“Well, it’s just that, judging by the way things have gone so far, she’s probably a loon who hates you.”
“Nah, me and Zatanna go way back.”
“Sure. I expect you probably pinched her best trick or something.”
“This is her house,” John said, ignoring Tim’s comment. They were in a neighborhood of brightly painted houses, all colors of candy. He led Tim up the walk of a pink house with blue shutters. Large rosebushes lined the path.
Tim followed reluctantly. He admired Zatanna, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to discover that the real person wasn’t quite as cool as the person he’d seen on TV. And he didn’t want to get on her bad side by showing up at dawn without an invitation and with John Constantine. Even Yo-yo seemed hesitant. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
John gave him a wicked grin. “What’s the matter, kid, don’t you trust me?” He rang the doorbell.
“At least we’re not just barging in this time,” Tim muttered. “She can slam the door in our faces if she wants.”
A tall, dark-haired woman wearing a big T-shirt and leggings opened the door. She looked sleepy.
She took a minute to focus, then a huge grin spread across her face. “John? John Constantine! I can’t believe it’s you!” She threw her arms around him, gripping him in a great bear hug. “What brings you to San Francisco?”
“Hey, Zatanna.”
Is that relief in his voice? Tim wondered. It seemed John hadn’t been quite as sure of his reception as he’d pretended.
Zatanna released John and gave his arm a playful smack. “What has it been—two years?” She grinned at Tim. “So who’s your buddy?”
Zatanna looked friendly, Tim observed. And a lot more normal than Madame X. She was a pretty woman, a little younger than John. She reminded Tim of a grown-up Molly.
“I’m Tim,” he said. “Timothy,” he corrected himself. Timothy sounded more grown-up. “Timothy Hunter. I saw you on Jonathan Ross.”
Zatanna’s brow furrowed, then her eyes showed that she remembered who Jonathan Ross was. “Oh right! Britain’s answer to Letterman. That was fun. Come on in, you two.”
Zatanna ushered them into her house. The hallway was painted a rosy pink, and wooden pegs held jackets, shoulder bags, hats, and colorful scarves. She brought them into a bright living room—sun streamed through the gauzy curtains, filling the room with light. Flower pots filled all the windows, and there were large plants nearly as big as trees in the corners. It was like walking into a garden. Yo-yo immediately made himself at home on the windowsill.
“It’s so sunny here!” Tim blurted, feeling warmed by the light. After the gloom of London and the dark night of hitchhiking, Zatanna’s living room was dazzling. Still, it seemed foolish to say out loud, and Tim flushed.
“Yeah, California is famous for it,” Zatanna said. She didn’t seem to take any notice of Tim’s embarrassment. “Of course, San Francisco gets its share of rain and fog. That should make you feel right at home.” She flopped onto a large futon that was covered with embroidered pillows.
“So Tim,” she said, patting the spot on the couch beside her. Tim crossed to her and sat down. “What are you doing with my off-white knight in not-so-shining armor?” She gave John a mischievous grin. Tim could tell she enjoyed teasing John, and that he liked it. She seemed to be an equal match for Constantine.
John leaned against a bookshelf and waved a fern frond away from his face. “Tim has the potential to be the greatest magician that the modern world has ever seen. So me, Doc Occult, and the Stranger, along with the nut from Boston—”
“Who?”
“He calls himself Mister E.”
“Oh, right. Him.” She sounded dismissive, as if she didn’t think much of Mister E. Tim tucked that bit of info away for future reference.
“Well, we got together and we’re showing him stuff,” John explained. “The idea being that he learns enough about the world of magic to decide whether that’s what he wants from life or not.”
Tim picked up a pillow and set it across his lap. He stared down at it, as if the embroidered flowers were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen.
There it was, then. All laid out. These four men—the “Trenchcoat Brigade,” as Constantine called them—sought him out because he really and truly could become powerful. The most powerful. Bigger than Merlin even. But it was up to him to decide if that’s what he wanted. Well, why wouldn’t he?
“Sounds like fun,” Zatanna said.
“Only trouble is, people are trying to kill him,” John told her. “We’re trying to find somewhere to hide that’s safe, until the whole thing blows over.”
Oh yeah. Tim remembered the part about people wanting to kill him. That put a damper on everything. But if I’m so powerful, he thought, can’t I protect myself from my enemies? Though he supposed that if he could, they would have shown him how already.
“Why don’t you guys stay here!” Zatanna said. She put a hand on Tim’s arm. “I’d be delighted to have you.”
Tim nodded a thank-you but couldn’t quite meet her friendly smile. What if it doesn’t blow over? Tim worried. Would he have to stay in hiding forever?
Zatanna must have sensed his discomfort, because she stood and changed the subject. “Oh—John. I just remembered, there’s a letter for you on the table.”
“Letter?” John seemed surprised.
“Yeah, the envelope was there when I came down this morning. Weird, huh?” She twisted her hair into a loose braid and grinned. “I suppose that should have warned me that the British were invading.”
John crossed to the table, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Great-looking owl,” Zatanna said to Tim. “Did you make him yourself?”
“No, Dr. Occult did,” Tim admitted. If he was so magical, why couldn’t he do a simple trick like that? He looked up at Zatanna. “I couldn’t believe it when you made flowers grow out of Jonathan Ross’s ears on TV,” he said. “Can you teach me to do that?”
“Oh bloody hell,” John sputtered. He whirled around so fast, the tails of his trench coat flapped. “Take care of Tim until I get back, can you, love?”
“What?” Tim asked.
“What?” Zatanna echoed.
John crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. “Honestly, I can’t leave them alone for five minutes.” He seemed really mad.
“John, where are you going?” Zatanna asked.
“India,” John replied grimly. “Calcutta probably. See ya, darlin’. ’Bye, Tim. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Without another word, he bolted out of the house.
Zatanna and Tim hurried to the front door after him. “India? How long will you be gone?” Zatanna called after John.
He gave a wave without turning around, and then vanished into the traffic.
“But what am I supposed to do with…” Zatanna’s voice trailed off as she caught Tim’s expression. She smiled and shrugged. “What’s the use. He’ll be back when he gets back, I suppose.”
Tim didn’t like the feeling that he was imposing. “Look, I’m really sorry about this. I can go.”
“No,” Zatanna insisted. She put a hand on his shoulder and firmly turned him around, shutting the door behind them. “You’re only, what—thirteen years old? And they’re trying to kill you. You shouldn’t be on your own. Though you’re a lot more grown-up than your pal Constantine,” she added, ruffling his hair.
Tim laughed and felt relieved.
“Now, when was the last time you ate?” Zatanna asked.
“I’m not sure,” Tim replied. “Traveling with Constantine, time goes really funny. If you know what I mean.”
“Mmm. And I doubt you’ve had a shower since you left England. So if you head upstairs, you’ll find the bathroom on your left, and I’ll have breakfast ready for you when you come down. You can leave the owl with me. Now go.”
Tim climbed the stairs. Pictures of Zatanna performing lined
the upstairs hallway. I’m in the house of a real celebrity, he thought. I wish I could tell Molly about this!
The bathroom was full of pink and lavender soaps and bath salts and other girly things. Tim undressed, took off his glasses, and turned on the water. The faucets worked differently than in his home in London, but he soon figured out which was hot, which was cold, and how to adjust them. He let the water and steam pound the miles and confusion from his skin.
He stepped back out into the now steamy bathroom and wrapped himself in a towel. He didn’t think he should borrow Zatanna’s toothbrush, so he squirted some toothpaste onto his finger and rubbed his teeth with it.
“I’ve left clean clothes outside the door,” Zatanna called through the bathroom door.
Tim spit into the sink. “Okay.”
He waited until he heard her footsteps going down the stairs, then opened the door a crack and pulled the clothing into the bathroom. He dressed and went down to the kitchen.
“Um, this may be a silly question,” he said, “but where did you get boys’ clothes? In my size?”
“Magic,” she said simply, as if that were the normal, expected answer.
“Oh.”
Zatanna didn’t elaborate, so Tim didn’t ask anything else. He sat at the table. The kitchen was sunny too—and painted bright yellow, with stencils running up by the ceiling. Plants sat in pots here too, but he thought they might be the kind used in cooking, because the whole room smelled spicy. Zatanna stood at the stove, scrambling something in a pan. She expertly flipped it onto a plate and set it in front of him. Whatever it was, it smelled great!
“Okay, I’ve made you breakfast,” she declared. “It’s vegetarian, I’m afraid, but I think you’ll like it. Yo-yo’s asleep in the attic for the day.”
“How did you know his name’s Yo-yo?”
“Magic.”
Tim left it at that and shoveled the food into his mouth. He had no idea how starved he actually was until he’d begun to eat. “This is absolutely incredible,” he said, his mouth full. “I wish my dad could cook like this. Did you make the food by magic?”
Zatanna laughed. It was a warm, friendly, full-out laugh. Not a little silly tee-hee or giggle. “No, I made it the regular way.” She dropped the pan into the sink and turned on the water. “Say,” she said, turning to face him. “Is there anyone you need to phone?”
“I dunno.” He stared at the tines of his fork as if they would tell him what to do. “Maybe I should ring my dad. John said they’d taken care of all that, but I ought to let him know I’m okay.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Zatanna said.
She went back to washing dishes, and Tim finished his veggie breakfast. He carried the plate to the sink. “Should I phone now?”
“No time like the present,” Zatanna said. “There’s a phone in the living room.”
She explained how to dial an international call, and Tim went into the other room. He found the phone, punched in all the numbers, and listened to the comforting and familiar double ring of British Telecom.
“Hi, Dad,” Tim said as soon his father picked up.
“Tim! How’s Brighton?”
That’s strange, Tim thought. Why would he think I’m in Brighton? “I’m not in Brighton, Dad.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for his dad’s shocked reaction. “I’m in San Francisco.”
“Yeah, it’s raining here as well. How’s your Auntie Blodwyn, then? And the kids?”
Tim held the phone away from his ear and stared at it. It was as if his dad hadn’t heard him right. Or at all. Was there something wrong with the connection? “I’m in San Francisco, Dad,” he repeated, louder. “I’m staying with Zatanna. You know, the famous magician.” His dad would know who she was—they had watched her on television together.
“Well, that’s good. Don’t lose too much money on the pier. I know how much you love the amusements there. I’ll see you when you get back, then. Cheers, lad.”
“But Dad—”
Tim heard the click on the other end and his dad was gone.
“How’s your father?” Zatanna asked. She stood in the doorway of the living room, light from the kitchen streaming in behind her.
Tim continued to stare at the phone. “He thinks I’m in Brighton. I told him I wasn’t, and he didn’t hear me.” He put the receiver back down with a shaky hand. He didn’t want Zatanna to see him freak out, but the conversation had really unsettled him. “This is really weird.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was hard. “I mean, it’s okay when I’m with John. When you’re with him, the weird stuff seems almost normal, you know?”
He looked at Zatanna to see if she understood what he meant. “I know,” she said.
“But now that he’s gone…I spoke to my dad and he didn’t hear me, Zatanna.” Tim sank down onto the futon. He didn’t think his legs would hold him up anymore, they were shaking so hard. For the first time since this crazy adventure began, the first time since he stepped through that magical doorway, he felt really scared.
Zatanna sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Tim. It will all be fine,” she assured him. “It’s just all new. A lot to get used to. But you’re not alone. Constantine will come back for you. He may seem unreliable and all that, but he will come back.”
Tim pushed his glasses back up and nodded. She did understand how he was feeling—he was sure of it. He liked how it felt to have her hand on his arm and hear her speak so soothingly. It was like having his mom back for just a minute.
“Say—do you want to go to a party?” she asked. “You’re under my protection and I won’t let any harm come to you.”
Tim looked up at her. “A party?”
“A Halloween party, to be precise!”
He grinned. “Wicked!”
“It should be fun. I got the invitation last night. I hadn’t planned to go, but…” She gave his arm a pat. “I have to do my best to entertain my honored guest! Besides, John was planning to introduce you to some of the most prominent practitioners of magic in the country. I might as well take you out and show you a few more.”
“Brilliant.” Going to a party with a famous magician—a celebrity—that would be amazing! One for the scrapbook, that’s for sure.
Zatanna stood up. “So why don’t you take a nap. You must be exhausted from all this travel.”
“Sounds good.” She was right. Though he’d slept briefly in the car, every muscle in his body moaned for rest—and his brain would definitely welcome the opportunity to blink off.
“The guest room is right next to the bathroom. It’s blue.”
“Is every room in your house painted a different color?” Tim asked as he headed up the stairs.
“Yup,” Zatanna answered. “And I change them all the time.” She gave Tim a wink. “One of the benefits of magic. I can redecorate anytime I want without all the fuss.”
Tim went back upstairs and found the guest room. He kicked off his sneakers, tossed his glasses onto the side table, and crawled into bed in the peaceful blue room. He stretched out and was asleep without even pulling down the window shades. He fell into a deep and blissfully dreamless sleep.
Chapter Six
TIM WOKE WITH A START.
“Where am I?” He sat up and peered around the dark room. His heart pounded. “How did I get here?” His hands fumbled and found a lamp. He switched it on and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table. His breathing gradually returned to normal. All those plants; the stars painted on the ceiling, the good smells coming up from downstairs. He lay back down, his arms behind his head. Right. I’m in Zatanna’s guest room. And soon, I’ll be going with her to a supercool party.
There was a sharp knock on the door. “Tim?” Zatanna called. “Are you up?”
“Yeah.” Tim swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his shoes. He was still a little groggy.
“Well, come on down for dinner, and then we’ll be off.”
“Vegetarian?” Tim asked.
“You bet,” Zatanna said. “Veggie lasagna. Smells good, doesn’t it?”
Tim nodded and sat down at the place mat that had a big glass of milk sitting on it. The other one had a glass of wine. Tim didn’t need magic to know which was intended for him.
Zatanna sat opposite him and held up her glass. “To new friends,” she toasted. Tim clinked her wineglass with his milk glass. He took a swig—and gagged.
“Oh dear,” Zatanna said. “I guess you’re not ready for soy milk yet.” She crossed to the fridge and brought over a can of ginger ale. “How’s this instead?”
Tim flipped open the soda and took a huge gulp. He swallowed. “Better!” he said.
“I guess the vegetarian thing needs to be introduced more gradually,” Zatanna said with a grin. “Kind of like my mission to get Constantine to quit smoking!”
She served the lasagna and Tim scarfed it down. “Not all vegetarian stuff is awful,” he admitted. “This is good!”
“Glad you like it.”
Tim had seconds of the lasagna, and did the washing up while Zatanna changed for the party. Yo-yo helped straighten up by using his talons, bringing the place mats to the sideboard and dropping the paper napkins into the garbage. Once they were done, they went into the living room to wait for Zatanna.
“Ta-da!” Zatanna posed on the stairs. “How do I look?”
Tim’s eyes nearly bugged out. The gorgeous magician wore a skimpy little outfit—the least amount of clothes Tim had ever seen on a girl up close. She looked very different in it than in the sweatshirt and leggings she had worn all day. Then he realized—the shiny top hat, spangly leotard, and black fishnet tights were exactly what she’d worn on TV.
“Is that your magic outfit?” Tim asked.
“My professional attire, yes.” She came down the stairs, crossed to Tim, and pulled candy from his ear. She handed it to him with a grin. “It’s kind of silly, but it’s effective. And what’s expected.”
The Invitation Page 7