Constantine wasn't one to question another person's actions. They were either done with good intentions, or with malice. Glancing at Zee in the backseat of the car through the rearview mirror, he could see the dark cloud hovering over her head.

The streets were pretty clear, especially after what had happened an hour early. Giant monsters destroying cars and buildings tended to do that. So after jumpstarting a car, Constantine was driving them back to where they had left Corrigan. If the bloke had any sense in his head, he'd still be at the car, or gotten a ride to a nearby hospital. He was kinda hoping for the former because the latter would just be a pain.

Zatanna had gotten into the backseat for whatever reason. He could imagine though. After what she did to Rajir, well, he imagined she had some soul searching to do. That's what he was assuming anyways; good folks tended to dwell on their actions, and Zee was at heart a good person.

Now, he wasn't knowledgeable about the specifics. Apparently Rajir had done…something, to someone that Zee clearly cared about. You didn't do what she did for some stranger, ya know? He had seen the memory, where that one bloke had been dipped into some strange pit, and came out a laughing madman. He knew crazy when he saw it, and that guy had been crazy.

Odd thing though, he hadn't seen a face. In fact, the man's face had been shrouded in shadow, only his eyes and mouth seemingly visible, especially when he began laughing. The blond man had a couple theories, or rather suspicions. The most likely reason was that Rajir's memory of the man had degraded to the point he didn't really recall what the man looked like.

The other was that someone was actively altering it.

A part of Constantine felt that maybe there was more weight to this second one. He may be an expat, someone visiting America for an extended period of time, but there were some things you picked up, even when you were immersed in the world of magick.

Things like that big old bat on laughing boy's chest.

The British man hadn't realized that Zee knew Gotham's big, bad Bat. She had never brought it up. That memory though, said quite a lot. She knew him, and she knew him very well. So much so that she was an emotional mess even now.

The dark-haired gal hadn't wanted to talk about what she had done. She had just turned and left Constantine to handle the mindless lump Rajir had become. Best he could tell, she ruined his mind. The guy was catatonic with drool leaking out of his mouth. He wasn't going to be doing any ninja stuff for a long while, assuming he ever recovered. Figuring they probably needed to let someone know about the mindless guy, Constantine whiped up a cell phone, called the cops, and told them to send someone to the old courthouse. There were strange things going on that needed to be checked. At worst, they'd send a cop car to check things out and find Rajir here.

Which left him with the fallout. See, there were gonna be consequences to this. Zee had wanted to bring justice to the people that killed them kids, and that was looking to be a tall order. One was now the vessel for a demon and the other one might not even know who he is when he came out of his magical coma. Prosecuting wrongs was a big thing in America, so how did ya prosecute men that were only around physically?

That sounded like something for the lawyers to decide.

"Ya want to talk about it?" he eventually asked after a long silence.

"No," the magical gal grumbled.

"You sure?" Constantine kept his eyes bouncing from watching the road to back to the rearview mirror to eye Zee. "What you just did is pretty extreme."

He saw her turn her head to look at him. It was just in his general direction, even if it looked as if she were staring at him from the rearview mirror. "Extreme," she repeated in a deadpanned tone.

"Not for me, love," he quickly corrected. "But you have these morals, see. It's what made you go after those kid-killing bastards instead of Brother Night, remember? If I did what you did, I wouldn't miss a wink of sleep, but I know that's not how you tick."

Zee looked away, staring out the window. Silent treatment, eh? "You want to tell me about what happened between you and that bloke in Gotham?" he ventured.

The girl stiffened. Slowly, she turned to look at him again. "Did you…?" she trailed off.

"See his face? No." It was a little odd saying God's honest truth there. Normally he played with the truth like a kid with a ball. It was a useful trick most times. "But it doesn't take an intelligent monkey to recognize that bat on laughing boy's chest."

She didn't relax. She was still on guard. Curious. "That's none of your business," she finally bluntly told him.

"Sensitive subject, I guess," he shrugged. "I can keep a secret, ya know."

"Not this one." SHe looked away again. "Never this one."

So that's how it was. Constantine felt he could dig a little more, but decided against it. He could always do it some other time, when there wouldn't be interference from her. "Just so you know, Corrigan ain't gonna be happy with what you did to him."

"I don't care," she groused. "He doesn't get to judge me on this one. Neither do you for that matter."

They weren't going to make much progress on this one, so the blond man dropped it. It was hard arguing with the self-righteous types. Besides, their timing was impeccable. Taking a turn, they arrived at the wrecked Mainstreet of Salen, where it was pretty clear no one had gotten around to cleaning things up yet. Slowly, he drove around the wreckage until they reached the rental car they had left Corrigan with.

The private eye was sitting on the passenger seat sideways so that his legs stuck out the open car door. He was leaning forward, a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he grimaced. He glanced at their approaching car as it slowed to a stop.

Constantine lowered the window, staring at the redhead. "You look like shit," he greeted.

"Feel like it too," Corrigan grumbled back. "You're both in one piece, I hope."

"Relatively. We got Rajir, but we were too late from him turning the kid into a demon."

The man grimaced. "And the demon?"

"Got away according to Zee. Brother Night had it spirited away."

Corrigan sighed, then slowly pushed himself out of the car. "We have to find it before it becomes a menace. Rajir should have an idea of where Brother Night has gone."

The blond man glanced towards the side mirror, which allowed him to catch a partial reflection of Zee in the backseat. The tintage of the glass made it difficult to make out details, but he made out her silhouette. "About that. Turns out Zee is familiar with…whatever secret society Rajir used to be a part of. She lost her shit and made Rajir lose his too."

Corrigan's eyes darted to the gal. Zatanna just looked blank, not giving any indication of what she was feeling. "What exactly did she do?"

"Near as I can tell, she wiped the guys mind. His memories certainly, but I get the feeling the guy's a living vegetable for the near future."

The P.I. was silent for several moments. "She wiped away his…person? What makes him…him?"

"I guess. Rajir hasn't woken back up yet, so we really don't know the extent of the damage."

Now the redhead was looking right at Zatanna through the glass. His voice would be heard just fine thanks to Constantine's lowered window. "I do hope you realize that any justice those murdered children should receive is out of our reach now. If Rajir does not remember what he did, how can he be held responsible? That's—"

Zatanna lowered her window and glared at the man. "None of your business," she interrupted. "I did what I did—get over it. You and John can't talk since you were ready to let even more kids get killed. There's no need for justice if you prevent bad things from happening, which is something I did."

"And the ones already dead?" Corrigan pressed.

"You mean the children of Salem? Or what about the men, women, and children in whatever country he comes from? Rajir is responsible for a lot of suffering, and only serving time for a single percent of them doesn't cut it. Now, maybe instead of you lecturing me, how about you get your ass in the car, and we can go get the guys that are responsible for this entire mess?"

Corrigan stared at her before looking over to Constantine. The Brit shrugged his shoulders. He didn't care either way, but they did need to go after Brother Night. That was the only way this would end.

"Do either of you even know where to find him?" the man eventually relented.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Zatanna responded. "Pulled it right out of Rajir's mind. Now, which one of you has an actual plan? I rather not blunder into a trap like you two did."

Constantine couldn't help but stare at the dark-haired woman's reflection in the side-mirror. When had she...oh, when she was wiping Rajir's mind. She must have plucked out any useful info for them before she did it. Perhaps she hadn't been too far gone in her emotions. "Sounds like we're taking orders," the blond man surmised.

"I suppose so," Corrigan agreed.

Brother Night leaned to one side in his seat, his elbow propped up on the armrest so that he could rest his cheek against his fist.

The young Johnathan had changed. The demonic energies that came off of him was evidence of that. The ritual had clearly succeeded with Nebiros taking the boy's soul and placing one of his minions onto this plane.

Yet, to see a demon squatting on the floor, hardly moving a muscle…well, it certainly left much to be desired.

"I don't suppose you have a name," Brother Night casually asked.

"Jyzyl," the demon responded.

He had to resist grimacing at that name. That wasn't the name of one of Nebiros' higher ranked demons. "I don't believe I've heard of you before. Are you…new?"

"I was specifically chosen by my master to assist you."

Specifically chosen. That was at least promising. "What is the reason for your selection?"

"To find a weak point through the barrier."

The barrier? The demon must have meant the one that separated the living realm from the demonic. He had heard of such a thing before, but had no concrete proof that it existed. Little had been written about it, but it had been theorized every so often. It was why lower ranked demons had to possess someone of the living world in order to obtain a foothold. Your hauntings, your poltergeists, all were beings with limited access until they found a potential vessel.

"We may have an issue, Brother Night," Mr. Reaper interjected then. He had removed his fedora, revealing a balding head and receding hairline. Aging hadn't done much for the man.

"And what is this issue?" he drolly responded.

"I was forced to step in when this demon was fighting one of our pursuers, the woman with John Constantine. She clearly had the upper hand until I stepped in."

It took a moment for Brother Night to recall the woman mentioned. It was when Constantine had come to him bearing the Black Sword of Mordred as compensation for his soul. She had been a lovely creature, ripe and succulent. What he wouldn't give to spend a night corrupting her.

She knew magic, which was something he had figured. He had sensed her mystical aura during their encounter. That she was able to wield well enough to nearly overpower a demon was concerning. She was a Homo magi that he was unfamiliar with. That was unacceptable.

"What else can you tell me about the woman?" he inquired.

"I sensed untapped potential in her," Reaper answered. "She is only just touching her power. With the right tutelage, she would be quite formidable. As it is now, she is no threat to the likes of you or me."

Brother Night moved his fist, uncurling it so that he could rub his chin in thought. He glanced back at the sedate Jyzyl. A demon that could be pushed around by a novice mage was not a powerful asset. Not for the first time did he wish that dealing with the demonic entities wasn't more trouble than it was worth.

Though Jyzyl had said he had been sent over to find weakness in the barrier that separated their worlds, all it meant was that it was weak enough to breach the barrier. That was at least something he had learned of the barrier; it was designed to keep the more powerful demons at bay.

What to do…

"It would seem we need to make some alterations to the plan," he finally said out loud, acknowledging their situation. "To achieve our goals, we need to boost poor Jyzyl's power. You wouldn't happen to know of such a way, would you, Reaper?"

"I believe I have one or two methods," Reaper responded, which brought a small smile to Brother Night's face. "When do you need this done?"

"I would say the sooner the better. Rajir can help you in any way you see fit."

There was silence. "About that…" his right-hand man said.

The very tone told Brother Night everything without saying much. "Is my servant no longer of service?" he asked.

"I was not able to bring him with us. That he has not contacted either of us leads me to believe that he did not fare as well as he has had in prior engagements."

Now that was disappointing. Rajir was a loyal lapdog willing to do whatever it was he wanted. You didn't find good help like that every day. "Then we need to act under the assumption that Rajir is of no further use to us," he said blandly. No sense in fretting over things outside of his control. "And with the magic at Constantine's disposal, he'll have Rajir talking about everything he knows."

"So then we need to assume that everything Rajir knows, they know. That would mean they are on their way here—maybe not at this very moment, but in the near future," Reaper replied.

That would be a safe assumption. "Assuming they are on their way here, how long do you need to complete whatever ritual you need to perform?"

"Setting up the circle, having the right sacrifice, and invoking the proper incantation—ten, fifteen minutes," Reaper shrugged. "All we need is blood, the source does not matter."

"Then get to work. I will ensure that you have everything you will need."

Reaper bowed his head before turning and walked away. Jyzyl remained kneeling, but the occasional twitch indicated that it had not enjoyed being regarded as lesser.

But it was, to be frank. Brother Night was offering the smorgasbord of Salem on a silver platter, and this is what Nebiros sends him? It would seem he would have to alter the agreement they had if Jyzyl didn't uphold its side of things.

In the meantime, he had his own preparations to complete. After all, he was expecting company.

Never had Zatanna thought she would find laughter so…repulsive.

Laughter was supposed to be joyful, fun, desired. The first time she had found it reprehensible, it had been from that madman, the Joker. Despite his colorful…personality…he was a monster that thrived on misery and despair. He wanted the whole world to be as ugly as he was, and he tainted everything that could be considered good.

But now she could hear Bruce's deep baritone laughing, laughing, with wild abandon. It was every bit as maniacal as the Joker's. And now it was bouncing around inside of her head, and she couldn't do a damn thing to make it stop.

When she had gone back into Rajir's mind and wiped it clean, she got the rest of that incident. How those Demon's Fang assassins carefully surrounded Bruce, tried to restrain him, and he proceeded to attack. He didn't hold back either. He snapped arms and legs, broke ribs, and he did it while laughing. He had been so destructive, it was terrifying. Eventually, the assassins managed to swarm him, and Rajir had used the butt on his sword to strike Bruce against the back of his head, knocking him out.

What happened after that, she didn't know. The next time Rajir had seen Bruce, he had become that twisted version of himself that she saw at Etemenanki.

She wondered…did Bruce remember any of that? He had his memory restored at Nanda Parbat, but he hadn't really talked about it and she hadn't pressed him. She didn't know anything of his time away from her.

That…that saddened her.

Faintly, she recalled Diana talking to the others, the ones that eventually started that Justice League thing. She had mentioned speaking to the Demon's Fang leader, Ra's al Ghul. He had said…something about why Bruce's memories had been wiped away after being submerged in the Lazarus Pit. There was something about dying, but the rebirth part. What was it? The…pain? Experience? Trauma.

Trauma.

The Trauma of Rebirth.

Is that what that old windbag meant? That the experience of being resurrected was so traumatic that it destroys a person? That it drove them insane? That seemed to line up with Rajir's memory of the incident and Zatanna couldn't argue with it further.

Staring out the window, she saw the city limits of Salem ending as they exited the little suburb. Constantine was driving with Corrigan sitting in the front passenger's seat. Not much had been said after they had reunited, not that Zatanna cared. She knew what she had done to Rajir would have ramifications. Everything in her life seemed to have world-shattering ramifications now, so what was one more?

She ignored the men. They weren't talking either, so it was clear they didn't have anything worth saying. That just left her to her thoughts and of course they had to keep going back to what she had seen and learned. God, this magic thing was feeling more like a curse than a blessing lately. Awful things had only happened around her and they didn't seem to be stopping either. If there was one thing she had learned from Xanadu, it was that magic came with a cost. Was this the cost she had to pay?

Her mouth tightened into a grimace. No way was she going to let her life become like this, where she saw the degradation of humanity in every person she met. Her father had managed to do that, so why not her? He had never seemed to be as jaded as John or Corrigan were. She just had to do things the other Homo magi weren't doing.

For instance, she really needed to check in on Bruce. Yeah, they had parted as amicably as possible, but that didn't mean they had to remain in radio silence. It had been a while since they had spoken to each other. She could reestablish contact, tell him he could confide in her. It would have to be as friends of course, but they could be really good friends. Close friends. Maybe even ones with benefits if they were both somehow single at the same time.

The corner of her mouth twitched up. Alright, maybe not that last one. If she were honest, and she really needed to be, she was not in a good spot to be more than just a friend with Bruce. She knew she had some lingering feelings for him, and right now they did not need to rear their little heads up. She was in a new relationship with a tall, dark, handsome British guy.

He would have to be enough for now.

"You're sure this is the way to Brother Night?" Constantine suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence that had filled the car.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, the dark-haired woman looked to the rearview mirror, where she saw Constantine's eyes looking at her, then back to the road, and then back to her. "Yeah, Rajir knew of some house outside of the city. It was where he and Brother Night first met."

"Doesn't mean he's still using it," the blond man pointed out. "That could have been a one-time thing."

"I apparently own a supernatural house I rarely go see. Doesn't mean I don't own it," she retorted.

That made Constantine frown. "What supernatural house are you babbling about?"

"We'll know with more certainty when we get there," Corrigan interjected. "No doubt the same taint of Club Night will be present at this house if Brother Night is still in possession of it. That also means it'll be his territory, which we'll need to tread more carefully in. We do not want a repeat of our last encounter."

Meaning that they could very well be walking into a magical stronghold for this maniac. That didn't just scream "bad idea." "We better have a plan then," the magician urged. "Like it or not, we're more than likely going to have to go up against Brother Night and whatever other nightmares he has in a place of his choosing, which gives him the advantage."

Both men nodded their agreement. "He'll have that demon with him," Corrigan added. "And we still do not know his need for it. There is also that associate you mentioned that spirited the demon away. In fact, there may be others with sufficient power to make this difficult."

"Let's not guess at what Brother Night has," Constantine murmured. "We got our own little troupe of magic. Zee knows a few tricks; I know a few tricks; and I know you have a few up your sleeve."

"A few I rather not have to use," the redhead countered. "With the demon present, it'll make things…difficult."

Zatanna got the feeling that Corrigan was leaving some important piece of information out. Considering what they were about to do, that did not bode well for them. Like hell was she going to walk into another situation like that without knowing something. "You're going to have to explain that," she bluntly said. "There's no way I'm walking into this house, and you have some monster cursed to you, like Jason Blood and Etrigan. That nearly didn't end well for the rest of here, so spill."

Corrigan turned his head to look at her over the shoulder of his seat. "Perhaps I should do this alone," he said after a few moments. "You may get caught up—"

"Like hell I'm sitting this out!" Zatanna shouted heatedly.

"I had a feelin' you'd say something like that," Constantine said.

Corrigan closed his eyes. "I…can't go into specifics. You could say I have a spell on me that prevents me from addressing it directly. It's powerful, so don't try to undo it either. Now, when we first met, I'd say I'm certain you would have nothing to worry about, Zatara. Constantine would be damned, but you would be left unscathed. Your recent actions, however, may have changed that."

"No, no mystical riddles, or mumbo-jumbo," she shot back. "You need to tell us if we're in any danger if you decide to use…whatever the hell you're talking about. The goal is for all of us not to die, and I won't let you help if you're going to be a risk to everything on the Eastern Seaboard."

The corner of the redhead's mouth twitched up. "Only the wicked and sinful would have to worry about it."

That made Zatanna frown. The way he had said that, it sounded like something out of a church sermon. Considering she had never heard Corrigan speak like that before, it made her feel uneasy. Was there some divine retribution thing going on here? Actually, that was a good enough question to actually be asked. "Is there some kind of divine retribution thing going on here?"

Corrigan thought on that. "That is certainly one way to put it," he admitted. "Let's just run with that description, shall we? If I call upon it, the demon will not be of any concern. Even Brother Night will have his hands full."

Zatanna wanted to keep Corrigan talking about this. Was there something actually holy with what he was talking about? Like God and Heaven, and all of that jazz? However, before she could keep pressing for answers, she noticed Constantine's reflection in the windshield. The dark-haired woman had leaned towards Corrigan as they spoke, which put her head in between the front seats, which allowed her to see the blond man's reflection.

There was a hard look on his face, as if he understood what Corrigan was saying and didn't like it. His hands were clutching the steering wheel tightly too. Actually, yeah, he did know something about this that she didn't. Well, when they finally got to where they were going, Zatanna was gonna pull those answers out of him. He could tell her what Corrigan claimed he couldn't.

Because, yeah, she was not willingly walking into another Etrigan scenario.