Sorry about the delay in posting. I completely forgot yesterday and by the time I remembered, work was getting busy. As long as my faulty memory doesn't kick in again, I should be posting this Friday like usual.
In case you hadn't noticed, magic was hard.
Day in, day out, Zatanna found herself living, breathing, and performing magic and let her tell you, it was a lot harder than it looked. With a slave driver at her heels, she was forced to levitate that same damn candle every day. Multiple times a day even. And she did it with a groan.
Books were next; then came small statues. Next were multiple objects at once. She was getting the hang of it, slowly, but surely. A personal trainer might even say it was like working out a muscle, the more repetitions she did with it, the stronger she'd get. Of course, she hadn't been to a gym in a long while.
Today, she wasn't going to do any of that. She wasn't going to lift a candle, or make a book disappear, or hell, she wasn't going to listen to anything Xanadu—or Nimue as she affectionately called her now—told her to do. She needed a day off. She needed time to do something, anything else.
Unfortunately, the streets of San Francisco weren't going to let her do that.
It was almost as if she had developed another sense. After leaving Nimue's little store, the dark-haired woman had gone for a walk. Then she had ridden the tram that went up and down the famous hills of San Fran. All the while, she couldn't help but notice...peculiar things.
It wasn't like she was seeing demons, or ghosts, or the like. No, it was smaller, less obvious things. At one street corner, she felt as if some great big celebration had happened. There were people standing impatiently at a crosswalk that she physically saw; yet, she felt as if something great and important had happened here. Like it had left its mark on the area long after it had happened. Maybe it was something in the past because it sure as hell wasn't happening now.
Then there were what she best described as blips. Just momentary occurrences that popped into her mind and disappeared just as quickly. Getting annoyed with that had happened fairly quickly until she just happened to see a small child explode with exuberance. Apparently they had gotten something, chocolate maybe? Whatever it was, the child was shoving it into their mouth and it was clear they were overjoyed by it.
Yet, while watching that scene, Zatanna couldn't help but feel something...happy affect her. It was contagious. She was even starting to feel a little giddy as she watched the kid consume whatever was exciting him. That feeling went away as the child calmed down, though.
Geez, it was like she couldn't leave magic behind for even a second.
So Zatanna continued riding the tram, hyper aware of everything around her. And she saw it all. It wasn't every person she saw. It was one or two at a time. She could feel their happiness, their sadness, their anger, their anxiety. For a while Zatanna felt as if she could feel their emotions, but she felt that wasn't right. There were other people emoting as well, but she felt nothing from them.
And then she came face to face with the only conclusion that made sense. People that had a magical connection, be it known or unknown—most likely the latter—she could feel them. The magic inside of them reacted to their mood, an unconscious gesture. For awhile, she was in awe of this, but as time went by, she began to lose interest.
Which led her to her current exercise, so to speak. It wasn't just people she could feel, but places. It...It was like there were certain places within the city that had larger gatherings of these mystical energies. That likely described that first impressionable moment she had felt at that unassuming street corner.
As she rode the tram, she felt more of those places. Though there wasn't as strong of a celebratory feeling as she felt that first time, she felt the gathering of these energies coupled with emotions. Something magical had happened in these places and a part of the young woman couldn't help but be enthralled with it.
However, these were the touristy places, you know, the places the city wanted tourists to go. No city in their right mind wanted people to go to the rundown, poor places where crime was firmly entrenched. Zatanna could only assume what those places felt like and she had a feeling she wouldn't like feeling them.
Yet, there was one sight she had to absolutely visit. Thankfully it was on the travel brochure she picked up at one tram's stops. She probably could've looked it up on her phone too, but hey, she was technically a tourist, what with having no prior residence here. She could get away with acting like one.
Thus she found herself in the older part of San Francisco. The buildings had an older, statelier look to them, nothing like the modern skyscrapers in the downtown area. She had even found an area comprised of cobblestone, a traditional European street design.
At the center of this area was a fountain, surrounded by small, cylinder stones, which allowed a squared ring of metal to connect each stone. There was the expected water reservoir with a center column extended upward until a basin formed. Along the edge of the basin were turtles that appeared to be attempting to crawl up the basin's lip and into it, frozen there forever. Beneath the turtles were statues of four men, each holding a hand up as if they had placed the turtles where they lay. They were seated against the center column thanks to a bulge growing out of it, allowing them to lean against it while propping a foot on top of rather large fish. The fish were spitting out a stream of water, which fell into the reservoir below.
This was the Fountain of the Tortoises, the very attraction she wanted to find.
As people milled around the cobblestone courtyard, some taking pictures of the fountain and others heading off to other sights, Zatanna took up a position looking directly at the fountain. She had a reason for coming here, partly for her training. The other was to confirm one of Madame Xanadu's actions.
Taking in a deep breath, the dark-haired woman closed her eyes for a moment. If she were a superhero, she would have said her magic senses were tingling. Seeing as she wasn't, she had a more mature outlook on what to call this new...magic...sense...she had. Yeah, she needed to come up with a better name. It was a work in progress.
Immediately, she was assaulted with the pressures of powerful magic. Her blue eyes snapped opened and she was in a world of color. It was as if the view of the fountain and courtyard had been washed with primary and secondary colors. There was a big splash of yellow on the ground, and purple flowed over the water reservoir and onto the street. The sky was torn between a dark blue and red. Green mingled with a brighter yellow and blue along the buildings.
Okay, she hadn't expected to find so much magic in one place. Doing her best to ignore the colors, she got a sense that a lot of the present magic was old, left over by their creators and forgotten by time. It was something she found herself discovering more and more in this city.
Alright, time to ignore that as well. She needed to find a feeling that was relatively new in comparison to the old magics present. It was a good thing she knew where to look because she could only imagine what it would be like to search this entire place. Ugh, she didn't even want to think of that.
Staring intently at the fountain, Zatanna could only see purple, some blue, and yellow. They felt old too, so she knew that wasn't what she was looking for. She fought the urge to grit her teeth. Such a look would draw attention here and she didn't want that.
Annoyed, Zatanna closed her eyes. The sooner she got rid of the magic sight, or whatever it was she was looking into, the—
There was a sound. It was muffled, as if someone were gagged. Unable to help herself, the magician opened her eyes again, still surrounded by a painter's wet dream, and found no person that would be making such a sound. There were people talking, laughing, or ignoring everyone around them—albeit muffled to her ears—but no visible gags anywhere. Against the splashes of intense color, the people around her appeared like black silhouettes, devoid of features. It was like they were blocking her view of the various magics imbued in this place.
Yet, the sound wouldn't go away. It was almost desperate sounding too. Eyes flickering from side to side, Zatanna tried to find where it was coming from, only to find herself looking right at the fountain.
Yes, the sound was coming from there. Staring intently at it again, it seemed the splotches of color began to...to move, parting for a brilliant light blue. This blue though, filled the inside of one of the man statues on the fountain. There was no aura, or anything outside of the statue, only inside of it. Slowly, the light blue took a shape, that of a person.
Well, well, looks like she found Brother Joseph.
Shuddering, Zatanna quickly shut down any and every magical sense she had, the real world returning to her eyes and ears. The black silhouettes became people, animated in their discussions. Buildings dulled into their brick and mortar, the ground into its old cobblestone. Slowly, she began to circle the fountain until she was looking right at the very male statue she had seen Joseph in. Part of her wondered if he could see her through the statue's eyes and then promptly pushed the thought away. She really didn't want to know.
Xanadu hadn't been kidding about imprisoning the guy and chances were, he'd be there forever. Turning away, Zatanna made to leave this place. What had seemed like a good idea in exercising her powers had become morbid really quickly and she found she didn't like it at all. Perhaps when this was all over, maybe she would get around to freeing that Joseph guy. No one deserved to be trapped in such a confining place, frozen while the rest of the world moved on without you.
Even though the spell had been made to protect her, even now Zatanna could see just how terrible the results using magic could be.
Perhaps it had more to do with everything that had happened lately. The police trying to raid his last hideout, the subsequent search for a new one, it was making Malikyte a little short tempered. He had been distracted by these incidents, but now that he had time to settle, he realized he had been forgetting a few things.
Namely, Brother Joseph had yet to come back. Hell, he hadn't answered his damn phone after he called over and over. He knew his minion had higher aspiration for himself. He would not allow himself to fail, not before dying. Then again, the guy was a little squeamish when it was his ass on the line. Like a sniveling dog, he would do whatever it took to deflect the blame.
Where was that man? Where were his men? It should not have taken so long to find their next sacrifice, especially with the medallion he had given them. It would practically show them the way, so they couldn't mess up.
And if they had messed up, they better have died trying. That medallion was priceless, entrusted to him from their master. It was his prized possession.
If they weren't dead, they would soon wish they were. Malikyte had a number of interesting hells he could leave them, forever tormented by demons. Or he could introduce him to his more sadistic side. He hadn't tortured another person in quite some time, devoting his energies to serving their dark master. He had quite an imagination for such amusements.
Actually, he rather liked that option.
"Joseph, Joseph, you disappoint me," Malikyte muttered to himself. Perhaps it was time to assume the worse until proven otherwise. Brother Joseph had failed and was on the run, or more likely searching for another master to protect him. For now, he would let the weasel hide; he could find him once he succeeded in pleasing the dark master.
That left just one other matter: Brother Amadeus' retrieval mission. It would be early, but he should be completing his own task shortly.
There was a beating on the door. It was not knocking, a rap of the knuckles, but the pounding of a fist. Without waiting for permission, the door swung open and Brother Amadeus strode into the room. Malikyte immediately sat up in his chair.
"The job is done," Amadeus grunted. "We have the coffin."
"Where is it?" Malikyte was quick to ask.
"We put it in a side room. Was there somewhere else you wanted it?"
Malikyte ignored the man, instead flying out of his chair and rushing out of the room. He went down the hallway until he found a small gathering of robed men—his men and the ones assigned to Amadeus. They immediately parted upon his arrival, allowing him into the small room.
Sitting on an unused desk was the coffin, dirt smudged all over it, some clumps crumbling and falling off. With reverence, Malikyte took small steps towards the box, a trembling hand reaching out to run along the lid. Whatever polish that had been on it was gone thanks to the years it had been buried. And yet, it didn't seem to take away from its mystic.
Moving around it, he searched for the latches that kept the coffin closed, finding them and unlatching them. He then lifted up the lid, half of it rising as the other half stayed in place. A putrid smell flooded out of the coffin, causing him to cringe. His men gagged behind him from the stench. Yet, he would not let such a thing stop him from looking at his prize. There was the form of a decaying man inside the coffin, though in spite of the deterioration, he could still recognize the face.
It was a little sad, he had to admit. He remembered seeing this face once and it was quite impressive. Now it was a shade of its former self. Death did that, he supposed, shriveling and withering all it touched. It would not stay that way, of course.
Closing the lid, he sighed. Finally something that was going his way. "Brother Amadeus," he called out, not bothering to look over his shoulder.
Amadeus didn't respond so much as he entered the room and stopped a few feet away. "If it isn't too much trouble, I have another task for you."
"What is it?" came the man's answer.
"I just need a few things...people...to make this offering glorious. You wouldn't mind retrieving them for me, would you?"
"Tell me who and what they are."
Though his lips stayed shut, a grin stretched them out. It was not a pretty grin. "I will have then written out for you. These will not be easy to find, though I have great faith in your abilities. You have never failed me before."
"And see that I continue not to?" There was a snort, one that caused Malikyte to frown before he turned to look at the robed man. "I'll do your little job," Amadeus said, "but not because you want me to. All we do is for our Master—remember that."
"Yes, of course," Malikyte amended. There was no sense in irritating the man. He got things done and this was of the utmost importance. "I will see to the list immediately. You may rest yourselves in the meantime."
Amadeus stared at him before turning away and leaving the room. At the very least, he didn't tell him to piss off. Returning to the coffin, he lovingly ran his fingers on it again.
Soon, he thought. Soon.
The trip back to the fortune teller parlor was long. To remain in an okay mood—cause let's face it, after what she discovered, who could be in a happy mood?—it proved to be far too long. Every minute just plunged Zatanna further and further into anger.
The longer her mind lingered on it, the more livid she had become. That guy, even if he wanted to kidnap her and do unspeakable things to her, was now trapped in a statue and most likely would be forever. That was cruel, too cruel to imagine. Yet, she had witnessed it with her very own eyes. She had seen him swallowed up into the floor and then found his trapped formed inside of that statue, unable to communicate with the world. It didn't help that she was dwelling on it either. That just firmly lodged it into her head and put it on an endless loop.
So once she was back, the dark-haired woman was not in the mood for riddles or half-truths. She marched herself into the parlor, finding it to be empty.
No sweat, that just meant Xanadu was in the back, or her living quarters. Knowing her luck, it was the bathroom again. It didn't matter where she was though, there was a confrontation brewing and they were going to have it out. Storming to the back of the parlor, Zatanna threw open the back door and entered the rather humble room beyond.
And came to an immediate stop. Zatanna's blue eyes widened as she stared at Madame Xanadu sitting on a bench, a wash tub damn near bubbling over with soap bubbles. Gone was the elegant dress she wore and in their place was a pale pink robe, one that had once been fluffy, but now had lost such fluffiness and the color was dimming. Both of her hands were just above the tub, holding what appeared to be underwear dripping with bubbles.
Zatanna had never wondered what other women wore beneath their clothes. Oh, when she was younger and rapidly approaching womanhood, she may have peaked around at the other girls to see what was fashionable, but that was it. That had been purely a reconnaissance mission and nothing else. But now that she was a woman and fully confident in herself, she knew what she liked to wear and wore it proudly.
Yet, she couldn't help but notice that the underwear Xanadu was washing was quite skimpy.
Not bad for a five hundred year old geezer.
"What are you doing?" the fortune teller asked with mild annoyance in her voice.
"Reconnaissance mission," the younger woman blurted out. Damn it, why the hell did she say that? "I mean, I am in no way trying to figure out what you keep in your underwear drawer, especially by...hand? Why not use a washing machine? Scratch that, never mind. That is your business and none of mine, though I do have to give you props for wearing that particular brand and please say something to make me stop, this is mortifying."
Xanadu tilted her head back so that she could haughtily hold her nose up. "There is nothing wrong with one cleaning one's clothes. It is a lost art in this era of mechanical reliance."
"Yeah, but the convenience is incredible."
"Do you mind?"
Zatanna had to shake her head. Alright, enough with the undies talk; she had something far more important to talk about, even though she was wondering just what size those undies were. Never mind, something for a later date and another reconnaissance mission.
"I do mind," she replied. The incredulous look Xanadu shot her way made her realize that perhaps that wasn't the right phrase to use there. "But not about your underwear. You and I need to talk."
"Do we need to while I wash my laundry? I'm certain that whatever you have to say can certainly wait."
"The Fountain of the Tortoises."
The fortune teller stared at her and then sighed. She then wrung the soapy water out of her delicates before tossing it onto a pile of clothing. "The Statue of Hare," she responded.
Zatanna blinked her eyes in confusion. "Huh?"
"You said a random statement. I figured I would join you in whatever amusement you wished to indulge in," Xanadu said.
The dark-haired woman shook her head. "No, the Fountain of the Tortoises is a tourist attraction in San Francisco. You live here; how do you not know this?"
"Do I look like I'm interested in the attractions this city holds?"
That...was a fair point. She had forgotten who she was talking to in spite of them spending an abnormal amount of time together as of late. "Well, I went there today. I was exercising that brand new magical muscle of mine."
When Xanadu didn't respond or further prompt her, she continued, "You remember that hooded guy that broke in here with his cronies? Brother Joseph, I think his name was."
"Vividly," Xanadu said drily.
"Well, I discovered that he's trapped in one of those damned statues." Zatanna hardened the expression on her face. "How could you do something so monstrous?"
The older woman stood up from her chair, coolly gazing at her. "Is that all? If you are just discovering this, then I fear we have further to go than I thought."
Zatanna's mouth dropped open. Was this for real? Did she hear that right? "You trapped...a man...inside...a goddamn statue," she repeated slowly, emphasizing every last word. "Is that just a regular Monday for you? Are you so desensitized that it doesn't even faze you?"
A stern look appeared on Xanadu's face. "Child, I have done far worse than that in my lifetime. I will most likely do something equally or even more severe at some point. I will not sugar coat this: magic is wondrous and terrible. You can accomplish incredible feats with the snap of your fingers, or you can damn a soul to eternal torment. The only difference is in the user."
Zatanna did not like that answer. The older woman took notice of this immediately. "You are young and idealistic. There is nothing wrong with that. However, the reality is that magic has been used for cruel purposes and will continue to be used as such. It is no different than those super humans that are appearing. Some will use their powers for the betterment of humanity and others will use it to enrich only themselves. The choice is ultimately yours as to how you will use your own gifts. This Brother Joseph, he is not an innocent and do not think otherwise. If our positions were reversed, he would have done the same if not do more heinous things than I."
"That is still not an excuse for doing...that."
"Then create a world where such actions are not necessary." Xanadu closed her eyes and took a breath as if to push her way through this conversation. "It will not be an easy endeavor, I must warn you."
"You can literally turn the room inside out if you wanted. All you have to do is say the words," she shot back.
Xanadu stared at her before shaking her head. "Perhaps you need perspective. Follow me." The older woman moved around her and stepped to the open doorway, passing through it. Begrudgingly, the dark-haired woman followed her. Her opinion on this...this...well, witch was fitting. She could use magic and it rhymed with a more appropriate name concerning a female dog. Anyways, her regard was diminishing quickly with every passing second. Oh, sure, her respect waxed and waned since she started this magic training with her, but she had always thought there was some benevolence at the heart of this woman.
Never had she been so far off in her estimations of another person.
Xanadu made a beeline right for her table, taking a seat at it. Almost as if on command, the crystal ball sitting at the center of the table began to shine with rainbow light. Zatanna merely stood next to the table, arms crossed over her chest as she looked on stoically.
The fortune teller stared into the ball, holding her hands on either side of it. "Perspective is needed, I believe," she spoke aloud, though it was clearly meant for the younger woman's ears. "O', Crystal Ball, show us the life of the imprisoned soul, the wretched existence of Brother Joseph."
Immediately, the light of rainbows went blood red, the occasional beam of blackness. It bathed the room in those colors, primarily the red. Again, Zatanna was not amused.
Though, as she stared at the crystal ball, she could have sworn she saw something at its center. The longer she looked, the bigger it seemed to get. Her vision closed in on the ball until it seemed as if she were diving right into.
An image filled her eyes. There were men dressed in robes, the same ones that Brother Joseph and his underlings wore. They were standing around an alter, one of whom held up a wicked looking knife. There was a person, a woman, tied down to the altar, screaming, crying, and begging right before the knife was plunged into her chest.
The woman screamed, but it seemed as if she weren't the only one crying out. Hundreds, no, thousands of screams rang out, deafening her. There were men's voices, women's, even the high-pitched shrill of children. She wasn't sure how she could make them all out, but she did and somehow didn't at the same time. She just knew.
Various torments and tortures then appeared before her eyes, blood seeming to pour out with more and more regularity. Tombstones rushed by, caked with dried and fresh blood. A group of robed men marched by, a casket being carried by them as dirt sprinkled off of it in its wake.
Then Zatanna was thrown backwards until she was standing back in the parlor. For a moment, she felt dazed, unsure of where she was. Her orientation came back though, even if it took several moments.
She first became aware of Xanadu staring intently into her crystal ball. Zatanna had half-expected her to be ready to gloat, so this was different. She was so focused that she seemed to be ignoring anything and everything around her. A heavy silence filled the room, seeming to weigh on the two.
"That's strange," Xanadu ended up breaking the silence. "That last part," she murmured, "that was not the past…"
"Last part?" Zatanna questioned. A moment later and the image of those robed men carrying the coffin flashed before her eyes. Now why couldn't that have happened before she asked such a dumb question? "What about it?' she asked if only to mask her slow processing skills.
"That is recent, only just done," the older woman replied. "On top of sadists, they are grave robbers."
"And we don't like grave robbers, right?"
"I believe you and I will be taking a trip," Xanadu said as she finally tore her eyes away from the crystal ball. "I had figured the pain and torment, but that is...different. Too different."
"Okay, so how do we figure out where these guys did the digging and the robbing?"
"I suppose I could seek the answer through the magical plane," the older woman mused. "Or we can do something far easier."
"And that would be?"
"Watching the news."
Zatanna stared. This was the woman literally washing her own clothes five minutes ago, riding on a high horse about lost arts and stuff, and now she wanted to be lazy?
Goddamn hypocrite.