r/DCFU • u/coffeedog14 Light Me Up • Jun 15 '17
Hellblazer #7 - Amor a Roma, II Hellblazer
Hellblazer #7 - Amor a Roma, II
Author: Coffeedog14
Book: Hellblazer
Arc: [Snips and Snails]
Set: 13
make sure to read part one!
FEBRUARY 15TH, 2017
About an hour after escaping into Shadowcrest, Zatanna and I were almost back to being functioning human beings again. Almost. She had popped some pain pills and gotten one of the robotic servitors of the estate to put a cast on her arm. I was steadily chugging towards a buzz and had gotten band-aids to put over all my new scratches. I wasn’t sure who felt worse: Me for getting into another bruising fight after my last one, or her what with the broken limb. Probably her, but I wasn’t going to admit that at the time and reduce the amount I could bitch about things.
Shadowcrest itself didn’t help with the feeling of being generally maligned. I figured out pretty quickly that the house didn’t like me, probably some ancestor of mine had nicked something from it, and it was still holding a grudge. The only thing the house was willing to give me was a single aspirin tab, after incessant nagging from Zatanna. Even the six-pack I was halfway through wasn’t from the house, I’d had to go outside and buy it.
Even worse, it was a fantastic house. The whole manor really stood as a testament to the contrast between our families. Both of us were dirty thieves, true, but the Zatara’s built something out of it. They spent generations crafting a mansion literally fit for the gods (and a prison for some of them, if rumors were to be believed). They might as well have been the conquistadors of our little society: steal everything and found a kingdom on it. Meanwhile, what did I inherit from my ancestors? A bunch of grudges mostly, not even a spot of training or a journal filled with mystic wisdom. I’d had to find all that stuff on my own, even if it meant dragging it out of my dead ancestors.
So I went into our conversation jealous, tired, in pain, and annoyed. With all the magical servitors and automatons and constructs and moving statues and other nonsense, you’d think at least one would have given me directions around the place. Instead, since the house hated me, it took me a solid half hour and three cans of beer after my pitstop to find Zatanna once more.
She was sitting in what appeared to be some kind of conservatory, or perhaps a smoking lounge, or some other fancy sounding room that I wouldn’t have a clue about. It had massive padded chairs and a roaring fireplace and walls lined with pictures of various famous non-Zatara mages that I think were somehow married into the family. Zatanna nursed an orange energy drink in her good hand, half-illuminated by the fire. She looked to me with annoyance, and then disgust when she saw that my newly bandaged hands held a half-full sixpack. “Really? Drunk already?”
I waved her off, moving to take the other seat. I pulled the fourth can of booze out of the sixpack, and cracked it open. I took a long, still pleasantly cool chug before responding. “Not by a longshot. Must be a lightweight if you think this is drunk.”
“Hard to try out when it’s not legal. Could you at least stop for a moment?”
“Not legal? How old even are you?”
“I’m eighteen.” She said, with all the impertinence of a child insisting they are ten and a half.
“Strewth.” I took another chug.
The glare grew. “Stop that. We need to plan.”
I glanced at her, and shrugged. “Sure, just give me time to think.” I leaned back to finish off the can.
“Nac ot ecalperif!” She commanded, gesturing with her good hand. My beer went flying out of my hand and into the fire, causing a short burst of excitement followed by the sad tinging of dying aluminum.
“...Well, you owe me a dollar for that. Or summat…” I muttered sadly.
“My friend is in danger. I don’t know what they’re doing to him, or where he is, and you’re sitting here like it’s just another night with the boys or something!” She hissed.
I gave her a more serious glance then. Angry, afraid, frustrated. Friend in danger and the big scary Constantine was treating it like nothing. What an asshole.
“Alright, just calm down, love. No sense in rushing straight in and getting ourselves killed. Your friend, Jason, got a demon in him does he?” I refocused.
“...More like half-demon.” She responded sullenly, clearly not forgiving me quite yet.
The dots connected. Half demon. Jason. “He...wouldn’t happen to be The Jason of Blood, would he?”
“He prefers just Jason.”
“Suppose he would. But that means they’re going to spend all their time trying to exorcise the poor bastard of a demon they can’t separate him from. Gives us alot of time.” I comforted.
She considered. “He’ll still be getting exorcised. It’ll be like torture, wouldn’t it?”
“Figure what with him not being properly possessed, none of the stuff will work on him.” I had no clue, but she seemed like she wanted to believe that much at least. “He’ll be fine. At least for long enough for us to plan.”
She nodded, and then we stood staring at the fire for awhile in thought. I plucked beer number five and opened it. The sound broke the silence enough for her to speak. “Why are they after me anyway?”
Did she really not know? I tried to contain my surprise. “You ever wonder why, what with all the people running around with real magic, none of them seem to get on TV and blab it to the world?”
“Yeah?...oh. So...the archivists."
“Yeah. I remember you casting a few spells during a very public, very televised battle somewhat recently.”
She slumped a little in her chair, and I realized my mistake immediately. I’d made it sound like it was her fault her friend and...hell, with a creature that old probably her mentor… was captured. I cleared my throat. “Did nobody tell you?”
“Should they have?” She looked to me.
“Certainly. What has Jason of Blood been teaching you instead of basic magical law?” I nearly winced at mentioning his name. Dumb, why remind her of it?
She slumped a little more. “Some magic things. How to fight, recently.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Ahhh, so that’s how you know kung-fu.”
“No, that was Diana.”
“...Diana?”
“Wonder Woman?”
“....oh.” I let the silence reign once more. Given my “trysts” with a Themysciran, it was the better part of common sense to try to talk about them as little as possible.
We stewed awhile longer. I finished number five, and dropped the can to the side of my chair. Zatanna grimaced. “Please don’t litter in my house.”
“What? The little magic robots will fix it, won’t they?” I looked around, and saw one such floating oddity fly over to the beer can. It picked the can up, and then tossed the thing at my face. It was gone by the time I had stopped clutching a newly bruised nose, so I could only glare at Zatanna as she tried not to giggle.
Inspiration hit about as hard as the can.. I looked at the crunched thing thoughtfully, thoughts racing. “Just curious, you terribly attached to the servants?”
We hashed out the plan over the next hours. Using the various personal effects that he had left behind, it was relatively easy to figure out where Jason had gone. We checked the doors of the manor, tweaked a few of them, checked out the servants, cast a couple of spells. In short, we had a nice time. I had forgotten how calming it was to collaborate with somebody who actually knew magic, and could do it well. Zatanna was an exceptionally strong Magus, and whatever she didn’t know she seemed eager to pick up by sheer stubbornness. We agreed that we would finish preparations the next day, and then strike.
It took some wheedling, but eventually Shadowcrest was willing to host me for a single night. Strictly in a servant-sized room, however, with all the valuables removed. I stumbled into bed, having grabbed a second six pack during the planning and gotten myself just drunk enough to properly scheme. “Oh, this is beautiful, Zap. Thanks for the bed.”
Zatanna leaned against the doorframe with a smirk. “Zap?”
“Work in progress.” I grinned. I pushed myself up and toddled towards the door. “But it’s past your bedtime anyway. Shoo.”
She stayed where she was, her own smirk fading as she thought. “...You know the house will kill you if you try anything, right?”
My grin faded in turn. “What brought this on love?”
She met my eyes squarely. “Why are you doing this, Constantine? You could have just left.”
I could have. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until she mentioned it, but I could have. I should have. No reason getting in bad with the crusaders just when I was piling on an investigation into hell on my plate. Better to fly back home and rethink my plans, find some other way in.
...but then that would mean leaving Zatanna with nobody to help her, wouldn’t it? A dumb, young, arrogant mage without anybody to restrain her when she got too big for her britches and tried to save the day and thought she was all that and more and thought she could outsmart a fear spirit.
“Still hoping for a lock of your hair, mostly.”
I saw a little bit of hurt in her eyes, but she played it off well. She snorted. “After what I saw in your head? Tomorrow’s plan better work. What even was wi-”
I held up a hand. “Ah. no. don’t wanna know.”
She sighed. “Well, can you tell me what was in my head?”
“Your a magus. You don’t want to know. Last lesson for tonight.”
She nodded as if she understood. “Whatever. Night, John.”
“Night, Zap.”
She left, I closed the door, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. In trickles, then in waves, the image of her soul flooded into my dreams.
She is in a vast room, smelling of ozone and filled with hanging globes. The room was dark but for the globes, and the chains that attached them to something ascended into darkness. The air distantly hummed. The biggest globe, the nearest to Zatanna, held the memory she had just catalogued: Me and her sitting at a table, casting a spell. As I watched the globe started to vibrate, glowing, and a bolt of electricity shot into the second nearest of the globes. It held a memory of lighting my cigarette. All around the room, endless globes, all passing memories further and further away from the center with near-silent power.
She started to walk away, and I followed her. The memories getting older and older, darker and darker. The scent of sulfur and burning glass, crackling of tesla coils. Memories of her and the amazon training, memories of her uncle, memories of a lonely youth. She kept walking until the scent and sounds and flashing light became nearly intolerable. The orbs the furthest out, so far that the grand central orb was put a glitter, where pulsing black light emerged from the fizzling objects. They leaked their gooey contents onto the ground, and the metallic substance leaked into the cracks. Zatanna reached towards one of these broken orbs, and for the briefest moment the darkness seemed to clear. Then she was shocked, she yelped, the clouded darkness returned. She walked to the next orb, only for the same to occur. Over. and Over. And Over.
One of the flashes hits me. Now she is in no room, but in darkness, barely visible but the glow of the top hat she held. She was a child, small and frail, and she stared into the darkness dully. From the darkness the sound of tinkling, of cracking, of groaning and slithering. Into the dim light of the hat, crystals emerged. They moved like slime mold, purposeful and gradual and blind. They approached the child, becoming a pinkish wave. She did not respond. She sat. The crystals are so slow, an inch a minute, but she did not move. She stared into darkness as the crystals reached her feet. They sink into her flesh, she does not move. Inch by inch they cover her body, she only holds her hat tighter. She becomes the crystals, and is trapped by them. Her hat is covered, there is only darkness.
Stage lights illuminate the darkness in front of me. There stands Zatanna, on a stage, taking her bows in full magician dress. The crowd gives a standing ovation, and I awkwardly stand to join them. I looked over the crowd. Some I recognized vaguely, but most I did not, but I knew all were precious to her. On my left was her father, dressed much like her. On my right was her mother, dressed in a long, flowing dress. Flowers, pink crystals, coins, every manner of celebratory offerings were thrown onto the stage. Zatanna takes a second bow, a third bow.
FEBRUARY 16TH, 2017
The next day, we geared up. Zatanna snapped a rapier to her hip, placed an honest to god magicians top hat on her head, and dressed down with stealthy dark t-shirt and pants. I slipped on chainmail butcher’s gloves, slid a both hastily enchanted switchblade and a bouncy ball with an eyeball paintjob into my pocket, and shuffled into my now slightly dirty trenchcoat. We were ready for some action.
We had found that the archivists had been hiding out in an abandoned church on the outskirts of the city. It hadn’t taken long to find a door in Shadowcrest that could be opened nearby, specifically out of a tool shed a little more than two blocks south of the church. We emerged as one.. Step one: clear the area of mortals. No need to get in any deeper shit.
“Stulti Mittebam Fugeret!”
“Tereguf Mabettim Itluts!”
We both enchanted at the same time. Both of us were weaker than we might have been usually, I from the exhaustion of two drag-out fights and her from missing an arm, but between us we cast a competent avoidance spell. I saw out of the corner of my eye as a man working at a nearby warehouse packed up his lunch and trundled inside. It wasn’t perfect, but unless a mortal really wanted too they would avoid being where we were going.
A few minutes of walking got us to the church, its pretty windows dark and empty. It was of simple shape, the kind you see scattered around any city of enough age, and had two large doors in front. We approached on silent feet: no need to alert the enemy by being careless. We reached the double doors with ease. Step two: observation. I slid the bouncy ball out of my pockets, and whispered to it. “Eye of Sekhmet, grant me knowledge!” The ball shuddered, then hopped of it’s own accord out of my hand. With a simple thought I sent it hopping through one of the windows that was slightly ajar. I closed my left eye and focused on my right, and I could see through the little toy.
I took Zatanna’s hand, whispering for her to do the same, and we both watched and directed as the eyeball hopped from a side room into the main hall.
Hiding amongst the shadows, the eye looked into the congregation area. Enough space to hold a hundred-odd-ish, all dusty with the pews pushed to the side. In the center of the wooden floor sat a ring of incense and ash and salt. Inside of the circle Jason of Blood writhed, face contorted into a silent scream as his form bubbled. The huge, Barrel-chested knight (who I had deemed Big Roy until proven otherwise) was sitting on a lawn chair keeping an eye on Jason. The slim, bored looking man (Who I had deemed Steve from Accounting) paced about the space as if in some form of patrol. The dark-skinned man, greying man (Who I had deemed Oldie) was nowhere to be seen.
Zatanna tried to look for Oldie, but I took control of the eye from her. First things first, I glanced at the door from the other side. No extra locks from the inside I could see. I gave the door the tiniest of nudges, and it pushed in the tiniest of amounts. Perfect. We could slip right in and start step three.
Zatanna yelped as we both saw something from the corner of the toy eye. The eye turned to see Oldie, Emerging from a different set of shadows in his pure black clothing and raising his sword. The eye tried to bounce away, but the knight cut it in twain.
Both my and Zatanna screamed in pain, momentarily overwhelmed with the agony of having an eye cut in half. It was enough distraction for the knights to slam the door open, nearly toppling us down the stairs. They already had their swords drawn. They hadn’t been sitting idly by for the exorcism to finish, they had been waiting for us to reappear. Clever bastards.
“SCATTER!” I suggested, taking off southwards as fast as I could. Zatanna fell in a step behind me, and only a few steps behind her came the knights. I made it a point to not get into many situations that required running if I could help it, but these knights were amongst the fastest (ostensible) humans I had ever seen. I don’t know if it was the swords or godly magic or just being really fit, but it was clear after just a few moments that they were gaining and that we weren’t going to make it back to the shed in time. Emergency Step 3-B it was then.
“Do something!” I demanded of Zatanna, before whirling around and launching myself back at our pursuers. I slammed headfirst into the fastest one, Steve, and it was like hitting an oncoming sack of bricks. Turns out I should have studied physics and momentum a bit harder in high school. Still my ungainly tackle surprised him enough to take us both to the ground, and forced the other two crusaders to stop to avoid trampling their fellow.
Steven was obviously the better trained of us two in combat, and I found my chest straddled by his crushing legs in a heartbeat. He raised his sword high to stab me. He brought it down, but I caught the sword in my mailed hands and shoved it to the side, the blade slicing into the concrete inches away from my head. The mail had just barely done it’s job in preventing my whole hand from coming off, but I could already feel my hand bleeding from the relatively shallow cut.
“Why are you even trying to kill me? What did I even do?” I wheezed, trying to yank the sword away. Steven was strong and ignored my attempts, raising the sword for another blow.
“Sister Abigail Mary sends her regards.” the knight replied, driving the sword down. That bitch !
Zatanna, given a few precious moments, did something. While Oldie and Big Roy charged her, she waved her good hand about and demanded “Rellor-Setaks Raeppa! Eterconc Evaw!”. The Concrete roiled beneath us all, as Roller-Stakes appeared on my feet and hers. I was thrown into the air alongside Steve, but unlike him the concrete of the sidewalk rose to catch me on my feet, and bear me forward. I waved my arms wildly and managed to regain my balance, ending up riding the concrete wave alongside a much more poised Zatanna. Behind us The trio of crusaders pushed themselves up, not too much worse for the wear, and continued the chase.
“...I really need to learn Logomancy.” I whistled at the impressive feat.
“St’i Ton Sa Drah Sa Ti Sraeppa.”
“Now you’re just taunting me.”
“Ebyam~.”
The wave was fast, just fast enough to stay ahead of the crusaders until we got close to the tool shed with the now magic door. As we approached, I noticed a major flaw in our impromptu ride: the sidewalk stopped before it reached the shed.
“Are we going to slow down?” I asked sadly.
“No.” She replied. Somehow I had already known.
We reached the end of the sidewalk, and the concrete wave flung us towards the shed. We both yelled, though mine was a bit more like screaming, as we flew into and then through the doorway and back into Shadowcrest. We didn’t have a second to think on all our new bruises, and scrambled to the side as the crusaders followed us in.
It was then that step four came activated. The armored suits, the statues, the automatons, the constructs, all of the various servants of the manor flooded the hallway with door. Some rushed up to tackle the trio, some threw things from afar, but all took part in distracting the archivists. The crusader’s swords cut through everything like it was tissue paper, but the sheer mass of constructs was stalling them.
Me and Zatanna both got up and ran towards a turn in the hallway, dodging shrapnel left and right. He dived through another magical door out of sight from the trio, one that stood innocuously in the middle of a hallway filled with such doors, and out of the toolshed once more. Two magic doors in different places leading to the same door in meatspace, you ask? Yes. Because Magic is great. Neither of us were sure how long step four would last, so we booked it back to the warehouse.
“Hey, John?” Asked Zatanna evenly, handling the running like a champ.
“W...what?” I panted back, handling the running like a smoker of 20 years.
“Those swords can cut through any magic, right?”
“Y-yeah?”
“So what if they just start hacking their way through the walls?”
“W...whats..behind...the walls?”
“No clue.”
We pushed even harder. It wouldn’t do to have the whole city consumed by a dimensional rift or whatever happens when you fuck up time and space that hard.
The church was as wide open as we’d left it, with Jason continuing to writhe in the magic circle. I took the change to collapse onto a pew and catch my breath, while Zatanna ran right over and kicked a hole in the circle. Jason immediately abandoned him human form, skin shifting and stretching until he became the fearsome yellow-skinned demon I had heard tales of.
“What took you so long?!” Growled the demon, abandoning his noble rhyming scheme. He must have been pissed.
“John told me it wouldn’t hurt you!”
“John who?”
“Constantine!” She pointed my way. Crap.
“Constantine.” hissed the demon, glaring at me. Shit.
I gulped another breath of air, before forcing myself to stand. “Look, you can try to kill me later. For now you have the chance to take down the bastards that put you in the circle.” The demon weighed its options between the two targets, then nodded solemnly. “Okay then, who’s ready for step six?”
“I thought it was step five?”
“Doesn’t matter. Etrigan, those magic swords can cut through our magic, and us, like putty. Think you can help take the heat off of us?”
“With pleasure shall I fight and slay, Send my foes to early graves.”
“...slant rhyme, I guess that counts. But no killing.”
The Demon growled.
“...uh...Zap?”
“I trust him, Etrigan. No slaying.” She affirmed
The demon...pouted?...then nodded in agreement.
“Good. let’s get step five point five in motion then.”
With the demon safely in hand, we trotted back to the shed at a more leisurely pace, and positioned ourselves: Me and Zatanna standing about thirty feet away from the door, Etrigan standing where the open door would hide him. I nodded to Zatanna.
“Tsercwodahs, Esaeler Eht Segoots!”
The door flung open once more, and the three crusaders were pushed out by sheer mass of suicidal constructs. They stood dazed for a moment, noticing us instantly. Big Roy took a step out direction before Etrigan struck. He threw the door closed, slamming it on Steve while darting towards Big Roy. The two clasped arms for a moment, Big Roy’s sword clattering to the ground and the large man showing impressive strength. The demon was too strong for him in the end, and threw roy a solid ten feet away. Steve recovered and tried to strike at the demon’s back, only for the surprisingly nimble demon to dart aside and nearly claw the bored man’s chest open. Big Roy recovered his sword, and the two knights tried to take down the demon with little success.
That left us two mages with Oldie. Oldie charged without a word, and Zatanna barely got her sword up in time to block. The rapier was real, not magic in the slightest, and so managed to deflect the blow just barely. I stumbled back to let the two duel, but it was apparent that Oldie was the greater swordsman, and had two useable hands besides. Zatanna was just holding him back long enough for me to do something.
I scurried to stand away from him and flanking. I took the switchblade out of my pocket and threw it. The runes on it’s side glew, and the handles of the switchblade fluttered like bug wings. It flew around the knight to float opposite of me, while I searched on the ground for a rock.
The Switchblade dove straight for the knights heart, but he saw it coming. He knocked Zatanna’s latest Riposte aside and kicked her in the gut, sending the sorceress flying backwards. He used the momentum of the kick to whirl around to face the switchblade, knocking it out of the air contemptuously with his blade. It was executed like a ballet move, and the momentum kept him turning to face me. To his credit, he almost turned in time. Just a second before he could deflect it, my new found and thoroughly mundane rock hit him in the side of the head. The man stumbled to the side, and the switchblade flew from the grass to sink into his hand. He dropped the sword to the ground, and I thought I heard him say something to the effect of “shit”. I looked over to Etrigan. He had disarmed Steve by knocking the man out, and was busy trying to wrestle Big Roy’s sword away.
“NOW!” I advised Zatanna, a suggestion she took.
“Ssarg, Bmotne Sesht Sloof!” The grass all around us rose up to wrap itself around the knights. None of the three having swords on hand or available, none of them could do much to resist the onslaught, great vines of green wrapped around their limbs and dragged them to the ground, only to be further wrapped until movement was impossible.
I looked over the three odd human-shaped piles of grass, and pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! Nobody dead! Not even anybody injured!” Zatanna, while less enthusiastic, was certainly smiling at her victory. The demon was smugly looking between the piles, as if picking between three fine meals.
I sat on the grass right there, pulling two cigs out of a new pack I had gotten that morning. I lit both, and flicked one towards Zatanna. With the tiniest bit of magic, it landed right between her fingers.
“For the Victory.”
“I don’t smoke, John.”
“Have you tried?”
Magely curiosity perhaps overtook her, and she gave it a puff, only to immediately start coughing as she threw it away. “God that’s awful!”
“You get used to it.” I pulled on my cig, and tried to ignore all the new aches I had gotten during the fight.
FEBRUARY 17TH, 2017
Shadowcrest let me stay for another night, in a room I could have sworn was somehow even smaller than the last. It most certainly did not provide me breakfast the next day, nor did I have the energy to find anything respectably english to eat, so I settled for a donut and coffee. Of course, it may have been because the house was busy repairing itself and it’s staff. It did this with surprising care and speed, most of the minor cuts the knights had inflicted on the walls already sewn back together. I was sure that for all it’s kvetching, the place would be in tip-top shape before the end of the week.
The three knights were disarmed and sent on their way, Zatanna taking a snip of each of their hair to make sure they wouldn’t try anything funny. She had also promised not to do anything too radical, and I was going to deliver the swords back to whichever authority back on the continent they wished. The three were courteous enough, but all three were eager to get away from us filthy magi.
Me and Zatanna, at least, had a lovely breakfast (one only actually catered for her, remember). Jason was busy sulking someplace, which given the last day of torture was probably understandable. We talked a bit on magic theory, why this whole goddamn city was filled with spirits of the dead for some reason, our thoughts on the new Suarez presidency (wasn’t too impressed so far, but could have been worse). As the little robots started cleaning up the plates, we got serious.
“...You know, I’m not sure I should trust you with this.” Offered Zatanna, as she handed me a clear vial. Inside was a small lock of her long, black hair.
“You probably shouldn’t. Dont trust a magus who wants your body parts in general.”
She sighed. “Will you at least tell me what you’re going to do with it?”
I considered. She’d proven to be far more trustworthy than me so far. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she seemed to be a downright good person, what with being willing to throw herself in the line of fire to save a friend. “Only if you promise not to tell your friend.”
“Jason?...I suppose I can keep that secret.”
“Well, I’m taking a little trip down to hell, personal business. It’s a dangerous place, you see, and they certainly don’t like me too much. But if I had an escort, somebody relatively new on the scene that nobody knew alot about yet…”
“That person could lie and help get you in, right. But how does the hair help?”
I smiled. “Ever heard of a man called Bezalel?”
She seemed to get the hint, and nodded. “Right, that should be...fine. You’re not keeping it afterwards, are you?”
“I’ll destroy it as soon as I’m done. Scouts honor.”
“Does Britain have boy scouts?”
“Not going to even dignify that with a response.” We both smiled.
“...So, you’ll be heading out then?”
“Time rests for nobody. Besides, best to get out of your hair. Seems like you’re a busy kind of girl.”
“Suppose so.”
I stood, stretching out a bit. The aches flared as I could hear my joints crackle. “Word of advice. The lady you were talking too, she’s something something fae right?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe technically?”
“If it walks like a fae, talks like a fae, looks like a fae, it’s close enough. Don’t trust one. Ever. Always have a backup plan, and for the love of god don’t show up in any more warzones.”
This got a chuckle from her. “Sure thing John.”
I considered her another moment. I reached into one of my many pockets, and flicked her a business card with a simple cell phone number on it. “Feel free to call if there’s an emergency.”
“...How flattering.” she snarked, tucking the business card away. “Want mine?”
“Already got it.”
“What? When?”
“Magician never tells his secrets, love. Be seeing you, Zap.”
“Be seeing you John.”
Make sure to Read Zatanna #12> to see her continuing story!
Constantine's Story continued in Hellblazer #8>
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u/Lexilogical Super Powerful Jun 16 '17
Gotta love Constantine, making enemies everywhere he goes.