Time really got away from her as it was nighttime when Zatanna left the Oblivion Bar. It wouldn't have been the first time she had left a bar at such a late hour, ya know, cause she was the life of the party. Always was, always had been, always will be. However, considering the bar wasn't in the best neighborhood to begin with, and one she wasn't that familiar with either, she was feeling on edge.
Still, she had learned some things. That Jason Blood guy had been worth the price of admission alone. The pissing contest between that John Constatine guy and his friend she could have lived without. She had learned some things she wanted to know; she had learned some things she could have lived without knowing. All in all, she broke even, though she was rather glad to learn…what did she learn again? It felt important...
Whatever, that was a Future Zatanna problem. Right now, she just needed to make her way back to Xanadu's. That shouldn't be a problem, even if she was buzzed from all the booze she drank. That didn't mean she was helpless! No siree! She had magic on her side! And she had Ms. Hogie's self-defense lessons! She pitied the mugger that tried to assault her!
Zatanna paused. She then looked up to the tops of the buildings, squinting her eyes due to the light from the nearby street lamps as she eyed the rooftops for a moment. Nope, no giant bats up there. Pity.
As she felt herself swaying as she walked, there was the sound of footsteps approaching her. Oh yay, the mugger had shown up. Right on time too, if her nonexistent watch was any indication! Time to kick some ass and take some…some…uhhh, whatever finished that line.
What was more important was that she got the element of surprise. It's what this jackass was trying to do, walking up behind her, then take advantage of her as she stumbled drunkily down the street. Did she say drunk? No, she was buzzed! Buuuuuuuzzzzed. She stumbled buzzzzzed down the street. Heh, heh. Well, she would show this mugger! She was no longer a distress in damsel! Holding a hand up in front of her, it began to crackle with magical energy. Faintly, she wondered if it was a good thing that magic could be wielded by drunk people—ahem, buzzzzzed people.
Waving that thought off, she promptly spun around, holding up her energized hand as small bolts of reddish-purple magic danced all over it. She nearly spun around in a complete circle, but she managed to stop herself, swaying back and forth. She stared at the man she saw, her glazed eyes trying to become a glare and settled somewhere in between. That was still intimidating, ya know, even if she must have looked utterly smashed. For a moment, she forgot what she was doing before she blurted out, "Are you a mugger?"
The glow coming from her hand bathed a baffled John Constantine. He even looked confused. Very convincing. "Not since I was nine," he quipped after a moment. "I thought I would offer ya a lift home."
Well…that was nice of him. Maybe there was a gentleman in that cheap British get-up. Zatanna began to relax, but then came to a problem. Even though she felt safer, she didn't stop crackling with power. Why wasn't she letting go of her magical powers? For some reason, she felt she couldn't trust this guy; in fact, a lot of the people in the bar didn't trust him. There had to be a reason for it! Good job, magic powers, for not abandoning her buuuuuzzed self. "This isn't you trying to take me to a second location, is it?" she questioned.
"I guess I am, technically? You know, since I'm trying to take ya home?"
"Aha! So you do want to attack me!" Flawless logic! "I ain't letting that happen to me, Mr. Mugger!"
Constantine stared at her. "Blood got you right snookered, didn't he? I shoulda known."
Now she was definitely glaring. "So what if he did? It's more than what you did."
"I never got the chance," he pointed out.
"Well, is that my fault? I think not. Now, I am seeing myself home."
"And how do you plan on doing that?"
"I…" she trailed off. It was then she noticed a startling lack of cars around. She also realized that she couldn't remember how she got here. Did she drive? Did Constantine drive? She felt like one of them drove them here, but which one? Maybe they walked? Well, that seemed like a problem for sober Zana to figure out. "I am…taking the bus!" she proclaimed loudly.
Constantine raised an eyebrow. "What bus?"
"You know! The bus! It's big…and yellow…and doesn't have seatbelts…"
"Are you talking about them American school buses?"
"Yeah! Have you seen one pass by?"
"Not in this neighborhood," he muttered. "Alright, I'm gonna do you a right solid and get you home safely. Just put down the hand full of magic."
Zatanna blinked her eyes. Then she looked at her raised hand, still covered in tiny bolts of magical energy. When had that happened? And how did she turn it off? How did she even turn it on to begin with? "Uhh, I don't think I can," she said dumbly.
Constantine then held up both of his hands. "I can help ya out with that, so long as you don't fire it, deal?"
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Slowly, the blond man took a step towards her. He drew closer and closer, not once attempting to rush her. It was like he was trying to approach a cornered animal that was snarling and hissing. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of her that he reached out with one hand. Zatanna watched curiously as the hand moved towards hers.
Then, right before they touched, an orange light appeared before his hand. It took the form of some sort of symbol, one surrounded by a circle. She didn't get a good look as the man wrapped his hand over hers, the symbol folding over her fingers and knuckles. The magic she held was snuffed out, the two spells canceling each other out.
Why did it seem darker now?
"Now that we got that done, let's get you home," Constantine said gently. He took another step to her, wrapping one arm around her waist. Zatanna just gazed up at him, and then the next thing she knew, there was a flash of light and they were no longer outside the Oblivion Bar.
The page turned with a satisfying crinkle that only old documents could pull off. The manuscript was old, dating back to the Middle Ages. Its influence was far reaching, even to today's pop culture.
Of course, copies could be found in paperback and hardcover on Amazon.
This was the Sworn Book of Honorius, one of the oldest spell books in the world. This wasn't some copy either, this was the genuine article, the original, on loan from the National Gallery in London. It was very generous of them to do that since they always kept a tight grip on their ancient tombs and manuscripts. One could say that about most museums though.
But that was for good reason as this book was literal myth-turned-reality. According to legend, a group of magicians had gathered to put all of their collective knowledge into one book. Everything from demon summoning, to communicating with the dead, to even locating lost treasure was contained in this book. Despite the aged pages giving it a decidedly brown coloring, the drawings contained within were also colored, retaining much of those vibrant colors as if they had been done only a few days ago. Reds and greens and yellows stood out with little fading, making one wonder just what inks and dyes were used back then to achieve such preservation. There was one way to figure that out, but that required destroying portions of the book, so that lone option wasn't even in consideration. For now, that knowledge was unfortunately lost to time.
June Moone admired the writing, noting the precision each letter, each line, and each mark was made. She had so far detected four other authors based off of their penmanship, but each one had taken great care when it had been their turn. It was clear they took this book seriously. June would treat their work with great care and reverence as well. It was the least she could do.
To her knowledge, and that of most of academia, this was the book that had inspired a set of "spellbooks" known as grimoires. That even included the more infamously known Necronomicon. Though this one wasn't written in blood, or made of human skin, or was the product from a deal with the Devil himself, its subject matter was a great look into the past. It was a time capsule of humanity's view of mystism several hundred years ago.
June was considered a researcher of Middle Age manuscripts, though you would be hard pressed into finding someone in management at San Francisco's Palace of Fine Arts that would admit as much. More like, she was someone's lackey, the person that did all of the dirty work so that someone with a Ph.D behind their name could take the credit. She was certainly paid that way. Thing was, she too had a Ph.D in medieval studies, she just didn't have the reputation like her bosses did.
In simpler terms, she was an intern.
That was just how the game was played and if she wanted people to greet her as Dr. Moone one day, then she unfortunately had to deal with it. However, it was moments like this, where she sat in front of books she had only read about in her school textbooks, that she found she didn't mind. It was her that was turning the pages of the granddaddy of all grimoires, using a small metal tong to turn each page. No way was she going to tear these fragile pages.
With a sigh, she looked up from her work. There was a nearby clock that—holy shit, was that the time?!
June had to blink her eyes. It was already after three in the morning, the witching hour as old cultures liked to refer to it. Had she really stayed here that long? Again? God, she had to be here at 8! Raising a hand up, she rubbed her face with it.
She needed to get home, if only to get a couple hours of sleep and to wash up. At this time of night, traffic should be dead, so there wouldn't be much trouble getting home. Then again, maybe if she stayed here, doing more of her research, she could show her bosses that she hadn't left this place all night and they might—might—give her the day off. Oh, she'd have to be back later that afternoon, but she could buy herself some rest time.
Or they'd expect her to go through the entire day on little rest and rage at her with every mistake she made…
Crap, this was just a bad situation. She couldn't help getting lost in her work! Setting aside her small tongs, she then closed the grimoire, hearing a heavy thud as she did so. For now, she would take a break and consider her options, as minimal as they were.
It didn't help that one of her co-workers was a no-show. Eric was usually good about showing up, but he did have a problem with being on time. It was why no one really batted an eye when he wasn't there at opening. It wasn't until lunchtime that someone asked where he was. Turned out, he hadn't even bothered showing up. That was unusual for him, but there was too much going on to do more than mutter under your breath and do your job. It was management's job to handle that business, even if it inconvenienced everyone.
Pushing her chair back, June stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Immediately after, she had to reach down and pull at the waist of her blue jeans as they felt as if they were slipping down. One of these days, she was going to wear a belt—and she probably would still be pulling her pants up regardless.
Reaching to her head then, she undid the ponytail she had been keeping her brown hair in, letting it fall to her shoulders. She used to keep her hair long, but after her bosses kept complaining about finding her hair in old books, she cut it shorter to keep it more manageable. Now the ends lightly brushed against the top of her shoulders.
June sighed irritably. You know what? She was going home. Forget about showing dedication, or whatever excuse she could come up with. She needed rest and she would get it. On the back of the chair next to her, she grabbed her blue jean jacket and shoved her arms into the sleeves. The white blouse she wore completed her ensemble, along with a necklace that gleamed in the light, but then, she really didn't go out of her way to dress up when she was working. She had very little dealings with the public side of things, so the dress code in her department was more lax.
Now she just had to clean up. Closing her journal book, she put it on top of the grimoire and picked them both up. Turning around, she saw the rest of the research lab, the place immaculate from being cleaned. Everyone was responsible for their work area. If there was so much as a speck of dust, they had to clear it. Eyeing her station for a moment, she didn't see anything that required extensive cleaning. Great, now all she had to do was put the grimoire back into the vault for safekeeping and get out of here.
A strange humming sound happened then, causing June to look around. One of the ceiling lights began to flicker then, going off and on in quick succession. Looks like that's about to go out, she mused.
Well, that was a problem for the morning crew. That and the rotten egg smell she was starting to smell. Ugh, that was strong. Someone must have left an egg salad sandwich out again. Picking up the grimoire, she held it in her arms as she began to head towards a closed door. The vault was on the other side, where other precious treasures of the museum were kept. The door looked more like a bank vault than some regular, wooden door. A good reason for that was because of the seal it created to reduce air pollution and—
CRASH! June jumped where she stood, whipping her head around. Her eyes darted around until she found a shelf that was normally bolted to the wall was no longer there. One end of it was still in place, but its otherside was now resting on the counter beneath it. Jars and books, and whatever else was kept on the shelf were no longer there, fallen onto the counter, or lying on the floor haphazardly.
Alright, now that was strange. June could feel herself become uneasy. She wanted nothing more than to get out of here. A flickering light was one thing; a collapsed shelf was something else. Knowing her luck, she was living a life of threes, as in all good things and all bad things came in threes.
Moving again, she picked up her pace as she headed for the closed vault door. However, the rule of three kicked in as the vault door began to creak open all on its own, causing the researcher to come to an immediate stop.
Okay, what the hell was going on? No way should that door be opening. It had a hyperthermic seal that prevented it from just swinging open, not without someone yanking on it. She had closed it when she had pulled the grimoire out earlier, so it shouldn't be doing this.
Yet, it was. And it was creaking too, which shouldn't even be possible. The hinges were well lubricated and maintained, unlike the rest of the museum. If there was one place that was taken care of, this was it.
The door slowed then, stopping as it stood ajar. An uneasy feeling welled up in June, one that exploded as something slipped in from between the crack between the door and the frame. At first, she didn't know what they were, but they slowly wrapped around the door, looking a lot like fingers, gnarled and disfigured.
Oh…OH God, what was happening?!
There was movement, something moving beyond the door. It was just a flash that June wasn't even certain she saw, but she couldn't mistake the green eye that suddenly appeared, staring right at her.
June screamed. She screamed so loud that it echoed throughout the room, maybe even the entire museum. She stumbled backwards, cripping tightly to the books in her arms.
"The Sworn Book of Honorius," a voice intoned, a hint of greed contained in it. "I have wanted that book for some time." The vault door began to creak open more, whatever that thing was clearly being responsible for it. "Give it to me," it demanded.
Terror was screaming inside of June. That was the best way she could describe it. She was scared and frightened and horrified and terrified and…and…and…
There was a moment, a brief moment, where light caught the glowing eye, revealing more of its face. Its terrible, frightening face.
June screamed again, but this time she spun around and raced for the door out of there. She grabbed the door handle and yanked it down, swinging the door open and slamming it behind her. Then she was running again, flying through the museum proper.
She had to get out of here. She had to get as far away as she could. That thing, it was pure evil! She didn't know what it was, but evil was all she could think of. In the dictionary, there was a picture of that next to the word.
Something inside of her demanded she look to see if it was behind her. It was something she knew was wrong, what with all the horror movies she had seen. Looking back always guaranteed the killer caught you. Yet, she became the trope as she turned her head to look over her shoulder.
She couldn't see the door to the lab. It was gone, vanished into an inky, black darkness, the likes she had never seen before in her life. The worst part, that darkness was creeping forward, consuming the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and any exhibit that it happened to pass by. The void was coming for her!
Oh God, where is the damn exit! her mind screamed. She shot by some medieval exhibit, one she had passed by hundreds of times, yet she couldn't think of what it was, nor did she care at that moment. There was a wide open doorway to her right though, one meant to shepherd large groups of people to other exhibits, and one she took. The books she carried made running awkward, she felt. Yet, she couldn't find it in herself to just toss them away and really run.
Whatever was chasing her, she felt it wanted the grimoire and that couldn't be a good thing.
Entering another medieval exhibit, one that was decorated in shields and swords and even a miniature catapult, she again glanced over her shoulder and found the wide doorway being filled with darkness, starting from one side and spreading to the other. June was forced to turn to her left then, which she did, going through yet another doorway and entering a room with other medieval artifacts, including a couple of suits of armor on either side of the threshold, positioned with their hands on the pommels of swords, the tips of the swords pressed into the stands they were placed on.
However, as she looked behind her yet again, she could have sworn she noticed a blue light flash through the face guards of the suits of armor. As darkness began to pass through the doorway, the suits of armor moved all on their own. Their movements were so fluid, June could have sworn someone was in them.
Because of this, she slowed to a stop and watched as the suits of armor swung their swords, the blades cutting into the darkness. An ear-shattering, soul-shrinking wail rang out, the darkness actually flinching back from the swords. The suits of armor stepped off of their stands and began to turn to face the darkness.
Okay, what the hell was going on now?
Well, whatever it was, it ended just as quickly as it started. The darkness wavered before suddenly it erupted into spikes. The spikes tore into the suits of armor, piercing right through them. The metal suits were lifted up into the air and then thrown across the room, each one crashing into a wall. June could see the rips in the metal, the suits collapsing onto the floor, one of which shattered into pieces.
June turned to run again, but this time she tripped on something. Damn her two left feet! Crying out, she fell to the floor, losing her grip on her books as they went sliding across the floor. Hissing, she shoved herself up and scramble forward, reaching the grimoire first and hurriedly looking it over for damage. It didn't look any worse for wear, and for that she was grateful.
Suddenly, June was flung off of her hands and knees, flipping over and slamming down hard onto her back. Her eyes went wide with terror as she saw a creature hovering over her. Some green dress was flowing from its thin, wrinkly body. Long, greasy, thin hair fell towards the researcher, framing a hideous face with glowing green eyes.
"You can't run from me, girl," it taunted her. "I will feed on your—"
Something pulled on June's neck. It was only a split second, but through her panic-stricken mind, she faintly became aware of her necklace. It was one she had received from her grandmother, one of the cross.
And for whatever reason, it was now floating up between her and the most frightening thing she had ever seen.
A brilliant light suddenly flashed from the small, metal cross. The monster shrieked as it pulled away, fleeing in a blur back into the darkness. June stared with wide eyes as the darkness never left, but neither did the light from her necklace. It shined defiantly, almost daring the monster to attack again. If those suits of armor were any indication though...
Okay, alright, she had no idea what the hell was going on, but it was far past time for her to get the hell out of her. Flipping back over, she snatched up the grimoire and scrambled onto her feet. She took off running, this time never looking back until she was out of the museum.
That bitch! That skank! Slut! Whore! How dare she take what was not hers?!
The hag shrieked and snarled from within the safety of the dark shadows. That tome should be hers! She had spent centuries searching for it, shredding forgeries and false claimholders alike! And there it was! Within her grasp! She could feel its power calling out to her, seducing her with its siren's call. It drew her to it like a moth to the flame.
It was still calling to her.
In a fit of rage, the hag whipped out the small plastic card that had given her entry into this monument of forgotten glory and mundane treasure. She threw it away, losing sight of it as it neared one of the cursed knights that had attacked her. What were the chances long, dormant spells would be waiting to foil her? If she knew the creator of those buckets of bolts were alive, she would show him terrors that would infest his afterlife.
And then that whore! She too carried an enchanted artifact around her neck. Clearly this was not by chance. She had hidden the grimoire in a place of protection for her, even protecting herself. When she found her…
Oh, the torments she would unleash.
Swollen feet slapped down on the polished floor as the hag emerged out of the darkness, storming towards the entrance to this museum. The edema that infected them made them sound as if she were splashing through puddles. This body was beginning to rot away, meaning she would have to abandon it for another soon.
It wouldn't be necessary if she had gotten her hands on that grimoire!
The rage she felt was all encompassing. She did not like being denied, especially when such an artifact was moments from being within her grasp! The powers she could have wielded! Now she was only taunted with the memory and that angered her more. She would follow that whore to the ends of the Earth and take what was rightfully hers!
However, she didn't go very far as she spied something out of the corner of her eye. Slowing down, she turned her head and spotted a small book lying by something claiming to be the shield of a noble knight. Just by sight, she knew it was a forgery and nothing significant. There wasn't even a sniff of magic coming from it. No need to worry about some protection spell this time.
However, there was a stench wafting from that book, one that reminded her of the whore and the Sworn Book of Honorius. Changing course, she lumbered over to it, snatching it up from the floor. Opening it, her eyes narrowed as she studied the handwriting.
Well, well, it seemed that whore was not hogging the tome for nothing. If these writings were accurate, she was interpreting the texts contained within the grimoire. Flipping page after page, a hideous smile appeared on her face.
It would seem she needed to keep this little girl under observation. She could prove to be quite useful in the right circumstance. So long as she did not activate that protection spell on that necklace of hers…
Flipping the pages back, she sought the inside of the cover. It was there she found the name of the owner.
Oh yes, she would definitely be paying this June Moone another visit.
