Life: 11. Do you believe in magic?

Chapter 11: Do you believe in magic?

Rigal Phenex
Gotham, NJ, USA

I skipped into the newly furnished lab with a smile on my face. “Serling-chan~”

The blonde nanorobotics genius was hunched over her new lab table, soldering something with what looked like a tiny welding torch but I was sure had a techy name.

She shivered with visceral disgust and made a gagging noise. “Please don’t ever call me that again.”

I gave her a hug and smiled guilelessly. “But, but, how will I express my affection and appreciation for your work?”

“By never calling me that again.”

“Okay, fine, you killjoy.”

“Why Japanese? Don’t tell me you started watching anime.”

“Actually, Japan’s our favorite human country,” I told her. “And by ‘our’ I mean the Underworld as a whole.”

“Wait, really? Why?”

“Well, the Red Dragon Emperor is Japanese and he’s a hugely important figure in the Underworld even if he’s not one of the four Satans. He totally could have been but refused the position.”

“Right… ‘Satan’ is what you call your chief officials. You know, the more I hear about the Underworld, the weirder it sounds to me.”

“Why? It’s not any different than a prime minister.”

“I grew up Catholic. It’s weird hearing that ‘satan’ is a title you can pass around.”

“It didn’t used to be. Anyway, Uncle Issei is a huge deal and he was originally a Japanese schoolboy who got caught up in the supernatural business.”

“Huh, sounds like a wild story.”

“It is. It’s been turned into at least six different movies and TV shows, all with plenty of action, drama, and even more tits. Actually, knowing Uncle Issei, they probably downplayed the nudity if anything.”

“Joy… Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know, I forgo–Oh! You wanted to know why I do the Japanese kawaii thing. Anyway, Japan’s a big part of our culture, was even before Uncle Issei. Aunt Rias, his main wife, actually skipped out on noble finishing school in the Underworld so she could attend high school in Japan. Her family literally bought a private girls academy and turned it co-ed so the male members of her peerage could enroll with her.”

“That sounds excessive. Consider my curiosity satisfied. You’re not weird; you’re normal for devils. And that is a very unfortunate thing,” she replied dryly.

“Rude, but thanks,” I said, more sincerely now. I summoned a tray of tea and cake from the kitchen. “Got you a little something for taking care of the Roost’s network security.”

“My bonus is tea and cake?” she asked, eyebrow raised. She took a nibble and let out a happy moan. “Mnn, okay, delicious cake, but still.”

“Hey, I would have gotten you something better if I knew what you liked. You don’t seem like the jewelry or flowers kind of girl.”

“Yeah, no. Jewelry gets in the way and I’m allergic to pollen. Practical gifts only, please.”

“Not all flowers have airborne pollen,” I pointed out.

“I’ve killed every living thing I’ve ever tried to raise, no thanks.”

“Fair enough, what do you do when you’re not being a mad scientist?”

“I read. A good book is always appreciated. Or clothes,” she hummed. “You know, I was in Star City until I got kidnapped. I didn’t exactly get the chance to bring my things.”

“Huh. I thought you and Nora went shopping?”

“I did, but it’s a bit colder up here than in Northern California and winter is coming. I could use a nice, fluffy jacket. Hint, hint,” she said, elbowing me in the side.

“Cool, I’ll add it to the list.”

“Thanks, boss. Also, any chance I can get an introduction to magical engineering? Or enchanting?”

I shook my head. That wasn’t a favor I could easily grant. “Not unless you join my peerage. It’s not that I’m trying to gatekeep knowledge from you, but all my books are written in Enochian. Well, the devil dialect of Enochian anyway.”

“Right, and devils get a free translator.”

“Yup. Want me to read to you at night?” I winked.

“Fat chance. I’m a little old for bedtime stories. I’ll… I’ll think about the peerage thing.”

“Take your time, Serling. No rush.”

“I appreciate it.”

As I walked away, I felt an alarm pull at my senses.

I had several of them scattered throughout. A quick check told me that no one was attacking the Phoenix Roost, nor was anyone trying to off Batman while he was on the toilet or something. That left something outside Gotham.

I found what I was looking for. The alarm was coming from a set of proximity wards I’d layered around Salem. That meant that the bookmarks I’d left with the heroes were approaching the town. If I remembered right, they were checking on Kent Nelson, the host of Doctor Fate, who’d gone missing.

“Something wrong?” Serling asked. I realized I’d not moved in several seconds. “You look constipated. Can devils get constipated?”

“Barring magical poisons, no, we can’t. I’m just trying to decide if I should go do something stupid,” I told her honestly.

“I’m a little afraid to ask, but fine, I’ll bite. How stupid?”

“Monumentally stupid. Like getting shitfaced on the Fourth of July and trying to light fireworks via your rectum kind of stupid.”

“And you need to think about it?” she asked disbelievingly. I could practically see her estimation of me falling by the second.

“I could potentially get a lot out of this though,” I whined.

“Got it. High risk, high reward scenario then.”

“Can’t get much higher than a showdown between a Lord of Order and a Lord of Chaos.”

“No idea what that means, but it sounds serious.”

“Yup… The Tower of Fate is being attacked and I might, maybe, get the chance to loot it in the chaos.”

“Again, no idea what that is,” she said with a grumpy sigh. “Look, what would you say is your chance of success here?”

“Umm…” I thought about Shadowcrest Manor. The Tower of Fate was arguably the only place in the world better warded than Giovanni Zatara’s private residence. Then again, I’d been practicing. “Fifteen percent…?”

“Knowing your bouts of stupid optimism, let’s say the number’s closer to five percent.”

“Rude…”

“Am I wrong?”

I sighed, defeated. She wasn’t even my Pawn yet and she already had me figured out. “No…”

“And what will happen to you in the very likely event that you fail to infiltrate this ‘Tower of Fate’ unnoticed?”

“Fate literally doesn’t have human morals so… a lot worse than that time I got caught out by Zatanna,” I admitted. “Really, the problem is that I might end up an accidental ally of the Witch Boy’s. Or worse, have to fight both.”

“And fighting both would be bad?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Let me put it this way: I’m more wary of those two than I am of Superman.”

“So this idea of yours is…” she said leadingly.

“I get it.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Ugh, fine. My idea is dumb and I won’t try to use a fight between Order and Chaos to try to loot Order’s house for magical doodads,” I grumbled. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, actually,” she replied smugly. “Making you admit you’re being dumb is surprisingly satisfying. In other news, I didn’t know you were such a magpie about your ‘magical doodads.’”

“Everyone needs a hobby.”

“Most people try not to pick hobbies that can get them killed.”

“Whatever. I’m going to go mess with Kaldur’s water-bearer. It’d be cool if I can make a fire wand that lets other people do the same thing I do with hellfire.”

“You do that, boss.”

X

Zatanna Zatara

Dad saw the anomaly in the family wards and figured me out in ten minutes. Well, he found out that a demonic presence tried to test them even if he couldn’t conclusively prove that it was Rigal. I had a feeling he suspected anyway. I didn’t know which he thought was worse: that Rigal Phenex, a devil lordling, visited, or that I had a cute boy over.

Either way, I owed Rigal a big thank you. Dad decided the wards weren’t enough anymore and that I should socialize with other superpowered kids. That was how I got put on the kiddie team. “The Team,” caps mandatory, according to Robin.

I was supposed to be their magic consultant, just like dad was for the League. At the same time, I could be exposed to other people my age while learning more about the hero business.

“Magic, yeah. You know, I’m something of a true believer myself,” Wally, Kid Flash, said as he leaned towards Miss Martian.

I zoned him out. His blatant crush on her was honestly a little gross, especially because he tried so damn hard to be something he wasn’t. I would have honestly respected him more had he just stuck to his guns and said magic was all smoke and mirrors.

We were on our way to the Tower of Fate sans Robin. He, alongside Batman, was busy doing… I wasn’t sure, he didn’t tell anyone. If I had to guess, they were investigating the recent Arkham breakout. Whatever the case, my first mission on the Team promised to be interesting.

Kent Nelson, one of the greatest wizards alive and host of the Helmet of Fate, had missed a scheduled check-in. Red Tornado gave us the key to the tower and set us on a flight path to Salem, the infamous town of witch burnings.

Just the bare bones of the mission gave me the chills. Kent Nelson was a magical celebrity. Sure, dad was more famous among normies, but that was because he put on stage shows. Besides, I grew up with dad; he was old news.

Doctor Fate was the original, a member of the Justice Society of America, the predecessor to the League. To a mage like me, going to the Tower of Fate to meet him was like meeting Brad Pitt and General Eisenhower at the same time. It almost made Wally’s terrible flirting tolerable.

We got out of the bioship at an empty lot. Nothing was here save for browning grass. The nearest building was a gas station almost half a mile away.

“Strange, this is the right place,” Miss Martian muttered. “I followed the coordinates and…”

“Maybe the tower moves,” Wally said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes and held a hand out to Aqualad. “Mind if I take the key?”

“Of course, Zatanna,” he said, tossing me the key. “You are our magic consultant.”

“Thanks, boss. This key’s practically radiating magical energy. I’m going to need a few minutes to figure out how to use it.”

“That is better than me. I would not know where to begin. I spent some time at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis, but I admit I was not a gifted student.”

I studied the key. Briefly, I wondered what Rigal would pay to get his hands on it, probably enough to buy a small country. A minute later, I thought I had the gist figured out. “Good news, the tower doesn’t move. It’s invisible.”

“Photon wave disruptors? They probably have heat sinks nearby,” Wally said. He began to zoom around the perimeter. He was fast, I’d give him that.

I walked up to a seemingly empty space and pressed the key into the air. A portion of it vanished, as if there was a keyhole, and there was the sound of an unlatching deadbolt. The tower revealed itself.

“What? No way,” the resident ginger cried. “I just ran through that space!”

“Space is malleable with the right enchantments. Dad can move Shadowcrest Manor to different ley lines so I’m assuming Doctor Fate can do the same thing with his tower. It’s an interesting bit of magic; the tower is in a bit of uncertain space and materializes with a bit of faith from the one who holds the key.”

“Phasic metamaterials? That’s so cool.”

Artemis nudged him in the ribs. “I thought you were a ‘true believer.’”

“A-Ah, yeah, let’s go see the wizard…”

I ignored the pair in favor of gazing up at the tower. It was only four or five stories tall, but I wasn’t fooled. Everything about this tower captivated me. The material was older than anything I could imagine, as if it had been built before humans had the spoken word. For all I knew, this could have literally been a slice of Babel, taken and preserved into a Lord of Order’s bachelor pad. 

The wards were similarly impressive, a match for any other place on earth save perhaps Shadowcrest itself. They were so dense with mana that just being nearby made the blood in my veins buzz uncomfortably. Even now, though I held the key, I could feel the tower’s limited sentience judging me, weighing me atop a scale only it could see.

But what truly had me awed was the sheer Order of it. The wards of Shadowcrest Manor had been built up by every generation of Zatara. There was a certain degree of chaos involved in that; we didn’t all think alike, nor did we study the same fields of magic. That disorder made the manor’s wards difficult to predict at times, as Rigal found out first hand.

Not so here. I was looking at perfection; there was no other word to describe the vision of magical artistry before me. There was no wasted script. Every spark of mana was used perfectly for maximum efficiency, even if I wasn’t always sure what that efficiency was being aimed at. I hadn’t realized mathematically perfect wards were possible, but here they were.

We stepped inside and were greeted by a rather cramped foyer. Behind us, the door vanished, leaving us trapped inside. It looked unimpressive to those without magical senses, but the entire room hummed with power to me. I knew immediately that we were being judged.

A distinguished gentleman appeared in front of us. He had a cane and was wreathed in a golden aura. This had to be Kent Nelson, or, a projection of him.

“Greetings, you have entered the tower with a key. The tower does not recognize you. Please state your name and intent,” the tower’s genius loci demanded. Clearly, the magical hotspot had developed some measure of independence.

Kid Flash blurred forward with the fakest smile I’d ever seen. I’d only been on this team for less than three hours and I could tell he was about to put his foot in his mouth, again.

Problem was, misspeaking in the presence of such powerful intent-based wards was a monumentally horrible idea.

I kicked him in the back of the leg and barked, “Epat diK s’hsalF htuom tuhs!”

“Ow! Hey, what’s the bi–Mmph!”

I smirked as a roll of tape materialized over his mouth. I held the key out, not that that was likely necessary. “We are here on behalf of the Justice League to look for Kent Nelson. Red Tornado sent us to ensure that he and the Helmet of Fate were safe.”

“Acknowledged. Be welcome,” the projection spoke. Behind it, the brickwork folded inward to form a door.

“Will this take us to him?” Aqualad asked. I liked him. He was smart enough to check instead of rushing right in.

“The master of the tower is not present at this time. You may await his return in the sitting room.”

The projection vanished, leaving us little choice but to wander further into the tower. On the plus side, it did say, “Be welcome,” so it likely wasn’t leading us into a pit of lava or some other death trap. Genius loci weren’t fairies, but hospitum was always nice to have.

We were led into a lavish sitting room. It reminded me a little of my own home. There was a big, warm fireplace and several armchairs surrounding a rich, mahogany coffee table. On the table, there was a cane that stood out to my magical senses. To one side was a liquor cabinet filled with expensive-looking brandy.

Above the mantle was a large painting of a brown-haired woman with a coquettish smile. I could only assume she was Mr. Nelson’s wife. Everything about this place was warm and inviting, old in a way that felt luxurious and storied without crossing the line into pretentiousness.

Even as we watched, a tea set shifted into reality atop the coffee table. It came with scones, jam, and clotted cream. Clearly, the tower knew how to entertain.

“Woah, this place is sweet!” Wally said as he blurred into a seat. He already had a scone in hand, lathered in streaks of red and white.

“It is very impressive,” Kaldur said, looking around cautiously. “The magic here… it flows in ways I cannot describe. We will wait here until Mr. Nelson returns.”

“Can you imagine? What if he just went to hang out with his bingo buddies or something?”

“He’s not that old, Wally.”

“The Justice Society of America was a thing like sixty years ago. He’s in his eighties, man.”

“Is that old?” Megan asked, head tilted curiously. “That doesn’t sound very old to me.”

“Wait, hold up,” Artemis said, taking a seat next to Kaldur. “How old are you, Megan?”

“Forty-eight. I’m still very youn–”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

“I-Is that not normal?”

“Define ‘normal,’” I said with a chuckle. “Not every race ages at the same rate and we don’t all have the same lifespan. For the record, Megan, humans have an average lifespan ranging from sixty to ninety years depending on the quality of life, availability of healthcare, and other factors. Some humans live to be a hundred. I think the oldest ever was like a hundred twenty?”

“Really? So…”

“So for us, adolescence refers to ages thirteen to eighteen here in America.”

“That’s really interesting. Martians can expect to live for three hundred years. Uncle Jon said I would be the rough equivalent of a sixteen year old human girl in terms of development, but I never thought much about it.”

“Yup. Some earthlings live a lot longer though. Yokai, devils, and fae are all more or less immortal unless slain in combat.”

“Oh, please. Those don’t really exist,” Wally said, despite having met a devil several times now.

“Why do you say that?” I asked patiently. “You’ve met several aliens in the form of Superman, Connor, and Megan here. Why is it so hard to imagine that we might not share the planet? Truthfully, humans aren’t even the oldest sentient species who can claim to be called ‘earthlings.’”

“Martians and kryptonians evolved individually on their own planets. Competition would make it really hard for a second sentient species to evolve from the same planet. It’s just basic biology.”

“And what am I?” Kaldur asked. “Are Atlanteans not proof that there is more to this world than landwalkers first guessed?”

“Dude, you’re human. You have evolutionary adaptations to suit life underwater, but you’re still genetically human. I can take a bit of your spit and sequence your DNA to prove it back at the base if you want.”

“That is true, but many Atlanteans have more piscine traits than gills and a sturdier body. Some have scales, fins, stingers, or even glow in the dark. Those traits are also not uniformly distributed among the populace and cannot be accounted for by evolutionary science alone. How would you explain that?”

Wally shrugged. “I don’t know, man, I’m not a doctor. But that doesn’t mean you’re magic. Even if no one alive knows, that still wouldn’t mean you’re magic. It’d mean that we humans haven’t figured out the explanation yet. Everything can be explained by science.”

“And Rigal’s talking pet bird? I’m pretty sure robins don’t talk, not counting boys dressed like robins,” Artemis said with a smirk.

“Familiar, a familiar is a creature bound in a magical contract to a mage,” I filled her in. “Usually, the familiar gains increased intelligence, lifespan, and some magical abilities, like speech.”

“Not you too,” the speedster groaned. “Rigal’s a ventriloquist who was hiding nearby, big whoop. Just because you’re a stage magician doesn’t mean you need to lean into the bit when you’re off the clock, Zatanna. Come on, you’re a stage magician! You of all people should know how tricks are done!”

“I do. I am the assistant to my father, who is widely considered the greatest stage magician in history,” I said insistently, “which is why when I tell you that misdirection has nothing to do with this, you should believe me.”

Before we could continue, the projection appeared again, scaring the living daylights out of us. The form of Kent Nelson hovered above the coffee table with a smug, knowing grin that suited the older gentleman eerily well.

“As interesting as this conversation is,” he said, “I must inform you that there are intruders in the tower.”

“I guess you don’t mean us,” I muttered.

“Quite. They entered the tower when it materialized following your usage of the key.”

“How? That shouldn’t be possible. It’s not like the tower is an open gate.”

“They have the master of the tower with them.”

“If Mr. Nelson is with them, and they are intruders, it stands to reason that they have captured him,” Kaldur put together. “Where are they? We can help.”

“Grab the cane. You will be taken to them,” the projection replied, gesturing to the coffee table.

I paused, mind whirling. Suddenly, the cane that had sat so innocuously on the coffee table seemed far more imposing. 

I figured we’d check on Mr. Nelson, have tea, and maybe I’d get to ask him some questions about magic. Instead, this was now a rescue mission against unknowns. Dad said I was too impulsive, but even I knew the gravity of what I’d just heard.

Someone was powerful enough to capture one of the greatest wizards of the age and force their way into the Tower of Fate. There were precious few people who had the magical chops to pull that off and I’d be facing them with a team who had, at best, a passing familiarity with the mystical side of the world.

My hand drifted to a bookmark I’d kept without dad’s knowing. Summoning a devil into a Lord of Order’s sanctum didn’t sound like a good idea, but then again, I wasn’t sure the situation could get much worse.

I took a deep breath. I’d check it out first. Trembling, I reached for the cane.

Author’s Note

So begins the Tower of Fate arc.

I feel like Serling would be the one who keeps Rigal grounded.

I hope Rigal’s reluctance to enter the tower is fairly self-explanatory. He doesn’t think he’d get along with Nabu, and definitely not with Klarion. He could potentially contest them because Lords of Chaos and Order act through mediums while they’re in the mortal plane, but the possibility of making enemies with both, however slim, is one he wants to avoid at all costs.

Of course, we know that he’s going to get summoned anyway because Zatanna joined early and she’s smart enough to know when she’s out of her depth. Although, the act of summoning itself changes the dynamics there. Instead of invading the tower to steal treasure, he’d be invited in, which is a very different situation.

Zatanna gets a much politer introduction to the tower than Wally because she’s not Wally. Funny thing is, Klarion and Abra Kadabra weren’t in the tower when they came in. They had to wait for Aqualad to use the key and reveal the tower before entering in canon.

I’ve always liked the idea that certain conventions are universally accepted, even among magical races. Guest right would probably be at the top of the list and there are historical references to such pretty much across every culture.

The Greeks called it “xenia,” and thought that they might entertain gods. Because, you know, Zeus will dress up as anything for a chance to dick down anyone except his lawfully married wife.

The Romans, as Zatanna says, called it “hospitum,” referring to a personal guest-host experience.

The Jews had a similar notion. I don’t know what it’s called in Hebrew, but there is a verse in the Torah that reads something like, “Be kind to guests, for some have entertained angels unawares.”

Animal Fact: There is a species of kite, a type of diurnal raptor, that is called the “firehawk.” This is because they will pick up smoldering branches after a lightning strike or mid-wildfire and fly them to new areas. Researchers observed them doing this strategically to flush out prey, even spreading fires across manmade firebreaks or bodies of water.

And, of course, it’s an Aussie bird.