THREE

.

John took the plastic-wrapped candle from his bag and set it on the wooden table. Shifting his bag to the floor, he picked up an empty jar. He inspected it before putting it down again. His attention went back to the candle and then he unwrapped it slowly.

Nayda watched from a few feet away. "And this will help us find out who did this? A candle?"

"Should do," John said, as if to himself. He made sure not to touch it, preferring to keep the plastic between his fingers and the wax. He stood it up and then peered at the burnt wick. Pulling his lighter from his pocket, he flipped it open, considering something.

"What are you waiting for?" Nayda asked.

Zed and Chas, their arms folded as they stood back where they judged it to be slightly safer, shared a glance.

"Does this just give you a name?" Zed asked.

"Yes." John raised the Zippo, aiming for the wick. He hesitated.

"Nothing else, right?" Zed added. "I mean, nothing else can come out of that candle, can it?"

John closed his eyes and huffed in irritation. "No," he said firmly. "Stop interrupting, will you?"

Zed looked at Chas. He shrugged. She turned back to watch.

John flicked the lighter. He watched the spark, the flame, the wick catch and dance. He dropped the Zippo to the table and picked up the empty jar, studying the smoke. "Creatures of the underworld, lords of the garrisons, servants of the Fallen, I speak to you," he said aloud.

Nayda took a step back.

"Show me what was," he demanded. "Show me whose presence you captured. Show me whom I seek."

The candle burnt brighter. The smoke curling up toward the ceiling turned black. It whipped and fought, struggled and flipped.

John held the jar upside down over the top and watched the darkness float upward, into the open mouth. He waited, something making him shift his weight from one foot to the other, as it steadily filled.

"Come on, come on," he hissed. "Bastard!" He slammed the jar onto the table. Nayda flinched a whole two feet backwards. John stood, nursing his wrist. He blew the candle out hastily. He flexed his hand, not looking at it as he eyed the black smoke that filled the upside down jar.

Zed came up to his side, watching it. "You ok?"

"Got a bit hot, that's all," he said. "Cheeky bugger's not going to make it easy." He went to his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it under the jar and then waited, his hands on the table either side of it.

It was silent for a long moment.

He pulled the paper back out carefully, keeping the jar tight against the table. He lifted the paper to the light above him, peering at it.

"Anything?" Zed dared.

"Not a bloody thing," he heaved. "It's in there. I just can't get it out."

"What do you mean, it's in there?" Nayda asked. "The thing that killed Roberta?"

"I mean whatever it was that the candle captured, some tiny part of it is inside that smoke," John said. "It's not playing fair - this is supposed to draw it out, give me a sigil that leads to the name of the entity - something. It's just refusing to co-operate." He huffed, putting the paper on the table and glaring at it.

"Isn't there some other way?" Chas asked, coming to the table. "I mean… So the paper doesn't work. It won't mark it, right? But will it mark something else?"

John looked at his right forearm. He lifted it, rubbing it absently with his other hand. "Oh it'll mark something else alright." He put his hand out for the jar.

Zed grabbed his left wrist. "Stop."

"Let go."

"John - stop," she urged. "You think you're going to let that thing touch your arm? Where Pazuzu burnt his mark into you? Don't you dare."

His face twisted into one of anger. "How else do we find this thing?"

"Pendejo," she accused.

He pulled his wrist free but it was to point at her. "I know what that means, too."

"You can't do this, John," Chas said from behind her.

"Oh here we go," John sneered, his head tilting. "Daddy's found his trousers now Mam's started up."

"John," Nayda said quietly. "I don't know what's happening here, but… I think you should listen to them."

John closed his eyes, lifted his chin and jerked it to the right, and then let out a long breath. He released the jar and put his hands in his pockets. "Fine," he snapped. "So how do we get the name out?" he demanded, turning to the room at large. "Which one of you experienced mages knows the right words, the right arguments to do the hocus-pocus and ride on in there and show it who's boss? Eh?" He looked around at them all. "This isn't something you can just—"

Zed lifted her palm. "I'll do it."

"What? No," Chas said hastily.

"Absolutely not," John said. "You are off your head if you think you're putting your hand anywhere near that."

"I can do this," she warned, her face dark.

"Can you, Zed?" John argued. "That's a demon in there - part of one. Once you touch that you'll feel what it felt, you'll see what it saw - as it was killing a human being. Trust me, that is not a clean feeling and you will never, ever wash it off!"

She stepped up to him, shoving her face into his. "I'm not afraid."

"You bloody well should be!" he shouted back. She didn't even blink. "It's not like the movies, love! That thing will use you to amuse itself - you'll be one giant playground, only the rides will be your self-respect and your hope, and it'll be eating soul, not popcorn!"

"It's only part of a demon," she shot back, with just as much anger. "And I've met worse," she added. He stared at her, lips pursed as if afraid to open again, the full force of his anger flooding out toward her in waves. She let it flow over her, until she realised it wasn't just anger - it was desperation.

"I am not letting you do this," John growled.

"You don't decide for me," she said, making her anger settle. "Tell me you have another way, John."

He put his hands on his hips, glaring.

She lifted her chin. "You don't, do you?"

His eyes narrowed, his mouth sealed shut, something rolled around his head as it tilted at her in futile rage.

"You don't," she said quietly. "So stand aside. I can do this."

"No," Chas said suddenly.

Zed didn't move, but John turned his head to look at him. "Will you talk some sense into—. Oh sodding hell."

The room was suddenly a lifelike painting, as if one of Zed'z pictures had been turned 3D; Nayda was stock-still, looking concerned, one hand over her mouth. Zed was angry, her eyes piercing the thin air where John's head had been. Chas was frozen in the act of lifting a hand to argue.

And next to him was Manny, quietly smiling angel that he was. He had his hands folded in front of him, watching John with his unusual eyes.

"Oh what do you want?" John grumped.

Manny smiled as he opened his hands in surrender. "What are we fighting today, John? Demons? Evil creatures? The First of the Fallen, even? Or friends?" he asked. John spun away from the table, his hands on his hips, to shake his head. Manny walked up to Zed. "Your friend, here," he added, as he appraised her face. "She's committed. She's dedicated. She's truly serious about this."

"She should be committed if she's seriously thinking about sticking her hand in that bloody jar," John grumbled.

"Not the jar, John," he said, turning to look at him. "To this… this life she has here."

"You call this a life?"

"In comparison."

"To what?"

Manny clasped his hands, pointing both index fingers at him. "I'll let you think about that."

John went to the iron staircase, sitting on the penultimate step. "You're not helping."

"She's trying to. But you won't let her."

"Because she has no idea what she's getting herself into," he shot back. "And you shouldn't be encouraging her."

"Strictly speaking, I'm not doing anything," Manny smiled. He waited, but John ran a hand through his hair, grumbling to himself. Manny walked over and crouched in front of him, getting John's angry eyes in return. "You should have seen her, John. When your friend was exorcising you. She didn't flinch, didn't back down. She was going to see it through to the end."

"That's what worries me."

"You heard her - you don't get to decide for her," Manny said. "If you did, she wouldn't be here at all, would she? You'd chase her away, just like everyone else."

John's expression turned resentful. He looked over at the crowd of frozen people. "Chas would still be here."

"No, John, he wouldn't," Manny said, straightening up again. "You would have sent him home to his wife, and his daughter, and then you'd get yourself killed."

"You can't kill me; I'm already dead," he mused, under his breath.

Manny tilted his head at him. "Is that so. And yet you try to protect her from anything and everything. Why is that, John? Is she the win to make up for all your other failures?"

John glared at him. "Oh sod off. Aren't there some prayers you need to answer somewhere?"

"Who says I'm not," he shrugged.

"You want me to let her do this."

"I want you to realise you don't control everyone, John."

"Me? I've never controlled a bloody thing."

"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it," Manny smiled. "Let her help you, John. You know…" He twisted to look round at Nayda, "I've heard it said that the ladies like it when you're not too big to ask for help."

John grinned at his shoes suddenly, a wry, cynical approximation. "You are one manipulation away from being a demon, do you know that?"

"What? Who is?" Chas asked. He looked around, then turned and caught sight of John on the far steps. "How did you get over there?"

John stood up, much to the surprise of Nayda and Zed. He looked at the younger woman. "It looks like… and I can't believe I'm saying this… but I do need your help, Zed. So go on then," he said wearily. "Fill your boots."

"Manny?" she guessed. "Was he here?"

He nodded. "So go on. Just… don't say I didn't warn you."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What just happened?" Nayda asked.

Zed looked at her. "Don't ask." She put her hands to the table and leant over the jar to peer in through the base. "So I just pick this up and put my hand in the smoke, right?"

"Right," John said. His hands went back into his pockets and wandered up to the table. "Chas, Nayda - stay back. If anything gets in, she won't know her own strength."

"Then it makes sense if I help her," Chas said.

"Except you've never been possessed," John said ruefully. "I'll stay with her. You two - give us some space, yeah? We don't know how much of the presence is still in that smoke."

Chas put a hand to Nayda's arm. He pulled but she stood her ground. "You be careful, you two," she urged. Then she let herself be guided back, putting a good ten feet between them and the table.

Zed put her hand on the jar. John stood next to her. "You know," he breathed, for her ears only, "it's not too late to back out of this."

"No way," she said stiffly. "This killed somebody."

"Exactly." He paused. "Even I don't know how much of that demon's imprint, or will, got caught in the smoke. There may just be an impression of it in there. But if it's not…" He sniffed in discomfort. "If there's a part of it in there… Once you get in, it'll try to get into you. Don't let it. If it does get in, you'll have to get it out. We won't be able to help you."

"I understand."

He raised his eyebrows at her, then shook his head. "Fine."

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she whisked the jar up a few inches. She kept it upside down, watching the smoke swirl around inside. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slid her fingers up into the jar.

There was the tiniest click, like a spark of static. She cried out and dropped the vessel. John scrambled to catch it and set it down on the table again, safely upside down. He held it still, turning to watch her.

She straightened up and looked at him. Her gaze went to her hand, then back to him. Her face began to morph into shock - and then horror. "Oh my god…"

"Zed - Zed," he snapped. "Focus on you. Make it your enemy. It is not on your side."

"It's - it's - horrible," she whispered, her eyes wide and glazed. "So… much… pain."

"Zed!" he shouted into her face. "It's not you! That's not your pain! It's nothing. It's nothing compared to you! Do you understand me!"

"Help her," Nayda whispered. She took a step forward.

Chas grabbed her by the arms and kept her by his side. "We can't."

Zed's breathing sped up. She looked upward, starting to shake. "I can feel it," she whimpered. "I can feel it. Oh it hurts - John - it's in so much pain - someone - someone - trapped it inside its own pain—"

"What is it, Zed?" he demanded.

"Help it, John," she whimpered. "Help it!"

"What is it? Can you see a name?"

"You!" she cried. "You tell me! You tell me your name!" She shook harder. She put her hands to her head. "You tell me!" she shouted.

"Poor child - make it stop!" Nayda cried angrily. Chas pulled her back.

"Ngghh - you tell me!" Zed shouted. Her hands dropped and she looked straight up. "Irrucaynya!" she railed. "Irrucaynya!"

She shook. And then she began to scream.

John grabbed her shoulders. "Zed!" he shouted. "Zed! That's not you! It's making you think it is - but it's not you! Come on, Zed!"

She screamed and began to claw at his arms.

Nayda started forward. Chas refused to let her move closer.

"Zed!" John raged. He let go of her shoulders only to catch her wrists. "I bloody told you this would happen!" he heaved. She snarled and screamed at him. "Demon Irrucaynya I address you!" he shouted. "You have no power over this body! Leave and never return!"

Zed screamed. Her hands opened and closed, desperate to dig into his flesh.

"Demon Irrucaynya! Leave this vessel and return to your master! You have no claim on this body!" he shouted.

She hissed and clawed for him.

"Oh, love," he groaned, "I'm so sorry. Forgive me later; I need to make you cast it out." He lifted a hand and simply slapped her across the face.

She snarled and growled. She ripped free of him. Her head snapped back as she screamed in rage. A vague shadow of smoke lifted from her head. It floated up into the rafters, swirling around in angry intent.

John stretched a hand up toward it. "Vade, Satana!" he shouted. "Inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis! Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt!" He ran out of breath and had to haul in more. "Sod off and die!"

The smoke writhed and sparked blue. It burst into blue flame - as did the smoke in the jar, causing it to crack and let the flames lick upwards to join the raging lights in the rafters. Abruptly it disappeared.

John looked over at Zed. She was sitting up but in a ball, shivering. He hurried over and landed on one knee. He turned her round, guided her to sit against his front. She gasped in air and tightened up.

"Easy, love," he breathed, keeping an arm round her, smoothing her hair free of her face. She began to relax into him, her breathing less ragged and more desperate. "Easy. You're alright," he said softly. She moved her head to rest against his shirt. He put his hand up and kept her there.

She swallowed. One hand unclenched and went to the white cotton over his chest. It hung on.

Nayda broke free of Chas and ran over. "Is she ok?" she demanded.

Chas followed her and crouched, not too closely, studying Zed's wild, frightened eyes. "Is she?"

"Get her a drink, yeah?" John said. "Something a bit stronger than water."

Chas got up. Nayda stared. She turned her back, pressing her hands together as she wandered away.

Zed turned, pushing into John's shirt. "Next time," she whispered, "maybe I will let you do it."

He grinned over her head. "Next time we don't take the case."

"What's this 'we' business?"

He smiled. "Can you get up?"

"Diablo rubio," she tutted.

"Hey - and I know what that means, an' all," he warned.

She smiled, letting go of his shirt. He helped her to her feet, but then she eased him away from her gently. She wrapped her cardigan more warmly round herself. "I need to… be somewhere else."

"Give yourself the rest of the day off," he nodded. Chas appeared with a glass filled with something dark tan that had lumps of ice in it. "I swear I have no idea where you keep all the good stuff," John remarked.

Chas glared at him, then handed it to Zed. "You ok to get upstairs?" he asked quietly.

"I'll - I'll be fine," she nodded. She took the glass and went to the staircase.

Nayda was waiting by the bottom. "I'm so sorry," she said.

Zed waved a hand at her. "Oh no, don't be," she blustered. "It's done." She carried on up the steps.

Chas looked at John, then back at the table with the broken jar. "Well. She got a name."

"She did," he nodded. He went over to the books on the shelves, searching spines. "Irrucaynya," he said to himself, over and over, until he found a rather heavy looking tome. He pulled it out and hefted it to the table. Unclasping the two large brass catches on the cover, he eased it open to start skim-reading pages.

"Will she be alright?" Nayda asked quietly, coming to the table.

"Oh she's tough as old boots, that one. All I had to do was make her angry and she kicked it out herself," John said, pre-occupied. "A skinful of Chas' best whisky and a bit of downtime will see her right."

"I'll check on her later though," Chas warned him.

"If you think you need to," John said, surprised. He peered at the book. "Now then. Irrucaynya sounds a little… South American. What do you reckon?"

"What is that book?" Nayda asked.

"It's a directory of demons and who they serve," John said as his finger started to run down a long list on the left of the page. He reached the bottom and started again on the other side. When that ran out, he tried the next page.

"Maybe it doesn't serve anyone," Chas said. "Maybe it's a free agent."

"Even if it is, it started somewhere," John mused. "If we can find out what kind of demon it is, then we'll know how someone came across its name to summon it in the first place - and then we can summon it."

"Summon it here? Are you crazy?" Chas argued.

"Chas," John said, straightening up. "Right now it's being led around by its nose by some human who thinks they've got control of it - but they really haven't. As soon as it breaks free and bodies start piling up, that's when we bind it and bring it to us."

"You're not going to just wait for it to start killing people, are you?" Nayda gasped.

"Of course not," John sighed. "But having a binding spell prepared for such an eventuality is a good thing, right?"

"Oh. I see," she said, casting her eyes to the table. "Sorry."

John considered her for a moment. Then he bent over the book again to scan the lists. "Chas… Can you look into the people at Moors Incorporated? Someone at that company wanted poor Roberta dead, and I'm willing to bet it was someone on that floor. And see if you can't find out who this mysterious friend is with the ouija board."

"I'll get started - as long as you gave a fresh offering to the wi-fi gods this morning?"

"Yes, I paid the electric bill," John sighed. "Shock horror; Tufty here remembered."

"Then I'll go start digging." Chas nodded to Nayda and walked off.

She sat at the table, watching John for a long moment. "You have a hard life here, don't you?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, it's terrible having Chas cook and look after the place for me."

She smiled. "This is a normal Wednesday for you, isn't it?"

"If you think this is wild you should stick around for Friday nights. Things really get lairy."

She chuckled. "Ah, John. Everything is a source of amusement for you, isn't it?"

"What else is there," he muttered.

Her smile shrank. "If I had known it was going to be like this, I—"

"You didn't," he said shortly, straightening up and looking her in the eye. "No-one ever does. I tell people till I'm blue in the face but people just plough on in there anyway."

She got up, coming round the table and putting a hand on his arm. "You're this whirling aura of buried rage and… and depressed cynicism… for some reason you don't have to tell me." She paused. "But thank you. I do trust you, John. I do believe you can find this creature and kill it. I'm sorry that I've brought this to you, but… I need you to finish this."

"Oh I'll finish it alright."

"You haven't even asked…" She paused, looking down at his hand by the book. "Well… you haven't even asked about payment."

"We don't normally work in dollar values, love," he said with a smile. "We're more concerned with souls than money."

"That I can see," she said. She stole closer to him. "But I am very grateful. If there's a way I can show you my appreciation for the way you do things…"

"Are we still talking money?"

She smiled up at him. "No."

"Oh."

She stretched a hand up and smoothed it across his cheek, holding him still while she pressed a kiss into his other one. "Find this demon." She let her hand drop and turned to go. "You don't need me here."

"Uh - actually…"

She stopped and looked back at him. "Yes?"

"There is one thing I need you for."

"Name it," she smiled.

.

ooOoo

.

Chas picked up his jacket from over the back of the sofa, looking around. "John?" he called. "Are we doing this or what?" Nothing answered him and he shook his head, heading over to the kitchen area. It was empty, prompting him to turn back and try the entire floor. His head went up and he let a few ideas go through his head.

He went to the iron stairs and up, going along the wooden landing until he came to doors. He straightened his back and went straight to the one door that was partially open. His hand came up to knock on it.

And then it stopped dead. He heard a shuffle and then a grunt - definitely belonging to a man. It had just the kind of desperate need to it that clearly marked it as a noise only John Constantine could make. Chas frowned.

A huff of air and a thump. "Can't - keep - up," Nayda puffed.

"Yes you - can," John grunted.

"Ngghh - got to - got to - got to stop."

"Not yet!"

"Nearly there?"

"Close."

"How - close?"

"Very!" John panted. "Just - keep - ngghh - going!"

Chas' eyes rolled. He looked at his watch. He shook his head, ignoring the noises behind the door. He stood tall and simply banged his fist on the door.

"Wait!" John growled.

"You got this?" she asked.

"I need you to - keep—"

"Come in!" Nayda called.

The door swung open. Chas clamped his eyes shut hastily. He heard a giggle and opened one eye.

Nayda was standing in front of him, one hand on the inner door knob. Behind her was a round table, which was currently hosting a large stone bowl and a gigantic pestle. This was being pounded round and round at furious speed by a harassed looking John.

"I'm nearly done!" John protested. "Bloody hell, mate. Just a few more minutes."

Chas managed to unglue his other eye - and then his mouth. "Oh. Ok. —What are you doing?"

"Grinding this jorlanntay root Nayda's had with her. It's good for - for - ngghh - adding to protection dust. Never know when - when I might need it," he grunted. "I'm seriously considering using your food blender next time." His hands stopped and fell from the pestle, more to allow him to wipe his forehead than anything else. He caught sight of Chas' discomfort and paused. "What did you think I was doing?"

Chas' mouth worked. He shook his head as if to clear it. "Look, we're all ready downstairs, so—"

"So I'll be down in a minute," John said. He looked at Nayda. "Get your stuff together, love. We're shipping out."

She smiled and then twirled out of the room, leaving Chas to watch the way John's eyes followed her.

"Hey," Chas said.

John blinked and straightened up to look at him. "What?"

"Just… let's not lose focus here, alright?"

"No clue what you're talking about, Chas. Get your car keys."

"Right." He turned and whisked out of the door.

John looked down at the powder in the bowl. He bent over, sniffed at it, and then nodded to himself. His hand went to his coat on the table and he picked it up, going out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

.