From the moment Constantine had said "The World's Greatest Detective," Zatanna had reluctantly begun planning a return trip back to Gotham. After all, that was where the World's Greatest Detective she knew stayed. She really didn't like the thought of going back there to ask for help, not after just parting ways.
So imagine her surprise when she didn't go to an airport, but rather one of those houses on the hills, you know, the ones San Francisco was known for. Each house looked like a lower or higher step compared to the houses next to them.
The street they were on gave a good view of the bay at the bottom of the hill, the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island off in the distance. Constantine lumbered up the hill, hands stuffed into his pockets, a cigarette burning between his lips. Zatanna trailed behind him, her hands rubbing her arms due to the chilly morning air.
"This looks about right," the blond man murmured to himself as he suddenly made a sharp left turn, climbing up a set of stairs to stand right in front of a wooden door. Now, Zatanna was not all that familiar with wood, but this one looked like one of the rich variety, carefully polished despite the sea air constantly battering it. An oval window was in the middle of it, tinted so that she couldn't see through it, but she could make out some vague shapes. Constantine raised a hand up and pressed a button on an intercom that was next to the door.
"Remind me, what are we doing here again?" Zatanna asked, standing next to the man.
"We've come for help, just like I said," Constantine replied.
"From the World's Greatest Detective, right?"
"That's right."
"Umm, are you sure this is the place? I mean, I met the guy before and he didn't own a house out here."
Constantine shrugged his shoulders. "He just moved out here, if I'm not mistaken. He moves around from time-to-time."
Alright, Zatanna was beginning to have doubts about this. Whoever Constantine thought was the World's Greatest Detective, he was clearly wrong. She knew the guy on an intimate level and he didn't just "move around from time-to-time."
"And you're sure he's here," she pressed.
"Positive." At that moment, the door swung open. "See, 'ere he is."
Zatanna turned her head to look—and found nothing. She was literally looking into empty air.
"And what do I owe the displeasure, Constantine?"
Immediately, her head dropped down. She stared—she couldn't help but stare.
This was the World's Greatest Detective?
Perhaps some details would help.
See, the reason why she was looking down was because the person that opened the door was short. Like, he came up to her thighs, maybe her hips if she was being generous. He was also dressed right out of a Sherlock Holmes catalog, you know, with the coat and that hat, the deerstalker. He was also very hairy.
And he was a monkey. She couldn't help but add that important detail.
"I see you've healed up nicely, Bobo," Constantine returned the greeting, raising a hand up to remove his cigarette, flicking it away.
"No thanks to you," the monkey replied—he actually replied. As in he spoke. Talked. Communicated. His mouth opened up and words came out, words that she could actually understand. This was a talking monkey. "And it's Detective Chimp to you."
"Eh, after everything we've been through, I would have thought we weren't that formal," the blond man remarked.
"After everything we've been through, I should slam this door in your face."
Okay, so it was starting to look as if this Detective Chimp guy didn't like Constantine. Why was that becoming a running theme? It seemed like wherever this British guy went, just about everyone wasn't happy to see him. There was that Nick guy at the bar, Madame Xanadu in her attempt to barbecue him alive, and now the monkey…err, chimp? You had to know things were bad when a talking chimp didn't like someone.
"Before you do, we just wanted to talk to you about a case we're working," Constantine continued, not the least bit concerned a talking chimp didn't seem to like him. Yeah, that was like the eighth time she mentioned the talking part, but c'mon! It was a talking…chimp!
"And why should I help you?" Detective Chimp questioned.
"Cause people are dyin' and we need someone smarter than us to figure it out. You're the smartest bloke I know, and you just happen to live just down the block."
The chimp stared up at him. "So it's like that."
"Yep, that seems to be the way of things."
"You do realize I was trying to be sober today."
"Tough luck, I'd wager."
The monkey sighed before he glanced up at Zatanna. "Who's the girl?"
"She's helping me on this one. You might know her pops. She's John Zatara's kid."
The chimp perked up. "John's? Well, if this isn't a day for surprises."
"You know my dad?" Zatanna couldn't help but blurt out.
"Of course, I do. He helped me out of a difficult matter," Detective Chimp told her. "I was sad when I heard of his passing."
"Uhh, thank you?"
"Well, come on in. I'm certain John would come out of his grave if he knew I left you standing at my door when you came for my help."
The monkey then stepped to one side, holding out an arm, a gesture for them to come in. Zatanna took an uncertain step inside, Constantine following her. The door was closed behind them before Detective Chimp wandered by them, his hand-like feet slapping down against the polished floor.
Now this, this was a nice place, the dark-haired woman had to admit. White tile covered the floor, a staircase that curved upwards off to the left, ending at a second level. Zatanna found herself walking by the stairs and underneath the second floor, spying a living room area that had nice furniture, like couches and chairs and a big screen TV. Yet, it wasn't here that Detective Chimp led them as he went right for a door, shoving it open.
This led them right into an office room, one that looked like it belonged right out of Dick Tracy. Detective Chimp waddled up to a desk, where he climbed into a high-standing chair, one that allowed him to actually sit at the desk rather than just poking his head over it.
Yet, they weren't alone.
Against a wall was a couch, where a girl in black sat. She looked like she was some gothic cheerleader, what with the short black shirt, black skirt, and the twin pigtails she kept her dark hair in. She was pale, her eyes outlined in dark eyeliner. She just stared at them, blowing a bubble from the pink bubblegum she chewed in her mouth.
"This is Alice," the chimp introduced as if she were an afterthought. "One of my assistants." Then he addressed Alice, "Where's Fred?"
"Coming in," a voice said from the door. Turning, Zatanna saw a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a beer gut. "You need anything, B.T.?"
"I need a double of whatever we got."
"Starting early again? I thought this was gonna be a sober day."
The chimp nodded towards Constantine. "That changed when this guy showed up at my doorstep."
Fred stared at the blond man. "Wouldn't it be better if I got rid of him for ya? We can finally use that 'No Constantine' sign we made."
Okay, seriously, she was going to need backstory on this one. They actually made a sign to keep Constantine away. What the hell actually happened? In fact, what the hell had Constantine done to piss off so many people? This running theme was becoming ridiculous.
"You can do that after they tell me what is happening. Apparently, they need help solving a murder."
"Dark," the Alice girl chimed in, chewing on her gum.
Fred sighed. "Fine, I'll get your double. Just take it easy, alright?"
"I make no promises."
Fred left then. Detective Chimp then waved a hand to the chairs situated in front of his desk. "You'll have to excuse Fred. He and I go way back, when I was just a performance chimp in Hollywood."
Okay, scratch that. She needed to know this chimp's backstory. If he ever wrote a memoir, she would totally buy it.
"Seriously, Hollywood?" Zatanna questioned as she took a seat. "What kind of movies?"
"Nothing on DVD or any streaming service, I'm afraid," the monkey lamented. "I think I have a VHS copy somewhere around here."
"We get it, you're old," Alice snarkily said.
Zatanna glanced over her shoulder. "Okay, what's the chick's deal?"
"She is my expert into the occult and savant into the arcane," Detective Chimp answered. "In other words, if I need to use some magic, she's my girl. She just hasn't left her gothic teen phase."
"It's not a phase, it's who I am," Alice retorted.
"And you were a bubbly prep schoolgirl when I first met you," the monkey shot back.
"That's just what my parents wanted you to think. I've always been this way."
"So she's going through a teen angst phase," Constantine said. "Just let it be."
Detective Chimp gave him a look. "She's twenty-five."
"Oh. Well then, consider me informed."
"I'll also warn you, don't sleep with this one. You might not like what you get, and the last thing I need is for her to pick up on your less charming attributes."
Zatanna felt that this visit was getting derailed in a hurry. Part of that was because she was still getting used to the idea of a talking chimp. He was pretty well-spoken, even gentlemanly. Hell, he spoke better than some of the people she had met in the various bars and club scenes she had been to.
Thankfully, Fred came back in, holding a glass of some amber liquid. He placed the glass on the desk, where Detective Chimp snatched it up and took a sip. Fred didn't seem all that concerned that a monkey was drinking alcohol, instead posting himself up next and just behind the chimp.
"So, tell me why you're here," Detective Chimp said, holding his glass in front of him, absently swirling the drink as he slowly tilted the glass back and forth.
"There's a hag killing people," Constantine replied.
"An ugly old lady is killing people?" Alice repeated, adding her own adjectives of course. "Darkness."
Alright, the phony goth act was getting old, or at least whatever this Alice girl thought was goth. "Old and ugly, yeah," Constantine confirmed. "But it's a witch that sucked the life out of a worker for the Palace of Fine Arts. Turns out she was trying to get her hands on the Sworn Book of Honorius."
"I thought that book was still in London," Detective Chimp mused, taking another sip from his glass.
"It's on loan here," Zatanna explained. "One of the museum workers managed to sneak it out of the museum before the hag could get it. We have it in a safe location."
The chimp gazed at her before he purposefully looked at Constantine. "Does he know where it is?"
"Yeah, he does."
"Then it isn't safe."
"Better I know where it is than the hag," Constantine responded.
"That is debatable."
"Trust me, it's in a place even he isn't welcomed," Zatanna tried to offer as assurance.
"Do tell. There's not a lot of places this chap is welcomed, period."
"It's with Madame Xanadu."
Detective Chimp perked up at this. "Xanadu is involved too. My, my, whatever do you need me for?"
"All of our investigating into the ethereal plane is coming to dead ends," Constantine told him. "I felt we needed some real, physical world sleuthing."
"That is certainly something I can offer. However, I'm going to need some assurances."
"What sort of assurances?" Zatanna inquired.
The monkey pointed one of his fat fingers at Constantine. "He needs to play this straight. The moment I even sniff some plot of his, I'm out. I will not play a role in some convoluted scheme of his, one that ends up with this book in his hands."
"Never said I wanted the book," Constantine pointed out.
"You didn't have to. I know about this grimoire, and I know every dark creature imaginable would love to get its hands on it. You are one such dark creature."
"Savage," Alice added as commentary.
Zatanna stared at the chimp before she turned to look at Constantine. "Alright, you're gonna have to tell me what you did to this guy. I'm starting to feel like 'screwed over' doesn't begin to describe it."
"Oh, you are certainly right about that," Detective Chimp agreed. "Would you care to hear the story? I'm certain we have some snacks around here for you as you listen. It'll be quite educational."
The ringing of the bell gave Jason pause, but only for a moment. In all of the time this little store had been here, that bell had never changed.
There was something comforting about that.
Entering the Xanadu Fortune Telling Parlor, the redhead carried a book under one arm. Every time he had come here, he was always overwhelmed with the feel of magic that lived and breathed here. It was a common occurrence with Nimue, no matter where she went. Magic clinged to her, bathing her in their ebbs and flows. This parlor was no different.
The tattered remains of the curtain that normally separated the waiting room from the main parlor, however, was certainly different.
Eyeing the scorch marks on the floor and in the doorway, Jason faintly wondered what happened. Nimue was normally calm and collected and not one for outbursts. The last time he had felt her use her vast magicks, it would have been around the time she had taken her last student.
A head suddenly appeared in the doorway, gazing at him. "I'm sorry, but we're closed," the woman told him.
"So the closed sign informed me," Jason replied. "I am not here for a fortune telling, so much as I need to speak with Madame Xanadu and Zatanna Zatara."
The woman stared at him before she pulled away, vanishing from sight. Jason calmly waited before the woman reappeared, Nimue leading the way. "Jason," the dark-haired woman greeted him warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure."
A small smile appeared on his face. "It is good to see you again, Nimue," he returned the greeting. "I was hoping to speak to you and Zatanna."
The warmth on the fortune teller's face dimmed. "She is out," she said dismissively. "I do not know when she will return."
That was disappointing, but at the very least he could discuss with Nimue his findings. She would ensure that Zatanna was informed. "Then I will speak to you. It is urgent that you know what it is we are dealing with."
Nimue's face hardened. "Is it that dire?" she questioned him.
"It is certainly not good news, I am afraid."
She gestured to him with her hand, waving for him to follow her. Accepting the invitation, they moved into her parlor, taking seats at her table. All the while, Jason could not help but eye their new company. She was a young woman in a jean jacket and jeans. He didn't sense any forms of magic from her, which was odd. "I do not believe we have met," he spoke after a moment.
"We haven't," the young woman assured him. "My name's June Moone. I kinda got involved in this thing accidentally…I hope."
"Accidentally?" he inquired.
"She was attacked by the hag that drained Mr. Gordon," Nimue informed him. "We believe that aside from his latent magical energies, she was after access to the Palace of Fine Arts. His security access was found at the scene of the attack."
It seemed there were new developments. "Do we know why the attack occurred?" he asked.
Ms. Moone reached out to a book that was resting on the table. Before she even said anything, Jason's eyes widened. It couldn't be…
"She…it…was after this, the Sworn Book of Honorius," Ms. Moone answered him.
Something stirred within Jason and he immediately slammed his eyes shut. Begone… he chanted within his head. Begone…begone…
"Is something wrong?" he heard Ms. Moone ask.
"Give him a moment," Nimue told her gently, yet firmly. "This is highly necessary."
Yes, yes it was.
It took quite a bit of time before he could feel the dark stirrings recede. "If you would not mind, could we remove the book?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. "I do not believe it is a good idea for me to know of its presence."
There was a moment of silence before he heard movement. He kept his eyes closed until he heard Ms. Moone say, "I put it away somewhere."
Finally, he opened his eyes. Immediately, Jason saw the concern on Nimue's eyes. "I am fine," he told her, answering the unspoken question that hung between them.
"Are you certain?" she pressed.
"So long as that grimoire is out of my reach, yes. I believe we only gained its attention, but for now it will not make a move."
"Umm, I think I'm missing something," the younger woman interjected then. "Is…is there something wrong?"
"The less you know about it, the better," Nimue said. "For now, we have more pressing concerns."
Jason nodded his agreement. He then set his own book on the table. He couldn't help but spare a glance at a comfy chair that was next to the table, one that clashed with the decor of the parlor. "I was investigating the hag Zatanna is after through the mystical plane. We are dealing with quite an old apparition."
At this, he opened the book, the two women keeping silent as he found the page he sought. "It goes by the name Enchantress," he continued, though he kept an eye on Nimue. "Have you ever heard of her?"
"I am afraid I have not," the fortune teller answered.
Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. Your typical hag kept to themselves, reclusive by nature. It was only the rare instant that one became an issue. "Unfortunately, I do not come bearing good news. My research has led me to believe she is a being of the Nightshade Realm."
"Of course, they come from the Nightshade Realm," Nimue grumbled. "All evil entities come from that realm."
"Uhh, question?" Ms. Moone interrupted. "What is the Nightshade Realm?"
Jason looked to her. "My apologies. The Nightshade Realm is the world in which most malevolent entities come from. Most cannot manifest here without a gateway, or a host to infest. In that, we do not have to worry about most of its terrible denizens."
"But this hag…Enchantress person was able to get here?" Ms. Moone asked.
"Yes. Most likely it was some sort of summoning ritual that went wrong. The Enchantress was able to take over the summoner, or the sacrifice, or anyone else present and gained a foothold here. Without having been there to witness it, it is impossible to know for certain."
"So she comes from some dark universe place? Like Hell?"
"Not like Hell," Nimue responded. "That is its own realm."
Ms. Moone's eyes widened. "Hell is real?"
"Not in the Christian sense, but there is a realm known as Hell. It is a hellscape rife with demons."
"But that sounds just like Hell."
"The main difference, I suppose, is that most humans cannot reach Hell, not in the way you have been told," Jason told her. "Which is fortunate for us. If you were to find yourself there, you would be consumed, body and soul."
"That…that doesn't sound pleasant."
"It isn't."
"How is that any different from the Nightshade place?"
"The beings of the Nightshade Realm are masters of darkness. In fact, imagine a world of pure darkness. Shadows and shades consume everything that trespasses, the darkness hiding any manner of creatures. Think of the monster hiding in the closet or under the bed, if you will."
"Like the boogeyman?"
"Or this Enchantress," Nimue interjected. "What did you learn of her, Jason?"
Jason closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. "Not much, I am afraid. My collection on the Nightshade Realm was not as robust as I believed."
"Are there any other books around?" Ms. Moone inquired.
"None that would be relevant. Most accurate texts on the realm date back to the Middle-Ages. Magick gave way to science during the Enlightenment, and thus any subsequent materials are questionable at best, fabrications at worst."
"What were you able to uncover?" Nimue then asked.
"If this book is to be believed, the Enchantress is power hungry, though that isn't saying much since most demons and demonic creatures all crave power. In her case, she holds a coveted station in the Nightshade Realm, at least until her summoning here. There was a rumor of a summoning circle that went wrong, which led to a number of sorcerers to lead a campaign to stop her."
"Did they stop her?" Ms. Moone asked softly.
"At most, they prevented her from achieving her primary objective, whatever it was. She was confined to a swamp in the furthest reaches of Eastern Europe. That is all I was able to uncover."
"Which isn't much at all," Nimue said regretfully. "I am afraid my own scrying has been fruitless as well."
Now that was troubling. Nimue was one of the finest scryers in the world; if she could not make headway, then this Enchantress had covered her tracks well.
That was not a good thing.
After leaving Detective Chimp's office…home…place, Zatanna had parted ways with Constantine. He hadn't objected too much and just wandered off. The dark-haired woman had purposefully gone the other way, which was for the best. After the whopper of a story she had just heard, having some space from the guy was warranted.
The words, "What the actually fuck," didn't begin to describe the story.
Faintly, she wondered what she had just witnessed. No, she didn't have to wonder, she was freaking there! She had a talk with a talking chimp. A chimp! And one dressed in a Sherlock Holmes get-up to boot! You simply could not make this stuff up!
And that wasn't even taking into consideration the screwed-up story about the last time Constantine and the chimp interacted with each other. Yeesh!
Her phone suddenly began ringing, and she absently answered it. She was just too caught up with meeting a talking monkey playing detective. "Zatanna," she greeted automatically.
"Zatanna, it's Jeff."
"Jeff who?"
"Jeff Sloane, your manager, remember? The one you tracked down after three years to restart the troupe?"
For a moment, Zatanna had no idea what was going on before her brain finally caught up. "Oh! Sorry, Jeff, I just have a lot on my mind."
"I can tell. Don't worry, I'll make this short. I've got a few dates for the show confirmed."
The dark-haired woman nodded, even if Jeff couldn't see her. "That's great. When and where?"
"First one is two weeks out in Phoenix. Seemed appropriate for our first show, ya know? Like a phoenix rising from the ashes."
"And they say I'm the showwoman here."
"You can make that, right?" Jeff questioned her. "This is our first show in awhile and we can't cancel. It'll look bad if we do."
"Don't worry, I'll make it. I've got a couple things I need to tie up in San Francisco, but you can count on me."
"You're already in San Fran? I thought you were still in Gotham."
Did she not tell Jeff she had left? How forgetful of her. "I found out my dad had a residence here and I'm trying to tie off some loose ends," she told him.
"I didn't know your father had a place out there."
"Me neither. I just found out." Okay, that was a fib, but her having to do some work on her father's estate would buy her some time with Jeff. He would understand estate proceedings taking some time. "Once I get things in a manageable spot, I'll head down to Phoenix."
"These things can take some time," Jeff responded cautiously. "And it would be a good idea if we did some rehearsals. The whole troupe needs to get comfortable with each other again, and we need to discuss what sort of tricks you'll be doing."
Yeah, that was one thing she hadn't missed—show logistics. A lot went into a production, no matter the locale. "Let's do a few of our standbys," she immediately said. "We can do the rings, the mirrors, and the disappearing box."
"Got it. Do you have anything new you want to try?"
Zatanna thought about that. She honestly hadn't thought of anything, what with her busy schedule and all. That was her fault though. "I'll see what I can think of in the next week. We might just have to use this as a dress rehearsal instead of a grand re-opening." She held up her hand, staring at it. Faintly, she wondered if she could use real magic in her show.
Hmm, that wasn't a bad idea actually.
"That's good to know. I'll get Jane to see what else we have on hand. It might be too early to bring out the saw box."
Zatanna wrinkled her nose. "Uhh, no, we're not doing that lame trick. Everyone knows how it works now, and I'm not interested in getting my hands on two contortionists for the trick."
"Alright, good point. Once Jane and I go over some things, we'll be in touch. You better start practicing too. It's been awhile and you could be rusty."
"C'mon, Jeff, look who you're talking to."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I said it."
"Jerk," she grumbled. "Alright, anything else?"
"Not right now. Just promise me you'll make the show."
"I promise you. Look, I've got to go now. Be in touch."
Without waiting for a reply, Zatanna hung up her phone. While she was excited to get the troupe back together, she had forgotten about all of the little details that had gone into running it. They were coming back with a vengeance now. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she kept walking down the street—
"Are you finished with your phone call?"
Zatanna let out a short shriek before jerking to one side. Standing there was Anita Soulfeeda, who was staring at her expectantly. She hadn't even been there a second ago!
Had Bruce opened up a school to teach people that trick or something?
"What are you doing here, Anita?" she demanded, her nose wrinkling as she was assaulted with a very strong smell. "And why does it smell like you bathed yourself in perfume?"
"I applied the amount necessary," Anita responded, not sounding the least bit insulted.
"Then you're going to need to look up what the word necessary means, because damn. I think they can smell you on Alcatraz from here."
"I did not come here to speak to you about my use of perfume."
"Then why are you here?"
"I came to see what your progress was on the murderer."
Oh, right, they hadn't talked about that in awhile, and Zatanna was certain she hadn't contacted the old lady. Opps. "Well, I can tell you that Mr. Gordon, the guy you found, was most likely in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. Turns out, Gordon was working for the Palace of Fine Arts and our murder suspect just used his employee badge to get in and try and steal the Sworn Book of Honorius."
"You lie!" Anita snarled. "That book cannot be here!"
Was it sad that Zatanna was getting used to such reactions? Heh, maybe she should mention John Constantine. Maybe he screwed her over too; chances were good of that considering everyone that seemed to know him acted the exact same way. "Turns out it's on loan," she told her. "I'm not certain how the hag found out about it, but she did."
The older woman stared at her, though this time it was for a different reason. "We are dealing with a hag? How unfortunate," she murmured. "It would seem I greatly underestimated this matter."
"You were the first one to sniff the trail," the dark-haired woman was quick to point out. "Without you, none of us would be working this. I've even got a few people working on it."
"You have recruited others? Whom have you spoken to about this?"
"Madame Xanadu for one. She's the one that put us on the track for the hag. Also, this guy called Jason Blood. He seems to know quite a bit. Lastly, me and a guy called John Constantine just recruited a Detective Chimp to look at this from a different angle."
"You have certainly been busy," Anita remarked.
The magician nodded. "Perhaps you should come meet the others. That way we're all on the same page. You've surely found out something too, right?"
Anita shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. My time spent away from the world seems to have had some adverse effects. I have had some difficulty navigating this new world. Thus, I have not made as much progress on my end."
Hmm, that was not something she had expected. It made sense though, surprisingly. "We should still meet with the others. It'd be a good thing for you to hear things firsthand."
"You are not wrong, but there is one last avenue I wish to investigate," Anita declined. "I will be in touch though, sooner rather than later, I hope."
Zatanna shrugged her shoulders. "Well, if you change your mind, just head over to Madame Xanadu's Fortune Telling Parlor. You can look it up on the internet if you have trouble finding it."
There was a moment of silence. Then, "What is the internet?"
You have got to be kidding me.
