Welcome, everyone! ShadowMajin here, back with another story in Anonymous Void and my's Batman series, or rather DC Universe at this point. As AV furthers our current storyline, I have gone back in time with another Zatanna story. This one takes places after Thirteen Nightmares Ascend in the timeline, so there will be references to that story, at least in this chapter. It's definitely a sequel to Realm of Magic though.

Hope you enjoy!


The sound of rapid footsteps echoed in the eerily empty streets. Every window was dark, absent of light; every door closed tightly. A fog was settling in, making it difficult to see much further than a couple of blocks in any direction. Eric Gordon panted heavily as he ran, his heart pounding in terror. His eyes darted from side to side as he fled, trying to find the…the…the thing chasing him.

He shot right by the mouth of an alleyway, his head instinctively turning to look into it for the brief second it was visible. Was it there? No, it wasn't—something moved! Oh god, it was in there! Or was it? Was it even there? Who cares?! He needed to run! Run! Faster! Run faster!

Eric stumbled, which only freaked him out more. He couldn't fall down, not now! It would catch up with him if it did! Somehow he kept his balance and recovered, still running and picking up his pace again. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder though.

And there it was. It was at the corner of a block, a street lamp pouring light down on it. Somehow, despite being lit up by the light, it appeared as nothing more than a blob of black darkness. He didn't need to see any features to know just how hideous it was. He didn't need to know what it was after either.

He knew it wanted him.

Eric screamed as he kept running, reaching the end of the block he was on. Instead of racing out across the street, he made a turn around the corner. He lost some speed, but he was sure as hell going to make up for it.

Charging forward, he ran as fast as he could, even if he was starting to feel tired. His panting was getting louder, his heartbeat being heard deafeningly in his ears. No, he couldn't fall down, not now. He couldn't stop. If he did, it would, it would…

Eric's eyes darted across the street to the one running parallel to the one he was on. There, sitting between two parked cars…it was there! How?! How did it get there when it was right behind him?! Screaming again, he tried to go faster, even though he was already tapped out.

"Somebody! Help me!" he cried out. Why wasn't anyone around? Why was he all by himself? Where were the freaking police when you freaking needed them?!

Passing by another alley, he shrieked in terror. Standing there—right there!—was the dark blob. Eric instinctively jumped to one side to get as far from it as he could, which caused him to stumble. He ended up crashing into the side of a nearby car, his head jerking to one side to look to where he had previously seen the creature. It was no longer there, prompting him to look back—

And there it was. It had somehow closed the distance between him and it. It was wearing some kind of black cloak, a hood covering its head and face. It raised an arm up, the sleeve of its cloak pulling back to reveal a gnarled hand. The skin was wrinkled and aged, the fingers misshapen, curled like a claw.

And it was reaching for him.

Sputtering in fear, Eric shoved himself off of the car and kept running. He limped at first, he didn't really know why, but eventually he recovered his stride. He needed to get out here. He needed to hide, find help, anything!

There! Up ahead! He saw light coming out of a window! And what luck, there was a door next to the window! Someone had to be inside! Eric raced for the light, one that promised him safety and sanctuary. Skidding to a stop, he grabbed onto the doorknob of the door and tried to twist it, discovering it was locked.

No! He rattled the doorknob as he refused to believe that he was trapped outside. He banged on the door with the underside of his fist. "Please! Open up! You gotta help me!" he pleaded. His banging got more frantic with every passing second. "There's a monster out here!"

And then the light in the window turned off. "No! No, wait!" he cried out. "Don't leave me out here!" Frantically, he jerked his head to one side to see where the creature was, no longer seeing it down the street.

Oh God, where was it?

Spinning around, he faced the other side of the street, seeing it nowhere. He kept looking, jerking his head back and forth and still not finding it. It had to be here, somewhere. It couldn't have just disappeared! It couldn't! Yet, he couldn't see it anywhere.

Where…where had it gone?

Slowly, shakily, he stepped away from the door. He continued to turn around in a circle, trying to find it. It had to be here, it just had to be. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up, his skin forming goosebumps. His body trembled—

And there it was, right in front of him as he stopped his turning. Screaming, Eric jumped back, only for his legs to suddenly jerk out from beneath him. He fell backwards, landing hard on his back as the back of his head struck the concrete of the sidewalk. Pain exploded in the back of his head. Eric cried out as he instinctively reached both of his hands up to grip at his skull.

Only for his arms to shoot out to either side of him and slap down onto the ground. He laid there, spread eagle, feeling as if all of the weight of the world was sitting on him. He…he couldn't move his arms! His legs! He couldn't move anything!

Anything except for his head. He jerked it back and forth before he froze in terror. Standing by his feet was the creature, which looked down at him. "No! Please! Leave me alone!" he begged. "I don't want to die!"

"What you want isn't important," a dry voice replied with amusement in its tone. "You've given me quite the chase, but now I grow tired of it. It's time you gave me what I want."

"But I don't have anything you want! I just work at the museum! That's it!"

"Oh, but you do. You just squandered it this entire time is all."

That's when it raised both of his arms up, the sleeves of its cloak falling back to reveal both withered hands. Its hands reached up to its hood and pulled it back.

Eric couldn't help but scream at the long, grotesque face he saw. Green, glowing eyes chilled him to the bone as they stared down at him. A thick, wet tongue slid out between dry, cracked lips, licking them and incidentally revealing jagged teeth.

And all he could do was scream and scream, even as it began to reach out to him.


Okay, this was getting a little absurd.

Zatanna Zatara was not one for picking up patterns, not in the way a close friend of hers was in Gotham. She liked to think she was a free spirit, living life by the seat of her pants, or rather the fishnet stockings she usually wore.

But c'mon, this was hardly inconspicuous.

She had to look that word up too and she found it fit rather well. See, she had seen their type before. They were these middle-aged guys, and they carried themselves as if they were on a mission. Dress them in robes, or T-shirts and blue jeans, whatever you want, and they still moved this way. At least the normal clothes let them blend in somewhat.

Yeah, some did go out in public in robes best suited for a Catholic Church. She never said these guys were all that smart.

Zatanna had been minding her own business, ya know? She had traded the gloomy sights of Gotham for the brighter, cheerier streets of San Francisco—for the second time, but at least this time it wasn't nearly as depressing. She had been in talks with her old manager, trying to get the Zatara Magic Troupe back up and running. Jeff Sloane was currently rounding up the old crew and establishing dates, so that left her with some free time, thus the trip to San Fran. She had intended on dropping in on her teacher's fortune teller parlor to say hi too, but then decided it was best to avoid a potential lecture as Madame Xanadu would no doubt accuse her of being rusty with her studies.

And what were those studies, you ask? Why magic, of course! And no, not the stuff she did with her magic show.

Yeah, magic was very real. It could be this wonderful, glorious thing, but it could also be completely and utterly horrific. It really depended on the user.

Which brought her to these guys.

So there she was, minding her own business, checking out the sights, when she spotted these two dorks. They were walking down the street, men on a mission, shoving their way through the crowd. You know, not exactly keeping a low profile. That was when Zatanna's magic sense tingled. Hmm, maybe she shouldn't call it that. She could feel a copyright issue there.

But yeah, these guys were touched by magic and she simply couldn't help but follow them to where they were going. As it turned out, it was this rundown building in a not very nice neighborhood. It was the sort of place that made people want to keep away from it.

And if there had been any thought that maybe she was mistaken, those doubts were cast aside as Zatanna spotted graffiti. Now, graffiti on a dilapidated building wasn't all that unusual, but when that graffiti made arcane symbols, well, now that was just being obvious. The one she was currently studying was comprised of a large circle, three smaller circles placed at specific points that created a triangle within the larger circle. There were crude letters too, but nothing too complex because the artist had used a spray can and those weren't exactly known for being able to create very intricate letters. Big, stylized ones, yes; small, curvy ones, no.

Now, the magic she was sensing, it was some sort of protective spell. She could sense some sort of trap just waiting to be triggered.

Well, this wasn't her first rodeo.

"Lleps emoceb treni," she chanted, the protective spell dimming and ultimately fading away. You would think it would take a more intricate spell than that, but again, not her first rodeo, especially with these guys. They had the tendency to use the same spells, so once you knew what you were working with, it was child's play undoing them.

Zatanna then moved to the door she saw her quarry retreat through. It was normal enough, she supposed, except for the crudely drawn bat of course.

This was the sign of a group known as Bat Worshipers. She had faced them before, and they all prayed to the same bat god. Of course, they had been the first evil magic users she had faced, so she hadn't really done much research into them.

Now though, she knew just what kind of bat god they were worshiping and this guy was bad news. Naturally, the Bat Worshipers wanted to please this guy, usually with blood sacrifices. That was just a fancy way of saying they killed people to bring evil creatures into this plane of existence.

It went without saying that anything that desired blood and death wasn't a nice creature.

Focusing on the door, she detected a scrying spell this time. Now this was a little different. Normally scrying spells were meant to locate people or things. Enchanting a door with one wasn't all that common. However, Zatanna got the feeling it was like giving the door a magical peephole so that the Bat Worshipers on the inside could see who was knocking on their door.

Zatanna reached out for the spell—not physically, but through her magical senses. She could feel the spell reaching into the building, coming to an end with a person. She didn't detect any alarm, so the spellcaster was either focused on something else, or they weren't all that concerned with her.

Let's change that, shall we?

Zatanna gathered her magical energies before she sent a rather large surge of it through the scrying spell. She felt it travel all the way to the caster and then….down he went! That was one guy down!

Now for the others.

Holding firm to the scrying spell, Zatanna decided to get some mileage out of it and put it to use. Why use her own scrying spell when she had one already prepared for her? Through it, she detected four…five…six people there, not including the spellcaster she had knocked out. Two of them were her leads here, but they seemed to be focused on their fallen friend.

"Nepo emases," she commanded and the door was flung open. Zatanna reached down and grabbed onto the empty belt loops of her blue jeans and pulled her waistband up. That's right, she was in civilian clothes and her pants had done a good job shimming down her hips for the last twenty minutes. She didn't always walk around in her magician suit after all. That would be too ostentatious, even for San Fran.

Striding into the building, she eyed the grimy, wooden walls, not detecting any spells here. It was rather dark in here too, the only light she was getting was the afternoon sun that poured in through the open doorway behind her. Her tennis shoes slapped down on the stripped floor, no telling what had been there before. It could have been wood; it could have been linoleum for all she knew; but someone had gone to the effort of removing it.

There weren't any twists or turns either, which was nice for a change. Eventually, she found another light source coming from the crack between a door and the floor. It wasn't all that bright, so either the lighting was dim or it was candlelight. She was betting on candles.

"Nepo," she said and the door did as it was told. It didn't slam open or anything, it just gently swung out of her way.

And someone better pick up that phone because she called it! There were candles all over the room she found herself in. Some were on a mantle on the wall, others on small tables and stacks of boxes. In the middle of the room was a crudely-made altar, a dirty-looking man tied down on it. His eyes were wide, a gag shoved into his mouth to keep his panicked cries muffled. He definitely needed a shave and a haircut because all of the hair on his head was long and scraggly.

He wasn't the only one lying down though. At what was the supposed head of the altar was a robed man lying in a heap. That must have been the spellcaster she had knocked out. Around her were a few other men, also in robes. One was one of the guys she had followed here, obviously just tossing his robe over his street clothes.

There were five of them and they were all looking at her. "Hey, everyone!" she greeted them with a cheery smile. "Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I heard there was some kind of underground party here and I just couldn't resist crashing it."

The man strapped to the altar immediately made sounds, no doubt pleas for help. He looked a little on the thin side if the sight of his ribs through his skin were any indication. "What are you doing here?!" one of the robed men bellowed as he began to storm towards her. "You desecrate this holy—"

"Etativel," Zatanna intoned, raising her hand up for flair. The robed man's feet swung out from beneath him as he was launched up into the air until his back slammed against the ceiling.

"Dna llaf," she finished as she dropped her hand, the man falling to the floor. He screamed as he fell before he crashed onto the ground, suddenly going silent. "Alright, does that answer any questions as to who I am and what I'm doing here?" she asked pleasantly.

"A witch!" another robed man shouted, standing up from his unconscious leader, pointing a finger right at her.

The humor disappeared from Zatanna's face. While that wasn't inaccurate, she wasn't fond of that description, thank you very much. "Ylf yawa," she commanded. In response, witch guy was sent flying backwards, crashing into the wall. The wall actually caved in and the man disappeared from sight. That left a rather large hole in the wall. Either she had used a tad too much power, or the walls were made poorly.

Let's just say they were of poor construction and leave it at that.

"Alright, that was your last warning," she warned the remaining three men. "We can either do this—"

"Kill the witch!" someone yelled and the rest of the robed men began running at her.

"The hard way it is, then."

Pointing a hand to the floor at a spot between her and her charging attackers, she called upon her magical energies and released them. "Knis otni eht roolf."

The moment the men reached that spot, they suddenly dropped straight down. The dirty cement was no longer hard, but perhaps the consistency of mud, maybe even quicksand. What that did was cause them to sink into the floor until only their heads were visible. There were baffled looks on their faces as they realized they were staring at the dark-haired woman's shoes rather than her head.

Well now, that had hardly been a chore. Zatanna made a show of dusting her hands off. Though, for some reason, she felt like something was off. Hadn't she counted six people instead of just—

A door that had previously been shut was flung open, a robed man storming in as he held up a gun. He was the other guy she had tailed here, a crazed manic look on his face.

—five…

"Die, you bitch!" the man roared as he pulled the trigger.

Zatanna only had time to shoot a hand out. She didn't even bother uttering a spell as she flung her magical energies in front of her. The gun fired, the awful sound of gunfire filling the room as the man fired his weapon over and over. Eventually, the gun stopped firing, all out of bullets, discarded bullet casings clattering on the floor.

None of the bullets had hit the magician.

Hovering in midair were the bullets. They were perhaps a foot or so away from Zatanna, but that didn't make them any less worrisome. Her blue eyes stared at small pieces of lead, faintly picturing them entering and exiting her body in an instant.

Then her eyes flickered away from the bullets and she scowled at the last man standing.

Her hand turned until her palm was facing her. She curled a couple of her fingers and thumb in, leaving only her second and third fingers sticking up, the two digits pressed together. She rapidly waved them back and forth, a come-hither gesture.

This had the result of ripping the gun out of the man's hand. However, it didn't go very far. Swinging her arm to her right and left and back, she magically moved the gun through the air, smacking the man across the face with the handle of the gun. Over and over, she hit him, causing his head to jerk back and forth. She didn't stop pistol whipping him until he finally collapsed off of his feet, landing hard on the floor.

For added measure, she jerked her arm down, slamming the gun onto his face. His legs spasmed before he went limp.

Alright, now she was finished.


Police cars were scattered around the block. Red and blue lights flashed, bathing the area in those colors. It was a sight that Zatanna was quite familiar with having seen it quite a bit over the last couple of months.

It wasn't a comforting sight to her, just a reminder that something bad had almost happened had she not been paying attention. She couldn't help but curse Bruce for changing her brain without her knowing. He was like a greyhound when it came to spotting suspicious behavior and some of it had rubbed off on her. Not that she needed to be on high alert considering she had spotted the Bat Worshipers fairly easily.

And it wasn't all bad, right? There was an ambulance, two EMT workers rolling a gurney with the homeless sacrifice those idiots had found. They were loading him into the back of the ambulance, the man looking quite sedate. They must have given him something to relax, which was a good thing. He was going to be traumatized by this experience for quite some time, so a medication-induced high wasn't asking for too much.

Elsewhere, cops were forcing the robed Bat Worshipers into the back of squad cars. It appeared the police were doing things by the book, which was unfortunate. If there was anyone that deserved to experience some police brutality, it was these guys with their complete lack of value in human life.

Faintly, Zatanna wished these guys could meet their idol. She had no doubt they would be regretting their life choices once they were sentenced to some demonic hell. Eternal torment seemed quite fitting.

The dark-haired woman sighed. Alright, she had done her good deed for the day. She saved a man's life, captured some blood-thirsty cultists, made the anonymous call to the police, and even hung around to make certain the cops arrived and handled everything. Damn it, she had done everything like Bruce would have done!

Okay, it may have sounded as if she had some issues with the guy, but that was far from the truth. She wasn't really that mad at him or anything, seriously. They were exs now, which really wasn't what she had wanted, but the writing had been on the walls. Bruce was trying to resume his life and adjust to a new Gotham. She was hoping to build their relationship after a three-year hiatus. In retrospect, it was just bad timing for the both of them. It didn't help matters that one of his own exs had returned out of the blue…

Alright, now she was getting irritated. It was time to leave.

Moving away from the corner she had been hiding behind—because nothing shouted suspicious like a woman peeking her head around a corner to blatantly stare at the police doing their job—she began heading down the alley she was in. It was a good thing she was a few blocks away; a spell for enhanced eyesight had allowed her to see everything as if she were right there. Allowing the spell to lift, she headed for the end of the alley, where a turn forced her to go left.

And then she stopped.

Okay, did she just walk into a different era or something?

Perhaps some context was needed. Although the alleyway she was in was leading her to a street, where modern cars were passing by, firmly cementing that she was indeed in the right year, if not decade, there was someone else that clearly didn't belong.

This elderly woman stood there, right out in the open for anyone to see should they care to look. She had this dress on that belonged in Victorian England instead of current-day San Francisco. A rich brown skirt flowed from her waist, and stopped at her ankle, hiding whatever shoes she was wearing. The same brown color covered her arms as well, ending in poofy poms at her shoulders. There was some sort of white blouse shirt that covered up the rest other body, flowing ruffles ensuring that not a lick of skin was showing aside from her face and hands.

Like she said, this lady belonged in a different era. So why was someone dressed like her doing in a bad neighborhood like this?

"Greetings, Zatanna Zatara," the woman greeted her. "You've done us all a service this day."

Okay, now something was really wrong. She didn't know this woman from the man on the moon; yet, this old lady knew her name. "Where did you hear that name?" she couldn't help but question suspiciously.

"You are the famous stage magician, Zatanna Zatara, are you not?" the elderly lady replied.

…oh, so that was where. For a moment, Zatanna forgot she had her own kind of fame.

"I'm sorry," she couldn't help but apologize. "I just wasn't expecting to meet someone like…" Uhh, okay, she couldn't say "like you" because that was just rude. "...well, just anyone in a dirty alley like this."

"You are also just brimming with magical energies," the woman continued, ignoring the apology.

Aaaand Zatanna was back to being on her guard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you not just use magic to undo a protection spell, then overwhelm a fellow mage with their own scrying spell before tossing the other men around like rag dolls?" the woman pointed out.

Well, yeah, she did, but no one was supposed to know that. Damn it, did she really need to look into investing in a disguise?

"Relax," the old lady said soothingly. "You have nothing to hide, young one. I am a kin to you, bound by the same magicks you yourself wield." She took a step towards the dark-haired woman, the sound of a high heel clicking on the dirty ground. She kept her hands in front of her, one hand holding the other. "Perhaps introductions are in order."

"Yeah, an introduction would be nice," Zatanna responded. "I'm feeling really exposed here."

As the woman drew closer, the younger woman had to wonder just how old she really was considering she couldn't even see a wrinkle on her face. Not even a liver spot. What kind of skin care regime did she use? Or was it some sort of magic spell? Yeah, she had white hair, spruced and teased into a cut an older woman preferred, but her face was younger. Except her eyes, her green eyes were dull, as if they had seen years, decades, maybe even a century. They were the worn, experienced eyes of someone that had seen a lot and could tell you some stories.

It would also explain why she seemed to be wearing an overabundance of perfume. Man, was that scent strong.

"I am a witch, just like you," she began, something that caused a bubble of irritation to well up in Zatanna. Seriously, why did everyone call her a damn witch? "You may call me Anita Soulfeeda."

"Soulfeeda?" the dark-haired woman repeated. "As in you feed on souls?"

"I believe that is its origin," Anita admitted. "It is an old name from Bulgaria, if you must know. It has been passed down in my family for generations."

"Never considered changing it, huh?"

Anita gave her a look. "I suppose I could have chosen Zatara, but that one had already been taken."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Zatara," she defended.

"And there is nothing wrong with Soulfeeda either."

"If you say so. So why is it you wanted to meet with me? I'm not really in the mood for giving an autograph."

"I come to you to help solve a murder."

Zatanna stared at her. "So, how did you want that autograph signed?"

Anita rolled her eyes. "I don't think you understand the severity of our situation."

"No, I do not, and I really don't want to get involved. The last time I did, I got involved with some blood mages. I wouldn't recommend it."

"But there are innocents in danger—whether they know it or not."

"How much danger are we talking about?"

Anita reached a hand out and gently grabbed onto Zatanna's elbow. Her touch was startlingly cold actually. "If you would follow me," the older lady said as she began to walk Zatanna back the way she came.

They made the turn, this time to the right, but instead of seeing the sight of the police cordoning off the hidden Bat Worshiper hideout, it was something else entirely.

In fact, gone was the neighborhood of dilapidated buildings. Instead, they were on an empty street, save for the occasional parked car. The two women were standing on a sidewalk, one that was impressively clean of trash. Turning her head back, Zatanna no longer saw the alleyway, instead just seeing further down the street they were on.

Alright, she had to admit it, that was one smooth teleportation spell. Hell, she hadn't even felt the woman build her own magical energies. They just transported without a moment's preparation.

"If you would look down," Anita told her gently.

Doing as she was told, Zatanna couldn't help but grimace. In front of them laid a body.

Just exactly what she wanted to see. Ugh.


A couple notes: I'm trying to insert a healthy amount of horror into this story, especially supernatural horror. I hope that came across in the first scene.

Another thing: AV and I are attempting a new posting schedule. When we posted The First Degree and Dawn of Generation Lost, AV and I felt it was quite a bit of story to dump on everyone by posting on the same days. So, going forward, we are going to have a different schedule. I will be posting this story on Tuesdays and Fridays, and AV will be posting Seventy Seven Shattered Souls on Mondays and Thursdays. Hopefully this makes it easier for everyone to read both stories.