A simple teleportation spell returned Zatanna to Xanadu's place, John Constantine hopping a ride with her. As the puff of smoke thinned and vanished, the dark-haired woman led them right up to the door.
"I'll let you gals gab and blabber," the blond man said as he pulled up short of the door. "I can wait for you to determine our next move."
Zatanna paused at the door, one hand on the handle as she turned her head around to give him an odd look. "What do you mean you'll wait? Get in here so we can explain this. I can hardly wrap my head around it as is."
"Not a good idea, love," Constantine grunted. "A man knows when he's welcomed and when he isn't."
The magician wasn't certain what that meant, but it sounded like a pile of crap. Rolling her eyes, she reached a hand out and grabbed him by his wrist. "I promise, no one's going to bite. We girls will keep our icky cooties to ourselves. Now get in here."
Surprisingly, the blond man held his ground even as she tugged on his arm. "I highly doubt that. Now let—"
Alright, she was done with whatever this was. Opening the door, Zatanna pushed it open enough so that she could turn around and keep it propped open with her butt. She then grabbed Constantine with her other hand and began pulling harder. "Get in here before I put a leash on you," she ordered.
Because of her insistence, Constantine actually stumbled forward. This allowed the dark-haired woman to pull him into the parlor. He resisted the moment he was able to, but not before one foot passed through the door's threshold.
"CON-STAN-TINE!"
Zatanna paused before she turned her head around. The curtain that separated the waiting room from the main parlor couldn't hide the growing, orange-colored light, especially when it was completely consumed in fire. The entire entryway was filled with flames, which were rushing right for—
Suddenly, Constantine's hands were on Zatanna's shoulders. She found herself being jerked back out of the parlor and thrown to one side, just avoiding the torrent of flames that blasted out into the street. Zatanna hit the ground hard, followed by a rather heavy body landing on top of her. It only took her a moment to realize it was Constantine, who was acting like a physical shield between her and the fire.
Then as suddenly as they appeared, the flames vanished. Slowly, the two of them pushed themselves up, Zatanna with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Constantine with a resigned expression. Hmm, from her angle, she would have called it a grimace now that she thought about it.
That voice, however, that had been Xanadu's. Zatanna knew it by heart by this point. The rage had been palpable, no mistaking that. Slowly, the dark-haired woman pushed her way past Constantine, creeping towards the open doorway and peeking around its frame.
Through the doorway and into the main parlor, she saw Xanadu standing, framed by the door frame, the tattered remains of the curtain hanging by threats from the top. There were even small flames feasting on the curtain's remains, slowly burning up what was left of it. Both of her hands were bathed in fire, which looked as if they were crawling up her arms, though never able to go much further despite their attempt. Absolute fury twisted her normally regal face. To one side, Zatanna barely caught sight of June Moone, who stared with bulging eyes at the fortune teller.
"Just mention John Constantine if you want to see her turn red." Zatanna had to wonder where those words had come from before her memory recalled that Jason Blood had said them. Apparently, the guy had failed to mention that turning red for Xanadu was a euphemism for pissed off. Hell, she was downright murderous right now.
"What did I say, Constantine?!" Xanadu bellowed as she came storming towards the front door. "Never darken my door. Is that so hard to understand?"
Zatanna glanced to the blond man, who looked as if he had every intention of bolting, not that she blamed him. "What did you do?" she couldn't help but ask.
"That's a long story and we don't have the time to get into specifics," he grunted back as he stood on his feet. He backed a couple steps away, but that was as far as he got as Xanadu appeared in the doorway.
"You disobeyed me—again! I told you what I would do to you if I ever saw you again," she snarled, raising her hands up.
Okay, what happened next was a very stupid move on Zatanna's part. She would freely admit that every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Pure instinct caused her to put herself between her teacher and the object of her fury. She then grabbed Xanadu by her arms and pushed them up into the air. There was a burst of heat as a fireball went flying high into the sky.
Yeah, that's right, for a split second, Zatanna had put herself into firing range of a pissed off Xanadu. If she had been any slower, it would be her that was extra crispy with a side of gravy right about now.
"Nimue, get ahold of yourself!" she ordered, using her best authoritative voice, her face hard.
Xanadu snapped her eyes to her. The look of rage damn near quelled the magician to a reprimanded schoolgirl. "You would bring this filth to my front door?!" she demanded heatedly.
Okay, there were some very, very important details that were getting left out here, and Zatanna felt that she really should have known them before all of this happened. Unfortunately, she was right in the middle of things, and now she had to deal with the fallout. "I don't know what's going on, but chill. We've got things to talk about and he's involved now."
"Like hell he is!" the older woman snarled. "He only brings ruin to everything he touches. He leaves now, either by his own volition or consumed by holy fire."
"I know when I'm not wanted," Constantine piped up. "I'll be leaving—"
"Yats erehw uoy era," Zatanna commanded, and Constantine froze where he stood. "Nimue, listen to me," she then spoke to her enraged teacher. "He's been investigating this hag, just like us. We need to know what he knows."
"No, we do not." The fire around Xanadu's arms began to weaken, slowly vanishing from sight. "I'm warning you, Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine is a plague. He will bring about the end of the world if it suits his needs. Whatever he has told you, it is snake oil designed to gain your trust."
"She's not entirely wrong," Constantine added, thinking he was being helpful.
He wasn't, in case you were wondering.
"Unless you're going to be helpful, then tuhs ruoy htuom," Zatanna commanded. Constantine's mouth clamped shut in response. "Alright, you don't trust the guy; neither do I. But he has some insights we could use right now, and if we're going to stop this hag from doing what it's doing, we need to know what he knows."
"And I'm telling you, he will only tell you what benefits him. He cannot be trusted."
"Then I have a solution." Zatanna lowered Xanadu's arms to her sides, waiting a couple moments before actually letting go. She didn't need the fortune teller to take another shot at the source of her ire, especially with her still between them. Friendly fire was probably acceptable in her teacher's mind at the moment. She then spun around to face the magically-frozen Constantine. "So here's the deal, British guy: you're coming into the parlor and anything you do that set's my friend off here and she'll cast you into some abominable hellscape, no ifs, no ands, no buts about it. Agreed?"
Constantine didn't respond, not even to nod or say his answer. For a moment, the magician thought he was being rude before she recalled her last couple of spells. "Uoy nac kaeps won."
"You do realize she could send me to that hellscape anyways," Constantine said the instant he could. "What assurances do I have that she won't?"
"You don't," Xanadu spat. "After what you pulled, anything less than absolute honesty will not let you walk a free man. Your tongue may wither and die before this is all said and done."
"Well, when you put it that way…"
Zatanna turned back to her mentor. "Satisfied?" Not even waiting for an answer, she then said, "Emoc." In response, Constantine began following her, his legs taking jerky steps like he was some sort of robot. Entering the fortune telling parlor. Zatanna led them into the main room, where June was still sitting bug-eyed. "Evah a taes," she ordered, which Constantine did, sitting in the chair next to June. The researcher edged her seat away from the blond man, trying not to be too close lest he be targeted again.
Xanadu then passed by the dark-haired woman, resuming her place at the table. Seeing as this left Zatanna without a chair, she rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers. Out of thin air, a leather chair appeared, standing in stark contrast to the wooden, ornament ones Xanadu normally used. Plopping herself into it, she noted the dark look her teacher was giving her.
"What?" she asked.
"Let's get this farce over with," the fortune teller grumbled. "What did you find at the museum?"
"Well, we can confirm June's story," Zatanna answered. "We found those suits of armor that got damaged. In fact, I saw it happen."
Xanadu raised an eyebrow. "You saw it happen?"
"Yeah, it was strange. I felt myself get pulled into, well, I guess what Constantine here calls a memory. I saw June running through the museum and then the hag catching up with her. We found some evidence indicating the hag was June's monster."
The frown that appeared on Xanadu's face was not a look the younger woman wanted to see. "Any idea what that means?" Zatanna pressed. "The memory thing, I mean."
"A latent power of yours may be forming," the older woman responded absently. "Or a trap was left behind for anyone magically-sensitive to find it and activate it."
Zatanna stared for a moment before she shuddered. She very much remembered the way the hag had turned its head towards her and then attacked. That alone made her think a trap was very much more likely than whatever idea Constantine had.
"I'm sorry, but I'm really new to this," June spoke up then. "But what is going on?"
Zatanna sighed. "It seems that the creature that attacked you left a trap for me to stumble into. I got to see what happened to you, but then it turned its attention to me and tried to attack me. I'm not certain what would have happened if I hadn't instinctively dispelled it."
"Oh." There was a moment of silence. "I think you mentioned a hag earlier. What exactly is that?"
"The simple answer is a really old, really ugly witch. Trust me, that was what attacked you."
"Why did it attack me though? What does it actually want?"
"Power," Xanadu answered succinctly. "They always seek greater power, which distorts their bodies into monstrous entities—some faster than others." That last remark was aimed right at Constantine if Xanadu's narrowed eyes were any indication. "You've most likely heard of stories of witches making deals with the Devil, or other dark apparitions."
"I think I have," June replied slowly. "But again, why me? I don't have any power."
"That book you were studying," Zatanna pointed out. "Remember, it has all of those spells for demon summoning and the like. We already know it wants it; you just happened to be unlucky enough to be there when it arrived."
"So it wasn't after me?" June sighed. "That's a relief."
"Not necessarily," Constantine grunted, drawing all of their attention to him. "It knows you know about the book, and it'll think you hid it somewhere. It's officially after you now."
"As much as it pains me to say, I must agree with Constantine," Xanadu said begrudgingly.
"So what do we do? Stop it?" June asked. "Is that what it'll take for it to leave me alone?"
"That seems to be the way things are," Zatanna spoke as she leaned into her rather comfy chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Oh, there's one other thing."
Turning her attention to Constantine, she waited for him to present the card they had found. When he didn't move for several seconds, she rolled her eyes before she gestured with her hand, waving it. The blond man moved an arm, again robotically, pulling out the card and placing it on the table. "We found that in the museum. Recognize it?"
June glanced at it before snatching it up. "This is Eric's," she breathed. "What was it doing there?"
"So you know Eric Gordon?" Zatanna pressed.
"Yeah," June nodded. "He was a researcher at the museum, just like me. He was a no-show today though…or rather yesterday."
A puzzle piece had landed in their laps, though Zatanna wasn't certain how it fit. "Any ideas, Xanadu?" she inquired.
"It would seem Mr. Gordon wasn't simply attacked for his latent powers," she observed. "He was sacrificed so that the hag could gain entry into the museum."
"This thing attacked Eric?" June demanded.
"Indeed. I am sorry to inform you, but he has been killed."
The researcher's face paled. "Oh my God."
"Something isn't making sense to me," Zatanna interjected, only taking a moment to register the horror on June's face as she took in the news of her co-worker's death. Faintly, she wondered how she was able to move on without trying to empathize with the woman. "Why would the hag need to kill Eric for his badge? Couldn't it just teleport in?"
"Many museums contain artifacts that are cursed or enchanted," Xanadu explained. "Objects that any dark entity would like to obtain. To prevent this, many local mages will cast spells to deny them entry. The only way around this is for someone to invite the dark entities in."
"Let the right one in?" Zatanna summed up. "I thought that was vampires."
"Vampires are dark entities, are they not?"
Well, that sorta made sense. However, "Wait, Vampires are real?"
"Of course, they are," Constantine grunted. "Why wouldn't they be?"
"...do…do they sparkle?"
"Only when they're about to burst into ashes from sunlight exposure," he shrugged. "Though I guess you couldn't call it sparkling so much as burning up."
"As intriguing as this is, if there are spells to stop evil things from entering, how did this hag get into the museum," June questioned. Clearly she had gotten over her co-worker's death and chose to rejoin the conversation.
"The badge," Constantine answered her. "I'm guessing it gives access to highly secured areas in the museum, right? There's your invitation right there."
"But that's a machine, a security lock. How does that even work?"
"The spells never differentiate between a person and a machine," he explained. "The security lock granting admission is the same as me holding the door for it."
Huh, now that was an intriguing thought. Zatanna wondered how the hag had figured that out. She had a feeling some trial and error had been used, many attempts that ended with withered bodies. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
"Right now, we need to figure out what exactly the hag wants with this book of yours," Constantine spoke. "There must be a specific spell it wants to increase its power."
"And how do you suppose we'll do that?" Xanadu snarkily inquired.
"Well, that sounds like something a detective would do," Constantine answered. "I'll be the first to admit that there are aspects to investigative work that I'm not cut out for. Unless any of you are trained in that area, we're going to need some help."
"And who exactly do you have in mind?" Zatanna questioned.
"The World's Greatest Detective, of course."
The lighting was dim, the effect of candlelight. One could faintly make out the towering bookshelves of the library due to the soft glows of the small flames. On a small pedestal was a design carved into its surface, one of a star within a circle. Small rune symbols filled the gaps between the star points and the circle. Resting on this design were a set of keys that belonged to the late-Eric Gordon.
Jason Blood stared down at those keys. Even now he could detect the faint stench of a hag on them. That was something not to trifle with. He had met many of them in his time, some that lusted for power and status, while others simply wanted to be left alone. Regardless of their intentions, their wraths were quite formidable.
So he was taking every precaution necessary for this scrying spell. If this hag sensed him, she could lash out. That would not be pleasant.
Feeling as if he could not prepare any longer, Jason began the spell. "Quaero," he proclaimed, his voice booming throughout his privacy library. "Exquiro spiritum nequam. Exquiro spiritum nequam!"
The glow of the candles grew brighter, more intense. At the four corners of the pedestals, new symbols began to appear, glowing with blue light. Each one represented the four elements: earth, fire, water, and air. Once each one was alit, the main symbol, the star within the circle began to emit the same light. "Responde vocationem meam," the redhead continued, his voice remaining calm, yet loud. "Praecipio tibi respondere!"
The keys began to lift up from the pedestal, floating in the air. A sickly green aura began to surround it. "Ostende te, spiritus nequam," Jason commanded. "Ostende te!"
The aura flared, as if resisting, yet Jason did not let up. He focused his spell upon it and forced it to obey him. In response, the aura sank in on itself, gathering around the keys. Then in a flash, its sickly green color became bright white, spreading out until the entire library was no longer visible.
Jason was not blinded by this; it was simply the result of his scrying spell overcoming whatever defenses had been left behind on the keys. Evil spirits had a tendency to leave something behind, whether knowingly or not. The ones with intent usually left something quite nasty for any unsuspecting hunter. Most times, it was just the twisted nature of their lifeforce that lingered behind, tempting and twisting its victims if stumbled upon.
The white light began to fade then, and Jason found himself within a swamp, one long forgotten by the world. Trees emerged from the march, their branches overladen with moss and leaves, making them appear as if they were wilting away. The water was polluted by sediment and green vegetation.
Jason found himself standing on a small island, one of interconnecting vines, leaves, and other marsh vegetation. This was no normal island as one understood them. This was simply a gathering of plants that clung to each other, floating through the march as the current pushed it. Such phenomenon were not uncommon in such miserable places such as this.
However, there was something different about this pontoon of greenery. At its center stood a large stone, carvings drawn onto its face. Jason took a step towards it, hearing marsh water squeezing out of the soft ground and surrounding his shoe. It was a squishing sound, one he ignored.
Drawing closer to the stone, he soon recognized it as a marker. The symbols he saw were ones that had not been made in centuries, a relic of an age the world had passed by some time ago. He was a little rusty, but he did his best to read the inscription.
"Beware!" it warned ominous. "Thou's comes to a cursed land. Only the foolish set foot here, their doom their just reward. Flee these lands lest thee find themselves tormented by vengeful spirits. This is your only warning."
Jason finished the inscription. This was a warning marker, though it seemed strange to be placed in the middle of such a foreboding place. Such markers were normally paced at the entrance to warn off those foolish enough to come. The only reason for this marker to be here is if something had stolen it and placed it here.
For a brief moment, he could have sworn the lighting here dimmed. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up. The smell of rotten egg filled his nose.
The hag was here.
Turning himself around, Jason spotted a figure standing nearby, clothed in a green cloak. They were hunched over, or possibly deformed by a hump on their back. He couldn't see their face due to the cloak's hood covering their head. It created the illusion of darkness within the hood.
"What foolish soul would come to my domain?" a dusty voice demanded. "One so oddly dressed in ridiculous garb."
"You are the one I seek," Jason observed. "Hag of the swamp."
"You know what I am," the cloaked figure observed. "Yet you stand here, no better than I. Not even this swamp can disguise the scent of brimstone."
Jason ignored the observation. "Why have you left your swamp, hag? Why do you drain those of lesser talent than yourself?"
"You are a man, or at least were one at some point. Man has refused to let itself be contained by this world, always seeking out greater heights for itself," the hag answered. Normally, such creatures would not be so forthcoming, but the spell Jason had used forced it to obey. It was something he had learned to add to his scrying spells when he expected to encounter unknown entities, and sometimes he added it just in case. One needed to be prepared for all eventualities. As for this miserable creature, no doubt it would sense the compulsion spell before too long, but there was little it could do to stop it. "I only wish for the same," it finished.
"You speak of Man's advancement, but you and I both know your goal does not match. All you have ever done is fulfill your own self-interest. What is your real purpose?"
The hag seemed to flinch. It did not want to speak, but it was only a matter of time until it was compelled to do so. "You will not learn such secrets so easily," it snarled.
"You fed on the soul of one that possessed lesser power than yourself. I doubt it was for the base reason that you wished to feed," Jason pressed. "Why did you suck out that man's soul?"
He could practically feel a smile emanate from beneath the cloak's hood. "Such untapped power is wasted on those who do not use it. Why leave it untapped when I could use it? The only way to obtain that power was to feast on such a delicious soul."
Jason did not need to ask further on this point. It was quite clear the hag desired Eric Gordon's latent power and ate his soul to get it. No doubt she had done the same to many others over the centuries, though it most likely started on anyone foolish enough to enter her swamp with similar untouched talent.
However, Eric Gordon's attack occurred in the streets of a major U.S. city. That was a drastic change from waiting for her prey to come, instead actively hunting them. Something had changed to cause this hag to venture out as she had. "You hunted him," Jason pointed out. "You actively hunted this man down. You will tell me why."
The hag flinched from the command. "I will not!" she shrieked.
"I command you to," Jason pressed, raising his voice. "You will obey."
"I will obey only if I devour your soul!" The hag began to grow, increasing its size. She soon towered over Jason. "Adding your power to mine will advance me further than any of these empty vessels!"
"You will not have my soul," Jason rebutted. "It has already been claimed by another. You will fall should you attempt to take it."
"It is a risk worth taking!"
The hag lunged forward. It seemed to close in on the redhead like a crashing wave, coming in from his front, from above his head, even from side-to-side.
And all Jason did in response was hold up one hand, fire erupting all around it. The flame raged like wildfire, completely consuming his hand, causing it to vanish from sight.
A shriek filled the swamp as the hag backed away, shrinking on itself until it returned to its hunched form. "Hellfire!" it screamed. "You truly are damned!"
"Yes, I am," Jason agreed. The flame began to fade away, his hand returning to sight, but he held it up, a warning for the hag not to try her luck again. "You will reveal yourself to me, hag. I want your name."
"My name, you say? Be careful what you wish for, damned mortal."
"Give me your name," he commanded.
The hag flinched, but unlike the last time, she would not resist him. "I am the Enchantress, the Succubus of the Nightshade Realm. All magick is mine to control, mine to own, mine to use. I will have your magick, you damned mortal!"
With the same extended hand, Jason began to close his fingers to form a fist, rotating his wrist as he did so. The swamp around him began to stretch towards him, including the hag. As if it were being sucked, the entire scene before him was pulled into his hand. By the time his fingers closed completely, the swamp and hag were no longer before him, instead the comforts of his library returning to his sight.
The candles were still burning. The light that glowed from the symbols on the pedestal was no longer there, causing the elemental signs to disappear entirely, leaving only the carved star and circle behind. The tainted keys laid back in the center of the star, as if it had never levitated in the air to begin with.
Jason took in a deep breath. It seemed this hag was a resident of the Nightshade Realm. That was not a good thing. The creatures there were voracious in their appetites, never stopping until they had consumed everything. How one such resident had found their way to this realm was a mystery that needed to be solved. If there was an entrance between the two worlds, then countless nightmares could cross over.
The only other option was that she had been summoned to this world. If that was the case, then she was either the puppet of a greater master, or she was on the loose, her own master so to speak. Jason honestly preferred the former over the latter. There would be limits to what the hag could do were she to be controlled. If she were free of her own volition, however…
Fortunately, he had a starting point. If there was one benefit of his long years, he was able to obtain much research into the arcane and occult. The Nightshade Realm was in one of the many books he had collected. With the hag's name, this Enchantress, he could divine more of her motives.
Holding his hand out, he summoned a containment spell, one that surrounded the keys on the pedestal. Because he had used them to track the hag down, that had created a doorway for her to do the same to him. With the containment spell in effect, she would not have an entry into his home. There were too many artifacts that would entice the hag to come here. If she got her hands on even one of the relics, that would also be disastrous.
Confident that his spell was in place, Jason then turned his attention to the rest of his library. Now, where did he keep the books on the Nightshade Realm…
