The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. They overwhelmed any other smell, which considering the number of ashtrays present, that was a good thing.

Zatanna found herself sitting in a booth, Constantine next to her, this strange red-haired guy sitting across from her. She had gotten a name, Jim Corrigan, but that didn't mean much to her. It was just another example of her being the new girl on the block, and she was kinda getting tired of it.

But that was a personal gripe and not a legitimate point of contention. Constantine and Corrigan knew each other, and there was this aloofness coming from the redhead, whereas the blond was on edge. It was a complete reversal of all the other interactions she had seen Constantine go through, where everyone had a bone to pick with him and he just shrugged it off.

They were in some diner the two had gone to the night prior, which apparently had some good pie. Seeing as it was breakfast time, Zatanna didn't see herself trying out a slice, but if the smells coming from the kitchen were anything to go by, they were in for a good breakfast.

"Alright, I think I'll be the first one to go," the dark-haired woman said, which caused the two men to look at her. Ever since they put in their orders, they had just been sitting there in silence with steaming cups of coffee in front of them, which was kinda counterintuitive. They were all working this murder case, right? Why not share what they knew? "I'm Zatanna Zatara," she introduced herself to this Corrigan guy. "I'm relatively new to this magic stuff compared to you guys, but I'm a fast learner. I also have a little experience investigating things. Now, who are you?"

Corrigan raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, didn't we do this at the motel?"

"If you call John saying 'this is the girl I told you about,' and you, 'the Zatara girl,' then yeah, we did. But I was raised better than you heathens, so I felt a proper introduction was needed," she primly retorted.

The corner of the redhead's mouth twitched up. "I do believe I had a lapse in manners at that moment. I apologize. Hello, Ms. Zatara, I'm Jim Corrigan, private investigator to the supernatural."

That at least cleared up something about this guy. She had been right to assume he knew about the strange and arcane. She could feel something, something old and powerful hanging around him. She hadn't bother to look at him through the magical plane because she didn't see much point. "And what brings you to Salem, meaning why did you start looking into those kids?"

"The Police Chief asked for my assistance. I accepted. Why are you looking into them?"

"Because I was one of the first people to see the scene and I have this sense of justice that makes me want to find the people responsible. It's quite noble."

Corrigan had a small smile on his face now, which was bigger than that small smirk he had on previous. "I like your honesty. I don't see why we can't work together on this."

Constantine grunted before he took a sip of his coffee. That was about all he was willing to say, it seemed.

"Well, I think it's safe to assume my charming friend here has filled you in on what we've been up to, right?" Zatanna ventured.

"As much as he was willing to share," Corrigan confirmed. "And it seems both of our ends of the investigation have led to the same antique store."

"How did you figure out to go there?" the dark-haired woman asked curiously.

"There are any number of places that deal in the trade of enchanted artifacts, be it genuine articles or fakes. I was working my way down a list of them when I encountered your friend in front of the aforementioned antique store. Now, how did you find out about it?"

"Apparently I have some kind of affinity for memories," Zatanna answered. "Constantine and I went to the crime scene and viewed the memory of the murder itself. We found clues that led to the store."

Corrigan leaned forward in his seat, a look of interest on his face. "When you say memories, you actually saw the crime in action? As in you viewed the area's memory of it?"

"I guess? That's kinda what it was, right, John?"

Constantine gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. "A word to the wise: it's best not to share everythin' 'bout yourself to strangers. Some things are best kept secret."

The magician gave him an annoyed look. "All three of us are trying to catch the guy who killed thirteen kids. Jim here seems on the up-and-up, so why not?"

"Some people are more than happy to use such bits and pieces 'bout ya for their own benefit," he replied.

"Spoken from experience," Corrigan muttered.

Ah, and there was the resentment Zatanna was used to seeing from old acquaintances of Constantine. She just knew there was history between them. Though it was odd that they treated each other in the reverse than what she usually saw.

Questions for later.

"Well, it's my secret to tell and I'll tell just about any damn person I want," she snipped back. "Now, here we are, all leads pointing to this Rajir guy and some angsty teenager. We don't have any physical proof of them being involved in the murder, so we need to find some."

"A very succinct summary of our situation," Corrigan acknowledged. "We also know that they're trying to converse with a demon and were successful in contacting one last night. For now, we know the demon hasn't crossed over, but no doubt that is what it desires—all demons want a foothold in this plane, and it wouldn't be that far of a stretch to conclude that our suspects promised it just that."

"And somehow they got around my wards that would tell me when they made a move," Constantine finally added to their conversation. "Which is something I need to get to the bottom of."

"We also need to learn more about Rajir and his understudy," Corrigan pointed out.

"Those seem to be good starting points," Zatanna said. "So why not do both?"

"I'd like Corrigan here to look at my wards too," Constantine responded. "Maybe he can see something I'm not when we check 'em."

"Alright, then have the local cops run a background check on Rajir. Surely they can find something while you check your wards."

The redhead considered that. "That's not a bad idea. I'll call the police chief and ask him to look into him. Surely he can complete that part while we investigate the wards."

"And while you do that, I can see if Rajir is willing to talk about himself to me," Zatanna finished.

That caused both men to frown. "Bad idea," Constantine disagreed. "We've already exposed ourselves to him enough as is. We don't need him thinkin' we're onto him."

The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "All I have to say is that I'm interested in his wares. He clearly has me pegged as one of those girls that likes the crap he's selling. You saw the way his attitude changed when you started talking. If I go alone, he'll think I'm trying to buy something without your interference."

"I'm…not sure I'm following that logic," Corrigan admitted.

"It's woman logic," she shrugged. "It makes sense to me and that's all that matters."

"Well, how can you argue with that?"

"Easy, you ain't doin' it," the blond man declared.

Zatanna gave him a look. "Either you're with this plan, or you're doing it under duress. It's happening, so get with the program."

Corrigan was bemused by all of this. "I have to say, it's refreshing to see someone putting Constantine in his place. For once, I'm glad I came to this haunted little town."

"Sure, laugh it up," Constantine grumbled. "Mark my words, this can only end badly."

For a man that did not go to many places, it was oddly difficult to get in touch with Brother Night.

Rajir had done his due diligence, as he was taught to do, when he first joined forces with the rather grotesque-looking man. He knew Brother Night did not leave his club unless absolutely necessary. He was quite content with allowing others to do his work for him—which ultimately included Rajir.

So when he attempted to call, he had been left on a waiting line for over fifteen minutes. Then a customer showed up, and he had to hang up. Two more calls were made later on, and both ended the same way. He was almost expecting the same result on the fourth call when he finally made it through.

"I understand you've been trying to reach me," Brother Night's voice came over the receiver.

"Many apologizes for having to contact you in such a manner," Rajir apologized. "I, unfortunately, had to see to prospective customers at the store."

"Yes, yes, maintaining your cover," the man brushed off. "What is the purpose of this call?"

"I was able to make contact last night. A demon by the name of Nebiros answered our call."

"Nebiros." Brother Night sounded amused. "It has been some time since I had contact with this one. I hope he was polite to you. He can be quite short tempered, a surprising trait in an immortal demon."

"Not to worry, it was nothing that I could not handle," Rajir was quick to assure. He wasn't familiar enough with the many demons that existed, so he had no frame of reference. His impression of Nebiros was one that wanted what was promised to him, the sooner the better. "He has accepted our offering and has agreed to the reward we offered."

"Excellent! You have done well," his master praised him. A warm feeling welled up within Rajir. It felt good. "I can arrange our next contact in that case. In the meantime, we will need another offering."

The bald man nodded. "More souls? How many?"

There was a pause. "Not so many as your initial one," Brother Night murmured, clearly thinking to himself. "Three or four should suffice, though if you get more, it would not hurt."

So a handful. No doubt they would need to be youths as well. Already Rajir was considering how to obtain those sacrifices. It would be unwise to attempt a second gathering at the previous location, what with the discovery of the first ritual site. He had been keeping track of the press coverage to determine what the police were willing to reveal. So far, not even a sketch had been made, meaning no one had seen either him or Johnathan during their activities.

"And what is this next sacrifice for?" he could not help but ask.

"Why, for power, of course. You have your conduit, so allow them to be first to accept Nebiros' power. A second ritual will be made for you to obtain the same power."

That caused him to frown. "Why not I receive the power first?"

"Because I value you, my dear Rajir. The first rule of dealing with demons is to not trust them on the onset. They can take advantage of those gullible enough to listen to their words. If Nebiros is not careful, he could destroy your body and soul, and that is the last that I want for you. In this instance, if something happens to the conduit, we can use it against Nebiros for more favorable results."

Ahhh, Brother Night was wise. Rajir had not considered this and was certainly glad he knew now. It was also good to know that his master would not toss him aside so readily. "I understand," he acknowledged. "I will obtain the next sacrifices shortly. By what time do I have?"

"Hmmm, an excellent question." There was silence on the phone for a moment before, "I need time to search through my older works to find my direct line to Nebiros. Perhaps a day or two at most. So what's say I give you three days to have the souls needed for our next summoning?"

"Three days will be more than enough time," Rajir agreed. "I and my youngling will see to it that we are ready."

"I have no doubt in your abilities. Contact me when you are ready."

Rajir wanted to say more, but then he heard the bell at the front of his store ring. How he had gotten annoyed with that instrument over the course of the day. It seemed his call with Brother Night was at an end. "Be well and be safe," he told his master before he hung up the phone. The bald man sighed before he ran a hand over his scalp, a calming measure for himself. Soon, he would be done with the farce of running this store. Soon.

Now, he needed to go see about a customer.

The chiming of the bell wasn't as startling the second time through. Zatanna just glanced around and saw the antique store looked pretty much the same as when she had been here last. There were a couple other stands present that weren't there the first time, so she assumed they were new.

The store owner wasn't present, not that that was a big deal. A small place like this, the guy had to be somewhere nearby. Probably in the back doing inventory, or plotting his latest deranged plan, take your pick. So, the dark-haired woman just began strolling through the store, making an effort to look as if she were interested in the limited wares here.

And really, you would think there would be more here. Even just some knick-knacks that time had forgotten the original use for them. Heck, this place could be confused with a small museum, albeit a one room museum.

So she found herself coming back to that porcelain mask. It was perhaps the most interesting thing here, even if it was just plain white. Standing in front of it, she faintly wondered why she was drawn to it.

"Beware the Court of Owls."

Holy shit! Zatanna gasped as she spun around, finding the store owner standing a short distance away, his hands behind his back, a knowing look on his face. Holding a hand to her chest, the magician took several deep breaths. "You scared me!" she eventually exclaimed.

"Many apologizes," Rajir responded. "I did not mean to startle you so."

"Apology accepted," she said after a few moments. Why the hell was her heart beating so damn fast? She had done a number of scarier things in her life, so this shouldn't be making her feel like she couldn't catch her breath. Hell, this hadn't even been a jump scare either!

It took a few more moments, but eventually she calmed down. "So, what was that about a Court of Owls?" she eventually asked.

"Just the beginning of a poem associated with that mask," Rajir told her. He moved to stand at her side, gazing at the mask. "It's only a myth."

"Well, don't stop there," Zatanna pressed. "You can't just start and not give me the rest of it. What's the story behind this mask?"

The corner of Rajir's mouth twitched up. He was clearly amused by her. "Beware the Court of Owls," he repeated before continuing on with the rest of the poem, "that watches all the time. Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime."

The dark-haired woman blinked her eyes. Gotham? This thing was from Gotham? No wonder she had been drawn to it. For whatever reason, she kept going back to that dark and gloomy city, and now she found a piece of it in Salem of all damn places. Seriously, what were the odds of that? Was she somehow subconsciously drawn to anything from that city?

"Uhh, this thing came from Gotham?" she interjected. "How did it find its way up here?"

"Much like all of my wares, it fell into the hands of a collector, who ended up forgetting they had it, and then sold it to my little store," the bald man answered her. "Usually it is a descendent, someone who inherits the piece and wants to be rid of it."

Now that was just sad. "That's a shame," she expressed, giving the mask a pitying look. She could only imagine the schmuck that found it in their grandparent's attic and just wanted to get rid of it. "What is the Court of Owls, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't have too many details, I'm afraid," Rajir admitted, "but from what I was able to research, it was a society of unknown Gotham residents, ones that ruled the city like an American Illuminati. All stories, I assure you."

"Of course. And the mask relates to it how?"

"That, I wasn't able to discern, I'm afraid. The only people I have come across that even know of the Court of Owls are people from Gotham itself, and of those people I found them quite reluctant to speak of them. That is the extent of what I know."

"I wonder why."

"It may have something to do with the second half of the poem."

Zatanna glanced at the store owner. "What's the other half?"

Rajir was silent for a moment before, "They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they'll send The Talon for your head."

Ahhh, it was Gotham's version of a boogeyman story. Perhaps she could ask that one guy she knew if he knew about it. Chances were he did since he seemed to know everything. "I suppose that would keep me in line, assuming I knew about it," she said eventually.

"That seems to be the consensus." There was silence between the two of them. "Would it be fair to say that you are interested in this piece?"

"I think that would be fair. I've always liked creepy and spooky things, and an alleged local myth is right up my alley. I'll have to speak to my other half before I get it, though."

"Of course." Rajir didn't look the least bit annoyed by this. "I do have a question for you, Miss. I couldn't help but notice that the man you were with has been spending much time around my store."

Ugh, don't tell her, Rajir had caught sight of Constantine milling around and realized the Brit was keeping a close eye on the place. That wasn't what they needed, not with their suspicions. She needed to do some quick damage control.

"He didn't come in?" she inquired, doing her best to sound surprised.

Rajir shook his head. "He did not."

"But I asked him to. I wanted him to find out about that poem. You mentioned it the last time we were here, and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I asked him to come here and hear it. Are you telling me he didn't even set foot in here?"

"He did not," he confirmed. "Though I find it hard to believe he would come here only to not come inside."

"That's because you don't know him." Zatanna looked put out, an annoyed expression on her face. "I just know he didn't want to come, the lazy bastard."

Rajir stared at her with a disbelieving look. "Is that…a normal thing for him?"

"Not all of the time, but I've caught him on the GPS tracker in his phone a few times doing exactly what I didn't ask him to do. He tries to get around it by hanging around the store and claiming he's about to go in."

"Ahhh," Rajir seemed to accept that explanation. "Then if you can ask him to stop, I would greatly appreciate it. While I may not see a lot of customers, I do not need someone that may discourage others from coming in."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I'll tell him to cut it out. And since he didn't do what I asked him to do, how about we teach him a lesson."

"A lesson, Miss?"

"How about I buy that mask, you know, without his input."

Rajir lit up. "I see. I believe that would certainly show him."

"Excellent. I can't take it with me right now, but how about I pay for it, and you hold onto it for me for a little while. The last thing I need is for him to see it and demand I bring it back."

"Of course, I can most certainly do that. Will that be with cash or credit?"

Constantine stopped the moment he felt the shiver run down his spine. He turned his head, staring straight at the antique store.

Corrigan stopped as well, frowning at the blond man's behavior. "Is something wrong?" he questioned.

"Somethin' not right," Constantine murmured.

"What is it? I haven't felt anything."

"Zatanna's…buying something."

Corrigan blinked his eyes. "Huh?"

The Brit shook himself. "Sorry, force o' habit. Ol' Zee has a tendency to buy anything that catches her eye. She's not made of money, but you'd be surprised with how quickly she spends it."

"I see. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Depends if she tries to bum some cash off of me."

Corrigan snorted. "Considering all the favors you're known to fling around, I'd be surprised if you had any cash on you at all."

"That's why favors are so valuable. Now, let's check my wards."

The two men had opted to check the ones at the back of the store, where the white van was usually parked. Constantine reached out to them through the mystic plane, finding them immediately.

Or at least what he thought were his wards.

The blond man frowned. What was this he was sensing? If it weren't the fact that he knew exactly where he set up his wards, he would have thought someone else had been by and put up some of their own. He could still pick out his own handiwork, but it was definitely different than what he had made.

Heading for the backdoor to the store, Constantine stopped a few feet from the door, peering through the mystic veil that separated this world from the arcane. He could see his ward as clear as day, the orange circle right where he left it. Except…it looked as if some of the archaic letters were different. And there was a slightly different pattern contained within the ward's outer circle.

"Take a look at this," Constantine gestured for Corrigan. The redhead came up to him and peered through the veil as well. "This looks like mine, but not at the same time."

"You're certain this is yours?" the other man inquired.

"Pretty sure. It's almost as if someone else wrote over it or somethin'."

Corrigan frowned. "I'm sensing your magic…and someone else's. You didn't sense the manipulation?"

Constantine shook his head. "No. And now that you mention that, that worries me."

The redhead continued to study the ward as if it would give up all of its answers. Perhaps it was, but it was hard to tell in the moment. "I feel like…I've felt this before," he murmured.

The Brit raised an eyebrow. "Care to share with the rest o' the class?"

Corrigan seemed to ignore him before he shook his head, more to clear the growing cobwebs between his ears. "Whoever changed your ward is extremely subtle, especially considering how well-versed you are in the mystic arts. When you were staking this place out, did you sense anyone of significant power?"

Constantine shook his head. "No. Not even the store owner and his little gothic puppy. Neither one of them gave off even the hint of latent magic."

Corrigan nodded. "Which means it was someone else, someone powerful." His eyes narrowed. "I think I have an idea as to who."

"Again, share with the class."

"It's faint, but I could swear the feeling I'm getting is similar to the one that committed the Mount Diablo massacre. I've been to the site, long ago naturally, but there is a sinister element that is very familiar."

"So that boogeyman you're chasing messed with my wards," Constantine murmured. "I don't like this."

"Neither do I," Corrigan agreed. "Let's check your other wards and see if there are similar alterations."

That wasn't a bad idea. It would be one thing if one ward had been messed with, but checking the others would confirm there was someone else afoot. Leaving the backdoor to the store, they headed for the van, the getaway vehicle. Constantine checked his wards there and found they too were altered, looking very much like the other ward.

Alright, someone had messed with his work and they did so very well. Drawing his attention from the specific details of his spell, Constantine took it in as a whole to see what the changes had done. It took him a moment to make him realize the changes, as minute as they were, had essentially rendered his wards useless. It was the equivalent of someone snipping a wire in a security system. Effectively, his ward was just a circle of useless magic.

"I wish I could see the guy that did this," he muttered. It had been quite a long time since someone pulled a fast one over him.

"As do I," Corrigan agreed. "I would say it's a shame that a security spell wasn't set up as well, but I get the feeling our interloper would have sabotaged that as well."

That was a good point too. No doubt they would have done a sweep of the location, looking for anything similar to what Constantine had left behind. They would have ensured their presence went unnoticed.

However, they did have an end-around on that one.

"Perhaps we can get Zee to look at this place, using her little talent with memories to look into this place's memory," the blond man suggested.

"If she is up for it, I can't see why not," Corrigan replied. "Let's leave this place and regroup. Any lingering and someone may assume the worst of us."

"Speak for yourself," Constantine responded. "They already think that way of me."