A second Hellblazer/Buffy fic. This one is just John and Ethan and isn't really connected to my first one though I suppose you could just imagine John forgot he'd met Ethan.
John's supposed to see a man about a dog and the whole thing has been arranged through a mutual acquaintance so he think's that maybe things will go smoothly.
The man in question, Ethan Rayne has him meet him at a pub that's slightly more upscale than he usually haunts but it makes for a nice change and he supposes London is full of posh wannabe's. Why should this guy be any different, just because he can do a bit of magic?
He turns up a few minutes late but the man is more late and he has time to order and get to work on his pint before anyone slides into his booth and sits down.
He glances at the man. Probably around his age, wear starting to show around the corners of his eyes but the man has some kind of electric energy to him that John can't place and it makes him seem youthful. It makes the hair's on the back of John's neck stand on end but too he knows he's given more than enough people that feeling himself and so he brushes it aside.
"Well, hope I didn't keep you waiting." The other man say's but John get's the impression he isn't terribly concerned and the man's eyes rake over the waitress with a kind of casual sexism that could almost be charming.
The waitress doesn't seem terribly bothered or impressed by it.
Rayne settles into his pint.
"So, you're the guy with what I'm looking for." John say's.
The other man smiles slightly. "You want the Tome of the Arcane. Only a few in existence, I'm afraid and fewer every day."
John shrugs. "Not my problem, I heard you had it."
The other man inclines his head slightly and his eyes are bright. "Oh I might have one in my possession." He say's, teasing almost. "But it wouldn't come cheap."
John shrugs. He's spent the day playing the ponies and raked in enough cash to cover what he needs. "I'm not hurting." He say's.
Rayne breaks into a smile. "Oh Good, I'd hate for anyone to get hurt." His eyes are dancing and John get's the feeling that he doesn't quite mean it. The guy looks like he enjoys the idea of someone getting hurt.
John knows he's off putting to some people. Especially people who can pick up on magic but who have never really touched the stuff. They can feel everything without being able to put a name to it. This guy is off putting to him and he very much does have a name for it all.
Rayne is a chaos mage.
He probably has all kinds of nasty, little deals out there. . . he's supposed to be good for business but John doesn't trust him. There's just something about him.
"Did you bring it?" He asks, nodding to the man's bag.
Rayne smiles again and nods. "Of course. They said you would have the money." He takes out a book wrapped in some kind of greasy cloth and with a long fingered flourish unwraps it.
John wrinkles his nose and the man laughs slightly.
"The cheese cloth keeps it from leaking. It's an old book. I recommend goat. Doesn't seem to really work the same with cloth that's been used for dairy. Either way. . . you'll want something to wrap it in or things start getting a bit messy."
John feels his heart speed up. "That included in the price?" He jokes.
There's laughter from the booth nearest them and he glances over as Rayne covers the book back in it's cloth. "Why not? I can be generous."
He nods and pushes a fat envelope across the table.
Rayne opens it, his eyes shine briefly as he thumbs through the notes inside and then he folds it again and tucks it inside his jacket. "Well, the Tome of the Arcane and all of her secrets are yours." He sounds highly amused and John drains the rest of his pint, calling for another.
"So how come you're parting from it?"
The man hesitates a moment, some of the humor leaving his eyes. "Ah you see. . . I need a little. . . quick cash. Headed to the States to see an old friend."
John nods. "Hard to get through customs?" He asks.
Rayne actually laughs for real this time, none of his snide humor and he sits back more comfortably. "You wouldn't believe what I've had to do to get some of these things through an airport. Honestly. You'd think there was no trust left in the world. Pfft."
They both have a laugh because they've both been there. John's time in Louisiana is a few years back now but he remembers. He thinks airport security are trained somehow to recognize people like them and give them a hard time.
"You try getting a single totem through security these days and suddenly you're being detained and told it belongs to the National Museum of Serbia. I mean what are they going to do with it?" Rayne asks. "Put it under glass? I can't think of a bigger waist!" They laugh again and John watches Rayne get another drink and shake his head. "Honestly. Sometimes this line of work makes me consider going out and getting a nine to five. There's probably less hassle."
He shrugs and snorts into his drink. "But then you'd have to pay taxes."
"Rubbish, I've had plenty of semi- legal jobs and I've never once reported any earnings."
Another round of laughter and Rayne's eyes go back to the book, something dancing behind them that John thinks isn't nice.
"Well, here's to that." He drains his second pint as a fashionably dressed young woman passes their table and both he and Rayne's eyes follow her. Just about every other pair of eyes connected to a beating heart do the same.
"Here's to that." Rayne say's and John grins at his wiley companion.
"True enough." He say's, getting his bill and scooping up the book in it's cheese cloth wrappings. "Gonna have to say thank you for this and head out. Good luck with her though." He nods in the direction the woman went and Rayne's eyes snap back to him and then to the book, amusement dancing behind them again.
Rayne finishes his drink too. "A pleasure doing business." He say's. "Enjoy the book and remember, it's very rare."
John hesitates, unsure if he's being made fun of but then shrugs it off.
Magic types are always a bit funny.
He should know.
Rayne goes to try his luck with the fashionably dressed woman and he slips out onto the street, book tucked under his arm.
He wants the book for a very specific bit of magic but the idea that he can turn around and flip it for a good price after he's done is appealing too.
There's idiots new to magic who'd pay and arm and a leg for dog eared copy of Aleister Crowley's cook's recipe book. With enough of a talk up he could probably get more than he'd paid for it.
Relishing the thought he beats it home and locks himself inside his flat like a school boy with his first dirty magazine.
The book is almost vibrating or maybe he's just excited enough that he can imagine it doing so.
He clears some old newspapers and an unwashed plate from the kitchen table and eagerly unwraps the used cheese cloth that stinks only slightly from around the book.
It's thick and there's a white film on it from the cloth but he ignores it and opens the cover, old leather crumbling at the edges.
There it is, exactly what he's been looking for and excitement fills him, the kind that comes from doing things he isn't supposed to do. . . the kind that comes from knowing secrets and things others don't.
Thrilled he turns a few pages, seeing ancient, black ink lying dry on the yellowed pages, written by a long dead hand and. . .
He squints at something scrawled in ball point pen along a margin and frowns, picking the book up.
It's the wrong thing to do.
Instantly the ink glistens and begins to run off of the page.
The cheese cloth isn't there to catch it and the inks and letters tumble down onto the table and spill across the floor.
John yelps as the black, spider like letters cascade over his fingers and hands and he tries to catch them but it's stupid and futile and there's nothing he can do.
He grabs the cheese cloth and tries to blot the letters dry but it's too late and his table and floor boards are stained black with ancient words.
"Fuck!" He swears, staring at yellowed and empty pages.
He looks at the ball point scribble again and recognizes a spell.
The book's been enchanted to do this and he thinks of Rayne telling him the book leaks. . . thinks about his jokes and dancing eyes. . . fewer every day.
No wonder the damn thing cost so much.
The ink has dried on his table and floor and there's almost none of it left on the page, just black splotches where he'd failed to sop it all up.
He flips a few pages dismally and knows he's been had.
The book is ruined, he's out all of his winnings and Rayne is on his way to the United States to see an old friend.
Damn it all, he feels like a chump.
If he ever see's Rayne again he'll have to get him back for this but at least for tonight there's nothing he can do.
He should have known better than to try to deal with a chaos mage. He's John Constantine after all, he might not worship the unpredictable as Rayne does but he's caused enough problems that he should know one when it's smirking at him across a table.
He shuts the book, wraps it back up in it's dirty cloth and shelves it, thinking that maybe he could find a use for it some other day and knowing it'll end up in the back of his storage unit with the rest of the strange thing's he's acquired over the years.
He still can't believe he let himself get played.
He'll remember the man if he ever crosses paths with him again, that's for sure.
Thanks so much for reading!
