"You better hope that rubs out. I don't think the theater is going to like you drawing on their floor."

Constantine looked up from the floor, a piece of chalk in hand. He gave her a blank stare before returning his attention to the symbol he was drawing on the floor.

Zatanna just watched bemused. The show had gone on without a hitch. The audience had loved her, cried out for an encore, and she had considered obliging, but she knew she had other things that needed her attention. Like the reason why Constantine was drawing on the floor of her dressing room.

"Everyone has a preferred spell, but since I don't even know the basics of how you do things, I'm doing it the way I know how," the blond man said as he continued drawing. He had already drawn a circle and was now making the rune symbols for his spell. Each symbol was drawn on the inner side of the circle, three of which were completed with the fourth not too far away.

The dark-haired woman just watched, propping her head up with one hand as she had her elbow on the armrest. One leg was crossed over the other, her foot tapping back and forth in a rhythmic manner. This was supposed to be her training apparently, though it was unlike anything she had ever done. So far she hadn't encountered a monster trying to eat her, so that was already a plus.

"And done," Constantine announced before he raised a hand up and gestured for Zatanna to join him. Uncrossing her legs, she stood up and walked over to him, looking down at his handiwork. "I want you to study it, memorize, then do it yourself," he told her.

"And this is supposed to help me get a handle on my powers?" she questioned.

"That's the idea." He leaned back so that he was sitting on his knees. "Go on and feed it your power."

"Okay." Zatanna knelt down next to the man and held a hand over the design. Summoning her magical energies, she began directing it to the symbol.

A moment later, it began to glow, at first an orange light, then a purple one. She wasn't certain why there was a color change, but she didn't voice it. "Now what?"

"Now I want you to use a spell to enter a memory. Doesn't matter what kind of spell, just whatever is your favorite."

"Well, I haven't done this on purpose before, so I don't really have a favorite," she admitted. "And what memory are you talking about? One of mine? One of yours?"

"Definitely not me, love," Constantine immediately responded. "I like ya a lot, but we aren't that close."

"How much closer do I have to be? We're already doing it in every meaning of the word."

"Sex is easy; relationships take awhile."

"Well, if that's the way you see it, just see how long you can go without doing me then. You better hope your right hand isn't jealous from not receiving attention in a long while."

Constantine just rolled his eyes. "Will you just use a memory spell? And on something, anything other than me."

Zatanna didn't bother verbally responding, only rolling her eyes before she began looking around the room. She spotted that Mordred sword and considered that for a moment. She was certain it had memories tied to it that she could view, but then she remembered seeing Xanadu. The way the fortune teller had responded, it was as if she had detected her. That gave her pause. It was entirely possible that was part of the memory and the person she was detecting had actually been there, just behind her, so the older woman turning her head in her direction was just coincidental.

On the other hand, Xanadu was very powerful. She very well could have detected someone viewing her through a memory. Honestly, if that was the case, Zatanna didn't want to chance drawing the woman's ire. Xanadu was not someone to cross lightly, and her storming a medieval castle spoke to a woman different from her present, more reclusive self.

Alright, so she wasn't looking into the sword. What else could she look into? Scanning the room, she really didn't find anything interesting that would have some kind of memory to look into. This was a dressing room, so the only things that could possibly happen was someone preparing for a show, or cleaning themselves up after one. Maybe some steamy action with a co-star, but Zatanna really wasn't interested in that at the moment. Maybe some other time.

It was then she realized there was something else in the room she could look into. There was a slight weight on her head, the top hat she wore for her own shows. It was also the same hat her father had worn when he had performed. Reaching a hand up, she removed the hat and looked at it. This hat had been through quite a few things, whether it was on her head or her father's.

And honestly, she was wondering what this spell she was building would do if used on it.

"Alright, I got what I want to look at," she told Constantine, looking at him.

"You've got a pretty good charge going," he responded, staring at her impassively. "Now, direct it like you would any spell. Cast a spell designed to view memories in this case."

Okay, that sounded simple enough. Returning her attention to her hat, she focused on it, even as the symbol she was powering up glowed in the background. She considered the words she wanted to use, worked in the ones she wanted, and then spoke them.

"Wohs em ruoy seiromem."

That pulling sensation seized her, and Zatanna was drawn into the hat. There was a rushing feeling, but one that wasn't out of her control. In fact, she felt like she was leading this trip rather than being yanked off of her feet.

She was in a room then, that same brown tint coloring her world.. That world was an office, one cluttered with papers and little amusing trinkets. There was an organized chaos about it though, so you couldn't say it was messy, but it certainly wasn't clean. Faintly, she felt there was something familiar about this place.

It was small too, not a lot of walking room. There was a door one one side, a desk positioned perhaps a couple steps away with chairs on either side. They weren't comfortable chairs; in fact, they looked as if they had just been conveniently grabbed and placed here.

However, one of the chairs was taken, and Zatanna nearly stumbled when she saw her father. He wasn't looking at her, instead focused on writing something at the desk. At his side was his top hat, placed on top of a nearby mannequin head he liked to keep around.

For a moment, she stared at him with longing. It had been so long since she had seen him and she found she had an ache in her chest just by looking at him. He wasn't that twisted demon she had last seen; this was actually him.

And now that she was actually looking at him, he was so young-looking. She hadn't realized how gracefully he had aged. He appeared as if he were in his early thirties, though there was a touch of gray at his temples. Maybe he was in his thirties for all she knew. This was supposed to be a memory after all.

There was a knock at the door, which caused her father to stop what he was writing and look up. For a moment, he tilted his head towards her, as if he were looking right at her, but then he glanced back at the door. Remembering what she had thought of when Xanadu had done the same thing, Zatanna looked behind her and noticed a clock. He must have been checking the time instead of looking at her.

"Come in," her father called out, his rumbling, comforting voice called out. Now she was really in the feels. God, she had missed his voice. It could always calm her down, even when she was in full meltdown mode.

The door opened, and a young man entered. There were shadows that covered his face, so she couldn't get a good look at him. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans though, which wasn't all that uncommon. Most of the troupe wore that sort of outfit when working for them.

"John, please sit down," her father said, gesturing with a hand. Immediately, Zatanna perked up. She took a couple of side steps towards her father's side of the desk so that she could get a better look at his mystery man.

And she did. The shadows faded away and there sat a young Bruce Wayne. Damn, he looked serious even then. And…oh God, why was her heart starting to pound?! She wasn't a teenager crushing on the guy anymore!

So why did she feel like she was still crushing on him?

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Bruce said then, polite as always. His voice wasn't as deep as it was as his Batman voice, but it was definitely deeper than that high-octave one he used as his playboy persona.

"Any time, John," her father responded warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving the troupe."

There was a moment of silence. Her father didn't look the least bit surprised by this though. "I see. May I ask for your reason?"

There was a momentary panic on Bruce's face. "There's nothing wrong, I assure you, but I felt it was time for me to move on. You've taught me so much, and I'll be forever grateful for that."

"But you feel as if you've learned everything you can?" her father suggested gently.

"I'm certain there is more I could learn, but that would put me on a path to staying with the troupe, and I have other goals I want to accomplish."

"Goals are all well and good, John, so long as they are good ones." Her father leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands together as he rested them on the desk. "Are your goals good ones? Are they worthy of you?"

That caused Bruce to blink his eyes. "Worthy of me?"

"You're a fine young man, John, and I would hate to see you spend your life on small endeavors. You weren't meant to spend your days in a small corner of the world, I feel. On the other hand, perhaps you have self-destructive goals, and it would sadden me to learn you destroyed yourself trying to accomplish them."

"I want to assure you, Mr. Zatara, I only have good intentions," Bruce was quick to reassure.

"So do most people. Would you indulge me for a moment, John?"

"Certainly, Mr. Zatara."

"You are a bright young man, full of promise. I could see that during your training. You've picked up many things quicker than even I had anticipated. You could make quite a mark as a magician should you choose to. In fact, I would love to have you continue on with the troupe in such a capacity."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Zatara."

"You're welcome. Know I don't say that lightly."

"I completely understand that. But…there are things I need to do. As much as I would love to stay here with you and your troupe, I don't think I could. I can feel it calling to me, and it's stronger than ever."

Her father looked on knowingly. A sad smile graced his lips. "And that's your decision?" he asked, if only to get confirmation.

Bruce nodded. "It is."

"Very well. I cannot say I'm not disappointed by your choice, but you are a young man with his whole life before him. I can't expect you to want to stay with the troupe forever."

"Thank you for understanding, Mr. Zatara," Bruce thanked, a look of actual regret on his face.

Her father waved off the comment. "It has been a most unexpected pleasure, John. I wish I knew more people like you." A small smile began growing on his face. "I do admit though, I did think your tenaciousness was wrongly placed."

"I get that alot."

The two of them chuckled with each other, each clearly amused with the other.

"Since you do intend on leaving, may I ask of you a favor?" her father suddenly asked.

Bruce nodded again. "Of course."

A look appeared on her father's face, one that made him look far older than he was. It was as if there was this great weight on his shoulders, something Zatanna had never seen before. Her father had always maintained this appearance of confidence, so it was concerning to see him looking so worn down. More upsetting was that he let Bruce of all people see this moment and not her.

"As much as it pains me, I will not be around forever," he began. "That is the natural order of things, of course, but there is still much I wish and need to do. It would help me greatly if you were to do a small thing for me."

"I'll do my best."

"I need you to promise me, should anything happen to me, that you'll keep an eye on my daughter." Bruce's face dropped at this, which caused her father to quickly reassure him, "I understand that you may be busy and I do not wish to inconvenience you, but it would ease my mind if I knew someone I could trust would make sure my daughter was looked after. I'm not saying you need to involve yourself in her life, but to occasionally make sure she is well. That's all I ask."

And now she knew why her father had shown Bruce such a moment of weakness. Of course, it had to be about her. So this was how it all happened, that promise between these two men.

For a moment, Bruce didn't look as if he knew how to answer. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but then he seemed to find his resolve. "You have my word, Mr. Zatara."

Her father smiled at him. "I cannot express my thanks enough, John. Though I do believe we are past such formalities. Please, call me John, Bruce."

Zatanna found herself snapping her head to gape at her father. He knew? This entire time, and he knew?! How?! When?! Why didn't he freaking say anything?! Why did she have to find out years after the fact?! Goddamn, she was pissed!

"How did…" Bruce trailed off.

"Like you, there is more to me than meets the eye," her father said, a knowing look in his eyes. "Do not worry, I have not revealed my knowledge to anyone and shall continue to do so."

The younger man didn't look completely convinced, but he nodded in response. "Thank you. Is there anything else?"

"I believe we are done here. Oh, and if you would be so kind to hang around for the San Francisco show, I would appreciate that. That one is shaping to be a big one."

"I think I can do that."

Her father nodded before waving him off. "Be well, John."

Taking that as his cue, Bruce stood up from his seat, turned, and left the office. Her father just watched him go, bemused. He then shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of some unknown joke or thought.

But then he looked right at Zatanna again. "So, what can I do for you, Zana?"

Immediately, Zatanna jerked herself back, which caused her to be thrown out of the memory. Gone was the brown tint and office, replaced with the dressing room around her. The dark-haired woman was panting, feeling drained in more ways than one.

"So, how was it?" Constantine asked her.

She didn't immediately answer him, instead standing up. The symbol she had been powering up was no longer glowing, instead looking up dully at her from the floor. She stepped over it, staring at her top hat, oblivious to anything around her.

Alright, so that had definitely been a memory. She could certainly confirm that. She had known Bruce and her father had talked to each other concerning looking after her, something she knew Bruce had done. To see the actual conversation only solidified that.

However, this was the third time someone in these memories had actually interacted with her. First had been Enchantress; the second, Xanadu; and now her father. How was that even possible? These were things that allegedly already happened, so there shouldn't be any interaction, at least one would think. She could explain the one with Enchantress because it had been a designed trap. One could argue it was a corrupted memory, one meddled with to pull off the surprise attack it had become.

But Xanadu had reacted as if she had detected her in her memory, and now her father had done the same thing, even addressing her.

So how was that a thing?

"You okay?" Constantine asked her, drawing her attention back.

"No, not really." She stopped her walking and turned to face him. "Can memories interact with you?" she asked him.

The blond man raised an eyebrow. "No, that's impossible. Memories have already happened, so there's no way they can suddenly change."

"Unless you corrupt them into a trap," the magician pointed out.

"Well, yeah, true enough. What happened this time?"

Zatanna held up her hat. "I got this from my father when he passed the troupe down to me. So when I did that memory spell, I got to see one of his memories and at the end, he suddenly looked right at me and spoke to me."

Constantine stared at her before he just nodded. "Ah, then that might be different."

"Different how?" she pressed.

"Your dad, from what I hear, was an accomplished sorcerer. Chances are that he sensed your presence at that moment in time, so you still saw his memory, but that memory contained him speaking with you."

"So wait, he knew I would be…well, what I am now?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. Foresight is a thing, ya know."

"So why didn't he instruct me?!" Yeah, she was mad again, bristling at this newfound knowledge. All of this time, she could have been a sorceress; she could have done so much more good than she had!

"You know the answer to that better than I do," Constantine responded. "Why wouldn't your dad teach you?"

Zatanna growled. "Because he was always trying to freakin' protect me, like I'm some damsel in distress. I'm not some helpless child!"

"I'm willin' to bet you were to him. You could become a veritable god and he probably would still see you the same way."

"I wish that he wouldn't! Or hadn't!"

Constantine shrugged his shoulders. "Well, not like you can go back in time and change that."

Zatanna paused before giving him a look. Apparently, he read exactly what she was thinking, which caused him to scowl. "No, do not use magic to go back in time and change it."

"Then what's the point in knowing magic if I can't do that?"

"Because you'll probably destroy everything. Not even the best mages and sorcerers mess with time. It's the one constant in our world and if you mess with that, fucked doesn't begin to describe what happens."

Zatanna just crossed her arms over her chest and turned away. She was getting tired of this. Why was it every man in her life tried to protect her? She wasn't some glass figurine! She had power now! She could literally violate the laws of physics if she wanted! If that didn't say she was powerful, then she didn't know what did!

The blond man then moved through the room, heading right for the sword. "I think we've had enough lessons for now," he said. "I'll be heading out. You go get some rest."

"Oh no, you don't." Zatanna marched right up to the guy. "I'm going with you whether you like it or not. Do I need to remind you of what I said about this?"

Constantine, damn him, just shrugged his shoulders. "Can't blame a guy for tryin'."

Asshole.

"You have done well," Rajir praised as he was handed the mirror, admiring his reflection in its glass, the silver frame gleaming in the light.

Johnathan looked proud at the praise, his chest puffing out. He was simple to please. "It wasn't all that difficult, Sir. It was literally right out in the open."

"The best hiding spots usually are," Rajir murmured as he continued to examine the mirror. When he looked at the back side of it, he noticed pieces of wood stuck to it. He only raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Some things were best left unsaid and some mysteries did not need an answer. "I did not expect you to retrieve the mirror so quickly. There are still some things I need to see to in preparation."

"Is there some other task I can perform?" the boy quickly asked. His eagerness was very noticeable.

"At this time, no," the older man told him, much to the youth's disappointment. His face had fallen into dejection upon hearing the refusal. "Perhaps that is best, however. Go take some time for yourself. Rest. I will summon you when it is time."

"I can still be of some assistance if you let me," Johnathan pressed, clearly not liking that suggestion.

"It is one thing for you to find this mirror, which is a great asset. However, there are other…pieces that you do not possess the current skill to obtain. You have done much of the heavy lifting thus far, but it is time you learn that there are certain tasks that must be delegated to others. Now, leave this place and do not return until I call for you."

Though his words had begun as kind and understanding, by the end of his lecture they had become quite stern. Enthusiasm he could handle, but he would not tolerate insubordination. Where he came from, such behavior was severely reprimanded. This child was lucky they were not at the beck and call of his former master. It was not uncommon for those who spoke out of turn to have their tongues removed as punishment.

How he wished he could do the same here.

"Fine, I will do as you say," Johnathan grumbled. With great reluctance, he turned and left the room they were in.

At last. Rajir then carried the mirror to another room, closing and locking the door behind him. He lit a nearby candle, which was the only illumination in the room. The glow from the small flame revealed walls that were covered in pale symbols. If it weren't from the sheen of the thin, pale paint, they would have gone unnoticed.

Setting the mirror gently on a cushion, one that was meant for sitting on, Rajir then faced one of the symbols on the rightmost wall. Holding a hand up, he extended his second and third fingers straight up, his first, fourth, and fifth fingers curling into his palm. He murmured a familiar incantation, reciting it over and over.

It took a moment before the symbol he faced began to glow. It was slow, but its light grew brighter and brighter until it was the brightest light source in the room.

"You called, Rajir?" a voice reached out to him.

"I have, Master," Rajir immediately answered. "I have in my possession the silver mirror of Martha Carrier."

"My, aren't you industrious. I thought it might actually take you a little longer."

"I apologize for intruding upon you, but I wished to review the other necessary objects needed for the lunar summoning."

"The full moon is approaching, isn't it? Thank you for the reminder. The mirror should more than suffice, but it doesn't offer much protection from the forces you'll be dealing with. I wouldn't want one of my servants to meet an unfortunate end this way, so come to me. I will show you the correct precautions to take for the ritual."

"You are most kind, Master."

"I like to think I am kind. I await your arrival then."

The light from the symbol began to dim then until it was no longer glowing. The connection was no longer active. Rajir lowered his hand to his side, just staring at the symbol for a moment or so before he turned away.

The invitation was unexpected, but he was grateful for it. While he knew they were performing a summoning ritual, he was not familiar with the details, which was something inadvisable when one was dealing with spirits and apparitions. Nasty ones had a tendency to take advantage of those with limited knowledge.

It was a good thing he had sent Johnathan home then. He was not ready to meet their master nor was he worthy either. He could only imagine the sulking the youth would do were he to be excluded from meeting their master. Already Rajir felt annoyance at just imagining it.

For the time being, he needed to secure the mirror, make sure it was hidden where only he could find it, then he would take a trip into Boston. Tonight would be more preferable so that he had time to practice what he was about to learn. After all, he had someone looking up to him as if he were all-knowing. He did not need to discourage that appearance.