johnconstantine-hellblazerâ:
Johnâs efforts at dowsing while the cafĂ© (before being rudely interrupted by Anton) had highlighted a few hotspots of concentrated magic. Two of the largest were a building downtown - which the tourist map had labelled as a nightclub - and another place in the theatre district.
Heâd check out the nightclub later, but the combination of magic and theatre inextricably brought one familyâs name to the forefront of Johnâs mind - Zatara.
There were other popular and famous stage magicians of course, but few blended real magic with stagecraft in quite the way that the Zatara family did, but it was Johnâs history with that family that gave him pause. Before anything else, he needed to know if she was here.
Taking a cab to the edge of the theatre district, John decided to walk the last couple of blocks and was immediately aware of promotional posters stuck to bill boards and plastered like layered mosaics on boarded up shopfronts.
~ See the AMAZING & MYSTICAL ZATARA SIBLINGS! ~ Join ZATANNA & ZACHARY ZATARA as they perform SPECTACULAR MAGIC in their first-ever joint live shows!
Their shared residency begins soon at The Majestic Theatre. Box office now open!
The some of the posters had clearly been up a while, as they were torn and peeling at the corners, so John had no idea when the shows had started, but the concentration of magic suggested that they were still going on⊠or something was.Â
Finally reaching the theatre, the place was a hive of activity. Work men in high visibility vests and hard hats were carrying timber and tools into the building through a side entrance, and the sounds of construction were coming from inside. John had spent enough time around the Zataras to know that they often changed their shows, adding in new elements, tricks and sets to make sure things didnât get stale (and to promote repeat attendance). It was likely these guys were working on something similar⊠and something big by the looks of it, which might explain the high concentration of mystical energies.
Whatever was going on, John wanted a closer look. Taking off his trench coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, John lit his cigarette, grabbed an abandoned hard hat and cast a cantrip under his breath as he followed a couple of workers inside. Some people looked his way, but quickly diverted their attention as the effects of the spell made them lose interest almost immediately. Â
John chuckled to himself. Sometimes it was more useful to be boring than to be invisible. With his Cloak of Disinterest firmly in place, the Laughing Mage started his exploration of the building.
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It had been, well there wasnât another word for it, awkward going to visit Zatanna a few weeks ago. The women hadnât been herself; sheâd reminded him of when heâd been grieving for his own death. Drink, distractions and an overall lack of self-care.
And she didnât have an Eddie Bloomberg to pull her out of it. So, shockingly, heâd somewhat stepped out. Cleaned the house, dealt with her agent and crew and set things in motion to helm shows in her stead while she recovered, however she could.
Between that and consistently checking in with her he felt spread somewhat thin but soldiered on with endurance built from years of solo tours in shitty dive clubs all over America.
One of his responsibilities was to ensure the design and construction of the new props for his show were going well. He performed a little differently from his cousin and everything needed to be perfect if he was filling in for her. Â
So work was progressing steadily, the staff knew what they were doing; heâd been in the city long enough and required their services for his own performances to trust their discretion and work ethic.
That didnât mean he wasnât checking in near-constantly to make sure everything was going smoothly. Thus far it seemed to be a productive afternoon until he felt something, a small ripple, something a year or so ago he may have missed entirely but now his skills were honed. Not by his cousin but by skilled enough teachers that he knew there was something to investigate. With surprisingly politeness he excused himself from speaking with a foreman and began weaving his way between the construction workers, looking about with a casual air until he noticed something; or rather, noticed himself not noticing something.
He had to close his eyes and concentrate, apply a little of his own power but when he looked again he found he could keep his eyes on a hard-hatted figure moving through the workers. And from the profile and whips of blond hair he knew exactly who it was. Hard to forget a face that had been one of the key influencers in his younger years till, like Zatanna, he dropped him the moment Uncle Giovanni passed.
With sure steps he closed the distance, waiting till there was a gap between them and workers and deftly smacked the hard hat off the otherâs head. âJohn Constantine. What the hell are you doing here?â he asked, tone carefully bland. Â















