The body was laying on its back. It was shriveled, revealing the contours of bone through the thinned flesh. The skin had tanned into a dried, brown color, giving it a leathery look. Rigor mortis had set in as the arms were held up, bent at the elbows, the fingers curled slightly. The face though, was frozen in a silent, perpetual scream, the eyes forever staring at the unknown horror that had created it.
"Yep, this is a dead body," Zatanna stated as she stared down at it, placing her hands on her hips. It's what all those TV detectives did, so she didn't see any reason not to copy the pose. And now the most important question of all: "Why am I looking at a dead body?"
The elderly crone at her side merely gazed down at it. "We are here to solve its murder. That is something you do, is it not?"
"I think I need to remind you, I'm just a magician. What you want is a detective. I have the number of a good one, if that's what you're looking for."
Anita shook her head. "There are aspects to this that a simple policeman would not be able to investigate."
Zatanna raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"For instance, the magical aspect to this crime."
"What magic?" Zatanna returned her eyes to the body. It was still dressed in its clothes, though it looked as if they were draped over it rather than wearing them. "Aside from it looking like a weirdly-dressed mummy, I'm having a—"
Anita raised a hand up and the body began to glow a light blue. It was actually pretty considering it was coming from something with dried, leathery skin. "This body's former life was blessed with magical powers, albeit latent ones. He was not able to manifest them and lived in ignorant bliss."
The glow faded away then, leaving the body lying there. "Okay, so this person didn't know how to use magic. That describes me just a couple years ago," the dark-haired woman pointed out.
"I fear that whatever killed this man, it was because of these latent powers," Anita told her.
Oh, joy, more innocent people getting killed because they had unknown magical powers. Zatanna had read this book before. Couldn't say she was a fan. Sighing, she stepped to the body and took a knee next to it. She began patting its clothes as she started to search it.
"Whatever are you doing?" Anita asked her, puzzled.
"Searching the body for clues," Zatanna answered her as she began to dig into the pockets on the pants. She pulled out a smartphone, a set of keys, and a wallet. Pressing the button to turn on the phone, its screen immediately lit up, a stock image of a rolling tide appearing with the date and time. Apparently, their dead person hadn't bothered to personalize their phone. How dull.
Swiping her thumb over the screen, she was immediately met with a password command. Well, that was a bust.
Turning the phone off, she then opened the wallet and was greeted with the sight of a driver's license. "Eric Gordon," she read off. "Well, sorry, Eric Gordon. I wish this didn't happen to you."
"Are you done?" her white-haired companion questioned. "Your perusal is wasting time."
"Hey, you can learn a lot from checking a person's possessions," Zatanna defended as she stood up. "For instance, I now know this was a man called Eric Gordon."
"How could you not tell this was a man simply by looking at it?"
"Look at how shriveled it is. It's a literal skeleton with skin hanging from it. There aren't any discernible features there to indicate if it was a guy or girl skeleton."
Anita stared at her. "What about its clothes?"
"Women wear men's clothing in this day and age. In some cases, they're comfier."
"And you would know this how?"
Zatanna was about to answer that when she was reminded that Anita here was dressed in an attire from a bygone era. She most likely had certain sensibilities that didn't quite mess with the modern age. "No reason. What's important is that we have confirmation that this was indeed a man. A man, you claim, to have unused powers and died for it."
"That is what I already know. I was hoping you could reveal other clues to his demise."
"Well, we don't know how he died, though it probably isn't a stretch that it wasn't pleasant." The younger woman paused. "Have you been able to determine how he ended up this way? Was it a spell, or something?"
"I think that would be obvious. There is no man-made invention that leaves behind such bodies."
"Then what kind of spell does this sort of thing?" Zatanna pressed. "Surely you can think of a few."
Anita considered this. "Well, if I had to guess, it would appear as if the man's lifeforce was removed, sucked out as it were."
Zatanna stared at her. "You didn't do this, did you?"
Anita looked insulted by the accusation. "Why would I bring another person to investigate a crime I would have committed? Why would you even think I would be involved?"
"You said this person could have had their lifeforce sucked out. That's kinda like having someone's soul being removed, right?"
"That is one way to describe it, yes."
"And your last name is Soulfeeda. That describes this entire scene pretty well, don't you think? I mean, it's literally the origin of your name."
Silence. "That is an unfortunate coincidence of this situation. I promise, I had no involvement in this person's death."
"Well, so long as you promised, I guess I believe you. Just know you're still a person of interest."
Anita looked offended at the remark, but Zatanna ignored her. She just stared at the body, trying to imagine how the spell would have sucked every last drop of life from the corpse. "I'm kinda new at this magic thing—somewhat. If what you said is true and the reason for the soulsucking was because this guy had untapped magic powers, why take the soul? Why not just take the magic?"
"Because magic is intrinsically tied to the soul," Anita answered her. "You cannot take one without taking the other."
"I managed to seal off someone's magic before, you know, without killing them. Wouldn't that be proof enough that magic and the soul can be separated?"
As Zatanna looked back at her companion, she saw a thoughtful look on her face. "That is an interesting notion," she admitted. "Though it is likely that whoever did this did not care to do so. Instead of sparing a life, they felt consuming it was the easier choice."
Well, that just sounded lazy. Zatanna was about to say as much as something caught her eye. Some kind of movement appeared in the corner of her eye and she glanced towards it. Further down the strangely empty street, she could have sworn she thought she saw something flapping, like the end of a coat. It was right where an alleyway stood.
"Just a second," the magician said before she began walking towards the alley, picking up her pace until she was jogging. She reached the mouth of the alley soon after and peered into it.
Further down it, she spotted a man. He was wearing a trench coat, his back to her, clearly what she spotted only a moment ago. She couldn't make out any of his features, because again, he had his back to her.
However, there was an intersecting alley and he was making a turn into the right one. He paused as he lit a cigarette, the tip glowing red. He took a drag, blowing smoke out of his mouth before he seemed to glance in her direction. It was just for a split-second before he took a step and vanished into the intersecting alley.
"Hey!" Zatanna shouted as she went running down the alleyway. She shot into the intersection, ready to turn right, only to come to a stop. There was no sign of the trench coat-wearing man, which was just annoying.
It couldn't be a coincidence that he was here. What were the chances he was just minding his own business and came across two women inspecting a body? Not very good, if you asked her. Turning around, she nearly squeaked from surprise as she found Antia standing behind her expectantly.
"Is something wrong?" the older woman asked.
"No, not really," Zatanna answered her as she ran a hand through her long, dark hair. "I just thought I saw someone in this alley. They're clearly not here, as you can see."
"So I see. Shall we resume our investigation?"
She shook her head. "I don't think we're going to be learning much more here. I'm going to go confirm with a…a colleague of mine. She might be able to give me some direction."
"If that is what you feel is best, then so be it." Anita then raised her hands up, using one to slip into the sleeve of the other. She then pulled out a card and held it out to her. Taking it, Zatanna only saw a symbol on it. What looked like a small diamond grew wings on either side, curving upwards. Between the wings and above its main body was a five-point star. The entire thing was contained within a circle, making it some sort of emblem or perhaps a family crest.
"Nice card?" she remarked for lack of anything else to say. What did one say when the only relevant thing about a card was some symbol she didn't know the meaning behind?
"This is how you can get a hold of me," Anita told her. "I know you'll be in touch."
"I'm guessing you don't have a phone number, do you?"
The older woman stared at her. "I do not, no."
Zatanna held the card up in the air, tilting her head back as the sky became a backdrop. "So what do I have to do? Say a spell and it'll contact you?"
"A simple communication spell will suffice. I'm certain you know one."
"I think I can come up with something."
Not a thing had changed. The same little bell rang as the door hit it, announcing a customer had walked in. The little sitting area had the same chairs and stools and even the same magazines. Seriously, someone needed to update their subscription; even doctor offices changed out their waiting room reading materials every so often.
Zatanna was just going to have to speak to the owner, manager, and the sole employee of this mystical establishment. Spotting the clock placard that said WE'LL BE BACK, Zatanna moved the little plastic hands to a random time, then opened the door and placed it on it. Closing the door again, she then locked it.
You didn't know when some weirdos or girls with strange magic books they inherited from their father might show up.
Heading to the curtain, the dark-haired woman moved it aside and entered the main parlor. She saw the table and the crystal ball on top of it. The candles were lit, and considering how tall they were, it was a recent thing.
All right, Xanadu, where are you hiding?
If history was anything to go by, then the fortune teller was in the bathroom. Or maybe she was cleaning her bedroom in that awful apron she wore. Considering the younger woman had rung the bell upon arriving, Xanadu had to have heard it, wherever she was. She hadn't hung out the closed sign, so she was clearly open for business. She wouldn't let—
"I see you've come crawling back from Gotham."
Zatanna spun around, finding Xanadu standing in front of the curtain that separated the parlor from the waiting room. Clearly someone was trying to get the drop on her—amateur. "I did not come crawling back," she snapped. "I decided to leave on my own volition."
"Meaning your reason for going to that hellscape did not end the way you intended and you left to lick your own wounds," the older woman surmised.
Okay, so perhaps some context was needed, along with some backstory. Madame Xanadu, her torturous, nurturing teacher, had sent her on a quest to obtain some magical artifact that may or may not exist at this point. Instead of finding it, Zatanna found herself in the company of the world's greatest heroes, stopping a genocidal maniac from flooding the world with this creepy, green ooze that could resurrect the dead, but kill the living horribly—oh, and restored the man she thought dead who single-handedly took down the world's greatest heroes and then turned against the genocidal maniac all the while having amnesia. Was that a long, run-on sentence? Yes, it was, but it perfectly described the situation Xanadu had sent her into.
So when Zatanna decided to help her long-lost teen crush to get back onto his feet and perhaps pick up where they left off, she had made a telephone call to Xanadu saying she was hanging out in Gotham for awhile. Xanadu…had been less than pleased with that call. There had been something about her training not being complete, blah, blah, blah, insert another Star Wars reference here, and Zatanna ended up staying in Gotham.
As you can see, Xanadu was holding a grudge.
"I am not licking my wounds. I'm a big girl, in case you hadn't noticed," Zatanna retorted.
"And yet, here you are, in my parlor, just like last time."
"Hey, I thought he was dead and I was grieving. This is entirely different."
"Yet, it has the same result."
Zatanna glowered at the fortune teller. See, this was why she was avoiding a quick visit. It was what she assumed talking with a mother figure would be like. Seeing as hers was dead, or at least that's what her dad told her when she was little, she didn't really care to have a replacement. "Shut up. You wouldn't know anything about it."
Xanadu gave her a knowing look. "Are you sure?"
"Unless you were using your crystal ball to…" she trailed off. "Seriously, you were using your crystal ball to scry on me?"
"I sensed you using your full power through the magical plane. I was concerned and wanted to see if you were alright. I have to say, you burned through your power way too quickly during that missile attack."
"Awww, so you do care about me."
Xanadu rolled her eyes and began walking towards her table. "To what do I owe this visit of yours this time?"
Yes, let's get down to business. It was preferable to rehashing the last few months. "You wouldn't happen to know an Anita Soulfeeda, would you?"
Xanadu paused, actually coming to a stop next to her table. She turned her head, her long, dark, luxurious hair sliding over her opposite shoulder. "Anita?" she questioned. "How do you know that name?"
Zatanna shrugged as she walked over to her teacher. "Well, I was just minding my own business, putting down another cell of Bat Worshipers that seem to be infesting this city, when this Anita person approached me. She said there were a whole bunch of strange murders going on with people that have latent magical powers."
"Anita," Xanadu repeated, her tone rather dubious.
"Yeah, you know her?"
"I do. She is a recluse that normally shuns the rest of the world. I haven't seen her in decades since she retreated into isolation in Bulgaria."
Well, at least that Bulgarian family name thing made some sense. "So basically she's you without the fortune teller parlor."
Xanadu gave her a look. "I would advise you to keep your witty remarks to yourself. I too can turn you into a newt if I so wish."
"Ah, you saw that part too, huh?"
"I did."
Alright, they were getting a little off track. "So Soulfeeda doesn't have any sinister aspects to it, does it?"
The fortune teller moved to her table and took a seat in her chair. "I assume you're referring to the name's origin. Of course it does, though not in the way you think of it."
"So she's not from a family of soul feeding demons?"
Xanadu blinked her eyes. "Well, actually yes, but again, not the way you think."
Zatanna took a seat opposite the older woman, crossing one leg over the other as she made herself comfortable. "How about you tell me the story behind this name? It would certainly clarify a few things."
"Very well." Xanadu sighed. "Many centuries ago, there was a family of demon hunters in Eastern Europe. They disguised themselves as demons to infiltrate a nesting there, taking on the name Soulfeeda to complete their guise. After wiping out the nest, they maintained the name for other infiltrations until they just kept the name. Anita is a direct descendent of this family."
So that was the story. Still, why hadn't Anita told her that? She seemed pretty reluctant to tell her much about herself—perhaps that was the recluse thing going on. "I'm guessing these demons they pretended to be were soul feeders," she ventured.
"According to the stories, yes. There's nothing definitive that they did so, but there are rumors of such things."
"Well, according to Anita here, there's someone going around sucking out the souls of people with latent magic powers. She took me to one such body so we could investigate."
"Is that right? It must be something significant for her to leave her domicile and willingly interact with others."
"Perhaps it would be best if I showed you," Zatanna suggested. She began to reach out to the crystal ball, stopping halfway before she asked, "May I?"
"You may," Xanadu relented.
Fully extending her hands, she held them on either side of the crystal ball. Zatanna began moving her lips, silently mouthing an incantation. Her eyes were closed as she focused and directed her powers unto the crystal ball.
Within the ball, a hazy cloud appeared, swirling on itself. Then it began to thin, becoming a fog that eventually parted, revealing the shriveled corpse of Eric Gordon. Opening her eyes, Zatanna's face was wrinkled from the concentration she was under. She looked to her teacher, who was staring at the image dispassionately.
"How do you know his soul was removed?" she asked after a moment.
"Anita told me."
"If Anita said so, then I can concur. That is a classic example of a body with their lifeforce removed."
"Is there anything we're missing?"
"From what you are showing me, I cannot tell. Perhaps if there were some personal effects of this person, I could divine something."
Well, as it turned out, Zatanna had such personal effects. Allowing the image to fade away from within the crystal ball, her concentration relaxing as the wrinkles on her face disappeared, she then reached into her pocket and pulled out Eric Gordon's wallet. "I took this off of the—" she began.
Xanadu jolted back in her seat, hissing as her eyes bored holes into the wallet. The reaction had been so instantaneous that Zatanna was surprised, dropping the tri-fold onto the table. "Put it away!" the fortune teller hissed, her eyes changing color from green to red.
Zatanna scrambled to remove the wallet, shoving it back into her pocket. You may be wondering how she did this considering most women's jeans had the tiniest, most impractically formed pockets made by man, but she had enchanted her pockets to hold as much as she wanted. She could hide a planet in them if she wanted, not that she would try, of course. But that was the reason why she could stuff a man's wallet into a woman's jeans pocket.
The red in Xanadu's eyes faded away, returning her normal eye color. She was actually panting, which was even weirder. In all the time she had known her, the dark-haired woman had never seen her teacher out of breath, or even with a single strand of hair out of place. "Okay, mind telling me what's going on?" Zatanna asked after a moment.
"There is a hag in our midst."
"A hag," she repeated. "Alright, I'll bite. What is a hag?"
"Exactly what I said, child," Xanadu responded sternly. "Everyone, even children know what a hag is: a witch that serves demonic forces, a practitioner of the dark arts."
"Oh, so that kind of hag." Zatanna paused. "So, an actual witch?"
"Yes, an actual witch."
Alright, she could see where this was going. Already, people were calling her a witch; it wasn't that much of a leap to know that hag was next. Like hell would Zatanna Zatara be called a hag. She was a vibrant, young woman, thank you very much. She did not cackle in front of a caldron with warts prominent on her face, and a multitude of black cats lounging around.
"And this witch, hag thing sucked the soul out of this guy?" she questioned.
"That is what it appears to be."
"How could you tell?"
"A hag leaves their mark, no matter the spell or enchantment they use. It's rather vile to the senses." A questioning look appeared on Xanadu's face. "Strange that you cannot detect it yourself."
"Is it really that obvious?" Zatanna inquired.
"You have smelled roadkill before, yes? Particularly skunks? It is very much like that, only in the magick sense."
Okay, that made sense. "Perhaps my senses were overloaded when I approached the body," she suggested. "When a skunk sprays someone, their sense of smell will shut down so that the person isn't overwhelmed by it. I was led right into this scene, so my magical senses could have shut down to protect me."
"Perhaps. We will need to purify your senses then."
Well, that sounded fun—not. "Anything else you can tell me about this hag? Like what she's up to? That would be a real big help."
"Hags are only interested in their own self-interest. This one you seek sought out this man's unused power, no doubt for their own intentions. Be warned, this is only the beginning. A hag does not stop unless forced to."
"Yeah, kinda figured that." Zatanna stood up. "So I guess I'll hit the pavement and look for some ugly witch. What do you intend on doing?"
"I will seek out this hag through the divine."
"I was hoping you'd say that." Chances were Xanadu would find something to give her better direction. "I'll leave it to you then. I'll be in touch."
Heading for the curtain, she pulled it apart to allow her past. "Do you want me to lock up behind me?" she called out over her shoulder.
"You may leave it open," came the answer.
"Not afraid the hag will barge in and try and take your powers, huh?"
Zatanna didn't need to see the look that was no doubt on Xanadu's face. She could imagine it perfectly seeing as she had seen it a number of times already. "The hag would be a fool to enter my domain. If she does, I will smite her down where she stands."
The younger woman had no doubt about that. There was a statue in San Francisco that had a soul imprisoned in it that was a testament to that. So, she raised a hand up, gave a wave, and let the curtain fall behind her. Heading for the door, Zatanna unlocked and opened it, snatching the placard clock sign and tossing it onto one of the nearby couches.
Passing through the doorway, she let the door close behind her. It wasn't a cold day by far, but for some reason Zatanna felt a chill. She wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps it was because she was going up against the supernatural again and she still recalled her last encounter with it. A demon that possessed her father's corpse had not been a fun time.
"So, you know about the hag."
Okay, what was it with people sneaking up and speaking to her today? That was the third one today! Rolling her head to one side, she spotted a man leaning up against the window front of Xanadu's parlor.
And then she really stared at him.
He had blond hair, short and scraggly. It was like he had gotten out of bed, did the bare minimum to comb it, and then gave up. Considering he had a five o' clock shadow, that was entirely the case. However, he made it look good because damn, he was pretty handsome.
But then she noticed two things: one, he had a cigarette between his lips. Now, that normally wouldn't have been too important had it not been for the second thing: he was wearing a trench coat.
She had seen a man in a trench coat smoking not too far from Eric Gordon's body.
"You!" she shouted as she pointed a finger at him.
"You yourself," he grunted back, pointing a finger at her.
"Why are you pointing at me?" she demanded.
"Cause you're pointing at me. Figured it was the thing to do."
"Well, I'm pointing at you for a reason!"
"And what is that reason, love?"
Love? Really? "First off, I don't know you, so quit with the term of endearment, pal," she snapped. "And second, I saw you by the body."
"And which body could you be talking about?"
"The one I saw you at. What, do you hang around a lot of dead bodies, or something?"
"As a matter o' fact, I do. Some of those blokes are better company than most living people, I'll tell ya."
Okay, this had gotten morbid real quickly. Handsome Guy here was rapidly becoming Creepy Guy in her mind. "Mind telling me what you were doing there?" she asked exasperatedly.
"The same thing you and ol' Anita were doing," he told her, moving his hand to grab his cigarette. He took a puff before removing the tobacco stick, blowing out the smoke soon after. "I was investigating that poor lad's death."
"Were you now?" She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "How do I know you weren't the one that killed him and we just narrowly missed you?"
"Not a sharp one, are ya?" the blond man returned, which only caused Zatanna to bristle. "Well, considering Anita showed you the body, she had to have found it before she brought ya to it. Make sense?"
Actually, yeah, that did. The dark-haired woman couldn't help the begrudging look that appeared on her face. "I guess," she relented. "So you what? Showed up after us?"
"Something like that. Figured I'd listen in on what you could figure out before I did my own once-over."
"So why aren't you doing that instead of being here?"
The man nodded his head towards Xanadu's door. "Well, I recognized ya as Xanadu's new stoolie, and I thought this would be the best chance to learn what she knew."
"I am not a stoolie," Zatanna gritted out. She was really getting irritated by this guy and his casual insults. Then something occurred to her. "And what do you mean by 'new'?"
"You ain't the first person she's mentored," he shrugged. "She don't do it often, so you must be special."
The young woman arched an eyebrow. "Care to see just how special I am?"
The man took another puff of his cigarette before he flicked it away. The cigarette butt skipped ended up on the sidewalk, skipping a few times across it. "No, not particularly," he replied, smoke pouring out of his mouth. Not exactly an attractive sight, to be honest. "But it should not surprise you that others in the magick community have noticed the sudden uptick in murders of our brethren."
"So, you noticed too." Zatanna shifted her weight onto one leg, bending the knee of the other. "So why haven't any of you done anything about it?"
"We couldn't find any leads—until now." The man shoved himself off the side of the building and took a couple of steps, coming to stand in front of the dark-haired woman. "Care to have a drink with me to discuss this matter further?"
Zatanna initially wanted to blow the guy off. There was just something she didn't like about him. He was gruff, nonchalant, and now mysterious. Faintly, she could hear Jane Sizemore's voice in the back of her head saying he had a lot of qualities she liked in a guy. Well, two out of three wasn't bad, but in this case, she just didn't feel the click.
However, as she looked at his rugged face, something in her made her say, "So long as you're buying."
Okay, why did she say that now?
