simple twist of fate
by red-starshine
part twelve: the card cheat
Chas let the door to the House close before he turned to John, who was reciting what Chas assumed was the 'don't notice us' spell. "All right, so what's the deal with Gaz?" he asked when John was finished.
John sighed, leaning against the door. "Gary. His name was Gary Lester," he said hollowly. "He was a magician too. We were mates, way back when. 'Til the night my exorcism failed and that girl's soul was taken by a demon. Gaz ran off, and I didn't see 'im again for years and years, till he shows up on the House's doorstep, strung out on smack and sayin' he'd accidentally let a hunger demon loose in airport." John glanced away. "The only way to kill the hunger demon was to seal it inside a host's body. Without it being able to move into a new host once it killed the current one, it died too. And Gaz," John said slowly, "Was its final host. He died inside the House after days and days of agony while the demon starved."
"Why's he still at the House?"
John shrugged. "I tried to send 'im on his way right after he died, but he wouldn't budge. But the House has its own consciousness, and I think that the House tried to save him the only way it knew how, by taking his soul into itself. What's there now...I've no idea just how much of it is really Gaz and how much is the House." He took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the door and into the ICU hallway. "Anyway, we're wastin' time. C'mon, mate."
John and Chas walked into the room of the last victim, whose last name was Taylor according to the placard on the door. To Chas's surprise, Taylor was sitting upright in the hospital bed and turned to look at them as they entered the room. Like the other two, he was heavily bandaged, but his skin looked less severely burned, pink around the edges of the bandages like he'd merely had a bad sunburn. He pulled off a bandage covering his hand, and the skin quickly began to heal from puckered, dead black flesh to smooth pink.
"My word," said Taylor primly, glancing down at his fully-healed hand. "If it isn't John Constantine. Just a little too late, as usual."
John squinted at the man as he stopped near the bed. "The Demon Buer. What the hell are you doing in that poor sod's body?"
Buer lifted Taylor's head and gave them a cold smile. His eyes were almost entirely yellow. "This unfortunate man held on for as long as he could. But he just wanted his pain and suffering to end. Now I'm merely granting his request."
"Yeah, and then sending his soul to Hell once you're done fixing up his body," said John flatly. "Did you tell 'im that bit before he agreed to let you in?"
Buer shrugged Taylor's shoulders. "Oops," he said with a wide insincere grin.
"Right," said John, pushing up the sleeves of his trenchcoat. He thrust out a hand towards Taylor's body. "Per júdicem vivórum et mortuórum!"
"A banishing spell? How trite," said Buer. He lifted the covers from the bed, revealing legs that were mottled with rapidly-healing burns, new flesh regrowing over the dead tissue. Buer slid off the bed and wobbled slightly as his feet touched the floor. "After all, you need a little bit of conviction for that to work. I'm not some rank and file demon, Constantine."
"Oh, yes you bloody are," said John. "Sed enim mundi Creator!"
Taylor's head violently rocked to the side like he'd been slapped. He smiled a moment later, his eyes still bright yellow. "Better, but not good enough." With that, he ran towards John, hands curled like claws.
Chas moved in front of John, taking the brunt of the blow meant for him. Buer's fingers dug into his chest, like he was trying to rip off his skin. Chas grabbed Buer's arm above the elbow and twisted hard in a direction human arms were not meant to go in.
Buer shrieked as Chas hooked his free arm around Buer's neck in a chokehold and forced him down onto his knees.
"Qui habet potestatem mittere in infernum!" shouted John without missing a beat, his voice strong. "Jesus, mate. Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said to Chas.
Buer bucked underneath Chas, making a noise like he was being skinned alive. "Less talk, more magic," Chas ground out. It was taking most of his strength to keep Buer restrained, but Chas had a definite height and weight advantage over Taylor's still-healing body.
"Wait! I'll leave!" said Buer, his voice rasping. "Do not finish your spell and I will leave this man's body. Please don't send me back to the First of the Fallen without a soul to show for my efforts."
"Sorry, you had your chance to go quietly," said John. "Now you're getting on the express train straight back to Hell. Ut abir-"
"Stop!" shouted Buer.
John paused in the middle of the spell, one eyebrow raised.
"Perhaps we could make a deal," wheedled Buer in desperation. "An exchange? I know all there is to know about the inner workings of Hell, things that even you do not know."
Chas rolled his eyes. "John, finish the banishment spell," he urged.
John stood still, his hand still held out in front of him towards Buer. As Chas watched out of the corner of his eye, John slowly brought it down. "Where's the rest of Astra's soul?" he said to Buer.
"John!" shouted Chas in disbelief. "Send him back to Hell!"
John ignored him. "Nergal took a part of Astra Logue's soul down to Hell with him. Only part of it was restored to her body. How would I get the rest of it back and remove Hell's claim on her?"
"You are mistaken," said Buer after a moment, obviously confused. "That girl's soul is not in any demon's possession. Hell has no claim upon her."
John took a step towards Buer, his hands balling up into fists. "You lyin' gobshite."
"It's the truth, I swear it!" said Buer in a rush, his voice breaking in panic. "That angel took her soul, all of it, from Nergal! Ripped it right out of Nergal's arms and took it back aboveground! If anyone still has that girl's soul, it's the angel!"