Tim laughed. “I like this kind of magic.” He popped the candy into his mouth.
Zatanna shrugged. “A girl has to earn a living. So I’m a stage magician. Besides, it’s a great way to keep my true identity hidden. By hiding in plain sight.”
Tim heard a car honk outside. Zatanna pulled aside the curtain and peered out. “The taxi is here,” she announced. She tapped her top hat and headed for the door. Tim and Yo-yo followed. Tim hesitated. Should I be wearing a costume? he wondered. As Yo-yo settled onto his shoulder, he decided that the bird could be his costume.
Zatanna smiled at him. “Even if John can’t be here, we can still have fun, can’t we?”
“Yeah! Sure we can,” Tim assured her. He didn’t want her to think he felt bad that John had left him with her. He really liked Zatanna.
“Good.” She opened the door and stepped out into the balmy night.
“Uh, listen,” Tim said. “If it’s a rude question, you can tell me to mind my own business. But you and John Constantine…are you, um…” He didn’t quite know how to ask.
Zatanna bailed him out. “Not anymore. Not really.” She sighed. “I don’t think he’s the type for any kind of permanent relationship. If you know what I mean.”
Tim nodded. “Yeah, he hasn’t struck me as a particularly permanent person, so far. More like…an adventurer.”
“Precisely. He’s too much of a risk-taker—a gambler.”
Her phrase startled Tim. That was exactly what Madame Xanadu’s cards had said.
Zatanna paused and turned to face her house. “Esuo H, tcetorp flesruoy!” she declared.
Huh? Tim stared at her. “What did you say?” he asked.
“I told the house to protect itself,” Zatanna explained. She tapped her top hat again and continued toward the taxi. “In case anyone tries to break in.”
“It sounded like you were talking backward.” Tim glanced back at the pink house. It didn’t look any different. Was there really a spell on it?
“It’s how I work the art. Verbally. I talk backward. It’s more a concentration aid than anything else. My father used to do it, and I suppose I got the idea from him.”
Tim remembered from Zatanna’s TV interview that her father had also been a famous illusionist. He assumed magic would be easier if you grew up with it, inherited it through your bloodlines. You’d be more used to it. Tim wished his father could show him the ropes, gradually, instead of one whammy after another from all these strangers. But there was no way his father would believe in magic—let alone practice or teach it.
Zatanna opened the back door of the cab. Yo-yo flew inside.
“Hey!” the driver exclaimed. “Is the bird coming too?”
“Of course,” Zatanna said, sliding into the cab. “It’s Halloween.”
The driver shook his head good-naturedly, as if he’d seen and heard it all before. “No problem. Happy Halloween.”
Tim scrambled in beside Zatanna, and Yo-yo sat on his lap.
“We’re going to a bar called Bewitched,” Zatanna told the driver. “On Haight and Fillmore. Do you know it?”
The driver gave them a curious look in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. Never had anyone go there before.”
As they drove through the twisting and hilly San Francisco streets, Tim gazed out the windows. Little kids in costumes held their parents’ hands; kids his own age were dressed up too. He even saw adults wearing masks and elaborate makeup. Everyone seemed to be having fun.
“We don’t have Halloween in England,” he said to Zatanna. “Not like you do here. That’s what I always thought of as magic. Ghosts and ghouls and witches and werewolves. It’s like Constantine said. If you can imagine it, it’s here in America somewhere.”
They pulled onto a dark street. Zatanna paid the driver as Tim and Yo-yo got out of the cab. Tim scanned the street; it was packed with cars and limos parked every which way. “Must be seriously rocking,” he said. “Look at the crowd!”
Zatanna nodded and grinned. “Glad we didn’t have to find a parking spot. I’d really need some magic tricks for that!”
They walked up to the club entrance. All the other buildings looked like abandoned warehouses. Tim suspected that had probably been the club’s previous life as well. But now the word BEWITCHED glowed in a deep purple neon over the door, and even from outside in the street Tim could feel a pulsing bass line and drumbeat. He wished Molly could see him now. It would have been so cool if he could have brought her here. Actually, he wished all the kids who picked on him in London could see him too. None of them would be able to get into this place, he thought with pride.
At least, I think I can get in, Tim mused as he gazed up at the doorman’s disdainful sneer.
“Sorry, kid, you can’t come in here,” the man said. He looked at Tim as if he were something to clean off a shoe. “Get lost. And take that stuffed bird with you.” The man flicked his fingers at Tim and Yo-yo, brushing them off.
“Yo-yo’s not stuffed,” Tim replied indignantly. The owl fluffed his feathers as if he’d been insulted. “He’s as real as you are!”
“Very funny. Isn’t it after your bedtime?”
Zatanna stepped out of the shadows and into the light streaming out of the open door. “He’s with me, Apollonius. So’s the owl.”
The man’s face completely changed. So did his manner. “Why, Miss Zatanna,” he gushed, “this is a welcome surprise. Please, go in. I’m sorry, child. Had I known you were with the enchantress…”
“Yeah, whatever.” Tim smirked at the man. “That’s what you get for being such a snob.”
“I’m sure you’re right, sir.”
They stepped through the door and into a packed nightclub. Tim stared at the spectacle in front of him.
The dance floor was a few steps down from the entryway. Hundreds of people milled about, some dancing, some talking in groups, some observing, some arguing. Black and orange balloons perfect for the Halloween theme floated near the ceiling. Amber light and pink and gold fog piped in from the corners took all the hard edges off everything. Most of the men were in tuxedos, the women in fancy gowns. Hair was slicked back, piled high, decorated with jewels, multicolored, or nonexistent. Faces were grotesque, gorgeous, inhuman, animated. They were amazing exotic creatures, far from the inhabitants of Ravenknoll Estates, East London.
What struck Tim most was the energy that emanated from the sunken area—he could practically see sparks shooting between people, currents entwining them, clouds of excited air rising and swirling through the club. It surged up inside him, making him want to join in, swallow it whole, let it take him over completely.
Zatanna seemed to feel the excitement too. She was laughing. “I haven’t come here for years. Makes me feel young again.”
Startled, Tim stared at her. “You don’t look old.”
She gave him a little bow. “Thank you, young man. For that you deserve a drink.”
As if summoned by Zatanna’s words, a waitress appeared at Tim’s side. “Can I take your order?
“Hello, Tala,” Zatanna greeted the woman holding the tray. Tim couldn’t help staring at her. She looked like a pretty and sophisticated woman in her thirties—except for her eyes. They were red-rimmed, with red pupils.
“Zatanna!” Tala exclaimed. “Nobody told me you were here!”
“This is my friend Timothy, Tal. Tala, Timothy. Tala’s a queen of evil. She’s an old acquaintance of the Trenchcoat Brigade.”
Evil? Zatanna hangs out with evil magicians? And how would the Trenchcoat Brigade know her? Unless maybe they’ve been trying to catch her…?
“Hi, Tim,” Tala said, directing those red orbs at him. “Listen, we’re getting kind of busy now. But I’ll be back to talk later, when I’m on a break. Can I take your order?”
“Ice water for me,” Zatanna said. “Tim?”
“Can I have a beer?” He figured, if she were a queen of evil, she shouldn’t mind some underage drinking.
No such
luck. “Only if you can show me a genuine ID proving you’re over twenty-one.”
Tim ducked his head sheepishly, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Zatanna and Tala laughed. “Ginger ale?” Tala suggested.
“I suppose.”
Tim watched as Tala disappeared into the gyrating crowd. “If she’s a queen of evil,” he asked, “why’s she working here?”
“She’s just resting between engagements, if you see what I mean.”
Tim shook his head. He didn’t see what she meant at all.
Zatanna clutched his arm. “Come on,” she said. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.”
Zatanna led Tim around a group of very tall, thick men who were speaking with a group of very tiny thin men. She brought him over to the bar, where a slim man in a white tuxedo stood watching the party. He was quite pale, nearly as pale as his suit, and had very dark hair. He seemed pointy: his goatee pointy, his black eyebrows pointy, even his hair seemed to stand up in two little points on top of his head, as if he had horns. Something about him made Tim uneasy. Still, if Zatanna wanted him to meet the guy, he figured it would be okay.
“Tannarak—this young man is called Tim Hunter,” Zatanna said. “Tannarak is another of the bad guys. He also owns this club.”
The man’s bloodred lips parted in a sinister smile. Did Zatanna actually like him? He gave Tim the creeps.
“Delightful as usual, Zatanna.” He faced Tim. His eyes were also red-rimmed, like Tala’s, Tim noted. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, young man. Now, Zatanna, I must take exception. I do not consider myself a ‘bad guy.’”
Zatanna smiled. “Let’s just say that we are usually on opposite sides of any…debate. It’s Halloween. We can leave it at that.”
“What does Halloween have to do with anything?” Tim asked.
“It is said that good and evil may come together on Halloween, if they choose, without ill effects,” Tannarak explained. “Zatanna and I simply have different goals,” he added. “But of course she is an honored guest here.”
He tipped his head to Zatanna. She gave a tiny nod back. There seemed to be some agreement of respect between them, even if they might be enemies tomorrow.
“Now, young man. Is there anything you want to know?”
“Do you really do black magic?” Tim asked.
Tannarak sighed. “You see? We are much maligned by those in your circles, Zatanna. Already you are turning this young man’s head.” He poured himself a drink from an elegant blue bottle. A thin purple vapor rose up from the glass. He took a drink and then faced Tim. “There’s no such thing as black magic. That’s just a poor translation. ‘Necromancy’ actually means ‘Magic of the Dead,’ but has roots in words meaning ‘black.’”
“Like when kids play telephone?” Tim asked. “The final message is totally different from the original.”
Tannarak gave Tim a look of admiration. “You have a fine pupil, Zatanna,” he said. He ran a long, purple-tipped finger along his glass. “It’s not ‘black magic’ versus ‘white magic.’ I tend to think of it as ‘live magic’ versus ‘dead magic.’”
“Tannarak would like to live forever, so he’s trying to find ways to defeat death,” Zatanna explained. “And we sometimes disagree over methods,” she added, with a hint of warning in her voice.
Tannarak ignored her. “But Tim, even that’s too simplistic. Magic is about power.”
With a move so sudden Tim barely detected it, Tannarak made the glass disappear. All that was left was the purple vapor. “It’s the ability to see through the shadow to the real world beyond. And knowing what to do about it.”
“I see. I think,” Tim said. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “And Tannarak isn’t your real name, is it?”
A reptilian smile snaked across Tannarak’s face again. “Names have power, child,” he said, nodding. “You learn fast.”
A small, bald man no taller than Tim’s knees tugged at Tannarak’s trouser leg. Tannarak glanced down. “Yes, Horatio?”
The small man didn’t say a word, but Tannarak nodded a few times. He looked annoyed. “I told them to order twice as much woodbane for this crowd,” he scolded. He looked at Tim and Zatanna. “Can’t find good help these days. Please excuse me. Hosting duties prevail.”
Tannarak and Horatio vanished into the crowd, and Tim leaned against the bar, surveying the amazing scene before him. A woman floated by him, a few inches above the floor. An enormous, powerfully built man smiled at her, revealing two sets of pointed teeth. Three girls clustered nearby, changing colors as their argument heated up. From what Tim could hear, the blue one thought the red one had used a spell incorrectly. He did a double-take when he realized they were a set of Siamese triplets. A figure with a wolf’s head nodded at Zatanna, who nodded slowly back. Tim could smell the foul odor of the creature’s animal breath.
“I just realized something,” Tim said. “The people here—none of them are wearing masks, are they?”
“That’s right,” Zatanna said. “In here, the masks are off. It’s out there”—she waved toward the doorway—“that’s where masks are worn.”
“And they come and go like regular people?” Tim asked.
“Not exactly like regular people,” Zatanna corrected. “But yes, there is interaction.”
Tim let out a low whistle. “It’s like there’s a whole other world that I never knew existed, side by side with the real one.”
Zatanna looked down into her glass of water. “Yes. And once you enter it, you can never leave.” She looked up and gazed directly at Tim. Her blue eyes were intense, causing Tim to step back. Then what she’d said sunk in.
“Never?” he repeated.
Zatanna’s expression softened. “You haven’t entered it yet, Tim,” she said. “You’re a guest.”
Tim nodded. Constantine had said he’d have to make a choice, that it’s what this journey was all about. He had a feeling Zatanna was trying to make him understand how momentous—and irreversible—that decision was.
Tim looked back out at the party. Now that he’d been there for a while, he was beginning to see through the glamour and the excitement, the gorgeous lighting and good music. He was sensing something else—an undercurrent he couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable. It was the way he felt when he had to walk past the abandoned lot on the corner of Gladstone and Pine; the bullies weren’t necessarily going to jump him each time, but he was braced for it anyway. Even when they weren’t there, the lot seemed filled with their antagonism.
Yo-yo was fidgeting on Tim’s shoulder. Maybe the bird was picking up something too.
Tim looked over at Zatanna. If she was cool, then he was just being paranoid, and Yo-yo was responding to his jitters. After all, she was the real magician here; these were her friends, this was her scene.
Uh-oh. Lines of worry creased Zatanna’s smooth, pale forehead.
“Zatanna?” he said. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m starting to think there might very well be,” she answered. She scanned the crowd. “There isn’t a single practitioner here who doesn’t work the dark side.”
“And that’s…unusual?” Tim asked. He didn’t know how these magical Halloween parties worked.
Zatanna nodded slowly. “The Halloween truce usually brings out an even number of light and dark, good and bad. In fact, it’s that balance that ensures the pact isn’t broken. That’s how the truce is enforced.”
“You’re saying you’re the only good guy here?” Tim asked. This is not good, he thought. In fact, he’d go so far as to say that it was seriously bad.
“I think the invitation may have been a trap,” Zatanna admitted. She clenched her fist. “And I fell for it.”
“What do we do now?” Tim asked.
“We get out of here—fast,” Zatanna said. “Act as if you’re having the time of your life, but follow me to the door.”
Plastering big smiles on their faces, Zata
nna and Tim and Yo-yo began to weave their way through the crowd. Tim was sure the creatures near him could hear the loud thudding of his heart, smell the terror in the sweat that was beading up along his hairline.
A spotlight blasted on, catching Tim and Zatanna in its beam. They froze, trapped in its glare. A loudspeaker crackled. Tim turned back and saw that Tannarak had taken to the stage and stood in front of a standing microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen and other entities,” he boomed. “I have an announcement. It seems there’s a special young lad in our audience tonight. Some of you may have already heard about him.”
“Oh shoot,” Zatanna said. “I’m sorry, Tim. I should never have brought you here.” She took his hand and squeezed it. It didn’t make Tim feel much better.
“As you know, there is a price on his head,” Tannarak continued. “Which need not be attached to his body,” he added with his snakelike smile.
Zatanna placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “This boy is under my protection,” she declared. “Anyone who wishes to hurt him must first reckon with me.”
Tannarak laughed. “My dear Zatanna, you are powerful, yes. But face facts. There’s one of you and over a hundred of us. The kid is history.”
Chapter Seven
TERROR SHOT THROUGH Tim, like nothing he had ever experienced before. He could feel the power emanating from these creatures.
He and Zatanna were surrounded on all sides. Creatures—human and nonhuman—circled in, closer and closer.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to look into the grotesque and evil faces. Then the whispers began.
“Come to me, boy. I will give you the power to eat life.”
“No! Give me your powers! I will reward you by allowing you to be my servant.”
The whispers and murmurs were insistent, insinuating like smoke into his brain. Tim covered his ears, but he could still hear the summons of the practitioners, each trying to win his powers, to take him over, and failing that, to kill him.
“Kcab ffo!” Zatanna shouted. “Teg yawa!”
The Invitation Page 8
