"It's a Kind of Magic"
Zatanna leaned against the makeup table in her dressing room, eyeing the young man who'd approached her after the show. "You want me to teach you magic? Why? You're already invulnerable, you've got that telekinesis thing..."
Kon-El sighed. "I'm not invulnerable. Like Superman, I'm vulnerable to magic. So, I figure I should know something about it."
"I think you came to the wrong place." She sat down and started to remove her makeup.
The boy frowned. "I know your magic is real, even if the--"
"That's not what I meant." Sighing, she put down the cotton ball. "Look, kid, I don't do half-measures. I don't teach just a little bit about magic. When I take on an apprentice, it'll be for real, and I don't think you want to do that."
Kon-El sighed and scrubbed a hand through his buzz haircut. "You're right."
The kid was more mature than she remembered, she thought. Looked like he'd been through some serious hell, to be honest. "Look, if you're serious about this, maybe there's another way."
His eyes lit up and he almost bounced in place. Had she ever been that young?
"Really?"
"Really. I've got a...friend, I guess you can call him. He might be just the ticket. I'll send you to him."
He smiled and she resisted the urge to pat him on the head, since he was half a foot taller than her. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Dnes yobrepus ot enitnatsnoc."
John Constantine looked up from his crappy American beer and glared at the boy who'd appeared in front of him. "Oh hell, you're one of those sodding American heroes, aren't you? What do you want?"
The boy--Superboy, wasn't he?--looked startled and didn't answer for a minute.
"C'mon kid, I'm waiting. What do you want?"
"Um, Zatanna sent me. Uh, she thought you might be able to teach me a little bit about magic."
"Why would I want to do that?"
The boy's mouth opened and closed. "I don't know?"
People were starting to stare. (Even in the pubs he frequented, it wasn't every day that Superboy appeared out of nowhere in a small puff of green smoke. Damn Zatanna and her show business roots.) "C'mon, you can't possibly be old enough to drink, so let's take this outside."
He followed obediently, which was a good thing, since John didn't really feel like trying to force him. The sunlight outside made John squint and the boy relax, and they leaned against the brick exterior, John flipping out a pack of fags. "Want one?"
"No, thank you."
Hell, she'd sent him a polite one. What was the girl thinking? "So, you want to learn magic."
"I'm vulnerable to it, so I thought I should know something."
"That's smarter than most of you superhero types."
The boy blushed. "Actually, it was Robin's idea."
"Smart kid," John said with a snort. "But anybody trained by the Bat idiot would have to be to survive."
Looking a bit nervous, the boy just blinked at him.
John sighed. "Look, I'm not sure I want to take on another responsibility just now. What'll you do if I say no?"
The square jaw tightened. "I'll keep asking magic users until I find somebody who'll take me."
John eyed the corn-fed all-American incredibly handsome boy who stood in front of him, imagining the reaction of many of the magic users he knew. Bloody hell. "Zatanna's gonna owe me big-time for this."
"Does that mean you'll teach me?"
Dropping the fag on the ground and crushing it with his heel, John took a deep breath. "Yeah, kid. What's your real name, anyway? I'm not gonna call you Superboy."
"Uh, I guess it's Kon-El. That's what Superman named me."
"Right. First rule of magic. Don't give anyone your real name."
Kon-El blinked. "Oh. Should I be taking notes?"
John stared up at the sky. "Why me?"
--end--