The Invitation (9 page)

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, Zatanna 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.”

T
ERROR 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!”

Tim sensed a gap between him and whoever had been in front of him. Zatanna must have pushed them away with her backward speaking.

The murmurs continued, but now they addressed Zatanna as well. “I am the Queen of Mirrors! Woman, give me the boy or one night your reflection will sneak out of its frame and cut your sleeping throat!”

“If you stand in our way we will feed the boy your heart before we cut his own out to increase our power!”

Smells came to Tim: sulfur, lizards, mud. Something flicked the side of his face and his eyes popped open. Tentacles reached for him over Zatanna's shoulder. A clawed hand had its talons in Zatanna's long hair. Tim felt nauseous from the fear.
We're done for
, he thought.

Then—“Constantine!” a shocked voice called out.

Tim whirled around. Slouched in the doorway, John Constantine lit one of his ever-present cigarettes.

“Nobody touches the boy,” he said.

All murmurs, all movement, stopped. Time seemed suspended in the dead silence. Constantine took a step into the room.

“That's right. The boy's mine. And in thirty
seconds me and him, and the witch, are going to walk out of here. Oh, yeah,” he added. “The owl too.” He surveyed the room for a moment. “You know who I am. My reputation. Or you ought to. Now…” He paused to take a deep drag from the cigarette. “Does anyone here really want to start something?”

Tim held his breath. Zatanna's grip on his arm tightened. No one moved. No one spoke.

“Right,” Constantine said to Tim and Zatanna. “Come on, you lot. We're leaving.”

Tim didn't need to be told twice. He beat it out of there fast—so fast he was outside and breathing hard before Zatanna and John had left the building. He leaned against the wall and took in great gulps of night air.

Tim wondered what would have happened if John hadn't shown up. What kind of magic would they have performed on him? Would he be dead now? Or perhaps death would have been a better alternative to what those creatures had in mind. What was he mixed up in?

And yet…shot through Tim's fears was the glimmering knowledge that he was somehow important. Important enough to kill. To fight over. To defend. It was a heady feeling.

The door to the club slammed. “I could have stopped them, you know,” Zatanna complained.

“Yeah, you probably could.” John sounded amused.

Zatanna, on the other hand, sounded exasperated. “John, you don't have any power to speak of. Any one of them could have torn you to shreds. But they—they were scared of you.” Her wide eyes searched his face for answers. Answers Tim didn't think she'd get. He knew that much about Constantine by now. “I don't understand what happened back there.”

“Magic.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Seriously, John.”

“A good magician never reveals his secrets, love.
You
taught me that. But it helps that they're all a few guppies short of an aquarium.”

“Speak English, can't you?”

“I speak perfect English,” John protested. “So does Tim. It's you that's got the funny accent.”

John gave Tim a wink.

Tim laughed and Zatanna shook her head. Then she touched a hand to John's cheek and turned his face to the streetlight. Tim could see a dark bruise under John's eye, and what looked like burns along his jaw.

“What happened to your face?” Zatanna asked. “What happened in Calcutta?”

“The usual.” John shrugged her away.

“Mr. Constantine.” Now Zatanna sounded like a kindergarten teacher reprimanding a small child. “Are you mysterious about everything?”

“Who, me? Transparent as glass, I am.”

An expression came over Zatanna's face that Tim had seen frequently on Molly. She wasn't backing down. “It would be a lot easier to protect Tim if he and I both knew what was threatening him.”

“Yeah,” Tim seconded. “I have a right to know. I mean, it's all about me, isn't it?”

John gave them a weary look and ran a hand through his blond hair. “All right, all right. Calcutta is a stronghold of the Cold Flame. It's where they've been putting up, lately. We wanted to take them out—weaken their numbers. So we did.”

“But why are they after me?” Tim asked. “I'm not the one who can do magic.”

“Not yet. They don't want you to live up to your full potential,” John explained.

Tim snorted. “My teachers at school already say that I'm not. Living up to my full potential, I mean.”

“Well, the Cold Flame don't want you to live—at all,” John said grimly. “Because if you develop in the way that you could, you might become a great threat.”

“There's more to it, isn't there?” Zatanna asked.

“Not yet,” John said. “Right now their goals are clear. They may shift.”

“What do you mean?” Tim demanded.

“If they can't kill you, then they will try like Hades to win you over to their side,” John said. “Which would put you and me on opposing teams.”

“I would never do that!” Tim exploded. “How can you say that?”

Zatanna put a hand on Tim's shoulder. “It's all right, Tim. We both know how you feel.” She looked at John. “Now that you're back, does that mean you and Tim will be leaving?”

John nodded. “Places to go, people to see. All that.”

After all the recent excitement, Tim wasn't sure he wanted to have any new experiences. He felt that the ones he'd had so far would hold him for quite some time. Besides, he liked Zatanna and her cheerful sunny house, and he'd hoped she would teach him some magic tricks to show Molly before he had to leave.

Before he could protest, though, Zatanna turned and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Tim, it was great meeting you,” she said. “Call me the next time you're in the States, okay?”

Well, that ended that. Tim forced a smile. “Of course,” he told her. “You've been terrific. Thanks for everything. Except the soy milk,” he added with a grin.

Zatanna gave him a squeeze. “No problem. You were a great house guest. You and Yo-yo.”

Yo-yo hovered in front of Zatanna and nodded his head as if to say good-bye.

Zatanna put her hands on her hips and crossed to Constantine. “Now, John Constantine. I don't think I'll ever understand you. Not if I live to be a thousand.”

“No? And I'm such an uncomplicated bloke. You're slipping.” They smiled at each other. “Give us a kiss and I'll be out of your life for another year or so.”

Tim turned away as they kissed. He only turned back when he heard John speaking again.

“By the way,” John said, “I almost forgot. We haven't got passports or tickets. Uh, could you, y'know, twitch your nose or something?”

Zatanna shook her head and laughed. “Jerk. You're practically useless. Stropssap dna stekcit raeppa.”

Tim felt groggy, as if he were awakening from a deep sleep. Then he tried to sit bolt upright and felt himself restrained by a seat belt.
How'd that
happen?
he wondered.

They were back aboard a plane, once again without seeming to travel there. Tim, who had never been outside of England in all his thirteen years, had now flown over the ocean to New York City, traveled across the huge United States to California, and was back on his second international flight. All within the space of what? A few days? His head swam.

“Okay, kiddo,” John said, leaning back into his seat. “So what have you learned so far?”

“Learned?”

“Yeah. Come on. I've dragged you halfway around the world, you've been introduced to, insulted, or threatened by some of the most powerful practitioners of the art in existence. What have you learned?”

“I dunno. That all of them except Zatanna are about as well-balanced as upturned eggs.” He could have made a point of including John Constantine in that group but decided against it.

“Yeah, that's a good beginning.”

Tim thought more about what this trip had shown him, what was new information. “And that they don't live in the same world that most people do. Their world is like a shadow of ours. Dark and distorted, but still connected. At least with the
bad guys. I guess with the good guys too. Like Zatanna. She's half in and half out of ordinary living.” He twisted in his seat to gauge John's reaction. “Am I making sense?”

John looked thoughtful. “More than you know.”

Tim sensed admiration in John's blue eyes and he smiled. It felt good to have earned this elusive, unpredictable fellow's respect.

Constantine reached for the headphones in the pocket of the seat in front of him. “Dr. Occult will be your guide for the next leg of the trip.”

“Where's he going to take me, then? Tibet? Outer space?”

“Fairyland.”

Tim stared at John, who fiddled with the headphones, calm as a quiet lake. Tim stared some more. Finally he managed to find his voice. But all that came out of his mouth was…

“Fairyland?”