SPELLCASTER [ZATANNA]

[II.] Away

MAYBE THREE DAYS after meeting the robbery incident, Zatanna sat at the table, locked in a staring contest with an eleven year old. 

Damian Wayne was his mother's son, there was no denying that. Zatanna had only met Talia briefly, but his eyes glinted with the same intensity as her, and she could sense the darkness that bled from the frayed edges of his soul. (It had been torn from his body, been touched by Death herself, and then returned... That sort of damage left a mark. Not one that most people could see, but she wasn't most people.) But he was a Wayne as well. That was mostly in his stubbornness.

Which is why neither of them had blinked in three minutes, thirty two seconds. There was a perfectly good breakfast set out in front of them (Zatanna's coffee was stirring itself, and her plate wouldn't get cold, all ensured by only a few simple charms. The hell spawn's across from her, however... well his might get colder sooner than usual. He might be only eleven, but Zatanna was not above pettiness with him. She had been through weeks of elaborate pranks. God, he really was the demo of parents.)

"Back at it again?" Alfred said, walking past.

"Until this witch learns that I cannot be beat in this childish game," Damian said. "We will continue to stare."

"I'm not a witch, I'm a magician," Zatanna said, glaring at him. "You can't beat a magician in a staring contest."

"I remind you that I was raised by assassins," Damian said. "I was trained not to blink."

"Yeah well, the person that trained me was literally from Hell."

"You're making that up."

"When you've locked Merkin, the Mother of Spiders in a binding spell that depends on eye contact, you wouldn't blink either."

That had been a interesting case. She had worked it with Boston and Etrigan, and John had shown up for the end result. Boston had nearly been dragged to hell... poor guy.  He really did have the worst luck.

The door slammed suddenly, and Damian's eyes darted to the side, to where Bruce was walking in.

"Ha!" Zatanna said. "I won! Take that, tiny bird boy."

"Tt," Damian said, crossing his arms dramatically.

"You beat an eleven year old in a staring contest, Zatanna," Bruce said, as he sat down. "You shouldn't be this ecstatic."

"Yes, but it's that eleven year old."

"Father," Damian said. "How long is our guest going to be staying with us?"

"As long as she needs, Damian," Bruce said. "Don't be rude."

"Isn't it rude that she showed up with no warning-"

"Damian," Bruce said sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, kid," Zatanna said, waving her hand. "Don't you have to go plan the sabotage of your dad's love life? I hear Julie still hasn't given up."

Bruce shot her a look.

"Madison hasn't given up, but not through any fault of mine," Damian said, his little voice rising an octave. "You're a witch. You cursed me!"

Zatanna shook her a head, and for a moment, she thought about all the people she knew who had been cursed. For a moment, she thought about her father. For a moment, she thought about Jason Blood. She thought about June Moone. For a moment, just a moment, she thought about John... For a single, vulnerable moment, she thought about John Constantine. That was a cursed name, if ever there was one.