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Laurel stepped out of Verdant, into the still, relative silence that was Starling City, trying to catch her breath and gain her bearings. The evening had been—here she groped for a word and lamely settled on—trying. No, weird. Possibly flabbergasting.
My sister’s alive, she thought, alive. And whole.
At least, I hope she is.
“Got a light?” The voice startled her. It belonged to the blond man from before, Constantine. In the blinking streetlights of the club, the lines on his face looked deeper than they had before. He had a cigarette in one hand and was waiting, expectantly.
“Ah… yeah, I think so.” She dug into her purse and found an ancient matchbook with the Verdant logo on it, handed it to him. The sound of the match striking was somehow louder in the darkness. There were a million questions buzzing in her mind, but something in his bearing gave her pause. In his ragged trench coat and beat-up combat boots, the cigarette smoke pooling around him, he looked like he was just another guy she’d seen at an AA meeting, one of the many of them who’d substituted one addiction for another. He drew in another breath and exhaled again, staring at her through the half-fog.
“Go on, then. I know you want to ask.”
“Which question?” She let an ounce of sarcasm into her voice, and as she expected, he grinned.
“Lemme see: yes, that’s really your sister. She may take a while to recover, but it’s her. How’s your father taking it?”
As she tried to articulate a response, she caught herself in the first step of a pace, a technique that had served her well in court many times when she needed a quick moment to form an answer to a difficult question. Making sure her feet were planted firmly on the ground, she said, “He’s… well, he’s overjoyed right now, I think, but you have to understand, he’s not used to seeing this sort of thing. Any of what you do, that is. He’ll have even more questions than I do, I guess.”
“His sort usually does. Fortunately, I’ll be long gone by then. What does he think of your crime-fighting get-up?”
She bit back an unhappy bark of a laugh. “He’s not happy.”
“If it would help, I’d tell him I’d seen worse, but…” he gestured with both hands, the cigarette glowing brighter in the night. “Something tells me it’d be a waste of both our time.”
“Probably. With family, it’s hard to explain things,” she admitted. “You know what I mean?”
“Not from direct experience, no. But I’ve watched enough families to know what you’re talking about.”
This wasn’t the kind of information she expected, but it explained the aura of solitude that surrounded him like a second coat. After a moment, she asked, “So… can you tell me… that place we went. What was that?”
“The place your sister’s soul was trapped? I didn’t choose that. The soul that’s trapped and the trapper each have a hand in it, and that place…” His voice trailed off as he looked up at the sky. “That place had a lot of resonance for her, and for all of you, from the looks of it.”
“And that thing you were fighting?”
“What, that diet Darth Vader? The form the guardian chose. Poor taste there.”
“I see.” There were still a million unanswered questions she had, and they were all jostling for attention in her mind, one after the other. “Is this… a normal evening for you?”
He ground out the cigarette under one shoe. “Nah. Usually doing something way more dangerous.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. “Seriously?”
“Not if I can help it, but somehow, trouble’s always just around the corner. We’re old friends at this point.” He paused, as though he was chewing something unpleasant. “You don’t get to walk in these shoes without making a few enemies.”
I know how that is, she thought. Aloud, she said, “So, magic, huh?”
“You can call it that if you want. It’s a job.”
“Is it worth it?”
He took a step away, staring up into half-illumination of the streetlight. “You tell me. Is it worth it to have your sister back?”
“Yes,” she said, quietly. There was no need to hesitate and think the answer over as tears stung her eyes.
“Well, then. My work here is done.” He made a short, half-mock, half-real bow. “Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.” The words sounded ineffective even as she said them. There was so much that she really wanted to say: thank you for saving my sister, and for whatever you did for Oliver in the past, and it doesn’t matter how you did it, but you did. Somehow, though, this man didn’t seem to be someone who needed effusive praise, or any praise at all, really.
That’s definitely a trait I’m familiar with, too.
“Hey!” She called out as he began to walk away. “Hey, if you ever need help…”
“Of the crime fighting variety?” He glanced over his shoulder, amused.
“Sure, or the legal variety, or the… researching variety, I guess, whatever you call it, you should get in touch. I’d like to know more about what you do.”
“Would you, now?” He grinned again. A soft breeze blew past them, and she shivered. Somewhere in the background, she could hear the faint chatter inside the club, a distant police siren’s wail as yet another crisis started to brew in Starling City. She had to strain to hear his next words. “Careful. I might just take you up on that.”