"So, what, now Lana's a goddess?" Bart asked, confused. He set down his slice of pizza and peered over the pitcher of cola, staring intently into Zatanna's eyes.

"Either that or she's some sort of freaky hybrid," Zatanna replied. "I'm not too sure. Xanadu's being her usual cryptic self. We'll need to find our answers somewhere else."

"The question is where," Clark asked in a concerned voice.

Zatanna looked silently from one friend to the other, perplexed and confused. She'd been pondering over that very thing the whole night after she and Lana had returned from Xanadu's home, with no idea of what to do next. That was the only reason she'd called Bart and Clark the next morning and asked them to meet her in Metropolis for lunch. They had, of course, agreed to meet her there as soon as she'd suggested it. "I honestly don't know, Clark. There is a magic underground, and there are some names that I know of, but there's no one I can really say will help us for sure."

"Maybe we shouldn't look for someone to help us first? I mean, have you guys tried doing research online? Have you guys tried locating libraries around the world that specialize in books on occult and mystic knowledge?"

"If you can believe it, there was nothing. I asked Jeeves, I jigged with Google, and I found nothing. I even tried using magic to surf the web which, by the way, no one should ever do unless they want to look like an electrocuted cheesy puff in the morning," Zatanna said, indicating her somewhat frizzy hair that morning. "Beauty spells I have yet to perfect," she said glumly.

"How does Lana feel about all of this?" Bart asked.

"She's confused. Worried. Perplexed. She wants answers. Answers that I don't have and Xanadu won't give. I mean, her biggest clue was some weird prophecy thing."

"What was it?"

"I dunno. Something about poetry turning to blood and something about the surge of a white wave? It made no sense. Not that I'm surprised. I mean, Xanadu is our little Rafiki and all."

"I'm sure she'll love being referred to that way."

The group stayed quiet after Bart's last statement, each lost in his or her own thoughts. While Clark tried to figure out what connection there could possibly be between the goddess and the prophecy, Zatanna mulled over the meaning of the prophecy itself, and Bart was, well, Bart was being Bart and was trying to figure out what kind of topping combination he wanted on his next pizza.

"I've got nothing," Clark said after a minute. "No clue as to what it was that Xanadu was talking about, and no idea on what to do or how to act around Lana now."

"We can't act all weird around her, that's for sure," Zatanna replied. "The last thing she needs is feeling more out of touch with the world than she already is. I mean, first the girl gets a freaky tattoo, then she dies, then she comes back to life and potentially discovers that she may be a goddess, or at least have god-like abilities. She doesn't need weirdness from us."

"No," Clark agreed. "No, she really doesn't. So, what do we do?"

Zatanna was silent for a moment, as she thought about it, and then said, "Here's what. I need you to stay with Lana. Hang out with her, or at least keep an eye on her from a distance. Whatever. Bart and I…we'll have to go to the mystic underground, see if we can find any leads there on this prophecy and see if anyone may have any information on this goddess whose essence we used to resurrect Lana."

"Sounds like a plan," Bart agreed, eager to be spending more time with Zatanna.

"Great," Zatanna said, as she took another slice of pizza off the pie in front of them. "Oh, and Clark? One more thing. You might want to come clean to Lana. About everything."

"What? No! Why?"

"Because, there can't be secrets between us right now," Zatanna replied. "We need to work as a team, and a time may come when you need to use your powers in front of Lana. If there's some evil rising, like the prophecy seems to suggest, then we can't have you and Lana getting all angsty in the middle of a crisis."

"Oh, come on Clark," Zatanna replied to her friend's mild outburst. "Lana's told me all about you two. It's very Dawson's Creek, except, you know, without the superpower-y goodness. In any case, Lana's got superpowers now too. I'm sure she understands the need for secrecy."

"Z'anna's got a point, Clark," Bart added. Clark shot Bart a withering glare, and Bart sunk down in his seat a bit.

"Clark, look, I don't want to cast a spell on you and force you to do my bidding. But the fact is, if you don't tell Lana, I'm going to have to force you to tell her the truth," Zatanna said sternly, leaving out the part about her already technically having enchanted him with her attracting people of power spell. A spell, she realized, she still hadn't lifted.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk to her tonight." Clark said, admitting defeat.

"Good. Now that that's decided, I say we get crackin'."

Genevieve Teague stretched on the couch of her hotel room, yawning just a little bit. It'd been a long couple of weeks for her, and though she knew it seemed unlikely, she wished that things would speed up instead of going at the sluggish pace that they were going at right now. Granted, being who she was, she had all the time in the world, but still. She felt that she'd waited long enough.

The elegant woman rose from her couch and walked over to the full-length mirror in her room. She stood in front of it, and smiled. All these years later, and she still looked stunning. Her hair was as lustrous as ever, and her skin looked flawless.

Yes, she'd had her beauty for years, but soon…soon she'd have so much more.

Things were coming together better than she thought they would have, even if they were happening at a slower pace than she wished. Granted, there had been a surprise or two along the way, but nothing that would have affected her plans for the worse. Instead, they made her plans all the more delicious to savor once they came into fruition.

And Jason…Jason had finally contacted her. He'd contacted her on his own free will. He was slowly coming back to her. Oh, but this was too beautiful, too sweet for words.

Only one word went through Genevieve's mind, slowly rising to a beckoning, almost haunting chant.

"Soon."