If there was one thing the Yanks got right, it was apple pie. No place in the world made it like the Americans could. No other country had been able to get the right sweetness, the right taste, and hell, even the right crust for the dish. Yeah, there was that slock at those stores, mass produced imitations that couldn't suck the piss out of the true contender, but go to any restaurant that made it from scratch, and you had a real treasure.

Yet, Constantine couldn't find it in himself to enjoy this latest slice of heaven. A large part of that had to do with the company. Sitting across from him in the booth was Jim Corrigan, who had a slice of his own. He didn't seem to be all that bothered as he ate his pie without a care in the world.

As had been suggested, the two had found a diner. The sun was setting, so the light had this old feel to it, like it was slowly dyin'. Heh, if that wasn't a metaphor for life…

Constantine glanced at his slice of pie, only a couple bites eaten from it. He fidgeted with the fork more than used it for its purpose. On the other side of the table, Corrigan was over halfway through, pieces of crumbs left over on the plate alongside the rest of his slice.

Even now, the blond man felt uneasy. Though the world wasn't shaking with every footstep this bloke took, there was an unnatural feeling about him. It wasn't like Jason Blood and his demon Etrigan. If you didn't know the two were connected, then you never would have thought twice about him. You had to know his exploits to know he wasn't a man to mess with. As for Corrigan, his presence radiated something far greater about him. It's what kept most Homo magi in their place when he was about. There was some serious firepower here.

And yet, Constantine had experienced that one once. Got his knickers right out of there as fast as he could.

"You're not smoking," Corrigan remarked as he finished swallowing his latest bite. "You're usually like a chimney."

"The Yanks here have hang ups about my cancer sticks," the Brit shrugged. He wanted to be nonchalant, like he wasn't intimidated, but even now his feet were trembling. As long as the shakes stayed down there, he could play this game.

How he wished the player was someone different.

"Not necessarily a bad thing," the redhead pointed out. "Like you called them, they do cause cancer. Even the secondhand smoke."

"Oh, e'eryone's informed on that. If someone wants the cancer, why not let 'em?" Constantine replied. "It's not like I can just give it to someone else."

"Knowing you, you'd try."

Well…he wasn't wrong…

"Alright, cards on the table," Constantine interjected then. "Why are you in sleepy ol' Salem?"

Corrigan stared at him. "Straight to the point, I see. Well, if you must know, I was invited."

"You? Invited? By who?"

"Captain Leary of the Salem PD. I've helped him with a couple of cases before and he wanted my help with a new one."

Oh, this better not be goin' where he thought it was goin'. "And why would he have need of your services?"

"I think I told you once, but I do help various police stations with supernatural cases. Salem's just ripe with 'em if you know where to look." He leaned forward in his seat. "I would think you would have heard of a case here since it's even made the news."

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific," the blond man played dumb.

"A group of kids, murdered in a ritualistic fashion."

"Oh, that case. Yeah, I've heard about it."

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

Constantine didn't like where this conversation was going. The moment Corrigan name dropped some officer in the local police force, he should have known it would have something to do with those dead kids. On top of that, the bloke was strolling around Rajir's antique store, no doubt having found a lead that brought him there. This was getting quite messy.

As much as he wanted to deny any knowledge, he knew it was of no use. Corrigan knew right off the bat he had no problem lying if it benefited him. Well, actually just about everyone in the magick community knew that about him. Thing was, Corrigan instantly knew which was bullshit and which wasn't. There was no lying with him. So it was best to be frank.

And perhaps leave out a detail here and there.

"As it so happens, I'm workin' that case too," he admitted.

"Are you now? For who?"

"A bleedin' heart, if you catch my drift."

Corrigan raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I do. Were you hired to investigate too?"

"Nope, just happened to be in the area when it happened." Constantine paused for perhaps half a second before he looked directly into the redhead's eyes. "I didn't have anything to do with it, just so ya know."

"I appreciate the reassurance." The corner of the man's mouth twitched up, belaying his humor. "Still, I can't see you of all people willingly helping out to solve it unless there was something in it for you."

"Tell me 'bout it," he grumbled. "All I can tell ya is that it's a girl tuggin' at my heartstrings."

Corrigan stared at him. "Poor girl. Who is this one, if I may ask?"

"Zatara's girl. Goes by Zatanna."

The man stared at him. "John's girl?" he couldn't help but reply incredulously. "I hadn't known she had begun experimenting with magick." His eyes then sharpened on him. "And with you of all people."

"What can I say, she's takin' a likin' to me."

"Like a moth to the flame. I hope you know what you're doing. Considering your…reputation, I'm certain John Zatara would come out of his grave to come after you if you hurt her." A slight frown then appeared on his face. It was a worrying look to be honest. "Or…perhaps he's already sent a dark angel already."

"Dark angel?" Constantine repeated. What was this nonsense?

This time the redhead's mouth formed a real, albeit small smile. "All I have to say is be careful. I sense that our late acquaintance has seen to his daughter's safety. You'd be watching the shadows very carefully if you do anything unbecoming."

That sounded ominous. While he had never met John Zatara, his reputation spoke for himself. And if that guy had left behind a spell that would protect his daughter, then he wouldn't be surprised. Though it was odd it hadn't kicked in back at the House of Mystery…

"Well then, back to the conversation at hand," Corrigan then changed the subject. "Mind telling me what you've found out about the case?"

"Only if you share with me what you've found," Constantine replied.

"I suppose I could."

"Then suppose right. It'll help the girlie relax when we have this penny store mystery solved."

A knowing look appeared on Corrigan's face. "For Zatara's sake, I suppose. You first."

And that forced his hand. He wasn't used to that, usually letting his opposite number blurt out what he wanted to know before he had to give up much of anything. So much for that plan this time. "Well, Zatanna just happened to be the one that found the scene. Thirteen kids, bloody as hell, arranged in a sacrificial circle. Figured the kids, at least a few of 'em, went to the same school. Didn't find much looking around the school, mostly searched for where the getaway vehicle was."

Corrigan nodded. "They all did come from the same school," he confirmed. "Continue."

"So we went back to the scene and did a little magick. Discovered there's two perps along with their getaway vehicle. We tracked it back to a store where you and I bumped into each other. I've been staking it out all day."

"What kind of spell did you use?"

"One that looks into memories. That seems to be Zatanna's talent. She's learning the in-and-outs of it, but she's starting to figure out what she can do with it."

"What can you tell me about the suspects?"

Constantine shook his head. "I think I've told ya enough, at least until you tell me more 'bout your side."

Corrigan stared at him. "Very well. I can tell you that this murder is very similar to one that happened at Mount Diablo."

That caused the Brit to perk up. "Diablo…" he murmured. "I think I recall hearin' about some mess happenin' there."

"Then allow me to fill you in: thirteen children were kidnapped and killed on the mountain. A suspect was arrested, but they were able to leave without difficulty. It was reported that every person in the police station just stopped moving. The suspect then left right out the front door."

Constantine whistled. "That's no mean feat there."

"Uh huh." Corrigan leaned back in his seat. "It's your turn again. You have some suspects. What can you tell me about them?"

Hmm, this guy knew how to play this game too. Now that he thought about it, most people seemed to do this song-and-dance with him. "There's two of 'em," Constantine answered. "They had their faces covered naturally, but while scoping out the store, I did meet a guy in there. He has the look, ya know? He's been around death and has no problem with it."

The redhead nodded. "And the other?"

"A kid, someone in that whole goth scene."

An eyebrow raised. "What makes you think a kid is involved in this?"

"How many tortured youths do you know hang around antique stores without being way too into 'em?"

"Point. So that's who you know is involved, or who you suspect is involved?"

"Suspect, but I got a hunch I'm onto somethin' 'ere." Constantine gave a pointed look to his counterpart. "What brings you to that particular store?"

"Just following up on my own lead. Considering how ritualistic the murders were, I thought to look into places that were known for selling enchanted artifacts, or at least claim to."

The blond man nodded his understanding. "Looking for anyone that remembers an odd customer."

"That's right. That's how I found you and you found me. Pretty much catches us up to speed, doesn't it?"

"I'd say so."

"What's the world coming to?" a female voice declared in disgust.

The two men glanced away from each other and saw one of the waitresses looking at a television hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the diner. There was some sort of news program, a reporter lady front and center holding a microphone. There was a banner at the bottom titled THEFT AT PIONEER VILLAGE.

Constantine and Corrigan stared at the television, the audio either too low for either of them to hear, or it was off entirely. The screen switched to one of the many houses that were at this village, a time capsule of times centuries ago. However, it did linger on a picture of a mirror in one of the houses.

A silver mirror.

"Someone stole a mirror?" Constantine questioned.

"A silver mirror," Corrigan corrected. He clearly caught that detail too. "One belonging to one of the women most likely killed during the Witch Trials."

That was not a coincidence. In their line of work, such things were never a coincidence. With dead kids in a ritual circle, and now a mirror stolen by someone once accused and convicted of witchcraft, well, let's just say something was rotten in Salem.

"I think I would like to meet these suspects of yours." Corrigan turned around, looking directly at the Brit. "I'd like to see this mismatched pair and get a very good idea on their thoughts on death."

The salt from the sea filled their nostrils. They were close to the ocean, the night's darkness hiding them. Only tonight's full moon provided them light, all they would ever need.

Tonight was the night. The sound of grass crushing beneath their feet, the chirping of crickets was all they heard. Rajir led the way, Johnathan bearing the burden of carrying their supplies. They had to be careful as there was a police presence nearby, no doubt a result of their previous work. The local police would be keeping their eyes on wooded areas to prevent more mischief.

It was to be expected, and something Rajir had taken steps to avoid.

Entering the trees of Salem Willow Park, the two ventured deep into the woods. There was one area they were going to. According to legend it was a clearing that had started all of the true mischief that stained Salem. This clearing had been the place where a number of girls had sung and danced and played with a slave woman, doing so bizarrely enough for the girls to claim they were victims of witchcraft from the Devil's servant.

Such senseless bloodshed, but now it served a purpose. It created a door, an entry way for the supernatural. Conversely, it gave them access to seek out such beings from the safety of their realm. That was what tonight was all about.

It was several minutes before they found the clearing. Overhead, the moon loomed large. It was as if it were waiting for this very moment. Raising his arm up, Rajir looked at his wristwatch, seeing it was several minutes before three in the morning—the witching hour.

Both he and Johnathan were dressed in black. All that wasn't was their heads. They didn't need to be detected, not at this time. His young charge set the duffle bags carefully down on the ground. "Is this it?" he whispered lowly.

Rajir nodded. Then he looked at the youth before giving him a sharp jerk of his head, indicating he should begin the preparations.

Johnathan immediately got to work. He was careful to unzip the bags before he pulled out their supplies. A number of candles formed a circle, specifically thirteen of them. Johnathan then pulled out the silver mirror and placed it within the circle.

It was then that Rajir joined in the preparations. He dug a finger into the dirt right next to one of the candles, and drew a line between it and another candle. He did this for all of them until he connected each candle with its neighbor with a line. Then he began drawing lines from each candle to the mirror. Once that was done, he began drawing various symbols throughout the design.

Once he was done, he took a step away, which allowed Johnathan to begin lighting each candle, using a lighter to do so. One by one, each candle lit up, orange flames dancing on the wicks. Rajir spared another glance at his watch, seeing they were two minutes away. Looking to the mirror, he could see the moon's reflection in it. Everything seemed to be lining up.

Quietly, patiently they waited. Eventually the clock struck three, the beginning of the witching hour. It was only then that Rajir began murmuring under his breath the incantation he had been taught. Some of the words were in another language, others were just pure gibberish, but together they formed something quite powerful.

A breeze blew in from the sea, washing the two in its scent. The candle flames wavered in the wind, but held strong. Johnathan stared intently at their ritual circle, his excitement growing.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the mirror began to glow. It was soft at first, the light dimming away before it returned, a little stronger before it faded away again. This kept going until the glow reached its full strength, never wavering now. The flames burning at the candles turned black, still melting the wax that held their fuel.

A light then shot up from the mirror's face. It was dark blue in color, forming a pillar perhaps six feet into the air. The sides of the pillar of light stretched outwards as something black seemed to force its way into their world. It made the pillar become rounded like a portal, though its top and bottom parts were pinched off.

There was no sound to this, for which Rajir was grateful. The light was enough to draw attention; they didn't need to remove all doubt to any spying eyes that something was happening here.

"This is so cool," Johnathan breathed.

"WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?"

A deep voice echoed out from the portal. It was actually startling. Rajir kept one hand on the hilt of his black sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Staring into the blue-lined portal, he soon noticed a pair of eyes outlined in blue flames staring back at him. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight.

Just what was this creature?

Rajir had to fight down his sudden trepidation. This was why he was here. This is what all of his time in servitude to Brother Night had led him to. He could not pass this opportunity up.

"Greetings," he responded at last. Thankfully, Johnathan kept his mouth shut, for which he was thankful. The youth stared on with wide eyes that looked as if they would pop out of his skull given any more provocation. This was their first meeting with this unknown creature and they could not afford to make a poor impression. "We are emissaries of Brother Night, sent here to reach out to you."

"BROTHER NIGHT. I HAVE NOT HEARD THAT NAME IN SOME TIME." Despite how deep the voice was, it wasn't booming or loud. It just felt as if it were consuming all sounds around them to where it was the only thing anyone could hear. "WHY HAS HE SENT YOU?"

"He says to renew his end of your decades' long bargain," Rajir replied. At this time, he held up the opaque jar with its small lights. "An offering for you."

"I SENSE SOULS."

"Indeed. Thirteen of them, all to your tastes."

There was this sense of approval. "AN APPROPRIATE OFFERINGS. TO WHAT BIDDING DOES BROTHER NIGHT WISH OF ME?"

Rajir straightened out his posture. "Power. He wishes for your blessing once more so that he may assume his proper role in this realm."

"AND HOW DOES HE PROPOSE TO REPAY ME FOR MY EFFORTS?"

The bald man could not help himself as he took a step back with one foot, pivoting until only his profile was facing the portal. He held up an arm, gesturing to the woods behind him. "Beyond those trees is a land ripe with negativity and old magic. Beyond that is the puritan city on a hill. All of this for you should you aid us."

There was silence, which Rajir could only hope was this entity's way of considering the offer. The seconds seemed to stretch onward for some time, which only served to increase anxiety.

Then, "I ACCEPT THESE TERMS. TELL BROTHER NIGHT THAT NEBIROS HAS AGREED TO AID HIM ONCE MORE."

A small smile appeared on Rajir's face. This had gone just like Brother Night had said it would. He was finally proving his worth. His new master would be thrilled.

"I will tell him at once," he assured their contact. "He will be most pleased to resume your partnership."

They had left the diner some time ago and were just walking around aimlessly in the streets of Salem. A mix-match pair they were. At least they were dressed for the occasion.

"That is a rather unique pair," Corrigan remarked, his head tilted back as he stared up at the sky. It would have been a starry one, but the Yanks just put up too much light pollution to get a good look at it. Made the mess of inky black darkness just black and without the twinkling beauty.

"Which is what caught my eye," Constantine agreed, his hands shoved into his coat's pockets. He lazily glanced around them, a safety check since they were in an American city. Crime was a problem and he didn't feel like getting mugged at three in the morning.

Not that they would. He had a deterrent right next to him that caused those with ill feelings to want to avoid him. A perk of the job, he supposed. If he had it his way, he wouldn't be with Corrigan. They had just got caught up in their little meetin'. The diner wasn't one of those 24-hour ones—a concept the Yanks actually had right for once—so they had to vacate and had been wandering around aimlessly ever since.

Well, perhaps not aimless. There were familiar landmarks that told him they were on their way back to the antique store. Considering none of his wards had been tripped, it seemed like an ideal place to go learn about their pair of suspects.

A thought occurred to him then. "Since ya got a sweet gig with the local PD, mind doing a search on these two? Maybe you can find out more on them."

"Perhaps for this Rajir person," Corrigan agreed. "But I would need a name for this teen in black you saw. Description alone only gets you so far."

"I'll see what I can find out for you there," Constantine nodded. "It's the least I can do since you're helpin' out."

Corrigan grunted. "And the least is all that—"

Both men froze in mid-step then. Their faces went slack, eyes widening with realization. Neither one of them had to say anything; they both knew why the other had acted the way that they had.

Something dark and foreboding had breached this world. Its malevolence pricked at their senses rather than bashed them in the head with its power. The sensation wanted to, but it was held back by…something. If they hadn't been the accomplished mages that they were, they would have trembled from its darkness.

"You feel it too," Constantine said as he turned his head to his companion, a statement that left no doubt as to what he was referring to.

Corrigan nodded, returning the blond man's look. "I do. It has been awhile since I felt something so unholy."

Well, that was perhaps a good thing. Unholy things had a way of twisting the world around them. It was debatable whether that was intentional or just a side-effect of such power, but it really didn't matter so long as it didn't make itself a nuisance. Problem was, more times than not, it made itself an issue that needed to be dealt with.

Which is where people like them came in. Well, maybe men like Corrigan; the Brit was debatable by his own admission. Regardless, someone had to take care of it before it made itself a bigger problem.

"It's pretty strong," Constantine remarked, his head turning so that he could look down the street. That dark presence was somewhere in that direction, his internal compass telling him it was out towards the ocean.

"But not entirely here either," the redhead replied. "I can feel it being repressed. It may not have entered this world yet."

Well, that was something anyway. The last thing they needed was the source of that demonic presence. Constantine could think of a couple reasons why such a being would be entering this realm and none of them were good. What were the chances some idiot teenagers were playing around with a summoning circle and accidentally pulled over something ungodly? It happened more often than you would think. A big reason why you hadn't heard of those stories was because none of them made it out alive.

That included the final girl. Final in this case meant the last to be consumed, which wasn't the most enviable position, he'd know.

"Can ya figure out its location?" Constantine then asked. "I rather not guess where it's at and end up running around this gloomy lil town."

Corrigan's eyes glazed over, no doubt the bloke was trying to do what the blond man asked. That would take a second, so he glanced around them. Last thing they needed was to get jumped, especially with his fellow mage distracted. Didn't matter if it was a lonely, mischievous spirit, or some hoodlum lookin' for a quick score, they didn't need the complication at that moment.

That was when Corrigan's eyes sharpened and he was mentally back next to him. That seemed to coincide with the sudden lessening of the dark presence. Either it was coincidence, or Corrigan's search had exposed him to the entity and the demon was trying to hide itself now, not that he blamed it. It had the added benefit of that constant prickling feeling fading into the background and not being as prevalent. "They're to the east," the red-haired man stated. "They're in some sort of wood or forest."

"That's a start," Constantine said as he began walking again. Corrigan was quick to match his pace, the sound of their footsteps echoing throughout the empty street. That was either a sign of their heightened senses, or the blond man was just starting to pay attention to it. He hoped it was the latter. "Any idea on what we're up against?" he asked.

"Nothing good," the redhead told him grimly.

"Since when is dealing with a demon a good time?" he returned. There wasn't a reply, not that there needed to be. They both knew they were heading into something that could go south real quick. All things being equal, he would have preferred to skip it. Unfortunately, he was committed, so he would see this thing through.

Bollocks.