Of all of the places Constantine could have led her, Zatanna wasn't expecting a nightclub in Boston.
And a rather popular one at that.
There were lights, there were bouncers, there was a velvet rope with a line stretching around the building. It was hip, it was happening. And Constantine and her strolled up next to the line until they reached the bouncers.
There were three of them, and each one looked as if they were descendants of gorillas. They were big, they were bulky, and there didn't seem to be any necks as their shoulders just stopped and their heads began. The tight t-shirts they wore looked as if they would tear if either of them so much as flexed.
Now, Zatanna enjoyed looking at muscle, but she found she wasn't too entice by these. They just…didn't do it for her.
"Zeke, Elliot, Bob," Constantine greeted them as they reached the front of the line.
"Constantine," Zeke, Elliot, or Bob responded, giving him a once over. "What brings you here?"
"Just have to speak with the boss is all. He's expecting me."
Zeke, Elliot, or Bob raised up a clipboard, no doubt checking to see if John was on the list. "Your name ain't on the list," they confirmed.
"Call 'em up then. We can wait," the blond man shrugged.
The three shared a look with each other before one of them pulled out a phone and made the call. They waited a few moments, even after the call was accepted and Zeke, Elliot, or Bob confirmed with their boss.
Then the call ended. "You can go in, ZIP section," Zeke, Elliot, or Bob told them.
"That's bullshit!" someone at the head of the line shouted, which caused a few other people to grumble. "We've been here over an hour!"
"Boss makes the rules," Zeke, Elliot, or Bob retorted. "You don't like it, go somewhere else."
That wasn't a bluff, so the line waiters just quieted down. Constantine just went for the door, Zatanna hot on his heels.
"Enjoy your night at Club Night," Zeke, Elliot, or Bob called out after them.
Immediately, Zatanna was hit with the deep bass of a pulsing dance song. Night lights were the only source of light, which made the party goers look dark, but certain clothing colors painfully bright. For Zatanna, the white blouse she wore was painfully bright. Constantine just looked like a shade moving through the throngs of people, some of whom were dancing with glow sticks, others carrying drinks to their tables. Zatanna just looked around as she followed her guide. He seemed to know where he was going.
They went for the back of the club, where there were a couple more gorilla guys standing next to a curtain. They didn't say anything as the two sorcerers approached them, one of them pushing the curtain aside to reveal a doorway behind it. "You're expected!" one of them shouted over the song.
Constantine just waved at them before passing through the doorway, Zatanna trailing behind him. Immediately, once passing through the threshold, the music became distant, even dull sounding. The dark-haired woman actually stopped walking and turned her head, seeing the frenetic club, yet not hearing the usual sounds.
"There's a spell to quiet the club," Constantine explained, not too far away. Clearly, he noticed her lagging behind.
"I guess I should have expected that," she responded before turning back and catching up with him. Well, they didn't actually have far to go as there was this large space formed from three alcoves. Each alcove had a round table with a couch surrounding it. Two of these tables were empty, the middle table actually being occupied.
Already, Zatanna was getting the creeps.
There was a single man seated at the table, his back to the wall, allowing him to face whomever entered this room. He was in a dark suit, which damn near blended in with his dark, almost blue skin. His dark hair had been combed back and hair gel helped keep it that way.
However, his face looked as if someone had tried to pull the skin back. It was a really bad face lift if Zatanna had ever seen one. Hell, he looked as if he had a perpetual smile because of this. And his eyes, they practically glowed red. He was looking at the two, looking very happy to see them.
Suddenly, the magician felt that perhaps she should have listened to Constantine on this one. She was getting a real bad feeling from this guy.
"John, it pleases me to see you," the man greeted them, not even standing up from manners. "I was wondering when I would see you again."
"Peck," Constantine returned the greeting, not looking the least bit put out. "I see you've changed locations."
"I saw an opportunity for expansion, so I took it. San Francisco was becoming quite crowded."
That was when the man turned his red eyes onto Zatanna, and her skin practically crawled from the attention. "And who is this ravishing young lady at your side?" His tone was pleasant, not the least bit creepy at all, yet she felt as if bugs were crawling all over her.
"This is Zatanna Zatara," Constantine introduced before he glanced to her. "Zee, this is Eldon Peck, club owner as you might've guessed."
"Please, I'm not that formal," Peck responded, gesturing with a hand as if to wave off the introduction. "Please, call me Brother Night."
"Well, if you insist," Zatanna shrugged. No way was she going to let this guy know how uncomfortable she felt.
"I believe that I will." Brother Night continued to focus on her. "Zatara, you said?" he asked, seeking confirmation. Neither one of them responded. "As in John Zatara?"
"That's right," Zatanna confirmed. "Let me guess, you knew him?"
"I did. I cannot say that we were friends, but we were always cordial."
Well, at the very least Zatanna was getting used to everyone telling her that they knew her father. He seemed to have been this big presence in the Homo magi community, so much so that it was better to assume that everyone knew him rather than not.
Brother Night then returned his attention to Constantine. "So, what brings you to my humble abode? It is not often you come to me for pleasure."
"Business," the blond man grunted. "Two pieces to be precise."
"Two pieces of business then. Do go on."
"I'm certain you've heard of what has happened up the road in Salem," Constantine began. At this, Zatanna paid close attention. She wanted to make certain she didn't miss anything. "Thirteen kids got sliced and diced in some sort of ritual."
"I had heard something about that," Brother Night acknowledged. Then he added with eagerness, "Tell me the details—all of them."
"Throats were slashed, multiple stab wounds to the torsos, and they were all laid in a circle, feet to the center," the blond man described the scene.
The club owner tilted his head back, eyes closed as he took in a deep breath. Was…was it just her, or did this guy look like he was reveling in hearing the description. God, that was just so many levels of ick. She was even more disgusted when she actually saw the guy begin licking his lips with a rather gross-looking tongue, moaning as he did so.
"How delicious," he moaned, all but confirming that he was getting off on this. What a sick bastard.
"Before you blow a load in your pants, mind telling us what you know about it?" Constantine interjected then, still as unflappable as ever. Was this normal behavior out of this guy? "I rather not see ya make the mess."
"Pardon me," Brother Night quickly recovered, lowering his head back down. "It has been quite some time since I've heard of such a ritual before. It must have been quite the massacre."
"It certainly wasn't roses and rainbows. Now tell us what kind of ritual requires that many bodies and that much blood."
There was a bemused look on the man's face. "Well, this goes beyond simple blood magic. A ritual that requires that much blood usually means there's a summoning at hand. The more bodies, the more powerful the being that is summoned. I can safely say that it was a failure."
A failure? Anger erupted within Zatanna. "How can you say it was a failure?" she demanded as she took a threatening step towards the table. Only Constantine's hand stopped her as he grabbed her by the shoulder. "Thirteen children were killed, and you're saying they died for nothing?!"
Brother Night's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned even louder than the first. Dear God, was this his O-face? Talk about nightmares, ugh. He recovered himself quickly, however. "Yes, it was a failure," he confirmed once he was in control of himself. "Though the sacrifices were children are intriguing."
"Why does that change anything? And why was the ritual a failure?" the dark-haired woman pressed.
"Children are usually used for specific rituals, namely a deity or demon that craves for the blood of children, or even their souls," Brother Night explained. "While using one or two in a normal ritual isn't unheard of, that all of the sacrifices were children means that whoever committed the ritual was wanting to summon a child deity. The number of sacrifices is also relevant in that the more that are sacrificed, the more powerful the deity. The reason why it was a failure is that if such a power was successfully summoned, the world would be much different than it is now."
"He means the summoned demon would be so powerful that it would be changing the environment around us," Constantine added, further explaining what the club owner was saying.
"Precisely," Brother Night agreed.
Zatanna turned her attention to stare at the blond man. "So you're telling me all of those kids were murdered…for nothing?"
Constantine grimaced, but answered, "Unfortunately, yeah. It was the best case scenario for the rest of us though. I don't know if you've encountered a demon, but they are nasty beasties. I wouldn't want to have to fight one on the regular."
There was a flash of memory in Zatanna's mind. She was back in the Bat Worshiper's hideout, her father's corpse twisted and corrupted by Raum, the creature that had been summoned. That had been nearly more than she could handle, especially as she was just beginning to learn magic. To hear someone as experienced as Constantine speak of his reservations meant that she had been in more danger than she had thought. She wasn't certain how to feel about that.
"I understand your reservations, Ms. Zatara, but out of all of the possibilities that could happen, the best one happened," Brother Night assured her.
"That doesn't make me feel any better," she growled.
"It's safe to say you don't know much about it," Constantine then said, attempting to return the conversation back to its original purpose.
"Afraid not," the man shrugged his shoulders. "I can look into it if you wish."
"Don't go out of your way," the blond man responded. "I wouldn't want to owe you another favor."
Zatanna did her best not to react to that. Another favor indicated there was a previous one, and she got the feeling she didn't like the idea of her boyfriend owing this creepy guy anything.
"Which brings me to our second piece of business." At this, Constantine reached inside of his coat and pulled out the Black Sword of Mordred, laying it on the table before Brother Night.
Zatanna couldn't help but gawk. That sword, with the history she had been told about it, and Constantine was just giving it away? What the hell was that about? In fact, what the actual hell was going on here?!
That same amused look was on Brother Night's face as he stared at the sheathed sword. "Still trying to buy your soul back, I see," he said.
And that made Zatanna go cold all over, though no more than in her guts. It felt as if there were a lead weight there, sinking further and further down into her.
There wasn't a lot of ambiguity here. Buying back a soul clearly meant that Constantine had sold it and it was clear he had sold it to Brother Night. Enchanted artifacts seemed to be the currency in the magick community, so this explained why Constantine had suddenly appeared with the sword. She wasn't certain where he found it, but he had clearly picked it up for this meeting.
The dark-haired woman suddenly felt as if she knew why the British man was trying to come here alone. He didn't want her to know about this.
Constantine grabbed onto the hilt of the sword with one hand and the sheath with the other, pulling them apart to reveal the black blade within the sheath. "I believe you know what this is," he simply said.
Brother Night did. In fact, he nearly stood up as he leaned forward, staring intently at the sword. "Is that…what I think it is?" he slowly questioned.
"The one and the same, right out of Cain's own collection."
"So Cain had it all of this time? That crafty bastard."
"And it's yours for the taking, so long as you return to me what's mine."
Brother Night glanced up at him. He was clearly thinking the offer over. "You make an enticing offer," he slowly responded. "I don't know if this sword is full compensation for your soul, however."
"I'm willing to wager that it's worth a lot more than just little ol' me," Constantine retorted. "It's one soul for a fabled blade. If you don't want it, I'm certain there are plenty of people at the Oblivion Bar that would kill to have it."
"Now, now, let's not be too hasty," Brother Night was quick to say. He was standing now, leaning over the table so that he could reach out and grab Constantine by the wrist, ensuring that he couldn't take the sword away quickly. He looked up at the blond man, trying to gauge him. Blue eyes met red ones coolly, explicitly to take it or leave it.
"Very well, I accept your offer," Brother Night finally relented. He then straightened up to his full height, which was actually an inch or two taller than Constantine. He adjusted his suit, his red tie sticking out against the dark cloth. There was a little skull pin in the tie's knot, one so small that it almost didn't draw any attention.
"Simultaneous exchange," Constantine stated, holding up the sword, but keeping it out of the other man's grabbing distance. It was clear he didn't trust the man.
"Simultaneous exchange," he agreed. He then held up his hand and a simmering light formed above his palm. A moment later and a rolled up parchment appeared, settling into his hand.
The two then held out their offering while reaching out with their free hand to take what was being offered. It ended with Constantine holding the parchment and Brother Night with the sword. "Finish it," Constantine pressed.
"I, Eldon Peck, do hereby renounce ownership and claim to the soul of the mortal John Constantine," Brother Night recited. "May his rotten soul remain with its vessel until the end of time." He then raised a hand up and snapped his fingers.
Immediately, the parchment erupted into blue flames. Constantine didn't flinch as he held the burning document, watching it be consumed by the fire until it all vanished into thin air.
"Wait, wait, what the hell just happened?!" Zatanna exclaimed, looking back and forth between the two men. "Why did that scroll burn? Is this some sort of double cross or something?"
"That's normal," John told her. "The scroll was just the physical form of our agreement and with its destruction, it no longer holds sway."
Zatanna stared at him. She was normally an open book when it came to showing her emotions, if not outright speaking her mind. Yet, the way Constantine spoke about what had just happened, it was as if he was very familiar with the process, as if he had done it before.
It made her wonder just how many times he had done this.
"Now that our business is concluded, if you would not mind leaving," Brother Night then said as he held up the sword, partially pulling it out of its sheath to admire it. "I have a sword that I would like to become better acquainted with."
"Enjoy," Constantine said before he turned and left, though not before grabbing onto Zatanna's elbow and practically dragging her with him. They reentered the main club room and were damn near blasted with the music again. Neither one of them said anything as they wormed their way through the crowd of club goers.
Eventually, they reached the front door, which opened just as they reached it. A bald man with facial hair around his mouth appeared, immediately stepping to one side so as not to run into them. "Many apologies," he told them.
"Don't sweat it," Constantine told him and the two exited he club. They just kept walking, though Zatanna was quick to pull her arm out of the blond man's grasp.
Everything that had just happened had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yeah, she knew there were shady parts with magick, but when wasn't there something shady with just about everything that involved life? It just, it happened right in front of her face.
And she honestly had to say that she didn't like it.
Rajir did not like the atmosphere. There were people here that debased themselves with debauchery and perversity. Today's youth danced like whores, writhing and grinding their bodies against each other. Their lack of modesty was absolutely disgusting.
He had bumped into one such woman, who wore some odd costume with tall boots, revealing stockings, and a hat. Though she was more dressed than some of the others here, some of which were exposing their undergarments in the black lights.
The bald man pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the back, one of two guards pulling open a curtain for him to pass through. Immediately, he straightened his posture as he saw his new master.
"Rajir, welcome," Brother Night greeted him, a sword resting on the table in front of him. The servant walked up to the table, but remained standing. He felt the urge to prostrate himself, but that was not a required act here. It was still a sign of respect that he found missing. "It pleases me to see you here. Please, have a seat."
"You are too kind, Master," Rajir murmured, but he took a seat in the little alcove. "You wished to inform me of the proper precautions, yes?"
"Yes, I did," Brother Night said, though he seemed to be distracted in his thoughts. "It is a simple encantation, though you must wait until the proper time to begin."
"And which time is that?" he immediately inquired.
"The witching hour, of course. The barrier between this world and the next is at its weakest then, allowing for the greatest access to the beyond. You'll need protection, of course, since some of those that reside there aren't the nicest of creatures."
"The usual precautions will not suffice?"
"Marginally." Brother Night then picked up the sword and held it out to him. "I have just recently come into possession of this weapon, but I believe you'll have more use of it than I. Your skills in that arena are admittingly superior to mine."
"You give me a handsome gift, Master," Rajir responded, accepting the sword. He held the hilt in one hand and the sheath in the other so that he could partially unsheath the weapon. He was greeted with a black blade, a number of rune symbols at its base. He was unfamiliar with the symbols, but he felt there was some significance behind them. "What is this blade's name?" he couldn't help but ask.
"It is the Black Sword of Mordred," his Master informed him, placing an elbow on the table, his fist pressing into the side of his face as if to prop it up. There was an amused smile on his face. "Its craftsmanship is beyond reproach, as well as its mystical properties. A fitting gift from a mother to her son, and now I bestow it unto you."
"I assume there are some uses for it against the supernatural," the bald servant murmured.
"Quite right. The blade has been lost for quite some time, I'm afraid, clearly only resurfacing now. That means its capabilities are unknown, but I have faith you will discover what it can do."
"Your faith is reward enough. I will look into the matter personally."
Brother Night hummed, but then his red eyes sharpened. "That is not all that you've come here for, is it?"
"No, it is not." Rajir then reached beneath the table to a small satchel tied to his belt. He opened it and reached a hand inside, pulling out a small wooden toy boat, one befitting a child's toy rather than one for an adult. He then set it on the table, pushing it towards his Master.
Red eyes focused on the boat and he licked his lips greedily. "Thirteen souls, as agreed?" he questioned.
"That is correct. My student was able to accomplish this task with minimal effort while I collected the souls," Rajir assured him. "All of whom are children, as per the request."
"My client will be quite thrilled," Brother Night spoke. "And you will be informing him upon your contact. I will keep these little souls safe here until the appropriate time."
Rajir stared. "Are you allowing me to make contact with the client? I thought you preferred to conduct such matters personally."
"I do, but I feel as if I can extend such duties to those that impress me, and you have impressed me." Brother Night leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming. "Conduct yourself well, and your rewards will be far beyond your own imagination. A word to the wise, though: do not tell the client just how many souls we have collected. These beings are notoriously greedy and do not understand the concept of a finder's fee. Tell them you have collected ten souls, which should more than suffice."
"I thank you for your council," Rajir said, bowing his head in thanks.
"There is one other matter that I am behooved to inform you of."
His Master adjusted himself in his seat, a serious look appearing on his face. Gone was the wide smile that had been gracing it thus far. "There are a couple of inquisitive fellows looking into your little murder scene. A man and a woman, one of whom is an adept in the mystic arts. Walk with caution."
Rajir straightened his posture in his seat. Someone was looking into the ritual? It could only be a cursory curiosity, nothing more. There was nothing to link himself or Johnathan to the scene, he had made certain of that. Perhaps leaving the bodies as they had was a mistake, but he had figured the local authorities would view it as one of those Satanic cult rituals. That someone would come here and speak to his Master about it was alarming.
"They did not think you were involved, did they?" he couldn't help but ask.
"No, they did not. They were merely seeking information and thought I would know something of it. Not to worry, I did nothing to reveal your involvement, but I do feel that you should take steps in the event they become too nosy."
"Then those steps will be taken," Rajir assured him. "And this blade will be the tool that leads to their downfall."
Zatanna felt herself being emotional. After witnessing what went down at Club Night, she wasn't entirely certain how to feel. Stunned was her initial feeling, but now she was feeling a touch of anger, a lot of bewilderment, and honestly she was just flat out appalled.
Even a non-magic user, which she was growing up, knew of the stories of making deals with devils and demons. They weren't exactly stories that ended well. So now she came across a guy that had literally just treated his soul like a baseball card with one such creature—mostly because she had no idea what exactly Brother Night was—and he acted as if it were perfectly natural.
Yeah, that was a lot to take in.
The dark-haired woman had spent quite a bit of time with this tall, dark, and mysterious British guy, because let's face it, accents did get a girl's engine purring and every girl had that one accent that did it for her. Hers turned out to be British apparently. She had rather enjoyed her time with Constantine, despite all the negative press she had been told about him.
Zatanna sighed. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she should have listened more instead of just diving headfirst in. Don't tell Xanadu she had those thoughts; she couldn't bear the gloating that would certainly follow.
So after experiencing…well, that at Club Night, the magician had separated herself from Constantine and went to try and get her thoughts put together. She knew she needed to talk to him about this soul selling stuff, but doing so in the heat of the moment didn't really work out for her. It was best to get herself calm and rational and then hammer the guy with how absolutely insane it was to sell your soul! And for what exactly?!
Yeah, see why she was on her own now?
So what better way to get her head back on her shoulders right than to actually investigate a mystery? That was the Gotham way and it worked for the guy that patrolled the streets there. Why shouldn't it work in Boston? Or Salem rather?
It was past midnight now, and the moon was nearly full. That gave her plenty of moonlight to do her job here, that being the crime scene with all the dead bodies. The area was still cordoned off with police tape, but there was only a single police car nearby keeping an eye on it. An invisibility spell made certain she wasn't seen.
The ground was still stained by the blood, which made Zatanna grimace. Thirteen kids, all of whom must have been absolutely terrified. She wasn't a kid person by any means, but damn, this one was messing with her badly. There was just something wrong about thirteen kids getting killed. That wasn't to say this wouldn't be messed up if it were thirteen adults, but there was just something more heartbreaking about children getting caught up in something like this.
The blood spots were mainly centered where the body outlines had been made by the police. It made the scene look like some strange flower with the way the bodies had been positioned. There were a few little placards present as well, no doubt identifying areas of interest, most likely a shoe print or an odd spatter of blood that didn't match with the larger blood spots.
Zatanna didn't pay much mind to that. No, she wasn't going to spend time going over the crime scene; that was for the detectives. She was planning on taking a different avenue here, something she had learned literally earlier in the evening.
Now, it felt wrong to attempt to draw that symbol circle that Constantine had shown her on an active crime scene. She had it pounded into her head not to ever contaminate a crime scene in that manner. Not to mention she didn't need some fresh police eyes coming in the morning and suddenly noticing the symbol and start taking the investigation off in the wrong direction.
So she had drawn that same circle and symbol on a piece of paper, as much of it as she could remember anyways. Taking a knee, she set the piece of paper on the ground and stared at it, hovering a hand over it.
"What the hell are you doing, Zee?" she couldn't help but mutter to herself before she let out a sigh. Yeah, couldn't you tell that she was having reservations about this? Still, she felt this would help her make some progress on finding out just who had done this horrible thing.
It was certainly worth a try.
"Just the murder, Zee," she murmured to herself as she began to psych herself up. "Just memories of the murder." Yeah, she was having to work out the right words in her head now. Just saying show her memories of the area would either show her some early morning jogger, or maybe an Indian on the hunt. None of those were what she was seeking and would be a waste of perfectly good magic.
"Wohs em eht seiromem fo eht redrum," she chanted. "Wohs em tahw deneppah owt syad oga!"
The circle began to glow much like it had in her dressing room, in fact it was even faster. She felt the pulling sensation, but not nearly as strong. She held her ground and soon the circle symbol was nothing more than a circle of light. From its perimeter a brown tint began to emerge, spreading out in all directions. It washed over Zatanna and the crime scene until it was all she could see.
The terrified screams she heard certainly got her attention, however.
Jerking her head up, she saw someone shrouded in a robe and hood. Oh great, it was one of these guys again, she couldn't help but grouse. The robe didn't look like the ones the Bat Worshipers wore, but then those robes looked as if they had been bought in bulk from a bargain store.
The robed man here had his hood over his head, allowing darkness to hide his face unfortunately. In one hand he held a bloody knife, one that was dripping fresh blood from it. His other hand held down a still body, one that was certainly a child. A pool of blood was spreading out around them.
"Congratulations," a voice called out, drawing the attention of Zatanna and the robed murderer. She spotted another robed guy, who was standing next to a group of children, all of whom were restrained with rope around their wrists and ankles. The children were shrieking, but for whatever reason their cries sounded mute in comparison to the crisp clear congratulations she had heard. "You have taken your first step. Now you must continue."
Oh great, so there were two of them. Lovely.
"Yes," a rather young voice responded. The murderer stood up and stalked towards the group of terrified children, all of whom were trying to squirm and crawl away from him. There didn't seem to be any preference for who he chose, probably just the one closest to him honestly, but the murderer grabbed a child by their ankle and dragged them over to the first body. The child's screams grew more shrill, begging to not be killed.
Once he got his victim where he wanted him, the killer dropped to one knee, using one hand to pin the child down as he held up his knife with the other. "Stop!" Zatanna couldn't help but cry out, holding a hand out at the killer.
Much to her surprise, he did.
In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, everything had stopped.
It was strange, really. It was like staring at a still frame. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. It was like putting a movie on pause. Zatanna blinked her eyes at this.
With her extended hand, she moved it to her left. In response, the killer began to lower his knife to his side, beginning to rise up to his feet. Moving her hand to the right, the killer resumed his killing pose, dropping the knife down until she stopped it midway through the swing. She moved her hand left to right and back over and over, which made her killer look as if he were stabbing the air over and over.
Huh, that was neat. Zatanna stood up onto her feet and walked over to the murderer. She took a knee next to him and tried to get a good look at his face. Unfortunately, she only saw darkness, though she was able to make out a mouth and chin, no facial stubble present. Well, darn, that wasn't the way to get an ID. Glancing up, she could see a similar problem with the second guy.
Reaching a hand up, she attempted to try and pull the hood back, but found her hand sinking into her prime suspect. She didn't feel anything even as her hand disappeared into the man's head. So she couldn't interact with this memory. Good to know.
Lowering her hand to her side, she began looking for something, anything that could give her a clue as to this man's identity. There were no identifying marks on his hands, though considering how bloody one of them was, something could have been hidden. The robe that was being worn was intact, so that was a bust too.
She did see he was wearing sneakers though. Nike. Hmm, she rather doubted that Nike had this in mind when they were promoting "Just Do it."
Standing back up, she went over to the second guy and did the same thing. This time she actually found something, that being a ring on the second man's right hand. It wasn't anything extravagant admittingly, just a metal band with a small skull head on it.
Zatanna frowned. She could have sworn she had seen a similar skull head, recently even. Now just where had she seen it?
Staring at the ring for some time, eventually she couldn't make heads or tails of it, so she tabled it for now. Next, she looked towards the kids and felt her heart shatter at their fear and terror. She had to do this though. Moving over to them, she began looking at their faces and their clothes, trying to find something identifying on them as well.
This gave her something to work with, fortunately. A couple of the kids were wearing Collins Middle School shirts, so she knew where they went to school. Perhaps she could find something there, perhaps even where they had been kidnapped. She could potentially find more clues there.
Standing up straight, Zatanna closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she cut off the flow of magical power into her spell, which immediately caused the brown tinted world around her to rush away from her. The empty crime scene reappeared before her eyes, the sounds of crickets chirping filling her ears once more. Gone were the kids and the killers, but she could practically see where they all stood during the grizzly massacre.
Alright, she needed to go pay a visit to this Collins Middle School, though perhaps not right now. She was looking for things that stood out, and doing it in the middle of the night wouldn't be conducive for that. It would also look weird if someone saw her, a famous magician, poking around a school in her stage outfit.
No, she needed to blend in.