions, looking out over the tree-covered mounds that Mr. Perez said were ancient buildings waiting to be discovered. According to the teacher, their ancestors had lived here for many centuries. Beyond the plain, the smog from the city all but blotted out the panorama of surrounding volcanic hills.

On a sudden impulse, Xuasus knelt down on the flattened summit. He stared hard at the square stone in the center, its face worn smooth by centuries of human contact. For this was where mothers brought their children, to touch their heads against the warm rock and allow the pyramid's mystical energies to flow through them. A lot of the younger people laughed at the custom, but all the women said it brought good luck.

Xuasus's own mother had brought him here as a baby–not that touching his head to the stone seemed to have done him much good. He was hopeless at school, and though he was good enough at sports, Tony always beat him. Until today, of course.

Perhaps the energies are like the battery in my radio, he thought, stooping lower, his forehead only inches from the stone. They have to be recharged sometimes.

Before he knew what happened, a jet of erupting piezoelectricity took his head clean off.

"That man–the one skulking in the alley mouth. Tell me about him, Cassandra."

They were sitting in the window seat, and Cassandra craned her neck to see where Grandma was pointing. A trolley clattered by, blocking off her view, but the man was still there when it passed.

She couldn't see him distinctly. He appeared to be dressed all in black, and stood so that his face was concealed by shadows.

Cassandra looked at his feet. Strange. He's not wearing any shoes.

A sudden, unpleasant odor drifted in through the open window. The stench of decaying meat mingled with the old lady's lavender. Cassandra felt a terrible sense of foreboding. Something evil was coming her way.

The man was stepping out of the shadows. Cassandra tried to turn her head away, but it refused to move. Paralyzed, she could only watch, her heart pounding faster and louder in her chest as the figure looked directly up at her.

He had the face of a bull, and golden horns grew from the scalp above his ears.

With a strength of will she didn't know she possessed, Cassandra tore her gaze away. Then she started to shiver uncontrollably, and cowered, whimpering, against her grandmother.

A few time zones to the east of Gotham City, in the Republic of Ireland, Seamus Milligan gunned the engine of his Honda Big Red and sent it hurtling down the narrow, hedge-lined lane.

The cattle were in for the afternoon milking,