There was something eerie about a cemetery at night. It was a morbid place at the best of times, so throw in the atmosphere of night and it got real spooky real quick.

The night's sky was clear, revealing a sparkling sky. The cemetary was at the outskirts of the city, which reduced the light pollution that normally blocked out the stars. Admittedly, the stars could have been brighter, but at least they could be seen here. Due to the time of year, the trees were bare of leaves, creating that haunted, naked look, the lack of light showing off their crooked silhouttes. There was a breeze that caused the branches to sway, giving them the appearance that they were reaching out for something.

Rows of tombstones dotted the area. They were all of various sizes, from the small blocks that rested on the ground, showing its face to the sky, to the large ornamental statues of angels and crosses that were determined to grab attention. The limited light sources disguised the names on each stone marker, hiding the names of the dead. Oh, there were ones with big enough lettering you couldn't help but know who was buried, but for the smaller, more humbler letters, they were harder to read.

Creeping along a gravel road were two ladies definitely not dressed for the place. Zatanna was styling because why the hell not? Designer shirt, designer pants, she was ready for a midday outing than a cemetery visit. She was not one to go around dressed as a slob, though she was rather thankful she had the foresight to be wearing tennis shoes instead. The gravel was an ankle hazard for any sort of heel.

Though she was dressed in nice clothes, Madame Xanadu had not gotten that email, probably because she still used snail mail instead of email. She was decked out in her fortune teller dress, looking none the least bit uncomfortable due to the chilly weather. The dress couldn't have thinner if she tried. She held her head high, prim and proper, as if nothing could faze her.

Her goosebumps said otherwise.

"So how much further do you think we have to go?" Zatanna asked, an attempt to strike up a conversation. The eerie silence that blanketed this place was unnerving. It made her feel like they shouldn't be here.

"It shouldn't be much further," the older woman replied, her long dark hair swishing with her every move. "Please do not ask that question again. That is the fourth time you've asked."

"It is not," she protested.

Nimue didn't bother looking at her, raising up her hand as she ticked off her fingers one by one. "Once at the car upon our arrival; once when we made that turn at the intersecting roads; once at the tree you thought looked haunted; and just now."

A sour look appeared on the younger woman's face. "I don't care what you say, that tree looked like it wanted to eat us whole."

"That was just the shadows playing with your eyes. Now quite acting like a child; we are on important business."

But how important was this? Yeah, they knew those weird robed guys had been doing something here, grave robbery if Nimue's crystal ball was any indication. That the madame left her parlor shop indicated she was taking this quite seriously. Still, this was a whole new world for Zatanna and she was not that inquisitive by nature. Only on subjects that interested her and this was definitely losing her interest with every wind-shivering breeze. What she wouldn't give to be at home with a good book and a bubble bath. There were other people that liked this detective work and she was more than willing to let them do it.

Staring down the road, Zatanna then glanced at Xanadu, back to the road, then to the fortune teller again. An imp whispered in her ear and couldn't help but give in to its mischievousness. "How much further do we have to go?" she asked again sweetly.

Yeah, it was childish, but she was feeling that way. If she annoyed her teacher, even better. They could both be irritated with the other until they found this violated grave.

However, instead of glaring at her, even though the younger woman could have sworn her elder's eye twitched, Nimue pointed directly ahead of them. "It is there."

Huh? Really? She had not been expecting that kind of answer. Jerking her head to look down the gravel road, she really couldn't see anything. Picking up her pace, she pulled ahead, trying to get an eye on their destination.

"You need to go further!" Nimue called after her.

"Yes, Teach," Zatanna rolled her eyes. Going into a jog, she picked up the pace until she spotted something out of the ordinary. In a cluster of graves, she could see one that had dirt piled along the sides of an empty one. Slowing her pace, she stared at them, wondering if this was indeed the place. For all she knew, it was a fresh grave being prepared—

"We are here," Madame Xanadu suddenly said at her side. Jumping, Zatanna whipped her head around to find the madame standing right next to her as if she had been there the entire time. Whipping her head back and forth from where she could have sworn the older woman was to where she was currently, she couldn't figure out how she had walked the entire distance without her knowing so quickly.

Unperturbed by her student's bewilderment, Xanadu strode towards the grave, stopping where the grass became dirt. "Yes, this is indeed the spot," she announced.

"You weren't sure to begin with?" Zatanna demanded as she stomped up to stand next to her mentor. "What makes you think this is the spot?"

"There are dozens of footprints in the dirt, where many men labored to uncover this grave."

"So? The undertakers could have done that."

"How many undertakers does it take to dig a grave?"

"How should I know? These footprints could be two or three guys that walked all over the place."

Nimue stared at her before nodding her agreement. "I can see your point. However, I can also sense the violation of this site, the spirits crying out in rage and pain."

"Well, you could have led with that."

"Do you ever get tired of sarcastic quips?"

A cheeky smile appeared on Zatanna's face. "Nope. It's part of my charm."

This time, Nimue did glare at her. "Will you search this place already? We do not have all night."

"And why am I the one to do the searching?" she protested. "There's two of us, so we can both do it."

"You are dressed for it while I am not. I will not dirty this gown; it is priceless."

Zatanna blinked her eyes. "Then why the hell are you wearing it in a freaking cemetery? Didn't you expect to get dirty here?"

"I did," she admitted, "but if we were going to find a violated grave, I knew the spirits would be wanting to claim revenge and they can be quite imaginative. This gown declares to all who I am and what I represent. It is currently the only thing keeping them from tearing us apart at the moment."

Well, Zatanna hadn't been expecting that. Damn it, she was going to have to do all the heavy lifting. God, this was going to suck. Where was her trope when she needed them? Grumbling, Zatanna stepped onto the soft, dug-up earth and made her way to look into the open grave.

She...really didn't see much, even after she pulled out her phone and activated the flashlight app. All she could make out was the shovel-scarred ground that made the walls of the hole. Looking to the grave marker, she saw it had been knocked over, broken into pieces. Whomever had been lying here, their name was now forgotten for all of time. That was kind of sad.

Walking around the grave, Zatanna continued her search until she reached Nimue again. "I'm not finding anything," she reported.

"Then we shall do this another way." Xanadu's eyes began to glow a brilliant white, looking at the grave through the mystical plane. Zatanna was more than comfortable allowing the older woman to do that task. It was one less thing for her to do.

Also, she wasn't really liking this place. There was something familiar about it, like she had been here before. She wasn't sure why that was. She couldn't recall actually being here, yet the thought nagged at her. Unsure if it was was true or not, this sordid business was starting to give her the heebie-jeebies. The sooner they left here, the better

Suddenly, Xanadu staggered backwards, gasping as she tried to regain her balance. Instinctively, Zatanna shot her hands up to grab a hold of the fortune teller, helping to steady her. "What is it? What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Monsters!" Nimue snarled, catching the younger woman off guard. The look on her mentor's face, it was furious, twisted like a pissed-off dog. "How could they? How dare they!"

"You gonna tell me what's going on, or do you want me to start guessing?"

Xanadu looked to her and her fury died down to be replaced with one of...sympathy? "My apologies," she spoke sincerely before spinning around and walking away.

Okay, what the hell was going on here? First the dark-haired woman was looking like she wanted to tear these grave robbers to pieces, but now she was leaving? And that sandwiched a brief moment of empathy. Zatanna immediately gave chase. "Nimue, tell me what's going on," she demanded.

Though Xanadu didn't break her stride even as she reached the road, she did respond. "I was delving into the memories of this place and found the instant of the robbery," she said, even as Zatanna caught up to her, matching her pace as they walked side by side.

"What did you find?"

Xanadu glanced at her from the side of her eye. "There are not many reasons for why a grave is violated. For normal mortals, it is to rob the dead of their earthly possessions. In this case, the robbers took the entire body. I am unaware of who would want a corpse like this in the normal realm, so I rather doubt anyone there is our culprit."

Apparently Xanadu had never heard of cadavers, but hey, at least they didn't have to look too deeply there. "So that leaves the mystical, right? We already knew these robed guys were into that."

Nimue nodded her agreement. "These are no normal mages. We are dealing with Bat Worshipers and their uses for magic are minimal."

So...did that mean she already knew what these robed guys were up to, these so-called Bat Worshipers? "So you know what they're going to do?"

"Yes. The dark god these people serve dabbles in necromancy, the rising of the dead. However, simple resurrection has never been the calling of a necromancer. They only revive the dead to serve them and that is what they intend to do with this body."

Oh, was that all? Then they just needed to stop this zombie rising party. That seemed like a simple objective. "So we just stop these guys," she replied.

"You make it sound easy."

"Well, shouldn't it be easy? I mean, we just have to stop their little spell, enchantment, ritual thing. And if that doesn't work, we undo the spell."

Xanadu looked at her. "Perhaps if it was someone we did not know, but there is something else I saw. These men, they seek to bring back someone very close to you."

That caused Zatanna to stop in her tracks. Close to her? Who? She didn't know anyone here, much less anyone that was buried here. "How is that possible? I don't know anyone that lives here that they could bring them back to life."

Nimue had stopped herself and turned to face the younger woman. "Who ever said they needed the body of someone you know?"

Zatanna frowned at that, which prompted the fortune teller to continue, "The body is only a vessel. You can reasonably resurrect anyone and place them in any body."

That was possible? She hadn't known that. All the movies and TV shows she saw had them retrieve the bodies of the people they wanted to resurrect. She had assumed this was the case. So who the hell were these guys going to bring back that she knew? She didn't know any of these guys before she came to San Francisco. She also didn't know anyone associated with them, not to mention anyone having an affinity for bats.

Something cold ran throughout Zatanna's body then, her eyes widening with realization. No, it couldn't be. There was just no way.

As if she were reading her mind, Xanadu spoke, "With magic, one does not need an exact body. One can be changed into the form desired."

Zatanna swallowed hard. Anything was possible with magic. Then...these Bat Worshipers...were they actually...actually going to…

Bruce…

Could they bring him back? There wasn't anything left of him in Gotham. Yet, if Nimue was right, they were going to bring his soul back, stick it in a body, and use him for their own devices. The dreadful feeling that had formed like a stone in her guts began to burn with anger.

Like hell they would.

No way was she going to let these—what had Nimue called them? Ah yes, monsters—these monsters do that to her loved one. He was at peace now and she would be damned if he was disturbed. No way would he want to be a slave to another person either.

"Nimue," Zatanna spoke lowly. "Tell me what I need to do."

Amadeus was good at his job.

It's what made him effective and well-utilized. He accomplished his objective without much fuss or trouble. The extent of his effectiveness was dependent on the man using him. For the right ones, he could move heaven and earth; the wrong ones, he ended up doing menial tasks.

Such as the one for tonight.

Malikyte had ambition, he knew this without question. He tried to hide it behind zeal for their shared lord, but it was an open secret among the ones that knew. The thing was, he had no foresight despite the fact he could use magic. Amadeus had seen better mages, but he had seen far worse as well, and Malikyte was at least competent. But, it wasn't his job to critique and rate mages, such as they were. Not every job required magic, however. Sometimes, all that was needed was a person to do the heavy lifting. That was where he came in. He was the broad back they needed, the arms and legs that made their little imaginations a reality.

Yeah, that's right, he had no magic powers. It wasn't something he shared with the world at large. Mages typically had egos on them and anyone that didn't do half the stuff they did, they looked down upon with derision. There weren't many that did that to him now, though that had something to do with Amadeus blatantly shoving a knife under the ribs of one such mage. That had been a necessary example to the magically-inclined that in spite of their power, they were just as vulnerable to the physical world as anyone else. They had a tendency to forget though, so a fresh reminder was needed from time to time. No matter how capable they were, they weren't faster than the speed of sound.

Bullets, on the other hand, were.

Much like everyone here, no one was using their real name. Anyone that did use their real name was a fool and didn't last very long. Obvious, or not, no one was named Malikyte by their parents, it was one that was thought up by the wearing of the name. The same could be said about Amadeus, though his name had been bestowed upon him by another. Apparently it was a well-regarded name due to some doctor out east. Amadeus had looked it up, but couldn't see the connection. It wasn't like this doctor was a magic user, or had done some incredible feat. He had just built some madhouse.

Regardless, he wore the name and was determined to make it well-regarded. Tonight was just another opportunity for that, petty as it was. The streets were empty, which made this latest task that much easier. He was in a bad part of town, but then, the place he was looking for typically was in places like this. It kept the public unaware of its existence.

Amadeus knelt in front of the door. With a lock pic, he inserted it into the lock, fiddled with it until he found the tumbler, pushed it aside, and the lock was undone. Opening the door, he slipped inside, closing it behind him.

What greeted him on the other side were oddities with even more outrageous names. What did one expect when they entered a magic shop? Some of it was the genuine article while others were there to distract the greater public. Raven eyes, newt testicles, and the like were just for show. Amadeus had been around enough of those to know the genuine articles and these were mass produced at some factory on the other side of the world.

Carefully, Amadeus moved through the store. Moving to the furthest aisle, one made by a line of shelves and a wall, he walked down it, eyeing the various goods. There was a set of candles that claimed to burn different colors. Black, blue, and purple seemed to be the popular colors. He paused at the sight of a box filled with Phoenix eggs—again, cheap replicas, but ones he might be able to use. Grabbing one, he continued on his way until he reached the back.

There was a door in the back corner, which was where he wanted to go. His lock pic made quick work of the lock and he opened the door. There was another, smaller room on the other side, but it was the place he wanted.

While the front of the store was for the public, the back was for the true customers. It was more of a large, walk-in closet of a room, so there wasn't much space to walk. Shelves were on either side of Amadeus, but he ignored those. On the back wall was a small podium with a pillow resting on top of it. An unusual egg rested on it, white at its top and charcoal at its bottom. The white and black faded into each other about a third of the way from the bottom. There were small, orange glowing lines at the base, which pulsed every few seconds.

Now this, this was a phoenix egg. Hefting up the fake egg, Amadeus replaced the real egg with the fake. He doubted this would fool the owners for long, but it would buy him some time. Eggs likes these were actively hunted and if one went missing, the owner usually tore the world apart looking for it. Time was needed until it could be used and this would get them some.

Making sure to lock the door again, Amadeus carefully placed the egg in a pocket in his robe. Reaching to the other side of his robe, he then pulled out a large bag.

Now came the second part.

Amadeus began stuffing as much stuff as he could into the bag, going for the gaudier stuff that looked like they were expensive. Engraved cups, golden chalices, and especially the jewelry, he took as much as he could hold. Amadeus then went up and down different aisles, purposefully knocking stuff off of shelves to make it look as if he were a little clumsy. His bag of goods did most of that damage, rolling along his back from side to side, hitting the baskets and boxes on the shelves and knocking them down to the floor.

Once he felt finished, Amadeus went to the front of the store. Exiting, he made sure to lock the door behind him, then set his bag on the ground. Facing the door, he stared at it for a moment before he reared back on one leg and kicked with the other.

With ease, he kicked the door open, breaking a portion of the frame and sending small pieces of wood to the floor. There, his break-in was complete.

Hefting up his bag, he walked down the street, turning a corner, and then stopped at the first car he came across. Opening the back door, he tossed his stolen goods onto the back seat and slammed the door shut. Moving around the car, he then took his place in the driver's seat, staring the car up a moment later. He would dispose of his ill-gotten gains before he got back to Malikyte's hideout. These were mere props without any other value. Some destitute could make better use of them, be it to help themselves, or more likely score some drugs.

Shifting the gear shift into drive, he pulled out of his parking spot and took off down the street. The night was still young and he had a few more places to go.

It was way too early, or late depending on your perspective. A phone call at four in the morning about some break-in in a crappy part of town did that to a guy.

Officer Dale Colton sighed in his police cruiser. The night shift was killing him. Because he was the low man on the totem pole, he got the crap shift. There were a bunch of new guys too and enough veterans to make it work, though. The vets always said that you got used to it, even preferred the shift after awhile. Colton was not one of those people. He had already put in for a day shift position even before one opened up. The higher-ups told him he got it and would make the transition in a few weeks. That was a few weeks again and he was about a week out before he made the transition.

He couldn't wait.

In the meantime, he needed to respond to the B&E. He happened to be the closest unit to the scene and so had the case gift-wrapped to him. Rubbing his eyes before taking one last sip of coffee, Officer Colton climbed out of his police cruiser and lumbered over to the store.

The first thing he saw was the busted door frame. Definitely a forced entry. The lock was still intact, which was the reason for the broken frame. Entering the store, he had to do his best to avoid grimacing at all the tacky crap here. This was apparently some store that sold "magical" stuff. Basically it was a cheap knockoff of Spencer's and that already had gaudy stuff for your antisocial teenagers. This just catered to dumb saps with more money than sense. You know, tourists.

"Hello! Officer!" Colton immediately looked to the back of the store and saw who he presumed to be the store's owner. According to dispatch, the owner had called in the robbery. He claimed he heard some noise downstairs and when he came to investigate, he found it ransacked.

The owner was a stereotypical old Asian man. He was short, balding, and his eyes seemed to be larger due to the thick glasses he wore. He was waving at him, urging him to hurry over. Resting a hand on his belt, Officer Colton walked through one of the trashed aisles, doing his best not to step on anything that looked valuable. Given what he saw, it was hardly worth the effort, but there was no need to antagonized a man that had been clearly robbed.

"Are you the store owner?" Colton asked as he reached the back. The man quickly nodded, moving a broom he had been using to one hand. "I'm Officer Dale Colton. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Yes, Officer," the man quickly said. "I live upstairs." At this he pointed up to the ceiling. That wasn't unusual. A lot of small business owners used the upper floor of their buildings as little apartments. It was cheaper than getting another place in this city. "And I woke up to loud bang. I then come down and I find store like this and door wide open."

Colton glanced at the broom. "Have you been sweeping, Sir?"

"Yes, I have."

Ugh, great. In his effort to clean up his shop, the man had contaminated the crime scene. Well, this wasn't going to be an easy one. "Have you noticed anything missing?"

"Yes! Ton of stuff!" The owner gestured to a glass case at a counter. It looked as if it held a bunch of jewelry and a bunch of it was missing. Interesting enough, the glass hadn't been broken. "I keep all sorts of rings and pendants here. A lot is gone."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you do an inventory of your store's products?" Colton asked. "It'll be easier to determine what was stolen that way."

"Yes, Sir, I do that immediately."

The officer looked around the room again. Geez, this would be a mess. He didn't need the owner scurrying around the crime scene while the precinct's investigative unit tried to canvas and collect evidence. "If you could hold off on that for a little bit, I'm going to have a couple guys from the precinct come down and take pictures of this place. That way we can save the crime scene."

"Oh! Oh! Yes, Sir, I do that."

Looking back to the owner, Colton then spied a closed door along the back wall. "Do you know if anyone went into that room?" he asked, pointing at said door.

The owner turned his head before his head perked up. "I check that room already. Door was still locked, so nobody went in."

That seemed pretty logical. Reaching to a pocket along his belt, he then pulled out a small card. "This is my card," he said, holding it out to the store owner. "You can reach me at that number if you find anything missing, or have questions about the case. I'm going to do a quick look around and then radio the precinct to send in my team. Don't do anymore cleaning for now, okay?"

"Okay, I do."

Backing away, Colton began making his way back to the front door. He had a feeling this guy was probably going to go right back to cleaning, so he would need to keep the guy from doing it. It would be best to call in his techs and hold the fort until they got here. Coming up to the door, he paused as he looked at the broken frame.

According to the owner, he had heard a loud bang and immediately came downstairs, yet he didn't see the robber. It couldn't have taken that long for the old man to get down here; yet, the entire store looked trashed.

Something about this wasn't adding up.

The store owner watched as the officer exited his store. Leaning his broom up against the wall, he then climbed the stairs up to his apartment. Old joints ached, but he was used to it by now. Age was very unforgiving. Reaching the top of the stairs, he entered his apartment. It wasn't much of a place, but it suited him and he liked it.

Finding his phone close by, he picked it up and hit a couple buttons, speed dialing a pre-programed number. He heard a few rings before a click and a woman's voice answering.

"Good morning, Madame Xanadu," he said. "I wanted to let you know I've had a break-in."

Unlike some of the characters in this story, Dale Colton is a character from the comics. It took me a lot of digging to find him in the Zatanna comics, but he definitely fits a role here.