SBAT Chapter 2

Zatanna has a job, and while Selina doesn’t seem to care much about manners, Steph does. She’s not sure how to label whatever there is between her and Zatanna, but whatever it is, she likes it and doesn’t want to mess it up.

After weathering a whole day of pushy texts from Selina, Steph waits in Zatanna’s dressing room as the cheering of the audience is muffled by the walls of Gotham’s historic River Street Theater.

Her foot bounces nervously. She doesn’t like Alfred’s reaction to her findings last night. He had been silent for several very long seconds, unreadable. It was impossible to know what his thoughts or feelings were, but Steph can’t see it as anything other than deeply sad. She couldn’t tell if Alfred was somehow hopeful or merely hungry for closure, just like Selina.

There is pressure now, and she had agonized over whether or not to involve Dick. Dick was honoring Bruce’s wishes right now, but if he learned that there was anything even resembling a lead, he would throw himself in headfirst. There was no one in this world more important to Bruce than Dick, and going after the person who had defeated the Batman was hardly a safe thing to do. Bruce didn’t want people endangering themselves for him.

Zatanna’s return is a relief. A little sweaty but otherwise radiant in her cartoonishly sexy performing costume, she slips into the room and lets out a big breath.

“Good crowd.” She blows Steph a kiss and breezes past her with a few unintelligible words. Her costume vanishes, replaced by a fluffy robe. She bends to get a bottle of water out of a mini fridge and chugs half of it, then pours herself a glass of wine from the bottle in the ice bucket. “Whoo! I feel better. Drink?” She lifts her glass.

“No. No, thanks. I’m sorry. I have a work question.” Steph makes quotes with her fingers. “Work. A favor. I’m not proud of it.”

Zatanna sighs tiredly, then forces a smile. “I’ll listen.”

“I’m looking for Bruce.”

Zatanna nods. “OK. I support that.”

“I think whoever killed him or took him cleaned up after themselves. Got rid of the evidence.”

“Sure.”

“I checked out the last place Bruce was, and I think whatever happened to him had something to do with sulfur.”

Zatanna grimaces. “Why?”

“It was gone. All gone. Scientifically impossible. I figure it had to be magic.”

Zatanna’s expression becomes very sour. Seconds pass. “Bollocks,” she says very quietly.

“Well, I know that like in movies and stuff sulfur has some, uh…” Steph searches for the right word. “Associations with some things.”

Zatanna drags her palm over her face. “I’m not your expert.”

“What?”

“I’m not your expert. I can’t help you.”

There’s disappointment and relief. Steph doesn’t want to drag Zatanna into this, but she does need help. “Who can I go to? Alfred said that I should talk to Jason Blood, but nobody knows where he is.”

“You don’t want him.” Zatanna closes her eyes and takes the longest breath that Steph has ever seen. “There is someone. You understand that messing with this stuff is dangerous, right? Dangerous in ways that you are not used to,” she adds.

“It doesn’t matter.” Steph shrugs. “If I was in trouble, Bruce would show up. It’s that simple.”

Zatanna looks annoyed. “Steph, I can make the introduction. I can’t take responsibility for anything else.” She sounds almost stern.

“I’m an adult.”

“Yeah, but I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Zatanna clenches her teeth and groans. “Ugh. This sucks. God, Bruce gets on my nerves.” She tosses back her wine. “When do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible, I guess.”

“OK.” Zatanna says something and the door locks.

“Oh!” Steph jumps in surprise as her clothes vanish, replaced by her costume. Zatanna suddenly wears jeans and a coat.

She pulls a beanie from the pocket and tugs it onto her head. “You coming?”

“Where we going?” Steph pats herself down in wonder. She seems to have everything. She sort of wants to know if this equipment has been conjured from thin air or if it just vanished from the Cave. Alfred must be freaking out if that’s how it is.

“I’m guessing it’ll be England. Maybe England adjacent. Wales. Scotland. Ireland. One of those, most likely.” Zatanna uses her wand to draw a doorway in the air.

“Wait, what?”

But Zatanna’s already heading through. Steph yanks up her mask and follows, running headlong into cold, thick, humid air. The smell of nature hits hard. A second ago it was the middle of the night, but now it’s dawn. Knee-high grass crunches and rustles. There’s woodsmoke, coffee, and laundry detergent on the breeze.

In better light, this field would probably be quite lovely. A nearby forest looks a bit ominous, but Zatanna’s gaze is fixed on what’s going on ahead: a mass of campers and recreational vehicles. There are even some tents. It looks like a bunch of people are living out here.

Lights move in the distant gloom. Several vehicles approach in a line, and Steph recognizes the neon and blue check pattern of police cars.

“Oh god.” Zatanna’s look of exhaustion only grows deeper.

“What’s happening?”

“I guess this is more your scene, hero. You’re looking for John Constantine.”

“Where is he?”

“Here’s, somewhere. Blond. Don’t sleep with him.”

“I have a dick,” Steph says.

“He won’t care. You’ll need these.”

Steph frowns, accepting the pack of cigarettes that Zatanna hands her. “Good luck. I guess call me if you still have your soul when you’re done.”

Steph laughs, but Zatanna’s not laughing. Zatanna gives her a peck on the cheek, then vanishes into thin air.

Steph turns with a frown. She’s alone, in her costume, clutching a pack of Silk Cuts, as raised voices waft toward her from the direction of the encampment. Perhaps belatedly, she begins to wonder if she might be a little out of her depth.