by CSyphrett and Martin Maenza
Continued from The Books of Magic: Curiosity Kills
On the school grounds of the Grimoire Academy of Applied Knowledge, a boy of twelve with untamed dark hair and round wireframe glasses found himself captivated by a peculiar scene. Standing at the metal fence that separated the Bestiary walkway from a secluded pasture, Timothy Hunter’s gaze was fixated upon a mysterious creature. In a patch of vibrant green, nestled away from prying eyes, stood an elegant black horse, its glossy coat shimmering under the warm sun. With a regal air, the equine specimen met Tim’s gaze, as if peering deeply into his very soul.
“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Tim murmured thoughtfully, hardly believing that the creature might comprehend his every word.
The horse responded, shaking its majestic head while emitting a gentle whinny. Timothy blinked rapidly, temporarily doubting his own senses. Could it be that this creature, so graceful and otherworldly, had understood him? Dismissing the fantastical notion as mere wishful thinking, Tim shrugged off the strangeness as mere coincidence.
While Timothy lingered, a foreboding shadow fell upon him, abruptly ending his reverie. The dry voice of Adam Frankenstein, the groundskeeper of Grimoire Academy, cut through the air.
“Detention again today, Tim?” Adam asked, his voice tinged with amusement.
Raising his gaze toward the towering figure of the jaundice-faced groundskeeper, Timothy grinned. There was something about Adam that brought to mind the monstrous characters from the classic creature features he had watched with his dad last Halloween.
“No, not this time,” Timothy replied sheepishly. “Ever since my detention a week ago, I’ve been trying to stay out of trouble.”
His gaze shifted back to the fence, his thoughts consumed by the enigmatic creature. “Though I do like walking through the Bestiary between classes,” Tim continued. “I can’t wait until I can sign up for Practical Cryptozoology next semester.”
With a nod of approval, Adam acknowledged Tim’s enthusiasm. “Good class. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
The boy’s curiosity piqued, he gestured toward the magnificent black horse that had entranced him earlier. “What do you know about this one, Adam?” he asked.
The groundskeeper, his face adorned with formidable scars, regarded the creature thoughtfully. “That’s no ordinary horse. I don’t know what to make of him. He seems to be waiting on something… or someone.”
Eyes wide with wonder, Timothy pondered the enigma before him. What or who could this captivating horse be waiting for? His imagination bloomed with possibilities, stirring him to investigate further.
***
In a quaint little diner in Houma, Louisiana, a handsome blond man with a strong jawline sat alone at a small table, his blue eyes sparkling with an appetite for adventure. The man savored the last dregs of his coffee, letting the warmth spread through his body before setting his empty cup aside.
As he paid for his beverage, he couldn’t help but appreciate the quaint charm of the rustic establishment. The elderly black woman behind the counter had a kind twinkle in her eyes as she observed him. “Thank you kindly, sir,” Maybelle Perkins said, her voice filled with warmth as she began clearing the tables.
Donning a large overcoat, the man stepped out onto the rain-kissed streets. Dark clouds loomed overhead, casting an ominous shadow over the town. He took a deep breath, the crisp air carrying a familiar scent of petrichor. “Smells like rain,” he murmured to himself, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. It was impossible to deny that he missed this planet sometimes.
Adam Strange was no ordinary traveler, and this was no ordinary visit. He had embarked on a journey that had spanned light-years, traversing the vastness of space to reach the quaint town of Houma. Once an explorer hunting down lost treasures in the lush rainforests of South America, his life had forever been changed by fate. On the precipice of certain death, a bolt from deep space originating from the planet Rann had struck him with precision.
A brilliant scientist from Rann named Sardath, in an effort to aid his people, had invented a revolutionary device called the Zeta-Beam. Although it had been meant for communication, it had inexplicably served as a teleportation ray that brought Adam instantly to the technologically advanced world of Rann. Soon enough, equipped with a jetpack and a laser pistol, Adam Strange became Rann’s greatest champion. Quickly falling in love with Sardath’s lovely daughter Alanna, the two were wed a few years later, and his heart broke a little each time he was teleported away from her.
Today, however, Adam’s mission differed in scale, though not in importance. He had come to this bayou town to deliver a message to one Abigail Cable from someone who loved her dearly. But there was a slight problem.
It seems Mrs. Cable is no longer living here, Adam mused. Found that out from one of her old neighbors. They said she went and took a teaching job out of town earlier in the month and wouldn’t be back until late Fall.
Adam sighed. Luckily, they just received a postcard from her. He had been permitted to look at the picture on the card, since the postmark was very cryptic. The picture was of an island, though not any he was familiar with. From a glance, Adam had concluded that the island was somewhere in the tropics, likely the South Pacific based upon the vegetation. In the text, Abby had mentioned the name Grimoire. After Adam had poured on the charm, the neighbor had kindly offered to let him borrow the postcard, which would allow him to locate Abby wherever she was and pass on the message he had for her.
With this, I can probably track her down, he told himself as he glanced at the postcard, knowing he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Determined to complete his mission before the Zeta-Beam energy wore off, Adam scoured the street for a phone. Upon finding one, he dialed a special number given to him by a few allies several years ago. Hope I still have access. It should still work.
With each click and ring, Adam’s anticipation grew. Finally, a familiar voice echoed through the receiver. “Yes?”
Relief washed over Adam as he replied, “It’s me, J’onn — Adam Strange. I’m in Louisiana, and I’m afraid I need a favor from the Justice League.”
J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter, chuckled warmly on the other end of the line. “Of course, Adam. You’re an honorary member of the JLA, after all. If you need to come up to the satellite, I can direct you to a transporter tube in New Orleans.”
Adam smiled in gratitude. “I do, actually. I’ll tell you everything when I get there,” he replied, hurriedly scribbling down the directions he received.
***
On Grimoire Island, Abby Cable sat at her desk in the classroom she used whenever the weather wouldn’t permit teaching outdoors. Her platinum-blonde hair cascaded around her face as she diligently graded a small stack of papers. Still, her thoughts were far from the students’ performance on their essay assignments. A wistful sigh escaped her lips.
Oh, Alec, she mourned silently. I miss you dearly. It tormented her that the man she loved had seemingly vanished without a trace, and she had no way of knowing if he was even alive or dead. She held on to the hope that he was still alive, but if that was the case, he must have been unable to reach out to her, or he would have done so by now. Still, what currently troubled her was that, according to the Headmaster, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the island at all until May at the very earliest. Consumed by thoughts that left her both heartbroken by Alec’s disappearance and frustrated by the fact that she could do nothing to find him, Abby absentmindedly applied increasing pressure to the red pencil in her hand until it suddenly snapped. With a glare of irritation, she flung the broken pieces onto the floor.
A voice abruptly cut through the room from the open doorway. “Hey, go easy on the school supplies.” Abby lifted her gaze to see her roommate and fellow instructor, Rose Psychic, standing there. “What did that innocent little pencil ever do to you?” Rose added, a hint of amusement glimmering in her eyes.
“Oh, nothing,” Abby replied, her pout morphing into a sigh of discontent.
With a sympathetic smile, Rose approached the desk. “You seem like you could really use a break,” she suggested. “Why not come down to the faculty lounge? Misery loves company, after all.”
“I don’t think I’d be good company right now,” Abby replied, downcast.
“Let us be the judge of that,” Rose gently insisted, reaching out to grab Abby’s hand. Reluctantly, Abby relented, allowing herself to be pulled away from her desk to join her friend.
As the two women made their way through the corridors, they passed by the stern figure of Gareth Gallowglass. Abby instinctively averted her gaze, feeling a twinge of unease around him.
For his part, the Headmaster seemed oblivious to their presence, his attention solely focused on his patrol around the school. Mr. Gallowglass was meticulous in his approach, firmly reprimanding students who dared to be tardy, as well as administering the occasional demerit. His stern efforts usually worked, for he rarely had to lecture anyone twice for the same bad behavior.
Today, Mr. Gallowglass found himself wandering the graduation course set a distance away from the school buildings. A wave of melancholy washed over him, as it invariably did whenever he visited this particular location. On a few rare occasions in the past, he had been forced to lay to rest those unfortunate souls who had been unable to overcome the challenges of the natural obstacle course. He prayed he wouldn’t have to repeat this ritual for any of the current student body.
After a moment of reflection, Gallowglass turned away, retracing his steps back to the administration building. Twelve teachers and three-hundred students, he pondered. This is the largest number we’ve ever had in the school’s history. And they all need vigilant supervision. His thoughts lingered on one particular student: Josh Cantrell, a third-year pupil who had given him cause for concern in the past. At least he seems to have learned his lesson and is keeping out of trouble, Gallowglass thought, shaking his head. For now, at least.
***
“Hello, J’onn,” Adam Strange greeted as he deftly stepped from the transparent tube. Moments earlier, he had stood in a nearly identical tube in the vibrant city of New Orleans. In the blink of an eye, his very molecules had been disassembled, only to be reassembled again a staggering 22,300 miles above Earth within the celestial headquarters of the Justice League of America.
“What brings you to Earth, Adam?” inquired the Martian Manhunter, rising from his seat.
“I’m doing a personal favor for someone,” Adam replied, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. “I’ve been searching for a certain lady by the name of Abby Cable, but she’s managed to elude me completely so far. I need to deliver a message to her from her husband — the Swamp Thing.”
J’onn’s brow furrowed as he absorbed this information, his somber demeanor speaking volumes. “I understand.”
Adam paused, concern on his face. “Is there something wrong?”
The Martian Manhunter nodded gravely. “Over a year ago, Swamp Thing overran parts of Gotham City and caused a great deal of property damage,” J’onn explained, considering his words carefully. “The truth is, Adam, Swamp Thing severely damaged the city’s infrastructure and caused a great deal of chaos during a time when the world was still recovering from the Crisis. (*) The U.S. government now believes him to be either defeated or destroyed. His return now would inevitably have certain… consequences.”
[(*) Editor’s note: See “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” Swamp Thing v2 #53 (October, 1986).]
Adam took a moment to absorb this, his mind racing with possibilities. “Well, putting aside the matter of Swamp Thing’s possible return, can you still help me track down his wife?” he asked earnestly.
J’onn nodded, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “What do you require, Adam?”
Producing the postcard borrowed from Abby’s neighbor, Adam held it up for J’onn to see. “Can your computers perform a search using this image? I’m hoping we can compare it to any known tropical land masses resembling the one depicted here.”
J’onn carefully accepted the postcard, focusing his gaze upon it. “I believe our computers can certainly assist in this endeavor,” he confirmed.
Crossing the room to a sophisticated scanner situated by the main console, J’onn delicately fed the postcard into the machine. Within seconds, the image had been digitally replicated and loaded onto the JLA’s network. “I cannot determine how long the search might take,” J’onn warned. “However, I will do my best to expedite the process. Please wait here while I gather the information.”
Adam Strange nodded. “I have faith in your computers, my friend.”
As the minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity, Adam began pacing up and down the room, his mind swirling. What if Abby was in danger? What if he was too late to deliver her husband’s message? The weight of his mission settled heavily on his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency coursing through his veins.
Looking up from his console, J’onn gestured toward the adjacent galley. “Perhaps, while we wait, I can offer you some refreshment.”
Adam shook his head. “Thanks, but I just had a cup of coffee.”
“A cookie, then?” J’onn asked, offering him a plate of dark cookies, each one with a creamy white filling.
Adam’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oreos?” he remarked. “I haven’t had these in ages. I love these things!”
J’onn’s lips curled into a small smile. “As do I.”
Seated comfortably, both men savored the delectable treats as the computer tirelessly scoured its vast database. Images of tropical islands flickered across the screen, each one a potential match to the postcard’s exotic locale.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, J’onn returned to the console. A moment later he turned to face Adam. “It appears we have found a possible match,” he said, his voice tinged with caution. “There is a landmass in the South Pacific that bears a striking resemblance to the one in the photo.”
Indeed, one particular island appeared to closely resemble the one in the picture. “Let us investigate further,” J’onn declared, taking command of the keyboard. Through his maneuverings, the true identity of the enigmatic island was unveiled.
A spark of hope ignited within Adam’s chest. “That’s incredible!” he exclaimed, leaning forward. “Is that it?” he asked breathlessly. “Do you think Abby could be there?”
“It’s certainly possible,” J’onn offered cautiously. “However, by all appearances it’s a deserted island, untouched by civilization. No official name, no nearby transporter tube, and conspicuously absent from all recognized maps. Very strange.”
“Still, that’s hardly a problem for Adam Strange,” quipped the space adventurer, discarding his overcoat to reveal a vibrant red uniform that clung impeccably to his form. Folding his civilian clothing neatly into a duffel bag, he retrieved his trusty Rannian jetpack, a marvel of technology, ensuring it was securely fastened. Pulling his finned cowl over his head, Adam was now prepared for his imminent voyage.
“I have identified the nearest transporter tube,” J’onn informed him, pointing toward a map on the screen. “But be warned, Adam, this island could be dangerous. Based on the limited information in our database, some of which appears to be classified, it could be home to any number of deadly creatures.”
Adam’s heart leaped at the thought of the journey ahead of him. He had faced danger many times before, and he knew deep down that this was his chance to make a difference, to reunite a husband and wife torn apart by circumstance, no matter how unusual that couple might be. “I’ll take my chances,” he declared. “I’m not about to let anything or anyone stand in my way.”
Examining the coordinates, Adam remarked, “It’s a ways off, but getting there shouldn’t be too difficult. Once near the ground, I’ll have to navigate by dead reckoning. Here’s hoping I don’t miss it.”
J’onn J’onzz readied himself to beam his friend back to the planet’s surface. The search for Abby Cable had begun in earnest.