Part XVII: Scientia Est Potentia

Chas pulled the taxi into a curling halt in front of John's apartment, and leaned heavily against the steering wheel. Jade sat in silence next to him.

Be home, John. Be the John Constantine without a life that you always are, be here, Chas thought to himself, Be here. We need you.

With a heavy sigh, he turned the key in the ignition and glanced at Jade. Her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed to be staring at someone, or something. Chas squinted against the glare of the late afternoon sun, through the windshield. A scattering of people strolled the sidewalks, but he could see nothing remarkable. Jade blinked twice, and then turned back to him.

"Well? Are we going in?"

Chas looked at her, slightly startled, "Yeah, uh, yeah." He opened his door and hopped out of the cab. Jade followed suit.

Angela was driving the weary road to the Twenty Lanes' Bowling establishment as John sat in the passenger seat staring warily at a small, leather-bound journal. He was turning it over and over in his hands, and—she could tell—testing it with his psychic force for enchantments, spells, and curses. Despite finding none of these, he placed it gingerly on the dashboard, leaning back in his seat and staring it down. Angela glanced over at him and sighed in slight exasperation.

"John, why don't you just open it?"

He blinked at her, snapping from his reverie, "Huh? Oh…I...yeah." John reached over and picked up the journal, untying the leather thong wrapped around it and flipping the book open. He showed the tattered pages to her—well, turned the open book toward her, anyway—and muttered, "It's in Latin. I don't read Latin."

Angela looked a little shocked, and John quickly amended, "Well, not very well, anyway." He paused, focusing on nothingness out the passenger window, "Always had Beeman for that."

Angela bit her lip uncomfortably, wondering whether or not she should say something regarding his friend's death.

"John, I…I'm sorry."

He turned to her and regarded her coolly before nodding curtly, "Chas'll be able to read it."

"Great, John. Where the hell are ya?" Chas muttered to himself, tossing his keys on the counter and dumping his share of Jade's shopping bags next to the table. Jade sat hers down next to them, and turned to Chas, a question in her eyes. He shrugged nervously.

"I guess…we should wait here. Something's…"

A look from Jade prompted him to go on, "…out there." Chas finished lamely. "I mean, something's going on and…well, John will know what to do." He finished the sentence with utter confidence—he had complete faith in his mentor.

"Well…while we're waiting for him, let's look for some information on this—" Jade faltered, still not over the shock, "—what happened. Does John have a computer?"

A snort was all she got as an answer from Chas, who was already on his knees in front of a cabinet under the sink, rooting through piles of dog-eared, leather-bound books. He tossed one out at her and Jade barely caught it before it hit her in the knees. She shrugged to herself and dusted off the hardcover of the book before setting it on the counter and leaning over it to decipher the tiny print.

"Hmmm…" Jade muttered to herself, "Ab aeterno ad majorem Dei—Chas?"

Chas, who was now standing, bent over his own book, across from her looked up, a curly bang falling into his eyes, "Hmm?"

"This is…in Latin."

"Yeah." Satisfied that he had successfully answered her query, Chas resumed his own reading.

"I don't read Latin, Chas."

Another glance up at her, and the same bang falling into his eyes, "Uh-huh…oh! Oh, yeah. I forgot, sorry…uh…well, here, I can give you a quick lesson, see, the verbs in Latin come after—"

"Chas!" Jade held up a hand and he stopped mid-sentence, "Chas, I don't need a lesson in Latin. I just…is there something else I can read?"

Chas looked puzzled, and then he ducked back down under the sink, reappearing shortly with a worn, leather-bound book. He handed it to Jade, "This is mostly English. Look for…rakshasa."

Jade nodded, and looked down at the book he'd given her. Silver inlay depicted a crude drawing of a profoundly evil creature against the cracked leather. She gulped softly, feeling the sheer power of the texts around her as she gazed on the simple demon drawing. She opened it to the first page, a prologue of sorts.

It is often believed that demons are of a simple race—one that derives its pleasure and sustenance from death and destruction, one that has no society, culture, or civilized organization. In a way, this is true. In another way, this is also the most dangerous assumption one can make. Demons, while not as earthly complex as humans—no supernatural being is as earthly complex, after all—are governed by rules and societal structure just as we are. Different, yet still governed—and to any involved in the occult, knowledge of these regulations and restrictions can be the only advantage one will ever have over the inevitably more powerful.

Footsteps on the stairs startled Jade, and she glanced up at Chas, who had yet to return to his book and was gazing intently at her. Instinctively, Jade reached across the counter and brushed the lock of hair back from his eyes, pausing slightly. Chas smirked at her, his gaze smoldering.

"CHAS!" John roared as he entered the apartment.

Jade pulled her hand back quickly and both jumped as if they'd been burned. Chas turned to face John, who had just come flying into the room as though something were attacking him, "I'm right here, John."

John looked slightly flustered, and swung his gaze toward Chas's voice, "Here," he tossed the journal at Chas who caught it as it bounced off his chest, "I need you to tell me what that says about a prophecy, any prophecy."

Chas blinked down at the journal for a second, a little disoriented, "Why couldn't you—oh. Is it Latin? Yeah, sure."

"John—today—there was a…a girl…oh god, there was a girl and—" Jade couldn't figure out how to put to words what they'd seen. She glanced at Chas, who seemingly had forgotten all about the earlier incident—and she realized that he'd taken what he'd said earlier very seriously—everything was fine, now that John Constantine was here. She could see the merit of that viewpoint—she had to admit that John brought a certain sense of security with him, but she was still shaken by what she'd seen

In Chas's point of view, not only was Constantine here, but he was asking for Chas's help. Also, when you'd been around Constantine for as long as he had, you tended to become slightly immune.

John rubbed his temples wearily, "Was it…crucifixion?"

Jade nodded, her eyes wide, "But it wasn't…well it was—"

"Sit down," John motioned to the chairs, "I need to figure out what this journal says, and then I'll explain everything."

Jade looked like she still wanted to say something, but she sat down anyway, pulling out a chair for the already engrossed Chas.

Approximately three hours later, it was dark outside. The table was littered with cards and toppled chess pieces, and John, Jade, and Angela were getting slightly impatient with Chas's progress. Chas was oblivious to the world, drowning in the beautiful dead language and making occasional notes on an old Subway napkin.

It was approximately seventeen minutes after this that Chas turned to three expectant faces and nodded grimly.

"Well?" John asked, impatiently, "And it says?"

Chas pushed the one-hundredth and sixty-eighth page under John's nose, "This is what you're looking for."

John nodded expectantly. Chas shoved his napkin over, next to the book, "Here's what it says."

"When the fires have been breached by the son of God for the second—wait a minute, this is the Prophecy of Laodi—" John was cut off by Chas's voice.

"—cea, yeah, I know." Chas muttered, "It looks like it's just as bad as I thought it was."

"But—" Angela interrupted, "Adila said that—"

"—it wasn't in effect." John finished, "So how does that work?"

Chas shrugged, "This is the only part that mentions the rakshasa, which we know by now are in the world. But…there is a forked prophecy before this; did your Adila know about that?"

"I'm going to guess, probably, yes," John said, "What's the fork?"

"It involves the oath of neutrality…and…Mammon." Chas was flipping back pages, "And…the Spear. I'm going to guess we already went through this." He paused, "Hey! It even mentions me dying."

John coughed and kicked Chas, who looked up to meet the startled eyes of Jade.

"Ohmygod…" she whispered, "Ohmygod I knew you were an—"

John coughed again and nodded, "One second, Jade, and we'll explain this all to you. Chas, the fork, we took the one that leads to Laodicea?"

Chas nodded.

"And rakshasa mean Laodicea."

Chas nodded again.

"Rakshasa?" Angela turned accusing eyes at Constantine, "What are the rakshasa?"

John ignored her, "And Laodicea means…bad things?"

Chas nodded once more.

"Bad things like, the end of the world."

More nodding.

"Like the book of Revelations, the end of the world."

Chas paused, "More like the book of Chemosh, but yes."

There was an unsteady silence as the group digested this.

Angela spoke, "Chemosh is…"

"The last book in the bible—" John began.

"—In Hell," Angela finished, "Of course."

"There's a little more to it," Chas muttered, "The Laodicea prophecy is only brought into effect by the personal vendetta of Lucifer himself…which, um…which means."

John stared at Chas.

"What the fuck…?"

Chas pushed the journal toward John, who struggled through the Latin sentences, "Fuck."

"Which means—" Chas began again, "That the prophecy—the end of the world, all this is—"

"My. Fault." John finished. "Oh, God." His head fell into his hands, and Jade stood up, her chair clattering loudly as it skidded across the wooden floor.

"Somebody…needs to explain…what the…fuck…is going on."