Earlier in the evening...

There were cheers; there were applause. It was all rather moving for someone that was sentimental.

And no matter how many times she heard it, Zatanna couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. She always tried to give a good show, no matter the location, no matter the audience. It was how you got them back and more. No way would anyone ever leave her show and have someone say, "Don't bother seeing that Zatara chick. She's got great legs, but not much else."

Giving a final bow to the audience, Zatanna began backing her way towards the side of the stage, waving her hands above her head, just before the curtains began sliding shut. The moment she couldn't see them—because if you can see the audience, they could certainly see you—she dropped her arms to her sides, just as someone ran up to her with a towel and a bottle of water.

The dark-haired woman snatched the bottle out of the assistant's hands. She closed her eyes even as she twisted the top, breaking the seal. The assistant immediately began patting her face with the towel, soaking up the sweat that was certainly there. Just because she looked radiant on stage didn't mean those hot stage lights didn't make her break a sweat.

All the while, she could hear the rest of the crew cheer, which put a smile on her face. The moment the towel was pulled away, Zatanna took a long, deep drink of the water, nearly draining half of it in one go. Lowering it down, she swallowed deeply before she beamed at her crew. "Thanks, everyone! You couldn't have put on a better show!"

"What are you talking about?" someone shouted further back. "The only highlight was your legs!"

So yeah, that hypothetical bad review was a very real one, one the troupe had turned into an inside joke. It was a long-standing tradition, a way to get past the negativity because in this day and age of the internet, you had to deal with quite a bit of trolling, wading through talking dickheads to find the genuine reviewers.

That wasn't to say that all negative reviews were bad—that's what constructive criticism was for—but you could tell if someone was just being an asshat for the hell of it.

"And a damn good highlight they are," she countered before taking another drink. "Afterparty is on me! I'm sure Jeff or Jane or one of you evil schemers knows where it's at."

There were more cheers before everyone got to work putting things away, at least the stuff that hadn't already been packed. Certainly, the equipment for the first tricks had been loaded already. They just needed whatever was left before the final clean-up.

In the meantime, she had to get ready for a trip.

As she walked further backstage, heading for her dressing room, she just so happened to run into Jeff, who was clearly waiting for her. "Fantastic show," he greeted her. "Just the kind of thing we needed for our finale."

"What can I say, I know how to leave people wanting more," she humbly shrugged. After all, she was a rather humble person.

"I'm already fielding requests for the troupe. A few are old reliables, but there are some new locales that are worth looking into."

"Jeff, Jeff, Jeff," she tutted, reaching the door that had her family's crest on it. It was something she had found in a box of her dad's old show stuff. It was a stylized Z surrounded by a circle, something that hung on the door. It was removable, so it was easy to just put up on the door rather than have someone put Zatara there. The whole troupe knew what it looked like, and the theater personnel learned it quickly. She opened the door without pausing. "Tonight marks the beginning of a vacation. Put down your phone, put down your day planner, and go take the wife and kids out on a trip. Go to the Grand Canyon; Hawaii; something that doesn't involve your ear glued to a phone."

"Someone has to stay on top of things," Jeff responded. "And I would feel a lot better knowing we have a few bookings in the bag."

"And I say that if these people want us so badly, they can wait a week, or six. Our lives don't revolve around theirs."

"And without them, we have no place to perform."

"You do realize there are parks, right?"

Jeff snorted. "You performing in the outdoors? I don't see that happening."

"If those Shakespeare players can do it, so can I."

"You don't remember the last time we tried that, do you?"

Zatanna paused. She had to admit, she didn't. Had it really been that long?

Jeff smirked, but only for that moment. "Just let me get a few bookings together and then I'll take a break. Happy?"

"Fine, have it your way. I just better not see a date in November. I want a month off at least, Jeff, preferable the rest of the year."

"I think I can make that work, but you do realize every day that goes by without a show is a day we don't make money."

"Consider me aware. Now go do your own voodoo elsewhere. I need to change and hydrate, and not necessarily in that order."

Her manager just nodded before leaving, closing the door behind him. Normally Zatanna would just plop herself in a chair, wallow in the exhaustion she felt, and then start to clean up; you know, wipe away makeup, change clothes, and so on.

This time she immediately got to work. If there was one thing that had been on her mind the entire night, it was what was happening in Salem. John was keeping an eye on things, but it felt wrong to her to not at least finish things before leaving. It was the right thing for her to finish her tour, but it was like cleaning a room, getting most of it done before having to leave for a doctor's appointment and leaving…she didn't know, a wall not dusted. She wasn't one for cleaning, so she wasn't certain what all went into making sure a place was sparkling clean.

The normal thing to do would be to get a ride back to the sleepy little village, but she just didn't have patience for that, so a spell was in order. That way she could actually do some of the afterparty just for appearances sake, but then she could immediately leave.

Zatanna stopped what she was doing, seeing her reflection in the mirror as she blinked her eyes owlishly. Maintaining appearances? Exit plans? That wasn't normally her. She didn't think along those lines. A friend of hers did, and in that moment, she felt as if his voice was in her head, instructing her on how to do things.

It was kinda alarming. He wasn't there, yet his influence was. Damn it, Bruce, get out of my head! she silently demanded. She got back to work, undressing herself, taking small sips out of her slowly depleting water bottle. Perhaps she needed to spend some time in a shower, actually freshen up, do the party thing, and then go to Salem. Yeah, that was a better, more Zatanna-friendly plan.

Yet, she could feel her desire to return gnawing at her in spite of this plan.

The next time she was in Gotham, she was going to make certain her dear old friend knew just how annoyed she was with him at that moment.

Back to the present...

It was supposed to look innocent enough. Just a little clearing in the middle of the woods. Nothing nefarious and the like.

Constantine knew better. He could feel it, that something not altogether human had been here. It permeated the air, an invisible pollution. The grass didn't look dead or twisted; the trees weren't decaying. The sky was cloudless, revealing a lovely full moon.

Yet, you could feel it if you were lookin' in the right place.

Constantine circled around the clearing. He was trying to figure out the epicenter, and from there make certain this non-human entity hadn't made it to this plane. There wasn't the obvious trail of hoof prints around, not the smell of fire and brimstone, so nothing too on the nose here.

He wasn't alone here either. Corrigan was here as well, and he seemed to just walk out to a certain spot in the clearing, and then stopped. He was looking down at the grass pointedly.

"Found somethin'?" the blond-haired Brit called out.

Corrigan nodded. "Something was set here. I can also see…melted wax, most likely from a candle." He paused. "A few candles since the drips are at different spots."

Hmmm, perhaps the redhead had found the epicenter. Good senses, that one. Though, even from the distance he was at, he could tell Corrigan didn't look too comfortable. He had this look on his face like he was havin' indigestion. He even had a hand up, patting his chest as if it would help soothe it.

"Is the pie havin' a little ol' revenge?" he inquired.

"No, nothing of the sort," Corrigan replied. "Something is…calling out…is all. This isn't the time or place for it, so I'm having to…keep it on a leash."

Yeesh, that didn't sound pleasant. Constantine had a faint idea as to what the redhead was getting at. He was also certain the reason for the indigestion wasn't the pie, but the demonic energy left behind.

He couldn't help but sigh. It was just his luck that he had to come across some idiot trying to get in contact with a demon. Salem, was he right? Seeing as he could find a trail leading away from where Corrigan stood, that meant—thankfully—there was no passage of a demon. Contact for certain, but no transfer of a demonic entity to their side of things. That was one silver lining.

Now what were the chances of this going down, and his two top suspects were involved? There was already one ritual killing, now a possible contact with the realm beyond. The odds were good that they were linked, even with this being a cursed town.

Unfortunately, that was a cause for concern. See, if he thought that Rajir guy and his teenage partner were responsible, then they managed to come all of this way without tripping his wards, which wasn't supposed to happen. They were designed to alert him to any movement made by them.

So why hadn't they gone off?

At the least, he was going to have to pay a visit to the antique shop again to see what was wrong with the spell. It wasn't his first option, but there weren't many others around. Chances were the antique shop owner detected the spells and countered them.

Yet, he would have been alerted if someone tampered with the spell, whether that was by destroying it, damaging it, or changing it. That meant the wards were flat out avoided. Couple the fact that he hadn't sensed much magical energy from Rajir, and he rather doubted that was what happened. Too many things weren't making sense here.

In the meantime, he could at least try to make heads or tails of what happened here. "So, any idea what might've happened here?" he then asked.

Corrigan was quiet, considering the question, or he was just ignoring the blond man. Either choice was possible. Then, "Most certainly a contact," he eventually replied. "I don't detect much else. There are no clues left to indicate what was said."

No, Constantine didn't think there would be. That would be too easy. Still, they weren't completely stuck.

"What's the presence tellin' ya?" he then asked. Various entities had a feel to them, which helped to determine just what you were dealing with. Ghosts and poltergeists, demons of the various realms, each had their own unique feel to them, which could be useful if you knew how to interpret it. Both Constantine and Corrigan were in agreement that a demon was involved, and it went without saying that all demons wanted a piece of good ol' Earth, but one from the Nightshade realm and one from Hell had very different capabilities and options to gain entry here.

So if they could pinpoint just where this one was coming from, they could get an idea of what its next move would be.

Corrigan closed his eyes, seemingly in thought. "Not Nightshade," he eventually said. "I do sense a hellion, perhaps Hell."

Well, that certainly soured Constantine's mood. His last encounter with a denizen from Hell had been with the crown prince itself, and that…could have gone a lot worse actually. It wasn't a great meeting, but considering he was still alive and kickin', not to mention the Enchantress hag had been dealt with, the encounter had tied itself up rather well. Still, he didn't look forward to having another slobber knocker with a demon from Hell. It just wasn't good for someone's health.

The blond man sighed. "Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but it's somethin' to go on. Let's get out of here before that chest pain ya got goes full on chest burster, yeah? I ain't Ripley, and you aren't John Hurt."

"I think that is a good idea," Corrigan agreed, backing his way through the clearing. The unease he felt seemed to go away the further he got from the clearing epicenter. Another plus there.

Now Constantine needed to go figure out what the hell went wrong with his wards.

He sensed the fear in his young protege. Johnathan practically trembled the entire way back to the store. For one so young, perhaps it wasn't unexpected. After all, one's first encounter with a being beyond this world was overwhelming.

In fact, Rajir had to admit he was anxious the entire time he had conversed with this Nebiros. Even if the contact was through a channel, a portal created in moonlight, he could feel the evil essence this creature gave off. But, if one wanted to obtain great power, dealing with such beings was inevitable.

You did not hear stories of those who obtained power from angels after all.

Once they returned to his store and retired to the basement, the bald man decided that was the time to assess the boy. "You seem troubled," he remarked, an open-ended statement that would welcome a long answer.

"Is…w-was that n-normal?" Johnathan asked, stuttering his answer.

"You are referring to?"

"What we did. Speaking to that…thing."

Ah. So that was what he meant. "Honestly, I am uncertain," Rajir admitted, "but it seemed to go well. After all, our contact ended favorably for us."

"H-how? How do you know that?" the boy pressed.

"We are still ourselves, and the demon agreed to be of assistance to our master," he pointed out gently. "I am certain you have heard of stories where contact with the beyond did not go well. There is an entire entertainment industry that theorizes on such poor outcomes."

Johnathan slowly nodded his acceptance. "I…I guess so. It was just…I didn't do anything! I just sat there like some…some…idiot! You did everything!"

Rajir placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. He could feel him still trembling, but it wasn't visibly noticeable anymore. "I have seen and lived through much more than you have. I was taught to expect the unexpected. In time, it will be you who converses with dark entities with utmost confidence."

"You…you think so?"

"I do. Now, it would be in our interest to inform our master of tonight's accomplishments."

Johnathan nodded. "That's the Brother Night guy, right? That demon seemed to know who you were talking about."

Yes, it did, didn't it? For a moment, Rajir wondered what it was that Brother Night and Nebiros had agreed to. Normally he wouldn't think of questions, much less ask one, but now he was in a position to do so. It was strange, really. Yet another difference between his two masters.

The agreement in question at least ended favorably for Brother Night, he assumed. If it had not, a litany of possibilities flooded his mind, each not ending well for his benefactor. It went to show that one mustn't discard those who helped them in the past lest another opportunity for interaction arrive.

"I believe I must ask him about their previous interaction," Rajir murmured out loud, more to himself than the boy with him. Johnathan heard him regardless.

"I'd like to hear it too, if you'd tell me?" he began, only to end his words with uncertainty.

"Of course." Rajir dropped his hand from the boy's shoulder. He turned away and walked towards one side of the basement, where he took off the sword gifted to him by Brother Night. He set it down on a wooden stand, one designed for swords of such quality. "I also need to learn our new instructions. After all, we've made a large promise on behalf of our master; it is of utmost importance that we uphold our end of the deal."

"Yeah, yeah," Johnathan agreed. "What…what do you think would happen to us if we didn't, though?"

"That is a line of thinking best not explored. We have only known success thus far, so we do not want to entertain such thoughts. Surely you have heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Yeah, I guess."

And Rajir could feel his patience beginning to wane with the subject. Another face-to-face meeting would be needed with Brother Night, and Johnathan needed to adjust to their new reality. No doubt they were on a ticking clock with that they needed to do next. "Go to your home," he told the boy. "There will be new tasks asked of us soon. I will keep you informed when you return in the afternoon. Don't forget, it is important that you get enough rest."

Johnathan just nodded, his mind clearly in his thoughts. No doubt he was thinking of the worst case scenario, that of them failing. If he continued that, he would find out what happened to those that give into their fears. "I'll…I'll see you later," he murmured before he turned and began walking back up the staircase.

Rajir just watched him go until he heard the door gently shut. Finally, now he could see to the rest of the night's work. He would need to be quick as dawn was fast approaching.

The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. It bathed the sleepy town of Salem in a warm glow, making it rather picturesque.

If she were any more basic, Zatanna would have taken a picture of it and made it the background pic on her Facebook. Her secret, private one, not the official troupe page. No, she wasn't going to give the private one out—the title of private meant something, ya know.

Though, the dark-haired woman had made a mistake while teleporting here. Her spell had simply been to transport her to Salem; what she should have done was teleport herself to Constantine. True, she would have missed the sunrise, but she would have been right where she wanted to be to begin with.

Yet, she found herself just walking down the main street of the town and enjoying the relative silence. Nothing was open from a business standpoint, and the street was empty of all cars, making it seem like the place was abandoned like a ghost town. She knew better, of course; the streetlamps were still on and they were clear signs the town was at least paying its electric bill.

But, like all good things, it would have to come to an end. The chilly air was starting to get to her, and her puffy coat only warmed up her body. Her face was left to fend for itself in the elements. It was only autumn, but it was clear that winter was com…uhh, on its way.

Yeah, let's not inject a random pop culture reference here.

Deciding it was time to take herself to Constantine instead of looking for him the old-fashioned way, she muttered a teleportation spell, and in a puff of pink smoke, she emerged into a dingy motel room.

Blinking her eyes, she looked around, finding the blond man laying on one of the beds. He was fully clothed and looked as if he had sat on the edge of the bed, then fell onto his back at some point. His feet were still touching the floor, shoes on and all. Geez, no wonder he looked as if he slept in his clothes—he literally did!

Now, if she had been in a more playful mood, she would have tried something naughty with the guy. It was tempting even now, but she had her mind in work mode, so the British guy was going to have to miss out this time. Taking a step towards him, she gave his foot a kick with her high-end shoe.

Constantine jolted where he laid. He didn't fly up or anything, but his body practically spasmed where it laid. His head shot up to look towards her, his hands coming up to offer a poor defense, assuming you ignored the magical sigils that appeared around those same hands. Zatanna just raised an eyebrow at him in response.

"Oh, it's you," he grunted before dropping his head back onto the mattress, his defensive magic fading from sight as his hands fell onto his belly. "Let a bloke sleep, will ya?"

"You look like you've slept enough," she remarked before giving the motel room a cursory look. Yeah, it was dingy-looking, something she would have stayed in when she had first taken over the troupe—lodging was expensive after all. However, after doing quite well for herself, she had gotten a taste for finer things, like respectable hotel rooms and room service and places that didn't look as if the mother of all cockroaches would crawl out from behind the wallpaper to say hi.

That…may or may not have happened to her once.

Repress the memory, Zana. Repress…repress…

Constantine grunted at her, or maybe just in general. He was laying there with his eyes closed, so perhaps he wasn't making noises at her in particular. "I just laid down, love. Let me get at least an hour."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what were you doing all night?"

"What else? Looking into that bloody murder scene you can't just leave well enough alone. There be witchcraft in these hills."

"Salem doesn't have hills, but I get your meaning. Who's dancing with Tituba and trying to contact the devil?"

Constantine was silent before he slowly opened his eyes. "You're really not gonna let me sleep until you bleed me dry, aren't you?"

"Oh, you better believe it." A smirk appeared on Zatanna's lips. "You told me I had an obligation that I needed to tend to with my troupe, which you were right about. I've done my part. It's your turn to do yours."

The man grumbled something unintelligible, but eventually moved his hands to his sides, pushing himself up until he sat on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand over his face before he let out a rather large yawn. "Well, I placed some wards around our antique dealer's place, so that I knew when he was out and about. Didn't trip a one of them."

Oh, so nothing really happened. Well, that was good. She hadn't missed anything and there hadn't been any new murders. That was a nice win.

"So he hadn't gotten his taste for blood back. I'll take that," she surmised.

Constantine shook his head. "Nah, things weren't just dull and borin' here, love. I don't have proof yet, but I'm certain our prime suspect got around my wards and went galavantin' in the woods for a late-night rendezvous. We found signs of a demonic encounter."

There was a flash of the Raum demon in Zatanna's mind. She distinctly remembered the twisted, demonic face of her father as the demon possessed his body, turning him into some horrid caricature. Her stomach dropped and went cold from the memory, her face becoming pale. This was the main reason why she missed the first word of that sentence until it clicked several seconds later.

"We?" she repeated. "Demons? What the hell happened while I was gone?!"

"Unfortunately, can't tell ya much there. Found the site where the demon made contact, supposedly with our chief suspect. Pretty certain it was just contact, which is the only good part about this kerfuffle. Don't know what was said or promised, but it don't take Detective Chimp to know it's nothing good."

Okay, so assuming no one dying was the bright spot here had been premature. "How do you know a demon wasn't summoned?" she pressed. "Couldn't it have crossed over?"

"Well, we didn't find any signs of a crossing, so there's that. Trust me, if you met a demon, you'd know when it was around."

Yeah, she could agree with that. She could also trust that Constantine knew what he was talking about. There was none of that smarmy know-it-all attitude in his behavior. He knew just how bad dealing with a demon was.

Zatanna paused at that thought. She wondered just what the blond man's demonic encounter was like. She was pretty certain he had one considering the way he was acting. If it was anything like hers, it was certainly nightmare fueling. Yeah, they had both been there when Etrigan was huffing and puffing, and declaring that he would damn all of their souls to Hell, but it had been a short meeting and quickly resolved.

"There you go with that 'we' again," she couldn't help but point out. "Are you going to tell me if you made a new friend while I was away, or did you outsource part of this to someone else?"

Constantine grunted. "More like an…old acquaintance. Apparently the police here contacted him to look into the murders and he agreed. Bumped into 'em around the antique store and we've…shared notes."

That made Zatanna frown. It seemed the cops here weren't all that bumbling like she would have thought. That they immediately sought out outside help was a credit to them. And apparently the guy they brought in knew what he was doing if he was able to get to the antique store as quickly as he had.

"Is there anything I should know about him?" she asked. "I imagine we'll run into him again before this is all said and done."

Constantine looked up at her. The entire time he had been giving his little briefing, he had been doing a performative dance of rubbing his face and various other actions to wake himself up. He stopped all of that now, his expression very serious. "Don't piss this guy off. He's not like anything you've ever encountered before."

Well, that was ominous. "Are we talking about some kind of ancient evil thing, or this guy is that much of a badass?" she ventured. "I guess what I'm asking—"

"This isn't like Blood and Etrigan. Honestly, I rather you not having anything to do with the guy if I can help it," he interjected.

"Awww, you do care about me," Zatanna tried to tease. Her tone was successful, but internally she couldn't help but feel that this mystery contact wasn't entirely on their side, you know, like a monster hiding in human form just to burst out at the right time. Damn, why did she keep having Etrigan flashbacks on this one?

So naturally, that was when there was a door knock. The two looked to the door and stared at it before Constantine shoved himself up onto his feet, making dad noises funnily enough. You know, the random grunting sounds men did when standing up. He trudged over to the door then, didn't bother to look through the peephole, and just opened the door.

Standing there was this redhead who looked as if he hadn't laughed in years. He was a glum kind of guy, though certainly took better care of himself than Constantine. His clothes weren't rumpled or anything, like they had been put on after being removed from a suitcase. He was also here at an early time, and that set Zatanna on edge.

Of course, this stranger caught sight of her over Constantine's shoulder. "I see you have company," he casually remarked.

"Uhh, who is this guy?" Zatanna couldn't help but ask.