"I've known John a long time," said Chas, as he maneuvered the cab up the winding mountain road. He glanced over at Zed in the passenger seat. "He can be stubborn and downright insensitive sometimes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care."
Zed stared ahead at the dirt road. Her argument with John was still fresh in her mind. A part of her felt guilty, but she also felt better having finally called him out on his reckless actions. "It wouldn't hurt him to show a little more respect," she said.
Chas sighed. "Maybe. But in order for him to do what he does, he has to put up walls. Especially with you."
She glanced in his direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Chas shrugged. "Clearly he cares about you, a lot. But he can't let it get in the way of his judgment."
She nodded, but maintained a stern gaze out the window.
After a few more twists and turns up the rugged access road, Chas pulled the cab into the gravel lot of the ranger's station. John was there waiting, leaning against his truck and smoking a cigarette. When he saw them, he pushed off the truck and came around to Chas's side of the cab.
"What's the deal with the sergeant?" Chas asked as he climbed out of the driver's seat. Zed came around to the other side and looked at John, but the exorcist was focused on Chas.
"According to Lori, he's been exhibiting suspicious behavior," John said. He tossed his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out in the gravel. "I thought you two could check out his office."
Zed nodded towards the two cruisers parked by the station. "How are we supposed to do that?"
John glanced at her, but then looked back at Chas. "Distract him. I don't know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his playing card, handing it to Chas. "You'll need this, too. Technically the park is closed to visitors."
Chas nodded and took the card. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to go on a little hike up the mountain, see if I can't deal with this demon."
"You're going alone?" Zed asked. The irritation in her voice was mixed with concern.
John's eyes narrowed and he looked at the ground. "I'll be fine."
Zed was going to argue, but she thought better of it. "Just...don't do anything stupid, okay?"
He smirked, and for the first time, really looked at her. "Can't make any promises there, love."
"Be careful, John," said Chas.
John nodded to his friend and made a move towards his truck, but paused in front of Zed. He looked at her, and she saw a hint of sadness in his expression. For a moment, she thought he might say something. The pain and longing in his dark eyes suggested he was holding on to unspoken words. But instead of saying those words, he gave her a quick nod and continued towards his truck, grabbing his leather bag out of the back and heading in the direction of the hiking trail.
Once he had disappeared among the trees, Zed turned to Chas. "Are we really going to let him go alone?"
Chas shrugged. "I don't think we have a choice."
They entered the ranger's station, and Zed wasn't surprised to see Lori sitting at the front desk. She looked up at them and smiled, but then her expression changed to one of concern. "You folks know the park is closed, correct? At least until we investigate those fires further."
"Right," Chas said, walking up to the desk. He presented Lori with the playing card. "That's why we're here, actually."
The game warden looked at the card with a puzzled expression. "U. S. Fish and Wildlife? I didn't realize we'd asked for your help."
Chas cleared his throat. "Er—your sergeant did, actually. Is he here today?"
Lori nodded and motioned towards a narrow hallway leading to the back of the station. "His office is at the very end of the hall."
They were about to head down the hallway, when Lori spoke again. "Where's your other agent—John?"
Zed shot her an icy glare, but the game warden didn't seem to notice.
"Doing some research out in the field," Chas replied quickly, seeing the irritated expression on Zed's face. They walked down the hallway and came to the last door with a gold nameplate reading 'Sergeant Greg Gehring.' Chas knocked. "Mr. Gehring?"
A few seconds later the door opened and Gehring stood there, looking at them with his stern gaze. "Yes?" he asked. Not only was his tone intimidating, but the man was tall—he was eye-level with Chas.
Zed stepped forward. "We wanted to talk to you about the fires."
Gehring eyed them for a moment, then asked, "And who are you, exactly?"
"Federal officers," Chas replied, holding up the playing card.
Once Gehring had scrutinized the ID, he stepped back and motioned for them to enter his small office. "My apologies. Please, come in."
The sergeant's desk was situated next to an open window, where a slight breeze came in and rustled a stack of papers pinned beneath a paper weight. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and on another wall were mounted deer antlers and a framed certificate of some sort. Gehring motioned to the two armchairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
They sat down, and Chas immediately began observing the tiny details of the office. At first glance, nothing was out of the ordinary. No strange symbols, no sulfur smell. On the window sill, there even sat a framed photograph of what appeared to be Gehring with his wife and two daughters.
Zed must have noticed the normalcy of the office as well, because she shot a glance at Chas. He shrugged in response as Gehring took a seat in his chair behind the desk. "These fires have everyone on edge," he said, pulling open one of the drawers in his desk. He reached in and handed a stack of photographs to Chas. "These are some pictures taken of the three forest fires we had—all within a three-day time span."
Chas looked through the photographs as Zed leaned over to see. She recognized all of it—the blackened trees, the dry creek bed, the barren soil. Chas looked up at Gehring and handed the stack of photos to Zed. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"
The sergeant shook his head. "I'm as dumbstruck as you are. Sure, we've had minor fires over the years, but those were usually just hikers leaving their campfires lit or someone dropping a cigarette in a pile of dead leaves. Nothing of this magnitude. Plus, we haven't been able to even trace the fires to a single point of ignition."
"Huh." As Chas listened to Sergeant Gehring, he couldn't help but think how honest and professional the warden sounded. He didn't get the feeling that Gehring was lying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zed throw him another glance. She must have gotten the same impression.
"Sergeant Gehring," Zed started. "We heard there were fires in a few buildings on the park grounds. Do you have the police reports from those by chance?"
"Ah, yes." Gehring stood up and headed over to the door. "They're in the file room, give me one minute." The door closed behind him. Chas looked at Zed.
"You're a genius," He said.
They both hopped up and began scouring the office for clues. Chas searched through the books lined up on the shelves. There were books about wildlife management, histories of Clingmans Dome, and identifying the native plant species. Nothing about summoning demons. Zed began rifling through the contents of Gehring's desk, yanking drawers open and digging through piles of papers and office supplies. She, too, came up with nothing. The office was small—there weren't many other places to look. Zed scanned the walls, and even checked behind the framed certificate, but there was nothing.
"I think this may be a dead end, Chas." Zed shook her head and sat back down in her chair. Chas sat down, too, just as Gehring returned holding a small pile of folders.
"This is everything the police sent me about all of the fires," he said, returning to his seat behind the desk. He split the stack of folders and handed each to Zed and Chas. "They haven't come up with very much either. We had three fatalities in the lodge fire, and autopsies confirmed COD was carbon monoxide poisoning consistent with smoke inhalation."
Zed nodded and glanced through the reports and photographs. She saw the charred rubble of the lodge, burnt to a crisp. The blackened remains of furniture were strewn around a seemingly endless stretch of beams, wood panels, and broken glass. Then, Zed saw the black figure. She gasped and her hand flew over her mouth.
"What is it?" Gehring asked.
"N—nothing," she stammered. "It just looks like a horrible fire." The black figure was partially hidden behind a section of wall that was still standing. Anyone else looking at it might have assumed it to be debris of some sort. But Zed recognized the long, claw like fingers and the speck of yellow that might have been one of the demon's eyes. Shaking her head to rid herself of the horrible image, she handed the folder back to Gehring. Chas eyed her with concern.
They continued talking to Gehring for some time, and at no point did Chas or Zed get the impression the sergeant was trying to hide something. He expressed concern for the victims and legitimate confusion as to the source of the fires. Zed's intuition told her that the sergeant wasn't their man.
The trail leading up to Clingmans Dome was steep, and John had to stop several times along the way to lean against a tree and catch his breath. He laughed to himself on one such occasion—his smoking habits coupled with the high altitude probably weren't the best combination. Signs posted intermittently along the trail showed the increasing elevation. At around 6500 feet, he came to the site of one of the forest fires. The lush, green forest gave way suddenly to a gray, barren landscape. He walked along, inspecting the blackened stumps, the dry creek bed, even the corpse of a dead animal. The blackened dirt beneath his boots crunched with every step, and the noise echoed eerily in the emptiness around him. There was definitely an ominous energy about the place—this was no natural fire.
John continued along the trail, which eventually lead back into a patch of green forest. A sign along the trail read 6600 feet—not much further to go. Gradually, the atmosphere changed. At lower elevations, it had been sunny and fair. Now, the air was cool and crisp, and a thick gray fog began to weave its way through the pine trees. John paused when he came to another patch of barren land—the site of a more recent fire. The piles of dead brush and logs were still smoldering, and as John picked his way across the charred earth, he could feel heat rising up from the forest debris. He stopped, cleared an area on the ground with his boot, and set his leather bag down in the gray dust.
Although the appearance of the fire-ravaged wasteland and the sudden drop in temperature were startling, it was the deathly silence that sent a shiver down the exorcist's spine. He didn't scare easily, but the eerie quiet made him uneasy. Determined to shake off the feeling and focus on the task at hand, John shrugged his shoulders and reached into his bag. He pulled out the old spell book and turned to page 483. After taking a moment to study the image next to the spell, John grabbed a blackened stick from a nearby pile of brush and traced a large circle in the ash and dust. He added the intricate geometric touches, and then stepped back to survey his work. If all went according to plan, the demon would be immobilized by the symbol. Now, he just had to summon it.
The exorcist pulled a ceramic bowl from his bag and a pocket knife from his coat pocket. With the knife, he cut a deep slit in the palm of his hand, wincing as the blood dripped into the bowl. He spoke a few words in Sumerian, and pressed a thumb to the wound on his hand. More blood streamed down his palm and into the bowl, forming a dark red pool. He looked up and waited, but was answered only by the silence of the barren mountainside.
He twitched his head in annoyance. "You want more, you bloody sod?" After wrapping his bleeding hand in some cloth, he grabbed his pocket knife again and cut his other hand, cursing as the pain hit him. The blood nearly filled the bowl now. He chanted the Sumerian spell again, then looked around at the blackened landscape.
The wind howled, and the fog grew thicker. John held his bleeding hand, still swearing as it throbbed in pain. "Show yourself, you bastard!" He yelled into the gray stillness.
"John Constantine. I've been waiting for you."
The voice sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he looked up. Through the fog, a dark, hooded figure stepped towards him. The glint of white fangs and flash of yellow eyes told him the spell had worked. The demon now stood in his circle, eyeing him with glassy orbs that seemed to penetrate his very being. As the fog cleared, John could see the pale white skin and the grotesque humanoid features of the entity's countenance.
With a smirk, John stood up from his kneeling position, still clutching his bleeding hand. "Hello there, Abraxas."
