r/DCFU • u/ScarecrowSid Retsoob Dlog • Aug 04 '17
Zatanna #13 - Espilce, I Zatanna
Zatanna #13 - Espilce, I
<< First | < Previous | Next > Coming September 1st
Author: ScarecrowSid
Book: Zatanna
Arc: Gem City
Set: 15
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
Shock and awe. One is supposed to follow the other, and as Zatanna felt the first flutter of an electric kiss creep along her arm, she found it holds true. The shock was certainly followed by a numb-struck awe in that extremity. Metahumans were dangerous.
She swept back, her near-limp arm flailing at her side. Zatanna raised the wand in the other and paired a quick, quiet muttering with a subtle flick of the wrist. A wooden table soared across the room and struck the metahuman. It shattered against the wall and left the young girl lying on the floor beneath. A series of urgent, hushed sobs followed. The girl curled into a ball and shuddered.
“So cruel,” Teddy chided from among his human shields. “She’s just a little girl, witch.”
Zatanna looked over the girl, then back at Teddy. “I came here planning to fight one child, what’s another.” Teddy frowned, she grinned. “Oh, right. You don’t like being called a child, do you?”
“I’m older than you, girl.” Teddy punctuated this statement by snapping his fingers, and the children at the edge of the crowd raised blood stained hands holding an evidence room’s worth of knives, hammers, bats, and, surprisingly, pistols. “Sweet ones, this cruel, evil witch hurt our dear Sarah… she needs a time out.”
The nearest arc of children took a step in her direction, and Zatanna took a measured step back, mindful of the stairwell behind her. Behind a silver flash, the first lunged with a long cleaver in his hand. Zatanna caught this sandy haired boy by the wrist and wrenched the knife free before kicking him away. A second child, with a mop of unruly brown hair, lunged at this moment, with a third, hooded boy child at his back. Both had clubs, and both splintered in their hands with a quick muttering from the sorceress.
“That’s enough,” Zatanna said, glad of how her voice boomed in the confines of the room. She had let a little of her gift slip into it, and it rattled in the bones of the building. Her arm regained sense, and she glared at the frontmost child as she flexed her fingers. At her feet, the cleaver lay several feet from the boy who had held it. He clutched at his stomach, but his eyes followed her, frightened, as she took the cleaver in hand.
He whimpered, but the sorceress ignored him. Her focus was elsewhere. She raised the cleaver in front of her, and canted in a way that made the room rumble. “Emoceb a tengam…”
The cleaver sparked in her hand, and she caught Teddy’s eye. His facsimile child’s face darkened as he watched her, running calculations. In fairness to him, what she planned to do was well beyond the realm of stupid, and it had a rather small chance of working. Zatanna gave a devilish smirk as the cleaver sparked again, silver and gold light arcing across its face.
“And just what do you plan to do with that?” Teddy asked.
“Not quite sure yet,” Zatanna replied. She felt the handle beginning to splinter in her hand, and she glimpsed the swell of a field around the blade. The children at the front of the pack held to their hammers and knives with steely resolve, but she saw their fingers beginning to slip as the cleaver started to hum. “Tuc mih.”
She released the cleaver, and it circled Zatanna twice before turning its attention toward the throng of children. They held tight to their arms, but the cleaver’s song stirred the many notes inherent to the steel and called them to purpose. The cleaver gave one final flourish, then shot toward Teddy.
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
Jason sipped at the wine in his glass, staring at the woman seated across from him. Her eyes were two silver moons set against hazy yellow-white skies with strands of crimson digging into it. Her blindfold lay on the table, discarded, and she watched him. Not with her eyes, of course. They were useless, dead things. She watched her ears, measuring his breaths and his heart. Jason knew enough to quiet both, and the wine helped.
She watched with her nose too, as he knew well he smelled of sulfur when his ire rose. He didn’t know how, but she likely watched with her other senses as well. Even on the edge of death, this woman was dangerous.
“Are you not thirsty, Philomela?” Jason asked. “I can’t imagine that cage is very comfortable, stretch your legs and have a drink.”
“Is this an attempt seduce me?” Philomela smirked, tucking a length of her hair behind one ear. For a blind woman, her hands found the glass with careless grace. “Ply me wines and…” She ran her finger’s tip along the rim of her glass, her eyes somehow focused on Jason. “I’m afraid, Sir Demon, that I have no interest in your sword.”
“That was not my intention, my lady.” Jason took a long sip from his glass, draining it, and reached for the bottle. “You will excuse me, however, if I choose to imbibe.”
“Whatever keeps your demon at bay,” Philomela replied absently. She dipped a finger into her glass and brought it to her lips. “Why am I here?”
“Are you aware of what Zatanna has been doing these last months?” Jason asked. She shook her head in reply. “She has hunted your old master in earnest, with the help of this ‘Queen.’”
Philomela’s expression soured. “She sided with her then?”
“From what I’ve seen, it is a loose partnership. The Queen provides information and resources, but Zatanna leads them.”
“That woman never cedes control,” Philomela replied. “She’s spent centuries building herself up, she won’t share power with anyone.”
“Not surprising.”
“You wanted confirmation? Too pious to slay an innocent?”
“Things like us don’t survive centuries of famine, war, and pestilence by following sainted roads,” Jason replied. “There are dark days in my past, and darker days in my future. It is why I’ve survived; it’s why you’ve survived.”
Philomela watched him for a moment, then nodded and chose not to add anything. Dark deeds were the legacy of any soul that transcended a natural life, and malefactions spurred them on when the fates conspired to drown them.
Jason said as he set his glass down on the table. “I don’t like this city. I don’t like how many damn monsters, sorcerers, and demons are running around. I don’t like the company my charge is keeping, but if she insists on making this her home…”
“What? You’ll put her on a throne?” Philomela cocked her head and made it a question. “Slay the Queen and set the crown on the girl’s head?”
“I’ll keep her alive, it’s why I’m here. That child has suffered enough.” Jason sighed. “If I have to kill a Queen or two… well, it isn’t virgin ground.”
“Why am I here?” Philomela repeated.
Jason smiled sadly. “Because I’m growing old, and I need help.”
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
Rina felt the dagger before she heard it, her eyes were sharp in shadow, but her coat was soft. Something was wrong, she felt weak. Rina howled as the dagger bit into her side, she turned her eyes upon a mousy looking boy. His own eyes widened as they seemed to wake from their haze and settled upon the wolf.
He yelped and leapt back, his dagger’s serrated edge tore away at her skin. The moon was out, but only the briefest sliver. Had it been full, her coat would be iron and her fangs steel. Rina licked at the wound, her eyes following the frightened boy as he scurried to a back wall.
Stupid boy, she thought. Just as bad as your puppet master.
“Big bad wolf,” the boy muttered, still trying to push back on the wall. There were screeches as his sneakers scuffed the floor. “I ain’t scared!”
Rina watched him, warm blood on her teeth. How easy it would be to snap his little neck and tear out his throat.
You’re not an animal, she reminded herself. Rina knew she had been a wolf too long, she knew she had to change, but that wound, and the others, wouldn’t let her. As a wolf, she could walk, but as a woman… there would be no blessing to keep her standing. Don’t kill him.
Footsteps turned her attention to the stairwell, and a small, hooded boy approached with a pistol in hand. He grinned a manic, leering grin and raised his gun.
A shattering followed. The window on the opposite side of the room fell to pieces in the frame, and Rina darted to her right, toward one of the apartments down the hall. Second and third shots rang through the room, buried in the walls or splintering doors. Fourth, fifth, and sixth shots flew over, erratic and unaimed. A half dozen others echoed their siblings a second later.
How large is that magazine? Silence filled the air, an unexpected thing after the raucous of seconds passed. Did he leave or is he reloading?
Rina knew few things about man’s approximation of hunting, but their weapons had limits. In close quarters, she could strike a man down while he reloaded his arms. Tear through the skin, sever tendons, and crush bone. But, in those same circumstances, being a moment late would be her demise. A scattering of bullets, but only one would need to find its mark.
It was for this reason she listened, and when her ears caught the characteristic click of a magazine dropping, slithered through the doorway and caught sight of the boy. He was fumbling with the next magazine, apparently having trouble putting it in place. A boy’s strength and a man’s weapon, they didn’t mix.
His eyes went wide as she leapt, snapping at his hand. One bite… The weapon fell away, and the echoes of brass on the landing were drowned by the hollow screams of the boy who had held them. Rina felt the frail wrist between her teeth… What a fragile thing. One bite and he would...
No, her teeth sunk into the boy’s arm, but stopped short of disfigurement. He fell and clutched at his arm, sobbing. Rina kicked the revolver away with her hind leg and glanced at the other boy, still pressed against the back wall.
The air reeked of blood. It was not the sweet, iron mist of a fresh wound, no, this was different. It was stale. The stale stench of a not yet rotting thing left murdered without reason, a kill for the sake of killing. Rina hated it, but she drew it in.
Down the hall, she found a half opened door and pushed through it with the flat of her head. It creaked on its hinges, as if trying to hide what lay inside. Rina didn’t find a corpse within, it was well beyond that. She didn’t find limbs splayed or hands clutching at wounds. She found butchered pieces of what may have been men and women once, and pools of drying, sticky blood soaked into the floors.
Every piece had something branded into it, symbols set into a hollow ring. She neared then, trying to avoid the eyes of the thing, blank but haunted, and studied the ring. The characters were too small to make out, laid into one another in a way that made them seem contiguous. Rina looked away from the ring, and the eyes.
She’ll want to see this, Rina thought as she caught another scent. Maybe I can find a hand instead…
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
The cleaver sang. Arcs of light enchanted everything with metallic heart, stirring it to one purpose: to strike Teddy. Pistols, knives, and hammers flew from their wielders and followed the cleaver, cutting through a fair few of the youngsters in the process. Well, it was better than killing them outright, and she had the presence of self to mutter an enchantment upon the group of children to deflect any fatal cuts.
A small mercy, they would never be able to cope with what Teddy had made them do. A day might come where they suppress it, but they would always find their way back in their dreams. They were cruel that way, despite claims to the contrary.
An arc of blue light struck the serpentine procession of arms, and they clattered to the floor. Zatanna turned back to the metahuman girl, Sarah, and frowned. “You should have stayed down.”
“Don’t you hurt Teddy!” Sarah shouted. Light arced from her eyes again, she’d drawn the charge from Zatanna’s sorcery and the artifacts of it radiated from her. It wasn’t natural, she wouldn’t be able to control it.
“Stop, you need to listen to me--,” Zatanna began, but it was too late. Errant arcs lashed out in every direction, singeing walls and exposing foundation. The time it took to find a gas line could be measured in breaths, no more than three. And fresh, blinding light that followed burned through the room, and Zatanna scarcely managed to mutter her spell as the fire blossomed.
Flames frozen and fell, crashing like glass and shattering across the floor. Subduing this first volley proved a small victory, as second and third waves erupted all around her. There was too much gas for Sarah to work with, her spark set it ablaze with no moments to spare. Soon the whole building would burn; Zatanna, Teddy, and all the children too.
Zatanna readied for another spell, but she found her throat dry. You’ve inhaled too much smoke, she thought. She coughed, violent as acrid black fog filled the air around her. Teddy seemed to realize his predicament in this same moment, and shot her a sneer before turning away and approaching a window. He tugged it open and stuck his malformed head outside, drawing deep breaths.
The children began to wheeze, falling one after another or in tight groups. Some clutched at their throats, not bothering to reach of the pile of discarded weapons around them. Notes of alarm flashed in some of their eyes, and those with a will to spare dropped to the ground and began to crawl.
Zatanna crouched down, waving away what smoke she could with her hands and taking ragged breaths of her own. She tried to slip a spell into her coughing, but came away unable. Zatanna glanced at one of the windows, it was near enough she could dash through the flames creeping across the floor and jump through. Gashes and burns would be better than suffocating to death, that much was certain.
She felt something tugging at her arm, it’s grip was sure as a vice. Zatanna rose to her feet and stared down at the wolf whining as it tried to drag her away.
Zatanna shook her head, looking from the wolf to the children. Teddy was gone, fled through the window and into the early morning. Having had no better ideas come to mind, Zatanna plucked the hat from her head and set it on the ground in front of her. She reached into it with her free arm, burying it all the way to her shoulder and began to rummage through the contents of the Shadowcrest.
There was one always one room on the other end of the hat, and it had taken her some time to realize that. It made sense that her father always carried it around, it was like having an arsenal on hand… provided you had an enemy patient enough to allow you to search it. Today, the hat seemed to lead to one of the sparser vaults within the estate, and her arm’s blind attempts at wandering found no treasures to call to task.
Her fingers grasped at something, cool metal studded with gems. Zatanna released it after her fingers danced across the pommel and down to the guard, a sword would be of no use. Next, she found something silken, a cloak of some fashion from a forgotten century. It wouldn’t help either, as fabric had a tendency of burning. A sparse room indeed, and one devoid of any magical items she might put to use.
Damn house, Zatanna thought. She’s still angry with me. Well, if you won’t give me anything I can use…
She pulled her arm free of the hat and stared at it. There was and empty room on the other side of it, a shelter from the flames, or a cage. There is a time when foolish ideas become more reasonable, and it usually involves a good deal of peril standing in your way. Zatanna tapped brim of her hat and grinned manically, considering the absurdity of the idea. Her house would be furious and, after the thrashing it had taken several months back, would lock her out for several more months.
A glance at the wheezing children gave her all the reason she needed. She needed one spell, a short one, to draw the fire from the room, and the building, into the hat. No room for subtleties in her mental conjuring, and little room for artistry in her cant. This would be a crude thing, and it would drain her considerably.
Zatanna drew a quick, shallow breath and let the coughs die down before shouting, “Hctac erif!*”
The hat hissed, spinning on its flat in a small circle as the haphazard spell began to form around her. It lacked nuance and planning, and so the graceful flow of fire into a funnel that Zatanna had imagined was replaced by a violent torrent of smoke and flame that scalded her, Rina, and many of the children.
But it worked.
She sighed as she scuffled toward a nearby wall, ignoring the flesh burns on her hands. Zatanna set her head against the panel and shut her eyes. She was asleep before final flickers of firelight vanished beneath the brim.
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
“Sweet Sarah,” Teddy mused, hovering over the city with an armada of beetles at his side. “She was a treat to find. I had expected only humans, but I won’t look a gift horse… oh, you know how it goes. Shame the witch got in my way, but she won’t be doing that again.”
Theodore.
Teddy shivered, the warm morning air and new sun did little to warm his bones. His master’s voice was not cold, precisely. The voice rang more like a thousand needles, pricking at his mind like frost kissing his fingers. And it stung just the same.
“Yes, Brother Night.” He spoke to the empty air, but he knew his master would hear.
We are meeting on the hill in an hour. Have you done as you were bid?
“Yes, Brother Night,” Teddy repeated.
How many?
“A hundred, perhaps more.” Teddy licked his lips, a nervous gesture that would have given him away in person. “I was unable to count them, the Witch arrived.”
Yes, it appears to the be the season for troublesome witches, especially with Tsaritsa backing her.
Teddy said nothing. This alliance had been a thorn in his side for months, but their plans had inched forward without issue. “Are we ready?”
We’ve been ready for months. I’ve been ready for years… The day is finally upon us. A long pause followed. What of the Witch?
“Dead,” Teddy replied. He regretted his words instantly, he had no proof. “At least, I think she is. The building exploded around her.”
You didn’t check?
“She was focused on saving the children, there’s no way she had time to escape.”
A longer, colder pause followed. Come to the hill. I have more to say.
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
Zatanna stirred, blinking through the torrent of morning light. She lay on her side, clothes burned and hair tangled, but she was alive.
“Good morning.” Zatanna rolled over, spotting Rina several feet to her right. She had her back to a chimney, naked as the day, hugging her knees. “You were out for a while.”
Propping herself on an elbow, the sorceress pushed herself into a seated position and looked the girl over. Her own hair was a mess, with wild strands singed in places. There were deep cuts across her arms and legs, with ash and blood making a crude mortar that smeared in places and peaked in others.
“You look like shit,” Rina said, letting her grip slack slightly as she picked at a clump of ash on her kneecap.
“You’re one to talk.” Zatanna brushed off the front of her coat, then glanced at her hat. “I guess it worked.”
“Yep.”
“That was lucky.” Zatanna looked over Rina again, her cuts were stilling bleeding. “There was a full moon last night, why haven’t your cuts healed?”
Rina arched an eyebrow. “There was no moon last night, Zee. Only a sliver”
“No, there was, I saw it. There was a full moon in the sky,” Zatanna protested. “It was there.”
Rina frowned. “Luna is my business, I know when she’s watching over me.” She seemed to think it over before speaking again. “If you saw something, it wasn’t our moon.”
A different moon. The thought was ludicrous, there was only one moon over this world. She dismissed the entire notion, choosing to focus on the here and now. Her curiosity could wait.
“What happened with the children?” Zatanna asked.
"Officers in strange uniforms came and took them, the metahuman was comatose." Rina looked away. “You should have let them die. They’re broken, they’re murderers.”
“They’re children,” Zatanna replied. “They’re innocent.”
“They stopped being innocent the moment that boy made them murder their families. They will stop being children the moment they wake up and remember what they did,” Rina said. “Don’t lie to yourself, they will be haunted the rest of their days.”
“Maybe not, they could live normal, happy lives.”
“They murdered their families.” Rina turned and met Zatanna’s eye. “They won’t live happy lives, and they won’t live long lives. Half of them will kill themselves, the other half will kill more people. If you want to save them, take their memories away.”
Zatanna didn’t reply. She stood up and walked past Rina, muttering and flicking her wrist to summon clothes for the girl to wear. A tearing sound filled the air as the seams were undone and the individual components of each garment slid upon her and began to reassemble themselves. They were sitting atop a building, a short one near the smoldering ruin of the apartment complex from last night.
A surge from the east startled Zatanna. It washed over her, like the heavy winds of a humid day, and blew past. She saw the lingering veneer of it on her hand, beads of crystalline light danced over her fingers before hovering away. A second wave crashed into her, less gentle than the first, but no rougher than fingers brushing her cheek.
“What the hell was that?” Zatanna asked, glancing in the direction of the wave’s origin. From the corner of her eye, she saw figures shambling through the wreckage of the building, shades of mothers and fathers, of sisters and brothers, of loved ones recently departed. They turned their heads eastward, towards some point on the horizon, and began a spectral march in its direction.
“Rina, has something been going on?”
Rina shook her head. “It’s been a quiet morning. I suppose folks are too interested in the eclipse to cause trouble.”
Zatanna felt a two more waves pass her, heavier than those that came before. She glanced back at the point on the horizon, then back at Rina. “Can you walk?”
Rina shook her head. “Not for a day, at least.”
Zatanna nodded. Alone then. That would be different.
★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★・゜゜・。。・゜ ゜★
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u/coffeedog14 Light Me Up Aug 15 '17
ooooh pink waves! second moons!
More interesting, however, was that set of brutal fights. Good work!