Hello again, ShadowMajin here. Here is the latest spin-off story in my and Anonymous Void's series. We're back with Zatanna and I had a fun time writing her again. There's going to be plenty of little easter eggs in this chapter, so I hope some of you catch them.

Going forward, AV is going to be posting The Tides of Wrath on Mondays and Thursdays and I will be posting this story on Tuesdays and Fridays. That's seemed to work well for us in the past and we expect the same to happen this go around too.

Now, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy the story!

The room looked exactly as it did the last time he was here. Unmade bed on one side of the room, a desk with sheets of paper on top of it, a pen left discarded on top of them. It was a simple room for a simple man with a rather eccentric taste in hobbies.

Well, John Constantine figured that perhaps he should stop viewing this room as Cain's room, the former caretaker of the House of Mystery. He was dead and buried out back in the creepy cemetery the House kept for ambiance. He knew because he dug up the grave himself. Aside from the reason that Cain was dead, there was another one that made him rethink the room as not belonging to the previous owner.

After all, he was now the owner of the House of Mystery.

Sometimes John could surprise even himself. He had wound up in a collective headache of a hag-busting quest, and it had ended in this very house. The hag in question had gotten ahold of the House of Mystery and was using it essentially as a lure for unsuspecting victims. There was a little more to it than that—in fact, there was no telling how many people had fallen victim before he came along, something he didn't bother to think about—but why get into the more messy, complex details when it was over and done with, yeah?

Now though, John had a reason for returning. See, Cain was a collector of magical artifacts. It wasn't a stretch to say that most people in the magic business were collectors as well, but Cain was known for acquiring some rather unique pieces. One could be picky if they had lived for thousands of years. This wasn't the Oblivion Bar where anything and everything that hinted at an enchantment was readily acceptable.

Therein lay his current problem. One thing the Brit learned during his previous stay was that the House of Mystery tried to be more helpful than not. It had shown him where Cain's safe was—not its exact location, but it put him in the same room it was in. This time he had put in a similar simple request to locate Cain's collection of magical artifacts.

That request had landed him back in Cain's former room.

That wasn't all that surprising since he figured the collection would be kept with the safe. Perhaps it was here in this room, or maybe there was a hidden portal to a dimension where the collection was kept. That was entirely possible too.

Frankly though, he would have much preferred to be plopped right in front of the collection rather than have to do the guesswork. He was on a time crunch as it was and didn't have as many opportunities to search this place on his own.

So, he lumbered over to the closet door in the corner. Opening it, he saw the few scant possessions Cain had left inside and ignored them. "Show yourself," John grunted, activating a ward he had put in place on a previous excursion.

In response, the door to a safe appeared on the back wall. The sound of a lock undoing itself was heard and the door swung open. John peered into it, searching for the contents kept within. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't much. After all, this was where the deed to the House was usually kept.

There was a reason he was here though; the House bringing him here was proof of that. Was there a map? Was there indeed a hidden dimensional portal? Maybe there was a loose floorboard that led to a crawl space where everything was kept.

Fortunately, John Constantine had a few ways to figure that out.

Reaching a hand out, he rotated his wrist while closing his fingers towards his palm. This gesture allowed him to do a sleight-of-hand, a blink-and-you-missed-it moment. In this case, he was holding a piece of white chalk by the time he finished rotating his wrist. He started with drawing a circle around the safe door, followed by connecting lines and archaic symbols. He had done away with Cain's wards and booby traps the first time he had accessed the safe, naturally placing a couple of his own once he had the time. There was no reason to worry he would set something off unless there was an errant spell still lingering around. That was entirely possible since the House of Mystery had a hefty source of magical energy at its disposal.

After all, it was a supernatural house; it'd be weird if it didn't have something magical about it.

Once he was satisfied with his work, John lowered his hand and began to mumble out the incantation. It would have sounded like gibberish to a layman's ear, but part of that was his accent and his English tongue fumbling through a very dead language. That combination would make anything he said sound unintelligible.

Thankfully, magick wasn't that picky. The white chalk lines he had drawn began to glow with a blue light. He funneled his magical energies into it, making the light grow brighter and brighter.

"Alright, show me where Cain's collection is," he demanded of his spell.

The response was instant. The entire back wall began to shift away from him, drawing further and further back until it vanished into darkness. There was a sense of otherworldliness that came from the void before him, though John didn't look away. One didn't stare into an abyss and blinked, not when they had come this far.

His determination was rewarded too. Slowly, a mist began to flow out of the darkness, one that began to lighten up and dissolved the mist right then and there. In its place was an entirely different room, one that seemed to stretch forever and ever.

With a step, John entered the room and was immediately bombarded with the sense of incredible magicks. Alright, okay, it seemed he was on the right track here. Glancing around, he saw old shelves that stretched just as far as the room did, so he lost sight of where they ended. On the shelves, randomly placed, were items that he could sense were the sources of the various magicks he felt. They were old, ancient even. Some were tainted with demonic energies, others reeking of blood and despair.

"That's enough out of you," John remarked and raised a hand up, his piece of chalk no longer in his grasp. He snapped his fingers and the overwhelming sense of magick faded away. If left unchecked, some magicks had a way of festering, feeding on others until they were overbearing. One just had to put them in their place if you knew how to do it. "That's better, thanks."

Casually strolling down the room—or rather corridor since this room was long and thin, he eyed the various artifacts. There was enough room to stretch his arms without hitting both shelves at the same time, but not much else. He had to step around a rather large, ornament vase, one that looked as if it belonged in ancient China if he wasn't mistaken. John paused long enough to study the designs, noticing a story playing before his eyes.

Oh, this wasn't a vase; it was a vessel for a rather nasty djinn. Yep, he was skipping that one.

Careful not to bump into it, John continued his survey. He saw cups of every design, from lavish ornamentation to simple clay; jewels of every size shape, and color; there was even what looked like an ordinary stone, one with a familiar discoloration to it.

John stopped as he stared at the stone. It was a natural gray color, but the discoloration was a dark brown, one that looked aged. He knew the sight of aged blood when he saw it and that stone had clearly been used to kill someone.

It had been said that Cain had killed Abel with a stone. Was this the stone that had been used?

As fascinating as the speculation was, John felt that was something to explore at another time. Continuing on his search, he found a few sections where the shelves had been removed, only for large paintings to be placed there. A cursory search through his magical sight and John felt something contained within the pictures. A possessed painting? An enchanted one?

Moving along, he then came to an abrupt stop. There was another painting, but this one he didn't sense any sort of malevolence or mystical energies. In fact, it was the only thing not projecting power. Very strange, he felt. Why would such a thing like this be here?

Studying the painting, he soon realized why. The painting was of two men, one holding the other down. The one on top was holding up a rock, a look of rage on his face. The one on the bottom stared up in permanent terror.

Well, it seemed Cain had a soft spot for the depiction of his brother's murder. It had been said he made regular visits to Abel's residence and killed him. Clearly he liked the depiction of it in this painting and kept it in his collection. To each their own, John supposed.

Continuing on, he eventually reached some shelves that had various weapons on them. Most of them were swords, though there were some daggers and a rather cruel-looking axe. John felt drawn to the weapons. He could sense something of value here.

Picking up one such sword, it was dressed in its scabbard, one that looked as if it belonged in medieval times. Definitely an old Anglo-Saxon design, he observed. Holding the scabbard in one hand and the sword's hilt in the other, he drew them apart and saw the blade contained within was solid black.

Well, now this was interesting.

As much as he would have wanted to continue his inquiry, he began to feel something warm in his pocket. Sheathing the sword, he then held it in one hand as he reached the other into the pocket. He pulled out a pocket watch, flicking open the cover with practiced ease. "Tch," he grunted as he saw where the minute and hour hands were. He was officially out of time.

He needed to get back to his other obligation.

The applause was loud. Not deafening since this wasn't the end of the act, but definitely one full of appreciation for the incredible wonder they had seen.

Zatanna turned to face away from her adoring audience. She let out a couple of pants from fatigue—physical fatigue, not magical just so you know. She had been on stage for over an hour, slowly approaching the ninety-minute mark. The bright stage lights beamed down over her, making it a tad hot after so much exposure. She was actually sweating—scratch that, perspiring. Yeah, that was the word, even if they were basically the same thing. She wasn't drenched or anything, but she was starting to feel that gross feeling.

Good thing she was coming up to the finale.

Spinning back around, her show smile on her face, she then declared, "Our magical journey is about to come to an end. I know, I know, we've had some fun tonight, but all good things must come to an end! But before we get there, allow me to leave you with one last memory."

Her body began to hum with magical energies. She had been practicing this one for a while and felt confident tonight was the night to pull it off.

Holding a hand up, she then flicked her wrist and a playing card shot out of her sleeve. Considering the number of times she had shown the audience that she indeed did not have anything up them, this caused a little stir. Moving her other hand until it hovered over the card, she then proceeded to crumple it between her hands until it was a deformed ball. She then fed her power into her palms, feeling them warm up.

Then she dramatically unclasped her hands, a puff of smoke erupting between them, taking away the ruined playing card. The audience was silent as she continued. Turning to her left, she began to saunter towards the back of the stage, raising an arm up and holding it at shoulder length. Her palm touched something in midair, which to her captivated audience, they couldn't see as it was very thin, so thin that it couldn't be seen head on.

She then pushed hard against it, causing it to spin. Seemingly out of thin air, a large rectangle began spinning around in place, slowing down after several moments to reveal it was an enlarged version of the playing card she had casually destroyed. Some people gasped at its sudden appearance.

Yet, she wasn't done. Coming to stand next to the card, the two of hearts, Zatanna gave a cheeky smile before saying, "Would it be too on the nose to ask if this was your card?" This earned her some polite laughs. "Or maybe this was your card instead?"

Reaching to the edge of the card, she then pulled an equally enlarged one out from behind the two of hearts, this one being the four of spades. It came to hover next to the first card. "Or how about this one," she continued, pulling out another one, this a five of diamonds. Again, she pulled another, and another, a Jack of Hearts and a nine of clubs. All five cards hovered in the air, side by side.

"Hmm, I think I've ended up with one too many cards," she mused before she held a hand up, snapping her fingers. In response, the cards began to move, circling around her. Their speed picked up with each rotation until they were a solid blur. Then one by one, each one vanished behind one card until it was the only one left.

However, when it showed its face, no longer was the card a playing card, but one with the image of Zatanna herself on it. She was frozen there, a large smile on her face, arms held out to either side of her as a dove hovered over one hand, a wand in another.

And then Zatanna stepped right out of the card, holding her wand as the dove suddenly flew away above the audience's head. Like many times throughout the night, it too erupted into a cloud of smoke.

There was silence before the clapping began. It was louder this time, partly due to Zatanna taking a bow. Like in theater, when the actors take a bow, the show was usually over, and this earned a greater number of applauses, including whistles and cheers. When she straightened herself up, she waved at her adoring public before she took her leave, heading for off-stage.

The moment she was out of sight, she let out a sigh. Well, that had gone without a hitch. She was certain the skeptics in the crowd would be working day and night to figure out just how she pulled off that last trick.

Some people just couldn't accept that there was real magic in the world.

It was their jobs to poke holes in her act though, so she'd let them speculate. It would be really interesting to see what they could come up with. And hey, if something was plausible, she could do a whole thing where she followed their directions to see if it worked or not.

Heh, posting that on Youtube would be a riot.

Now, normally she loved performing. Putting a look of wonder on hundreds of people was intoxicating, at least at the beginning of a tour. However, she had been on the road for a few months now, doing three to four shows a week. A break was coming up and she was more than happy to be able to rest and recover.

Admittingly, when she had taken over her father's troupe, she had labored day and night, always invested, always a part of the grind. She had loved it. But even then, there were times where she would need a week to make certain she didn't burn out.

She found that she was taking these little breaks more often now than when she had when she was twenty.

Zatanna steadfastly refused to admit that she was getting old. No, she was young, fit, and up for anything! She just had a few more miles on the tires was all. Ugh, now she was sounding like one of those sports commentators talking about an aging athlete. She wasn't even a sports person at all, yet she knew that.

For that, she blamed her current boyfriend.

Yep, Zatanna Zatara, the envy of every showwoman, was off the market! She had a steady guy now!

Though of course this guy had a thing for watching soccer, or futbol as he claimed it was called. That's what she got for dating a British guy, she supposed.

Now, she knew what you were thinking: how did she, this awesome, beautiful, and incredible magician meet this soccer-loving British guy? Surely, she must have bumped into him after a show, or even more on the nose, in Britain! Reasonable suggestions, but you would all be wrong.

That's right, she met this guy while being harassed by a hag hellbent on sucking the life out of other people all to make her some super strong witch. Bet you weren't expecting that one, right?

So yeah, that was how they met, they had hit it off, and her boy toy had hit the road with her to begin a tour with the Zatara troupe. They were in Philadelphia, a long ways away from the west coast where they had started. Hmm, maybe that was another reason she felt tired; she'd been traveling all of this time.

Well, she felt she was due for some time in her dressing room, and that was where she was heading. Of course, it wasn't close enough for an interloper to catch up with her.

Or more to the point, stand in her way.

"You're going to have to tell me how you pulled that trick off," Jeff Sloane, her ever-loving manager told her. He had finally decided to catch up with modern times as he had a new haircut, and his glasses didn't look like they belonged in the 1980s. Nope, he had a thinner, modern frame now, and honestly it looked good on him.

"A magician never tells," Zatanna quipped as she walked up to the taller man. He still had his mustache, which looked out of place on his current look. He either needed to shave it off, or trim it because bleh!

"Considering you didn't use any mirrors or wires, I'm stumped as to how you pulled it off." His eyes narrowed. "This wasn't one of those magic things you've been talking about, is it?"

"What if it was?" the dark-haired woman shrugged her shoulders. "It went without a hitch and no one is running out of the theater with their hair on fire. I would call that a win-win."

"Have I told you just how weird it is to know you actually know real magic?"

"Plenty of times. I just keep it limited because I know I could blow everyone's mind and not in a good way." Zatanna gave a winsome smile. "Though once we're more certain about it, we can discuss incorporating more of it into the show."

"Just as long as you don't set anyone's hair on fire or blow their minds in a not good way, whatever works."

That gave her pause. Jeff was a pretty grounded guy. He liked routine; he liked stability. To have him accept something as strange and erratic as magic would be…new.

She didn't know whether she liked this new or not.

"Well, let me know about the night's receipts later. I need to crash," the magician responded before walking by her manager. Jane, her light technician guru came flying by, but it was clear she was in the middle of something due to her pace. She did offer a smile and a wave, but she was gone just as suddenly as she appeared.

Ignoring it, Zatanna eventually found her dressing room. Opening the door, she closed it behind her once she entered the room. She went right for a chair that was placed in front of a divan and collapsed right into it. As if that were some kind of cue, her full exhaustion hit her, her feet began to throb, and she felt as if she needed to take a week-long nap.

Which she would do later. First, she needed to change and take off all the stage makeup she wore. And then, maybe, she'd be ready to see her boyfriend. He should be here any minute since he was supposed to be in the audience.

Any minute now.

Well, he was late. In fact, he was so late he had missed the entire show.

Bloody Hell.

John was pretty certain his loss of time had something to do with the House of Mystery. It had a mind of its own and could play with its food, namely the poor saps that found it. In this case, it has messed with his timepiece, making him think he had more time than he had, or simply changing the watch's hands without him knowing.

That was his excuse anyways.

The audience was filling out, so he avoided that mess altogether. Instead, he made his way backstage, where a number of the crew were already hard at work with cleanup. They hardly paid him any mind aside from telling him to get out of their way.

Now, where was that dressing room? That's where Zee would have gone, or at least would be heading to. It would be the right place to meet up with her. As he sauntered around, John did spot a guy that was giving him the 'ol stink eye. That was Zee's manager, he faintly recalled. Guy didn't really like him, not that he could blame him. He walked with a sign that said TROUBLE wherever he went.

But, Zee was ultimately his boss, so he stayed in line. No doubt they had conversations about her entanglement with him, but she was a big girl with very small lady garments. John rather doubted the manager could pull off a thong like she could.

However, the blond man did see a different bloke that might be able to pull it off.

As John closed in on the dressing room, he spotted one thing that wasn't like the others. He stood out painfully, dressed dapperly in a fitted suit. Guy looked like he belonged on one of those rags, businessman of the year type stuff. He was slinging around this smile that was making some of the lady crewmembers swoon just by looking at 'em.

Though, he was carrying a small bouquet of flowers.

It didn't take the smartest bloke to figure out what Mr. Businessman was up to. He was dressed to the nines, holding a bunch of flowers, and he was backstage to a well-known entertainer. Someone was hoping to get lucky. Well, if it had been any other night, John would have been willing to bet this guy would have gotten lucky and more.

Tonight wasn't going to be his night, however.

John didn't pick up his pace. He just carried on, heading right for the dressing room door. He arrived there perhaps a step or two sooner than Mr. Businessman. The dark-haired man paused upon seeing him, a frown appearing on his face.

"Pleasant night we're havin'," John greeted him, raising a hand up and resting it on the doorknob.

"Yes, it is," the man replied, still frowning. His voice was perhaps an octave or two higher than John's, so cross off another box on the tall, dark, and handsome scale. His confusion was evident in his town. "Can I help you?"

"Not one bit, mate. I was just coming to pay tonight's star a visit," the blond man told him. "I suppose you had the same idea."

"That was the plan. I hadn't realized Zatanna had other plans."

"Well, you're more than welcome to join us," John shrugged his shoulders. "I'm game."

"And you are?"

"Name's John Constantine. You?"

"Just an old friend of Zatanna. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything, so…" Mr. Businessman trailed off before he held up the flowers. "Mind giving these to her?"

John didn't see why not, so he accepted them. They smelled nice, he supposed. Zee would like 'em enough.

Mr. Businessman then just nodded at him before he turned and left. Not seeing any reason to watch him go, John then turned the doorknob and opened the door. He stepped right into the dressing room, closing the door behind him.

"Well, you certainly took your time."

John looked bemused at Zee. She was a gorgeous girl, alright. She also had a ripe figure that her little magician costume didn't do much to hide. She was settled in a chair, one leg in fishnet stockings crossed over the other. Faintly, he mused that part of her audience wasn't only here for the magic. "Ever heard of being fashionably late?" he quipped back.

"I have, but that usually for parties, not for rendezvous backstage," she told him archly.

"I'm certain this would be an exception, after all, I got you these."

John held up the bouquet, to which Zatanna's face softened. She immediately walked over to him and received the flowers. "Aww, aren't you nice," she complimented him, her attention solely on the flowers. "I don't recall telling you these were my favorite."

John did his best not to react to that. In fact, she had not told him what her favorite flowers were. He hadn't asked either. Apparently Mr. Businessman knew, or had gotten really lucky in his selection. Considering he claimed to be an old friend…

"Well, I do like to investigate a little," he then said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Thought I would surprise you one day and today turned out to be that day."

A smirk appeared on her ruby lips. "I don't know whether to believe you or not, so I'll just give you the benefit of the doubt." She turned away from him and sauntered over to the divan, where there was an empty glass vase. She placed the bouquet in it.

"Always keep an empty vase handy?" he couldn't help but ask.

"You wouldn't believe the number of flowers I've gotten over the years. I always find it handy to have one ready at a moment's notice." She then spun around to face him, her hands resting on the swells of her hips. "So, what did you think of my show?"

"I can see why your audience loves ya," he was quick to answer. "I gotta say, you've gotten a bit adventurous since that first show in Phoenix."

"One must improve one's show if they're going to get better," she jokingly sniffed.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink," John then changed the subject. Yeah, he wasn't going to belabor something he missed entirely. That was one way to get in trouble, and he was no fool. "Can't stay up too long, though."

"Oh? And why can a Brit like you with a liver like yours not spend all night getting shitfaced?" she asked him archly.

"Got an errand I need to run in the morning. I can catch up with you in the next city you're going to."

"You wouldn't happen to know where that is, would you?"

John paused. He actually didn't. Oh, he was certain if he asked one of the crewmembers, he could get a name, but that didn't help him when he was put on the spot like this.

There was a teasing smile on the pretty lady's face though. "Just testing ya," she teased. "Boston is our next stop, though I fully intend on avoiding Salem. You know what they do to witches over there."

"You and me both, Zee," he muttered. "I think I'll take a double tonight, if ya don't mind. Whenever you're ready."

"You give me ten minutes and I'm yours for the night."

Yeah, that was what he was hoping to hear.

A couple notes: the painting of Cain and Abel is one I saw online when I was searching for inspiration. Most show Cain towering over Abel, holding up either a rock or club. I'm rather partial to the rock ones, so I went with that. Also, the playing card of Zatanna is based off of a fanart I saw as well, but I can't seem to find the bugger anywhere.

Also, I'm willing to bet most of you know who "Mr. Businessman" was. If anyone cared to know how Bruce found out about Constantine, well, here's your answer lol.