Disclaimer – I own nothing! No money was made from this; blah, blah, blah... You know the rest.

Thanks to Richie Cunningham and SoldierG-65434-2 for beta-ing the ever-loving shit out of this.

Kill the Lights

Zatanna's heels clicked against the wooden floor of the stage as she strode across it, counting her steps.

One, two, three, four...

She stopped and sighed loudly, her hands going to her hips. "There's not enough space."

"Hmm? Whazzat?"

Zatanna turned her head and looked to Mikey. "The stage, there's not enough space. We won't be able to do the Doubles trick. I was hoping to do it for the finale."

Mikey leaned back on the balls of her heels, a long plank of wood resting on her shoulders. Her messy blonde hair was hidden beneath a baseball cap, and she was wearing scruffy jeans and a worn grey shirt that might have once had Zatanna's trademarked logo on it, but now only showed a patchy dark image that could have been anything. She was standing in the middle aisle, roughly halfway up the seats of the auditorium and still far too close to the stage for Zatanna's liking.

"Just scooch in closer boss, you don't need all that space to make the trick work," Mikey said with an indolent smile.

Zatanna shook her head and crouched down, skimming her fingertips across the worn wood of the old stage. "Er, yeah I do. There's no way we'd fit the mirrors in the right places if I'm pressed in too close."

"Could always cheat." Mikey twirled her finger round in a circle.

"I am shocked at you Mikey, shocked right down to my very core," Zatanna replied. She thought a moment, resting her chin on her hand. "I guess I could finish with a different trick... Maybe the water chamber?"

"Think everyone's sick of seeing that one boss."

"Well it's not as though I'm getting paid for this. You only get the innovated tricks when you shell out the cash." Zatanna stood up and dusted off her jeans. The stage was also unacceptably dirty, but that was something that Mikey would no doubt take care of.

"This is for charity though."

Zatanna sighed loudly. "Well what then? The stage is tiny, I can't fit half of my equipment on it and that means I can't even do half my usual routine. Why are they holding this in such a small place anyways?" The theatre, Imaginarium, or something ridiculous like that, was probably the smallest she'd been in years; since she'd first started out and she'd performed card tricks in dingy clubs and risked the wandering, groping hands of salacious drunks. She walked to the edge of the stage and hopped down, moving towards Mikey.

"Nice an' intimate though, dontcha think?"

"If I wanted to get up close and personal with the audience I'd be a street magician."

Mikey smiled lazily at her. "I'm told it's the way forward. Edgy, y'know, something the kids can get into."

"Setting myself on fire in the middle of the road while I deal a pack of cards is not edgy, it's just stupid." Zatanna turned and looked back at the stage. "I'm thinking a big escapist trick. Not the water chamber, maybe the gallows, something like that."

"I think ya just want to be tied up, boss."

Zatanna couldn't help but smirk at that. "Maybe I do, it can be pretty fun."

"Now I know why the bad guys bound and gag you so much."

"You're hilarious, Mikey, did I ever mention that?"

Mikey placed the plank of wood on the ground and put her hands on her hips and exhaled loudly, as though the wood had weighed a huge amount and had been taxing for her, which was ridiculous, Zatanna rarely saw Mikey without tools or materials in hand and knew that she could easily lift far more than her moderate frame suggested. And for all of her teasing, Zatanna also knew that Mikey was just as frustrated by the lack of space as she was; the small stage meant less room for Mikey's fantastic constructs and props.

"Magic cabinet!" Mikey said loudly and triumphantly.

Zatanna cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Be more specific, we have a lot of magic cabinets."

Mikey's replying smirk was slow and insidious. "I'm thinking of The magic cabinet."

At first Zatanna still felt confused. She had more magic cabinets than she knew what to do with. Hell, pretty much every cabinet she owned was magical in some way, whether it was trick doors, fake walls or ones that transported the occupant to other... Shit!

"No way!" Zatanna said emphatically. "Absolutely not. You do remember what happened last time we used that cabinet, don't you?"

"We lost our audience volunteer." Mikey had traded the smirk for a grin that made her look a little bit more than crazy, as though she'd taken some sort of sick pleasure from losing some poor unsuspecting man in an entirely different plane of existence. "You found him again though. It all worked out in the end."

"Not the point. I had to take him for dinner and pay him off. I thought he was gonna sue the pants off of me."

Mikey gave her a sly look. "From what I hear he didn't have to sue you to get your pants off."

"Shut it, Mikey," Zatanna said in mock-anger, and then she grinned. "He was pretty nice. And he was ever so grateful to me for saving him, and he really did just want to thank me for such a nice dinner."

"Of course you had to show him just how sorry you were about what happened to him."

"Of course." They both laughed softly at the memory. Really, the man had just been so relieved that Zatanna had found him that the dinner had seemed unnecessary, as had the money she'd paid him. But it hadn't hurt to slip a mild enchantment on the money to ease his mind, to help him get through his memories of being momentarily stuck in a different plain of existence that was inhabited by beings that looked as though they had no right to exist. The enchantment also soothed any feelings of anger he might have had towards her; it was a dirty, sneaky thing to do, but then she didn't need him creating a fuss and suing her.

"So!" Zatanna clapped her hands together. "The plan is to finish with the gallows, unless you can think of something better. You get that set up; I'm going back to the hotel."

"Lucky me," Mikey muttered, tipping her hat back and eyeing the small stage. "You enjoy your relaxing evenin' and I'll be here doin' all the hard work."

"Sounds about right."

"Enjoy yourself, boss." Mikey waved Zatanna off as she made her way towards the stage, wood and hammer in hand.

/\/\/\

The street outside the theatre was covered in snow. It had been pure white when Zatanna had entered the theatre over three hours ago, but now the traffic and the inhabitants of Gotham had turned it to grey slush.

Sighing, Zatanna pulled the collar of her coat up and stuffed her hands in her pockets. It was already dark despite it only being early afternoon. If offering advice Zatanna would say that no one should walk the streets of Gotham when it was dark, especially a woman, really it was just asking for trouble. But if you didn't go out when it was dark then you'd probably never leave your home. Gotham only seemed to have a scant few hours of daylight per day, and even then that was dull and muted. It was as though the darkness of the city swallowed the light. She had found that it did that to people too. It took everything that was good about them and twisted it. It was why, despite owning a rather splendid home here, she spent less and less of her time in Gotham. She especially wanted to avoid her mansion; her large and very empty mansion; much better to spend her time in a hotel. A warm and bright – or as bright as Gotham ever got – hotel, filled with lots of lovely people. Most of who were not Gothamites and therefore not dead inside.

She hurried across the road, nearly slipped on an icy patch, and headed up the street to her hotel. It was lit up like a Christmas tree and bored young rich people with entirely too much time on their hands were milling around outside. Gotham seemed to attract a certain type of the young and rich, the reckless thrill seekers who had decided that jumping out of planes was not adventurous enough. They flocked to Gotham in the hopes of seeing something particularly twisted, or at the very least to see a glimpse of the Batman. They never did of course, but that wouldn't stop them from fabricating a whole story out of their time here. She smirked at that thought and squeezed her way through the crowd. "'Scuse me."

"Whoa! Hey!" A voice called and someone grabbed her by the arm and swung her round. She tensed and a spell was on the tip of her tongue ready to blast who ever his was into a whole other dimension. "Ain't you the magician?" A young face came into view, a man though pretty enough to be a girl with large, bright green eyes and dirty blonde hair that fell over them.

"I'm sorry?" she said. She relaxed ever so slightly since there was probably no threat near, but she kept the spell in mind since this was Gotham and everyone here was crazy in one form or another.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "You're that Mistress of Magic, right? Zantanna?"

It took some form of extreme self control to not punch him out for that. Why the hell could no one ever get her name right? It wasn't that difficult. "No, I'm not. Sorry, you're mistaken."

He frowned and it suddenly occurred to her that he was actually quite cute; possibly too pretty and almost certainly too young for her, but cute nonetheless. "You sure? You look like her."

She opened her mouth to reply, half-tempted to come clean and try her luck with him; it would be nice to have some company for the night, but common sense prevailed and she shook her head. "I'm pretty sure I'm not a magician. Sorry to disappoint."

He looked a little sheepish now and rubbed at the back of his neck. "What about a superhero?"

Oh my, was he hitting in her? It was very tempting now to take him upstairs to her room and ruin him. "I'm definitely not one of those." She meant every word. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's cold out here." She moved past him and towards the hotels entrance.

"I'm Carson," he called after her. She stopped and turned. He shrugged. "In case you were wondering and in case I see you again."

Because he was cute she smiled at him. "I'm here all week. Maybe you'll see me around."

He smiled and she turned her back on him, heading inside the hotel and sweet, wonderful warmth.

The foyer was bustling with people, all of whom she ignored as she made her way to reception, her heels clicking on the polished tiles. She had just made it to the desk, her mouth open to speak when she heard a familiar voice.

"Zee!"

She turned, feeling slightly surprised, and was pulled into a one armed hug that lifted her off the ground and likely cricked a few ribs.

"Bruce!" she complained loudly, pushing herself away from him. He only grinned at her. "Warn me next time. I didn't know what the hell was going on."

She didn't think she would ever get used to seeing him like this, so unlike the real him. Bruce Wayne stood proud and tall, wearing a very expensive looking suit, half-smiling, half-leering at her with a glass of what smelled like scotch in hand. His hair was tousled and there was a rosy cast to his cheeks, he looked drunk but she knew better. A thin pink line leading from his bottom lip, a healing scar, was the only hint to his truer and darker side.

From behind him two disgruntled gentlemen appeared. The older of the two wiped at his bald head with a handkerchief. "My Wayne," he said disapprovingly, "was that really necessary?"

"Hmm?" Bruce turned to them, looking as though he'd completely forgotten that he had company. "Oh, I'm sorry Matthew, Alistair. Let me introduce my friend, this is – "

"Zatanna Zatara." The younger man stepped forward and held out his hand. "Alistair Hopkins."

She shook his hand and offered a friendly smile. Two cute guys in one day, things were looking up.

Bruce cleared his throat and Zatanna dropped Alistair's hand, only just realising that she had probably held onto it for too long. "Alistair and his father were just showing me around this place," Bruce explained, gesturing grandly with his glass of scotch. "Matthew here is the owner."

Matthew looked quite smug about it for some reason. "This is my first hotel in Gotham," he said proudly. "I have one in Metropolis, Central City, Washington..." he reeled off several more cities that Zatanna didn't care to listen to, her eyes were lingering on Alistair. He kept glancing at her too, a smile twitching his lips. He didn't seem at all deterred by the fact that Bruce had an arm casually draped across her shoulders.

"Fascinating!" Bruce said loudly, cutting off whatever it was that Matthew Hopkins was babbling about.

Matthew looked affronted but Alistair just smiled. "So Miss Zatara, are you visiting Gotham for business or pleasure?"

"People visit Gotham for pleasure?" she said innocently. Alistair laughed, Matthew looked annoyed and Bruce chuckled but gave her shoulders a tight squeeze. A warning. No bad mouthing his city. "I'm doing a show this weekend," she explained.

"You are?" Bruce said sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yes, Bruce, the Wayne Foundation is one of the charities involved in it."

He blinked. "It is?"

Matthew groaned and Alistair looked embarrassed. Zatanna had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. How did he manage to sound and look so utterly clueless? She thought that he might actually be the best actor that ever lived. It was like he turned off a light in his head and all the intelligence and cunning that she could usually see glimmering in his eyes disappeared.

"Yes Bruce," she said managing to sound suitably patient, as though she was used to dealing with an air-headed friend. "So you'd better be there." She jabbed her finger at his chest in playful warning. She sincerely hoped that he would be there, if only because he made such a good volunteer for tricks that she really shouldn't use a volunteer for. "I've had a long, hard day gentlemen and while it's been an absolute pleasure to meet you, I'm afraid I have to be going."

"Good thinking, Zee." Bruce downed his drink in a single gulp and forced the empty glass into Matthew Hopkins' hand. "An early night it is." He managed to make it sound very suggestive and before Zatanna could say anything he had grabbed her by the hips and steered her to reception, trapping her against the desk with his body. She could hear the shocked gasps and scandalised mutters of those nearby. His lips were brushing against her ear. "Don't react," he ordered.

She nodded and quickly got the key card for her room.

"Elizabeth Montgomery? Really?" he actually sounded amused by her choice of fake ID, real amused not the pretend amused he had been earlier. He pulled her towards the elevators, yelling a cheerful good-bye to the Hopkins, both of whom looked equal amounts of shocked and confused.

They weren't alone in the elevator and Bruce stood entirely too close to her. It occurred to her that she probably looked very uncomfortable with him looming over her and that him dragging her, looking mildly terrified to a hotel room would probably damage his playboy image and make him look more like a sexual predator. Oh well, a little bit of darkness to go with the fun. This was Gotham after all.

He stayed close to her, pressed against her back, until they were inside her room and the door was shut. His hands were still on her hips, they felt sturdy and secure and he felt warm behind her. "Cameras?"

She shook her head. "I checked; there aren't any. I've also put up magical wards."

He grunted, never one to trust magic, and moved away from her.

"What's going on Bruce?"

"Why'd you pick this hotel?" he asked. His voice sounded lower, losing all of its false cheer but oddly sounding warmer for it.

"Because it's close to the theatre," she replied.

"That's all?"

"No, I picked it because it was built on a magical nexus and sleeping here makes me tingle all over." She rolled her eyes. "My manager suggested it. The theatre is just down the street."

"You have a house here, why not stay there?"

"Because it's been empty for months and I didn't want to be stuck on my own. What's going on?"

He nodded, probably ignoring her question, and cast a glance around the room. "Wards?"

"No one can hear or see us." She drew a cross over her chest with her finger. "Promise."

"Take us to the cave."

"And then you'll explain why you're acting more bat-shit than usual?"

"Promise."

It almost looked as though he was smiling.

/\/\/\

The Bat Cave was, of course, cold. Zatanna didn't understand how Bruce could stand it. She had seen him walk around the cave topless and without shoes (though never pantless, which was, she had to admit, somewhat disappointing) and he had barely shivered. She was fully clothed and wearing a long, thick coat and she felt chilled to the bone.

Bruce moved swiftly to the main console and Zatanna followed.

No matter how many times she visited the Bat Cave she always felt awed. She had been inside the Fortress of Solitude and seen the galactic wide wonders it contained, and she had walked through the temples of Paradise Island with its lush architecture and rich history, and she still thought that the Batcave was more magnificent than both. She always noticed something new and different whenever she came here. It was a tribute, a shrine, to how great Bruce – the Batman – really was. And it was a constant reminder to the darkness within him.

"The giant penny is still my favourite," she said smiling at him. He didn't smile back, but then she hadn't expected him to. "So then," she said, "what's going on? I assume magic's involved somehow."

"It's a possibility." His fingers flew along the keyboard, too fast for her to follow. "You haven't heard – "

"Any rumblings on the magical plane? 'fraid not." She craned her neck back and looked to the giant screen. "Gotham's old and really it should be rich with magical energies, and there are hints of something deeper, something dark, but it's not really known as a meeting point for people like me. It's not the most welcoming of places for us." Bruce didn't react, as though he didn't realise that he was a huge reason why Gotham was such an unwelcoming place for magical beings. With a slight shrug Zatanna continued, "No one comes here to feed off the magical energies. Probably because it's so sinister, so..." she trailed off and repressed a shudder. How could she explain it to Bruce, someone who only half believed in magic and made no attempt to understand it? She could feel the corruption, the evil, within Gotham emanating from every stone; every road, every building had that same feeling of wrongness to it. "Gotham is not a fun place for people like me."

"And yet you own a house here," he pointed out.

"My dad bought that. If I had an ounce of sense I'd sell it." And then she would have less of an excuse to see Bruce. "All I'm saying is that few magical beings come to Gotham for a visit, never mind to try to stir up – oh!"

"This picture was taken at a crime scene just two nights ago. The actual murder was approximately seventy-eight hours ago."

Zatanna's hand covered her mouth, she felt sick. The screen showed multiple images of the same crime scene; different angles and close-ups. It was a room, a basement from what she could tell; an altar was set-up in the middle of the room. Spread naked across the altar was a young girl, her blonde hair had been roughly hacked away and spread around her; deep gouges covered her arms and legs, and her eye lids had been cut away, her sightless eyes stared up at nothing. That wasn't the worst, or most gruesome, part though. Whoever had done this, whichever sick bastard it was, had opened the girl up from groin to sternum. The flesh and muscle was peeled back revealing the mess of organs within.

"This is Abigail Williams. Thirteen years old. She went missing just over a week ago." Bruce's voice was emotionless; cold and professional, revealing nothing of what he might be feeling.

Zatanna turned away from the screen, not at all caring what Bruce might think of her inability to stomach such a disgusting scene.

"What do you make of it?"

"That there are some seriously twisted people in this world!" And that a large percentage of them were in Gotham.

"Zatanna." His voice was so calm that it infuriated her and she turned to face him, her anger showing in her expression, but because he was Bruce he just ignored her. "I need you to focus. I know it's difficult but I need your help. I will catch who did this."

Asking for help was still a new concept for him, and the fact that he was asking for her help made her push her anger at him aside. She exhaled. "You'd better." Steeling herself, she looked again at the screen. "Anything in particular I'm looking for?"

"Anything that might help."

Well that was specific. Forcing her gaze away from the girl – Abigail – Zatanna took in the room around the body. "The altar would suggest a ritual sacrifice," she said.

Bruce nodded in agreement. "As would some of the objects found in the room." His fingers tapped at the keyboard and several images appeared on the screen. "A chalice, three candles and a crude carving of what looks to be a demon. I haven't been able to determine which demon it might be."

"What kind of wood is it carved from?"

"It's not. It's carved from resin."

"Well that's not going to do any good," Zatanna muttered. "Won't be able to summon many demons with resin moulds."

"You think this was an attempted summoning?"

"It's possible," Zatanna admitted. "The altar... The sacrifice... But apart from that they're going about it in the complete wrong way. It's probably just a couple of whackos playing around than anyone with any real power. Still, it's better to know for sure. Any chance you have one of the items?"

"No, the police have them."

Zatanna stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously? You're actually going to let the GCPD do their jobs?"

"I've already learned what I needed from the objects. No finger prints, no traces of DNA. They were clean."

"And only then you let the police have them. Some would call that tampering with the evidence." He shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating manner and said, "Not me though." Of course he wouldn't see it that way. Zatanna thought that sometimes Batman felt like the police tampered with his evidence. Which might be a fair point, Gotham had more than its fair share of bent cops. "If I had one of the items I could probably tell if it had any magical properties."

"What about the room?"

"Huh?" Zatanna stared at him. Bruce was looking at the screen, his brow furrowed in thought.

"If we went to the scene, could you tell if magic had been cast?"

"Possibly."

"Yes or no?"

Zatanna sighed. "Yeah, yeah I could do that." She didn't explain to him that it would depend on the kind of magic involved, that if it was a being more powerful than her – and there were many – than all that she would do was alert them to their presence or even that she might not able to discern what kind of magic was involved, if any. The longer she was here the less she was speaking to Bruce and the more to Batman, and Batman didn't want to hear her excuses.

"It's settled." Bruce turned from the console and stalked into the shadows of the Batcave, no doubt going to suit up.

Zatanna sighed again. To think she had been planning on spending her evening in the bath with a bottle of Merlot and a good book. "Oh well. Krow sehtolc!" Mist swirled around her and a second later she was dressed in her stage outfit, top hat in hand. She twirled it in her fingers, smiled and then donned the hat that had once been her father's. She turned around only to find Batman already suited up and waiting for her. How the hell had he got dressed so quickly?

"Let's go." He turned from her and walked towards the Batmobile, his cape billowing out dramatically behind him.

"Wait! Wouldn't it be quicker if I teleported us there?"

He stopped, turned and gave her a hard stare. At least she thought that it was a hard stare, it was difficult to tell given that half of his face was covered. But with Batman it was always safe to presume that he was giving you a hard stare and that it was probably the only kind of stare he was capable of giving.

Without saying a word Batman swept around and stalked towards the Batmobile. Sighing for the third time in less than five minutes, Zatanna followed after him, definitely not mentioning that he was a hypocrite for disallowing her using magic to transport them.

/\/\/\

The Bat mobile was a surprisingly comfortable ride. Zatanna still would have preferred teleporting to the crime scene, but she understood Batman's distrust of magic, especially her magic. Besides, this gave him time to fill her in on what he'd learned about the murder.

Abigail Williams, thirteen years old, had disappeared a week ago while walking home from school. Her best friend, Mercy Lewis, had been the last to see her. Her parents, not taking any risks since this was Gotham, reported her missing to the police when Abigail had failed to return home by early evening. The police had waited twenty-four hours before even considering confirming her as missing. There was CCTV footage of Abigail and Mercy entering a store and buying candy and soda, then they went their separate ways. The last image of Abigail alive was her turning a corner. The next CCTV camera, located down the road from said corner, hadn't picked her up. She had never made it down the street. She had disappeared from a busy place, teeming with people, in broad daylight – or as close to daylight as Gotham ever got. Her body had been discovered by a group of skater kids looking for somewhere to shoot a video of themselves.

"Why is it that bad people never seem to get murdered?" Zatanna wondered aloud. She looked down at the Wayne-tech pad in her hands and the image of Abigail; it looked to be a fairly recent school photograph. There were numerous extracts from the press and Zatanna was reading the statements from Abigail's teachers and friends. "Bubbly, friendly, popular and top of her class; no one is ever described as a loser and a waste of space, or a complete dick. Only nice people ever seem to be murdered."

"Would it make it easier for you if she had been a bad person?"

"No, probably not," Zatanna replied. "It'd just have given me a sense of balance. That bad things happen to bad people. Even then," she shrugged, "it wouldn't change the fact that a thirteen year old kid had been brutally murdered."

"We're here."

Zatanna turned the pad off as the Bat mobile slowed to a stop.

They were in one of the worse parts of Gotham, which was really saying something. Most of the buildings were abandoned and derelict, looking as though they might fall down at any second. The building they were looking at was grey, dirty and clearly deserted; the windows and doors were covered with wooden boards and police tape surrounded the area.

Batman, naturally, ignored the police tape. He pulled it aside as he made his way to the building. "This area has mostly been left alone since No Man's Land. The buildings were deemed unsafe but have yet to be demolished," he explained his breath misting in the cold air.

Zatanna nodded and followed him, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt about No Man's Land. Gotham had never really been her home, just one of those places she occasionally visited, but that didn't mean that she shouldn't have done something to help. As it was, she had placed magical wards around her house here and then left Gotham to it. The fact that so many others had done similar things (admittedly without the magic) did nothing to ease her conscience.

There was a side door to the building; the wooden boards that had covered it had been pried away and discarded, they now lay several feel away on the ground in the snow. Batman removed the police warning tape and opened the door, stepping inside and disappearing into the darkness. Zatanna followed him. She couldn't see a thing. The dim light from outside did nothing to illuminate the inside of the building.

"Erehps fo thgil," she uttered holding her hand up. She felt warmth spread up her arm and pool in the palm of her upturned hand as an orb of light grew in the air. "What?" she demanded as Batman stared at her. "You might have bat-night-vision in that cowl, but I don't."

He stalked down the long corridor that led from the door. Zatanna rolled her eyes and trailed after him. The corridor was a mess of old newspapers and cardboard boxes in various states of decay. The place smelt of damp and the cold seemed to seep into Zatanna's bones. The only sound was her footsteps falling softly against the cracked floor.

Batman led her deep into the building, and the further they went the more uneasy Zatanna felt. There was something very wrong here. She tried to tell herself that it was just her trepidation at seeing the crime scene, but she knew that it wasn't. Her growing sense of dread was more than her own fear. It permeated the air in the whole building.

"Here," Batman said softly. They had stopped by a closed door and he turned to her. "Ready?"

"Of course I am," she replied, feeling slightly annoyed by his attempted to protect and coddle her. He opened the door, revealing a narrow staircase that led down into the darkness. "Wonderful," Zatanna muttered. She sent the orb of light down so that she'd be able to see where she was going. Her heels tapped quietly against the stone steps as she descended the stairs. Batman didn't make any noise as he followed. She could barely even feel his presence behind her.

She cleared her throat, the noise sounding far too loud. "So will you be coming to my show?"

"Excuse me?" His voice was low and hard, a growl that was intended to remind her that she was with Batman and not Bruce Wayne.

"I can't decide what trick to end the show with. It's driving Mikey crazy." Batman didn't even grunt, so Zatanna continued, "I wanted to do the Doubles trick. It makes it look like there's a whole other me on the stage, and, y'know, I interact with my double. When I get to the end of the trick the double disappears, but I've switched places with the double and so it looks like the 'real' Zatanna has disappeared." She sighed theatrically. "But the stage isn't big enough for the trick and so now I need to think of something different."

He was silent and Zatanna thought that he was ignoring her, which was just so like him, and then he surprised her. "Go with something simple."

She was so astounded by his reply that she nearly tripped. He grabbed her arm and stopped her from toppling down the stone steps and making one hell of a mess of herself. She straightened up and smiled back over her shoulder at him. "Simple, huh? I can do this neat little trick with a rope." She continued on down the stairs, being a little bit more careful this time. "I cut a rope in half, and then I tie both bits together in a knot, pull on it and – abracadabra – it's whole again!"

"Just like magic."

"Exactly." She was grinning now, thoroughly pleased that he had joined in the conversation. It never hurt to occasionally remind Batman that he was human.

They finally reached the bottom of the stairs and Batman once again took the lead. Another long dark corridor and once more Zatanna was hit with the feeling of wrongness, or dread and something else she couldn't put into words. She was actually scared. Not that she was ever going to admit that to Batman, but it was certainly okay for her to acknowledge the fact for herself. She pushed those feelings aside and walked on, staying close to Batman, but giving him enough space in case he needed it. They reached the door at the end of the corridor; it was metal and heavy looking, and Batman opened it, quickly stepping through with Zatanna on his heels. She sent the orb of light to the centre of the room and made it brighter, banishing the darkness and illuminating the room.

Zatanna gagged and covered her nose and mouth with her gloved hand. The air smelt of blood, guts and shit. The taste of it coated the back of her throat and her stomach heaved. Despite the fact that the police and forensics had been through the room and stripped the scene bare, it still looked shockingly similar to the pictures Zatanna had looked at previously. The make-shift altar was still there, discoloured with Abigail's blood and other stains that Zatanna didn't at all want to think about. The floor was similarly stained; the blood must have run form the altar to pool on the ground.

"I'd have thought that they'd have cleaned the place by now," she muttered.

"Is there anything you need?" Batman asked, ignoring her complaints.

She shook her head and moved around the room. "Just time," she told him as she examined what little fixtures were in the room. Whoever had used it had cleared it of trash. There some folded chairs propped against the wall, but nothing much else apart from the altar. She moved to it and waited, listening to the room and trying to feel what was there. "There is something here. Its faint, but it's there, but then it might just be Gotham itself." She placed her hand on the altar; the dried blood flaked beneath her touch ruining her pristine white gloves. She closed her eyes. She could feel something weighing on her, the same feeling from before but stronger. But she couldn't sense any magic in the altar itself, nor could she tell if any magic had been cast recently in the room.

Sighing impatiently, she opened her eyes to find Batman looming over her. "Well?" he demanded.

"Not much. There is something, but I'm not sure what it is."

"This was a waste of time," he growled. He spun on his heel and made for the exit.

"I'm told that patience is a virtue," Zatanna said. She hopped up on to the altar.

"What are you –"

"Shush." She sat down cross-legged, straightening her back. "I need to concentrate." She placed her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. She emptied her mind of thoughts; of her own annoyance and fears, of Bruce's doubts in her abilities, her disgust at this room and she let the wrongness seep into her and the darkness swirl around her. There was something there, something so very far away and she reached for it.

"Wohs em tahw deneppah, wohs em tahw deneppah, wohs em tahw deneppah..."

She was slipping away, away from Batman, away from herself, away...

"Wohs em!"

She opened her eyes.

/\/\/\

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