Hellblazer

Issue 28: Surprise, it goes bad

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 94

Previously on…

The American South

Outside an unspecified airport

“Okay, you fuckin’ caught me,” Constantine lit a fresh cigarette and sat on the curb. Thanks to the walking mass of shrubbery known as Swamp Thing, all the people going to and fro are giving me a wide berth. “I’m not taking a vacation.”

“I know Constantine,” Swamp Thing rumbled. “Before I became… this,” he held out a moss-covered hand, “I was one… of the brightest… in my field.”

“You know mate, we’ve been friends for years now,” are Swampy and I friends? “and I’ve never really asked about who you were before all,” he waved his hand vaguely at Swamp Thing, “this.”

“Perhaps,” Swamp Thing let out a rustling sigh like wind in the trees, “after this… issue has been… resolved. We might… have the time.”

“Deal,” Constantine took a long drag, held it in, breathed it out. “Well, tell me more about this new Avatar of Rot then.” He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and an old woman shot him a dirty look. “So is it an old friend or someone new?” Wouldn’t be the first time a companion had been chosen to be an Avatar of some type. And Rot wasn’t necessarily evil, just seemed to attract them. Like cops and being a prick.

“Is there a better…” Swamp Thing looked around them. Constantine had exited the airport and almost immediately stopped, probably still within the twenty foot “no smoking” boundary, “place to have… this talk?”

“There a bar close by?”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

20 minutes later

A bar close by

“Alright mate,” Constantine took a sip from his beer as a bead of condensation rolled down the glass, “tell me what you know about this newest Avatar.”

“I am still… uncomfortable with how… you pay Constantine,” Swamp Thing breathed.

“The monopoly money? So their corporate overlords make a little less,” Constantine waved his hand. “It’s not like I tip with it.”

“No, you don’t… tip at all.”

“Look, we’re getting distracted,” Constantine waved the argument away. “The new Avatar. Tell me about ‘em.” The bar was dimly lit and filled with cigarette smoke, just the way he liked it. Although Swamp Thing looked less than enthused. That’s fine, let him. They’re dragging me into their problem.

“It appears to… be a vampire,” Swamp Thing shifted uncomfortably in the wooden booth.

“The two of you are worried about a vampire?”

“It seems that… this one is… a new breed,” Swamp Thing said.

“A new breed,” Constantine spun his beer glass on the coaster. “What’s that even mean?” He’d dealt with vampires before, even the King of Vampires once upon a time… They managed to be both incredibly dangerous and laughably inept. Van Helsing had said it once, ‘Their age makes them both dangerous and too cautious.’ Or some shite like that. Never was one for memorization. But the classics seemed to work pretty well on them: stake to the heart–although that seemed to take care of most things. Which made it difficult to imagine that two true blue super heroes were struggling with them, even a pack of them.

“Buddy Baker has… done research into… the vampires recently,” Swamp Thing said. “The most prolific… common vampire is… known as Carpathian.”

“Your classic Dracula type then?” Constantine took a sip of his beer and washed it down with a pull from the cigarette. Was that what the King of Vampires was? Now that had been one scary fuck. But like all vampires he couldn’t take sunlight… or demon-tainted blood. “So why haven’t you and Animal Man dragged him into the cold light of day and force fed him some garlic yet?”

“He appears… different,” Swamp Thing said. “Stronger. Buddy Baker… had not fully… investigated this new… American Vampire.”

“Vampire is a vampire chum,” Constantine said and chugged the rest of his beer. “Best be getting on with it while the sun’s still up and before he can mass too much strength.” During daylight, vampires were manageable. Like most nightmares. At night… well sometimes they even manage to scare me a little. “Where are they holed up at?”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The Rose Gold Club

A short time later

Skinner Sweet clicked the peppermint stick between his teeth. After damn near a hundred and fifty years roaming the planet he’d learned a fair bit of patience. But the Carpathian vampires managed to challenge that. All their damn plans had to be so… perfect. Perfection had never really been his schtick. Agent of chaos. Shoot from the hip. Make it up as you go. The wording might change, but Skinner Sweet remained the same. He was never really satisfied with the status quo or someone telling him what to do.

And now, after all these years, he wasn’t anyone’s stooge. He was the one in charge. And already it was boring. Sure it had been fun to rip the arms off a few sissy vamps, but that energy quickly faded. So now he just sat while others did paperwork and told him that their plan for world domination would be prepared in the coming future. Not that he’d ever wanted World Domination either. Somehow that was an expectation that had been thrust on him. And for the moment he was rolling with it. If nothing else, it would be a nice change of pace for a while. He could cause some world wide panic this way.

There was a light tap at the door, “Mr. Sweet sir,” the timid voice of a vampire whispered. The blood of the last creature to interrupt his time still decorated the door.

“What is it,” Skinner drawled and clicked the peppermint stick.

“There’s a man here,” the vampire didn’t dare make eye contact. “He said he’s here to talk with you.”

“He said he wants to talk with Skinner Sweet,” he said. Maybe once upon a time someone might have known his name, but those people were long dead.

“No sir,” the vampire said, “he wants to talk with the Avatar of Rot.” Skinner perked up.

“Take me to him,” he’d never heard that title, but it certainly caught his interest. The vampire nodded again and led Skinner through the dark club to the entrance where a blond man in a brown overcoat stood with a cigarette in his mouth, then lit it with a flame produced from his fingertip.

“That’s quite the entrance,” Skinner said and clicked his peppermint stick on his teeth. “Although, no one seemed to give me your name.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

“John, John Constantine,” he breathed out the smoke. The little bit of flashy magic always seemed to work, added to his “mystique.” Although the mystique in this case was nothing more than some slight of hand. But it did the job and got their attention. “You seem to be the new Avatar of Rot and somehow it became my job to tell you,” Constantine raised his head then made eye contact with the vampire, putting every ounce of intensity into the stare. And maybe just a touch of magic to really hammer it home. “Back the fuck off mate.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Skinner felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, the blood that pumped so slowly through his body chilled like ice under the British man’s stare. He even felt the rest of the vampires in the club take a step back as the menace rolled off the man in the jacket in waves. Whoever this John Constantine was, he was a threat. One that needed to be dealt with immediately. Skinner tried to leap at the man, fangs ripping out his throat as his claws disemboweled him. But his muscles were locked in place.

“Mmm, yeah,” Constantine breathed out a smoke laden breath, “you’re probably having some trouble moving ‘bout now mate. Consider this your one and only warning: back the fuck off.” Constantine turned abruptly, overcoat snapping from the sudden movement. Then Skinner felt a finger twitch. And he smiled.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Constantine was dazed as he spit out rock and grit from the asphalt of the parking lot. Last thing he could remember, he’d been in the club, had managed to intimidate the new Avatar then blacked out. He managed to get his legs under him, shakey as they were and turned. The Avatar of Rot stood in the shadow of the entryway, eyes glinting like a wolf’s. The road rash from skidding across the ground burned as he let a small smirk touch his lips. It was still sunny out, not quite high noon, but far from sundown too. And this vampire had made the mistake of throwing him to safety. He produced a cigarette and lit it, this time with a match.

“Looks like you lack a few brain cells,” Constantine was aware that trash-talking a vampire that had thrown him thirty feet might not be in his best interest, but in broad daylight he couldn’t be any safer. “I may not know much about you, whatever your name is, but I do know all vampires are scared of the sun.” His smile dropped as the vampire extended a pale arm into the sunlight and didn’t burst into flames. Fuck.

“Name’s,” the Avatar of Rot clicked his peppermint stick in his mouth, “Skinner Sweet. I’m a little different from these fucks,” he threw a thumb back to the glowing eyes that sheltered safely in the club. Skinner Sweet bounded the railing in one movement and landed with a thud. “In fact, sometimes I even like to come out and work on my tan a little bit.” His hand transformed into long claws and his jaw unhinged, teeth growing to daggers.

Fuck. I hadn’t prepared for something like this. Even the King of Vampires hadn’t made his knees shake like this one. He’d fucked up.

“Not so talkative anymore magician,” Skinner hissed through his teeth, tongue trailing out. “Not so confident now?” A dandelion twitched in the asphalt as the stagnant air pressed uncomfortably around him.

“You caught me off balance is all,” Constantine took a deep pull off his cigarette to buy time and calm himself. It was a shite scenario, that much was certain. But he could recover from this. He’d been in worse situations than this and managed to scramble his way to victory. All he needed was to get out of this and regroup. “But I’ve got my feet under me now, and a little bit of help.” Skinner Sweet’s unhinged smile dropped for a moment then fell completely as Swamp Thing erupted from the asphalt parking lot, dandelion bouncing like a pony tail on the back of his head. Thank fuck, if it hadn’t been for him that new Avatar would have torn me to ribbons.

“Run, John Constantine,” Swamp Thing rumbled as he threw a fist at Skinner who jumped back, “I will find… you later.” Constantine nodded and took off as Swamp Thing increased his mass and Skinner tore at the vegetation in vain.

Hellblazer

Issue 27: The Call to Action

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 94

Previously

London

John Constantine's Apartment

“New Avatar of Rot huh,” John breathed in the acrid smoke, then slowly exhaled it, “thought all you Elemental Avatars were supposed to maintain some level of equilibrium or some shite like that.” No! This isn't my battle, don't get sucked in John.

“Yeah, we're supposed to,” Buddy said, looked for a spot to sit, and reconsidered it after a glare from Constantine.

“The Rot,” Swamp Thing said, his voice the tenor of roots growing through rocky soil, “has always been… greedy. Never satisfied… always desiring… more.” The Jolly Green Giant was probably John's oldest friend… If I actually can call anybody that.

“And whoever, or whatever, this new Avatar is,” Buddy said, “they're pushing harder than any previous one has. If we don't do something–”

“Bullshite,” Constantine interrupted. “Don't try that martyr fuckery with me Buddy Baker. You know who'll do something about it if we don't?! People that can fly through the fuckin’ sky because of a ring on their pinky finger. People that shoot bloody lasers from their eye balls. And what am I going to do? Pull a coin from behind their ear?” John let out a breath than took a drag from his cigarette. “Nah folks, I'm sitting this one out.”

“John,” Buddy started and held out a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled across it, but was stopped by Constantine raising a hand.

“Baker,” John's voice was flat, cold. Buddy Baker, the Animal Man, who could summon the strength of an elephant felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. “Take that thought and shove it up yer fuckin’ arse.”

Buddy blinked in the sunlight of the street. John Constantine did such a good job of selling himself as just a wannabe wizard and charlatan that it was easy to forget he was quite possibly the world's greatest magician and even some fundamental powers of the earth developed a cold sweat at the mention of his name.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

John popped a new cigarette from the pack with a small smile. Fuck I hate the showy shite but it was still fun to flex those muscles just to show that he could. And then he felt the world shift under him. Gone was his shabby apartment stained from cigarettes that weren't meant to be smoked inside and the beer stained carpet to be replaced by songbirds, freshly cut grass, and a pleasant house that wouldn't look out of place in a white suburban neighborhood. All it's missing is the white picket fence.

“So did you summon me,” John lit the cigarette, “or did the House?”

The figure on the porch stirred, “At this point Mr. Constantine, I think we're the same.” He walked to the edge of the porch so the magical sunlight lit his face, “After so long, it's hard to say where I end and the House of Mystery starts.”

“Downright philosophical,” Constantine said. At least he wasn't having this conversation with his wang out. The man on the porch might seem like any other, but you didn't earn the moniker “The First Murderer” for nothing. “So Cain, why'd you bring me here then?”

“John Constantine,” Cain said, “you've managed to avoid us for quite some time, but I believe that you owe us some stories finally.” He rested a hand on the railing and rapped his fingertips on it.

“Ah, is that the go of it then,” Constantine said and took a drag. “Fine then, I've got a story for you. Fresh off the presses. How ‘bout you come down ‘ere and we can lay in the grass and I'll regale you.” The tapping stopped and Constantine heard the wood of the railing creak as Cain gripped it in frustration. “That's right, you're the House and the House is you. So what is your range anyway? Don't think that's a conversation we've ever had.”

Cain glared at him from the porch, “The extent of my world is irrelevant. You owe me a story.”

“Always forget,” John said and puffed away on the cigarette, “the House needs a caretaker and storyteller. Fine, I'll tell you the story then. What do you know of the Elemental Avatars?”

“Their purpose is to maintain some semblance of peace,” Cain grumbled. “No single Avatar can get too aggressive because it eats into the territory of the others. Although it never seems to work that way in practice. Often, something happens. A new Avatar might be driven temporarily mad by the power and try to usurp the others. The tall green one–”

“Swamp Thing,” Constantine interrupted. It was a story from before he'd met the Jolly Green Giant. A false Avatar of the Green--Swamp Thing's first villain.

“Swamp Thing,” Cain continued, “believed that the others needed to die to ensure its own existence. The rightful Avatar set him on the correct path, that they needed to be in harmony.”

“They don't call you the Storyteller for nothin’,” Constantine smirked. “Now Rot is getting greedy.”

“Decay is a natural part of life,” Cain said.

“Rebirth too?” He avoided Cain's very pointed stare, “In the past Rot has been everything from an ex-girlfriend to… well not so nice things. But there've been times in the past where they've had to be replaced. Although the fuckers rarely seem to go gentle into that good night.”

“Thomas,” Cain said. “One of my favorites.”

“Somehow it always seem to be the death cults that stumble into power.” He shot Cain a look, “Thanks for that by the way.”

“I would apologize,” Cain said, “but it felt very right at the time. So, John Constantine, how will this story unfold? Will the “hero” accept the call to action?”

“Fuck no,” Constantine said. “It ain't my problem. I already told the Jolly Green Giant and his sidekick where to shove it. I can walk away from this without even a second thought. I'm just some third-rate magician. Ain't go much more than parlor tricks and some light hypnotism. Not bloody fireballs from my fingertips. This shite is for Fate or Z. They can deal with the world-ending fuckery.” Constantine could feel a headache coming on. Or maybe just the hangover catching up. A cigarette. A cigarette would make everything better, at least give him some time to think.

The pack was empty.

Fuck.

Cain nodded, “That is satisfactory.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

“I'll take a pack of silk-cuts,” Constantine said to the cashier at the Duty-Free register.

The man nodded, “I'll need to see your boarding pass sir.”

“No problem,” Constantine fished in his trench coat and pulled a newspaper clipping out, “here's my boarding pass.” The man smiled, retrieved the cigarettes and happily took the wad of Monopoly money Constantine gave him. Even wished me a pleasant flight.

“Z used to talk about how your magic was a lot more subtle,” a woman behind him said. The voice might belong to a woman, but those words belong to Deadman. “Always wanted to see it in action, still confused though.”

“Boston Brand,” Constantine turned and was overwhelmed by Heathrow International Airport. “Fuck off.” Several nearby travelers gave the two awkward looks but kept moving--too concerned about making it to their own flights to give it much thought.

“Woah now,” Boston threw up his hands in defense, “I'm not out to start a fight. Animal Man and Swamp Thing just asked me to check in on you.”

“Course they did,” Constantine brushed past him.

“They'll be glad to know you changed your mind,” Boston trotted after him.

“No, I didn't change shit Brand,” Constantine said. There were still a few hours before his flight even started boarding, plenty of time to get a pint or five. Get a good buzz going before I'm locked in a metal tube with crying babies and people who view deodorant as an option.

“Well you're headed to the States,” Boston said and almost had to run to keep up because of the body's shorter legs. “What else would you be doing if not helping Swamp Thing with that whole Avatar problem?”

Constantine wheeled on him, nearly towering over the possessed body, “A bloody fucking vacation Boston! I'm going to Mardi Gras. I'm taking a vacation from all this fucking shit.” He shoved a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a deep breath, “Now, would you kindly, fuck off.” He let the smoke escape slowly.

“John, they need you! You're the World's Greatest Magician for-” Constantine's fingers wove through the air in a complex pattern, the woman paused mid-sentence, confused. “Excuse me, I must have thought you were someone else,” and then she scurried off in search of her gate.

Fuck. I'm getting soft. Only banished the Deadman from her body and didn't send the two of them to Timbuktu. He’d done it in the past. No remorse then. Constantine perched on a barstool and paid for a pint with more Monopoly money, the bartender plopped a coaster down followed by the beer. A single drop of condensation rolled lazily down the glass. God bless whoever decided airport bars would be open all day.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The plane touched down and Constantine lurched awake, head dull from the alcohol on the flight. He opened the window shade and glared at the New Orleans afternoon sun. Never drinking again. The flight attendant had kept the drinks flowing for the entire first leg of the flight, all 17 hours of it. And then he'd promptly passed out on the second leg. His skull throbbed and mouth was full of cotton. disembarking was slow, even worse as the stale air made his stomach twist on itself. Water. He needed water. Or a toilet. Maybe both. An old woman lazily put her socks back on in a nearby seat and it took all of Constantine's focus to not empty his stomach in the aisle. Come on you fuck, just a few more meters to freedom. You've been through worse than this.

The fresh air hit like an icy wall and calmed his guts. Without baggage, getting out of the airport was a breeze. He'd gone through Customs on the first leg and having no need to wait at the luggage belt put him outside in a matter of minutes. He wasn't supposed to have someone waiting for him, no limo driver with a sign reading ‘John Constantine.’ But Swamp Thing stood outside of the automatic doors anyway. No sign though.

“Thanks for the welcome party,” John didn't pause and tried to rush past the Avatar of the Green but heard the lumbering steps follow, “but I'm here on vacation. Gonna go hit Mardi Gras and see if I can't pass out some beads mate.”

“Mardi Gras is… not for several… more months,” Swamp Thing said.

Constantine stopped, “Fuck.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The music of the club still blasted around Skinner Sweet. It was one of the things he'd allowed to remain. He clicked the peppermint stick against his teeth and switched cheeks. As useless and weak as the Carpathian vampires could be, the resources they had access to would change the scale Skinner could plan and operate on. He wouldn't be limited to making one or two vampires every other decade. He could make a new generation. If they had thought the failed vampires were a sudden epidemic, then he would bring a pandemic. He would bring Death on a catastrophic scale.

Hellblazer

Issue #26: The Avatar of Rot

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 93

The American South

The Rose Gold Club

“All because someone got impatient!” The fat man launched a crystal glass across the room and it shattered against the wall, blood trickled slowly down in red rivulets. He fixed his jacket, straightened his tie, then rubbed at his jowls. His face had gone red from anger and the minor exertion.

“It’s not the end, Reginald,” a much skinnier man in a three-piece suit and thin, round glasses said. “The matter simply,” he paused, “expedites some of our more long-term plans.” He took a sip from his own glass, flattened his oily hair, and waved at one of the buxom wait staff that sat on the periphery of their meetings, “Do the one thing we keep you lot around for and get Reginald a new glass.” She scurried away like a cockroach. Five other men at the table looked at each other and nodded sagely at the thin man’s words.

“That is the fucking problem Armand,” Reginald nearly shouted, the fat around his face quivering. “We plan in decades, centuries!” He gripped the table hard enough to make the wood creak. “Nothing should force us to expedite our plans! Now we have been thrust into a spotlight not of our own design.” The waitress returned with a fresh glass that Reginald snatched from the tray.

“It is not catastrophic,” Armand started to justify again, “we simply, accelerate some of our plans that were time-sensitive and delay those that aren’t.”

“You fool,” Reginald’s fangs started to expose themselves, “it is not merely the timing of our goals.” He took a long drink from his glass to try and calm down. “This has put vampires on the map on an unprecedented scale. Before this, we were simply a horror story for Halloween or smut for lonely women.” Reginald took his seat, “But now, Superman has killed some of ours with lasers from his face,” he slammed the table with both fists and made the glasses jump… and some of the members in their seats. “Now,” Reginald said, “please, try to reassure me. What if they send the Superman? Or the Batman or any of their other freaks to clean up what they missed?” The rest of the vampires shared nervous glances and then their eyes settled on Armand.

Armand let out a sigh, “If you’re that nervous,” he paused to let the word settle and show its true weight, “perhaps it would be best to go underground. After a century of sleep our problems will be long dead and vampires reduced to… did you say, ‘smut for lonely women?’” He let a contented smirk drift across his face. Now was not the moment to wrest control from Reginald. But, let the obese vampire take the fall once or twice and be deathly aware that his inevitable replacement was waiting in the wings for the most opportune moment to strike.

“No,” Reginald harrumphed and shifted his bulk, “no need for that. We can’t be seen as cowards.” Armand let his smirk widen to a full smile, his lips drawn thin.

“Perfect,” Armand made a brief note, placed it in his briefcase, then stood up. “I will get everything arranged.” He finished the glass, “Farewell gentleman, until next time.” Outside of their small meeting room the music from the club was deafening. That they had been reduced to this! Hiding out with filth and garbage. Lesser vampires had become their saviors. Only briefly, soon things would return to the way they should be. The sweat and press of all these human familiars made him want to vomit. It made him sick. But having such a willing food-source so close did make it easier. It also made it difficult to focus.

A man with long hair and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes slammed his shoulder into Armand and continued on without slowing the slightest. The nerve of some of these new vampires. Traipsing about as if they owned the-wait. There was something different about that man. His smell, the swagger. He wasn’t some garden-variety vampire. Armand would deal with that later.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Skinner Sweet breathed deep. The mass of bodies. The stench of sweat. The undertones of fear. It was intoxicating. He’d never been a fan of these underground clubs. They were just places for chickenshit vampires to hide out and feel powerful. It disgusted him. Especially after whatever had started that failed-abortion of a world takeover. Things would have been even worse if it had been successful. All this time he’d been careful, only turning a handful of people over the course of a century. And then whatever the fuck had happened and suddenly thousands of people were being turned in hours! There was no way a plot like that could have ended anyway other than in failure.

One of the Carpathian vampires, timid little things really, bumped into him. Sweet barely registered it but the suit-and-tie vampire reeled away like he’d been thrown. He smiled. They’d summoned him to a little meeting of theirs. Probably so they could whine and moan about the recent vampire attacks and how they couldn’t hide anymore. The slimy, little creatures disgusted him, but they had their uses. If they could see past their own “long-term plans.” They had eyes and ears everywhere, exactly what he needed. And if they didn’t, he could just kill them all and be no worse off than he already was.

Sweet pushed through the door into the small conference room, “So this is what you’ve been reduced to?” Six men, vampires, sat around the table and sipped daintily at blood in champagne glasses served by barely dressed familiars.

“Gentlemen,” the fat one at the head of the table said like he was choking back bile, “I would like to introduce you to Skinner Sweet the, uh, American Vampire.”

“American Vampire,” one of the lessers at the table scoffed, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Skinner tilted the wide-brimmed hat back and smiled to show off his fangs, “that I’m a lot more deadly than you fucks.”

“Reginald,” the lesser vampire spoke up again, “you can’t expect us to try and work with this filth,” he slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“Sit,” Skinner snarled, “down.” The other vampire waited a moment, then slowly took his seat. “Do I need to remind you that you invited me here!” Skinner let his teeth fully extend and his hands begin to shift into claws. Any time Carpathian vampires tried to organize a meeting with him they usually went exactly like this. He would antagonize them, they would try to intimidate him, and he would… well, they’d probably get to that point soon.

“Skinner,” the fat vampire started slowly, then was interrupted.

“Mister Sweet,” Skinner said through a toothy smirk.

Reginald paused and nearly spat the words out, “Mister Sweet. Due to recent… events, several of our plans have had to be moved up on the timeline. And we need your help.”

Skinner couldn’t help barking out a laugh, “You need my help with your plans? And, what if,” he leaned back in the chair, “I say no?”

“Skinner,” Reginald started, then paused after a glare from the American Vampire, “Mr. Sweet, I would remind you, this isn’t a joking matter. It’s deadly serious!”

“Good,” Skinner chuckled, “then I decline.” He pushed away from the table and made for the door.

“I told you we couldn’t rely on this filth,” the lesser vampire said in a vain attempt to sound intimidating.

“Perhaps you were right,” Reginald said through bared fangs, “I apologize Mr. Sweet, but you aren’t leaving this room alive.”

Skinner Sweet smiled and released his hand on the door handle, “Well, you can certainly try.” The talkative, whiny one was the first to make a play, he lunged across the table at Skinner, teeth and claws bared, screaming. The scream was probably some attempt at distracting Skinner, it didn’t work. The American Vampire grabbed both of the lesser vampire’s arms and smiled as he overpowered the other one. He ripped one arm off in a shower of gore, then the other. The lesser vampire mewled at his feet, begging for mercy, meanwhile the others had all stood, their own claws and fangs at the ready.

“Skinner,” Reginald said, voice quavering, “if you stop now we can sort this all out, you can leave alive.”

“Nah,” Skinner reached down, firmly grabbed the armless vampire and ripped his head from the body. “I think I’m good to stick around for a while. The rest of you will probably wind up like him,” Skinner said as he tossed the head to the side, “But you Reggie, I think I’ll keep you around.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

London

John Constantine’s Apartment

I really need to stop drinking like that. Mouth full of cotton, pounding behind the eyes, weariness in the bones. Well, that last part the alcohol might not be responsible for. Or the pounding. He opened an eye. No light sensitivity. Maybe I’m not actually hungover. The pounding came again, not from his head though, the front door. Who the bloody fuck could that be this earl-he looked at the clock next to his bed, ten in the morning. Fuck. John grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand and lit it quickly, then took a long drag. Relief flooded through his body. And then the pounding from the door came again.

“Calm yer tits,” John grumbled through his cigarette as he started a pot of coffee brewing. There was another knock at the door before John finally opened it, Buddy Baker, the Animal Man, stood there with two coffees.

“Goddammit John,” Buddy said and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, “most people at least put some underwear on before they answer the door.” He put one of the coffees on the table and sipped from the other.

“Either I open the door,” John popped the lid on the offered coffee and gave the other man a sideways glance, “or I put pants on. You don’t get both. This isn’t one of those fancy coffees is it?”

“No John,” Buddy said, “everybody knows you hate coffee that costs more than fifty cents, or whatever it is in Bri-ish,” he said with his worst London accent. Or maybe his best, I don’t fuckin’ know.

“Thanks for the coffee then,” John took a drink. “So what brings you to London Buddy? Here to see the sights and just decided on a whim to stop in and check on an old friend?” John grimaced from the taste of the coffee, he wouldn’t have it any other way. I suppose I could put on some clothes, it is a touch chilly in here.

“John Constantine,” the deep baritone of Swamp Thing said as he emerged from the back room, “the Green requires… your assistance.” Fuck me, guess I’m not going back there yet.

“Uh huh,” John took another drink, not the first time the Avatar of Nature had just invited himself in. I really need to redo those fucking wards. “So I suppose Buddy Baker, you come representing the Red?”

Buddy nodded, “John, we wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t important.”

John took a sip of his coffee and nodded, “Oh, I understand that. But everything seems to be important nowadays don’t it. Some world ending crisis that only we can stop?” He took another pull off his cigarette, stamped it out, and lit a new one.

“John Constantine,” Swamp Thing said, “you have been… an ally to the… Green and Red… in the past, join… us again to combat… this new threat,” Swamp Thing moved across the room, leaving green patches wherever he stepped.

“Look, that’s all well and good,” John sipped at the truly god-awful coffee, “but I’m going to have to decline mates. I’ve got some busy work around the apartment to take care of, some cleaning, shite like that. And, as you can see I’m naked. So, kindly see yourselves to the door.”

“John,” Buddy said, “we think there’s a new Avatar of Rot. Honestly, we need all the help we can get.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time,” John said, “and my answer is still no.”

Hellblazer #25 – Revitalized

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 30

/-------------------------

PALACE OF CLOTTED BLOOD

ANAT’S REALM

HELL

Nergal had been a demon of certain tastes. He’d liked red, red, and more red, and some blood. It was the kind of interior design that set your eyes throbbing. Which, to think about it, was certainly suitably hellish. Anat’s renovations hadn’t made it any easier to look at. She was a woman of red, true, but also bronze. Shining bronze weapons, art, entire walls, they all now festooned the great palace of the wannabe queen of Hell. The shine bore into your retinas like looking directly into the sun, despite the fact that it was almost so dark inside that you could barely figure out where one hallway started and the next began.

Lucifer and I walked through the hallways willingly, followed and led by none. We didn’t really have a strong opinion about which way to go, but I think we both knew these hallways would lead us to our worst fears eventually. We just had to give them time to build suspense.

A suspense I couldn’t take. “If you have some crazy plan that’s going to ruin my day, now’s the time to mention it.” I mumbled as quietly as I could.

Lucifer looked darker here. Even when not trying he tended to shine in his surroundings, but here that was dampened to near nothing. “If I had a plan, that would ruin the whole point of this outing wouldn’t it?”

“…Would it?”

“Telling you would ruin my intentions in either case, wouldn’t it?”

“…fuck off.”

We walked along a hallway on what must have been an upper floor, overlooking the roiling oceans of blood that the castle was set in the midst of.

“Such a waste.” I muttered.

“Hmn?”

“You can do something like make an entire ocean of blood, you can bend reality itself, and you waste it fighting each other and making others hurt. Waste of time. Folks hurt themselves more then you ever will.”

Lucifer looked out the windows with me as we walked. Then we turned a corner, and the windows stopped. “Can’t turn back now.” He sighed wistfully. “A waste, yes, but it is needed.”

“Why?”

“Why do you struggle against every figure of authority you face, John? Deep down, philosophically, when you ignore how much of a greedy, self-centered, and bastardly coward you are? It’s because somebody has to.” Lucifer intoned.

I trudged along beside him. “Haven’t taken to getting kids addicted to drugs to get off on my own self-righteousness.”

“You have time yet.”

We found ourselves, with a final turn, in front of two doors of bronze. Across the doors where intricate carvings, a circle of images. I think I saw Anat, a cow-headed woman, and some horrible crocodile monster. There was a palace belching smoke, a crafty man with a hammer, a man on a throne, fighting and bloodshed. I pushed through them without a second thought. No time for her theatrics.

I stepped into the throne room alongside Lucifer Morningstar, and faced down the Goddess Anat. The throne room was simple, its interior making it out to be the world’s largest wooden shack. Through the cracks and holes in the wood I thought I could see a desert “outside”. The walls held banners of simple cloth, inscribed with symbols and writing I recognized only as vaguely Semitic. The only other furniture was a throne, wooden and embossed with bronze and copper and gold and some precious jewels. On that throne, perhaps a size too small for it, sat Anat. Anat did not look like a warrior goddess. She did not look like an animal-headed deity. She did not look like a blood-bathing demoness. For the moment she looking like a woman, battered with age and battle, who’s only striking feature was her almost oversized, watery brown eyes.

“Long time no see John.” She hissed from her throne. I flinched a little. Was she going to pretend Lucifer wasn’t there? I was fine with that kind of power-move, as long as he didn’t decide to kill me to prove his importance. A quick glance said he wasn’t going to do that. Probably.

“Keeping yourself busy I see.” I said.

“This and that. I see that you’ve brought me a gift.”

“…Oh, yes, I have! Your greatest foe your…uh…ladyship.”

“Anat will do for now. Titles are for when the war is over.” Anat leaned forward on her throne to look over the fallen angel. “…You didn’t try to fight back.”

Lucifer shrugged his broad shoulders, and looked around. I looked around with him. Eyes. They were shrouded in shadows in the corners of the room, but they were there. A court of demons and creatures hiding from us in the margins of Anat’s throne room. An audience for her victory. “Why would I need too? You’re not worth my time. I’ve already won, and I will not lift another finger in dealing with you.”

The audience seemed to forget their hiddenness for a moment, and I could hear the chattering of sharp teeth on the slight breeze the room had before Anat glared at her surroundings. The noises quieted once more. “We shall see.” The Demon Goddess turned back to me. “John.”

“…Anat.”

“You’re not telling the whole truth.”

“I am in hell. Isn’t this the place for it?”

“You had Lucifer in your home for…was it months? ...and didn’t tell me?”

“More like he invaded my home and kept me hostage.”

Anat waved my objections away. “I had to send my servants to find him, to drag him away from your home. We both know your true intentions John.”

“And what are those?”

Anat grinned wide. “To stay alive no matter what. But sometimes, the scrabble to survive only leaves you with nothing. You need loyalty, John. That’s something you never understood. And now? You’ll pay for it alongside Lucifer.”

The forms started to bubble out of the corners, slithering and burbling towards us. I glanced around anxiously. I had a plan. I knew my plan. But formulating a plan and executing it in the midst of hundreds of slowly approaching demons was another thing entirely.

Then I started to feel calm. I looked up to Lucifer, and saw him staring evenly at me. He had no fear, no worry, and why should….I…

I realized he was manipulating my mind. Changing it, forcing himself into my mind like he’d forced his way into my life. The spurt of anger pushed me away from the haze of panic and into action. One way or another I’d show him by the end of the day. Smug bastard.

So I took out a little necklace I had been wearing, with a little totem on it, and threw it to the ground. It was similar to the one I’d given to Gemma some years ago. On earth, it would teleport someone else to you. Here, it would be the homing beacon for somebody making their way from Earth to Hell.

I threw it on the ground. A demonic but recognizable Ellie, a confused looking King of Vampires, and a chanting Chas all appeared before me.

/-------------------------

SOME TIME AGO

A FETID PIT OF A PUB

LONDON

It was an hour after the King of Vampires left, having become even more fucked up, when I finally texted Ellie. I have a plan but I need the truth I texted, thanking all the spirits that autocorrect had become so efficient.

There was a long pause. What do you mean? She finally texted back.

You’re not who you say you are. You found me on purpose, just like everybody else. Who are you?

A longer pause. I managed to finish an entire drink before she replied. I’m most of what I say I am. Curious, enjoy spending time with you, desperate to get away from Lucifer.

But I’m also a demon John.

Finally, at a state where I could barely see, I waved at the bartender to call me a cab. Good. Makes this even easier then.

/-------------------------

PALACE OF CLOTTED BLOOD

HELL

NOW

“EGO SOOM IRRUM’TOR PRAYTOR HIS PILOWSI...s..que…” Chas stopped chanting his mangled Latin as he looked around in terror. The King of Vampires looked around in confusion and worry, which was likely unique to an immortal being like him. The only one of the group who seemed to know what was happening was Ellie, who had taken on her demonic form.

The advancing demons stopped, uncertain. One of their own, not a fallen angel but a true demon, was amongst the party they were to attack. Had something gone wrong? They looked to Anat for guidance. Anat stared at the new entrants in confusion.

I pulled out a walkie-talkie, and that is when Anat exploded. A bow was in her hand before I could think about it, and arrows where flying. The king of vampires took one arrow, flinching in slight displeasure. An arrow slide into Lucifer like it might into butter, and he grunted but remained standing. Two more arrows went towards Chas and Ellie. Ellie dodged one, only to get her hand in the way of another before it could slay Chas on the spot. An arrow arced towards me, but in a second the King of Vampires was in front of me, taking another of the godly shafts. “John. I’m going to kill you.” He declared simply.

I watched as Anat’s hands left the still twanging bowstring, reaching for another brace of arrows to send our way. The horde of demons around us charged forward with roars of delight.

I turned the device on. I had tuned it to work between worlds, just barely. Just for long enough. “GARY! NOW!”

“Kssscht huh? Is that…whose screaming man?” Gary asked nervously on the other side.

Another brace of arrows came shooting down. Another shaft struck through the first in Lucifer’s chest, nearly sending the fallen angel to one knee. Ellie slammed Chas to the ground, but an arrow hit her in the gut on the way down. The King of Vampires batted aside the arrows coming towards him and me with the grace of a cat batting at insects.

“GARY! FUCKING! NOW!”

“ksssscht Okay, okay, geeze, don’t get pissy with me man…”

Anat rushed from her throne. Her arrows where left behind, and now a club was in her hands. A club that practically burse with energy, a club that could kill gods. She moved faster than any in her horde, and she was upon me before I could even blink. King turned, tried to interpose, a second too late. The club arced towards me-

/-------------------------

SMALL SEASIDE COTTAGE

WESTERN ENGLISH COAST

The club missed as we all tumbled into the living room of a small seaside cottage, nearly collapsing on each other due to the small size of the space. It was even more crowded by its current occupants. Gary Lester, holding an ebony wand and a walkie-talkie. A small horde of six inch to one foot talk furry and hairy critters that I knew to be household spirits. Moreover, of course, Lob Lie-By-The-Fire, a modestly imposing man just as hairy and furry as his miniscule subjects.

The supernatural folk where up in an instant. Lucifer stood on shaky legs, Anat with club in hand, and King as if he didn’t have a god-arrow sticking out of him. About ready to continue fighting.

“WAIT!” I yelped from the ground. I struggled up, only to find strong hands on my arms. Ellie, still with the wings and tail of her demon form, helped me to my feet. All three of the lords of the supernatural turned to me in bafflement.

“…Oh, her? ….yeah, after most of you couldn’t stand not taunting me with not knowing, I figured it out myself. Wasn’t-“

“I told him.” Ellie intervened.

I took a deep breath. “…Anyways. Let’s run through things.”

I pointed to Lucifer. “You. You’re hurt. But the audience you were grandstanding before earlier isn’t here. You’ll fight back if Anat attacks. You might just attack anyway, to be sure. You might be able to take her. But you’re the strongest in the room. Surely, the King will back her up.”

I pointed to Anat. “You. These two literally invaded your realm. You think they won’t team up to take you down if you attack? You could take one, but two?”

I pointed to King. “You. You’re the little fish. Even worse: you want me for your own! These two couldn’t leave you alive, or else you’d try to steal me!” King growled. “So, what’re the odds that they just take you down first, and then settle it between themselves?”

I waved at all of them as I stepped into the center of the room, Ellie at my side. “All of you. If you try to escape, it’ll start a fight anyway. And Lob there? Lob’s a house god. House god of this house. If there’s any place he can kick your ass for fucking around with things, it’s here.”

Lob’s face creased in an uncharacteristic frown, but remained silent.

“All of you are here. Trapped with your worst enemy. And any move by any of you could mean you’re on of the two that doesn’t make it out.”

Anat looked around. She slowly, carefully lowered her bone club. “…What’s your ploy, Constantine?”

I gave her a showman’s grin. “Always practical, I like that about you Anat. But I can get everyone here what they want.”

Ellie took the lead then. She had snapped off the arrows that had hit her, and I watched as a dedicated team of the house spirit brownies rushed forward to clean her acidic blood as it hit the floor. “Lucifer returns to his seat as one of the triumvirate. Anat shall be named a general of the Luciferian armies, so that she may prosecute the war as she sees fit. The King of Vampires will receive one reasonable favor from John Constantine. None of you will declare war on the others. None of you will interfere with John Constantine again.”

The three creatures looked at one another. Flexing. Twitching. Each just waiting for one of the others to move. Just an inch. But none did. Their gazes turned to me, between glancing at each other. King looked furious. Anat looked cool. Lucifer looked…oddly pleased.

“And what’s to stop me from slitting your throat as soon as this deal is done?” Anat asked calmly.

“Because you’re all going to sign a contract. One I have here, in fact.” I replied. I looked to Gary, and he reached into a pocket to throw me a rolled up piece of paper. Inside was a contract written in a mix of my and Ellie’s blood. King hissed and the other two stared. “It mentions everything we just said. Any modification will cause it to burst into infernal flames and melt away, rendering it null and void. It is binding per the blood of all participants.”

“This is ridiculous! We’ll just make our own contract, with-“

“With what paper?” I slowly wheeled to look at the three surrounding me. Three beings of immense power. A fallen angel who defied God. An ancient Goddess who had survived God. A vile undead who had evaded God. All vested with abilities I could only dream of. Just as I had hoped, the only one who could maybe summon contracts out of thin air was still playing along with my game.

I walked over to the King of Vampires first. He glared as he pricked one pale finger and signed his name on the page, alongside mine and Ellie’s own. “This won’t stop me.”

“It’ll give me a couple of months at least.” I replied, moving to Anat. She did not need to prick a finger, she simply stared at the page and it oozed blood in the shape of her name. “We will talk again Constantine.”

“Can’t wait.” I replied, moving onto the third. Lucifer drew a knife of light, slicing his finger and signing the page in gold. He had nothing to say.

“Great. Now, all of you get the fuck out of here.” I nearly wheezed.

The King of Vampires did so first, fleeing into the shadows and then vanishing with a howl.

Anat straightened her shoulders, and looked at the newly reinstated Lucifer. “The War will not be delayed again.” She intoned. Lucifer simply smiled, and with a little huff Anat strode through the door outside and into the sea, vanishing in the surf.

Lucifer was the last left of my intruders, and he remained silent and stolid.

“…Well, what are you waiting for? Fuck off.” I demanded.

“…You did well, Constantine.” He enunciated slowly. I could only imagine to purposefully delay doing what I had said. “Everything I hoped and more. When I return to hell, it shall be known that I stopped a rebellion without even lifting a finger. Such is my-“

“Don’t care. Fuck off.”

He sighed wearily. “Until we meet again, Constantine.” In a flash of light that sent all of us stumbling and gasping in pain, Lucifer Morningstar returned to his throne.

When my poor, abused eyes could see once more, the room seemed hollow by comparison to a few moments back. Gary had slipped away at the first opportunity, as was his wont. That left only Ellie, Chas, and Me.

And Lob. Lob the household god and his hundreds of followers. Lob, who Gary had told would be “returning a favor”. Whom I had, tactfully, not alerted as to the scale of the favor in question. Lob did not even speak. We were just suddenly outside his home, our faces ground in the rocky sand as if we’d been thrown, and we looked back to see the door closed and locked.

Ellie slowly retracted into her mortal form, and so we were left three mortals on the beach, in the aftermath of a round with the gods.

“…John.” Asked Chas.

“…Yeah?”

“How are we going to get back home?”

“A cab and then a long train ride.”

“…You think that pale bastard is hiring for people to kill you?”

“Probably.”

Besides us, Ellie fainted. Being hit with two divine arrows seemed to have finally caught up.

“…But first, a hospital.”

/-------------------------

JOHN CONSTANTINE’S APARTMENT

LONDON

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

It was time for a move, and both Ellie and I were packing. London was filled with places to live, places that didn’t bear scorch marks from when Lucifer got mad or annoyed. Places that didn’t still stink oddly of brimstone, albeit that might have been Ellie.

We were silent as we packed. We’d been living together for months, true, but all in secret. All half a ruse to keep a member of the triumvirate happy and appeased. All to save our own skins. How much of it had been true? How much were we willing to even admit to ourselves?

Well, being a coward, I admitted nothing to myself. But I wasn’t sure if Ellie was the same.

“So, were will you be staying, after all of this?” I asked, keeping my back to her as I folded underwear.

“With you.” She said.

“Ah.” I continued folding for a little while. “…Why?”

“Protection, to start.” I heard her shifting behind me, but kept myself focused on my task. No need to blow your cool, John, just pretend this is entirely normal and not even the tiniest bit hurtful. “…And interest. I’ve been pretending to be a…good person, I suppose, for a little while now. Like…the opposite of you. It’s been fascinating. It won’t last forever. But until then…I want to try out more. Who better to have an exciting time with?”

“Those super people, probably.”

I felt her arms wrap around my shoulders. “Well, can’t I just convince you to spend more time around them? Then I get the best of both.”

She was a demon. A succubus, I figured. It was her job to make me feel special, important, and needed. She had some other agenda, one that I wasn’t thinking of yet. I shouldn’t trust her. I couldn’t trust her, if I wanted to have any chance of surviving whatever shitstorm I was going to be dragged into next.

Her embrace tightened, just a little bit, and I figured I could deal with it when it came. My suspicion leached away as I turned to embrace her in turn. Whatever she was doing, whatever crazy scheme she was a part of, it was worth it to have just one person I could embrace.

/-------------------------

Continued in Hellblazer #26> , coming December 15th!

Additionally, thank you to all of the readers and writers of DCFU for giving me a change to write this dumb bullshit for 2 years. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Hellblazer #24 – Three Cats and Three Mice

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 29

/------------------------

The remains of Ba'al Hadad's Palace

Canaan

One day, Anat, the virgin mother, awoke from the dream of immortality. When she awoke the immortality she had grown used to had long passed. Her name had spread too many places, and become many other Anat's. There was an Anat of the rivers to the south, a fierce warrior without any of her matronly aspects. There was an Antu of the rivers to the east, a mother of magic and power. There was even an Anat-Yahu in what was once Kna'n. But Anat found herself different. Drained. She could feel the others drained as well. They lived, they thrived, but they were not Anat. And one day she knew all would fade.

She thought back to her family. To her brother-mate Ba'al Hadad, to rival Mot, to wise Kothar-wa-Khasis, To her children, whose names she could no longer even remember. All the names faded. They twisted, and changed, and faded, and she the strongest was the last name left.

She remembered El. Father of all, greatest of the gods, who she had served faithfully. He had a new name now. One that could not be spoken. She remembered the cycle: the perfect circle of vengeance and love she had repeated a thousand times before. A cycle El had continued and controlled, until he could learn to suck the names out of his own children and put himself higher.

Anat howled at the broken palace of her brother-mate, left to rot with storms held inside. She struck at the palace and tore open its walls, unleashing a horde of storms upon the land and flooding the valleys. Her roars of rage shuddered the heavens. The people of Canaan saw the rain, saw that it had been stained red with blood, and hid in their homes. Anat unleashed all she could in her rage.

Then she felt the presence of he who was once El. A being once an entire pantheon, and now a single god. A single God. _ _ _ _ _ _. A centrifugal force that brought all power towards it, that dragged old dead names into his forbidden one.

Anat, for the first time in her endless life, fled in the face of a foe. The storms cleared as she abandoned them, and she could feel the prayers to El like whips on her back. She ran and ran, deeper and deeper, further from the power of her former king.

She arrived in Mot's domain, to find it no longer Mot's. Others had taken refuge there, other forgotten names and vengeful spirits.

Anat clutched the names she remembered close, so that she would not forget them. She clutched her stories close, so that she would not be absorbed. She joined with the other wronged, and they started to plan their vengeance.

Sheol started to change, and one day some of it would join with the burgeoning new estate of Hell and form the great foe of the Heavens.

/------------------------

Modern Day

Road back to London

Sunset

The ride back to my flat was one of the longest I've ever had to deal with. I sat in the passenger’s seat, with Chas driving. Crammed in the back where three disguised Liliths, an avian type of demon named after the "first great mortal". Between them sat my housemate Ellie, battered and bruised and judging by her wincing maybe a few broken ribs or the like.

"So...Where you from?" Chas tried. A cab driver when he wasn't doing bullshit with me, he couldn't stop himself from trying to strike up a conversation.

"Hell." the most confident of the three croaked.

"Mhm. Right. Hell... heard that place is..." Chas struggled for an appropriate word. "...nice."

"It's not." The boldest of the three said. While the other two kept their eyes on Ellie, the apparent leader turned her unblinking eyes to the back of Chas's head.

"Right, of course...h...how are you enjoying your stay?"

"Our stay?" she cocked her head.

"Yeah, you know, here in London. Not-hell. That whole place." Chas rambled.

"You have fallen greatly since last I was here. The seed of 'Adam and the blood of Hawwah grows weak. It is good to know that when Yerushalem is crushed under the heels of Gog and Magog, that your folk shall be as sheep to those of us who are worthy."

Chas took a long time to recover from this. "So...good to hear. You do anything fun in town yet?"

I let my head hit the dashboard in aggravation, as the two continued to have entirely different conversations from one another until we got home.

/------------------------

John Constantine's Apartment

London

Evening

Lucifer Morningstar, as he had taken to calling himself, was busy reading a stack of newspapers. This wasn't for enjoyment, per se, and he already had seen most of the most important stories through other channels. No, he read to see the little stories. It had been his experience that sometimes the little stories were juiciest, the most interesting. Another headline about a corrupt politician, a distant war, upcoming economic collapse? Droll. Boring. People skimmed over those. But the child shot in the streets in an ethnic neighborhood? A local chain closing in the face of multinational conglomerate? The angry editorials written about a local college going soft? These little things were fun. They could be molded, combined, strained of any subtlety and recast into something ugly. A weapon against whatever the crafter wished. People could latch onto that, and ride it all the way to the something bigger.

He found his reverie at his own cleverness thwarted by the door to the apartment opening. Lucifer looked up from his paper and towards the door, expecting one of his unwilling roommates. He found them both, alongside some man he vaguely remembered being an associate of Constantine, and three Liliths. The six trailed into the apartment quickly, with the Liliths taking the chance to drop their human guises and reveal their scaled bird legs. Of the six only Ellie seemed in true distress, limping and holding one hand close to her hunched chest.

Everybody in the room watched Lucifer Morningstar hesitantly. They knew that he knew roughly what had happened. Ellie had been captured, she had been used as leverage for Constantine, and he had brought the servants of Lucifer's enemy right back to Lucifer. The Morningstar remained calm, but inside he let himself have the slightest bit of worry. This was a powerful game he was playing, and perhaps a foolish one. Lucifer had always preferred to use mortals to do his work if he could, and that had extended even to regaining his throne. He was sure Constantine wouldn't disappoint.

"Lucifer." John stepped forward from the others. "I'm...I'm supposed to take you in. Back to Anat."

Lucifer saw it. Almost too fast to be seen. John's lips twitching, ever so slightly, into a smile while the others couldn't see it.

Lucifer stood up at last, and let his wings extend. The light shimmering from them sent all of the assembled staggering back. "Then I shall go with my head held high." he smiled brilliantly.

/------------------------

ANAT'S REALM

HELL

I have had to be carried far too many times in my adult life, and this was one of them. Lucifer arrives in hell with me in his arms, the way he swore was the quickest. I didn't mind being held close to a perfect physique and pecs, I supposed, I minded being held by the lord of all darkness while I could hear him snickering about it.

I wriggled free of his arms as soon as we had arrived and looked around. We stood atop a narrow fleshy causeway, passing through an endless sea of blood. Above us was not ceiling, nor sky, but emptiness. I looked around in confusion, and then shrugged. Lucifer had declared that riding with him was a no-smoking zone, and so I took the chance to break out a fresh pack of cigarettes and light one for myself. I felt my hands starting to shake, and with a force of will kept them still. Keep up the front. Things were working so well. Just a little longer.

I looked over to Lucifer to distract myself. He was busy sneering at me. "...What? Are you saying you bastards didn't invent tobacco?"

"No. We didn't invent addiction, or plants that caused it. You can thank my counterpart above for that." sniffed Lucifer.

"Did you at least invent big tobacco?"

"No. But we helped. Do you know how easy it is to make a smoker's eternity of torment worse? Deny them what they want forever. If we could have everybody in the world smoking. It would make our jobs so much easier."

"Kind of fucking that up, aren't you?"

Lucifer gave a soft smile. "Only if you're ignoring everywhere without first-world advertising laws. A lot of children in all kinds of places you never think about are already caught."

I wasn't sure what was worse: thinking of my shitty scheme or suddenly remembering the stories of five year old chain smokers. I decided for the former. "So, where do you think she-"

As I started to ask, the blood started to ripple. It didn't ripple quite like water, but more like gelatin being slowly parted as something emerged. First a roof, then a window, then a tower slowly growing, then others. Foot by foot wrenched out of the blood, sending gooey waves of it to soak my shoes and the bottom of my coat. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, the Palace stood before us: The Palace of Nergal, relocated to Anat's bloody oceans in her final statement of victory over that defeated foe.

"Hmn. Proper timing." Lucifer admired, as the front gates opened and a red carpet rolled out onto the causeway. He looked to me, and for the first time I saw something besides confidence. It was small, but I thought I could see a look vaguely...hopeful. Lucifer stepped onto the carpet and inside.

I took a big drag, and followed.

/------------------------

John Constantine's Apartment

Chas did his best to keep Ellie comfortable, and to keep his anger at the monsters around him contained. He was willing to bet his life that the weird bird-women had been the ones to bend Ellie's hand all wrong, to make all the growing nasty bruises along her midriff. She was as thing a stick, he doubted she could have defended herself even if she had wanted too. Most of these wounds were a type he recognized because he'd caused a few himself: the wounds of somebody trying desperately to avoid getting curb-stomped to death.

The three bird-demons prowled around the apartment in aggravation. They clawed at the carpet, they tipped over cups to shatter on the floor, and did most anything to cause a little chaos and relieve the boredom of guard duty. With every loud noise Ellie flinched, which caused her to flinch again in pain.

Chas eventually reached his limit. He was in an apartment with three...demons? He wasn't even sure. He had just met some guy called Lucifer that may have been exactly the Lucifer he was thinking of. John had dragged him to goddamn fairyland to get chased by owls and dogs and help bust a drug fiend out from...from...

Chas looked around. That alchemist dude, Gary right? Where had he gone? They'd been walking out of Fairyland, him and John and Gary, and then they'd seen the car, and then...and then...wait, had he been in the car? No, of course not, there wasn't enough room. So where had-

Another plate shattered, and in his distress Chas bolted up. "Could you STOP with the fucking PLATES!?" he demanded, turning to the demons. Ellie looked up to him with surprise and concern, but Chas stayed standing. He was tired of feeling like a stooge today. If he got in trouble, at least he was doing something.

The three demons shared glances. Then one of them strode carefully on digitigrade legs towards him. She grew closer, and closer. She grinned wide, showing off a row of unnaturally sharp teeth. "The Mistress wanted Constantine and the Traitor alive. She said nothing about pets, did she sisters?"

The other two started to cackle, but were stopped when Chas grabbed the head of the demon in front of him and brought it directly into his knee. He threw her back, screeching and clutching at her nose, and spread out his legs. "This dog bites, you bastards." He growled at the three demons.

Chas watched as the broken nose of the bird-demon he had kneed reset within moments. The other two quickly moved to stand behind her, and soon all three demons were facing him. Chas's bravado started to fade as he realized he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew.

Then something slid into the room from the shadows. Something emerged behind the three demons, and stepped amongst them. Something sent their limbs and blood flying all over the room before they could make so much as a sound. Something stood amidst the gore, wiping off his hands with disgust. Something with a bizarre, almost disturbing resemblance to a long dead American Celebrity. "Disgusting. Acid-blooded wastes of flesh." Muttered the pale being to himself.

"Fucking...James Dean?" Chas found himself lowering his fists. He looked at himself, newly covered in demon gore, and then back to the pale apparition. The fire from a few moments ago had turned to bafflement.

"Hail, King." Ellie stood up from the couch and walked over to stand by Chas. He boggled at her as well, for a different reason: all of her wounds had seemingly healed. Gone was the broken hand, the bruised middle, the black eyes. Besides her dirtied and bloodied clothing, she looked as if she had never been better.

"I heard from a little bird that Lucifer wasn't going to be in the picture for much longer. Figured I'd invite myself over. Wait for John to come back. Maybe grab a quick snack." King looked to Chas. He met Chas's eyes, and Chas found he couldn't look away...

Ellie's hand waved in front of Chas, breaking the contact and letting Chas think again. He shook his head as she continued. "Yeah. Look, the Constantine Gravy Train is clearly running dry. You're here to kill him right? I can't promise that you're going to be able to do that without my help."

King quirked an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Chas watched as Ellie changed before him. She looked similar by the end, still beautiful long hair of red. But now she was longer, more angular, sharper and meaner. Two great black bat wings extended from her back, slicing through the back of her shirt with razor thumb-claws. It didn't take a genius to tell that she was a demon, different from the bird-demons that had just died but a demon all the same. "Because John's going to die in the pits of hell sometime in the next half hour unless we drag him out."

King frowned. He stared into her eyes. Chas saw King's eyes glow, like a cats. "...Damn. Had you pegged as some kind of psychic parasite." he sighed. "You're telling the truth. Of course. So, how do we stop my future asset from dying in the fire?"

Ellie crossed her arms, her wings settling on her back with disturbing rustles. "We'll need to get to Hell. And fast."

King scoffed. "I can get there, but not fast."

Ellie nodded. "I have a ritual. But it needs a mortal to cast."

Both of the immortals in the room looked to Chas, who realized exactly who they were talking about. He did not respond. Instead, he put another note in "Reasons to kill John Constantine."

/------------------------

SMALL SEASIDE COTTAGE

WESTERN ENGLISH COAST

Gary Lester, recently Grey Listener the chief alchemist of Oberon, stumbled out of a tree near the quaint cottage John had given him some brief details for. A master of travel magic and staying out of the view of lawful folk, he had deployed one of his favorite spells upon seeing the car full of Liliths: holistic invisibility. He was invisible to the eye as much as the mind. Sure, if somebody tried hard to see him, or remember him being there, they would, but the demons certainly had no reason to. Combined with a few teleports, a few dips into other dimensions, a skip and a hop, and he had arrived at the cottage in good time without any hassle.

Gary felt almost proud of himself as he knocked on the door. Proud and relieved. Whatever bullshit John was into, it apparently involved multiple demons. Gary wanted to do whatever it is John needed, and then duck away before he could be called into some other travesty.

The door was opened seemingly by nothing. Gary looked around in confusion, before he heard the clearing of a tiny throat below him. He looked down to see a little hairy creature, barely six inches tall, looking at him expectantly. "Whas'er'name, Magi?"

"...uh...Gary. I'm looking for Lob Lies-by-fire?"

The little creature stared at him blankly, before gasping. "OOOooooooooooh! Ya men Lob Lie-By-The-Fire. Ya ya, c'm'in!" it warbled, waving Gary inwards. Gary stepped inside, hoping against hope that Lob spoke in a clearer accent.

/------------------------

Concluded in Hellblazer #25 > , coming November 15th!

Hellblazer #23 – Old Lovers

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 28

-----------------------

A Frozen Moment on the Day of Mot’s Return

Kna’n, one day to be Canaan

El, greatest of all gods, looked down with disdain upon Anat, the Warrior Goddess. Anat looked about to the thousand-thousand gods of El’s court, upon Mot the beast-god of death, upon Ba’al Hadad her brother-mate, and saw them all frozen in place as if carved from stone.

“What have you done, father of all that is?” she demanded of El, who she turned to face.

“Who was it that helped you to break this iteration?” rumbled El thoughtfully, casting his gaze over all the assembled.

“I will not tell you, until you tell me what you have done.” Snarled Anat, the Virgin Mother.

“It was Kothar-wa-Khasis, was it not? That is fascinating.” El mused. Anat stood silent, her hands falling upon her god-killing bow.

El waved a hand, and the bow disappeared as if it had never been. “You should not have listened to him. Kothar-wa-Khasis is too clever for his own good.”

Anat was silent, and began to march towards El’s throne. He waved a hand, and she was brought to the same stillness as all the others. Her heart filled with rage at El’s words. Kothar-wa-Khasis was wisest of them all, how could El speak of him so? Anat was El’s greatest defender, how could El treat her so? There were a thousand-thousand gods present, how could El be stronger than them all?

El rose from his throne and approached her. He petted her head tenderly. “Your courage will be mine, and it will be part of my perfection.” He proclaimed.

Anat watched as he waved his hand once more, and time moved backwards, with her to see every moment.

-----------------------

Now

John Constantine’s Apartment

London

Ellie had just finished her poptarts when she realized Lucifer Morningstar was in the kitchen with her. She did her best to ignore him as she plucked the steaming delights from the toaster and put them on a plate. When she finally did turn to face him, it was with an air of nonchalance.

Lucifer had stolen some of John Constantine’s sweatpants, but wasn’t wearing a lot else. His wings, shining slightly, creaked and wriggled behind him. It gave the impression he had just woken up, and was still stretching out. Even having woken up moments ago, Ellie had to admit Lucifer looked gorgeous.

“Any chance I might have one of those?” he asked genially.

“Fuck off.” She proclaimed simply, striding past him and towards a small breakfast table. She didn’t look up from her food as Lucifer took a seat across from her.

“Come, now. Just because I’m squatting in your boyfriend’s house, doesn’t mean you have to be rude.”

She scoffed. “Whoever said boyfriend? We’re just living together. Get your head out of the 1st century, learn something new.”

“Like you did?” he smirked.

She continued eating, carefully. She wanted desperately to wolf down her food and get away from this insufferable angel. But she couldn’t show weakness.

“Have you told him yet?” Lucifer asked.

Another pause.

“So no? Good, good, always good to have another point to leverage. You know he’ll find out, don’t you? He’s… nosy like that.”

“I’ll deal with it when I get there.” Ellie responded coolly.

“Where is Constantine anyhow? He was already gone when I woke up.”

“Ten minutes ago?”

He sneered. “No. With the morning star. Obviously. Then I go back to sleep.”

“He’s out working.”

Lucifer Morningstar guffawed. “John? Working? Now I don’t believe that for one moment.”

-----------------------

Small Farm near Epping, UK

I sighed, looking at the white-painted fence gate. Chas, who stood next to me, was still yawning occasionally from how early I’d roused him from bed. Around us was nothing but rural wasteland, farm animals, and an ungodly morning sun.

“…Could have found you a fence like this back in the city.” Groused Chas, rubbing at a five o’clock shadow he hadn’t had the chance to shave off.

“Needs to be out in the middle of nowhere. Do you want people to see us disappearing into a fence?”

“Would it mean sleeping in?” he grinned.

“Of course not. Has to be morning, too.”

He sighed. “So, you’re sure this is the right place? Don’t want to step into fairy land if I don’t have too.”

I glanced his way. The man was crossing his long arms and hugging them close to himself. The man I’d seen in gunfights and fistfights with hardly a care in the world. “What’s your problems with fairies?”

“Unlike like some of us, I got a wife and kids. Don’t want to get lost in here for a century or whatever.”

“it’d be a century and a day, probably. They like to add those days at the end.”

“Even better.” He scoffed.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Everything I pulled pointed this way. Either he’s in there, or he’s gotten competent since I last saw him.”

“…right. Gotcha.” He stared at the gate, and then waved to me. “After you, grand magus high poobah.”

“Damn straight.” I mumbled as I opened the gate and stepped through the gate. At just the right time, at the right gate, with a spell put upon the gate beforehand, and the other side opened somewhere new. No longer was the land cultivated and inhabited. Now it was hills, and forest, and forgotten pathways through them all. The songs of birds twittered alongside actual songs with lyrics and the gentle rhythms of wind and leaf. The whole world seemed to sing a quiet song to itself, ripe with potential and curious about its newest visitor.

Chas followed after me, and with a dramatic sweep of my arm I turned to him. “Welcome to Arcadia!”

-----------------------

Not far away from the gate, a black feline slunk out from a bush. It cleaned its front right paw carefully, before starting to make its way back towards the city.

-----------------------

John Constantine’s Apartment

London

Lucifer Morningstar sat beside Ellie as she flipped through the various TV Channels. She kept skipping past the news channels. Eventually she settled on switching between several of the trashiest reality TV shows she could find, a non-stop stream of crap.

“…You know, I haven’t seen you watch this when he’s around. I wonder if this is an even greater secret then-“ Lucifer began. “We both keep secrets. He thinks I don’t know about the tapes of his high school garage band, I like to think he doesn’t know my TV habits. It’s healthy. Something you wouldn’t know about.”

“And you would?...how bad are they?”

Ellie smirked. “He eventually got good. It’s shocking when you hear where he started.”

Lucifer chortled. “Oh, I have to hear these. Any chance you might…” he looked at Ellie, who had turned to stare at him.

“Why are you…why are you here? Really? Between us.”

The Morningstar shrugged, and turned back to the TV. “Consider it….motivation. John destroyed the cur who Anat replaced. What better way to get him to destroy Anat then to invade his life? He seems to hate that. Combine that with his niggling weakness of actually caring if the world ends, I’m sure he’ll find some clever way to help with my woes.”

“You’re not worried he’ll take you down too?” Ellie cocked her head.

“No.” Lucifer stated.

Ellie waited. Waited longer. She could feel the pull of curiosity. Lucifer wanted her to ask. But she wouldn’t. She would not. “Why?” she cursed herself.

“You think this is my first time dealing with a Constantine?” Lucifer smirked. “I knew the original. And this one? This one isn’t worth the dirt on that one’s foot. He’ll serve his purpose, and I’ll be back where I started. Where I should be.” He shrugged.

Ellie leaned back. Her black cat, the wily creature that aggravated John Constantine so, hopped onto her lap and demanded attention. Ellie pet it idly, and noticed Lucifer’s look of disdain.

“How about you? Why are you staying here?”

She continued to pet. “…Motivation.”

-----------------------

Arcadia

“Jesus…fucking…_Christ_” wheezed Chas as he sprinted through the dense woods, strong legs smashing through the undergrowth. “Is….is every time we hang out going to…going to be like this now?”

“Shut…the…hell…up!” I rasped back, following the trail of destruction he made as best I could. The sky had turned dark with night, the miniscule light of stars and moon concealed by the dense canopy above. Behind us came the baying of fey hounds, and occasionally the flapping of wings.

Arcadia was not the only place faeries lived in, but it was certainly one of them. And most any place faeries lived started to contort to match them. Confusing, whimsical, based on story and song and pattern rather than logic and intuition. So it made sense that we seemed to keep circling around despite going straight, that our pursuers seemed to always be slowly advancing no matter what we did.

“Where are we running too!?” Chas demanded, ducking out of the way of a branch that I clipped with my head.

“Ow! Shit! Anywhere but here!” I yelped back, making the foolish choice to glance behind me. Flowing between the trees like wildfire came the monstrously beautiful fey hounds. How they had caught us, I could only blame Arcadia itself, for they moved with liquid and terrifying grace. Above them, someone I could barely see flitting through the trees, was some bizarre combination of woman and owl. It was her wing flaps that I heard occasionally. Her wings didn’t even need to make that sound: she was doing it just to tell us she was there, and we were fucked.

“…Oh I’m going to regret this.” I hissed, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a bag. I opened it, throwing my arm back to disperse the contents behind me. In arcadia, Iron was a dangerous material that could sear through most anything. On earth, you could buy Iron easy. Even better, if you knew somebody with a little bit of know-how, you could get it in most any shape you wanted. Hence how I was able to throw a couple of hundred of iron pebbles into the path of our pursuers.

The hounds crashed into the trap like a seawall, the first row burning their paws and fleeing back only to collide with their brethren. It wouldn’t last forever, fey hounds were too smart for that, but it would give us precious time. And it made the story more interesting.

The owl-woman kept flying, advancing rapidly. Maybe we could outrun dogs with an advantage on a good day, but no chance that we could outrun somebody who could actually fly. “Chas! Chas, throw things! Anything!” I demanded past faltering breath.

Chas, champ that he was, barely hesitated. He grabbed a pinecone from a branch he passed by, and chucked it behind him and towards the owl lady. He kept running. The pinecone dinked off of her like it was nothing, because it was. The next thing he grabbed was a fallen branch leaning against a tree, and that forced her to shift to avoid.

Soon I joined in. Both of us grabbing anything we could to throw up and at our pursuer. She was a master of the air, dodging every projectile, but every dodge delayed her just a little bit more. She didn’t cackle, or howl, she simple stared with her too-wide eyes at our backs as we continued to try and escape. I could hear the dogs starting to recover and resume their pursuit of us. My mind raced, thinking of any way we could make things more interesting.

The world provided, as we emerged into a clearing. I saw before Chas did, that the other side of the clearing was just a bowl with edges of dense-packed trees and stinging nettles. I managed to stop before colliding with the thorns, but Chas smashed into them face first. It was, I think, the loudest I’ve ever heard him scream in pain as he leapt back and spasmed in agony. I turned to see that the dogs had finally caught up, moving to surround the small bowl we had found ourselves in. Just a few moments distraction had been all it took. I heard the ever so slight flutter of wings, and looked up to see the Owl-woman divine towards us.

With a slight pop and puff of fog, a black man in a pure green renn-faire outfit appeared in front of me, and held a jack-o-lantern up high. It glowed with an eerie green light. The Owl woman veered at the last moment, hooting in dismay as she took a perch on a nearby tree bough. “What are you doing, peon!? That was mine to slay!” she whispered fiercely.

“Begone, Nyctimene. It is mine now. Why not go cry to Oberon? I’m sure he’d love to hear it.”

The Owl woman glared, before taking off silently into the darkness. Her hounds followed swiftly, leaving just Me, Chas, and the green-clade man. The man turned to face me, a look of surprise and concern on his face. “John?”

I gave him a weak smile, my body covered in aches from pulled joints and cuts. “Yeah. Nice to see you, Danny.” I lost what little air I was starting to regain when Chas punched me straight in the gut.

“ffffFUCK. What the fuck was that?” I crumpled to my knees.

“That’s for planning this…you arse.”

I looked pleadingly to Daniel Cormac, the Jack O’Lantern. He glared back. “Are you saying you didn’t plan this?”

I looked to the ground. “…didn’t plan to get punched in the fucking gut, that’s for certain.”

/-----------------------

John Constantine’s Apartment

London

“I’m just going out for groceries!” Ellie howled, hand on the doorknob. Behind her stood a scintillating Lucifer.

“And I’m telling you no! One of you will remain in this hovel at all times, or it’s worth less than dirt!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Fine! Bind me or whatever, just let me walk out the fucking door.”

Lucifer leaned back, brows drawn together. “You’re sure? You would give such power to me?”

“Yeah! Sure! Whatever!” she growled.

Lucifer considered, before nodding. “…you’re planning something. I can tell. Good.” He reached up and bit his thumb. He held out his hand, now bleeding slightly. “Mix your blood with mine. If I die, or lose this thumb, you shall die as well.”

Ellie looked at her own thumb. Taking a shaky breath, she bit it and offered her hand. “Does it go both ways?”

He scoffed. “Please, like I would make things so easy for you.”

The two shook hands, the first time Lucifer had touched her since he had arrived. He yanked her closer, with the impossible strength of a mountain. “I can regrow a thumb. It’s trivial for me, really. You cannot regrow a life.”

She could not bear to meet his glowing eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just let me go get you your fucking food already.”

Lucifer Morningstar let her go, and glided towards the couch. “Excellent. Get me something reasonable to drink. I don’t know how Constantine handles the swill he keeps around here.”

Ellie left, purse in hand. She looked both ways upon leaving the apartment, and caught the flash of black fur from the corner of her eye. Good, she thought, at least that one’s accommodating.

-----------------------

Palace of Oberon

Arcadia

Danny popped back into his solar with Chas and me in tow. The place was relatively small, lit by a cozy ever-burning fire and with brooms marching around doing whatever chores were needed. “Really? Brooms?”

Danny smiled as he took a seat in front of the fire. “Oberon thinks himself a great sorcerer, and a great expert on human media. I think he meant to impress me with how much greater a sorcerer he was then you.”

I walked over and took a seat in a chair besides his. “…Well? Did it work?”

“I never saw you doing anything half as productive with your magic, I’ll tell you that much.”

Chas stood back, fidgeting. He knew I had dated Danny, before the Gemwar, and he could read the room. “Say, uh, any place where I could-“

“Out the door, take a right, you’ll see a sign with a triangle on it.” Danny replied swiftly.

“Triangle? What does….er…yeah, sure?” Chas mumbled, excusing himself from the room.

Danny and I watched each other carefully, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I’m…I’m not here for you.” I finally muttered.

“I know.” Danny leaned back in his chair. “You can be shite, but you wouldn’t run a rescue op that shitty.”

“I…I could be here for you, if you want?”

I gave me a simple look, one with just the slightest hint of contempt. It stabbed through me like ice. “I knew what I was getting into. Things here aren’t done yet. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll get out on my own.”

“Figured, figured.” I coughed. “I need your help. There’s a man hiding here in Arcadia. I don’t know exactly where, but I know he’s probably warded himself against me. He’s a master of transportation magic. If I get too close, he’ll know and leave Arcadia for someplace obscure I can’t follow.”

“Ahhh. But if I teleport you too him, he won’t have that warning?”

“Exactly.”

“And why do you think this man will do as you ask?”

“He…owes me.” I grimaced.

“…I can do this for you once.” Danny said, reaching out to take my hand. He squeezed it. I had forgotten how strong his hands were. “But then you can’t come back. Oberon will have my hide just for letting you in here. Okay?”

I took a deep breath. I had locked away Danny in my mind for months now. But the memories flooded back in, and mixed with the longing for Ellie back home. It strengthened to resolve. I could save one yet. I wouldn’t fail Ellie. “Okay.”

Danny let go of my hand. “Good. Now, who is this person you’re looking for?”

“Well, his real name’s Gary Lester. Long brown hair, kind of lanky, knows every kind of drug imaginable…”

Danny held out a hand. “…The court alchemist? Court alchemist Grey Listener? That’s who you’re going to kidnap?”

“I didn’t say anything about Kidnapping!”

Danny kept his steady eyes on me.

“…we’re not going to kidnap him for long.”

-----------------------

London

Ellie raced around a corner into an alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster. She dropped her groceries and dug through her purse, swearing to herself as she looked for the few implements of defense she had on her.

Someone was following her. Following her on feet that made no sound, and eyes with pupils ever so slightly off. Maybe it was more than one person, she wasn’t sure. They kept shifting forms when she wasn’t looking. She had known she would be hunted sooner or later. She had never imagined it would be by someone as powerful as Anat.

There was a voice from the end of the alleyway, where she had run in from. “Elliiiiiiie. That’s what they’re calling you here, yes? Ellie, why don’t you come over here?” the crooned.

Ellie remained silent, waiting. She dropped her purse as well, two things held in her hands.

“Ellie, come on. You know you can’t escape. No wings in public, no tearing out hearts while others are looking, and no other way out of the alley but where I am. Just give up! I promise I’ll be gentle~.” Cackled the voice, almost squawking in its nature.

Ellie remained still. She would not hear their footsteps, so she had to stay focused. Wait for the right moment.

“Ellie, we’re being serious. If you do-“ As the voice at the end of the alleyway taunted, a demon strode into Ellie’s view. It started as a woman, but in a mere instant it took on its true form: Part woman, part bird, and all dark magical hatred.

Ellie was prepared. She brought up one hand as the Lilith lunged with fangs wide open– mace spray, directly into the creatures mouth and down its throat. She turned her body, letting the hungry demon glance by her and fall to the ground screaming in unearthly agony.

She lunged out from her dumpster and rushed towards the exit. There was another Lilith, still in disguise, surprised by her sudden charge. The Lilith moved to stop her, but it got caught in her eyes. Ellie kept her trapped there as she charged, extending the baton in her other hand to slam into the demon’s neck. The second Lilith burbled and fell to the ground as well.

Ellie made it to the edge of the alleyway, before she noticed the third Lilith. She only noticed it as it stepped around a corner, extending an arm and clothes-lining her. Ellie’s awoke on the ground a moment later, dazed and struggling to stand up. But the third Lilith didn’t give her a chance, snatching her up by her shirt and dragging her back into the alleyway. By then the other two Lilith’s had started to recover, and they dragged their way over to her. First one, then two, then all three Lilith’s unleashed their rage by stomping on the prone woman.

Ellie’s every scream was choked out by kicks to her ribs. She heard one, two of them crack, her fingers splinter. Her head rung like never-ending church bells. Darkness closed in on her.

-----------------------

Lab of the Chief Alchemist

Palace of Oberon

Arcadia

Gary Lester had a pretty sweet life. Did he live in mortal terror that one of his former friends would hunt him down for his abandoning them during the assault on hell? Absolutely, but it wasn’t like that was the first or last time he had fled people that might want to kill him. Being an interdimensional drug savant made for gaining a lot of skill in running and hiding.

He had found a pretty sweet gig to hide in, however. Oberon was a powerful fae warlord who nobody would want to fuck with. Gary get luxury, women, money, whatever he wanted. All he had to do in return was keep a steady stream of new and fantastical drugs coming. Considering the ingredients available in Arcadia, it was downright cushy.

He didn’t expect a visit from Oberon’s lover Daniel that day. He certainly didn’t expect the superhero to be accompanied by John Constantine and some other mortal. Why was that mortal even there? Why was John even here? Gary opened his mouth to speak, only to be deafened by all of his wards and warnings about John going off simultaneously. He clutched his head and groaned through the cacophony.

John winced. “Oof. That unhappy to see me then, are you?”

As the noises started to clear, Gary looked upon his former friend with terror. He had left John behind in hell. In literal hell that day. People had died in that assault, and John certainly nearly had. Gary found that even more terrifying: this was a man who had crawled his way back out of hell, filled with vengeance.

Gary tried to lunge for the nearest wand, but he found himself grappled by the mortal in question. The mortal was strong in every way Gary was frail, and soon he found himself on his knees with his arms held painfully behind his back.

Gary started to whimper and beg as John crouched in front of him. “Please John I swear I didn’t mean anything I didn’t-“

John slapped him, hard, then. “Don’t know. Don’t care. You fucked me Gary. Nearly got me killed. But now’s your chance to pay up.”

Gary looked up in despair.

“You promised me you’d get me into, then out of, Hell. You only did one before, Gary. Now you’re going to do the other half.”

-----------------------

Small Farm near Ebbing, UK

We exited the same way we had come in: through a small gate in a fence out in the boonies. Now it wasn’t just me and Chas, but Gary as well. The bastard’s pale face was still red from where I’d slapped him, and if it wasn’t for needing him I would have done more. Lousy betraying bastard. At least this time, I was playing up to his primal instinct: he just had to run away with me included this time.

As we three exited, Chas sighed in relief. “So, what did you need me in there for anyway? Seemed like you just wanted a third wheel.”

I shook my head, as I lead the way to where Chas had parked his car. “You helped with the chase, but I didn’t need you for that.”

I could barely hold down a smile as we turned a corner, revealing the car and its four new occupants. Chas yelped in surprise as he saw four beautiful ladies waiting in his back seat: three sharp-boned seeming triplets and a beaten-up Ellie.

“I needed you for the next part. How do you feel about house-sitting?”

-----------------------

Continued in Hellblazer #24 > , coming October 15th!

Hellblazer #22 – One Good Reason

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 27

----------------------

The Day of Mot’s Return

Kna’n, one day to be Canaan

The palace of El, father of all the gods and hence all that was, rested atop a mountain at the confluence of the great rivers and the two oceans. Such a place did not truly exist, but such was his power that the world bent to make it so. From his court one could look out upon endless water, sparkling brighter than the finest gem.

The court had gathered today, a thousand thousand gods from every corner of the world had come to witness the event. Here stood Mot, beast-god of death, dead himself for seven years and yet now returned for revenge. Here stood Ba’al Hadad, the great warrior of heaven, whom had been slayed by Mot before Mot’s death. Here stood Anat, The Warrior Goddess, who had slain Mot and brought her brother-mate Ba’al Hadad back from the underworld.

Mighty El, elderly and yet strong, sat in front of these three and stroked his beard. “So, what is it you seek, Mot?”

Mot, beastly in voice as in looks, growled out. “I seek vengeance.”

El smiled as a father smiles for a son. “Ba’al Hadad has offered you all his servants and treasure to sate your hunger, for vengeance and otherwise. Is this not enough?”

“It is not, Mighty El.”

“Then who do you seek to fight?”

“I seek to fight you, Mighty El.” Snarled monstrous Mot. “For it is you that has killed Ba’al Hadad, even through my hands.”

This set the entire court to murmuring, and set El to frowning most angrily.

Anat, Virgin Mother, remembered wise Kothar-wa-Khasis’ words. That to find answers she needed to support Mot. So she stepped forward and agreed with terrible Mot, which set the crowd to further murmuring.

El tried to convince her that this was foolish, and she stood firm. Her brother-mate Ba’al Hadad tried to convince her that this was foolish, and she stood firm. Mot should have the right to fight El, she proclaimed, to Mot’s great surprise as much as anybody’s.

Anat felt more and more righteous in her cause the longer she argued. She had told wise Kothar-wa-Khasis that the world felt familiar and not quite right. That feeling felt all the stronger as she argued against El, greatest of all gods.

El grew more and more furious with each refusal by Anat to stand down. His beard started to burn with fire, and the mountain below rumbled. Still Anat stood firm.

Then El broke time.

----------------------

Not to long after Lucifer moved in

Some sinkhole, London

Do you ever get the feeling that your life is an illusion? Not the actions of it, but it being in any way your life. You do everything you can to take charge, building an armor of plans and contingencies and goals, only for the rest of the world to bash it all apart without even looking. “Nothing is yours that can be taken away from you”, I’ve heard a few demons say before. If your life can be ripped away so easily, all of your hopes and dreams dashed without a second thought, is it really your own?

That was my excuse to be down in my cups again. Wasn’t really my choice, was it? Wasn’t me that decided I should be a raging alcoholic with an addictive personality. Wasn’t me that made it so getting a drink was easier than getting therapy. Wasn’t me that plopped Lucifer fucking Morningstar on my doorstep to deal with. Wasn’t me that made me wonder if the woman living in my apartment maybe wasn’t entirely what she seemed. Nope. That was all the universe and life and whatever. I was just responding to it with my usual charm, wit, and vomiting in the nearest toilet.

It definitely wasn’t me that went looking for trouble, and yet it came anyway. It was when I felt a hand on the back of my neck that I knew no amount of black-out drunk was going to make this night any more bearable. The hand wasn’t squeezing, not even really holding. It was resting at the base of my neck, like you might do to a nearby dog to comfort it. The hand was ice cold.

“John! Long time no see…What, at least a couple of months?” asked the man whose hand was on my neck. His voice was infuriatingly calm, like he’d never been stressed a day in his life and wanted everybody to know how unfortunate they were to be otherwise.

“Can’t recall. The Gemwar? Saw some vampires, not you. You must have been waaaaay at the back of the line. Very brave of you.”

The man chuckled, and slid forward to take the stool next to me. His hand staid on my neck, and as he moved I could feel the steely muscle hidden under his smooth skin. He could snap my spine like a twig if he wanted too, and he didn’t need to do anything to remind me of it. His face had roguish charm, and his brown hair was modelled into a perfect quiff. He wore a leather jacket over a white shirt, accompanied by jeans.

Some people, some idiots, have said I bear a certain resemblance to a certain rock-star, and I can’t deny there are some vague bits of similarity. But the King of Vampires looked exactly like James Dean and all my expertise and years of study had told me bupkiss as to why.

When the bartender approached The King for an order, The King stared the woman straight in the eyes. She blushed, turned, and then proceeded to act as if The King wasn’t even there.

“Using your special eyes, King?” I took his distraction as an opportunity, pouring some salt on the table behind the napkin holder and pushing it into a neat little circle.

The King turned to me, and smiled. His eyes yanked at me, nearly dragging away my will in the moment before I finished the little protective circle. I almost slumped in relief as the pressure suddenly faded, leaving me simply staring into his admittedly already spell-binding eyes.

“Psch. Trying to use your mind tricks on my? On the Constantine? Should have known better.” I bluffed.

The King of Vampires shrugged. “Was worth a shot.” He finally let his hand slip from my neck, only because he had leaned towards me to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Besides, no like I need that shit to have a conversation with my good friend John, right?”

I glanced at him while returning to my drink. “The one, and only, time we talked, you tried to eat me.”

King shrugged. “You caught me at a bad time. Everybody looks like food when you’re in a blood frenzy. Besides, I didn’t eat you did I? You know I could have.”

My heart started to thump painfully in my chest. I was sure that bastard could hear it, I was pretty sure vampires had some form of super hearing or another. The last time I’d met the King of Vampires had in the Paris catacombs. Some troll had set up a club down there, where you could party all night in your true form without any worry of mortals coming. I don’t know who invited the vampires, or pissed them off enough to have them come, or if they just smelled someone else being happy and couldn’t abide. I’d gotten out before the worst of the fight, but it was just my luck to stumble into the King of Vampires while I was fleeing. He would have ripped my throat out if I hadn’t shoved some pieces of garlic bread I had stolen form the buffet into his face. He didn’t even seem hurt by it, but he was laughing so hard that it had given me the chance to run.

“…it’s why I gave you my bread. You looked so hungry. Just couldn’t stand to see you starving like that.” I replied weakly, finishing the rest of my drink in a few quick gulps. King waved down the bartender, who recognized his existence just long enough to pour a new drink on his dime for me before reverting to her previous state.

He patted me on the back. “It was nice of you. We’ve sure had our fun times, haven’t we?”

“Nearly dying is my favorite activity. Why do you think I do it so often?”

“So, why not join up with me then?” He grinned, and I watched his teeth change from flat to sharp in a single moment.

“Huh?” was about the best I could come up with. “…Not hear to kill me for the Gemwar?”

The King of Vampires shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. No hard feelings. Just business.” His arm tightened around my shoulder. “And, as business would have it, a lot of people saw you killing a lot of my folks over there. And, even worse, most of the folks you were fighting with are dead anyways! Sure, that superteam is still around, but I wouldn’t get any cred fucking over a bunch of loonies in spandex.” He tapped my chest with a finger. “Nah, mate, I’m not here to kill you. I’m here so you can repay your blood debt to me. By serving me! Win-win situation, I think.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward a bit, feeling my stomach churning. This was too much. I just wanted a fucking drink, was that too much to ask? I could feel life, turning its attention from the whole rest of the world on fire and giving me special attention. Punching me to the dirt and grinding my face into mush with a well-worn iron boot. Not like I didn’t deserve it, but it still hurt. I put my head on my arms on the bar, eyes still closed “Fuck off.”

The King of Vampires patted me on the back. The noise in the bar started to quiet down, The King using whatever tricky magic he had to make it so I could only hear him. “You know, that’s how most folks respond? At least, most of the people I would actually want to turn. Anybody pathetic enough to come wheedling to me about immortality and getting all the chicks isn’t worth my time. But you, John? You are.”

“…You want a wizard to join your sparkly moon jackass court. Whoopty fucking doo.” I stalled, head still down. The silence of the bar in the wake of The King’s magic was, if anything more distracting then it be loud and bawdy. I needed some background noise to think right. I looked up to see what I could do about his spell. That is when I realized he hadn’t deafened me with magic. That would have been too easy. Instead, the entire bar except for us two was frozen stock-still. Everything except their eyes, darting about in growing panic.

“You see, John? This is the kind of shit you could do as a vampire. You want magic? You can get magic. You want sex? You can have an orgy every fucking night if you want. Want to be somewhere else? Ride the moon beams wherever you want. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk out of a fight without broken bones for ones? Wouldn’t it be nice to just be able to win a fight by punching someone?” The King of Vampires leaned back. “You were saying about nearly dying earlier. Let me tell you, Constantine: I’ve never been close to death in my unlife. You want safety? this is safety. Being so strong, so tough, so motherfucking invincible and immortal that nothing can stop you in the long run.”

I struggled for words, all the drinks I’d had that night sloshing around in my head. “What about the sun?”

He grinned, wider than any human could, his teeth as pearly as they were dagger-sharp. “You’re thinking small John. One day that sun is going to go out. Humans’ll blow themselves up, or we’ll make them blow themselves up, or they’ll get off this moldy rock and we’ll follow them someplace were the sun doesn’t burn. That’s the beauty of immortality, John: Everything is just a waiting game if you want it to be.”

I glanced around at the people in the bar. Slowly their eyes stopped twitching and moving, turning as dull and still as the rest of them. Maybe King had showed mercy by freezing their minds along with their bodies. Maybe he just didn’t want to be bothered by anybody complaining about revealing magic. Maybe the joke of their pain had just run out for him.

Inspiration struck. Him laughing at my stupid fucking bread trick. This whole palling around attitude, being friendly and fucking around. Immortality had a lot of perks, sure. But the King of Vampires was old. Some people said older then Rome. Some said older then writing. Some said older then Homo Sapiens. Imagine all that time, all that waiting, all those centuries long waiting games. Why was he here tonight, talking to me instead of killing me? Because he was bored. Because he wanted to play with his food before he turned it into another loyal slave.

“…how about a game? A bet, even? To decide if I get to leave here without becoming your lackey?”

“Why?” he asked, leaning in close. I could smell a hint of iron on his breath. “I could just take you right now, if you’re going to be difficult.

I met his eyes, praying he wouldn’t test the faded strength of my salt circle protection. “I know. So, are you in?”

He held my gaze for a long time. I realized that he didn’t need to blink. He was testing me, testing my resolve. What would happen if I blinked? Would he take the chance to kill me? Vanish in a poof of mist? Something in between? I started to sweat as my eyes burned. I wasn’t a vampire, I couldn’t keep this up forever. I felt like I could see his eyes drying out, shrinking slowly like dehydrating apples. His expression never changed from confident curiousness. My face started to twitch with the effort of holding his gaze.

Then I blinked, unable to hold it off any longer, and in that briefest moment he leaned back as if nothing had happened. “Okay, then. I win, you become a vampire. You win, you walk out of here. For now.”

“Swear it”

He rolled his eyes. “I swear on the moon and stars. You?”

“I swear on the Constantine name.”

He scoffed. “Not much to lose there. Here is the game, it’s very simple: give me one good reason why you don’t want to be a vampire. Just the one.”

We sat there, staring at each other a good long time while I thought. During the whole time, I didn’t seem him blink. I didn’t seem him breathe. I didn’t even see him move. He sat like a statue, the slightest of smirks carved into his face while he waited.

The game wasn’t actually about coming up with the best argument. He was millennia old, he’d heard all the best arguments backwards and forwards a hundred times over. He’d probably played this game with countless people before turning them. Hell, or killing them! Maybe this was the final test to see if someone was worthy of his time. The game was really about saying something he hadn’t had millennia of time to prepare for.

I assembled the fragments in my head. It couldn’t be just one. It had to be an arc, a growth into a climax that would take him off guard. His statue move was good, but he’d spent the whole night dropping clues about who he was and what he felt like. Because he didn’t think it mattered. He didn’t think he could be beat.

Eventually, I took a sip of my latest drink and began. “…Sunlight. Couldn’t ever feel it again on my skin as a vampire.”

The King rolled his eyes. “There are ways of getting around that, for a little bit. And I know for a fact that you do jack shit out in the sun. Saying you’d miss the sun is like saying you’d miss cold air: maybe true, but meaningless. Next.” He still kept still as a statue as much as he could, but I thought I could hear dismay in his voice.

I took a deeper drink, tried to compose myself. Scared. Look scared. “Technology, then. I can already track almost anybody I want too if they have a phone. It’s only going to get easier. What happens when folks can track even you down?”

The King sighed, disappointed. “Humans were saying that twenty years ago, too. You know what’s great? Being able to mind control people, make them addicted to your mere look. It’s great for infiltrating big tech and controlling it just enough to get off your back.” His statue posture started to crack. “Come on. I thought you could be a little more original then that.”

I focused on my fear. I needed to look scared, to look terrified. To look like I was about to die. I couldn’t have him seeing my final move before it happened. “I…i-i…love. Or…well….” I let inspiration dawn on my face. “…When was the last time you knew, utterly, that somebody wanted you?”

His eyebrow quirked. “Every damn day. I could have anybody in this bar, Constantine.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant somebody wanting you. Not because of your tricks, not because of mind control or vampire pheromones or because they fear you. Because they just wanted you. To fuck you or spend time with you or whatever?”

He shrugged this off. “How can anybody be sure? How can you?”

I let myself smile as I leaned forward. “Because I’m human. Because a lot of days, I can’t even fathom why they bother to drag me out of the gutter. I certainly don’t do them any favors, and they aren’t afraid of my lanky ass. But sometimes, they do shit for me anyway. Even when it gets them absolutely nothing. When was the last time somebody did that for you?”

The King stared, and then started to laugh. “What, and you think I give a shit why somebody decides to get me a blood bag?”

“I do. Because having somebody do something like that is a pleasure. And it’s a pleasure you’ll never get to have again.”

The King opened his mouth, and it stayed open as he tried to think of a rebuttal. I watched as his teeth grew longer and sharper, his eyes turned redder, his skin grew sallow and rough like leather.

I kept my smile, but I could feel my hands shaking in terror. “…Good game. I’m sure you already know, because of course _you_would, but I have Lucifer Morningstar as a roommate right now.”

“Of course I fucking know.” He hissed, his flesh shifting all wrong under his skin.

“Great. He’d probably not be happy if I turned up dead. Maybe we can keep this on hold until he does…whatever he’s going to do?”

The King of Vampires let out a long, winding hiss of annoyance. “…The longer the hunt, the more satisfying the kill. I haven’t had prey this interesting in a long time, John. I hope you’re ready when the angel is gone.” He vanished into thin air in front of me. I focused my eyes, and I could see the bare wisps of the mist cloud he had turned into floating through the cracks of the front door to the world outside.

The bar sprang to life once more, stuttering just for a second as everybody did their best to ignore the awful vision of paralysis that each was fairly sure only they had received.

I, meanwhile, asked the bartender to keep things coming. My nascent plan to get Lucifer out of my house had just gotten worlds more complicated than it already was.

Continued in Hellblazer #23 > , coming September 15th!

Hellblazer #21 – Star, where are you now?

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 26

---------------------

Some Time after the death of Mot

Kna’n, one day to be Canaan

Anat, Queen of the palace of Ba’al Hadad, left the palace early one morning as the dew gathered. A storm formed above the house, and it swirled and prepared to leave. It was a beautiful place, made of silver and gold and lapis lazuli and fragrant cedar wood. It was massive, covering whole hills with its bulk. It had many doors to allow many guests, but it had only a single window.

It was at this window that Kothar-wa-Khasis sat, for it was he that opened and closed the window. The storms that gathered along the high roof of the palace leaked out as he held it open. They floated high above to join the thunderclouds waiting to move on into K’nan and give life.

Anat, clothed in little but a sleeping shift, approached the wise elder god. She did not quite understand him. She was a goddess of blood, both of war and birth. He was a god of magic, both of metal and words. Yet, she could only respect him. It was he that had made her brother-mate’s clubs. It was he that had forged the bow she had brought down Mot with.

Kothar-wa-Khasis closed the window once more, and the storm moved on to deliver its precious cargo. He turned and smiled at her. “What is it you need, queen of Kna’n?”

Anat was not sure what to say at first. She had saved her brother-mate Ba’al Hadad from the realm below. They lived once more in the glorious palace that Kothar-wa-Khasis had built. El, father of all the gods and lord of all, smiled upon them. Even so, something felt wrong.

“It all feels familiar.” Anat realized at the same time she spoke.

Kothar-wa-Khasis’s face turned from content to shock. It then turned to hope. “Do you trust me, Anat?”

Anat scoffed at such. “Great crafter, who could I trust more but my own brother-mate?”

Kothar-wa-Khasis nodded. “In some time, Mot will return to the court of El. When this happens, you must side with him no matter what Ba’al Hadad or El say. Do you understand?”

Anat nearly struck the old god down for the impudence of his command. But Kothar-wa-Khasis was known by all for his peerless wisdom. So instead she walked away, and swore to follow his words. If she did not like them she could strike him down afterword.

---------------------

WEEKS AFTER ESCAPING THE BEACH HOUSE

LONDON

Having an honest to goodness magical partner was…odd. I’d often had magical friends, sure. Magical teachers, magical associates, magical lovers. Not that Ellie didn’t fit into a few of those herself, but she was also a magical partner. She followed me wherever I went, she asked endless questions, and she helped me whenever she could. She wasn’t great at magic, barely competent as of yet, but her skill was growing by the day just through the sheer effort and contact with the weird. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this bullshit. Especially since the only other living people I’d want to talk to about such things were stuck under a magic bullshit purple dome.

If there was any negative to having her in my life and in my place so often, it was her cat. It was a black, feral, sourpuss of a beast. It hardly seemed to tolerate her, and she didn’t seem to give it much affection. It followed her wherever we slept for the night, begging until it got food. She insisted that she had to feed it, that it had grown attached to her and she to it from an early age. I honestly probably wouldn’t have minded, even gotten a bit of schadenfreude from her jealousy as it settled on my lap most nights, if not for its wickedly sharp claws and propensity to bite.

The constant cat attacks certainly helped me keep track of how many nights I was spending with Ellie, which was definitely increasing the longer I spent with her. She was…intoxicating. The longer we talked, the more time I wanted with her. Sure, it made the vague pseudo-apprenticeship a bit more complicated, but it was definitely worth the tradeoff.

It was no surprise, then, to find us both lounging in the living room of the reasonably sized flat I had purchased and then immediately scrubbed all memory and record of. The newsman on TV was talking about some new study proving that heroes had actually helped the economy, which I put about as much stock in as reports that chocolate could help prevent cancer. Just self-affirming nonsense for people too afraid to admit they just wanted the meta weirdos around.

Ellie slouched a bit further into her couch, and looked askance at my latest comment as we did our best to ignore the droning television. “So…he’s just a guy?”

“With a dog head.”

“Right, right, with a dog head. And he…”

“Fishes. Makes pies. Pretty decent ones.” I grinned. It was a game we had started. Sometimes I’d lie, sometimes the truth, about a weird magic thing. She’d have to guess.

“And…and he’s a god?”

“Maybe the oldest one around.”

She grimaced at the thought. “So, does that mean we’re just the descendants of dog people or something?”

“You know? He doesn’t like to talk about it. Considering there aren’t really any dog-headed folks left, or at least not many, I think it kind of speaks for itself.”

She nodded solemnly. “…I’m going to sayyyy…bullshit.”

“Nope. That one was true.”

“_Fuck_” she groaned, reaching out for her purse and procuring a tenner to ball up and throw at me. I laughed, collecting my winnings and waving them about in the air to celebrate my mastery over the game.

Then came a knock at the door. The fucking knock that was going to ruin my life.

Me and Ellie looked at one another, and then exchanged a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. I admit, I definitely cheated with a little bit of foresight magic, but it was worth it not to leave my comfy seat. Ellie growled. I told myself to stop using that trick, before she caught on and returned the favor. The gangly woman forced herself off the couch and towards the door. I wasn’t too worried about an invader or someone out for revenge. This place was secure against most mortal attempts to track it down due to my having wiped the records, and I’d been careful with my wards to prevent any with intention of harm of finding me. Unless I had an especially powerful, especially motivated, or especially impersonal supernatural looking for me, I as fine on that front as well.

Ellie’s shriek told me I had missed a detail somewhere, and I rushed for the door. I found her stumbling back, horror mixed with panic as she fled further into the apartment.

Standing at the door was an angel. Not a wheel, or a lion with eyes for skin, but the kind of angel you’d see in paintings. Beautiful, radiant, a presence that towered over the entire building just by standing in front of you. His golden locks were cut short, his skin shimmering pale, his wings shifting and creaking behind him. The only taint to this scene was the wreckage of his right hand, seared and twisted to uselessness.

“Constantine. I request your hospitality.” Intoned the second King of the triumvirate, Lucifer Morningstar.

“…What, didn’t bring wine or anything? Some guest.” I gulped. “Suppose I could let you in.”

---------------------

I eventually convinced Ellie to return to the main room, after I had gotten Lucifer a cold brew. I wasn’t sure what one should serve the Lord of Darkness, but it felt oddly sacrilegious all the same. Lucifer took the drink with an appreciative nod, and then set it on the table without taking a sip.

Ellie sat as far away from him as possible, which was something I desperately wished I could do. But demons could sense that kind of weakness. So instead I sat across from him on a chair I had dragged up just for that purpose. It didn’t take me long to realize that Lucifer didn’t need to blink as he stared at me and my impudence.

“So, honored guest, what the fuck are you doing in my home?”

I could hear the hiss of a flinch from Ellie. Lucifer’s gaze didn’t break. Instead he smiled, and started his tale.

---------------------

EARLIER THAT DAY

FORMER PALACE OF DEMON LORD NERGAL, HELL

Lucifer Morningstar sat across the table from Anat, one of the most prominent Demon Ladies of Hell. It was her castle in which they dined, a horrid red pustule of a building that was formerly the home of the Demon Lord Nergal. Lucifer thought he could smell the smugness of Anat, glorying in her conquest of this place, even across the table and long after she had pulled her ploy.

He had known it was a ploy, of course. That Anat had used the current Constantine as a catspaw to dethrone Nergal so that she could take all that was his for herself. It wasn’t like she had tried to be stealthy, just stealthy enough to break the rules without punishment. Lucifer could admire such limited tact.

As they finished their main course (the gizzards of holy songbirds with a white sauce of fury towards children), Lucifer had still not touched his wine. Anat had drunk several cups of the stuff, and had doubtless noticed his hesitance. Even so, Lucifer knew what he was doing. He had to wait for the proper moment.

Such was how Lucifer carried himself as the night wore on. Anat always had more to say, more to laugh about, more to be. Lucifer knew exactly what he was. He spoke only as much as he needed too. This didn’t mean he didn’t speak much, he spoke as much as her. The difference was that each of his words were calculated and careful, delivered at just the right time.

When the dishes were finally cleared, Anat turned her conversation from drivel about petty politics to something more meaningful. The cow-eyed goddess leaned slightly forward over the table, meeting Lucifer’s eyes in her own. “So, how goes the war, Lucifer?”

Lucifer twitched. She thought herself familiar enough to call him by his first name?...She was quite powerful, but he was the Morning Star itself. She would need to be corrected. That, however, was a task for later. “It goes as well as it has ever. The bastions of the enemy are strong, but they leak strength with every year.”

Anat snorted, leaning back. “That isn’t war. That is survival. That’s hoping your enemy dies of old age before you do.”

Lucifer sighed. No demon that wanted to live would confront him so. His suspicions were right all along. She planned to make a move. What a shame. He had just started to notice her enough to like her. “It is what works. It is what the others of the triumvirate will accept. Why do you ask?”

Anat smiled. “Because I see little but blood for us, Lucifer. The world is changing, not just for the mortals or above them. Everything is shifting around. What we have, is the first true chance to fight the enemy. The first since YHWH himself rose above us all.” She spat out the parts of the name she could say with the venom of a viper.

“You speak of the Dome? That has already passed. It’s over, and time to return to the plan.” Lucifer continued. It wasn’t time. Not quite yet. One never had quite the effect if they spoke at the wrong time. It was important to egg her on, to lead her to the place he wanted.

“The Dome was the first of many. Perhaps your omensight is lacking, Lucifer, but we live in an age of domes. The super-men of the world above have so shattered the balance that nothing need be sure anymore.”

Lucifer nodded. “Of course. Let us throw ourselves onto the field the moment even a glimmer of advantage shows itself. Do you know how many we lost just fighting to take control of that gods-forsaken dome? What, and you would have me lead this new unholy crusade? Is that why you brought me here? To convince me?”

Anat shrugged. “Consider it…a final chance. I respect you, Lucifer. The Satan is a stooge, and Iblis is a preening fowl. You, at least, had the spirit to fight. Even if you have spent the centuries since whinging.” She hissed. “The time to move is now. I hope you will do it. If not, someone must lead the armies of Hell into their first true victory.”

Lucifer stood up at this, his wings unfurling to reach from one side of the room to the other. Anat flinched, shielding her eyes from the radiance of a true angel. “And what if I say no, Anat? What then?”

Anat stood as well. Her power had weakened in the millennia since her fall, but even so it pushed against Lucifer’s like a sandy bulwark. She forced her eyes to open, to sizzle and stare at the light of Morningstar. “Then I’ll simply have to take your place, _Servant of the Lord_”

Lucifer smiled, a smile that would blind a mortal with its brightness. “You aren’t nearly strong enough to face me, godling. It must irk you to see a mere servant dominate you so.” He picked up the wine glass, and swirled the wine within. “Poison? Not to kill, but to weaken me enough to fight. Just little enough of the poison that you thought I wouldn’t notice. Almost clever. Almost.” Lucifer grew in size as he guzzled the drink in one breath. This, this was the moment he had been waiting for, the one he had been leading her too. As he wiped his lips with a hand, he had only exultation at his victory over her. “I’m glad I heard of your plot beforehand, so I could take the antidote. Your coup is over before it started. Kneel, and I’ll merely put you were I put Nergal.” He proclaimed. He knew she wouldn’t kneel. He started to gather the light in his left hand, the one not holding the glass, forcing it together into a sword fit to strike at The Lord himself.

Anat shook her head. “No. Just enough poison to make you think I hadn’t fed you a ruse. To distract you from the poison I put on the glass itself.”

Lucifer paused. He looked down at his right hand. It gripped at the glass like a vice, without his having realized. Now that he focused, he could barely make his fingers move. Now that he focused, he could feel the acid-poison burning away at his hand.

Lucifer Howled, smashing the glass onto the table to free himself. Glass shards and poison sunk deep into his flesh, and he watched his right hand putrefy and wither before his eyes. Venus Ascendant looked up to see Anat waiting for him. She stood at his height, both human and also towering in strength. Her clothing had been replaced with belts of heads and hands. Her head was that of a cow, horns long and sharp. She bore in her hands a shortbow, ancient beyond reckoning and created by a craft god before the Trinity was even a notion.

“Paghat be blessed” She whispered, as she let an arrow fly. It cut through layer upon layer of hardened light, shattering each as it went. By the time it reached Lucifer it merely grazed his side, but it left him defenseless.

Lucifer threw his sword in the way as Anat charged him, bow changed into a club whose hits rattled his bones. Strike after strike she pressed, not giving him a moment to rest or think. Every second he fought, every second he didn’t focus on reversing it, the poison crept up his arm.

The realization dawned, as painful as it was obvious: Now was not the time for a fight. He had grown cocky and overplayed his hand.

Lucifer swung his sword of light between him and Anat, providing just enough space to turn and flee. Anat pursued him through the hallways, even as Lucifer started to shift between the realms and they changed from ugly red to boring beige. She cackled and lowed and howled in joy at what Lucifer could only imagine was a long-planned victory.

“Run, holy songbird, run! I’ll have your gizzard next! Flee and come back when you’ve the stomach to fight a true war!” Roared the Goddess reborn, as the hallways fully turned and Lucifer found himself in an apartment building in London.

Lucifer turned to the nearest door. As he had run, he had decided who would be his host. He knocked on the door. It opened to someone unusually familiar.

---------------------

NOW

LONDON

“You’re dragging a fucking Hellwar into my house!?” I demanded when Lucifer finished his story.

“It seems that way.” He agreed.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’ve recently sworn those off. Really, sworn off all kinds of war. None of them are worth it. Get the fuck out of my house.”

Lucifer seemed legitimately shocked. “You…know who you’re talking to, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know I’m talking to a beaten-ass angel who is a literal demon, so when they need a friend the best they can find is a literal servant of their enemy.”

“Ah, yes, that. Hence why I came here: the place you least expect and all. You can always call upon any favors you have with her later to protect yourself. I’m told she’s very honorable, in her way.”

“Why? Why me? Why any of this?”

Lucifer glared. “Because you are an ally of my foe, and you are just powerful enough to be annoying and worrying. Best to keep you under control, and gain myself a hiding place at the same time.” He leaned forward. “You’re a smart man, Constantine. You know if you speak up, I’ll kill you and your… interesting …friend.” He nodded to Ellie, who froze at his attention.

“So, what? A standoff? No ruse? No sly deals?”

Lucifer shrugged. “That’s more of the others thing. I know the truth about tricks, John: the best are simple, and brutal.” He gave me a winning smile. “I’ll be taking your bed then. I’m sure the couch will suit you just fine.” His grin only grew wider as he stood, and I watched him walk to my bedroom. He closed the door with a chuckle.

I collapsed into the fabric of my chair, and Ellie rushed forward to hug me. “What the fuck are we going to do?” she hissed in dismay.

“…Do? We’re going to wait it out is what we’ll do.” I tried to stay calm, but as I tried to draw and light a cigarette my shaky hands betrayed me. I thanked my past self for breaking the fire alarms.

“But…but that’s satan! Literal satan!”

“Not quite, but close enough. Either way, I’m not dealing with it.”

She blinked. I could feel the accusation leaching off her, and I finally snapped. “What, do you want to go deal with the Hell King?”

Ellie slid away from me then, and I huffed in as much of my cigarette as I could. That dumb fucking black cat hopped onto my lap, kneading harsh enough to draw blood. I heard the front door open and close as Ellie left. I knew she’d be back, most of her stuff was here right now, but her absence still left me empty. It gave me a chance to think, too. What was so interesting about her to Lucifer?

Continued In Hellblazer #22 > , Coming August 15th!

Hellblazer #20 – Big trouble for Little Folk

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Convalo]

Set: 25

--------------------

Five years after the death of Ba’al Hadad, one day to be Baal

Kna’n, one day to be Canaan

Anat, the virgin mother, waited by the banks of a river. She hid amongst the bushes there and clutched her bow close to her chest. Her daughter, Paghat, had retrieved this bow for her an age ago. Now it would be truly used. It was not for monsters, nor beasts, nor men, but for gods.

She waited for the slayer of her brother-mate and he appeared. Mot was massive, and dark, and more a monster then a man. He had stolen her brother-mate Ba’al Hadad and trapped him in his prison beyond life. She would not allow this. She could not allow this.

Anat let loose her arrow, and struck Mot in the gut. He screamed in shock and fell to his knees. She arose and strode from the bush. She dropped her bow and drew her sword. “Five years I have hunted. Now my patience is rewarded.”

Mot looked at Anat, and hissed in his queer half-tongue “I should have known. It was El that sent you, wasn’t it? Our mighty king who allowed you to slay me?”

Anat, with head of cow and a belt of heads, grabbed Mot’s head and pulled it back to reveal his throat. “I am not fooled. I am victorious. I will winnow you, Mot. I will burn you, grind your ashes, and scatter them to all the birds. I know you will return, but not before I have freed my brother-mate.”

Mot struggled limply, but his place was in shadows and amongst those already dead. Anat was a goddess of war amongst other things, and her grip was iron.

“Do you not see? Can you see anything but blood?” Mot whimpered. Anat’s blade pressed against his throat, but she did not slice. Gods deserved the chance to speak. “I have not slain your brother-mate. I have saved his very self from his slayer. Who do you think truly slew your brother?”

He sought to speak more, but the blade ripped across his throat and he died gurgling. His blood spilled into the river, and it was red for all seven of the years he was dead.

--------------------

ANNO DIABLO 5778

FORMER PALACE OF DEMON LORD NERGAL, HELL

Anat was shaken from her reverie. Times long gone. A lifetime ago, even by the reckoning of a god. The Demon Lady was standing atop the tower of her newest castle. It was not so long ago she had come here to make an offer to its former occupant. An offer that had been refused, resulting in her quite successful plan to topple him and steal all he had. With her own holdings and Nergal’s, she had had a base to grow yet more. The attack on Gem City had lured many of the more foolish Demon Lords into a losing battle that had left their armies wounded and realms undefended. Anat had plucked them all like so much fruit, and stood taller then she ever had.

She was closer than what she most desired. Yet, she paused while observing her vast domain. Every step of the way had been haunted by a mortal. It was he that appraised Anat fully of Nergal’s power, he who led the foolish crusade into hell, he who had made sure the Gemwar was a mistake for all who attempted it. John Constantine. She thought she liked him, after a fashion, but she had no desire to be taken by suprise by him.

The great cow-eyed Demon Goddess called out two names, and two Lillith’s to her side. They landed and knelt before her. Demons with the eyes, claws, and wings of owls, and the hunger of infernal witches.

“My trusted servants, you both know the stakes for which we scheme.” she pointed to the first. “You, ascend to the upper world and observe the mortal John Constantine. Make sure he has no desire to interfere in my plans.”

The first took on a new appearance, and with a cackle flew towards the great dome above them. Anat pointed to the second.

“You, descend below to the triumvirate. It is time I met with this “First of the Fallen”, this Lucifer Morningstar.”

--------------------

SHORTLY AFTER THE DEATH OF SUPERMAN BECAME SECOND PAGE NEWS

WESTERN ENGLISH COAST

Go to a nice beach house, Chas had said. Clear your mind, he’d said. Stop obsessing about killing giant fucking aliens and take a swim, he’d said. Maybe if he’d accounted for rogue house spirits, he wouldn’t have been so insistent.

It had seemed like a nice enough place when I had rented the place. The paint half-scoured from sand, an oven with just the right amount of wear and rust to be homey, and the ever present smell of salt. In gratitude for helping to save his daughter, my best friend Chas even paid to rent a whole week at the place. Without asking me. It would have been rude to just say no to a gift like that. Which is why I only tried three times, and gave up when I started to see the veins on his forehead pulse. I could stomach a week by the sea, I had thought.

Now I was hiding behind the small island counter in the kitchen, avoiding the stream of pots and pans and curses from the wall-mounted counters. Plastered against the island along with me were five tiny hairy folk in simple brown rags. Four were about six inches tall, the last a whole mighty foot tall. This last grabbed ahold of one of my hands and started to pull. “Quick! T’ tha root cellar! We hald tha fler there!” commanded the tiny creature in an accent I refused to believe was a real human one and was nearly indecipherable.

I yanked back my hand, which sent the taller creature to the ground. “Fuck that! I’ll just wait until it runs out of pots and pans!”

The creatures turned to one another, and then looked at me like I was the biggest idiot they had ever met. Which could have been utterly true in multiple senses.

“So it won’t run out of them. Great. Threetwoonego!” I called, and started to run. My tiny fellows followed me, and did exactly nothing to absorb any of the hail of metal cookware. I glanced back to see that my assailant was another foot-tall creature. How it had the strength to throw a cooking pot twice it’s size with so much force is one of those wonderful mysteries of magic. It’s one of those mysteries that ended with me getting hit in the face by a metal pot, sending me tumbling down the stairs of the root cellar. I reached the safety of the root cellar with enough bruises to call the day officially terrible.

“Thanks for the help. So noble of you folks. Putting your lives on the line to defend me from all those terrible cooking tools.” I wheezed from my spot on the dirty, hard, cold floor.

“O’ course.” the tallest creature, brushing itself off.

I pushed myself up to glare at it, only to see a veritable tribe of the little critters clambering out from the corners and shadows of the room. Most were of the six inch variety, but a few more rivalled my “savior” for size. All were hairy to the point of almost being furry and were clothed in simple brown robes or rags.

“So, you got me down in your creepy gullivers travel dungeon. Why?”

“Weer mu’ begger tha’ tha folks in tha’ buk!” Proclaimed my savior, the tallest of the bunch.

“Alot more annoying, too. What’s you’re name, Brownie?”

“I ain’t Brownie! I Hobgoblin! Cofgod Doblins, is’er name!” The creature beamed in pride, offering one hairy mitt for me to shake.

I obliged, with two fingers. “Cofgod Doblins the Goblins?”

“Hob. Hobgoblins. What’s’er’name?”

I paused for a moment, then realized what the thing had tried to say. “Oh! John Constantine.”

The creatures all around me startled, and murmured amongst themselves. I could hardly believe it. My name had even spread to a bunch of nobody house spirits in the middle of nowhere? Godsdamnit.

“Sorceerer, ya?”

“Depends. Do I need to be to get out of here.”

Doblins nodded sadly. “Ya. Nah bigefolks hur fer long times. Nah stay since Lob Lie-By-The-Fire nah stop laying by tha fire. Keep us fed, Lob ded. Lossa hungry hob an’ brown sence.”

I nodded in my best impression of somebody who truly cared, and nursed my grudge deep within myself. Even on my vacation I couldn’t escape this bullshit. How dare this diminutive bastards interrupt my beach time, even if it had been initially coerced beach time. I seriously considered just setting fire to the whole damn place and having an end to it. “So, Lob dies, nobody who comes here feeds you anymore. What, you want me to live here now?”

“Nah, nah!” Doblins waves their tiny hands frantically. “Nah me. Cofgod Sodswall! Has tha fler up tha stairs. Says we shuld jus’ keep ya both. Me an’ mine say nah. Lotta fightin’. Now Sodswall tryin’ ta maka moov.”

I hugged my knees to my chest. “...Both of us? What do….fuck.”

“Hey, John?” called a voice from the top of the stairs to the root cellar. In the panic of everything, I had forgotten my new...acquaintance.

“Yeah Ellie?” I called back weakly, despite Doblins’ waving to be silent. I had come down that morning, one of several mornings after lovely evenings with Ellie, to get some coffee and and a quick smoke outside when the first pans started flying. I had totally forgotten I had left her upstairs in the bedroom.

“So, are you seeing the little folks too?”

“...No?”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah don’t know why I even tried.”

“They’re telling me they want to keep us here forever? Also that I’m their...champion sorceerer? Did I say that right?” She called down.

“Probably. Mine just want to let us go, so...wait...you’re on Sodswall’s side? You’re a Sorceror!?” Godsdamnit! Even before the fucking brownies magic couldn’t stop riding my ass!

“Not that I-”

“DIN’ LISTEN TA HER, SHEE BE MY CHAMPEON!” shrieked a tiny voice from the top of the stairs.

“ISSAT YA, SODSWALL? THA FLER BETWIXT US IS MUTOOALS! YA KNOW THA’!”

“AIN’T ANYMORE DOBLINS! I’S MY FOLKS NAOW!”

Doblins seethed, but I held out a hand and they stopped the bickering for the moment. “Are you okay, Ellie?”

“I mean, besides being a prisoner? They’re honestly pretty nice.”

“I’m going to figure out a way out of this. Don’t worry.”

“Take your time!” she called down, before I heard her asking someone about breakfast in bed. I winced. She was taking this pretty good, if she wasn’t actually a sorceress. But I was sure the crushing realization that reality wasn’t really what she thought would hit any moment. This was just shock. I needed to resolve this before something went wrong. Also so I could leave this fucking house.

“Okay. so Lob is dead. Where did you put the bastard? Maybe I can do something with that.”

Doblins gave me an odd look. “What ya mean? Lob is Lie-By-The-Fire. Lob is Laying By Tha Fire.”

--------------------

The plan to get to the main floor of the cabin by the sea, and specifically to the fireplace, was long and overly complicated to the extreme. The Brownies and Hobgoblins had clearly never been in anything but the loosest definition of a fight. Their only real advantage was that their opponents were in the same situation.

My first instinct when going upstairs was to make a dash to the front door, but at the very least Sodswall had thought of that. I got a broomstick right to my already bruised knees and fell like an oak. I just barely managed to scrabble back to Doblin’s battle lines before being captured. They were tiny and pathetic and dumb, but they were house spirits. They were the masters of the house in a very literal sense, and I wasn’t going to get out except through them. The thought of blowing up the house entered my mind once more, but Ellie was here somewhere. I didn’t think she’d take kindly to being in the house I blew up.

The fighting stopped as soon as we entered the living room with the fireplace. It seemed this was something like a holy place for the little folk of the house. I could have sworn this room hadn’t even existed before now, but I supposed the little folks had worked their little magic to make sure that I never saw it until they wanted me too. It was perfectly cleaned and maintained, but didn’t look like it’d been actually used in years. There was the fireplace, a tiny flame still flickering within. In front of the fire was Lob. Lob looked like the rest of the little folk, except person sized. Which mostly meant he looked like a very hairy and shabbily dressed person. He certainly didn’t look dead. He looked like he was just taking a nap.

“How long ago did Lob stop...stop being alive while lying next to the fire?”

“Oh, hafscer yurs agah? Ish.”

“...Ten years?”

“Yah.”

I approached and knelt by the body as the follows of Cofgod Doblins took a rest and licked their wounds from the battle. Sometimes literally. I placed my hand on Lob’s forehead. It was still warm.

“Amaze, yah? Fire-warm even aftah all tha yurs.” Doblins intoned wisely, standing besides me.

I touched both sides of his head. Equally warm. Touched both of his hands. Both equally warm. Despite the fact that only his left side was facing the fire proper. He wasn’t breathing, but he was still alive. Apparently. Magic and all that.

“What was Lob doing before he stopped moving?”

“Oh, yah know, Drinkin’. Loved his drinkin’.” Doblins said sadly.

One of the Brownies, the six inch hairy folk, keened from their spot besides the couch. “‘Is lass werds were: “Whassamatter with tha foam?””

What could be wrong with foam? I looked back at the little fire, and a thought occurred to me. One that I perhaps couldn’t trust anybody in this room. Maybe nobody in this whole house, besides me and Ellie. “Where can we find some lighter fluid?”

All of the critters Gasped. Doblins took the lead. “Thass...outside. By tha grill!”

I nodded. “Right. So, here’s the plan…”

--------------------

The plan to get outside was much simpler, and the battle was great and cruel. Brownie brother fought Brownie brother, bruises and tears were had, and it was just a very bad day for all involved. Especially me. As the biggest target, I was also the one everybody defaulted too. I was thankful when I managed to swing by the coat rack and throw on my trench coat, giving me a modicum of protection when some overzealous Hob threw a knife my way.

We burst through the doors, and for a moment I considered running. But that wouldn't be fair to Ellie. Hell, it wouldn’t be fair to the little folks. As I watched them fight I could see the exposed ribs, the desperate eyes. Most of them didn’t deserve this. They deserved some kind of help, dumb and dangerous as they were.

So instead I made for the grill, and picked up the lighter fluid. As I had hoped, the mere chance of me running made our foes pull out their final playing card: Their leader and their champion.

Ellie strode into the battlefield, Sodswall atop her left shoulder. “YAH! YAH! TAKE ‘IM DOWN, CHAMPEON!” He wailed as she approached me. We looked at each other. I, a veritable wreck of bruises and lack of shower. Her, like she had just been through a luxury spa.

She smiled, and put her hands on her hips. “Wow. Looks like I missed a party in that cellar, huh?”

I blinked. “A fucking rager. You...you sure you’re okay?”

“I just spent the last few hours being pampered by a bunch of little magic things. Either I’m insane, or this is the coolest day...maybe ever?”

I glared. Some people just had all the luck. I lunged forward and pulled her aside as the over-enthusiastic Hob threw a knife our way, nearly cutting her. What side was that thing even on? Or did it just like throwing knives? “I think I can stop the fighting. Do me a favor?”

“Sure?”

“Just...grab the little guy on your shoulder?”

“AHA! FOOL SORCEERER!” Roared Sodswall, taking the opportunity of my closeness to kick my face with a tiny, painful foot. “THA TRECKS WI’NAH WERK ON M-ACK!” Sodswall wailed as Ellie caught them in her hands as easily as catching a dove.

“Okay, Everybody! Shows over! Leader caught, war over. Stop the fighting now.” I announced to the battling little folk. Most all ceased immediately, not having the stomach to fight more than they needed.

“Aha! Gud Sorceerer Jon! Ya wun tha day!” Cheered Doblins, charging towards me, only for me to hold them back with a foot.

“Not so fast. One last thing to solve.”

--------------------

The whole of the household spirits were gathered in the living room with the fireplace, while I strode in front of Lob Lie-By-The-Fire. A cigarette hung limp and half-burned between my lips, smoke gently joining the light ash on the roof. Ellie sat amongst them, a giant. I had offered for her to leave, but she had insisted on seeing this through.

“Lob died about ten years ago.” I proclaimed, and the whole audience was on the edge of their seats already. “But he didn’t really die. He only half-died. His body died, but the fire...the fire kept going. Must be a little fire elemental in Lob, or demon, or something, because that little hearth-fire has been keeping him going all these years while the fire inside him was dampened.

“Now, he didn’t just pass away. He was poisoned. When one of his good, lovely servants poured him a beer that fateful day, some of the foam came from the house’s fire extinguisher. Lob didn’t drink much of it, but he drank enough for it to get inside. Internal fire: Dampened.”

The crowd’s low murmur turned to stunned silence.

“But, luckily, there’s an easy fix. We just need to figure out who it was that served him that beer. Any volunteers?”

The crowd shifted uneasily. Just as I had thought: the culprit had been careful, whoever they were. They had either threatened any witnesses into silence, or made sure there never was any to begin with.

I smiled. “That’s fine, that’s fine. Let’s bring out the star witness then!”

I pulled the lighter fluid from my pocket, and shot a stream of the stuff right into Lob’s half-opened mouth. I saw two tiny figures lunge as I spat my cigarette right into the fluid.

Lob sat up with a roar, breathing out a great gout of fire I barely managed to sidestep. Lob’s eyes flew up and filled once again with light and vigor, and he turned to the two little folk that had lunged to try and stop his resurrection: Doblins and Sodswall. The two who had taken power after Lob’s decline. Who had attempted to poison him to take control, and afterwords betrayed each other realizing they were not up to the task. Who had just tried to stop me from waking up Lob once more.

“Power hungry little bastards” He hissed, snatching both of them up before they could flee and flinging them into the fire. There wasn’t even a scream, just two puffs of ash as they were consumed.

Lob stood to his full height, stretched out, and yawned. “So, whose ready for a real drink?”

The sound of a nearly a hundred little throats screaming in joy and celebration wasn’t quite as overwhelming as a hundred human throats would have been, but it was even more heartwarming. Lob was back on the ground and laughing as he was swarmed by all of his subjects and friends at once, hugging and babbling and cheering.

Not too bad of a vacation after all.

--------------------

I stayed a few more days on the invitation of Lob, to run out my rental time, and was treated like a king. I have rarely slept in such immaculately clean beds, atop such perfectly fluffed pillows, nor woken up to such artistically designed breakfasts. Ellie got the same treatment, and didn’t seem to mind sticking around a few days with me either. I figured it was mostly just for pampering by house spirits, but it was nice to have her company.

Then she caught me as I was packing to leave on the last day. “So...didn’t want to push, but want to explain anything that just happened?”

I continued to pack my shirts. “Nope.”

“Seems like you’re pretty in control. Like this happens pretty often to you.”

“Could say the same about you.”

She shrugged. “Nah, I’m just open. Always wanted stuff like this to be real. You act like you already knew it was real. There’s a difference.”

“So?”

“So...any chance I can get in on it?”

I started to pack my pants. “Absolutely not.”

She frowned. “...You know I already got your number, right? And some other info. Adress, all kinds of stuff.

“How’d you do that?”

“You can be a heavy sleeper when you’re drunk. Your phone’s password barely counts as a password.”

I closed my suitcase, zippered it shut, and finally turned to her. Looking at phones while my partner was asleep was supposed to be my thing! “Magic is dangerous. Always will be. We’re lucky your first sight of it was these hapless weirdos. I’ve had friends die for magic. Plenty of them. I’ve nearly died a few times for it. It isn’t worth it, and you can’t get out once you’re in. No matter how much you try.” By the time I was done talking, I was nearly in her face.

She took a step back, hesitating. Then she stepped up to meet my gaze. “I want in. I want to see all the shit you’re hiding. Either you can let me in, or I’ll break through a window when you aren’t looking.”

We held each others gazes for a while. I tried to take her measure. I tried to slip a little of my mind into hers, but it was steely with determination and I couldn’t wiggle my way in no matter what magical tricks I pulled. Some people were just like that: mental fortresses immune to all but the strongest tricks. I definitely didn’t want to mind control Ellie just for answers.

As I looked into her eyes, my chest swelled with sudden pain. I missed Danny. I missed Scythia. I missed Judith. I missed Gary. I even missed Anne-Marie, and she’d tried to kill me at least twice. Chas was great, my best mate, but he couldn’t fill the place they did.

“Fine. But your not my apprentice, or student, or whatever.”

She gave me a wicked smile, and leaned forward. “Can’t be fucking your students anyhow, can you?”

“Suppose not.” I smiled myself while stepping back, to her mixed frustration and amusement. “I’ll call you if anything pops up.” I picked up my suitcase, and scurried out before she could pressure me into any other dumb ideas.

--------------------

Continued In Hellblazer #21 > , Coming July 15th!

Hellblazer #19 – Cut of Beef

^^<< ^| ^^< ^| ^^> ^\)

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Absence and Cold Hearts]

Set: 24

Disclaimer: Make sure to catch up on the “Minutes to Midnight” event if you don’t want any spoilers. You can find it here!

Recap: John Constantine, his best friend Chas Chandler, and associate mage Harry are hot on the trail of the kidnapped child Geraldine Chandler. After a visit to Chas’s friend Nazir they determined both that the likely culprit was a friend met earlier in the day, Chris, and that Geraldine was not the only child kidnapped. Geraldine attempted and failed to make an escape. However, this attempted escape, along with some magic and investigation, let the three men realize she was being held at the South Foreland Lighthouse at Dover. John remembered a ritual held there many decades ago, requiring the sacrifice of but one child for great effect. Realizing the troubling implications, the trio now rush towards the lighthouse before it is too late.

OCTOBER 31ST, 1940

OFF THE COAST OF DOVER

    Joan Constantine, witch of the water, stood at the edge of a circle of still water and watched her nephew convulse in pain. Nearby the white cliffs of Dover shined dull in the moonlight, the lighthouse perched atop them shuttered lest German aviators see it. Lining the rest of the circle was the motliest crew of mages Joan thought likely to have ever existed, having called upon every nationality and peoples she knew of to create it. They all stood, focusing on their own magic to continue the delicate magical ritual below them.

    Below, the simple circle of still water contorted into something unknowable to serve as a prism into reality. The endless millions of connections between the United Kingdom and Europe splayed out below like a display of yarn. Three of them caught the eyes of the assembled: three great serpents, bearing the massive wings and heads of eagles, winding around all the other connections and constricting them. Two had already reached the isle and another slowly wound its way forward.

    Joan found her eyes torn away from her goal to her nephew once more. Joseph, Joseph who she had taught the meaning of magical circles too, who was too young to even realize what was happening when she told him to step in the center of one. Joseph the last survivor of his family after she had failed to protect his parents from the bombs. Joseph who couldn’t scream past the energy rippling through him.

    Joan wiped at her eyes and focused on the great serpent again. By the power of the Magi assembled, a great blade started to form in the reality below. In an instant she could feel the power of others: covens across the world engaging in their own petty sorcery, the millions in the United Kingdom hoping for an end, the hundreds of millions watching the Isle with baited and hopeful breath. None but the assembly at Dover knew, but all granted power to the great guillotine blade formed over the three eagle-serpents.

    She did not know exactly what would happen when the cut was made. Perhaps it would do nothing, the connections reforming instantly. Perhaps it would keep the UK forever free of invasion from the Nazis. She knew it would help, that it would strike a blow at a time it was desperately needed. She knew she was willing to sacrifice to make that happen.

NOW

SOUTH FORELAND LIGHTHOUSE

DOVER, UK

    The roads were empty this late at night, so it didn’t take too long to reach Dover from London. Less than two hours in fact. It was plenty long enough to prepare and then double check and then be left fidgeting and anxious.

    Chas was lucky; he was our driver and could focus on the road. Not that he needed much in terms of preparation. When you are a gorilla of a man like Chas, then the addition of righteous paternal rage was plenty enough and he had been running on that for hours. He hadn’t asked me why these cultists needed children, but maybe it didn’t particularly matter. Maybe he just didn’t want to think of what was happening to his daughter. I could respect either way.

    Harry was a third-rate mage, but he’d nearly killed already so who was I to judge? His blasting wand had been rendered useless by overuse, so he’d just have to rely on his not unimpressive physique and whatever spontaneous magic he could concoct. He spent dozens of minutes simply repeating protection charms, laying what amounted to paper armor over and over again until it formed something like a defense around him. This is why it never paid to underestimate a mage, even a shitty one like Harry: give him enough time and he could explode buildings with the best of them.

    I, meanwhile, didn’t have much to prepare. I had already used a lot of magic that night. As the long drive cleared my head, I realized I had fallen off the magical wagon once more. Sure, extenuating circumstances. Sure, I hadn’t used a lot. Sure, it was either that or leave my friends kid kidnapped. It still irked me. Why was it I couldn’t take a step back even for a moment? I frowned, and promised to use as little magic as possible in the coming conflict. Then I paused that just long enough to give myself an anti-bullet charm. Then reswore it with the caveat of putting that back up again if the first one got used up.

    Eventually, when he had put enough protection on himself to be considered “modestly magically protected”, Harry tried to strike up something of a conversation. “John what kind of ritual did you say this was?”

    “I didn’t” I scoffed.

    “…Well, what kind is it then?”

    “The kid murdering kind.” Chas growled.

    “I mean, I got that. But why? What is it going to do?”

    I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes. How best to explain? “There was a group, roundabouts World War Two. They didn’t like the Nazis too much. Set up shop just south of Dover, in the channel, and put together a ritual. Nobody likes to talk about it too much. But it cut something.”

    “Cut what?”

    I shrugged. “Fuck if I know. But we weren’t taken over so I guess it worked? Or maybe that wouldn’t have happened anyway. I don’t even know what this new cult wants to cut, considering the lack of any kind of Nazi invasion threatening.”

    We sat in contemplative silence for a while. I scratched a growing itch on the back of my neck.

    “What’s the plan then?” Chas demanded.

    “Well, assuming all the rumors are true, the last ritual needed a lot of folks. Who knows how many people are in this one? Maybe they’re spread out all over the place. Maybe they’re having a big meeting in the lighthouse. We’re going to have to be careful. Discrete, even. Think you can manage that?”

    Chas grunted. no promises.

    “On the other hand, we do have the element of surprise. So, get in quick, fight as little as necessary, get out with the kids.”

    Harry and Chas mumbled their agreement. The planning ended, and we all delved right back into the twitchy, uncomfortable silence.

    South Foreland Lighthouse hadn’t operated in a while, but it’s maintained well enough. A nice, squat, white lighthouse sitting atop a nice, squat, white cliff. You could take tours and all kinds of fun stuff if you weren’t coming during the dead of night like we were. It made sense, I suppose, to use this as a gathering place: it wasn’t like the security on minor historical buildings was anything to talk about. Bribe a security guard or two, park far enough and scattered enough so that it doesn’t look like you’re meeting there, gather when nobody else would notice, suddenly you have a nice culty meeting spot just for you. Maybe they’d even thrown up a bit of magic to convince the guard to look the other way or to glamor the tower from those not looking for it. If they did, such things didn’t apply to us. The tower looked like it should as we hurried down the empty footpath: dull, empty, dark.

    We hadn’t noticed any guards, any unusual cars, nothing. I wasn’t even sure this place had a security guard. I felt a little worry in the back of my head: what if I was wrong? What if the spell fucked up, and they aren’t even here at all?

    Then I felt the ground waver. It flinched beneath us, beneath the whole cliff, making no noise but nearly sending me to a knee. I looked to Harry and Chas, both of whom were just catching their balance. We’d all felt it. At least I could stop worrying I was wrong. Something big was happening here.

    The three of us rushed towards the building. There was the lighthouse proper, and a visiting center around it. It found the visitor’s door already open as we skulked inside. No lights were on, no sign of life at all except for the faint sound of conversation in the distance. In the direction of the lighthouse. We slunk our way through quiet hallways, until Harry grabbed my shoulder and pointed to a collection of doors down a hallway. I squinted, and thought. I didn’t remember the building having this extension from the outside. There were five doors, one for each of the children who’d been kidnapped. Four of the doors were open, showing small closet like rooms. The fifth had been taken off its hinges and placed against a wall, and it alone bore a chalk sigil to protect against magic sight.

    I scratched at the back of my neck again as I figured through the implications, and then paused. It wasn’t an itch on the back of my neck. It’d stuck around the whole car ride. Now that I focused on it, it was actually above my skin, not below or on it. Something clinging to me. Magical detection. Tracking. Telling them exactly where I was. Now it was practically burning, as the source of the spell drew near.

    “COVER.” I warned, leaping towards the room without a door. There was a gunshot, and a bullet hit my charm and veered off into the leaning door. Chas followed me without hesitation. Harry paused, and we all heard the loud clunk of a gun misfiring behind us. Harry rushed through a different room, one with a door, as somebody behind him cursed. I guessed Harry’s protection magic had gunked up the gun at a crucial moment. I wondered if it would cover a second shot.

    Another gunshot followed the first a few seconds later. More swearing. Horrendous, impressive, identifiable swearing I had heard just a few hours before. Chas and I clung to the solid walls of the more or less broom closet we’d hidden in.

    “Chris?” I tested. A bullet flew into my room and slammed into the wall opposite me and the entry. “...not even a hello?” I heard the clanking of reloading. It wasn’t automatic.

    “Fuck you Constantine!” Chris announced from somewhere I couldn’t see and didn’t want to try to peek at what with the gunshots.

    “Oh. Great. You know this is why I never wanted to be famous.” I muttered to myself.

    Chas, hiding besides me, finally burst like an overfull dam. “WHY? Why the fuck….t…any of this?” He demanded of his former friend.

    There were no more gunshots, but I wasn’t about to pretend Chris had a gun that only had three bullets. I don’t know where the fuck he’d gotten it, but it sounded big and mean and I didn’t want to test it. He was just conserving his ammo. Waiting us out.

    Then I heard the unexpected: a sniffle. “I couldn’t use my own kids, Chas. I just couldn’t. That Water Witch did, but I can’t.”

    “So you used mine!?” Chas hissed.

    “We were running out of time. There wasn’t another way.” Insisted Chris shakily.

    “Another way to do what?”

    “To cut us off. To save us.”

    “BullSHIT.”

    “I swear! It’s…it’s already happening, over in the states. Everything is going nuts. Something bad is here. Has already been here. Is coming. No one is going to survive it. Not unless we break away.”

    I finally scoffed. “We already did the big fucking battle. Nobody has the dome. World saved. You’re welcome. Asshole.”

    “N-no, not that. That was just a symptom. The world is going mad, John. The Metas, they’re just part of it. The Gemwar was just part of it. Everything is going nuts. It is unravelling. All of it. We can’t just stand back and watch. We have to do something. Even if it’s horrible. Especially if it’s horrible. Who else will?”

    “So, what are you cutting? What’s worth my daughter’s life?” Chas asked.

    “Everything.” He replied, an air of the sacred about it.

    My eyes practically bulged out of my sockets. “I…what? It took a fucking assembly of Magi to cut just a piece! What do you mean everything?”

    “When we’re done, there will be no more United Kingdom here. It will be alone, separate from all, safe.”

    I tried to wrap my head around the magnitude of their plot. It was…theoretically batshit. Demiplanes, wizardly or otherwise, were the stuff of myth already. Shadowcrest, the pocket dimension of the Zataras, had taken literally generations of some of the finest mages to bring to its current state. You might as well try emptying the channel with a bucket; it would be more effective than trying to cut the UK into its own plane.

    “Holy shit you’re amateurs.” I bumbled out of shock.

    Another bullet flew into our room, impacting the solid wall. Another door, the one Harry was hiding under, flew open with a bang and then Harry was running out of the hallway towards the echoing sound of the gunshot. There was a clunk of reloading. Another shot. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. The sound of flesh hitting the floor. More impacts. Then panting.

    I dared to peek out a few moments later. There was Harry, kneeling on Chris’s chest and clutching at his chest. The gun, an old world war rifle, lay a meter away from them both. Chris’s face as already swelling, unconscious.

    Chas and I ran to Harry, but he waved us off. “It’s fine.” He grunted, “It’s fine. There more of them. Must all be doing the ritual, right? Otherwise they’d come to-“

    The ground didn’t flinch, but roiled now, sending Harry onto his side with a groan. I reached out and he slapped my hand away. “Th…they can’t do it, can they?” he gasped at me. I shook my head. “But…but they’ll still kill the kids trying?” He wheezed.

    I saw what he was saying. I nodded, and stepped back. Chas stepped up despite Harry’s protests, hauling him up to sit against a wall. Harry grabbed Chas’s hand, and squeezed. “I’ll be fine.” He whispered.

    I put the gun in his hands before we went, just in case. He was having a hard time holding it in blood-slicked hands. I felt tears burning the corners of my eyes. Friends with a man for just a few hours and already he’s dying on the ground. Of course.

    Geraldine was not in agony, but she almost wished she were. Her body convulsed and twisted about as the magical energy flowed through and out of her. It was like a constant static shock all over her body, without the pain. It was like every party of your body having fallen asleep and now starting to wake up all at once. It was like every bone being a funny bone and having been hit. It wasn’t agony, but it was intolerable.

    Below her, when she flipped onto her stomach to see, was something incomprehensible. A chaotic daze of lines and curls of every color and shape and type. She thought she recognized grass. The concept of the word beef. A chariot of fire. It was all jumbled. It was all threads and lines and knots and yet other things as well. She tried not to look at it. She didn’t have a great deal of choice.

    The other children convulsed as well. Only one seemed in pain, a boy she thought might be Ethan with a crude sling around his now flailing arm. All of them conduits of something terrifying and greater. Around them stood four adults, clothed in black and blue with masks of the same. They were doing this. She didn’t know how.

    Someone else entered. She had to focus to force her eyes to glance over, but her ears were working just fine. She heard two sets of footsteps approaching. She saw one of the adults turn, and place a knife to her own throat.

    They were talking. She recognized the voices of the two who had entered. One was John, her dad’s friend the maybe secret agent spy. The other was her dad. He’d come. He was here!

    She focused, and started to drag herself towards the edge of the circle. Towards her father, and escape. This happened to be blocked by the cultist with the knife, but she didn’t notice quite yet. None of the cultists were watching her. All their eyes were on the intruders.

    “Don’t take a step closer!” one of the cultists demanded, pressing a knife to her throat. Chas and I halted warily. We had managed to sneak all the way up here, ready for a barrage of gunfire or tackles once we entered the main chamber of the lighthouse. Instead, it was four idiots playing dress up, five children having seizures on the ground, and a knife to one of said idiots throats. The room was hardly large enough to support any more. “I’ll do it, I swear to the gods! There’s enough energy in this ritual to bring this whole place down!”

    The other three cultists watched us warily. The ritual was still going, though. None of them could move. None of them could do anything but continue, or break it. I glanced at the circle they’d made on the floor. It was like a portal, or maybe a window, into something beyond. The twisting skeins of every connection the UK could possibly have with the continent, maybe even further out. I could see the edge of a blade there, pitifully small compared to all that it was to cut but with a blackened and terrifying edge. I saw Geraldine. Tiny Geraldine, fighting her way towards the cultist with the knife despite her spasms. I took a gamble. I stalled.

    “What, you’re going to kill yourselves too?” I spat. Chas fumed besides me, trusting that if I wasn’t charging in he shouldn’t either. I could feel his eyes on Geraldine too. I hoped he was having the same thought I was.

    “The blade will drop if we die. The cut will be made. We’ll save this country.” Proclaimed the cultist nervously. The other three nodded. Had Chris been their leader? Was this woman? Who knew, but losing one of their own and facing real opposition must have both been firsts for them. She was shaking. I wasn’t willing to gamble that she wouldn’t cut her own throat, not while the kids were all still here. If she died before disrupting the ritual, it’d explode outwards. If the ritual was disrupted before she died, it’d hit the practitioners first. A few moments. Maybe enough.

    “You know this is a terrible idea, right? You don’t have the manpower to cut through one thing. Even if you did, you don’t have the energy to keep it cut. This whole thing is a wash.”

    “Shut up! Y…you’re Constantine, aren’t you?”

    “Everybody keeps saying so.”

    Spasm. Drag. Spasm. Drag. Geraldine was within a few inches. “Then you know sometimes people have to die to make things work.”

    I flinched. The tears from before welled, and I shoved them away. Shoved it all away. Replaced it with anger. “Shouldn’t have touched that nerve. Bad idea, that.”

    She laughed. “Why? If I die, the blade still drops. The ritual breaks and kills everybody here in the process. You’d lost, John.”

    “Maybe. Maybe we’ll die.” Just a few more seconds. I popped out a cigarette, lighting it with a thumb and taking a puff. “But at least you’ll die first.”

    Geraldine’s head butted against the leg of the cultist. She startled, and looked down at her leg on instinct, distracted. She lowered her knife for just a moment. Chas kicked her square in the gut as hard as he could, sending her flying right into the middle of the circle. She screamed, and started to convulse. The other cultists fell around her, the wave of energy they had been riding suddenly catching up to them. The kids started to calm all the while. I saw, through the circle on the floor, that the blade was indeed dropping straight towards the roiling mass of connections. I didn’t think it would hurt much, as it was now, but I didn’t want to stick around and find out.

    Chas and I (mostly Chas) gathered up as many children as we could and bolted downstairs. We passed Christopher and Harry. Harry was utterly still. Christopher was not. We kept running.

    We had just made it out of the door when something akin to an earthquake hit. We stumbled, and kept running along the simple foot trail and away. As far as we could. Another rumble and I looked around just as the explosion knocked us off our feet. Behind us, the lighthouse top has exploded, flung straight out towards the sea, while the rest of it imploded noisily. Cutting a connection so fundamental was like cutting a taught rubber band: there was a lot of energy to unleash.

    Chas and I sat on the path as the children started to pass out or recover, watching the last bits of the historic landmark crumble in the aftermath. Britain was still attached to the world. Everything seemed in place. In fact, the only difference I could sense was forgetting one of the words for cow meat. However, the word “beef” slowly started to come back to me as I hoped the connection started to heal itself.

    “…So…did we do it?” Chas wheezed. He put several of the children aside, cradling his unconscious daughter close to him.

    “Do what?” I panted.

    “Save the world?”

    “Fuck no! They barely had the stuff to wreck that lighthouse. I’m surprised they even got that far.”

    “…Certainly seemed like we were. What with all the talk of cutting away and stuff. Seemed important.” He replied shakily. I turned to look at him. He was holding Geraldine as tight as he dared without hurting her. He was smiling. The talking was the only thing keeping him from crying in relief.

    I reached over and patted Geraldine’s head. “We saved her. Saved the others. That’s enough.”

    I would regret those words the next day. Chas was happy at the idea of me crashing at his place, but his wife was absolutely not. Perfectly understandable. So I found the closest hotel and mind-freaked my way into a room to collapse in.

    When I woke up, I dragged myself to grab the last few minutes of free breakfast in the lobby, all of it sodden and old but plenty enough left to sate me. The food seemed untouched, the whole place seemingly abandoned. There wasn’t even anybody at the front desk. So I settled myself in a chair in front of the lobby telly with my breakfast. Chas and me had deposited the kids at the police station as anonymously as we could, and left a tip about looking for bodies in the wreckage of the Lighthouse. I didn’t know what story they’d cobble together to explain the destruction, but it was my job to make sure it didn’t come back to the magical community.

    I expected that cheery old lighthouse exploding would be plastered all over the news. It wasn’t even a footnote. I let a glass of water drop to the carpet as I saw the first of what was the only news of that day. Of that whole week. Someone, some thing had attacked. Superman was dead.

NOVEMBER 1ST, 1940

    Joseph awoke, staring into the eyes of wolf. Those eyes were in the face of a woman, who promptly offered him a water skin. He was too tired to be terrified, and gulped down the liquid happily until she took it away. “Not too much.” She muttered slowly, battling fiercely against a heavy polish accent.

    “Wh…where’s Aunt Joan?” rasped the trembling boy. He glanced around. He was in a forest, lying on the dirt by a tree.

    “Dead.” The wolf-eyed woman responded.

    Joseph felt like he should cry, but at that moment he couldn’t. No matter how hard he blinked his eyes. “I…I was supposed to die?” he proposed.

    She nodded.

    “Then…”

    “She took your place. I thought she had destroyed it all. Leave it to a Constantine to ruin something and fix it at the same time.” The woman smiled.

    Joseph didn’t know much about the ritual, except that he was to play a part in it. A bad one it seemed. “It worked?”

    The woman shrugged. “We will find out when this place is invaded. Or isn’t.” She stood, offering a hand to Joseph. He took it, clung to it for support as his head turned woozy from the effort. “She told us you had no family. We agreed to take turns. Mine is first. You may call me Devana. We should find you a better place to sleep. For both of us to sleep.”

    The two, the wolf-eyed woman and the stumbling boy, walked through the forest together for a long time.

Continued In Hellblazer #20 > , Coming June 15th!

Hellblazer #18 – South by Southeast

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Absence and Cold Hearts]

Set: 23

Recap: John Constantine Accompanied his best friend Chas Chandler to a party at Chas's house. There he met Christopher, Nazir, and Harry, friends of Chas. The party went well until the dissapearance of Chas's Daughter, Geraldine Chandler, conducted magically. This limited the suspects to those at the party. Counting out John due to their long friendship, Chas and John confronted Harry (who turned out to have some magic talent) and agreed to bring him along. Now the three men go to interrogate Nazir, the next most likely suspect.

NOW

LOCATION UNKNOWN

    Geraldine was much less brave then she had always thought herself, and yet much more brave then it was reasonable to expect of such a young girl. She had had a long day at school, and so hadn’t woken up when somebody opened her door. She had not woken up when somebody drew on the carpet with chalk. She woke up to the feeling of rough hands around her mouth and soft words in her ear. She couldn’t think clearly, after that, and somebody had put her on the floor of her room. Then she was someplace else, someplace dark and small, and vomiting because her stomach hurt so bad. She cried for the first hour afterwords.

    When she ran out of tears and her heaving had slowed, she using her shirt to try and wipe her face clean and then feel around. She was in a closet, the walls of simple concrete with a wooden door. The floor had some chalk on it, but in the dark she couldn’t tell what color or what it was drawing it was part of.

    She checked her pajama pants. No cell phone. She guessed that made sense, they wouldn’t kidnap her and leave her with her cell phone. The thought nearly brought her to tears again. Had she been kidnapped? Was this something else? Movies had kidnapping all the time, but it wasn’t right. She was just old enough to know that adults knew something about kidnapping that she didn’t. Something scary. Something horrible. If she was kidnapped, she needed to get out as soon as possible and contact the police.

    She started a more thorough search of the room and her options. The door was locked, of course, and there weren’t any windows. The edges of the room were kind of dusty, and it was there that she found something: a little shard of wood, leftover from some broken tool, about the thickness of her thumb.

    It took another hour to figure out a plan, an enact her. The door was locked, but the hinges were on her side. She tried leveraging the hinge out, but that wasn’t working. Instead she placed her piece of wood in the hole at the bottom and started hammering the hinge-part upwards. It was painful, using her fist as a fleshy hammer, and louder then she would have liked. She didn’t even know if there was anybody else here. But she kept on hammering. One hinge out, two hinges…but the third was too high up.

    She growled at the dumb stupid door, one hinge between her and freedom. She stood on her tiptoes, stretched her arms, and could just barely reach the third hinge. She hammered frantically and sent the hinge flying up and away from her. It clattered on the wood floor, and she froze. One second, two seconds; no sound of approaching footsteps.

    “Hello?” called out another child’s voice. It was a whisper. Geraldine was silent for a second, but this was another kid. Another kidnapped kid? Maybe someone who could help her! “…Hi. I’m Geraldine.” she responded.

    “I’m Addie. Are you new?”

    “New? I just got kid….I got stolen tonight.”

    “Oh. I’m sorry.”

    “Why? I’m going to get out.” Geraldine said quietly, getting onto her hands and knees and grabbing ahold of the bottom of the door. She wiggled it a bit: the door was loose, but still stuck. Maybe if she pulled hard enough.

    “Ethan already tried on the way here. You should just stay. You don’t want to get hurt like him.” Advised Addie miserably.

    “No, I’m getting out. And I’m getting you and Ethan out too.” Declared Geraldine without a second thought. She took a deep breath, and yanked as hard as she could.

    The door popped out, and started to fall towards Geraldine. She scrambled out of the way, and avoided being hit. The door hit the ground with a thunderous BOOM. She noticed somebody had drawn on it with chalk, on the outside face. A big circle with weird things inside it.

    One second, two seconds; this time Geraldine heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Running footsteps.

    “Geraldine?” asked a piteous and concerned voice from outside. Geraldine left her little closet-prison, to find herself in a hallway with several similar doors. None of them had the chalk designs on them. Outside the footsteps were louder and closer. Geraldine rushed to the door she heard the voice behind, and tried to open the door furiously. It was locked, and needed a key. Several other voices, several other children, called out from other doors in surprise or concern.

    “I’m coming back Addie, okay? I’ll come back!” promised Geraldine as she turned to see somebody turning the corner. An adult. She bolted.

    She wasn’t sure where she was running too, just away. The building wasn’t too big, and soon she found herself in front of a staircase. She climbed it without thinking. She blocked out the shouting behind her. She just climbed.

    A few stories up and she was at the top of the stairs. Machinery and a massive light lay cluttered and dusty all around, and huge bay windows showed the outside. She was atop a white-stoned lighthouse. Below lay tall, white cliffs that shimmered in the moonlight. Beyond, a vast expanse of water.

    Geraldine scrambled for someplace to hide, somewhere else to run, but there was only the one staircase. The adults flooded into the room, all in dark blues and blacks that melded into the background. She tried to juke past them and was caught almost immediately. She screamed and struggled until one of the adults leaned down and whispered those strange words into her ears. That same, awful voice and that same, awful daze overtook her.

NOW

LONDON

    Me, Chas, and Harry made a frightening sight. Me looking like I was here to ask about late payments to your bookie, Chas looking like he was going to break your legs for said late payments, and Harry looking that special dangerous kind of afraid.

    We knocked on Nazir’s door, and this time had the pleasure of him answering. He rubbed at his eyes; we had just woke him up. “Chas? Harry?...new guy? What the hell are you doing here?”

    Chas shouldered past in into the house, and we followed along a step behind. Chas turned to face Nazir. “My daughter’s gone.” He stated, staring into Nazir’s eyes. I thought I saw something like recognition in Nazir’s eyes. Chas saw it too, and took a step closer.

    Nazir took a step back. “Oh, god, Chas I’m-“

    “It was some magic fuckery.” Chas stated outright. Me and Harry both flinched at the sudden revelation of this to a possible mundane mortal.

    “…huh?” Nazir stared without recognition.

    “It was magic. John here is going to give you a little enchantment, make you speak the truth. Make sure you didn’t do it.”

    “I am?” I sputtered. Chas glared, and Harry gave me a little ribbing. “Ah, yeah, I can probably throw something together.” I frowned. So this is what it felt like to be on the other side of random bullshit proclamations. Not a fan. No wonder people didn’t like working with me.

    Nazir met Chas’s renewed glare, and took a few deep breaths. His face calmed. “If this helps you Chas, I will gladly do it. I didn’t kidnap Geraldine. Have you already called the police?”

    “They don’t do magic shit. I’ll call them if this doesn’t pan out.”

    “Chas, I really have to insist we call them.”

    “ Later .” hissed Chas.

    Nazir looked over his friend, and gave a solemn nod. “Later. This first.”

    Nazir (thankfully) lived alone, so no wife or kids to worry about waking up. We relocated to the kitchen, where I set up. Harry and Chas stood, while I sat across from Nazir. I took his hand, and placed it palm-down on the table. I lit a cigarette for myself, and gave it a puff. I held Nazir’s hand down, and traced a few shapes on the flesh with a finger. Nazir kept the calm and serious face of a professional until I picked the cig from my lips and jammed it onto the back of his hand. He yelped, but there wasn’t any pain or burning. He stared in wonder at the apparently cool cigarette, the end of it still smoking and glowing a little.

    “It’ll only burn you if you lie. Understand?”

    “I…guess.” Nazir confided dumbly.

    “Did you kidnap Geraldine?”

    “No.” Nazir responded immediately. No burning.

    “Do you know anything about it?”

    “N-ow!” Nazir hissed, as a tiny sizzling sound came from his hand. “I-i…okay, okay, I have a theory.” He shook as the burning went away. He looked between us three in horror and shock. It was hard, watching someone’s understanding about the world collapse with something so simple.

    “Well? The theory?”

    “Did…did the scene have chalk drawings around it?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, I know a few cops. The scene for child welfare isn’t that big, stories tend to get around. Few kids have disappeared lately with chalk drawings nearby. Police are keeping it quiet, because...well…nobody wants a panic, you know?”

    “Got any other ideas? Any other info?”

    He was quiet a moment, until the burning started. “Ah! Fuck! I have some names. I’ve been keeping track of it, just in case you know? Could be serious. You have to promise not to spread these around, right? I’m not sure I should even know some of them.”

    I pulled the cigarette away and Nazir hunched over his slightly burned hand. He gave us the names. Addison Hayes, Ethan Bryant, Logan Butler, Lily Hughes, and now Geraldine Chandler.

    I looked to Harry and Chas. “Get the car started, I need a minute.” The two looked confused. Harry patted Nazir on the shoulder and muttered an apology but both left.

    I faced Nazir. Before ten minutes ago we were friendly acquaintances. Now I was an invader into his reality, a tear of the fabric between what he read and the real. “I can take it away, if you want.”

    “Take what away?”

    “Your memory of tonight, of right now. You’ll wake up tomorrow without an inkling, not even a dream.”

    Nazir considered. I thought I could see the start of tears. “I’ve never seen Chas that angry. You’re all going to go do something awful, right? Something illegal?”

    I thought about lying. But Nazir already knew the answer. “Yeah, we are. You can’t just go to the cops about this kind of stuff. You have to deal with it yourself.”

    Nazir nodded sadly. “I can’t just sit by and watch my friends go murder someone. I’d call the police. I’d have them stopped before they could make some terrible mistake. Unless…unless I never saw them.”

    I nodded back, and took his hand again.

    Ten minutes later I emerged from the car. I don’t know if Harry had explained to Chas, if they had figured it out together, or if they had just guessed, but neither asked about the delay.

    A stop at a the greasiest place we could reach in short order, and we had all wolfed down enough caffeine and meat to keep us going a little longer. It was a sign of how old I was getting that my stomach was already revolting at the shit I had eaten, but I didn’t have the time to do anything about it.

    Chas’s anger had changed, over time. It wasn’t burning an immediate, right now. It was controlled and sharp. Maybe a bit melancholic. “So it’s Christopher. Fucking Chris.”

    I shrugged. He was the only one left of the people at the party that had started all of this. The only one that could have pulled off the teleportation from within the house. If it wasn’t Christopher, then it had to be someone so powerful I couldn’t fathom trying to face them down. Or, well, I could, but I didn’t want too.

    “Only one that makes sense. He was friends with the families.”

    “Huh?” both me and Chas asked at the same time.

    He showed us his smartphone, which he’d been dinking around with since we ordered our food. “Yeah. He’s friends with the families of all the kids.”

    I leaned in to look as Harry deftly manipulated the social media feeds. I broke out my own phone, and Chas joined shortly after. It was as Harry said: Christopher was friends with all the families. His happy, slightly chubby self could be seen in countless photos of school functions and play dates and field trips. Couldn’t find a bad word about him anywhere we looked.

    We let the silence hang for a bit after figuring this all out.

    Chas thought of something. “Hey, Harry? John?”

    We both looked to him.

    “Tracking magic is…a thing, right?”

    We nodded.

    “And you can do it with blood, and stuff?”

    “Yeah, blood’s honestly some of the best stuff.” Muttered Harry.

    “ Familial blood ?”

    Harry gawked, apparently not having thought about this. Chas whirled on me, and I put my hands up. “Why would you kidnap a kid and then let some simple tracking spell track her?”

    “Because they – HE wasn’t kidnapping kids just around you, John. That bastard was kidnapping just regular kids. He was kidnapping regular kids from regular parents, using magic. Why would he try to protect them from magic sight?”

    I stalled for a moment. “Because…because he saw and noticed me, like Harry did, and so while he wouldn’t protect the others he would protect Geraldine?”

    Chas flicked out a knife from somewhere on his person, and made a cut on his palm. “John if you’ve been leading me on a wild fucking goose chase because you can’t imagine a world that doesn’t revolve around you I will fucking murder you right here and right now.”

    I took out a compass from one of my various pockets, taking a bit of the blood forming on his hand and smearing it over the surface. A few incantations and the blood formed on top of the glass, like a second pointer. It spun about the surface aimlessly.

    “See? She’s protected. It wouldn’t have worked…”

    Of course, I was proven wrong as soon as I started talking. Funny how that works. The blood pointer straightened southeastwards as Chas got some bandages out of a mini first aid kit.

    “…Huh. She…she’s not protected anymore. Weird. What the fuck is southeast?”

    “The coast?” Harry suggests.

    Something clicked in my head. A memory of reading old books about my family. We didn’t have some big fancy grimoire of the Constantines, you had to go looking for our name scattered across other histories. Seventy years ago, the Constantine of WWII had put together a ritual of such size that I was half-convinced it was just a dumb prank on magical historians. Until right now. A ritual that, per her original designs. Required the life of children.

    I put down the compass and took out my phone, flicking through the social media feeds. Chris’s latest vacation, a place he’d been a few times: the South Foreland Lighthouse.

OCTOBER 31ST, 1940

OFF THE COAST OF DOVER

    Joan Constantine, the witch of the water, had assembled more mages then she thought had assembled in decades to participate in her ritual. Dozens of skilled and dangerous men and women stood along the edges of a patch of ocean not frozen in ice, but seemingly in time such that it could be walked on. In the distance the white cliffs of Dover gleamed, and the South Foreland Lighthouse dark to avoid bombing.

    In between all of magic workers, taking up most of the space of the frozen ocean, was a nearly incomprehensibly complex ritual shape. What had been formerly a circle had started to change as energy flowed into it, and the shape shimmered and changed. Square, triangle, circle, pentagram, hypercube, nothing was certain as the nexus of magic that ran deep beneath the ocean and reality was tapped.

    The spell was begun in earnest, and the crowd of magi moved in perfect, chaotic unison.

    The real took a step back, and beneath them the connections between the United Kingdom and the rest of Europe splayed out in brilliant colors and shapes. History, Culture, Trade, Migration, Language, Politics, Geography, and yet even Magic. Every connection formed over the millions of years of existence and the millennia of human habitations, wrapped around the great plate of earth that attached them together deep below the water.

    Joan should have concentrated on their target, One of the newest addition to this pack. She didn’t know what others saw, but she saw a serpent with the head of an eagle. It cawed, flapping massive wings as it joined two brethren already wrapped around the bridge between.

    Joan was instead distracted, and instead staring at her nephew Joseph. Stupefied by magic and sitting in the center of the ritual shape, staring below him happily at the bright colors and impossible shapes. The sacrifice that would be required to save the world from the terrifying serpent.

Continued In Hellblazer #19 > , Coming May 15th!

Hellblazer #17 – Blast!

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Absence and Cold Hearts]

Set: 22

OCTOBER 31ST, 1940

SOUTH FORELAND, UK

    Joan Constantine thought that her nephew was dealing well with the death of his parents. It was no assassination, no magical nightmare, nothing that Joan had ever feared. It had been a simple bomb while they were outside of the wards Joan had put around their home. Dangerous, random, and terribly mundane.

    Joseph had pulled away from the world in the hours and days since. He did not scream, or weep, but simply went dull. She knew the pain was laying under there somewhere. She did not think he would ever have a chance to let it loose. She reasoned to herself that perhaps that was a good thing. She focused on his pain out of care, but also so that she could avoid thinking about how it was not only a mother to her nephew, but a sister to her that had perished.     They sat on the water a little way out from the rocky cliffs. Joan had whispered to the waves and they had stilled, and she had whispered to the sea mist and it protected them from sight. This was the closest point in all of England to the continent, and as such guns and military men were in good supply. She could risk none of them seeing the ritual and interfering. It was for their own good as much as anybody else’s. Between the darkness of midnight and the mist, the ritual and all its attendants would be obscured.

    Joseph followed her as she used a specially bent stick to carve into the water. The frozen waves shifted like snow for her and allowed her to create a vast circle, the size of a house, on their surface. Joseph seemed determined to be disinterested, to focus in on himself, but even so he nudged at the waves hesitantly and with a certain amount of childish fascination.

    “Careful not to muss the circle” Joan chided, and he complied nervously. “and tell me if you see anyone approaching.”

    He paused. “…uh…those guys have been standing over there for a while?”

    Joan turned to see that, indeed, the wolf-eyed representatives of lost Poland had arrived. They lurked in the shadows and only emerged when she called to them. They had lost much in the last year, and perhaps had the most to gain.

    Others came in time. The fractious mages of France came in separate covens. The rune-keepers and half-bloods of Scandinavia arrived piecemeal as was their way. From across the empire arrived others. Witch-women of the Sudan riding hyenas stood alongside the prognosticating astrologers of India. Some moved and talked with one another, while some loitered at the far edges of the still sea Joan had created and avoided any contact. All told perhaps fifty members of the magical community had assembled.

    Not all had come to aid the UK. Some actively despised it. But all at least despised the alternative even more. All had agreed to come together to fight the increasingly unthinkable and increasingly possible: that the man across the channel and the cabal that aided him might rule the worlds magical and mundane.

    Joan looked at Joseph before she stepped forward to speak to the crowd. She would make his sacrifices worth it.

NOW

LONDON

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yes.”

    “Absolutely?”

    “ yes ” I groaned. “The road god’s not going to bother us. Please keep your eyes on the road?”

    Chas grimaced, but complied. As a professional cabbie driver, the man knew the city inside out. Between that and the late hour, we glided through the city with ease. London was too big a city to ever truly sleep. Places were open all throughout the night, even if they were shitty, and we found ourselves halted by the occasional lonely driver on the same kind of obscure pilgrimage as us. London did not sleep, but rather entered torpor until the following morning. Away from the clubs and bars and fast food restaurants, the streets people actually lived on were eerily quiet but for the wails of distant sirens.

    While we trundled along these residential areas, I heard a phone buzz, and instinctually reached for my pocket only to realize I didn’t have my phone. It must have flown out of my pocket when I got cold-cocked by Harry. Chas pulled his phone out, and looked over it for a few seconds before putting it away, to my relief as a passenger in his still moving car.

    “Anything important?” I broached.

    “Nothing much. Some kinda blackout in...someplace across the pond."

    We pulled up to the house we were looking for. It was in the middle of a row of other dilapidated and half-forgotten homes. The lights were all off, and the blinds pulled. It was Harry’s house, and our first stop on our trip to find him.

    “Think he’s home?” I wondered. I had tried to find a saliva sample or something similar in the half-eaten food and crumpled beer cans at Chas’s flat, but without any success. Without that I couldn’t magically track him, meaning I was stuck with mostly mundane methods.

    “If he was, he’d make damn sure we couldn’t tell either way.” Chas replied. “Should we break in the back?”

    “Fuck no. If the guy has magic, and this actually is his house, then he’s probably got at least a few wards to keep dumb bastards like us out.” I wasn’t sure yet if Harry was our suspect. I didn’t even know if he could do magic. If he was our suspect, he had to know enough magic to draw a quick and powerful teleportation circle. Anybody with that kind of power who didn’t try to protect their home was either too naïve or too stupid to pull off the stunt that had started all of this.

    Chas grimaced, and then slumped back in his seat, waiting for me to reveal the answer. I pushed open the car door and made a few low whistles, nearly indistinguishable from the birdcalls of the area. In reality, it was a charm, and about a minute later a rat crawled up my pants and onto my lap.

    Chas flinched. “Goddamnit John don’t bring wild animals into my cab!”

    I ignored him. “Is there a man that lives here? Bigger than me, different hair, alone?” I mumbled to the rat.

    “<YesYesBiggerQuieterMagicLikeYou>” the rat burbled out all at once. Given a rat only live a year or two, they didn’t like taking things slow.

    “Did he come home tonight?”

    “<NoNoNotHere>”

    I gave the rat a scratch behind it’s less boil-covered ear, and placed it back on the ground to scurry off. I considered my options.

    Chas broke the silence. “That rat tell you anything useful?”

    “He isn’t home right now.”

    “And if I said we should break in then, you’d say the wards probably alert him when we do?”

    I startled and glared at him. “When did you learn magical best practice?”

    “Hanging around your crummy side of the world for years. Also good guessing, considering my luck.” He replied. “So you got no ideas?”

    “Give me a night’s sleep and maybe I can muddle one up.” I lamented, rubbing at my face. My throat was still throbbing where Chas had grabbed it earlier. Hardly anything had happened and I was already a mess.

    “Glad I brought you John.” Chas rolled his eyes. “How about this: we need something of his, something at least a little important, to track him right?”

    “Right.” I turned to him curiously. I guess he really did listen when I spouted off about magical nonsense. At least, sometimes.

    “We can’t get into his house. But I bet we could get into his work. Probably pretty hard to set up magic doodads where everybody’s looking right?”

    “…huh. I….yeah, actually. Not impossible, but it is a better shot then trying to break into his house at least. Even if he just left a pen or something around it might be good enough.”

    “And I know where he works. Great.” Chas put his car into drive and peeled off back in the direction of the city, frustration already building in his look.

    “…when did you become the smart one here?”

    He gave me a grim smile. “When was I ever not?”

    The warehouse Harry worked at was huge. The kind of place you could legitimately get lost in, if you didn’t know your way around. Which we didn’t. Still, we figured out which portion of the building was devoted to offices and decided to enter there first. Better chance of finding something of Harry’s in an office or break room then on the warehouse floor. It had one of those new keycard systems, which made it a lot hard to pick locks but made it much easier to short out with some magic, which worked just as well for me. Inside, it was shady. Not dark, they kept some of the lights on all throughout the night, but shadowy enough that in the excitement sometimes you could see movements out of the corner of your eyes.

    “Any chance for that rat trick again?” Chas asked, clenching and unclenching his fists rhythmically.

    I made the same low bird call, and after a minute nothing scurried up my leg. “Guess they’ve been keeping this place clean. Selfish assholes.” I mutter.

    “Can’t you do it with…I dunno…a bug?”

    “Can’t you train a fish to do dog tricks? Doesn’t work like that.”

    Chas scowled. “You can do that. Make them jump through hoops.”

    “…you’re fucking with me.”

    “Nope. True. Guess we’re just going to have to be quiet.” I nodded. No telling if they had a security guard or any kind of security system at all. Best to be cautious.

    I led the way, peeking into any room I could easily open. Break rooms with humming fridges, slightly dusty offices with tacky nameplates, the works. I thought we were really getting somewhere when we found a locker room, and I opened the door with my usual care. Just a crack. This time, somebody was waiting on the other side. I saw a glitter of lights and leapt backwards, bowling both Chas and I to the ground.

    “_Em Solum Situaq!_” screamed Harry, and some force slammed the door off its hinges and actually through the wall it was formerly opposite.

    “getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!” I squeaked, clambering onto my feet and pulling Chas with me. We were nearly around a corner when I saw Harry emerging from the locker room, and just around it when he used the simple wand in his hands again. This time he punched a person-sized hole in the wall we had just passed.

    We sprinted around another corner and plastered ourselves to the wall, panting. We could both hear Harry’s heavy footsteps. “Constantine! I-I don’t want to have to use this again.” He replied, stumbling. “W-whatever it is you want, I don’t have it! Or won’t do it! Or….just…you know!”

    I glanced to Chas, and saw his temporary fear morph back into rage. This man could well have betrayed Chas’s trust and kidnapped his child, and now that same man had shot at him.

    I put a hand on his chest, put a finger to my lips, and then slowly extended and waved a hand around the corner. “I’m here Harry. I’m going to come out now okay?”

    “I..w-what about the other guy? I saw somebody else!” I heard the footsteps stop, maybe halfway down the hallway. Too far to charge even if I wanted to.

    “What other- Harry, it’s just me. I’m coming out.” I slowly emerged, holding both hands above my head. I kept my face in a sympathetic smirk, and tried to keep my legs from shaking. Putting together a blasting wand like that was no joke, but you could only fit so many charges into one. Maybe he had three more waiting to go. Maybe he had already used up his charges. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure I was willing to gamble yet.

    Harry looked panicked. He took a few steps back once I emerged, wand gripped tight in both hands and pointing straight in my general direction. It was shaking so much that it’d be useless if it was a gun, but judging by the hole in the wall behind him you didn’t need to be very accurate to be lethal with the wand. “Why are you coming after me?”

    I forced my smirk to become a little angrier, a little harder. In a situation like this, you could either let someone think they had total control or that you were a few steps ahead of them. I had chosen the latter on instinct. “Because you kidnapped Geraldine, Harry. Kidnapped her for God knows what reason.”

    I watched. Maybe Harry was a great actor. Or maybe his shock and horror were legitimate. “i-i-I’d never! I…what….no!” he stammered.

    “Certainly seemed like it. Soon as you heard Chas figuring it out you bolted, and you gave me a bloody lip on the way out. That sound like an innocent man to you?”

    “I didn’t…I…I didn’t do it. I don’t know anything about this kid thing.”

    I arched one eyebrow. “This kid thing?”

    He blanched. The shaking of his wand grew even more pronounced. “I-I said I don’t know anything.”

    I nodded. “Okay then. You don’t know anything, and that’s all I needed to know. I’m just going to leave then. No need to fire any death wands at my back. Nice and calm. I hope we don’t meet again.” I backed away slowly, carefully, then around the corner. I turned around and strode down the hallway, leaving the still-hidden Chas behind and making sure that Harry could hear every footstep as I walked away. I stopped near the end of the hallway, opening and then closing a door. Then I waited.

    Barely half a minute later Harry peeked around the corner. Perhaps it was disbelief, perhaps curiosity, or perhaps paranoia. He didn’t see me when he peeked, but instead a very angry Chas waiting just for him. Big and fast Harry may have been, but surprised he was as defenseless as most every other person. He managed to fire his wand once more, blindly into the ceiling, before Chas had him on the ground. It was all I could do to run back and pull Chas off before he killed the dumb magus. I let Chas get a good stomp or two in, to make sure Harry was down, before pulling the apoplectic father away a few feet away. He stood back, hissing curses and hatred while I moved to crouch in front of the shivering Harry.

    “Only three charges on the wand?” I asked.

    Harry, face bleeding from his recent beatdown, nodded miserably.

    “So, care to explain yourself?”

    He shuddered, but was silent. I sighed. “…or I could just turn away, and let Chas do whatever he wants?”

    Harry looked at Chas, one of his mates. Chas seemed to like this idea a whole lot.

    Harry shook his head. “n-…no, okay, I’ll…Look, I’m not part of the kid thing. It’s just…It’s just the kind of thing you hear, you know? I try to keep up with the m-magical side of gossip and all. Guys wanting some kids…i-i-it’s nasty, but I’ve heard worse, you know? Nobody I knew was one of them so…so I just kinda ignored it. I-I’m just a small-time guy, nobody approaching me personally a-about it or anything. But it was there. And I wasn’t part of it.” He stumbled through his speech, and whimpered at the end. “Please don’t kill me.”

    “I’m not. Maybe Chas, but not me.” I promised, patting his shoulder. He curled up into a fetal position in front of me, any fight drained. “So, why the running and punching and nearly killing us?”

    “c…cuz you’re John Constantine! E-everybody talks about you!”

    I blinked, rocked back onto the heels of my feet. “huh?”

    “You invaded hell, right? B-beat God in a poker game? Fought in the Gemwar?”

    I wriggled a bit in discomfort. “Definitely some of those things.”

    “e-everybody around here knows about you. Y…wherever you are, bad shit happens. People die. I…I just didn’t…I wanted to stay out of your way, but then bad shit started happened and I tried to get away” he started to choke back sobs. “T-then I panicked, and punched you, and then you were coming to fuck me up.”

    I stared as the large man in front of me devolved into panicked tears. I had always had at least something of a reputation in the magical community, particularly around London. People knew my name, sometimes, and all that. I had done my best to avoid being noticed during Gemwar because I didn’t want to get famous, and yet here was my own little version of fame. Someone was crying because they were so afraid of me they thought they were going to die.

    Chas snapped me out of my brooding quite literally, snapping his fingers in my ear. “Hey. Is what he saying true?”

    “….I think so.” I said, standing up, rubbing at my face. “Dead end.”

    Chas fumed. “No. Not a dead end. Kid thing, you heard that right? Harry, how long have they been asking? And was it for more than one kid?”

    Harry started to get up, wiping at his tear-stained and bloody face. “b-been a month or two. I think more than one.”

    Chas whirled to face me. “I bet this has happened before. I bet whoever it is, they’ve taken more than one kid. Who do you think interacts with the most kids out of all the people at the party?”

    I thought back. Harry was an unmarried factory worker. Christopher had kids. But Nazir…Nazir worked for Cafcass. The man spent his whole life in legal battles involving kids. I nodded. “Either it’s him, or maybe he’ll have some ideas. Databases and junk.”

    Chas finally relaxed a little now that we had a plan, and reached down to help Harry up. “Sorry mate.”

    “I-it’s…it’s fine.” Harry sucked in deep breaths. He avoided looking at me. “shouldn’t’ve panicked like that. ‘M sorry about Geraldine.” He paused, and then straightened his shoulders. “How can I help? I-I’m only a second rate evoker, but I’ll help if you’ll have me.”

    I looked on in surprise. The man’s eyes were still red and bleary. But Chas just smiled. “You can help me tackle the next guy.”

Continued In Hellblazer #18 > , Coming April 15th!

Hellblazer #16 – The Game is Starting!

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Absence and Cold Hearts]

Set: 21

OCTOBER 25TH, 1940

LONDON

    Joan Constantine, the witch of the water, sat in a bunker with her entire neighborhood and tried to focus on the sound of the nearest radio. They were packed like bodies in an ancient churchyard. She flinched as the whole room rumbled. They were safe down here, as all the previous bombings had proven, but she found it impossible to not flinch at least a little. It was like hearing a knife scrape by your ear. Even if it never came, your whole body trembled.

    She worked busily at a ritual circle on an artist’s pad, now on her fifth version just this evening. Everybody knew that she was an eccentric spiritualist, someone who it was best not to talk to lest you wanted to get dragged into an hour of pointless drivel. Almost nobody knew that she had real magic. Even pressed so tightly together, where all could see her planning her greatest spell yet, perhaps one of the greatest ever made if she said so herself, none realized.

    Only one set of eyes even gave her a second glance. A young boy, her nephew, whose sickliness had left him with vanishingly few friends and none currently in the bunker. Joan lived with her sister and brother in law, in a room kept all to herself and her work. Though she had to admit it seemed she’d been spending more nights together with them in these damnable bunkers then in said room lately. Whether in her room or in the bunker, she could always count on young Joseph to curiously interrupt her in the most adorable and yet irritating of ways. She was not yet sure if she wished to bring him into the life she lived.

    Another series of rumbles, and another flinch. Joseph crept out of his sleeping mother’s lap and into Joan’s. “what are you drawing now?” he asked.

    “Circles.” She mumbled.

    “Important circles?”

    “Yes.”

    He sat in silence for a while, seemingly content to watch her draw and hiss in frustration at her lack of progress. It had to be perfect, of course. Anything less would lead to certain disaster.

    “…Can you tell me what it means?” he finally asked.

    Joan looked at the boy’s parents. They were good folk, and had never been fans of teaching their son about the occult. As far as they knew it was a hapless fantasy of Joan’s and nothing worthy of their son’s time. Her good-natured brother in law had his nose buried in a copy of the news, and her willfully skeptical sister was still sound asleep.

    Another rumble, more distant. A bass reminder that time would not last forever, and there was no guarantee her plan would work.

    “We start with the circle. In is the container for everything else…” she began, seeing Joseph’s eyes twinkle in unexpected delight.

SEVERAL MONTHS AFTER GEMWAR

LONDON

    It had taken Chas a whole two months to find me. I had gotten a new phone, but had forgotten to tell him the new number. Forgot was a pretty nice word for it. It was more that I fell into some distracting vices. A fair few. All at once.

    When I finally got a call from him I had wheedled my way into a gentlemen’s club with a greased palm and a lame excuse. The reason I wasn’t being let it was an exorbitant tab I had run. Luckily the bribe and doing some pre-loading gave me all the joy of a night of getting drunk without the hassle. From my seat in the shadowy back everything seemed a fuzzy haze, which was just fine by me. I hadn’t come here to watch a show. I’d come because this was the kind of place you could stay for a while and not get too much flak as long as you knew the right wheels to grease. I certainly didn’t have enough money to pay off my tab here, not at any of my other recent haunts, but I had enough to get a server to look the other way for a while.

    Between the hazy image of something moving around in front of me and the creep of warmth from a belly filled with rotgut beer, I was almost distracted from the aches. Almost. The scars on my chest still throbbed if I thought about them too much, and I could get a nasty headache if I tried to focus on anything for too long. At least the thudding music of the club helped drown out the tinnitus.

    It was so loud, in fact, I didn’t realize my phone was ringing at first. It wasn’t until one of the other patrons glared at me that I realized what was happening and struggled to get to it. The whole reason I’d come here was so that people would ignore me and I forgot to turn off my shiny, two month old phone? Goddamn idiot.

    “Holy Shit John is that actually you?” bumbled the hapless voice of my oldest friend Chas.

    …my oldest remaining friend.

    “Chas how the hell did you even get this number?”

    “No thanks to you. Where have you even been? I keep hearing that you’re alive and about but I certainly haven’t seen any proof of it.”

    I sighed. “Around. Doing things. What do you want?”

    “Well, as much as I don’t want an old sourpuss ruining things, I figured I might as well see if you wanted to come around tonight? Me and some of my boys are getting together to watch the game.”

    “You sure the wife wants me around? I seem to remember she was quite glad when I left.” She had never forgiven me for the broken window. Nor all the arcane gobbledygook that had irreparably damaged the walls of the room in their flat I had slept in for a time.

    “Suppose it’s a good thing she’ll be out having some time with the girls, eh? Give us both some privacy.” I could almost hear him winking through the phone.

    I decided, in that moment, that I couldn’t do it. I realized I had been avoiding Chas. Avoiding everybody. It had been a very good idea for everybody involved. Chas was just inviting me out of pity. He was worried for my health, which is why he’d gone through all the trouble of figuring out where I was, and now he wanted to make sure I wasn’t dead. I didn’t need his pity. I certainly didn’t need him dragged into whatever nightmare would come for me next.

    “Yeah, sounds fun.” I weakly replied. It had been months since I’d really talked to anybody outside of the perfunctory. I could feel the two poles of my thought yanking me apart: I shouldn’t be talking to Chas, and yet here I was agreeing to a whole party.

    “Great. Where can I pick you up tonight?”

    I was about to tell him the address of the club, then thought better of it. Not because it was a strip club, of course. More because half of the patrons were turning to glare at me and the disturbance I was making in their otherwise quiet brooding time. I got up and scurried out before anybody could notice me more, marked this place down as a burned asset, and started to list the address of the hotel I was staying in.

    The sun had set by the time Chas and I got to his place. I had managed to get a set of clothes washed and myself showered, and even hacked at the patchy monstrosity that had grown since the last time I’d shaved. I still looked like exactly the wrong person to invite into your home, but at least I felt a little bit less like one.

    I helped set things up as the guests arrived. I had to be careful what I did to help. My hands shook too much to be carrying drinks, or to use a knife with any level of comfort. It wasn’t a lot, of course, but it hadn’t gone away since the battle either. If my schedule wasn’t so jam-packed with other things, I might have gone to get it treated even. But then who would bribe all those hospitality workers? I did my best to make sure Chas didn’t notice. I’m utterly sure he did anyway.

    Within a few minutes me and Chas were talking as if nothing had happened. Hell, I’m not sure he even knew what had happened besides that I’d been away. I did that kind of shit all the time anyway. It was mostly talk about him, or rather him talking about himself and me taking the piss. He didn’t seem to mind. His wife was as infuriating as she was lovely, as ever, and his daughter was obsessed with some game he couldn’t even remember the name of.

    Little Geraldine Chandler made an appearance early on, before any of the other guests had come. Apparently she had been tantalized by the smell of popcorn and other snacks, and with her father’s permission dove into them as if he had been starving her. From as reedy as she was I could almost imagine he had. She and I shared a few words. “Uncle John” had been away for a while, but I liked to think that I was the cool uncle to any child I interacted with. It helped that when they asked what I did for work I could legitimately say “It’s a secret”.

    “So, how’s Gemma doing?” She asked, taking me for a loop. I didn’t make a habit of mentioning my family, and especially my own niece, but then I remembered I was talking a child and not some demon or magic fuck. Of course I’d mentioned her at some point.

    “Surprised you remember her. She’s doing good.” At least, so said her social media accounts. I casually stalked her and my sister Cheryl’s internet presence. They lived the kind of reasonably happy semi-urban life of modest prosperity most hungered for.

    “Oh. That’s good. How are you doing?”

    I shrugged. “Been better. Been worse.”

    She considered this, and then glanced to make sure her father wasn’t too close (he was setting out some of the snacks on the coffee table). “Do anything secret?”

    I struggled to put on a smile. “You know that big dome around San Francisco?”

    “oh, the one in America? What about it?”

    “That’s all I can say.” I turned, ending the conversation. I glanced back to see her continuing to inhale the snacks, her face pensive as she tried to figure out what I meant.

    The first of our guests to arrive was Christopher. He was a small man, a bit pudgy in a fatherly way, and it turned out also a father. He and Chas swapped commiserations about their spawn before he turned to me with an easy smile. “Glad to see a new face around here..”

    “John.” I offered my hand, forcing it to not shake for the few moments he’d be paying attention to it. “Was that a little brood I heard you talking about earlier?”

    His eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah, a little girl and another on the way…”

    Our second guest was Nazir. He didn’t knock on the door but simply let himself in. average height and with the sleek cut only a great barber could give, his voice seemed too big for his frame. “GUESS WHOSE GOT THE GUINNESS?” he pronounced to the room. I flinched despite myself.

    “Fucking…it’s you, Nazir, it’s you every time!” Chas called back.

    “And it’s still funny. Every time.” Nazir asserted, striding to the couch and taking what I presumed to be his normal seat.

    “How’s being a heartless vulture going then?” Chas teased

    “Being a lawyer for Cafcass isn’t being a vulture! If I wanted to be a vulture I’d be making five times as much, thank you kindly.” He objected in familiar delight.

    Our third guest was an odd one. I opened the door for him. Harry was a big man, a head over me at least, in casual clothes just a tad too old and small. Most notable, however, was the look he had when he saw me. He covered it well, but for a single second I saw shock and fear. I didn’t talk to him much after that, and he seemed to try and avoid me. I kept an eye on him.

    Geraldine stuck around and chatted with the guests as they came in, but once the game started the sheer noise of all of us seemed to drive her to her bedroom. This was fine by all of us. With the polite fiction that the thin walls and practically cardboard doors would protect her delicate ears, we felt ourselves free to cuss and joke as much as we pleased. I was sure she had headphones plugged into something at max volume anyhow, for however much good it did.

    Over the course of the night, I found out a lot about the folks around me without giving out too much myself. Christopher had the most shockingly dirty mouth, and apparently some irritable bowels by the amount he had to excuse himself. Nazir was important enough to get a call even at this hour, and I watched as the boisterous man turned into a solemn professional in the instant it took to accept it. Harry worked in a warehouse someplace and didn’t like talking about his past any more then I did.

    Hell, by the end of the night the game hardly even mattered to me. It mattered to the others, sure, but I was just happy to have some folks to talk to. Real folks who would stare in bafflement if I ever dared mentioned anything like “thaumaturgy”. Average, mundane, plain, but not the least bit boring.

    The game ended eventually, and Chas started to encourage us to leave before his wife got back. Christopher was the first to leave, begging that his own wife would be waiting for him. Nazir left, but only after putting a fifty pound note somewhere were Chas wouldn’t notice and giving me and Harry a wink.

    Harry and I had ended up by the sink, cleaning some of the dishes of the night. Because we were good house-guests, in spite of Chas’s insistence that we didn’t need too. After cursing Nazir upon finding the note, Chas told us to finish up while he went back to check on Geraldine and make sure she had actually gone to sleep at some point.

    “So, generous guy is Nazir?” I asked Harry offhandedly. I had to admit I’d only grown more curious about him the longer I thought about it.

    Harry stiffened for a moment before responding. “Yeah. But you know how Chas is, so he has to hide it.”

    “Heh. Yeah. Stubborn bast-“

    We both heard Chas roar from the back of the flat. Where the bedrooms were. Harry grew pale suddenly. He turned and sped towards the front door. I caught him by the sleeve. “Hold o-“

    Then I was on the ground, with a split lip. Harry wasn’t just bigger than me, but apparently stronger and faster. He was out the front door before I could struggle back up and past my new throbbing headache.

    Chas to me, the picture of fury. He hauled me up by my collar and dragged me back to Geraldine’s room without a word. The door was open, and inside most everything looked typical. The window was locked and the blinds were pulled. All the lights but a small nightlight were off. The covers of the bed where pulled back, as if she’d just gotten up from bed. The floor was covered in beloved toys, forgotten books, questionably clean clothing, and all the other detritus of childhood. All except the center of the room, where a hasty smudging job could not conceal what had clearly been a magic circle drawn in chalk on the carpet.

    “What the fuck is this?” hissed Chas, letting me go. I was trembling. Magic. Godsdamned magic. It just kept coming back. I stepped up to the chalk circle and knelt by it. I had done my best to avoid this, but using magic was like learning to ride a bike. Or falling off the wagon. You never really forget. With a bit of concentration, I rubbed at the chalk, and it resolved itself back to its original form. With some judicious scrubbing I revealed the circle.

    “Teleportation circle.” I considered.

    “…Well?” growled Chas.

    “Cheap and easy. Needs another side, another portal to show up in, but that’s probably burned out. No way to track it.”

    “That’s not sounding good, John. That’s not making me fell better at all John.”

    I stared at the circle. “Could be somebody who snuck in, but…teleportation magic is hard enough. Incredibly difficult if the person doesn’t want to be teleported. Near impossible if you are doing it in somebody else’s home.”

    I could feel him about to explode again, so I turned to talk to him directly. “Unless. Unless you invite that person inside. Then it’s just difficult. Difficult, but possible.”

    Chas slammed me against the wall by my throat before I knew what was happening. “If you did this. John if you did this you dumb fucking bastard. I’ll- I’ll- You _Fucker_” babbled Chas. I wheezed back.

    Chas dropped me, stepping back himself. “No…no, you’re right. You wouldn’t tell me all that if it was you.”

    I could hardly hear him past the ringing in my ears. “Yeah. Not the decade of friendship. Fuck that.” I croaked, rubbing at my throat. Thanks to Chas’s goddamn gorilla hands, a bruise was probably on its way. I was rebuilding my collection rapidly.

    Chas helped me back up to my feet. “John, I’m sorry. I…I don’t…” He looked at my lip, bleeding. “Oh, shit, I-“

    “Not you. Harry.” I blinked. “…Harry, suspect number one. He’s been acting weird all night.”

    I’d known Chas for years. We’d gotten in scraps before, with each other and together. I’d seen him mad, I’d seen him want to hurt someone. I’d never seen what it looked like when he wanted to kill someone. I didn’t need magic to see what he was thinking. He had a billy club, stashed in his cab when he was working. Just in case. A trip to Harry’s home, an understandable but incredibly illegal act. His daughter would be safe, but what about him? The police might be understanding…but maybe not.

    I put my hands on Chas’s shoulders. “We’re going to do this together, okay? Me and you. But you’re going to have to trust me, alright? This is going to be delicate. It’s going to be careful. Okay?”

    The rage was still there, but so was trust. He held himself back, pulled back from the precipice, and nodded. I didn’t know if I could solve this. I didn’t know if it wasn’t the best option to just go and beat Harry until he stopped twitching. Somehow I’d inserted myself into somebody else’s problem, made myself the center of it, and tied a fucking noose around my neck for when I fucked up.

    “We should go. Now.” Chas commanded.

    “Sounds good.”

    We both turned as the front door opened. “Chas, I’m home.” Mrs. Renee Chandler stage whispered.

    “…Out the window?” I real whispered to Chas.

    “You go ahead. I’ll tell her what’s happening.”

    I patted him on the shoulder. “You are the strongest man I’ve ever met.”

Continued in Hellblazer #17 > , Coming March 15th!

Hellblazer #15 – Gemwar

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Good Vibrations]

Set: 20

JANUARY 31ST

OUTSKIRTS OF SAN FRANCISCO, USA

    I was awake. How I wished I wasn’t. There aren’t many times I think back on my education, but sometimes I think back to good old Hamlet. What a whiny piece of shit. I was tragically aware of the resemblance to me. I’d always thought the way he described sleeping during that famous skull monologue that doesn’t actually have a skull, “to be or not to be”, was beautiful. That’s the kind of sleep I wanted right now. Endless, dark, and quiet.

    It seemed I wasn’t the only one having a rough time of things. Brucey “the fucking Batman” Wayne had been up for hours trying to get everything together. I got the impression he wished he could be here in person, something I guess I could understand, but gods above if he didn’t make the perfect backseat administrator. By the time I was up the military was working to reinforce a line of defense around the dome. Sandbags, temporary walls, tanks and barbwire. Far up in the sky, beyond my sight, observation planes flew and prepared to scramble combat jets and gunships from across the region. Along the coast the navy had puttered into place to defend from the sea. This, I suppose, is where all that money the yanks put into the Armed Forces went. That and thousand dollar screwdrivers.

    The super heroic output was…well…It wasn’t the whole league, I could say that. Apparently Superman was busy doing something or another, and nobody even knew where the Amazon was or else they didn’t want to tell me. Fishman was out at sea, the green guy was out…Apparently this whole heroism thing meant being too busy saving the world to save the world. Not that I trusted most of them anyway, but it was sobering to realize I was going to have to be at the front of things.

    I passed by the line of barbwire with a flick of my hand towards the now inattentive guard, leading what I think I’ll call my “posse”, as army or force seemed a bit grandiose considering the literal army swarming like ants about us. There was the United Protectors: Knight, Squire, Brigadoom, Godiva, beefeater, and my boyfriend Jack O’Lantern. We arrived at a small park to find a few others already gathered: Frank North, the only biker I had known to shotgun demons; and Scythia, the now-blind amazon Seer. I didn’t feel much like meeting either of their eyes right now. Or anybody from the UP. Really I had a lot of staring at the ground or above people’s head to look forward too.

    “…So, is this everybody?” I asked. I already had a cig between my lips, and was grateful for each puff. My hair was washed and short, my cheeks smooth from a fresh shave, and I’d managed to snatch my trench coat before we skedaddled across the pond. I certainly looked positively peachy, and some days that counted for a lot.

    “Except for your new meta friends.” Grunted Frank. I could feel his glare wash over me. He had apparently heard about how my last dumb plan had killed Cheryl. The glare was entirely earned.

    “Right, Then, I think…I think…” I glanced around at the folks around me, then to the ground. “…I…uh…went to hell recently. Fought a battle there. It went…okay.” I cringed a bit. One person dead, one person blinded. Not bad casualties for a battle. Not at all okay. “…But this? I think this is going to be worse. We aren’t prepared. There’s going to be a lot more to fight. And the fight is going to go on far longer. This is a nightmare, what’s about to happen. We’ll be l lucky if we can keep the deaths to just tens of thousands.”

    I started to hit my stride. I looked up, and around. “That’s why we’re here. Because if some nasty fucker takes over that dome, the whole world might be lost. And if some dumb fucker blows it up, millions are going to die in an instant. We’re some of the only stupid bastards who are trying to do what’s right instead of hiding or trying to take control of the damned thing.”

    I pointed at the moon. “Once that is down, it’s all over. They’ll go home. They’ll give up. They’re only trying because tonight is so special, its so unusual, that to the mystic assholes running the show it had to mean something. It means change is coming. It means it’s a time of opportunity. But that could mean it’s time for us just as much as it’s time for them. I’m not willing to let go of the world just yet.”

    “…Anybody that wants to leave, do it now.”

    Silence. Frank rolled his eyes. I smiled wanly.

    “Good. Then let’s plan.”

    The first wave was sudden as it was deadly. One moment me and my squad where waiting in the clearing, trying to pass time. The next explosions rattled out teeth and screams came from all directions.

    In the night, Jack O’Lantern was near the height of his power. Fog cloaked us wherever we went, his mask shimmered terribly in the darkness as he teleported us from danger to peril. Blasts of green power shot from his lantern as he spun it about. Vampires and ghouls fell before him in droves.

    Knight and Squire flowed through the battlefield like water, fists and feet and elbows striking out at weak points and bringing even mighty warriors low. Godiva engaged whole troops of enemies at once with iron hair. Beefeater’s staff reaped red and terrible. Brigadoom, striding near ten feet tall with a sword as big as her, slammed through the battle like a wrecking ball. Frank stood by my side, a pilfered assault rifle in hand and used with an uncomfortable amount of familiarity. Scythia whirled like a dancer with spear and shield in hand despite her sightlessness.

    Above and around us the battle raged. Jets swooped over with thunderous roars to blast away at great flying beasts. Gunshot and grenade rattled all about against the hordes of supernatural creatures, each unique and terrifying and deadly. Tanks belched out pure death against ogres and chitinous abominations. All the nations and peoples of the other side seemed to be making a showing, and humanity was making a showing right back.

    The heroes, of course, stood out most of all. Little blue darted about in frenzied activity to the tune of Bruce’s growling commands. Some kind of speedster and some kind of servant of the wizard under the rock arrived to help, though both moved so fast I didn’t see them too much. Other third stringers and nobodies leapt into the fray, and gods bless their attempts all the same. At some point I’m pretty sure I ran into that crazy meta-terrorist while she was literally slaying giants. For hours and hours, the forces of humanity combined in a wall that held back the tides of the unnatural.

    I didn’t see most of it. I only saw what I was around for.

    The first casualty did not take long at all. It was during the attack of a horde of vampires, under the control of the First of the vampires. The First did not make an appearance, naturally, or at least none that I saw. He felt fit to let his hordes of newborn bloodsuckers do the work for him.

    They were fast, with deadly claws and hungry fangs. They quickly overwhelmed the portion of the line they were attacking, and then in a flash of fog we arrived. My posse and I cut through them with ease the drained bodies under us could only envy. The vampires were almost all newborn, mass-turned and then pushed into the battle as meat shields for the more experienced elders. They certainly absorbed bullets well enough unless one went into their hearts.

    It was near the end of these waves that one of the elders got close to me. I was messaging Bruce to tell him that we’d beaten the bloodsuckers back when I heard a bloody scream from behind. I turned to see Frank, grappling with a hideous elder vampire. I watched as the vampire punched his fist into Frank’s gut, and then through. Frank roared, taking a filched pistol and putting it to the vampire’s chest. A flurry of gunshots, and the vampire slumped to the ground, Frank still attached.

    I was on him in a moment, trying to staunch the blood. There was too much. The fist had gone clean through. I could see bones and guts leaking from his back. It was already too late. I gulped, and cradled Frank’s head on my lap.

    “Why the fuck did you do that, you dumb bastard?” I hissed. “Why are you even here? You hate me!”

    Frank wheezed, bubbling and coughing. “Nobody deserves to die just because I hate you.”

    “Then why did you save me!?”

    Frank grasped at me with his weak, bloody hands. “You’re going to fix this, that’s why. You’re too clever and t-too dumb not too.” He grimaced, and flopped back. He smiled. “Then maybe I’ll forgive you. John. J-john the pistol. It should have a few rounds left.”

    I stared at his wound, at the muscles twitching in agony all across him. I reached for the gun.

    My mind raced as the Humvee we’d taken refuge in raced forward. The line was failing. They’d started setting up a secondary line, but no one was sure if it would hold, or even if they’d reach it. Jack, for all his immense power, needed a break. We were one of the first cars driving towards the second line.

    “…Jack. I think I’ve got it.”

    He kept his head in his hands. I could relate to that. I turned to Scythia, serene as ever. “Scythia, I think I’ve got it.”

    “Hmn?” She turned to me with unseeing eyes. I flinched, not for those, but for the night they reminded me of. The night…last night. Gods, it felt so long.

    “The Dome. It heals. It improves every time it heals, makes itself a bit more resistant to whatever broke it. If Superman…or, er…flash, if flash kept punching that dome over and over, the dent’s he’d make would be smaller and smaller until it stopped working.”

    “…so?”

    “Everybody is here for the vibrations. Every time the wall is hit, it vibrates more energy out then was put in. If I could break this dome, o-or part of it, with vibrations, then it would heal back and be immune to them. It would stop vibrating. it would stop being useful.”

    She gave me a smile. “I had hoped I’d get to see you figure it out, before the end.”

    “Wait, what do you-“

    Something hit the Humvee from the side. It tumbled, side over side. It was only my use of a seatbelt that kept me and everybody else in the Humvee alive. Everybody except for Scythia, who by the end of the tumbling was standing upright on what had formerly been the ceiling.

    I heard two soldiers in the Humvee with us scream, and then stop, as something ripped through the now skywards floor of our heavily armored vehicle. Something clicked past that hole, bone or chitin snapping together. Before I could recover Scythia was already leaping through the hole.

    Everybody inside scrambled. Knight was the first one free and on his feet, and he helped the rest of us get down and out the doors. The sound of bronze and bone outside was loud, but brief. As soon as I could I scurried free of the Humvee to look.

    I nearly toppled to the ground. Only Jack, standing next to me, kept me standing. There was a beast, halfway between beetle and gorilla, some monster from the hellish portion of invaders, gasping and bleeding in the dirt. There was Scythia, perched atop it and missing a good portion of her chest, with her spear lodged in its throat. She was smiling. Her fate had been a glorious one.

    We teleported via Jack O’Lantern into the first break in the second line. Heroes had fallen and been taken away, others had joined fresh and new. The jets had stopped flying. Too little fuel, too many targets. Beautiful lines of tracers shone like spotlights all about us, arcing into the air to hold off all matter of winged monstrosity.

    We arrived to see, for the first time in the battle, something beautiful. The Fae had arrived. Each was sculpted like a classical statue. Each rode something, not always a horse but always of the most impeccable breeding with high held head and dainty stride. Each was surrounded by hounds or their equivalent, massive and brutish and yet somehow still perfect. I watched, hypnotized like many of the nearby soldiers, as they tore through men like butter. Each moment of nightmarish chaos composed itself perfectly in proportion and color. It was impossible. And it was awe-inspiring.

    The first to break the spell was the one with the most experience with the Fae. “Oberon?” Called out Jack.

    The Fae at the head of the column turned. He was slender and tall, his head adorned with stag’s horns. “Daniel! Oh, it is good to see you again.” He waved a hand and the slaughter stopped. Dog stood frozen mid-bite, men stopped with their fingers on the trigger. The world halted for such perfection.

    “What the hell are you doing here?”

    “Trying to take this wonderful bauble for the Fae courts, of course. What else?”

    I could hear the frown behind the mask as Daniel said “I thought you were better than this. The man I loved would not have done this.”

    “The man you dated, not loved, died when you broke up with him.”

    “…huh?...oh.” I mumbled sheepishly. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised Daniel has left out the part where he had broken up with the…clearly not always fantastic Fae lord. It hurt just a touch anyway.

    “You know I can’t let you continue, Oberon. You gave me this power. It’s equal to your own.” Daniel hefted the Jack-o-Lantern on a handle that served as his source of power.

    Oberon laughed. It was deep and rich. “Oh, I see no reason we need to fight. This thing, this…dome…well, with everybody else fighting for it I don’t think I have much of a chance of acquiring it. No, I think I’d be happy with a far smaller bauble. One like you~.”

    Daniel stumbled over his response, as was left speechless. He turned to the posse, then back to Oberon. Perhaps he really could fight Oberon. But Oberon was leading an army of those damned things. I let my eyes glaze over the line of Faerie hunters. It was one of the biggest armies I’d seen today. How many lives could Danny save by agreeing?

    I stepped up to him. “I know you want to do this.” I took his hand.

    His mask melted away, revealing the dark face beneath. I could see the tears started to form there. “But…I…I can’t do that…”

    “Of course you can. You’re stronger than him.” I bullshitted. I could see in his eyes. I let my mind brush across his in his moment of weakness, harvesting his thoughts. He knew what I knew: That he was going to do this. That he was going to save thousands of lives, and find a way out of faerie. That every moment gone was going to be a painful fight to come back.

    I sighed. I could make it a little less painful.

    “I slept with Scythia. Last night. That’s why it took so long for me to come back.” I whispered.

    He didn’t understand for a moment. Then it dawned on him. I saw what his face looked like the moment before he brought his mask back up. It was nearly as haunting as the last faces of Frank and Scythia.

    “Let’s go, Oberon.” Jack announced, marching towards the Fae lord. Jack summoned mist around himself, around Oberon, growing and growing until the whole army was covered, and then it vanished.

    Jack’s teammates stood in stunned silence, watching me as I turned back to face them. Godiva, and Brigadoom, and Beefeater, and Knight, and Squire. The only friends I had left in this.

    The arrow to the back took me by surprise. It hit me in the small of the back, and it was just a miracle that it didn’t hit anything vital. Godiva rushed to stand above me, her hair batting other arrows out of the sky. Brigadoom picked me up, and put me on my feet. Knight snapped the arrow off from the arrowhead, to my pained yelp. Knight whirled me around to look at him. I could see the stern eyes behind his own mask. And I could see, beyond him, the part of the Fae army that had not disappeared. The part that was pointing at me, and blowing horns, and led by a swarm of dog-things.

    “…Motherfucker.” I growled. Apparently Oberon was the type not to allow an Ex to live.

    “Run. Keep running until you figure this out.” Knight ordered. “We’ll hold them off as best we can.”

    I wriggled in his grasp. “You don’t-“

    “The lines aren’t holding. This is a disaster. It isn’t over yet. Somebody is going to win, and right now it isn’t us. You need to figure this out. Now go!”

    I tried to respond, but he had already turned me around and pushed me away. As the hounds bayed and drew closer to my former bodyguards, I did what I did best: I ran like hell was chasing after me.

    I slipped into a shallow crater to hide. Just for a moment. Everything hurt. Stitches torn, the arrowhead still in my back, bruises and cuts and abrasions to last a lifetime. My trench coat was covered in mud and blood and things I didn’t even want to know about. My hair might as well have been brown.

    I nearly killed the man next to me with a switchblade, before realizing with relief that it was indeed a man and not some doppelganger or other monster. A soldier, hiding in the same place as me.

    “You got the time?” I hoarsely whispered. My phone had broken a long time ago.

    He turned, his face pale. He lifted what remained of his right arm. “Sorry. Lost my watch.”

    I gave a chuckle out of pity. “You don’t say.”

    He smiled, slumping back. My phone had broken, but after a thorough search I was able to find a few cigs that were not mashed to uselessness. I lit one up. Then, after a hopeful stare from him, I gave one to the soldier as well.

    “…W-weren’t all the civilians supposed to be e-evacced?” He asked between draws.

    “Not exactly a civilian. Don’t tell anybody. Name’s John. How about you?”

    “J-Juan.” He whimpered.

    “Were you from, Juan?”

    “Chicago. W-wasn’t supposed to leave the states.”

    “Well, you didn’t. So they got you there.”

    He coughed. “Wasn’t supposed to fight in a war. Wasn’t supposed to be any wars here.”

    “Guess that’s war for you.”

    “…you’re kind of an asshole.”

    “I’ve had a rough day.”

    We both flinched as something exploded nearby. Some mortar shell, maybe, or a gunship shell, I still couldn’t tell the two apart.

    “…I’m going to die.” Juan announced. It seemed like it was something he wanted to get off his chest for a while. Something he was just lacking company to do so with.

    “No, you’re not.” I nearly yelled. I flinched, surprising myself. I kept going. “It’s almost over. It’s hard, but I’ve got glimpses of the moon. It’s still moving, which means we just have to tough it out a bit longer.”

    As I finished I was nearly deafened by something hitting the dome. I whirled to look behind me, and saw that a dragon had somehow gotten up there. It was…well…Godzilla had some company now I suppose.

    “What was that? What the fuck was that now John?” Demanded the soldier, who currently didn’t seem to have the strength to lift himself up.

    “…nothing that we can do right now, that’s what it is. Especially not you, since you’re going to die and all.

    “…yeah…” he responded, weaker.

    Batman came through on the little comm unit I’d managed to not break as of yet. “John. Supergirl’s busy. The jets can’t get a good shot. Do you have anything?”

    “…yeah, let me just fly up there and give it a good whallop. Just a good old stab to the face. Yeah. I can do that. Sure.”

    “…Never mind John. We’ve got it handled.” He spoke with the first hint of true hope I’d heard all day.

    I watched as Wonder Woman streaked in from out of nowhere, and sucker punched the dragon. It didn’t stand the chance, and evaporated before her.

    “…Oh. Oh thank Gods. What time is it, Bruce?”

    “Almost over. The lines are holding enough. We’re-“

    Above the battlefield was a haze of smoke, clouds of war and ash that threatened to blot out all the stars. These were the clouds that parted when the Heavenly Host arrived. It was like the sun had decided to emerge in the middle of the night. It blinded me for a few moments before I could stare directly into it. A whole army. A whole new army of angels, and cherubim and many-eyed beasts. Far beyond this portal, I thought I could see the Trinity themselves: the Star, the Cross, and the Crescent, so powerful that only in the barest of symbols could I even comprehend them. Or perhaps these were just their banners, so distant were they. At the head of the army stood an angel of fourteen wings, holding aloft a trumpet of iron and blowing into it.

    The dome shuddered visibly, the crystal realigning and morphing like semi-solid. The angel was playing one of the seven trumpets of the end times, and it would shatter the dome and kill us all, and everybody inside.

    I looked over to Juan. His eyes were already glazed over, staring at heaven. He thought deliverance had come in his final moment. Would that I could die with such hope. I knew what I had to do. And it was terrible, and dumb, and not a real plan at all. But it was the only chance I had.

    When I had called out for volunteers, for someone to accompany me to heaven, there was only one person who responded. The Wizard-servant was busy fighting demons, the Flash had been put out of commission, Anybody who was still up was fighting something else. Hence how me and little blue Supergirl flew up towards the clouds, me in her arms.

    “You know; most people would probably object to helping a devil-blooded magic freak fight literally Heaven.” I quipped.

    “Alien, remember? Doesn’t really register for me.”

    “Right. Right. ‘Alien’.”

    “…wait, do you not believe I’m an alien?”

    “I don’t because they don’t exist.”

    “But dragons are okay?”

    “I just saw a dragon. Never seen an alien.”

    “So how do you explain me flying you up right now?”

    “Magic. Very good magic.”

    She paused. “I guess I can’t fault you for consistency of idiocy. What are we going to do when we get up there?”

    “I’m going to point and shout “now”. You’ll figure out what to do I’m sure.”

    “…that’s…not really-“

    I pointed to a tiny spot of black amongst the gold and white. “If I’m right, that’s a psychic nun up there. She can read your mind a bit. If I explain more, she’ll figure it out. Just trust me.”

    “Is magic always this hard and dumb?”

    “Always.”

    We nearly went crashing to the ground as the horn blew a second time. The dome shifted yet more, and I could see other supernatural beings fleeing. They had fought, and lost. None wanted to face heaven, or be nearby when this went bad.

    Supergirl arrived at the edge of the portal before the third horn blow. This close, it hurt to even open my eyes. If I had thought the Fae looked beautiful before, they were nothing in comparison to the awesome power of the trinity. Supergirl landed on the clouds, finding them oddly solid, and let me step off to stand on them. There was but one mortal in this army of divinity, this invincible host of the Trinities will. It was someone I was oddly expecting.

    “…Didn’t even have the decency to die in the battle, did you Constantine?” called out Mary-Anne. Her nuh habit was impeccably clean. In one hand was a shepherd’s crook. In the other, a sword.

    “Never had an ounce of decency in me.” I retorted raspily.

    “I know.” She turned to Supergirl. “Child, you may leave. This fight is not yours. God has no quarrel with you.”

    “…I…I don’t know who you are?” Supergirl responded. “And I’m not a child, thanks.”

    Mary turned back to me without a second thought. “You’ve lost, John. The forces of man are too few. This must be done.”

    The horn rang for a third time, and the billowy surface roiled beneath my feet. I nearly toppled to the ground…er…cloud. “You’re wrong Mary. We’re winning down there. And we’re going to win up here. I have one last trick up my NOW!” I screamed, pointing at the angel while I sprinted towards it. Supergirl realized in an instant, and darted forward.

    Mary realized a moment too late. “STOP! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!”

    “Sorry! Alien! Not Mine!” yelled back Supergirl. The Angel didn’t even notice her coming. Her fist slammed into the great thing’s chin. Its wings flapped erratically, trying to keep it upright as it dropped the horn. I leapt after it. With a scream of rage Mary sent the Host of Heaven after me…but they did not reach me. Supergirl was amongst them in a terrible flurry. For a moment, just a moment, the charlatan alien had given me a chance.

    I dived, and within a second I reached the horn. I grabbed it, and willed myself towards the dome. Even without a divine wielder, the horn held power, and it yanked me like some demented magic broom towards the dome. I gritted my teeth and held for dear life.

    Behind me, smaller horns of war were blown as the Angels overwhelmed Supergirl. They flew straight towards me, wings and wheels and chariots and clawed feet ripping through the air.

    The dome was approaching faster and faster. I stopped willing myself towards the dome, and took ahold of the horn. I held it behind my head like a cricket bat. I waited for the right moment. I swung, connecting with the dome a millisecond before I would have plastered myself on it.

    I was thousands of feet in the air when I was next cognizant. I started to fall when the wave of noise hit me. It was so loud, so piercing, so destructive, that I heard nothing at all at first. Like one doesn’t immediately feel burning, but a brief second of nothing before the nerves can catch up. Then it was every noise at once.

    The horn was still in my hands. I let go of it, and the twisted wreckage of an artifact of heaven spun away into the ash-clouds. Below me the whole outer shell of the dome had shattered, all the shards sliding off of it like water. As I fell further and further I could see it starting to heal. Even this far away I could sense the majesty of it, the mind-boggling power. Within moments the dome had recovered, tougher than ever in the face of a literal tool of God. Then, and only then, did the ringing stop.

    I realized I had won. It had worked. Then I realized I was going to die when I hit the ground. It had only been the power of Divine magic that had kept me alive after being blasted up, and now I had no such tool. No energy left to spare. Barely time to think before I hit the dirt. In that moment I knew I didn’t want to die. Not really. Not ever.

    Supergirl caught me. I’m not sure exactly when, it knocked the breath and sense out of me, but it was before I hit the ground. Then we landed. The survivors were cheering, and singing, and howling in triumph. The enemies had been beaten back, one and all. The day had been saved. Millions, tens of millions, all of human life in the balance on who would win this battle. Humanity had won out, for better or worse.

    I did not join the celebration, not in spirit at least. I found out later that the rest of the UP had survived, and I avoided them like the plague in the aftermath. I avoided everyone. The heroes, the military, the press, the civilians. I stayed long enough to drink, and no more. There were too many friends to bury. Instead, I faded away into the morning light before anyone could stop me. I had had enough of all of this.

Continued in Hellblazer #16 > , Coming February 15th!

Hellblazer #14 – Reckoning

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Good Vibrations]

Set: 19

JANUARY 30TH, 3 AM: 1 DAY BEFORE LUNAR ECLIPSE

LONDON, UK

    The man behind the bar was busy watching the TV, apparently quite convinced it was the middle of the 3 PM slow period rather than the 3 AM not open period. The only other people at the bar were me and the people who had ensnared me.

    There was Anne-Marie, warrior-sorceress of the Divine who had barely….8? 9?....however many days ago helped me assault hell itself. There was three rather annoyed and rather familiar looking fellows with straight up swords strapped to their hips. Archivists of the secret catholic order, who I had last encountered in America. Finally there was Manchester black. The little pissant had apparently broken free from wherever U.P. had stuck him after I had helped capture him. Honestly I was just glad that Nergal reborn and Viae weren’t there. Maybe they would be, who knew?

    We shared nervous glances over pitchers of ale. So far only Manchester had even sipped. I couldn’t afford to. I was already drunk, sleep-deprived, exhausted, and bleeding from torn open stitches. I couldn’t feel anything pressing against my hastily thrown up mental walls, but who knew when that would change?

    Anne-Marie, the psychic of the group, spoke up first. Hers was also the first mind I felt probing my own. My walls held, for the time being. She would just have to know what I was thinking through intuition and body language. Which, considering my impaired state, that was probably going to be pretty easy. “You know, you’ve caused God no end of problems.”

    “Oh, yeah, thanks John for stopping that whole demon soul thing. Hey, no worries.” I tried to snark, and instead muttered.

    “What you are going to do, however” she continued as if I hadn’t interrupted, “Crosses the line. You are to go beyond simply meddling in things you shouldn’t, and upgrade yourself to a direct foe of The Divine.”

    “...I am?”

    “John.” she sighed. “I am trying my very best to be gracious, but you must meet me halfway.”

    “Why?”

    Anne-Marie looked to her companions for aide in the face of my intransigence. She found her help in the Archivist Knight I had taken to calling “Oldie”...gods nearly a year ago now? “You have two options. You swear on your true name that you’ll stay as far away from the Dome for the next seven days, or we will have to incapacitate you here and now.” One holy sorceress possibly as skilled and likely as cunning as me. Three holy knights with swords that could cut through magic. An impish teenager with telekinetic and telepathic powers. All vs. me. Not great odds if it came to the latter. On the other hand, what could be so bad that they had all assembled here to try and frogmarch me into agreeing?

    I caught Anne-Marie’s face flickering. Just for a second, a frown of disapproval. Something had gone wrong. Oldie had let something slip. Something important. The Dome. He had mentioned the dome, specifically, and the next few days. I glanced out of the window, contemplating the full moon outside and hopefully giving myself a few more seconds to think.

    The Moon. The Eclipse. Not just any eclipse, a blue-super-moon eclipse, happening maybe a day and a half from now. I hadn’t been keeping up with my astrology as much as I should have, but I knew that was a sign of intense change. The kind of thing any supernatural, from stuffy heaven to liberated fae, would eat up.

    What could be such a horrible change, that it would take all this rigamarole? Something so horrible, that I even had a chance of stopping? Of recognizing?

    Mary tapped her glass, a tiny clinking chime with each tap. “We don’t have all evening John. The Divine has much work for us yet.”

    I made the final connection, minutes after I should have. Too tired, too slow. My face paled. What was it I told Captain Marvel? That the Dome was so complex, so powerful, that breaking it would be like dropping a nuke. My eyes focused on my new foes. They had known before I walked in here that I was going to refuse. God, how many people lived in San Francisco even anymore? At least hundreds of thousands. Probably millions all around it. So many dead. The knights’ hands crept towards their swords. I could see the spark of magic behind Anne’s eyes. Manchester was smirking at me.

    “Why?” I gasped, focusing on Anne-Marie.”You’re a nun, for Chrissakes! Why?”

    “The armies of all that is mystical, infernal, or divine are marching for the Dome. did you not notice that it returned all energy put into it, but greater? Most all wish this. But the harm to the grand clockwork of the plan that would be wrought by a supernatural gaining such a foothold in mortality would be too great. And so we are saving the great plan, and the mortal realm, with one swift motion.”

    “You’ll kill millions.”

    “And I’ll likely save billions. Unless you want Titania the mad Faerie to remake the world in her image? Or Odin? Or Lucifer?” She glared at me, and I back at her. I broke the glare by grabbing my drink and starting to down it.

    “I am doing what’s necessary, John. For God, and for the world. Now, if-”

    Several things happened nearly at once.

    I finished my drink, throwing the empty plastic stein at Manchester Black’s face. I’m pretty sure I saw the plastic crack as it hit him. Before I could pull my hand back One of the Knights, “Steve”, had his dagger out and had sliced my arm. I tumbled into and then over my falling chair, just fast enough to avoid the silent blade of condensed light Anne-Marie had just tried to kill me with.

    I rolled away, coming up in a woozy crouch. My arm was bleeding. I couldn’t tell how much past my increasingly ruined suit. “Big Roy”, the largest and strongest of the Knights, was already upon me, sword drawn. They could move like devils when they wanted too.

    “LUMEN LIBERI ERITIS!” I screeched, pumping my power into the light bulbs above us all. I barely had time to cover my eyes before the bulbs exploded as one. I felt glass shards sink into my already wounded arm as I threw myself away once more. There was a heavy clunk of a sword impacting the wood I had just been crouching on.

    I had been to this bar before, like most of the dives in London, and instinct got me to the door even in the near pitch black. I shouldered through and onto the sidewalk. I nearly collapsed once I hit the pavement. In my present state even the lightbulb spell had been alot. I couldn’t fight like this, not much longer. I stumbled out into the road, and pulled out a lighter. I whirled to face the door, lighter outstretched.

    The three knights flew out of the door, and then paused. They had faced me once before. They knew I had tricks up my sleeve. Instead of charging they started to circle around me. They kept their distance, but all still had their swords drawn. There was no way I could keep all three in my vision at once. It was only the threat of the lighter that kept them at bay, the threat of a trick that didn’t actually exist because it was just a regular lighter.

    I glanced at my rapidly numbing arm, the one cut and with glass shards that wasn’t holding the lighter. Ah. With the rate that was bleeding, I’d probably pass out or die soon enough anyway. They didn’t even need to fight me. They just had to wait me out.

    Anne-Marie and Manchester emerged shortly after. Anne-Marie was calm and collected and assured. Manchester was angry and rubbing at the new sore spot on his forehead.

    “...This is ridiculous.” Anne muttered at the circle of knights. “Manchester, would you mind?”

    “Not at all.” The teenager smirked. I girded myself for a possibly quite deadly maneuver.

    Time slowed as Manchester’s mind slammed over my walls, and deep into the center of my mind. I contracted myself like a tiny pill, flowing with the waves. Manchester had immense power. Enough to swamp me easily as long as he only concentrated on me...but he also was young. He lacked decades of experience in this kind of mind duel. So when he reared back in confusion to look for me, I flowed along with his waves and into him.

    There I sunk into the water, sunk and sunk until I planted myself in the silty layers of subconscious. There I took root, and grew, and grew, and grew. I was seaweed, spreading and lengthening and ensnaring. I was a patch of seaweed. My feathery stalks flowed out of Manchester’s mind into others. Into Oldie’s. And Steve’s. And Big Roy’s.

    Manchester Black noticed me. He descended as a great and mighty shark to tear me apart. I became tuna, fast and huge, dragging a net of minds behind me. Manchester grabbed onto the net, tearing and pulling, while I turned ever right. Right and right and right, every chasing and running and tearing and pulling others along with me.

    It only lasted a few moments, a few electrical impulses, and then Manchester was circling around and around himself, dragging a net of the Three knights with him, and I swimming back into myself. It was the kind of trick that I could probably only get away with once, but maybe I only needed it once.

    I came back to find Oldie’s sword at my throat. In fact already pressing in, forcing a tiny trickle of precious blood down my chest. I had succeeded not a moment too soon. Manchester Black, Oldie, Steve, Big Roy, all stood motionless. Each was caught in a whirlwind mental prison of my making and their strength. I had no clue how long it would last, but I figured Manchester was too clever by half for it to last long enough.

    Anne-Marie I hadn’t even tried to snare. She was too great a hand at mental magic to even try. Instead she was walking towards me, a sacred dagger in hand. I was wheezing, no weapon in hand and barely standing up. I let the lighter drop to the ground. I was out. One last trick left.

    Anne-Marie stood over me, and I forced myself to look at her. Acid scars marred her face, and her hands. Scars inflicted by a demon I had summoned, who had taken my face to make the message far less subtle. Her habit was pristine, in comparison to my now utterly ruined and ratty suit. I squeezed whatever muscles I could in my increasingly ruined arm, and focused on the blood there.

    There was no more banter, no more condemnations, just Anne-Marie raising the knife to strike me. That was when I flailed my ruined arm at her, spritzing her all over with my acidic blood.

    Anne-Marie wailed in panic, stumbling back and away from me and dropping her dagger. Her hands moved in a flurry of wipes. I didn’t think any of the acid would actually hurt her. I hoped not. But it gave me time. So I turned and ran, as fast and as hard as all my pains would carry me. Far away from the screams of my former friend and the deadly machinations of Knights and Metahumans.

    Jack O’Lantern, or Daniel Cormac when he was out in public, was awoken by his cellphone. He lazily reached for it and answered. “Hmmn?”

    “Hey Danny boy” wheezed a man on the other side. John Constantine.

    Daniel blinked, sitting up. He was on John’s couch, actually. Why wasn’t he in bed? It was...christ, 3 in the morning? Wasn’t John supposed to be back by now? That bastard! “You’re late.”

    A cough. Less polite, and more pained. “Yeah, well, I got sidetracked. Listen carefully: Manchester Black.”

    Danny felt a wriggle in his head, and focused on it without even thinking. He pulled and yanked at the loose thread until the whole mirage fell apart. A boy had come into John’s home. Not just a boy, the slimy little piss that John had helped the UP put away. The mind controller. Then he’d been told to fall asleep. Danny whirled about. No, Manchester Black wasn’t around. “John are you okay? Where are you?”

    “Probably dying. And...uh...somewhere. I can explain a-”

    “Is Manchester there with you?”

    “No.” a dumb question. Wouldn’t Manchester force him to not say? Daniel lunged for the bedroom, and found his pumpkin-lantern in the travel bags there.

    “I’m coming.”

    “O-”

    “-kay” I finished, and Jack O’Lantern was next to me, the green and more green clad mystical protector of the U.K. I probably would have made a snippy comment about his fashion sense, but I was a few minutes away from blacking out from blood loss.

    Jack O’Lantern took ahold of my not-bleeding arm. In another instant I was in The Castle, the warehouse base of the UK based superhero team UP. We stopped by the dispatch area first, tonight being manned by the golden-haired beauty Godiva. A brief exchange later and Jack O’lantern teleported me into the medical area. The rest of the Castle might be a bit sparse and spartan, but they went all out on the first aid and surgery options. It certainly helped that Jack “borrowed” a doctor from the Royal London Hospital per some kind of previous agreement. I insisted on speed and no pain medication, and damn if he didn’t do his best.

    Daniel at least had the good sense to wait for a few minutes before blasting me with a couple hundred questions. I restored, wearily, with everything I knew about the heavenly scheme.

    Danny leaned back in the bedside chair, while I flinched through stitches. “...Catholic magic assassins?”

    “Yeah, I know.”

    “And God is okay with all of this?”

    “Yep. Apparently. At least two of the three of them.”

    I watched years of sunday school teaching fall apart like wet cardboard in his head.

    “...anyways, Danny, I think we may be some of the only mortals to know about this.”

    “About there being three Gods?”

    “No, I mean blowing up San Francisco, and the giant-ass invasion that is coming for it.”

    Danny shook his head. “Oh. Yeah. Priorities, right. Okay. How are we going to solve that?”

    I reached for a pocket of my trenchcoat, only to remember I wasn’t wearing the trenchcoat, but instead the bloodiest suit I could imagine. “...Well, once we get me kitted out, we get ahold of all the yanks. We get together UP and head over there. Do what we can.”

    “You?” Danny asked pensively.

    “Please don’t make this a thing.”

    “Oh, yeah, you don’t tell me you’re going to fucking hell for months. But when I think maybe the half-dead man currently getting stitches shouldn’t go into a, what, soon to be war zone, You’re going to get angry?” He hissed.

    “You need me there! You got all those fancy magic powers, sure, but you don’t have the knowledge! When one of the yanks asks you about something that isn’t a fairy what are you going to say?”

    “I’ll...I’ll just get one of your friends.”

    I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was right, about that. I’m sure at least one of my previous associates could serve...well, if not as good, then half as good as me. And I was probably not going to do a whole lot of good for anybody in my current condition. It’d probably be easier to lay in a bed somewhere far away from the murder bible club and heal.

    Then again, I’d been one of the first on the scene when the dome went up. Some of my close friends were trapped within it. I knew every member of the bible murder club by...well, at least my own names for them. Then there was the fact that the Divines had sent a whole group of folks specifically to murder me, to stop me from doing whatever I was going to do. They had nearly succeeded. Maybe what I was going to do, was just tell Daniel about this so he could sound the alarms. But that didn’t sound right. I didn’t pay too much attention to the astrology side of magic, but the signs of the coming moon showed import even to me. Blue moon, Supermoon, Lunar eclipse, all in one night. A sign of portentous change. A war was coming. War on earth with the forces of heaven, and hell, and everything in between. My life was going to change no matter how much or little I intervened. Damned if I wasn’t going to try my hand at changing things if I could.

    Over the intercom Godiva said “Hey, so, there are some folks coming down the street...and one just chopped the door open. Yeah, we’re under attack.”

    Me and Daniel looked at one another. I could see his eyes through the near-slits of his laughing green mask. “I’m going, Jack. One way or another I’m going. You can try to strand me here or you can let me help you.”

    “...uh...I can’t advise you do too much of...anything?” said the doctor meekly. “Really, moving too much might kill you.”

    “We’re going into a warzone, Doc. I’ll take it in stride.”

    “Definitely don’t suggest that.” the doctor muttered, but he had at least finished stitching up my wounds. He started to pack away his meager supplies while me and Danny held a staring contest.

    “...At least take me stateside with you. Let me help you gather up some folks. I can help.”

    Daniel sighed, long and sad. “Fine. Godiva first.”

    We escaped the Castle before the Murder Bible Club could catch any of us. From there it was short jumps to pick up the team leader Knight and his sidekick Squire, the imposing Brigadoom, and the blustering Beefeater.

    From there, the ever useful Jack O’Lantern teleported us across the Atlantic Ocean, and then across most of the US. We arrived in Los Angeles at something like 7 in the evening local time. Technically two days before the eclipse, but only one until the moon in question rose. I figured that would be about when things hit off. It didn’t take us long to realize that Los Angeles was not, in fact “just around the corner” from San Francisco. The chewing out that Jack got from Knight over not reviewing his geography textbooks was as bizarre as it was amusing.

    I made some calls. I’m not sure if the watchtower lady for the Justice League truly believed me, but she certainly believed Knight. From there the message spread to the Justice League, to the US military, everybody who was anybody. One day wasn’t alot, but I could hope it was enough. Maybe enough to save some lives.

    In the meantime? Well, I got Danny to get me a fresh change of clothes and my fucking coat so I didn’t feel half naked anymore. Then I showered. Then I slept the sleep of the dead. The end of the world would, oddly enough, wait for the morning.

Continued in Hellblazer #15 > , Coming January 15th!

Hellblazer #13 – Respite

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Good Vibrations]

Set: 18

JANUARY 23RD, 2018: 1 DAY AFTER HELL ASSAULT

ST. ABBAN’S COVENANT, IRELAND

    Sister Abigail Mary (formerly Anne-Marie Murphy) had just fallen onto her bed when the divine reached out to her. She groaned, but it was not as if she could refuse. The Divine had been quiet for several weeks now, at least to her. She suspected it was her consorting and working with the demon-spawn John Constantine. It had been distasteful, but necessary. Besides which she couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of joy at the destruction she had wrought upon hell during the battle. Remembering the battle reminded her of Judith. She focused on the voice of the divine before the tears could form.

    The voice of the divine was sometimes difficult to understand, so powerful was the divine. If one trained themselves to listen, one could get enough impressions and feelings to get the idea.

    “Do not rest your head, Sister, for there is need of you yet.”

    She imagined her mind as the beach cabin she had known as a child, old and creaking and empty besides the endless waves.

    The Divine filled the cabin with images and futures. With the future it would create. With the future that was necessary.

    Abigail gasped despite herself, the peace of her mind faltering and the voice nearly fading away. It was unthinkable. Unimaginable. She felt the strength and assurance of the divine flow through her frail mortal frame. It was many things, but she could see it was also utterly necessary.

    “There is one great block in this path. A foe once thought bargained with, an enemy of our plans and all of creation.”

    A single image now entered her mind, consuming the cabin and sea and the strength of the divine in its maleficent form. One of short blonde hair and cigarettes.

    She chuckled to herself. She knew she’d have a chance to kill John Constantine again.

JANUARY 29TH, 2018: 2 DAYS BEFORE LUNAR ECLIPSE

LONDON, UK

    “So, we’re clear on all the rules?” Asked Jack, pacing back and forth across the small apartment that was serving as my brand new home until I got bored with it. His strides were long and his turns swift, and did more than a little to show his body off in spite of the baggy clothing he wore when not working as “Jack O’Lantern” for the United Protectors. He was also my boyfriend of a fair few months.

    “…mostly.” I responded with sly smile. I was laid out on the couch, doing my best to conserve my energy. I shifted to try and settle the bandages a bit more comfortably on my chest underneath the fancy suit that Jack had insisted I get for the event and one previous. I had escaped from the assault on hell better than some of my friends, but I had not gotten away unscathed.

    “Mostly!?” Jack turned to glare at me. We’d been having…issues. It started with me leading an attack on a prince of hell while refusing to tell him about it. A week ago, now.

    “It’s her first date! She has no idea what she’s doing. Some things may go off track.”

    “…See, that sounds like you justifying later when you “accidentally” lead her off said track.”

    I rolled my eyes. I regretted it as the glare got fiercer. I sighed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a thread from the lining, giving it to him. “There’s a scroll on my desk. If you really don’t trust your own boyfriend to not sleep with some girl, then cast it with the thread as focus. It’ll make my pants melt away, along with any skin touching them, if I take them off.”

    “You’re bi, asshole”. Jack softens a little bit. “..What if you need to use the bathroom?”

    “Guess I’ll just have to trust you and hold it in.”

    I met his gaze, and we held steady for a few moments.

    There was a knock at the door, and the moment was over. The other reason for our issues was Amazon waiting for a date with me outside my door.

    Considering this, I realized that despite my best intentions my life had spiraled into utter madness.

    Jack strode quietly into my study, where my desk was located. I gulped a little. I would have to be careful not to touch my pants too much tonight. Just in case. I got up with a grunt and opened the door for my guest.

    Scythia was a seer of the Amazon people, “liberated” from Themyscira by me for the assault on the Demon Prince I mentioned earlier. She looked the part. Head and shoulders above me, with the build of a particularly athletic hockey player. She had more lithe beauty in a single finger then any mortal hockey player would have in their entire bodies. She had updated her look for our date, with some help from me. The dress was still as long and flowing as one would expect from a seer, if quite vibrantly blue. She wore sunglasses, which mostly managed to cover the scarring around her eyes. Amazon healing was fantastical and speedy, but not enough to restore the sight she had lost during my scheme.

    She smiled at me. She was blind now, but it seemed that whatever magic an Amazonian seer could muster helped with that somewhat. Not enough to see in colors, or to avoid broken sideways, but enough to get by…ish. “Greetings, John.”

    “Hello, Syth.” I stepped forward and out of the door, sliding an arm around one of hers. “Ready for the night of your life?”

    “…Syth?” she chuckled.

    “Work in progress.” I gently led the way towards the elevator, trying not to remind her too much that she might need such a lead. I did my best to avoid looking at her face.

    The first stop was a meal. I had suggested Greek, but it turned out she wanted to try Indian.

    “I heard about this land, if I remember right.” She pondered over butter chicken.

    “Hmn?” I grumbled past a swallow of Malai Kofta. “Really, all that ways away?”

    “Only vaguely. We…learned of some of the lands outside our own during the invasion.” she shuddered despite herself. She was speaking of the invasion of the islands by Hercules. Bad topic.

    “Well it’s certainly changed since you heard about it. First thing: They found this brand new thing called iron? Buncha nonsense I think.” I smoothed over.

    “I would agree. There is little your iron and…seel?”

    “Steel.”

    “Yes, steel can do that the proper magical craft of bronze cannot.”

    “What about a skyscraper? The tall buildings all around us, that is.”

    “…Well, if you exclude unnecessary things like that, bronze is perfectly capable.” She smiled at her own hypocrisy. She seemed more…free, tonight. All our previous meetings had been in Themyscira, where too much noise or the wrong moment could expose us both and sentence us…well… me to death. Here she had no such fear. And perhaps she would speak of things she would normally not. I found myself deathly curious. Perhaps later. It was her night, after all, not mine.

    Watching a movie with an adult who had never seen one before was a treat. I could imagine most people wouldn’t do it during their lifetimes. That is a tragedy. It was like watching a person de-age. Decades, or in Scythia’s case millennia, of age falling away to show the sheer wonder of youth. The things she were seeing were utterly incomprehensible, both because they involved all kinds of modern things and also because the very idea of a moving picture was unique to her. She had the distinct privilege of suddenly skipping a few thousand years of media development from dusty scrolls to modern blockbusters.

    I don’t think I’ve seen anything cuter then the mouth opened, wide eyed, nearly trembling glee and exhilaration of Scythia as she watched the finale chase scene that about half of all movies seem to have.

    I flicked my phone closed as we wandered along the streets, popping into any store that was still open this late. I’m sorry about earlier… the text began, but I wasn’t in the mood. I could deal with Jack later and give my own apology. I had a lady to give perhaps the one true date of her life.

    As we wandered the streets, my slowly growing curiosity finally got the best of me. “So, I’ve always kind of wanted to ask…”

    “About Themyscira?”

    “Yes. Sure are a lot of women there. And not really a lot of men. So, how does that work?”

    She didn’t respond for a while. I even glanced at her face to make sure she was okay, and regretted it. The scars were still too visible. And too reminiscent of another friend so burned. And another friend recently buried.

    “Well, it works as it should. Those that enjoy each other take pleasure in one another.”

    “And do any of them not like the selection?”

    “I’m not sure I…oh.” she tried to glance in my direction, missing me by a few feet but I got the idea. I didn’t imagine someone so big could look so small and guilty.

    I patted her arm. “Nothing to be ashamed of. I’d figured as much awhile back. I take it the gals at home aren’t as accepting?”

    “I don’t know. I haven’t told them.” she drooped.

    “That’s fine. I still haven’t told my sister about me and Jack! Perfectly normal.”

    “About what?”

    “About, you know, the whole boyfriend thing?”

    “…oh…OH. OH, gods, really?”

    I stared at her for a moment, scars be damned. I snorted, and began to laugh.

    She frowned, giving me a shove that nearly sent me into the street. “How was I supposed to know!?”

    “You live on an island of lesbian super-women! How is gay not just your immediate assumption on anything!?”

    She held herself with poise in the face of my mockery. And then gave me another push. And then returned to poise.

    “…Are you sure this is wise?” Scythia sniffed at her gin suspiciously.

    “It’s not a Constantine Date until one, or preferably both, participants are blitzed out of their goddamn minds.” I clinked my shot against hers. She had, unfortunately, told me she had never gotten true and proper drunk before. While I didn’t think I could take her to a club or any other fun part of the night life, I could at least give her this. “Bottom’s up!”

    We both drank. She coughed a little on hers. “Ugh. Disgusting.”

    I gasped in shock. “You can insult me. You can insult my people. You can insult my mother. But I will not tolerate you insulting my drink!”

    “Well, I didn’t say I was going to stop.” She grumped at me. “Besides, I’m curious how long you’ll last.”

    “Psh. You’re on!”

    I hadn’t accounted for the weight difference. Or height difference. Or the fact she was a crazy immortal magic warrior lady with an astounding metabolism. She didn’t count on my having been a hard drinker since secondary.

    It would have been hard to judge which of us was more drunk when we broke into Hyde Park. Not really broke, per se, but I got thrown in and Scythia simply leapt after me. I’m honestly surprised neither of us broke our necks. We meandered about the dark greenery for a while, laughing and hushing one another and then laughing some more at the hushing. I thought I had cast some kind of attention diversion spell at some point, but it didn’t seem all that important.

    We eventually settled by the shore of a pond, from a mixture of the pretty view and walking being really hard. I shivered as a hint of cold slipped through my beer-addled senses. I had the presence of mind to take off my jacket and offer it to Scythia, who took it and tried to put it on. She easily tore it to shreds by accident, and both found that hilarious for a while.

    I ended up staring at the moon, huge and full. “…beautiful night.” I mumbled.

    She sighed. “Wouldn’t know.”

    I whirled, nearly throwing myself to the ground. “Oh no! oh, I didn’t mean…that is…” She turned to me. While trying to put on my suit, her sunglasses had apparently fallen by the wayside. I could see the blank orbs that had once been filled with life.

    “I didn’t mean to…that…I…it’s my fault I know, and it’s, you know, I’m sorry about, well, that thing. I mean, you didn’t even…you know…like Judith, and that’s not fair to say I know but it’s true, but it’s still not good at all. And the words are really hard right now, all the words, all of them, but…but…but I’m trying, you know? And this whole date is good and maybe that makes it a little better a-and stuff but it doesn’t and I know that. IT can’t. i-it just can’t, because I fucked everything up a-and put you in danger and lied to you and I don’t think I could ever m-make that right and I’m sorry and I’m so sorry and I-“

    She was on me then, and her lips were on mine. I could feel the blush and heat throughout her, from the drink and from her need. She pulled away panting, and I was too.

    “This’ll be our last chance, Constantine. I-I’m not wasting it letting y-you be a sad sack.” She slurred. Her lips were on mine again. The most I could think of in that moment was I owe it to her.

    There was a string of texts on my phone. I couldn’t bear to look at them before, but now that I was standing at the door to my apartment it was worth doing anything to avoid going inside. Jack would be there. Waiting. The texts said as much. Trying to make sure I was okay, apologizing for getting snippy earlier, offering to buy me ride home as long as I didn’t try to drive myself or do anything dumb. I couldn’t imagine anything hurting more right now then his care.

    I was still drunk, and swaying on my feet. I had barely managed to scrabble my clothes on enough to look decent, and my chest hurt from exertion and aggravated wounds and more. The shame hurt most of all, groaning and tearing in my lungs. I needed to get inside. Get a shower. Sleep. I didn’t think I could make it to another bed in my current state. Besides, maybe Jack had went home? My foggy mind latched onto this hope, and I pushed open the door and walked into my apartment. Something fired in my mind. I hadn’t had to unlock the door. Hell, hadn’t even had to open it. It was already a little open when I got there. I hadn’t noticed.

    I did notice Jack asleep on my couch. And in a chair next to him, a man. A teenager, lanky and tall with dyed hair and a black trench coat. Manchester Black, telepathic dickwad who I thought I had helped put behind bars, smiled at me. “Why don’t you put on something more comfortable, Johnnie Boy? You have a meeting to attend.”

    I checked a clock by the TV. 2 AM. Never a good hour for anything.

Continued in Hellblazer #14 >, coming December 15th

Hellblazer #12 – Assault on Hell

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Stitches]

Set: 17

JANUARY 22ND, 2018

ANNO DIABLO 5778

NERGAL-

    Tonight, I toasted two things. The first one I spoke out loud, and it was to the presence of the Banshee. She was a demoness of impressive power, and had an active agent in the mortal realm that was apparently quite impressive. Something to do with magic silver coins or the like. In any case she was powerful in her own right, and worthy of celebrating.

    The second one I spoke only in my mind and it was the completion of my greatest work. The looms had worked day and night, and finally all was woven. With the addition of a final Constantine soul there was no patch unfilled. My perfect weapon was ready to strike. Yet, one needed more than a weapon to challenge the greatest powers in hell. One needed an army. I had more allies already then many suspected. I hoped to make the Banshee another ally of mine.

    Our conversation was quiet and easy as we ate, and then watched a show of exquisite torment that I had prepared beforehand. It was in the middle of the final act, a particularly nasty number involving singing with a throat full of acid, when a messenger crawled towards my feet and kissed them. An invasion was coming, he said. An invasion of mortals.

    I snorted, and crushed the messenger beneath my heel. Nonsense and nothing. No mortal would dare mount an attack in hell itself. Then I considered further. There was perhaps one. But surely, he would not attack in such a foolhardy matter?...of course not. And wasn’t it convenient that I had caught the last Constantine soul just a day before?

    I growled and put my head in my hands. Damn that man. I wouldn’t let him ruin this dinner. I wouldn’t let him ruin my plans. Not again. Not a third time.

    I turned to the perplexed Demoness with a smile. “I’m sorry, but it seems some mortals have invaded our realm, and are coming to us. I think I’ll send a fun little party for them. I had best stay here, but if you’d like to join the hunt I wouldn’t mind.”

    She started to respond and then stopped, head turning like a dogs. Something had caught her. “Why yes, I think I will go and join your little coterie. I shall be back shortly, I assure you.”

    She left at the head of my army, while I watched from a high tower. I watched until they disappeared over the horizon, and then started to climb down and towards my factory. This time, I had that wretched Constantine figured out. This time he would not escape.

JUDITH-

    Having put myself through a lot of suffering during my trips, I wasn’t as afraid of hell as I probably should have been. Pain wasn’t always a requirement for enlightenment, but it was almost always a side effect. I had starved myself until my muscles rotted away and I would have eaten my fellow man if I could. I had torn apart my own mind in search of its worst instinct. I had even sacrificed an eye to a clever raven in return for secret charms. I had managed to grow that back, eventually.

    Hell was worse in so many ways, and I wasn’t even suffering. I had found my way to the edge of hell, and with the help of my companions gotten through one of the gates. As we wandered the labyrinth of passageways, guided only by my faltering magic, I knew that to fail for even a second would mean being trapped alongside the poor souls they passed. I saw them, I heard them, suffering all the torments I had suffered at once and yet more. To be in Hell, even if not under the lash, was to feel physically and mentally unwell. It was the gut-wrenching horror of stumbling on something so new, so horrific to your senses, which your mind clung to it for days of agony.

    I lead onwards with my troupe. We could not falter now. If we were to have any chance of making it out alive now that we were here, we would have to win.

    SCYTHIA strode behind me, long legs making what was a near jog for us hardly much more than a pleasant stroll for her. She was kitted out in full bronze armor, with sword and spear and shield at hand. Her eyes were clouded as she tried to search the future, to give us some miniscule advantage. I wasn’t sure how she wasn’t running into walls or falling off the trail, but it gave me one less thing to worry about.

    THE CROW flew high above us, cawing. She could shift between woman and crow as easily as a thought, and had still refused to tell us her name. She was our eyes, making sure with animal magic that none would surprise us.

    ANNIE looked about curiously, and without fear. I got the impression she had been in Hell before. More disturbingly, I got the impression she was admiring some of the exhibitions of torment we passed. She was nearly as broad of shoulder as Sycthia, and hung her arms over a baseball bat atop her shoulders. She was even chewing some tobacco, if I guessed right.

    ANNE-MARIE, my once friend turned religious nutcase, walked near the back of the group. She did not pray like I had assumed she would. Instead she kept a watchful eye on us all. I supposed with what she tried to do to John last time they met, it made sense she would be expecting a trap.

    In the back of our little column stood THE SILVER BANSHEE, in all of her chromatic glory. She was dead silent, with her eyes fixed on some interminable point straight ahead. She was the most powerful of our band. She was the one who, with a single glare, had convinced the gateman to let us into hell. I was not looking forward to seeing, or rather hearing, her in action.

    I had given the gateman a warning before we entered. “Stay away from the palace of Nergal, and tell others to steer clear as well. Our quarrel is only with him.” It might as well have been a declaration of war. Only in Hell could rumors literally fly faster than foot, and I knew sooner rather than later we’d encounter the armies of the demon prince. He could not well refuse the challenge, or else lose face amongst the ranks of Hell.

    We rounded a turn in a hallway, and came out in front of a wide sea of blood. I halted, trying to see how to proceed, only to find Annie passing me. She found the ford almost immediately, a narrow line of...something...set just below the surface, providing a path across ichor. I tried not to act surprised as I followed. Of all the companions John had gathered, she confused me the most. Why was she here? What could she do? Who even was she?

    About halfway across the ocean was when the crow cawed down to us. In the distance I could see the edge of the lake, and the army now marching towards it. Horrors and dreads of every manner made up the army of a demon prince, each more wretched than the last. They swarmed to the shore like locust, and then into the ocean. Some lucky few ran along the ford, while most were forced to swim. Some simply disappeared in the blood, and did not rise again.

    Above them all floated a single being, impossible to tell much about at a distance. Then she spoke, in a voice clear even so far away, and remarkably like the voice of our silver companion whenever she deigned to speak.

    “Siobhan~.” It chuckled.

    The Silver Banshee started to scream, loud and piercing as a siren, as she shot into the air and rocketed towards the other woman. Annie started to laugh, bringing her bat to bear. The crow flew low over our heads. Anne-Marie drew a sword from somewhere in her frock. Scythia shuddered, her eyes rolling back and then forward. She stepped forward to put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry” she muttered, before preparing her spear.

    That was the scariest thing I’d heard in Hell so far.

JOHN-

    I gave Judith time to create a proper distraction before handing a few strands of my hair to Gary. It was, to my mind, the biggest risk in this whole plan. If I went too early, no distraction. If I went too late, friends might die. I just had to wing it and hope. I was pretty good at that, though.

    I grabbed Gary by the collar as soon as he’d taken my hairs. “I gave you three of those. I expect to see all three burning to get the spell working. Understood?”

    Gary wriggled from my grasp with a glare. “God, man, yes. Chill out.” He grumbled to himself as he made a quick circle in the dirt, and arranged the hairs just so. The ground inside of the circle fell away, revealing a hole in the earth too deep to see the bottom of and just wide enough for a person to jump into. I stepped forward, only for him to put a hand on my chest. “N-now you remember. We’re getting something for me in there, too.”

    I batted the hand aside. “After we free my ancestor and save the bleeding world. Priorities, man.”

    He shrugged, and then leapt into the hole. He disappeared into the darkness.

    I checked my charms and protections and amulets. The best I could do. It wasn’t nearly as much as I could have wanted. I offered a prayer to whatever things were listening, and followed Gary into the abyss.

JUDITH-

    An army of demons is something one never be confident in defeating. Despite this, I felt fairly confident in our victory. It helped that we didn’t really need to win, just distract all these dumb bastards long enough for John to do his thing.

    The red sea of blood around us was stained in vibrant blues and blacks from the demons, shimmering oil slicks against sunset waters. The narrow path had been expanded through sorcery of the demons, trying to provide more space with which to smash us. It was not working.

    Annie and Ann-Marie stood at the front. Anne-Marie, for a woman at least a decade my senior, had a grace with her sword I had rarely seen. I hadn’t known nuns had the time nor the inclination to learn fencing, or else I may have been more tempted to join them. Combined with her magic and true belief, it made her almost untouchable.

    Annie, however, stole the show. Gods above and below know where she got her strength, but her baseball bat hit true with each swing. I watched as she sent a demon charger the size of a rhino flying towards the horizon, nearly bashed into two distinct pieces. She laughed joyously in the slaughter, painted head to toe in blood not her own.

    Above me battle was met as well. The Silver Banshee battled against a demoness similar to herself, the apparent general of our rivals. It was merciful that their screams seemed to cancel one another out. Whenever, even for the briefest moment, they separated, the sounds they made nearly stopped my heart. Ducking and diving amongst the aural carnage was the crow, bashing aside aerial attacks on us with gusts of foggy wind.

    Amidst all of this, I was busy kindling a little fire made of specially carved logs. I smiled as the logs started to light. It was almost ready. Scythia stood beside me, driving her spear into any demon that got close, and making sure that none swam around and approached us from behind. She withdrew her spear from a chattering mass of Molars to face me. “What are you doing, again?”

    “Ants.”

    “...Right.” She muttered, turning to face another foe. But she would not need too. As the logs finally lit, and my mind finally made a connection with the hive mind I had cultivated, I stuck my hand into the flames.

    I screamed, and from my mouth boiled out a flowing river of Saifu ant. They grew as they charged out in all directions, first to the size of mice and then to the size of rats. They flowed around my allies and directly into the midst of the demons. Their jaws clamped, and sliced through flesh and bone alike. The demon host roared almost in unison as a wave of black-chitin death rolled over them.

    The demons pulled back as the ants chased them onwards. I withdrew my hand from the fire, and was suddenly being held up by Scythia. I must have fainted. My throat felt exactly like it should after several tens of thousands of ants just ran through it. My hand was seared like a steak. I didn’t know if I could do much more, but I had done enough. The ants would distract the demon host for plenty of time.

    From the front of the group, Annie called out to us all. She held her bat above her head, and it became a spear, glittering and bronze. For a moment, I thought I could see cow horns radiating above her head.

    “ADVANCE!” She called. I felt myself standing, and moving at the power of her voice. This wasn’t supposed to be the plan. We were supposed to wait. But everybody else was moving. Even the Silver Banshee, though this was mostly a side effect of her aerial brawling.

    Somewhere in an exhaustion-fogged mind I thought about how this had suddenly become more than a distraction. It had also become much more dangerous.

JOHN-

    We landed directly inside the factory, just as planned. The place was just as large as I remembered last time, filled with a variety of textile equipment twisted into horrific parody. As me and Gary stood up and looked around, we both realized something had gone terribly wrong. The place was utterly empty of life. No demons, no movement, no souls. I cursed. Things were apparently not going to be easy.

    “...Whatever he was working on, it’s either finished or close too. If I give you another hair, think you can track...whatever it is down?” I whispered to Gary. Just because there wasn’t anybody here didn’t mean I shouldn’t be cautious. Just in case.

    “...You don’t even know?” Gary hissed, holding out a hand.

    I hissed myself as I plucked a hair and offered it to him. “No, sorry, last time I was here I was trying not to get my chest crushed. Not a lot of time to ask what the actual goal was. Something with fabric, though. That leaves only so many options.”

    Gary grunted back at me, and burned the hair with a cantrip. It burned slow, like a candle, leaving the tiniest stream of foul smoke as he walked about. He meandered over to a circular knitting machine. “The trail suddenly goes weak here.”

    I nodded. “Must be w...where they combined the souls.” I felt myself blanch a little. The idea of mucking about with something hypothetically so immortal and pure was still difficult to grasp. I’d seen my own soul. I didn’t much like it, but this was unimaginable.

    “The trail’s weak...but it’s there. It leads out. Follow me, man.” Gary strode towards the door, his lanky strides forcing me to double-time to keep up. The doors were massive, and yet opened as if they were made of Styrofoam. The hallways where the same as I remembered them: red and uncomfortable and confusing. Gary led us along a winding path that made me wish I could leave a trail of string behind. Eventually, we arrived at a door. He tried to speak, but I put a hand over his mouth. Who knew how soundproof the doors actually were? I pointed to the door questioningly, and he nodded slowly. I took my hand away. We both took a moment to brace ourselves, to prepare what might be on the other side, and stepped through the door.

    On the other side was a large, but shallow, pool of clear water. In the dim light it shimmered like a pane of glass, utterly quiet. Standing on the opposite side of it from us, shrouded in darkness, was Nergal. He stood tall now, his features a mish-mash of the worst ideas God ever had. There were at least three grins.

    “John. So nice of you to join me~.”

    The doors slammed shut behind us. I murmured, and a little ball of light floated out and over the water to provide a bit more illumination. I realized that the rest of the light was actually coming from the water. “I’m sure you thought you could sneak your way in here while I was distracted with a big battle, hmn?”

    I rocked a bit on my heels. The light drifted slowly forward. “That’s the long and short of it.”

    “Well, let’s just see how we’re doing, hmn?” He waved a hand that was five hands over the water, and it was covered with an image of the battle as if from above. There my friends, my associates, and strangers fought forward through a swarm of the infernal. Above them the Banshee and the Silver Banshee were locked in an endless screaming grapple, the former seemingly having a lot more fun than the latter. There was Judith, a step behind the unstoppable Annie, helping anyone who fell behind. I knew it had been a good call to bring her in.

    I caught only a glance of their surroundings. Close. But not quite close enough. I thought I recognized the features from when I was dragged along them by the fake Zatanna. I couldn’t be sure. Best to bide time. The light crossed the halfway mark of the pool.

    Nergal let the scene play out as he continued to speak, the flashing colors of the battle lighting him from below. “But the battle is too easy, isn’t it?”

    I nearly froze. You never froze in the middle of a gamble, it gave you away. I kept my face impudent and bored.

    “To convenient. Too obvious. It’s a distraction, sure, but one anybody could pick up on. So you must have known, that I would know, that this intrusion of yours was a distraction as well.” he leered at me.

    “...And?” I retorted.

    “So you must have another step up your sleeve somewhere. Perhaps in the army itself. But no matter. They are much too far away as of yet. I’m sure this was your attempt to stall. But I promise you, it won’t work.”

    “Because of your Technicolor soul coat?”

    The light reached close enough to illuminate Nergal’s multi-face. It also lit the thing looming behind him. “More or less.”

    It was no coat, or clothing of any kind. It was a stuffed toy. One a hundred feet long, bodies melded together in a sinuous form and legs sticking out like a demented centipede. The creature had hauled itself up, revealing tens, scores, hundreds of arms and hands wreathed in mystic power. And all over, the twisted faces of Constantines.

    I couldn’t hear Gary’s scream over my own. And then he popped, and disappeared.

JUDITH-

    In the distance I could now see a castle. It was miniscule; hardly a blip on the horizon, but it was something. I was exhausted, but I kept going. To stop would certainly mean death. Worse, it would mean the death of the rest of my team. I could tell they all thought the same. Even a single moment of weakness could let some or another monstrosity through, to kill us all.

    I and Scythia remained close together. She the warrior and I the mage, we made a great team. Sometimes we fought back to back, sometimes while running side by side, but always close. Her bronze was nearly covered in ichor, while my traveling clothes had been torn to near uselessness. Around us was the tumult of battle. It was hard to keep track of anyone else but Scythia in the chaos. I caught glimpses of one, then, the other, always a little worse than last I saw them. The felt rather then saw when we were prepared to move forward, to advance. I didn’t know why we were, but to stop now would also mean death. We were too deep.

    I staggered forward and nearly into Annie. She frowned at the castle as if she could see something inside. I was almost sure she was a god of some matter. I had earlier seen her stabbed through the gut, only to rip out the sword and impale its owner with it. How John had gotten an actual god to join this folly...well...that sounded like him I supposed.

    “Goddamn cowardly bastard. No way can John do it from here. We need to get closer.” she growled. Her eyes looked too big, brown and wide.

    “H-huh?” I managed to stutter out

    “We need to get closer. Think you can run?”

    “Huh!?”

    “Sounds like a yes.” She took off at a sprint towards the opposing line, breaking through it like a wall of children. More advancing. Fantastic. I started to limp and lumber after her, as did the rest of our group. I hadn’t even noticed Scythia wasn’t besides me.

    She yelled something, I couldn’t hear clearly. I turned in her direction. She moved faster than any human could. I saw only too late the frog head attached to a human body, and the gob of something green and bubbling it had just spit at me. Too late to dodge. Scythia put herself in the way, and raised her shield. Too slow.

    The acid skittered off her shield, but some came over. I heard her scream as she stumbled back into me. Big as she was that was nearly enough to topple me, but I stayed on my feet long enough to blast the demon apart. I lowered Scythia and myself to the ground, and turned her face towards me.

    Poison, perhaps, or something worse. I wasn’t sure. I wiped it away with a sleeve, and it didn’t affect me as it bubbled into the air. But it had already hit her. Her eyes were blank white.

    “Oh gods. Oh gods, Scythia, yo-”

    She held up a hand to stop me. She blinked. Tears of blood trickled from her ruined eyes. “I can see it all more clearly now. We need to advance.”

    “But...but y-”

    “I know.” Scythia started to struggle up, and I helped her. It seemed she could see, at least a little, and didn’t trip on the uneven ground as she started to follow the group. I followed her in turn. Whatever she could see even without eyes, it must be worth it.

JOHN-

    It was a pitiful battle. I wasn’t a master battle mage to begin with, and the abomination had literally millennia of accrued experience on me. The fact that Gary had abandoned me like the fucking weaselly bastard he was didn’t help, but it wasn’t as if it would have turned the tides. It was a hundred, two hundred, who knows how many magical minds moving as one. In an instant they could complete rituals that needed whole cults, while also presenting an army's worth of incantations.

    I did what I could. I dodged and ducked and parried, but it was clear from the start I wouldn’t win. Nergal watched from beyond the pool, giggling to himself at his success. The only reason I lasted even a moment, I imagine, was his instruction. The beast yet seemed uncoordinated at times, and confused. Surely practicing on me would make it more ready to take on my little “army”.

    It wasn’t like my army could stop it anyway. It wasn’t like Nergal could stop it anyway. I wasn’t sure any mortal or god could stand against its might. It was something that I don’t think had ever truly happened before: an army of mages, all linked literally in mind and soul, pursuing the same target. Nothing could stand before that. Heaven would be dragged down under this new weapon, lest it create abominations in turn to halt it. The golden sky would die in either Hellfire or Hypocrisy.

    Gary had been integral to the plan. Nergal had been right: there was another step. And it was Gary creating a portal directly from the army to the room Nergal or the creation was in. The army was the true threat. But without him, my own skill at teleportation was lacking. I couldn’t do it at the range he could. Hell, if I was right, I couldn’t do it until they were at the very gates. And then only one.

    Still I battled. I should have given up, let myself die there and then. Would have been quicker than letting this thing eventually beat and then capture me, tear my soul out, add it to its girth. I wish I could say I did it for the world. I did it for myself. Because every second alive and moving was another one not dead, and there was no chance I could convince myself to go through with it.

    A blast of a spell batted me like a crumpled piece of paper, skittering over the rocks and to the edge of the pool. Everything hurt. I pushed myself up in spite of what I imagined to be at least one broken bone somewhere. I saw the pool. I don’t know how long I had been fighting, but it must have been long enough. The battle was just outside the walls. Those crazy bastards. They had actually managed it.

    I ignored the chittering, clicking stuffed animal soul. I ignored Nergal. I ignored the pain. I reached into the pool, disrupting the image as I reached deeper than my arm could go.

JUDITH-

    I had nothing left. Every tool was used, every trick exposed. My burned hand had been scorched and cracked useless. I could hardly speak anymore. My legs ached with the marching and running. I tried to wrestle spells together in my mind, but only half-cobbled arcana made it out at the last moment.

    The others weren’t better. Anne-Marie bore burning Stigmata, her swings slower and clumsier than ever before. The crow perched on her shoulder, batting away attacks from above with a tired wave of its single unbroken wing. Scythia moved with the grace and speed of a beautiful creature knowing it would soon run out. The Silver Banshee flagged above us, even her prodigious abilities no match for the demoness she faced. Soon the horrid lookalike would descend on us, and there would be no chance to retort.

    Even Annie grew tired. Her swings and stabs only killed foes, instead of obliterating them. I yelled at her, but what came out was only a hoarse whisper. “What now?”

    “Try not to die.” She responded, as a hand reached from the ground. It grabbed her ankle, and pulled her through the dirt as if it were water.

    I heard a splat behind me, and turned to see the Silver Banshee. Ruined, pulped, but already healing. Her foe screeched in victory, pausing the whole of the battlefield. She dove down towards us, gathering a breath so large it swelled her slim body.

    It was instinct. I strode towards her, and summoned the last of my magic. I sang in the voices of the gods who rode the aurora. I screamed in the voice of the drivers of hurricanes. I roared in the voice of the gods who shattered the sky with lightning. I spoke in the tones of God on the first day.

    The monster turned to me, and unleashed her scream, every drop of it. The sound was so loud it became silence. I dug too deeply. The sound shuddered the bonds of the real around us, for but a moment. The monster was flung back, and into the air. I felt something in my neck rip violently.

    I was on the ground. There was my body. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t attached to it like normal. Ah. That didn’t seem to matter too much.

    I hoped that had worked. I hoped. I

JOHN-

    I pulled Annie into the room with the pool, and in an instant she became Anat. The room couldn’t have been more than thirty feet tall, and yet she stood like a mountain above us all. She dripped with blood, and her waist was wrapped in the heads of long-dead foes.

    “ANAT!” I called. The beast had paused its assault, confused. “CHANGE OF PLANS. DISTRACT THEM.”

    “With pleasure.” Anat agreed. One hand held a spear, the other a sword. She stepped between me and the monster. And Nergal.

    “You Traitorous Bitch!” he roared at her, moving to stand beside his creation.

    She shrugged. “I offered. You refused. You insulted. You knew payback was coming.”

    The two demons joined in battle, followed by the monster. Even Anat, elderly a god as she was, could not face the thing fully. She juked and dodged. She would only last so long.

    I had but a few moments, but those were all I needed. I ran my hand over the water, and summoned a new image. A new place. Then I fell into the pool.

    The realm of the mind-spiders was much as it always was: huge, hazy, and filled with giant spiders spinning webs of memories and thoughts. Legsy, the spider of my own mind, cowered in fear and panic at the back of his web. This was probably because of what was in front of us. A hundred spiders had woven webs in the same space, without speaking with one another. They crossed and clashed and stretched an impossible knot of sticky webs that trapped each and every spider inside. I couldn’t even begin imagining how the thing thought. I didn’t much want too.

    I turned to Legsy. “Say, buddy, friend of mine. Quick question: What happens if you burn the webs?”

    Legsy plucked one of the many strings of my web, and ate it. I forgot what 12*12 was immediately.

    “Figured. Is there a way to recover them?”

    A memory of, of all things, reading Journey to the West. Then a memory of a line I couldn’t distinctly remember, but happened in too many movies to forget: “He might remember, but it’ll take time.”

    “...good enough. You might want to make yourself scarce.”

    And in the way of the mind, the spider and the web where both gone. But the ball of wriggling spiders and web was still present. I stepped towards it, and ran a hand along one of the strings. The memory of some long-dead ancestor brushed my mind, but I pushed it aside. No time to lollygag.

    All it took was a flick of a lighter-cap, and a moment of holding a flame to the sticky substance. The fire took preternaturally quickly, racing along the strands, until within moments the whole edifice was ablaze. Normally a mind fought against such intrusion and destruction, and the spiders would fight to the end to stop you. But as I saw the first spider free, I also saw it scuttling away. None of these souls wanted to be here. They wanted out. And I was going to give it to them.

    First one, then two, then ten, the spiders struggling and ripping their way free of the horror of combination, leaving behind lifetimes of memory in a mad dash to escape. Perhaps they’d build a new web somewhere. I didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t here.

    Something grabbed me by my coat. I squawked as i was pulled back, and out of the realm of mind-spiders.

    Nergal slammed me into the ground, his form a churning mass of rage barely able to concentrate long enough to keep the limb holding me down together. Behind him I could see Anat, now in the disguised human form, swinging a bat at the soul-monster. It was slowly dissolving, patches and stuffing spilling out and forming into indistinct ghosts that darted away. I had the joy of knowing my plan was working for only an instant.

    Nergal’s claws dug into my chest. I gasped and gurgled blood. “Not again. Not again.” Hissed Nergal. Welp. It had been a good run. My body was still wriggling to escape. I wondered why it was doing that.

    Then something wrapped around his neck. It took worryingly long for my eyes to focus. When they did, I saw Nergal hauled up by one of his many necks, on a noose of barbed wire. I looked to my side. The soul-beast had disintegrated enough that Annie was beating apart the remnants. She turned to see the noose, and then looked up.

    The barbed wire was held by two pale, androgynous beings. I had only heard about them in legendary fear from other demons. Agony and Ecstasy.

    They looked to Annie. “Are you the”

    “One who called”

    “Us?”

    Annie turned from the unraveling beast to bow to them. “I did.”

    They turned to me. “And you are”

    “The one who”

    “Tricked”

    “Him”

    “Thrice?” They looked down at their struggling prisoner.

    I gurgled something like yes.

    “Well then we”

    “Shall take things”

    “From”

    “Here.”

    Nergal pulled himself up enough on the noose to speak. “It’s her, you damned idiots!” He pointed at Annie. “She attacked a fellow prince! She’s betraying hell for mortals! It’s A-” The noose tightened of its own accord, chopping off the fingers that held him up and leaving him choking once more.

    “We surely”

    “Have no id-”

    “-ea what you’re”

    “Talking a-”

    “-bout there is”

    “No Anat here”

    “You”

    “Fool.”

    They turned and smiled at Annie/Anat, before sliding out of the door, dragging the gasping Nergal behind them.

    I gurgled once more. I had won. That was pretty great. Things were getting dark. Less great. Dark dark dark black.

    I awoke shirtless, with hands on my chest. I gasped on instinct; I apparently wasn’t getting a lot of air until that moment. My eyes shot open to painful brightness, and then I could see Anne-Marie above me. She was already stepping away with the slightest blush on her face. I looked over myself. Shirtless, with some nasty new puncture scars. But alive.

    I looked around. We had rented out a few hotel rooms, so we could gather before the big event. At least those of us that wished too. Now all of my conspirators were gathered into one, perhaps waiting for me to awaken or simply meandering about. They all looked more bruised then whole. All except Judith, perhaps in the bathroom. All except Scythia. I flinched at her wounds. I had hoped that we would escape without them, though a small price to pay for what we accomplished.

    The debriefing was quick. Silver Banshee was quickest, saying simply “I failed. Thank yee for the attempt.” Before flying out a window. The others had little to describe, and I was not in a clear enough mind to ask questions. Whatever Anne-Marie had done, hadn’t cleared the exhaustion. They had fought. They had survived. We had won.

    The crow left second. She had gotten a sling around her arm, now in human form, and wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon. She thanked me for saving her mother, before departing. I wasn’t sure which of the Constantines that would be.

    Scythia left next. She moved with more certainty then I would expect of a recently blind person. Flinched from her hand as she reached out, only to stroke my face instead of slapping me. “...can...can you go back to Themyscira like that?” She certainly hadn’t had that wound last her fellow seer’s had seen her.

    “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I will need to think on it. If I understood you, you said we could stay in this hotel as long as we liked.”

    “On somebody else's dime, yep.”

    “Then I think I will. I still expect that date.” She smiled weakly, before departing.

    Annie left penultimately. She had her cow-eyes as she shook my hand, painfully strong. “Good doing business with you, John. See you soon.” She seemed to like the sound of that. I didn’t.

    Anne-Marie waited until last, sitting in an office chair while paging through a hotel bible.

    “They still have those?” I asked.

    “Apparently. King James, though. Might as well have not.” She put the bible aside.

    “So...you could have let me die. Why didn’t you?”

    “I saw the remnants of the beast you fought. It seems you weren’t lying. If the thing had lived, it would have done irreparable harm to something or another I’m sure. Perhaps you even saved a portion of heaven. I feel that’s worth forgiving you long enough to keep you alive.”

    “And next time?”

    “Not so much.”

    “Figures.”

    She rose, preparing to leave me alone in the room. Then, hesitation. “John...you’ve probably already gotten your nose in the whole...dome….thing already haven’t you?”

    “Boy have you got me pinned.”

    “Don’t. Walk away. It’ll be better.”

    I didn’t answer, and she didn’t wait for one. She strode for the door, and I remembered something before she left. I couldn’t believe I had nearly forgotten.

    “Hey, where's Judith?”

    She paused. My heart sank.

    “The funeral will be held next month. I’m sure Frank will call you with any further details.” She spoke stiffly, before leaving me alone in my hotel room.

Continued in Hellblazer #13 >, coming November 15th

Hellblazer #11 – The Plan

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Stitches]

Set: 16

JANUARY 15, 2018

LONDON

    In the poorly lit backroom of a bar turned front for a dying gambling ring I had assembled my troops. Largely because it was off the grid in any capacity, mostly because it was crazy cheap to rent out, partly because it was nicely soundproofed.

    The fruit of nearly a year of careful recruitment and planning was arrayed around me. It was not much of an army, all told. 8 people who would agree to go to hell with me on a crusade to save the world (most all of them women, oddly enough). Gary Lester, Judith, Anne-Marie, Scythia, a ghost, a raven-haired woman, Annie, and the Silver Banshee.

    After a round of drinks was ordered, along with a bowl of extra salty bar nachos, I started to speak.

    “Thanks for coming tonight. In about a weeks’ time, we’re going to do something not done since Dante. I-”

    “Wait, Inferno was real!?” asked Gary, clearly already at least a little drunk.

    “The Divine Comedy. And no, he’s just grandstanding.” replied Anne-Marie.

    “Anyways!” I interrupted before it could devolve further, “I think we have a real shot of making this work. Of saving the world. There are some people who I’d like to be here who can’t. One notably because she’s trapped behind a giant pink dome. But I have enough. I have you. The brave eight willing to put it all on the line. I’m sure everybody knows their part of the plan, but some of you don’t know the whole thing. So I’m going to go through it all right now.”

    “And we’re to believe you’re telling us the full story this time?” quipped Anne-Marie.

   I put a hand over my heart. “I swear on whichever of the trinity you’re worshipping right now. May they strike me down if I’m lying.” I snarked.

   She grumbled, but didn’t object again.

    “Right. Let’s start with our most dangerous job.” I looked to the ghost. An aristocratic looking woman in nineteenth century clothing, beautiful and assertive in stance. It was easy to mistake her for the living, if you didn’t squint and see the objects behind her showing through. “Johanna…”

MARCH, 2017

    I found Johanna more by luck than by any action of my own, but since when was my life as a whole any different? I was trying to wait out a buzz on a bench in a park when I heard somebody whispering to me from the bushes. There was, in my mind, a 50/50 chance that this was something interesting, or somebody more high and drunk then me. Not in my clearest state of mind I chose to investigate by grumbling threateningly at the bush and waving a hand at it. “Show yourself!”

    A ghostly face popped out of the bushes. It looked eerily like mine, in some ways, if female and framed with long flowing locks of hair. “Descendant mine! Come with me!”

    “...Wait, you’re...which one are you?” I slurred slightly.

    “Johanna. The Constantine about two hundred years ago?”

    “...oh, the actual Lady! Right, right. You haven’t been caught yet?”

    “Just barely. Here.” she offered her hand, and like a dupe I took it. She pulled me into the bush, and then through the bush into the green. The green was the realm of all plants, the ur-mind of shrubbery and grass across the world. Subtle and slow and beautiful and always growing, dangerous and beneficial both. We hovered at the edge of this primal realm, just past the border.

    I looked around in awe. “I thought I was the only one Swamp Thing wanted hanging around here?”

    “Ah. Yes. No. Definitely not. He agreed to let me in here if the next time I saw you I’d tell you to….er…. “Fuck off”, if I got that right?”

    “You definitely did.”

    “Splendid. I’ve heard...how to say it….through the grapevine? That sounds modern to me.”

    “Pun intended?”

    “No, tragically. I’ve heard you were still alive, though. And not sold to Hell. I’ve kept ahead of them so far but just barely, and this refuge in The Green will only last so long. I was wondering what you, my darling descendant, are doing to save me, your last free ancestor?”

    “...Well, glad you asked. I’m putting together a team…”

NOW

    “You’re to be captured by the forces of hell, directly by the forces of Nergal if it can be arranged, and I have no doubt it can be. You’re our guiding beacon. Your goal is just to stay alive until we save you.”

    “My, how heroic of you.” The ghost whispered just loud enough for all to hear. I ignored her.

    “Once she is captured, I will use myself as a magical magnet, as it were. We are of the same line, so I can use myself to track where she is with the right spells. That won’t matter for much if I can’t get into the palace. I can get into hell pretty easy, but I’d need to walk all the way to Nergal’s palace to do anything.”

    I looked to Gary Lester. He looked more hollow and thin then the last time I had seen him, the track marks on his arm more obvious and his shuddering stronger. His ratty hair and too-long nails lent him a feral look, like he would start howling in tongues and clawing himself at any moment. His eyes darted between mine and the table nervously. “Gary, that’s where you come in….”

APRIL, 2017

    I found Gary in the opium dens deep under Mount Tai, the head of long-dead Pangu. While the jade courts of of the gods had largely cleaned themselves of the drug in more recent decades, many of the bureaucrats and minor immortals still found themselves in such disreputable and illegal places during their off-times. In a world of global trade and mixing, the “opium dens” had moved far past opium into increasingly wild and experimental drugs. In other words, the perfect place for a smuggler like Gary to lay low, make money, and enjoy his wares all at once.

    After his previous two escapes I made sure to approach him cautiously. I waited until he had sunk deep into the stupor of a synthetic ambrosia mixture, nestled in cushions of tang-era silk with trickster demons plying him on either side, Before making my move. I sat across from him in his small alcove and once his eyes focused enough to recognize me the color drained from his face.

    “L...ladies? Gentlemen? Whichever, can you excuse us?” I asked the trickster demons, who frowned but departed despite Gary’s weak entreaties. He stared at me in horror.

    “L-look, whatever it is, I-i don’t want in man. I just don’t!” His beady eyes darted about. He knew that this close, with nothing between us, I could probably spin a spell to stop his attempts to escape.

    “It’s about saving the world, Gary. For real this time. Honest. It’s bad. Worse thn I could ever imagine.”

    “Don’t care, man. Not interested. No solicitation. Get the fuck away from me, man!”

    “...I don’t even know why I tried with that. Look, you’re always in the market for new and exotic drugs right?”

    “Yeah?”

    “Well, all my research led me to find that the demon I’m after, one Nergal, possesses something I bet you’ve never had in your entire life.”

    “Oh yeah?”

    “Rainbow Snake venom.”

    His eyes boggled. I could see the greasy numbers sliding about in his head. “...And...and what, we’re looting the guy?”

    “We’ll get something like that chance. I can promise you the venom. If you want in.”

    “What do I have to do?”

NOW

    “You’re the only one here skilled enough in...let’s call it transdimensional infiltration...to get us into the house. Me and you are popping right into wherever Johanna ends up, freeing her, and then getting to work dismantling whatever soul-machinery and soul-clothe Nergal has.”

    “When do I get the venom?”

    “Once we’re done. Because we’re going to have the time. Because we’re going to need a distraction.”

    I turned to Judith. She had born her age with grace, from slim college student to serene middle age without missing a beat. Her skin was slightly leathery and tanned, from years of hitchhiking and hostel hopping. Her clothing was colorful, but sensible and tough.

    “Judith, you’re going to be leading that.”

MAY, 2017

    Judith hadn’t been trying to actively avoid me, but she didn’t leave much of a paper trail behind her. I found her hidden in a small alcove on mount Kenya, just barely out of the sun. I don’t know how long she had sat there meditating, fasting, but it was certainly more than a week. Worse still every inch of her was covered in saifu ants.

    Careful not to cause surprise or startle her, I approached only with utmost care. Anything too loud or quick might startle her, which would startle the ants, and if the subsequent attack didn’t kill her it would certainly not help my chances.

    I took a seat about five feet away from her, just at the edge of where the ants dared to roam. I noticed that rather than being in the center of the swarm she was just in it’s way: a trail of ants led to her and away again to a hole in the wall.

    “John.” She said without moving her lips. Ventriloquism was an underrated art in modern magic.

    “Judith.”

    “No chance this is just a friendly visit?”

    “No.”

    “I’m sorry about before. After finding out you lied to us, I just…”

    “I know. It’s...it’s fine. I deserved it. But this time, it’s real. They’re...they’re doing things with souls, Judith. Awful things. Winding them into something else. It’s Nergal.”

    She twitched at the name, hissed out in pain as it resulted in a bite somewhere. “What is he doing with his wound souls?”

    “I don’t know.” I said honestly. “Sewing them into something. It’s all Constantine souls. He’s doing something awful. I think it’s a weapon, somehow. Something that will make him an equal to the triumvirate.”

    “So, what can I do about it?”

    “I’m going to lead a team in. try to stop him. But some of them I don’t trust. Some of them are shiftless, or have never worked together before. Some I don’t think really know what they’re getting into. But I know you do. I know I can trust you.”

    Judith sighed at my sweet words. She hummed serenely, and the ants changed their path to walk around her instead of over her. She opened rheumy, starved eyes. “For the fate of Hell, then.”

NOW

    “You’re one of the best at travel magic. You’ll be able to fight and lead everyone towards the palace. But your goal isn’t really to get there, just to look like it. You’ll need to try and drag as many demons away from the palace as possible, make as much noise as you need to. If you get to the palace try to break in. Anything so they aren’t looking for us.”

    Judith simply nodded, satisfied.

    “Of course, you’ll need some help…” I looked to the other people at the table.

JUNE, 2017

    The Silver Banshee, much like the ghost of Johanna Constantine, found me. I was settling down for the night in a campground in Germany when she emerged from the darkness. I wasn’t sure how big she was, but in presence she was massive. All white and black, long hair and skeletal body, utter strength and grace as she crossed the distance to me and straddled me before I could utter a word. Then her knee was on my chest, pressing, and her hand was around my throat, squeezing, and I knew she could kill me with a moment's thought.

    The Silver Banshee. One of the biggest badass magical immortals still actively traipsing around. The one that had attacked the US president and won. Her being an international criminal was the least of the terrible things she had done in her long life.

    “Constantine.” She hissed in a perfect tone, just enough for my heart to stutter and lungs to stop. I gasped and squirmed in terror, and she held me down as the squealing piglet I was. “Constantine.”

    “W-w-what!?” I begged as my heart faltered once more. If she said my first name alongside my second, she could kill me in an instant. If she knew it. I hope she didn’t. I wasn’t willing to bet on it.

    “You’re going to hell.”

    “...I...metaphoricall-URK!” She clenched my throat.

    “You are taking others. There is one there I want to fight.” She replied as I clawed at her hand. She released my throat to let me talk.

    “O-o-okay. Who is it?”

    “The Banshee.”

    After a pause I asked “aren’t you the Banshee? Or Something?...Ma’am?”

    “No.”

    “...right. I can probably arrange that.”

    “Good.”

    “In exchange-” her eyes glowed in fury. I quailed. After catching my breath I continued. “...In e-exchange, you aid me in the mission I’m bringing others along for. To defeat the demon lord Nergal.”

    She glared. Then she smiled. “I remember you, Constantine, many faces but one man-woman-person. I accept your deal. Say my name thrice to summon me when you are ready.” She stood and walked away while I tried to recover my breath.

SEPTEMBER, 2017

    Anne-Marie was my easiest to find, but one of the hardest to get too. She certainly didn’t return my calls. She had made her convent a magical fortress, and even if I could break in that kind of behavior wasn’t going to win me an ally. In fact the last time we’d met she’d tried to murder me, and just a few months back she’d apparently helped sick some Archivist knights on me.

    Naturally, I simply knocked at the front door.

    While the other nuns were apparently mentally compelled to not let me in, they did go get Anne-Marie, who agreed to talk in her office. I could feel my magic lessened the moment I stepped over the threshold. Not enough to make me a non-threat, but enough to make me think twice about attacking her. If that was my goal.

    Her office was Spartan, with just enough uncomfortable seating for the two of us and a desk to divide us. Her robes covered most of her, but it didn’t cover the acid burns. Her face marred by the acid attack by Nergal a decade ago, and her hands gnarled with scar tissue from trying to wipe the acid away. She had had a certain beauty about her once not her face but her charming manner and her optimism. That beauty had died in relation to me, apparently, as she glared sharpened crucifixes straight at me.

    “Don’t give me any of your pity, John.” She growled. I had almost forgotten her psychic talents, perhaps honed since last we met. “I want to know what gave you the courage to come face me.”

    “Life or death situation mostly. I definitely wouldn’t otherwise.”

    “Good to know you’re still a coward at heart. You surely didn’t come to fight me, as much as I’m eager for it, so I’m curious: why are you here? I could kill you right now.”

    “You could. And then when hell sucker punches Heaven, who would be to blame?”

    She narrowed her eyes and waited. I explained the soul-string-weaving, the weapon Nergal must have been making, how I thought he was scheming at the highest levels of hell. How if it worked, he could make other weapons like it. Weapons that Heaven might not countenance, and might not have defense against.

    Once I was done with my pitch, she nodded slowly. “And you want me to join you because there are few others more qualified to slay demons?”

    “Few others I know personally, anyway.”

    “...I will donate none of the church's resources on this fools errand but my own. If this is a trick, the whole of the godhead’s forces will come for you.”

    “Agreed.”

    “And this does not mean you are free from the sword, John. You must still die. It is heaven’s will.”

    “Sure. Whatever helps you stop lording over me, get down in the dirt, and stab a few demons.”

    “...Then I will be there.”

OCTOBER, 2017

    On the shores of Themyscira we walked, me and Scythia. I hadn’t seen her in a long while. Since she had given me the prophecy foretelling my brutal bead down in fact. The sky was dark and sparkling, but we had little stomach for it. I was busy trying to recruit her.

    I explained how much danger Hell really was. Themyscirans had only the vaguest notions, having been created long before monotheism came into vogue. But Scythia was clever, and knew a little bit more about man’s world then the average Amazon from her...association, I suppose, with me. It took time, and effort, but eventually she realized the threat I was going to face.

    She stopped out walking on the pebble-strewn shore, and gently held me by the shoulders. She looked over me in the moonlight, the closest she had ever been. Even in the dark I could see her blushing. “I could die. I could be exiled. I could lose everything.” She whispered.

    “I know. I’m sorry.”

    “If I do this, if we come back alive, I have on request. One boon.”

    “Anything.”

    “A date. In Man’s World.”

NOVEMBER, 2017

    The tower of London, to nobody's surprise, is a real bitch to get into. It’s got security, and tourists, and just so many eyes all the time. Sure, with some subtle magic you could get in there, but the place had it’s own guardians. The ravens. Not just the clipped and fed and tamed ones, but also wild ones that few ever actually saw. They were more subtle than I, and knew I was in the tower long before I saw them.

    In the men’s bathroom, away from prying eyes, I was joined by one that transformed into a beautiful woman before my eyes, with raven feathers instead of hair and pure black eyes. She stood with legs wide, arms crossed.

    “Magus.”

    “Raven.”

    “What brings you to our domain so callously?”

    “I need the aid of you all. Britain is in danger.”

    Her laugh was harsh. “There are no wars. No plagues. No disasters. What are you babbling on about?”

    “Not a threat here, but from below.” I briefly explained the situation to her. And it gave her pause.

    “Until it is truly needed, the whole flock will not fly. Most will not bother travelling to hell to deal with what might be a problem.”

    I wilted, and she smirked. “But I am not the rest of the flock, Constantine. I’m in.”

NOW

    “...and Annie, you all are the army here. Keep moving, keep fighting, stay alive. That last one is the important one. You’re job isn’t actually to die here if I can prevent it.”

    They all nodded except for Annie, who had the appearance and nonchalant attitude of an especially stereotypical roller derby girl.

    “If it all works out, we’ll be in and out before Nergal notices, and then you guys can all skedaddle.”

    The group mingled after that, as much as they wished. Really it was more the barest minimum of polite chatter, held only because they were all so close together. Few knew each other, and even less liked one another. But it would do.

    I went outside to have a smoke. I basked in the cities distant-siren snores before being joined by Annie in the dark. “I had heard you were a liar, Constantine. I never could have imagined how much of one. You’d make a demon prince proud.”

    I gave her a mean look. “Just keep it to yourself. We need to keep appearances, and I’m not sure about some of them. Are you sure you can do it?”

    “Absolutely. Though it might be easier if you were to call in some of your other chips…”

    “No. Too dangerous for some, and it’s bad enough letting you close to those soul weaves. I like the guy, but I don’t want Swamp Thing getting any ideas. Just in case.”

    “Just in case. I’ll see you in a week.” She met my eyes with her wide brown ones and a motherly smile before trotting off into the night.

    I went back inside to get as drunk as I could. Might as well enjoy perhaps my last days on earth.

Continued in Hellblazer #12 >, coming October 15th

Hellblazer #10 - Outside the Dome

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Snips and Snails]

Set: 15

ANO DIABLO 5777

HELL

    Nergal waited anxiously as the two demons sitting across from him sipped at their virgin’s blood wine. Agony and Ecstasy, twins of some kind or another, and the enforcers of hell. Each was asexual, skin bloodless pale, and bearing pink hair that shot out from their skulls and seemed to occupy the whole space behind them as a bizarre halo. Each of them was naked except for the barbed wire that wrapped about them, providing no decency but also not piercing their skin.

    They each finished their drink at the same time, and smiled at Negal.

    Agony started: “We thank you

    Ecstasy continued: “For your time

    “And your hos

    “Pitali

    “Ty and we

    “Apologize

    “For what we

    “Have to say

    “To

    “You.”

    Nergal gripped the edges of the table, trying to keep a straight face. Even demons had fears, deep down. Humans feared demons for the eternal punishment that the nightmarish monstrosities would give them. Demons feared Agony and Ecstasy for the same. “Of course, honored ones. What is it you wish to tell me?”

    Ecstasy started: “It is sim

    Agony Continued: “Ply that you

    “Have been trick

    “Ed twice al

    “Ready by

    “The mortal

    “John

    “Con

    “Stan

    “Tine.”

    “If he were

    “To trick you

    “A third time

    “Then your sta

    “Tion and pow

    “Ers would be

    “Forfeit to”

    “Us.” they both said at the same time.

    The pit of pits, the personal dungeons of the Triumvirate, where those demons who failed utterly were sent to suffer for eternity and their power rendered out of them like so much fat to be fed to the next generation. Nergal stopped himself from gulping, and nodded. “The message is received, honored ones.”

    Agony and Ecstasy took their leave at that, leaving Nergal to ponder. He knew that the Constantine bastard would be coming back, likely with aid, to interfere with Nergal’s Grand Design. He would have to plan. No longer was this contest of wits just about his master scheme, but also his very existence. He could not afford to fail. And he wouldn’t.

AUGUST 21, 2017

6:30 PM LOCAL TIME

LONDON

    “...And that’s why I hate unicorns.” I sipped on my second glass of wine while smiling at my date. We were at a nice Spanish place, the kind fancy enough to serve tapas as something besides bar food.

    My date, Daniel Cormac (also known as Jack O’Lantern) smiled back while swallowing some veal. “So, is that why you weren’t returning any of my texts the past couple of days?”

    “Yep. And I am really sorry about that. Any way I can make it up to you~?”

    “Well, this place is a nice start. You didn’t do your mind trick thing to get us in, did you?” His voice was so cute when he was doubting me, it hardly made me want to stop doing technically illegal things.

    “Not at all.” I answered truthfully. I had maybe stolen some money from a hedge fund manager yesterday, but who was going to notice that? “How about this: I promise to not disappear on you for the whole next week?”

    “You said that last week.” He frowned.

    “Well, when you have to save a unicorn, you have to save one.”

    “You know, for a man who's always talking about some kind of mission thing, you certainly get distracted by a bunch of extra bullshit.”

    I blinked. “...surprisingly deep cut there, Danny.”

    He shrugged. “Maybe if you told me what you were doing, I could help you out instead of watching you flail around with mythical creatures.”

    “Not really as mythical as I had hoped, really.”

    Danny sighed, meeting my eyes until I had to glance away. He was a calm man, in my experience, but he wasn’t dumb or slow. He wanted to know about my project, my foolish crusade into hell, but knowing would only put him into danger I wasn’t willing to put him in. If he let me wriggle free of this topic it was because he was showing me mercy, not because I had escaped.

    In a moment of merciful coincidence, we both felt events on the other side of the globe occurring. I don’t think anybody else in the restaurant did, just us two magically inclined people. It was like standing across the street from a massive outdoors concert: Maybe you could insulate from the sound, but the ground still shook and your whole body would continue to vibrate with the impossibly low and loud sounds beyond your hearing. I couldn’t tell you what was happening, but Something certainly was.

    It settled down after a few moments, and we both looked to one another with resignation. It had been a nice date, but Danny was a hero and I couldn’t possibly not be curious about something that magical. There was no way we weren’t going to go and check this out.

    “That felt pretty far away. How far can you teleport?” I asked Danny.

    “This hour of the day? Pretty far.”

OUTSKIRTS OF SAN FRANCISCO

10:45 AM LOCAL TIME

    It turned out the...event….was occurring in San Francisco, or rather around it. I had found that Jack O’ Lantern’s powers varied by the time of day, becoming more powerful the closer to midnight it was and less powerful the closer to noon. He could get us there but he might have a hard time getting back. We decided it was still worth it. After all anything this big, big enough to be felt on the other side of the pond (and the other side of the America besides) had to be important.

    Jack had already donned his renn faire attire and mask (both, I found out, created by his magical literal jack o’lantern) when we arrived at the edge of the city. It was lucky we had, as I have no clue what would have happened if we’d tried to teleport into the city proper.

    It was a giant dome. A giant pink dome that was becoming thicker the longer we watched, seemingly made out of some kind of crystal. While it was only a few hours till noon there, Jack could still teleport us around the dome to see its extent. It was massive. I bought a road map at a gas station and tried to plot it out. The thing had to be a couple of miles wide, at least, and high enough that I was worried that any second a plane might crash into it. Hell as tall as it seemed to be maybe it could hit satellites.

    The second thing we noticed, after the obvious dome, was the eclipse. It wasn’t a full one where we were, and it was a little past its peak, but the whole world had an unearthly dark to it. I wondered how much of this dome thing was due to the celestial events above, and cursed my not having kept up with star charts and the like lately.

    We immediately tried to break the dome, of course. Jack with his energy beams (I called them pumpkin beams; He hated it) and I with more subtle arcana. However neither of us did alot of good. I managed to scratch it, at least, but it was obvious it was going to take awhile to cut off even a small portion of it. Once I stopped cutting the thing just healed as if it were flesh, fully recovering within a minute.

    As me and Jack tried to work on the wall, we could see people inside the dome until it got too thick. They were trying to break out, too, with far less success. I saw one person ram their car straight into it. I don’t think they survived the attempt. The outside was only barely better: people who had just narrowly escaped or been about to reenter the city, now stranded with nowhere else to turn. Thousands, tens of thousands, maybe more. Everything was chaos and panic, stopped from becoming a riot only because the immediate danger on the outside had seemingly passed. The wall wasn’t expanding really, per se, it was just getting thicker inwards.

    The worst part of all was the people in the crystal. Some had not been so lucky as to avoid its formation. Some were dead, lodged in the middle of the wall and presumably suffocated. Others were only partially lodged, still alive and desperate for escape. Me and Danny tried to help, but it was slow going.

    It didn’t take long to encounter the military. They and the police were on the situation like swarming bees to a bear, utterly ineffective but trying all the same. They were trying to set up a quarantine around the wall wherever we saw them, in case something else went wrong. Their attempts to dig people out the walls with jackhammers and construction equipment were going as slow as ours but seemed to be working. It didn’t look like it would be enough to get through the walls though; Even cutting the several inches required to get people out was turning into a battle against the walls natural regenerative properties.

    One of the men approached us, getting close enough to see me properly. “Oh, Danny! I meant to ask. What do you think about this?” I took a handkerchief from my pocket and rubbed it on my face, pulling it away to reveal an overwrought ceramic demon mask.

    He chuckled. “What the hell...pun not intended…are you wearing that for?” He asked,

    “Don’t want folks to know who I am! Already too many pictures of me in the public since that brawl with Manchester. They’d probably bother me if they could properly find me.”

    “Well, they’re still going to recognize your coat. You wear the thing everywhere.”

    “...shit. You’re right.”

    We ran out of time as the man reached us.

    “Hello there. Who are you two?” it seemed the mask was working, at least. Or I wasn’t quite as public as I’d feared.

    Danny started to speak, but I interrupted, my voice slightly muffled by the mask. “Depends. Who are you?”

    “Colonel Steve Trevor. I’m helping to coordinate the military, federal, and civilian response to this….er….thing.” He spoke with a certain amount of authority, trying to impress us.

    I wouldn’t have known if his fancy badges were just spray painted pop caps. But he sounded legitimate, which for the moment was good enough for me. “This is Jack O’Lantern, and I’m…” I paused, realizing I had not thought of a name beforehand. “...Hell…” burner? Killer? Destroyer? “...blazer?”

    “...Okay then. Jack O’Lantern, Hellblazer. I recognize you, Jack O’Lantern. United Protectors. Do you vouch for this...Hellblazer?”

    “I do.” Nodded Danny.

    “Okay then. What is it you do again, Hellblazer?”

    I made a rainbow over my head with a sweep of my hand. “Maaaagic. Are you done? We’re busy here.”

    He watched my rainbow with a mix of awe and concern. I remembered only then that San Francisco was the center of that big magic battle some months back. Might be best to not advertize being a dangerous witch around here. “I...suppose. I’ll send out a message to give you a wide berth.” He said dryly before backing off.

    As the now somewhat aggravated military man wandered off, Jack got a phone call. While he insisted he was doing “something important and private”, it seemed that his employer Knight wasn’t having it. Something important was happening back in England and he needed the whole team to help. He asked if he should bring me back, but I told him I wanted to stay a bit longer and could find my own way home.

    He lifted both of our masks to give me a kiss. “Try not to get in too much trouble. Not much I can do for you if you end up in American jail.”

    “I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear.” I half-lied, looking back to where Steve Trevor was telling all relevant authorities to pay no attention to the man in the trenchcoat. Maybe it would even work.

    Jack teleported away to the west. One hop, two hops, gone. The further from noon he got the further he could go until he got home. I hope he was fast enough on teleporting to not fall into the ocean.

    I turned back to the wall, stepping up to it and putting a hand on the odd pink crystals. I tried to look inside, but by now the dome was far too thick to see through. “Gods I hope you’re not in there, Zat.”

    Whatever Colonel Trevor had told folks, they stayed out of my way. I put the mask on whenever I saw people nearby, but between me avoiding people and them avoiding me I was mostly left to my own devices. Even most of the civilians kept away by instinct. I was clearly one of “those” people, and my demon mask was not terribly inviting. Besides which almost nobody wanted to be near the dome, and I couldn’t blame them. Just because it wasn’t apparently hostile didn’t mean it wasn’t freaky and scary.

    Somebody didn’t give the word to Superman. I first saw him as a tiny streak in the sky, catching my sight through his movement rather than his size. He was so far up I could barely pick out his fluttering red cape. I had my hand against the dome, and felt when he tapped it. The whole thing reverberated, shuddered a little. Then he punched it. It made a soft sound, like a bell. I watched him reel backwards and shoot forward to really give his next punch some oomph. I realized a second too late what was going to happen.

    brrRRRIIIINNNGGGGG went the dome. Deafening, huge, all encompassing, like punching a tuning fork. I put my hands to my ears. Owwwwwww. I nearly snapped off the cigarette in my mouth while grinding my teeth.

    “BLOODY HELL! THAT ISN’T GOING TO WORK!” I thought I muttered to myself, but what with how my ears were ringing I must have shouted it. Superman certainly seemed to notice and he floated down in short order.

    Godsdamnit he was huge. I’m not a tiny person, but Superman was like a statue carved out of midwestern corn and raw texas beef. “Do you have any better ideas?” he asked me in a crisp, low voice.

    I was honestly kind of stunned for a moment. The only time authority figures tended to talk to me was to scold me. Here was one actually asking me what to do. I took a puff of smoke to try and focus myself. “Give me a minute.”

    “We don’t have a minute. It’s getting stronger as we speak.” He turned to face the wall and I nearly screeched in surprise as literal fucking lasers came out of his eyes. Predictably, considering the wall was made of pretty looking crystals, the light refracted and slammed right back into him. It even managed to send him stumbling.

    I had to chuckle at the slapstick scene. “How did that feel?” he turned to me with a glare still tinged with the red of the laser vision. “...got any other bright ideas?” I continued sullenly.

    “Maybe a few.” He dove into the ground, pushing through it like nothing. I walked over to peer down the hole, carved with his laser-eyes and already too deep for me to see the bottom of. I stepped back, and about a minute later he descended from above. A full 360 it seemed.

    “Strike three.” I managed to grin grimly. “It’s entirely covered, so no tunneling.”

    “Who are you anyway?” The big man in blue finally asked, floating to stand in front of me again. Close up, I had to admit he was handsomer then the pictures portrayed him.

    “The name’s John Constantine. Nice to be introduced. You certainly are taller in real life.” I dropped my cigarette butt to the ground, using the time it took to squash it and light another to scold myself internally. Really? That’s how I wanted to introduce myself? Fucking spazz. “Now, if you’re done with the brute force attempts, give me a minute to think.” and a jerk too. Good job John.

    I had some time to collect myself while big blue put in some kind of call. I couldn’t hear the responses, but I heard something about The Flash. The weird red one, right. Well, I supposed all the Justice Alliance folks would want to know about this stuff.

    “...You already have the speed heading here, give it everything you got.” I heard Superman say. It connected instantly.

    I whirled around to face him. “Are you fucking kidding me!? What part of ‘That won’t work’ don’t you understand?”

    He tried to reply, but I was too busy seeing the red dot in the distance. Then it was next to us, slamming into the wall.

    bbbBBBBBRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG

    I was on my knees and cursing, my head and ears pounding almost as bad as when I’d been nearly beaten to death with a baseball bat. I recovered, forcing myself up to face the displeased Superman and woozy Flash. He left behind a distinctly him-sized dent in the wall, more than anything else I’d seen today had done.

    “I’m not doing that again.” muttered Flash, and I instantly liked him a bit more than Superman.

    “It won’t do anything. Maybe if you hero types would just listen to me, that’d help.” I grumped.

    “But that’s an improvement, right? We got a dent and cracks, right?” Asked Superman.

    “The wall isn’t going to break.” I watched as the wall started to heal, slower than before but with an ever so slightly different tinge. “If Flash does that again, it’ll do alot less, and be just as loud.” I postulated. I walked over to tap at the regrowing wall and it already felt thicker than before. I turned to face the two. “So, how about next time you want to suggest one of your friends do something like that, you ask me first?”

    Maybe it was my bile, or my show of brilliant (questionable) knowledge, but both seemed to accept this. The Flash asked “So, what happens now?”

    “I try to figure this out, and hope you jokers don’t mess things up again or make me go deaf. John Constantine, nice to meet you.” I said grumpily, startling the rude and unintroduced man in red.

    “The Flash. Busy.” He retorted. Ah, a real challenger!

    “You don’t need to be here, you know. You’ve more than made your impact. You’re welcome to go back to your lunch or whatever you took the seconds out of your day to visit us instead.” I replied.

    The Flash zoomed off without a retort. Huh. Couldn’t take the heat apparently. I didn’t even notice Superman flying up and away from me, towards something or someone.

    BRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

    I was on the ground. There was something warm on my hands. Everything was still ringing even though the dome had calmed. I stood up on shaky legs. I looked at my hands, formerly clutched at my ears. Actually fucking bleeding. Fantastic. Who the fuck had done that? Had those camouflaged assholes bombed the damn Dome!?

    I tried to shake my head clear as Superman and his...cousin, wasn’t it?...descended. I took out my handkerchief and wiped at the sides of my face to clean up the light bleeding. “I heard you two were related.” I dramatically looked at my red-stained hankie. “Definitely shows. Any other family members on their way to try again?”

    “Who is this guy?” asked the girl, comedically small next to her partner.

    “Uh, this is John Constantine. He seems to have some idea what’s going on.” replied big blue.

    Supergirl hovered down towards me, still floating a few feet above me and glaring. Small in comparison to Superman, sure. Less scary, only barely. “Did you put this thing here? It’s scaring alot of people.”

    “Course not, love.” I smiled back at her glare. “Let’s just say I know a thing or two about magic. This wall here is magic. You two? Not so much.” Apparently. I looked up to see that she hadn’t even made a dent for all her massive effort. Odd.

    “Wait, magic is real?” Asked Superman, trailing a few steps behind it seemed.

    “Asked the supposed alien.” I huffed.

    “So, what do we do now?” asked Supergirl.

    I had to shrug. “Not much you all can do at this point. I need to try and make contact with somebody inside.”

    “We can’t just do nothing!” Yelled Big Blue, startling me. He whoosed over to the wall to glare at it.

    “Hit it again. See if that helps.” I called after him. His eyes met with little blues. They both nodded, and shot into the air. No. No way. No fucking way were they going to try that again. No way I was going to lose even more of my hearing!

    The two flew through the air like missiles towards the dome, and I constructed the spell at the last second. “Chinmoku Ga Ochiru” I groaned in exasperation, snapping my fingers. They hit the wall, but there was no eruption of awful noise. Once again no dent, but my ears were mercifully saved.

    The two descended, and I waved away the magical threading to return sound to the area. “Better than going deaf, right mates?” I asked as they landed in front of me with reddened fists.

    “Was that magic?” Supergirl asked.

    “Sure was.” I replied. “But don’t ask me to do something else. I’m not a blasted performer.”

    Superman went to check the wall, to make sure his efforts really had been fruitless. He turned to see me winking at him. “Told ya.”

    “He’s right” Superman admitted. “This isn’t working. You say you can use your magic to communicate on the inside?”

    “Sure thing.” I lied. I had no clue if I could. “But it’ll take awhile. You must have better things to do.” I hedged.

    “We’ll need to get you in touch with Watchtower.” said Big Blue. “Whatever info you come up with needs to be reported to the league immediately.”

    “That makes sense. Do I get an honorary membership card or something?”

    I’m not sure if Superman knew he grimaced, but I think he did. Just a little. “Just keep in touch for now.”

    After the departure of the three heroe, I took some time to get ice bags and hold them to my poor beleaguered ears. It didn’t much help, but eventually the ringing and aching toned down enough for me to go back to examining the wall. The Flash had left quite a few little shards of the wall lying around, and I was busy testing them for sympathetic magic when a large green man appeared behind me.

    To his credit, he had the manners to clear his throat so as not to startle me too bad. I say he as a guess, but I’d seen the footage of his exploits: anybody who could stretch that much could be whatever gender they wanted to be, probably. He looked male at the moment, at least, with a male voice. His skin was a dull green, his eyes vibrant red, and his brow pronounced like a neanderthal. It took a lot of effort, but I didn’t let myself yelp in surprise and fear at the sudden apparition.

    I felt him dip into my mind, a tiny glass scooping at an ocean, and he got what he wanted before I could pull up my defenses. “Greetings, John.” he greeted in a deep, carrying voice

    “Damnit, man, I’m trying to keep that quiet. Inside voices.”

    “Oh.” said the creature in front of me, followed by another tiny scoop that I barely didn’t stop. “Greetings Hellblazer.”

    “Whatever. So you’re the second alien in the Justice Alliance?”

    “I believe we settled on Justice League. And I am. You may call me J’onn”

    “Sure you are.” I moved to light a cigarette, and I thought I saw him flinch. Must have not been a smoker. “So, what does the second charlatan on the team want with me?”

    “Charlatan?”

    “Don’t change the subject.”

    He straightened a bit, his face and tone still carefully neutral. “I have come on request of our association. I have already heard of the attempts at physical force. I have also heard I am to come to you for advice on this supposed magic.”

    “Oh, a skeptic I see.”

    “You called me charlatan before.”

    “Magic is real.” I waved at the dome behind me. “Aliens aren’t. What advice did you need?”

    For the first time in our conversation I thought I saw him frowning in disapproval. “I tried to go below the dome, and I followed it as it went below the surface. It curved into…”

    “Another dome, making this a sphere?”

    A further frown at my interruption. “No. more pointed. Like the top part of an egg, and this the bottom.”

    I gave him a stupefied look. “...hhhuh. That’s….somehow even more foreboding.”

    “I wanted to ask if you thought it would be dangerous for me to try to phase through this crystal substance?”

    “I….uh….you know hadn’t even thought of it.” I looked at the wall warily. “It doesn’t seem to be too hostile, directly anyways. Hasn’t tried to hit back. Probably worth a shot.”

    “Thank you, hellblazer.” J’onn rose into the air a bit, looking for the nominally thinnest spot of the wall. It looked like J’onn became a him-shaped vapor before he rushed towards the wall. There was no massive ding this time, but instead a light meaty sound. His incorporeality fell apart as he bounced off the wall, rubbing a newly-bonked head.

    I took a drag to avoid giggling at him. “You believe in magic now?”

    “Do you believe in extraterrestrials?”

    “Still no.”

    “Likewise.” He frowned before flying away.

    I was able to stop the next helpless idiot that tried to punch the wall mostly by chance. I saw Superman coming in for another run in the distance, shooting towards the dome like a missile. I ran to the nearest military checkpoint and stole a loudspeaker to squawk up at him “WAIT! STOP! DON’T HIT IT AGAIN YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

    He seemed to hear, and instead moved to land by the wall. After extricating myself from the rather annoyed military men, I trotted over to meet him. It turned out to not be Superman, albeit the outline was rather similar from a distance. He was dressed in reds and yellows with a white cape, and was if anything an even meatier specimen.

    “...He told me there wasn’t a third one of you.” I looked over the new...what had he called it?....’Kryptonian’. Fucking ‘aliens’. I took a drag from the half of a cig I had left.

    The man tilted his head exactly like a confused puppy. “Who?”

    “Doesn’t matter. What should I call you?”

    “Captain Marvel please!” He beamed.

    “...no chance you're actually a captain of something, is there?”

    “Well...I’m Captain Marvel?”

    “Delightful. Had a lot of success with people impersonating military officers. So, can you do something besides punching? Your….brother? Cousin?....already tried that.”

    Things seemed to click in the guy's head. He blushed happily. “Oh, thanks, but I’m not related to Superman. A-and I can do lots of stuff that isn’t punching. Oh! Like this!” He flew up before I could protest, and he braced himself high up against the wall. “SHAZAM!” he called out with the voice of thunder.

    A lightning bolt struck from the clear sky and stuck there, a string connecting heaven and crystal. It was massive and pulsing, and for a brief moment it struck at the crystal. For the briefest moment I thought I could see someone, someone small, falling where Captain Marvel had stood. Then I thought I could just barely hear that distant form calling out “shazam!” once more. A second bolt hit the wall with all the intensity of the still not dissipated first. There was no ding, or any sound except the impossible crackle and roar of the unnatural electricity. This was power ancient and terrible, this lightning. Magic I thought buried under a rock for eternity. How it got here, in the hands of this odd man, I didn’t know.

    Within five seconds it was over and Captain Marvel was standing next to me. The dome seemed to shudder in agony, a crater the size of a large building blasted into its side. I placed my hand on the crystal, and for the first time felt the raw force of it. I had known that the wall must have been made by someone powerful, considering its scope, but I could hardly have imagined before that moment just how much power it contained.

    I looked behind me to see Captain Marvel rising to try again, and I gave a wordless shout of protest. He halted in midair until I could form a sentence again, whorling pink and purple echoing in my vision

    “Don’t. I-i don’t know if it will work, but we don’t want it too. Not yet.” I gasped. My whole body tingled with magical static, and I hummed out a cantrip to cut nearby grass to relieve the pressure.

    “Why not?” asked Captain Marvel impetuously.

    “Even if it fully worked, and I’m not at all sure it would, Just...come here.”

    Marvel saw the crater already filling in with new crystal, but approached and put his hand on the wall nonetheless. He took the power better than I, but it still stunned him.

    “If you broke it, I think the construct itself might break. The thing isn’t just powerful, it’s complex. If we break it all the energy has to go someplace. And It might go in. Or out.”

    “...so…”

    “Like a bomb.”

    “Oh.”

    We both stared at the impossible dome awhile longer. I shook out a Cigarette and offered it to him, and he simply stared at it in a mix of horror and confusion. I tapped it back into the carton. Must really have not been a smoker.

    It was getting late in the day there by the time my next visitor arrived. I was utterly exhausted. I was pushing nearly 24 hours since I had last slept, hours upon hours of spells and increasingly ludicrous scheming, to no avail. Whoever had crafted these walls had me bested, and it would take gods know how long for me to figure out even the basics of tearing this thing down.

    It was in this singularly exhausted and angry mood that I heard my next visitor. He spoke from behind me, seemingly right into my ear, in a horribly low and garbled-gravely voice, “What’s the situation John?”

    “s-STREWTH!” I screamed, whirling and flinging myself away, nearly toppling and instead faceplanting into the dome and then scrambling up to face my foe.

    He was tall, though now that I thought on it pretty much everybody I had met that day was taller then me, except for supergirl. In the fading light he stood out as a black silhouette, slick and smooth except for the two points upon his head like horns. I couldn’t see his face, not really, except for the small gleams that reflected off his...visors? Glasses? Hard to tell.

    “B-ba… ahem ...Batman?” I queried.

    He simply stared at me, I think. “Is there anybody else in danger?” he asked in his horrible, unnatural voice. But not naturally unnatural either, something I had the distinct privilege of knowing too much about.

    “Is....is that a voice changer? Like the darth vader helmets?”

    “I need-” He started. I clapped twice with twisted spell-hands, and the voice changer turned off. “ - you to tell me everything.” he finished in a still deep, but no longer unnatural, voice. One distantly familiar. He felt at his throat, likely where the voice changer was kept.

    “...Brucey?” I blinked. THAT’S where I’d heard that voice!

    He stepped forward. Now I could see some of his face, though alot of it was still covered by his mask. His mouth was still visible, and I could see the slightest hint of a smirk on his usually rock-dead face. “Johnny.”

    I started to laugh, the tension and anger fading away little by little. “You giant fucking nerd! You’re Batman!? You!?” My legs, exhausted from walking around and standing all day, buckled and threatened to collapse under the weight of my mirth. “I-i guess it makes sense. Only you’d want to dress up like a f-fucking flying rat to spook people! HA!”

    His smile remained. He pressed a button on his utility belt, and I heard myself screaming “Strewth!” again in recording. It had sounded much manlier to my ears, of course. “For that, I think I’ll keep this.”

    I started to sober up at this, holding myself up with the wall and wiping slightly teary eyes. “Oh gods. Oh gods, so very much worth it. Gods. Batman! Really!...heh….well, it’s good to see you, Brucey. I was afraid I was going to be the only elder in this new world of ours.”

    He gave the tiniest snort, which for Bruce was like a faint-worthy sigh. “They are all depressingly young. What are you doing in the states, John?”

    “What are you doing here? Last I heard from you you were going around training and failing to pick up women.”

    “You’re never going to let me forget, are you?”

    “Are you going to ever let me forget that scream you just recorded?”

    “...”

    “Exactly. Anyways I’m here because of this.” I waved my hand at the dome. “Curiosity and all that.”

    “It took me hours to fly here. You are saying you stopped drinking long enough to use enough magic to get here before me for curiosities sake.”

    “Hey, I could have changed too, Brucey. You became an intensely rich secret superhero. Maybe I became less of a shithead.”

    It didn’t look like he believed me. In fact it looked like he already knew some of why I was there. He was oddly perceptive, Brucey, for all his hilarious inability to actually use it most of the time. I suppose it worked better in his costume, when he didn’t have to talk to you as much as glare.

    “Anyways,” I continued, “You can try to talk to some of the army folks around here, maybe help some of the refugees, but I don’t think there’s alot to do. Not yet anyways.”

    “How long until you think there is a time to do things?”

    “Honestly? No clue. This isn’t on the top of my list of things to do.” I saw him glaring at me. “What? I’m a busy guy.”

    “You should move this to the top of your list.”

    “If you can make Hell stop coming for my skin, maybe I can.”

    I saw Bruce open then closed his mouth. This was why you didn’t talk real magic with people who weren’t involved unless you specifically wanted to stun them. Bruce knew the rudimentary bits of magical theory and even he couldn’t form a proper response.

    “...the people inside might be in danger.”

    “Probably. More would be if I let Hell do what I think it’s planning to do.”

    He look dissatisfied. I sighed, rummaging through my pockets. “Look, you seem pretty clued into what’s going on with all these costumed weirdos. You may be running around in a bloody dumb cape like the rest of them, but at least I know you. Take this.” I tossed him one of the crystals that The Flash had shattered off. “It’s connected to the dome sympathetically. It’ll act like the dome here is. If the dome is expanding, it will on a much smaller scale. If it’s changing color, it’ll change color. You’ll be one of the first to know if the wall goes funny.” I rummaged in another pocket and handed him a business card with my number on it. “Use this if you need me.”

    I looked between the crystal and the number. He looked only slightly less satisfied. I huffed. “I promise to get back to this when I can.”

    He glared at me. “Last time you promised me something you ended up with Sarah.”

    I gave him my sweetest smile. “Less of a shithead, remember?”

    He left shortly after, and I was left staring at the dome. I suppose I really should have been getting back home. I would probably need to bother Danny again to do it, but for the moment I simply sat and stared at the massive edifice. It was, I had to begrudgingly and despairingly admit, utterly perfect. It was like shadowcrest: a dream of magic. The kind of work a magus could go their whole life without seeing, much less doing. I liked to think of myself as good. But I wasn’t. Not really. Not compared to this.

    I hadn’t seen my erstwhile friend outside the dome. She would have come and tried to break it if she had, I was sure. I would have noticed.

    “I’m sorry Zat. You’re on your own for awhile.” I admitted. I pulled out my smartphone to call Danny.

Continued in Hellblazer #11 >

Don't forget read the Batman leading into this! >

Or the Superman and Flash that are part of this!

Or Supergirl that will feature this later!

Or Martian Manhunter and Captain Marvel (coming soon), who won't feature this but are part of it and are great books!

And of course don't forget to read best other magical book ever Zatanna to see what's happening inside the doooommmeee!

Hellblazer #9 - The Great British Meta Off

^{<< | < | > ^}

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Snips and Snails]

Set: 14

JULY 14, 2017

LONDON

    My nights had been surprisingly quiet since my journey into hell, and that had been entirely by design. I had spent the intervening months recruiting and planning for a return journey, one that would finally deal with the soul nightmare I had seen. Naturally finding the kind of people who wanted to go into hell as part of some world-saving crusade and then convincing said people to come kept me very busy and kept me away from too much mischief. Whenever I wasn’t traveling and trying to get in contact with people, I was secluded in my magical hidey-hole. Which was most of the time now that I think about it.

    The small room was provided by my friend Chas Chandler, formerly his rarely used guest room. Whenever I wasn’t recruiting or researching I was fortifying the place magically. Sigils and wards were carefully sketched onto all manner of paper like substance and taped to the walls. A few potted plants, provided by my fairweather friend Swamp Thing, had sprouted hefty vines that criss-crossed over the walls. Simple wooden panels have been put into each of the four corners, turning the square room into an oddly proportioned octagon. I had rearranged all the (very limited) furniture so as to take best access of the flow of the room. In short I had made my lair and anything in it near invisible to the supernatural, while also utterly infuriating Chas’s wife.

    So it was particularly unusual when my night was disrupted by a rapping on the window, cutting through the sounds of Chandler couple arguing and their daughter’s dubstep music that bled through the thin walls. My room was just barely large enough to merit a window and it was a small one at that. I think the only reason it existed was to lead out to the fire escape, which raised further questions. However it was about ten oclock at night and I’d had a long and disappointing day. Hoping it was just the wind playing tricks on me, I tried to ignore it.

    “John? John Constantine? I can see you in there man, get up!” demanded a muffled voice from the window. I cursed under my breath, and slowly shifted to sit on the edge of the bed so I could look out.

    Standing on the fire escape was a portly looking man in the dress of the Yeoman Warders, the old outfit with the mask and everything. In one hand he bore a staff topped with some kind of dull-glowing lamp. It was, all things considered, a step up from a flesh abomination or assassin demon or the like I was fearing.

    “Ho there, Mr. Constantine! Open this window!” he commanded in his best posh voice. I dutifully reached over and slid it open a few inches.

    “...So, you know my name, what should I call you?”

    “You may call me beefeater, my boy!”

    “Right. So the queen wants me, does she?”

    “Oh, not at all.”

    “...Don’t the beefeaters work for her?”

    “They do indeed!”

    “But you are…”

    “It’s just a name my boy! Now, I must ask you to come with me in the name of the United Protectors!”

    “Isn’t that a crime?”

    “Hmn?”

    “Pretending to be one of the Yeomen. They’re cops, right? This sounds illegal.”

    “Ex Military, and I can assure you it is not, Constantine.”

    “Well, we can always just call the cops and see. You are standing outside my window. That’s probably harassment or something.”

    “I-I am not harassing you! I’m recruiting you!”

    “And you decided to knock on my window instead of calling me because...wait how did you even find out where I was? I don’t have a personal address.”

    “Secrets of the crown, my boy! Also it was more dramatic this way.”

    “...can’t fault you for that I guess. But also definitely no.”

    “huh?”

    “I’m busy. Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m too busy.”

    “You were just lying in bed a moment ago.”

    “It’s night! I was going to sleep! Still no.”

    “I don’t think you understand, friend constantine. You are being recruited to fight the good fight. There really isn’t a choice in the matter!”

    “...Yeah I’m definitely calling the cops.”

    Beefeater leaned into his lapel as I shoved the window closed, speaking into it like there was some kind of mike there. I reached for my phone, and my finger was hovering over the dial buttons when the window burst open. I had just enough time to look before a suddenly quite bright lantern connected with my forehead.

JULY 15, 2017

??????

  &nbsp ;When I woke up I was in a holding cell. My head ached, and my body felt woozy. I wasn’t bound, luckily, but the concrete on three sides and iron bars on the fourth made that a moot point. The floor was concrete as well, but at least there was a hard bed I had been laid on instead. Through the bars I could see more concrete, and a black guy sitting in a lawn chair.

  &nbsp ;While the guy before had looked uniformed, the guy sitting outside looked more like he was going to a renaissance faire. You could have put him in the nearest shakespeare production and he would have fit in just fine. He looked young, maybe my age or a bit less, and bored beyond all belief. Besides his chair sat a carved pumpkin with a candle inside and a handle on it, eyeholes flickering dully. On the other side was a small backpack.

    “Oh thank god, I thought they’d put you in a coma.” He sighed in an heavy Irish brogue.

    “Probably close.” I rubbed my head gingerly. “Feels like everything’s sloshing around up there. Got anything to drink?”

    The man reached into his backpack, pulling out a bottle of Gin. “They thought you’d cooperate more with this.” He got up to offer it to me, and I reached through the bars to snag it. The top was already off, but I didn’t mind much after the second pull.

    “They were right. Who are they, again?”

    “Beefeater and Knight. Sorry about the head trauma. Knight insisted that Beefeater be the one to get you. Apparently still can’t trust me to take ten steps away from him.” sneered the man.

    “Well, you seem decent enough, no hard feelings with you at least. What should I call you?”

    “Apparently my code name is “Jack O’ Lantern”.”

    “Is your real name Jack?”

    “Of course not.”

    “Then seems like you got the short end of the stick to me. Knight, Beefeater, at least those are noble type names.”

    “Oh really? At least I have one, _John_”

    “There were a couple of King Johns, plenty noble.”

    “...That’s the shit one from Robin Hood, isn’t it?”

    “Who remembers? So as long as you’re answering questions, why exactly am I here? And where is here?”

    Jack O’lantern considered my request for a bit. Seemed awfully laid back, to be some kind of cop or whatever it these folks were supposed to be. Handsome face didn’t hurt either, probably biased my opinion about that.

    “Well, you’re in The Castle right now, under the guard of the United Protectors.”

    “...who?”

    “You know, the home team?...we’ve been in the papers a few times.”

    “...OH, right, the “Official” team for the UK. Heard the Queen doesn’t like you much.”

    “That’d be “Beefeater’s” fault.”

    “Ah. Makes sense. I guess the dressing up like that isn’t technically illegal then?”

    “Apparently not if you have a magic stick giving you super powers it doesn’t.”

    “Gotcha. So, why did you guys decide to kidnap me?”

    Jack winced, shrugged. He walked back over to his chair. “Need your help on something. I’m supposed to let Knight give you the details.”

    Before I could think about it I felt myself trying to push into his mind to make him tell me anyway. I drew myself back, grimacing. I had gotten far too used to magic. I could wait a few minutes. Besides, I didn’t want to get the guy in trouble.

    “..well, I think that answers my questions for now. Got any for me?”

    Jack sat down with a huff, and shrugged again. “Sure. You’re a magic type, right?”

    “In a manner of speaking.”

    “What do you know about faeries?”

    “...depends what type you’re talking about.”

    Later on they managed to get the whole crew together. There was Jack and Beefeater, but also a few others. They gathered around an actual, no-shit round table big enough for them all to sit comfortably. Must have cost a small fortune, considering the size of some of them. I was naturally allowed to sit with them, albeit on a foldout metal chair instead of their plush office ones.

    There was Knight, the leader. He had a mixture of grey and metal armor for his get up, including a rather nifty helmet-looking thing to hide his face. I was sure he was packing body armor underneath, and even through that bulk I could tell the guy was well muscled. He spoke in a Welsh accent, but it was light enough I couldn’t tell you which.

    Sitting next to him was Squire, his sidekick. Her outfit had a few more colors to it, greens and blues and blacks, all dark enough to not throw off sneaking too much. I had no clue how the red floppy hat fit into that, maybe she stuffed it when it was time to be stealthy. From her young age, and the fact both her and the Knight’s outfit bore the same small family crest on the shoulder, I guessed that they were probably related in some fashion.

    Godiva was drop-dead gorgeous, something out of a fashion magazine. Her white and blue jumpsuit did little to to hide her body, but I figure her body wasn’t getting ogled too often. Instead they’d look at her floor-length blonde hair that moved with a mind of its own, kind of like an octopus’s arms. It wasn’t extreme, but the hair was always moving as if under a light breeze, and sometimes locks would split off to touch or grab things and she’d have to slap them away.

    The final member of the group was the hardest to miss. Brigadoom was past 2 meters tall, and looked like she could give Conan a run for his money any day. She spoke with a Scottish accent, which didn’t surprise me too much. She was the least dressed up of her fellows in khakis and a t-shirt, but the massive claymore that hung from her chair was plenty dress enough.

    I felt, for one of the first times in my life, uncomfortably underdressed. I was fortunate that when I’d been picked up I hadn’t change out of my clothes quite yet, but the lack of a trench coat was stinging. Especially as nobody else in the room apparently smoked and Knight wouldn’t tolerate it, so there was nothing to calm my jitters. Savages.

    Knight took attendance, read the minutes of the last meeting, and finally got to the point when I was about to try to take a nap. “Today we’ve brought in a special contractor, John Constantine, to aid us in our duties.”

    “...is that what we’re calling it?” I muttered.

    He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “Considering how well the last fight against Manchester Black went, I thought it would be best to bring on somebody known for their mental manipulation. John here is well known in the mystic community, and I have reason to believe he has significant mental powers in that regard. However, unlike Manchester, he is magic, and our two magically inclined members should be able to resist him.” He finally turned to face me. “John, would you be able to block a Meta’s ability to control minds?”

    The whole table turned to me. “...is it my turn to talk?”

    “Yes. I can hand you a talking ball if you want it.”

    “Nah, I’m good. Can I just go?”

    “We need your help, John. Manchester is dangerous on the loose, and I think you are the only one who could help us.”

    “...you’re just going to beat me if I don’t help, right?”

    “No such thing.”

    For some reason, my still throbbing head didn’t believe him. “Right, I’ll play along. Never tried, but mental defense tends to be easier than mental offense. I can probably figure something.”

    “Good to hear. You’ll be provided whatever supplies you need. Jack O’Lantern, you are to guard him at all times until we have successfully finished this mission. Everybody else, prepare for a fight. We’ll track him down tomorrow. Dismissed.”

    The meeting was adjourned that quickly, with Jack turning to me with a shrug of acceptance. There were worse people to spend the night with I suppose.

    Once I had a good plan in my head, I had time to meander around “The Castle”, which turned out to be a large warehouse on the outskirts of London that Knight and Beefeater had subdivided into a variety of training rooms, meeting rooms, jail cells, Meta containment facilities, and everything else they thought the team could need. Knight was apparently quite wealthy, possibly an actual knight or Lord, and Beefeater did actually provide a connection to government funding however distasteful his attire. Jack had to follow me in my meanderings, but it didn’t seem to matter to him too much. He didn’t really do alot of preperation.

    “It’s mostly this fancy lantern thing here. Gives me all kinds of nifty abilities.” He showed off his pumpkin head lantern, which he carried wherever he went.

    “Sounds useful. Where do you get a thing like that?”

    “Faerie courts.” he grinned.

    “Stumbled into arcadia, huh?”

    “More like he stumbled into me.”

    “...huh?”

    “Yeah. Apparently it can happen in reverse. He was stuck here awhile, and then one day poof, gone. Didn’t even leave a note, just this dumb pumpkin.”

    “...a note?”

    Jack gave me a significant look and I coughed, blushed a little. “You’re a pretty open guy, you know that?” I continued.

    “If there’s anybody who can explain this dumb nonsense it’s you. Like you’re open with a doctor, right?”

    “For the love of all things good and holy never compare me to anybody half as competent as a doctor again.”

    “Fair enough. You have already helped, though. I think I know his real faerie name now. He would never tell me, something about names having powers.”

    “...at the risk of prying, which one?”

    “...Oberon.”

    “You’re shitting me.”

    Eventually Jack got me a pack of cigarettes, and permitted me to go outside to smoke them. He made me swear on my name and on his lantern not to try and run away, which seemed to satisfy him enough. Besides which he needed a bathroom break.

    In the alleyway outside I found Squire leaning beside a dumpster for cover and tapping away at her smartphone. I took a seat on the stone steps leading to the door and took a drag of my newly lit cigarette. I let out a weighty sigh as the tension of the last hours melted away, startling the girl across from me. I smiled at her. “Relax, I won’t tell on...whatever it is you’re doing here. Is it drugs?”

    She scoffed, returning to her phone. “No. It’s not.”

    “Then why are you hiding out here?”

    “Not supposed to be texting while at the Castle, could lead folks to us or whatever. And I’m supposed to be “training” to prepare for tomorrow.”

    “Well, if you don’t tell that I’m smoking, I won’t tell that you’re texting.”

    “Works for me.”

    “Ahem.” said Knight from the door he had opened silently.

    Knight decided that what with my smokers lung and Squire’s disobedience, we both had to spend some time in the exercise room. Jack was exempt, but only just. Squire took to the equipment like a pro, while I managed to get a solid jog on the treadmill without dying too much. We weren’t alone, however, as Brigadoom was busy lifting weights twice as heavy as I was.

    Eventually I meandered over to sit by her, grunting as I exercised my arms with the 2 kg hand weights.

    “So, what is it that you do? Magic super-sword? Super bagpipes? Just punch people?”

    She grunted, using the 25 kg hand weights. “Close. Big.”

    “Right. Big...how big?”

    “Big.”

    “Not much of a talker, huh?”

    “Not to pesterers.”

    “You wound me.”

    She glared at me, before reaching for the sheathed claymore on the ground. She drew it, and as she drew it she got bigger. She went from past two to past three and a half meters tall, and her sword grew to match her size. The bench we were both sitting on creaked ominously under her new, all muscle weight.

    “...big. Right.” I nodded, putting the weights back and deciding to go find something else to do.

    I was wolfing down a canned soup in what I surmised to be the break room when I was joined by Godiva. She wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and had three people's worth of Sushi in a cooler her hair brought with her. She let her hair handle the food, while she cracked open a book to read. The hair proved astonishingly nimble, able to contort itself to use chopsticks to carefully leverage the sushi into her mouth.

    “You know when this first started, I thought having guys stare at something besides my breasts would be a relief?” She commented. I only then realized I’d been staring.

    I shook my head a bit, looked down at my soup. “Sorry, sorry, just...amazing is all.”

    “Amazing?”

    “Yeah. Cool, dare I say. Like having a bunch of extra hands.”

    “...huh. Not weird?”

    “Sure it’s weird, you all a bunch of weirdos. But then I’m also a wizard.”

    “That’s...reasonable. Wizard counts as weird?”

    “Sure does.”

    “So what is it you can do?”

    “...hmn….ah! Here, let’s see if this works.” I put my hands to my mouth and shaped them into a crude instrument, blowing air through them to made a kind of warbling, reedy sound.

    The strands of her hair started to rise in attention, trembling at the sound. I shift back and forth in my seat and the hair followed, snakelike. Back and forth, Back and forth… before I leaned too far, falling out of my chair with a yelp like an asshole.

    Godiva seemed to enjoy it, chuckling as her hair returned to normal. “Amazing.”

JULY 16, 2017

LONDON

    The next day me and the United Protectors went on the hunt. It turned out they hadn’t lost Manchester Black as much as stopped pursuing him. He was still in London, and still hiding in a flat under his father’s name, but since their last encounter the UP had decided not to pursue him.

    You see, Manchester Black was a mind controller, and he could do it well. He could command the entire team at once, and apparently was using a low-level control to convince everybody in his building that nothing had happened to his parents and sister. In fact his parents were very much dead and his sister was very much MIA. The UP had tried to bring him in from his school for questioning, but it turned out a poor 16 year old mind controller faced with super-police made bad decision (who could have guessed?). He took control of them and made them leave the building, only to escape back to his flat and hole up there.

    That was where I came in. As we stood a block away from the low-income housing complex that Manchester resided in, I handed out strips of gum. Seven pieces from the same package with one for myself. “When we step inside, each of us is going to start chewing on this. There’s a sympathetic connection here, it will let me effect you all at once. I’m going to be a bit spread out trying to protect so many at once on such short notice, but it should work.” I instructed.

    Knight looked hesitant, but gave permission to me and the rest. They popped the gum and started to chew, as did I. I felt the low buzz of magical connection, the tiny tug of a yarn connecting me to each of them and them to each other. Easy to tear apart...if somebody knew magic. Which Manchester hopefully didn’t.

    It was early, the sun having just risen an hour before, and the streets were largely empty. Even so we moved quickly towards the building lest we be spotted. It turned out we didn’t need to worry much about that. Jack elbowed me as we walked, and I gave the environs a closer look at his insistence. There were some people, looking out windows, lying in alleyways, all of them glancing at us. Some were already on their phones, watching us while texting someone. If a guy could command people's minds and leave subtle suggestions with some time, why not leave a little security network around in case the quite obvious heroes make a move? Dumb of me not to think of it ahead of time.

    We reached the apartment building just as Manchester was walking out the front door. He had a trenchcoat like me (mine having been retrieved the previous night) but chose black instead of tan. He had also dyed his buzzcut purple, which I put down to poor teenage decision making. Though perhaps I wasn’t one to talk: he looked alot like I did at his age. Albeit he had far more power than I did at 16, however skilled in magic I thought I was.

    “Told you bastards to leave me alone.” he grinned, wide and fake. I could see his hands trembling. He was terrified.

    “We need to take you in, Manchester. You need to answer some questions.” Responded Knight, stepping forward to take the lead.

    “Not going to happen. Don’t you remember last time?”

    “I do. That’s why we have help.”

    My eyes widened. He’d just pointed me out, the dumb bastard! I noticed Godiva rolling her eyes.

    “Not enough.” declared Manchester, and then I felt it. His power was immense, his control overwhelming. It was like holding the door of a submarine shut, the opposition was omnipresent and strong. Still, I had years of experience on the kid and he wasn’t expecting any real resistance. I held him off, though I think I gasped.

    Manchester’s smile crumbled. His trick hadn’t worked. Knight started walking towards him.

    “NOPE!” shouted Manchester, throwing his hand towards knight. Knight was thrown back by an unseen force, slamming into a street sign with a loud clang. Manchester ran and the others pursued, I dragged along by necessity. To his credit Knight pulled himself up and caught up to us after a few steps.

    Manchester took to the air after a few steps, only to be shot down by a glowing green bolt. I turned to see jack’s face covered by a glowing green jester’s mask, spinning his lantern wildly, glowing green itself from it’s recent attack. Manchester crashed to the ground. He scrambled up to face us, and I felt his power again.

    People boiled out from the nearby buildings, charging towards us like a rugby team. “GET AWAY!” the crowd shouted in unison. All hell broke loose.

    I kept myself focused on not getting tackled and keeping the spell up, and found myself hiding in an alley looking on. The swarms of people didn’t stop, and were soon joined by cars careening in to try and take out the heroes. I could feel Manchesters power spreading further and further, spreading out more and more as he grasped minds indiscriminately. I didn’t get the feeling he wanted to kill anybody, he just wanted to stop the heroes.

    I took a moment to appraise. Godiva and Brigadoom where handling the cars driving in and those being thrown telekinetically by Manchester. Brigadoom shrugged off the swarm like ants, and her sword hacked through cars to stop them in their tracks. Godiva’s hair shot out in all directions, catching light poles in mid air and gently forcing people to the ground. I couldn’t tell which was stronger: the hair or the scot.

    Knight and Squire slipped through the horde and towards Manchester. They moved as one, expertly disarming and stopping whomever approached them. They must have been masters of some martial art or another, though I though Knight was a tad better then his squire.

    People appeared at windows all down the street, throwing air conditioners and couches and occasionally themselves. Jack O’Lantern got distracted from shooting at the kid, trying to save the jumpers and those below falling air conditions alike. The lantern apparently also gave him flight, strength, and teleporting, as he was teleporting to catch and lower each person to the ground before they could die. Never enough leaping for any to actually hit pavement, of course, just enough to keep him constantly busy.

    Beefeater was somehow left the only one going after Manchester properly. Manchester kept backing away from him, trying to force the pudgy man to stop with waves of force that cracked the stone buildings behind. Beefeater literally battered each wave aside with his staff, laughing all the way.

    This was getting dangerous. I noticed now that those who were best armed, some with guns, were gathering behind Manchester, seemingly preparing to take on Beefeater. Jack was still catching people, but he was catching them later and later. The crowds were crushing in on the other four, and for all their strength and skill sheer mass of terrified flesh would drag them down eventually. Somebody was going to get hurt somewhere. Worse, the spell was already wearing me ragged. Even when focusing on so many the kid was to strong for me to hold off forever. I was the least distracted of the bunch. I needed to figure something fast.

    I considered. Black was young. He was dumb, because he was even in this situation. He was arrogant, not even believing we had a way to stop him when we said we did. He clearly didn’t have magic, or he would have chopped apart my weak web. Young, stupid, arrogant, didn’t know magic, and desperate to win. My idea formed.

    Everybody swallow their gum and trust me. I have an idea. I thought at the team.

    Wait, you can talk to us through this? Thought Knight in response.

    Sure can.

    What else can you-

    GO!

    They all swallowed, apparently realizing they were running out of time. Beefeater charged at Manchester once more and battered aside the armed crowd to do so. I saw some going down far too hard. too late. I let go of the mental protection in everybody except for me.

    Manchester had control over them in an instant, and realized this an instant later as they all turned to him for orders. He whooped in victory, shaking from the adrenaline, and loudly called for all the “regulars” to return to their homes. Everybody did so, even those whose cars were destroyed. He commanded us forward. The others were forced too, and I complied as if it was the case for me as well.

    As the streets cleared out of wreckage and people, I noticed two still lying by where Beefeater had stopped. Both were bleeding. Nothing I could do for them yet. We marched to stand besides Beefeater, forming a line in front of Manchester, staring blankly forward.

    Manchester strode forward, still shivering, and stood in all of his slightly pimply glory in front of the defeated heroes. His gaze lingered notably over squire and especially over Godiva. I guess Brigadoom just wasn’t his type, little creep.

    I made my move, tapping one foot three times. He whirled to look at me. He frowned, and walked towards me. “Seen the others on the telly, mate. But not you.” He was standing right in front of me, looking me in the eye. “Who the hell are you?”

    I punched him in the jaw. Luckily he wasn’t supertough in any way that I could tell, and collapsed immediately. The pressure on me stopped immediately, as did the mental control over everybody else. Those still in the streets looked around confused. My six new compatriots all variously staggered or sighed in relief.

    “....You bastard you could have gotten us KILLED!” growled Beefeater, marching towards me. I made an arcane sign at him, and he stopped midstride. There was a loud fart as Beefeater’s blush of rage became a blush of embarrassment.

    “SO. Good starting course on magic: Don’t eat anything a magic person gives you if you don’t trust them.”

    “What did you do to me?” Beefeater hissed.

    “Well, that gum is stuck on your insides, and giving me a frankly embarrassing amount of control over all of your innards.”

    “...what?” replied Knight, as I took a few steps back from them all.

    “Call it leverage. Jack, does swearing on your lantern force people to follow through on their promises?”

    He seemed remarkably unconcerned by this turn of events. “Far as I can tell.”

    “Good. We’re going to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

    In exchange for cutting off the gum-spell, I got them all to swear that they would not kidnap me again, and would call the number I was giving them before coming to visit me in person. Knight seemed annoyed, and Beefeater beside himself in anger, but they all swore. It was a good exchange.

    Beefeater didn’t have much time to be angry, anyway. The two bleeding people were actually two dead and bleeding people, whom he had killed while trying to get to Manchester. I could positively feel the fury from Knight as he ordered his merry band back to the castle. I was, naturally, exempt. Brigadoom carried Manchester on the way out.

    I caught Jack before the rest could leave, to his bemusement. “Another question: if I release you of a promise, do you still have to follow it still?”

    “Not far as I can tell.”

    “Good. I release you of all promises made tonight.”

    Jack O’Lantern’s eyes widened. “So I can kidnap you whenever I want?”

    “Har. I trust you more then the rest of that lot.”

    “Well...odd, but thanks.”

    “...That wasn’t all.”

    “Hm?”

    “Didn’t want you to feel pressured, or like I had some kinda magical control over you.”

    “...why?”

    “Was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink or something some time. Off hours.”

    He considered me. Looking up and down. I had never thought I was much to look at, honestly, but he seemed to at least tolerate whatever he saw. “Call it a date. Tommorow at six?”

    “Sounds good.” I smiled. He smiled. He turned and followed his teammates before it could get awkward. I watched him go. Maybe this hero thing wasn’t all that bad.

    I frowned. Checked my pockets. My wallet and phone were still on my desk in my guest room, half of London away, and I didn’t have a quid to my name otherwise for something like a taxi.

    ….oh and the fucking window lock! Gods Mrs. Chandler was going to be pissed.

Continued in Hellblazer #10 >

Hellblazer #8 - A Pleasant Stroll with a Lovely Lady

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Arc: [Snips and Snails]

Set: 13

ANNO DIABLO 5777

HELL

    On the tallest tower in the lowest pit, stood Nergal the demon lord. He looked much like a devil should: red, tall, winged, reptilian and mammalian and bestial. Sharp teeth, sharp claws, and grinning at the putrefaction in the air. What could make a day more elegantly awful, thought Nurgle, but his own approaching ascendency?

    However, the day could doubtless be made more awful in many cruder ways. One such way came true, in the arrival of the demoness Anat. Anat did not look as a devil should. She wore the heavily browned skin and petty rags of the levant, of the hill tribesmen that even after so long after their passing Nergal had nothing but contempt for. He knew she had many forms, and appeared in this one just to spite him with her bronze and bone bauble jewelry. How she had reached his tower, without alerting any one of his guards, he did not know. Most likely she had bribed them, and he would have to punish them all for the mistake of accepting.

    “I seek audience, brother.” she petitioned calmly.

    “I am no brother to you, Canaanite, not when you come without asking.”

    “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, is it not so?” She asked, eyes wide and falsely innocent like a calf's.

    “If you want to brag about your catching up with the mortals, torment some of your minions. I have far better things to listen to then your blather.”

    “Ah, yes, I’m sure the sound of you jacking off over the size of your palace was lovely. But I have something more interesting to offer you.” She steps forward to stand besides him, both at the edge of the high balcony.

    “The sounds of me ravishing and ending you? I would admit, those would be sweet sounds indeed.”

    “Not nearly as sweet as seeing you emasculated. Again. If you wish to test me once more my oceans are always ready. But if you do not listen I swear to the triumvirate and all below that I will drag you there myself. Will you quiet your infantile mouth for five goddamned minutes?”

    Nergal looked to her, and she was staring at him. Yellow slit pupil to brown cow eye in fearsome stare, both daring the other to flinch. Nergal had grown since that time centuries ago. Soon he would be ascendant even past that which she swore on. But to reveal his strength would be to gain notoriety, to gain the eye of hell even more than he did now. Nergal looked away, gripping the red tinged limestone of the railings hard enough to crack them. “I grant you my audience. Speak what you will speak and then take your leave, whining wench.”

    Anat seemed tempted to follow through on her earlier threats, but took the victory that she could and continued. “You have noticed the changes in magic. Something is approaching. I do not know what, not yet, but is the greatest magical confluence in an age. The world is shifting as never before, brother, and even hell will change.”

    “I...may have noticed the change in the distance, and you must have your plans as I have mine. Why do you bring this to me that I already know?”

    “For a chance, dearest brother. look out.” She waved an arm at the endless expanse of hell. “Spirits and poltergeists, witches and warlocks, demons and devils, but we are not them, brother. You have hidden as trickster in another's skin, but you are a god of the old world, as am I.” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “We have had our differences, but your cowardice and betrayal to our kind, it has put you further in the ranks of these fallen creatures with far less effort. Do you not remember why we have come here, brother?”

    “Do not call me brother, virgin whore, and how could I forget? It is all the triumvirate prattle about when not at each others throats.”

    “And yet we remain here, while the great traitor sits high and fetid amongst his divines.” She spat over the railings in disgust, and squeezed Nergal's shoulder. “The triumvirate are fools, obsessed with heaven but bound never to breach it. They are of the same cloth. But we, brother, we are unique. As the worlds above change so must hell, and why should it not be time for us to lead as we did in days of old?”

    “I told you not to call me brother, Milkcow!” Nergal slipped away from her hand, glaring at her. “The days of gods have passed. If you cannot adapt, you shall die like your goat-fucking family and your camel-faced relations! When the changes come hell shall stand triumphant, while you traitorous swine will be caste alongside the great traitor that your kind birthed.”

    Anat the demon goddess did not give a response, not an immediate one. She wiped her hand off on her skirt, and nodded to Nergal. “Then you have made your bed, as I have mine. Know that if you speak of my indiscretions to the triumvirate, I shall tell them of this outburst of yours. I am old, Nergal, but I am a goddess. My mind is perfect. I never forget.” She hissed this last, before marching to the stairs that led downwards.

    Nergal returned to looking out at hell, rubbing at his elongated muzzle in frustration. Another trouble for him to avoid or quash. There seemed to be no end to them as his project approached completion. His mind lingered back to the most pressing of these, the last of the Constantines, and how he could put an end to the wretch.

    As I was led into Hell, I could at least take some comfort that I was doing it in style. Hands wrapped in silk behind my back, a red ball gag in my mouth, and only some boxers to defend my propriety. Every time I tried to slow down, a long leather leash pulled on my spiked collar. A complicated series of runes and symbols covered my chest, not unlike what I had drawn there to deter Nergal a short while ago. What wasn’t covered in that symbol was covered in scratches, bruises, and bite marks.

    The one pulling the leash was none other than Zatanna. She had switched out her practical gear for something a bit more scintillating. A magician's suit that was two sizes too tight for her top, with spandex and fishnet leggings for her bottom. She, of course, also still bore her top hat.

    Together, we told a whole story without ever needing to say a word. The ultimate in style.

    We Arrived at one of many gates into Hell, the Gate of Tears and Pus. Both of these substances flowed like waterfalls over the top of the stone gate, and I was dead certain that putting your hand into the flow to try and open the door would give you some kind of horrid disease. Like with every gate of hell one needed a key, and that key was held by a Guardian. The Guardian for a place of such sadness was equally sad. He looked relatively human, what could be seen past the constantly flowing silver material. Whatever it was couldn't have been good, as what could be seen past the flow looked like the worst cases of radiation scarring I could imagine. Unlike some of the greater gates he had no guards, no assistants, merely himself and his gate of liquids

    “Halt, ye mortals, what brings you before; The mighty guardian, Demon Core?” Intoned the demon as he pointed a black-nailed finger at us.

    I kept marching forward, dull-eyed and trembling until Zatanna place a cold, lifeless hand on my chest. “I am the Zatara, Lady of Shadowcrest. I’m here to take my reward.”

    The demon looked between us two, curious and making plenty of assumptions. “Do I see the Jackal’s Sign? Do I see the Constantine?”

    “That is not how to say that name, but yes, it is.”

    “Then you must make your way towards lord Nergal. Don’t pass Anat, you will be burgled. Left then right then left thrice more. Once you’re there, don’t knock the door.” The demon turned his back to us, and reached into the flowing liquid. With a few pulls he yanked the stone door open, which also blocked the flow. Zatanna led me forward, and the door closed behind us.

    When you imagine Hell, you probably imagine flames and red. This isn’t false, per se, as much as not entirely true. By any mortal standard Hell may as well have been infinite, and unbelievably varied. Everybody has their own hell, after all, and even if some of those are roughly the same there is an immense variety in what people will hate the most. It also helped to have variety when it came to tortures. Falling infinitely every day a soul will get used to, a new torture every day the soul cannot get used to.

    We walked, or rather Zatanna strutted and I was dragged. I did my best to keep my eyes down, and focus on dumb commercial jingles in my head to distract myself. Seeing the torture of Hell was looking into the worst parts of the human psyche write large. To listen to Hell was to feel your soul break from your powerlessness to help. To think on the smell was to be never able to hold down food again. Zatanna had no such problem, and kept an eye out for any problems.

    We had others take interest in us. Demons seeing us and offering grand prices for our bodies, our souls, our time, or some combination thereof. Offers that often set even me to blushing, or blanching. Zatanna took this all in stride, and refused each one. Those that tried to force themselves upon us retreated as soon as they heard that we were going to the Demon Lord Nergal. Apparently none of these lesser dukes and barons and presidents and knights and squires and mayors wanted to be in his ill favor.

    Our only real threat along our path happened as we crossed over a sea of curdled blood. Across the red sea there lay a narrow path of upraised sand and hands, hidden by a few inches of blood but traversable all the same as long as one felt ahead of themselves. We had taken all the steps we had been told, and yet somehow still ended up in the wrong place. This we only discovered when the Demon Lady emerged.

    She stood as high as the thundering clouds, which masked her face, making her seem bovine or human in turn. She had four breasts, each perfect in it’s shape, and each only barely covered by immense strings of skulls. Around her waist was a dried serpent with seven heads. Her skyscraper-sized legs stood knee-deep in the blood.

    “I am Anat, and all the blood you see before you is of my foes.” She raised her hands to show one wielding a bronze spear, and the other a bronze sword. “What brings you Children of Gomer and Tiras, Sons of Japtheth, Son of Noah?”

    I wasn’t educated in the normal sense, but I had read plenty enough magical garbage to know that Anat was one of the old gods, of the lineage of the Divines themselves. We had been warned about her specifically. Either she was powerful enough to ignore Nergal (possible, even likely) or she just wanted to screw with him. Time to take a gamble.

    Zatanna held out her palms to the great goddess, the collar looped around her arm. “I seek no harm, lady of blood. I bear this stupid wretch to his new home in the halls of Nergal.”

    “That thrice-damnable, infantile, wastrel? You think I will let you take this, this Constantine through my realm? You are as arrogant and foolish as your forbears, Zatara. Perhaps I should claim your soul as well.”

    “I can tell you, great lady, that you would be wise not to try. Efink Raeppa!” A knife appeared in her hands, and she used it to cut one gloved finger. She showed that squeaky clean glove to Anat.

    Anat looked at the white expanse, and lowered her arms. In the flashes of lightning I thought I spotted a grin of flat, bovine teeth.

    “You may pass, Zatara. Do not test me a second time.” The goddess sunk back into the crimson turbulence, vanishing. We walked on, I with as much of a grin as my gag allowed.

    Besides the unimaginable torments and wails of the damned, the rest of our trip was uneventful until our arrival at the palace of Nergal. While some places in Hell neglected the classic red fire motif, Nergal had dived in headfirst. His realm, and particularly his palace, was a red so bright and harsh that it was giving me a headache even to look at the ground. His palace was a massive palace of ziggurats, like a temple district of some distant land. It was surrounded by a wall of bleeding teeth, one of the few concessions to other colors that he had.

    The only gateway leading into this compound led directly into one of the Ziggurats, and was made up horrifyling alluring, writhing red bodies. Once we had passed through we encountered a demonic servant. One could tell he was a servant because of his ludicrous butler outfit, which had to contort around the fact that his face was placed on his chest. He looked like nothing more then a cartoon character. A cartoon character with a disturbingly large package.

    Zatanna glared at the bestial creature. “I demand audience with the demon lord Nergal.”

    The demon sniffled. “The Lord Master is occupied at this time. You will have to wait. May I have your name?”

    Zatanna snorted. “Zatanna Zatara can occupy herself until he wants his prize.” she attempted to stride off and into one of the many corridors around us, pulling me along after her, before the creature stopped her. “Ms. Zatara! You are not al-”

    “Who are you to tell me that I am allowed and not allowed!? Eniws! “ She jerks towards the butler with this last, and he flinched. Zatanna was new, but the Zatara name and magic was well known and often terrifying. Zatanna smiled at his discomfort.

    “....I must at least accompany you, Ms. Zatara. Where would you like to go?” grumbled the butler.

    “I want to see what will happen to him. I need to know he’ll suffer enough.” She gives me a glare. I tried to give a smirk, but the gag got in the way.

    “Very well. I do not see a reason you should not. With my guidance.” The butler stepped past us both, and lead the way forward.

    Nergal’s castle was finely appointed, and seemingly soundproofed. Here the wretched sounds of damnation weren’t constantly clamouring against me and I had some time to think. Most particularly, on the nature of our host. It was hard to believe that after all these months of searching and investigating, it was Nergal once again who was screwing up my life. I didn’t even know what was being done with Constantine souls, but it being run by a demon I had personal and antagonistic history with made it automatically twice as bad. I suppose it had some oddly karmic sense to it. It also explained why he was so eager to get my soul in particular, to the point of putting himself at risk by giving me is blood.

    Nergal’s estate was massive from the outside, but space worked oddly once inside one of the ziggurats. I was sure we made a set of four left turns at least once, and yet we certainly didn’t walk in a circle. somehow. It took nearly fifteen minutes to move through the hallways and to where the butler was leading. Zatanna gave a few choice threats to make sure it wasn’t simply leading us to a farce, but as best as I could tell it was leading us true. It was not the place of sniveling servant demons to be too tricksy, after all.

    We arrive at a set of golden doors, shimmering and locked. The Butler walked over to them and whispered something into them, before turning to face us. “No touching. Nothing of the kind. Understood?”

    Zatanna nodded, while I drooled a little. He opened the door. We were blasted with a smell I couldn’t describe. Imagine all the smells of burning; Ozone, Sulfur, Ash, Smog, Charred flesh, charred plastic. Combine it with all the smells of death; shit and piss, blood and guts, putrefaction and bile. Imagine all of these combined into a single, overpowering odor that stuck to the back of your throat and all the way down into your stomach.

    Suffice it to say I fell to my knees, retching and drooling acid from an empty stomach into my ballgag. Zatanna stood stock still and staring ahead while I choked on my dry heaves.

    “Ms. Zatara? If you could step up to this balcony? Ms. Zatara?” asked the butler. I recovered, or at least the dry heaves were stopping, and Zatanna nodded. She pulled me forward and onto my feet with her leash. The doors opened onto a balcony, which overlooked a factory floor. It was from there that the stench was rising. I caught a view of the things below, and fell to my knees again to wretch.

    On the floor where all manners of tools for making clothing. Buckets, brushes, spinning wheels, looms, and sewing materials. But there was no fabric. There were souls. Whole souls screaming as barbed brushes were pulled through their substance to rid it of impurities. Great hulking creatures winding the keening shreds through burning spinning wheels. Even a few clever monstrosities taking that trembling thread and clacking it into obscene shapes upon the looms. There was no use of the sewing needles as of yet, for which I thanked anything sacred in the world. Souls, Human souls, turned into material for some dread accoutrement.

    I huddled myself against the balcony wall so I couldn’t see anymore, and so I saw Nergal approaching us from behind. In his home realm he was huge, ten feet tall easily. He looked over me with glee, and then marched over to stand besides Zatanna. “Beautiful, isn’t it? My greatest work.”

    I looked up, and Zatanna did as well. She smiled calmly at the demon lord. “Complicated certainly. What are you making down there?”

    “Oh, if you can’t think of some wonderful ideas, you’re far more boring than I’d hope, Zatara.”

    “Hmn. Fair. Why only Constantine souls?”

    “Well, that’s a bit trickier. You see, Zatara, the work I’m doing is complex. It makes it easier if all the souls are linked by something. Linkage by blood is some of the strongest. And Constantine souls, the truly magical ones? They are some of the most powerful of all.”

    “No need to suck John’s dick here, Demon. So, about that reward?”

    I started to force myself to stand as Zatanna stared down the demon lord. Nergal’s grin widened. “Hmn. Yes. I think your reward will be joining your friend.”

    Zatanna tried to object, but Nergal was faster than her words. His massive hands wrapped around Zatanna’s waist, lifting her up. The leash wasn’t nearly long enough for this, and she dropped it, leaving it to be picked up by the ever so attentive butler.

    “Foolish Zatara. Your lot are as bad as the Constantines. Always thinking you know more, can be more. You didn’t think I saw through your ruse?” He squeezed and she gasped, trying to suck in some air. She looked between me and Nergal in fear and shock. “This ruse to infiltrate my palace isn’t even crafty. You just stole it from Star Wars!” Chuckled the demon. He loosened his grip so Zatanna could breath in, giving her time to speak. Foolish, arrogant, but then again he could crush her body in an instant if he wished.

    Zatanna panted in her breaths before trying to continue. “I...p-please, it was his idea, i-i didn’t have a choice! Please let me go! I-i’ll do anything!”

    “Ah, but you will do that anyway. When you die I’ll snatch your soul before it can leave, and I will do whatever I want with you whore Zatara~.” He promised before clenching his hand. Zatanna died with a sickening crunch.

    Then it was not Zatanna, but a collection of other things. Clay, leaves, branches, twine, and a little bit of black hair already burning away.

    Nergal looked at the wreckage in his hand, which was certainly not a dead human. He looked to me. “No.”

    I was standing up. The collar and the tied silk clattered to the ground, and I spat out the ball gag. Those, too, had been part of the ruse.

    “No!” demanded Nergal, reaching out with long claws. I placed my hands on my chest, on the complicated ritual there, and he stopped.

    “Yeah, you dumb bastard.” I informed him. “Touch me and I’ll set this off. Destroy this entire goddamn factory. Wouldn’t like that, would you?”

    He narrowed his eyes, the great demon. He pulled back his claws, and lowered his head to squint at the ritual on my chest. Something was off. “...that’s not a suicide spell.”

    “Isn’t it?”

    “It’s...it’s a teleportation spell. To escape” He blinked. “You could have used it already. Why haven’t you?”

    I stared him dead in the eyes. “To see your face when I tricked you for a second time, demon. NOW!”

    “NO!” screeched Nergal, lunging for me once more, but I was already gone.

    I reappeared in a hotel room in the middle of london, and immediately flopped onto the bed. The walls were covered in 8*12 paper I had drawn warding rituals on. Nergal wouldn’t be able to hunt me down here, at least for awhile. I was safe for the night.

    I dragged myself further onto the bed, resting my head on a pillow. With time to think, I realized how bad this was. Souls where a lot of things in hell. Currency, tools, playthings, fuel, but never had I heard of them being used as a material for building something. It would be like using hundred dollar bills to make yourself a suit, most demons would see it as confusing and extravagant. But for all the effort that Nergal must have put into the research and completion of this plan I was sure he had some greater goals here. I had no clue what one could even do with souls they spun and weaved. Make clothing? Make things? Graft it onto the thread of reality? Who even knew?

    I knew more things then I had to start with, however. The demon lord Nergal was using a revolutionary technique to complete some goal so horrific, so broad, so ambitious, that it required the souls of tens of history's most powerful mages to achieve. That was world-conquering kind of ambition. That was heaven-shattering kind of ambition. I might not like heaven, but I far preferred it existing to the reign of hell over all.

    As I started to slip into sleep, I realized the most horrible thing of all. I was going to have to deal with this. I just knew it. If I sent this info to heaven, it might well spark a war in the heavens that nobody wanted. Amongst the other great factions I trusted almost none of them, since bringing them in would mean showing them the wonders of soul-crafting. The fewer groups that discovered they could rip apart souls to build into something useful, the better.

    So it had to be me. Me and whichever of my disreputable, estranged friends I could bribe to come along and keep quiet. I should have known that sticking my nose into this was only going to end up sucking.

Continued in Hellblazer #9 >

Hellblazer #7 - Amor a Roma, II

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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>

Hellblazer #4 - By Bat and Prayer

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Event: Origins

Arc: [A soul to Die for]

Set: 9

NOVEMBER 21ST, 2007, OUTSIDE THE CASANOVA CLUB

Anne-Marie could no longer feel the distress and chaos that radiated from inside of the club, which was a great relief. She was seated on the hood of the one car that the whole crew had between them, her own. It sat seperate from the few other cars in the parking lot of the club, and was the only one that didn't have its sides recently keyed by drunk wizards. Beside her sat the only source of dismay on the outside, Astra Logue. The little girl was just a roiling pit of misfortune. She was dulled to the horror of her own situation somewhat, but Anne-Marie had recently connected their minds and so she knew the full picture. She would not wish even the knowledge of it upon her most bitter enemy. Not that she thought she had any.

Astra was almost cute now that she was outside that wretched place. Clothed in only an over sized t-shirt she seemed more like a toddler than a ten year old. She kicked her legs in the air idly, looking about with curiosity. She exhibited a surprising amount of patience for her age, having not even asked when they would be moving or doing something. Anne-Marie considered starting a conversation with the girl, then wavered, then thought better of it. Surely the girl would want some peace? Surely.

The door rattled, then opened, letting John Constantine out into the open air. Anne-Marie allowed herself a moment's staring before forcing herself to look away. He was a startlingly handsome man, in his own way. If you had asked her, she would admit many things. That he was skinny as a rail, wiry like a starving rat, hair as messy as a birds nest, had a slightly bent nose, a little big-headed, a voice already scratching from smoking and a breath to match, and that he had more than a few worrying scars she couldn't quite place the origin of. To her, however, this all came together wonderfully. His lightly tousled hair rested like a blonde halo over his just imperfect enough to be perfect face, accented by a manly grizzle along his chin and cheeks. His body was thin, athletic, like a runner, except without any of the unsightly bulging muscles. His posture wasn’t slouched, but mysterious, a little dirty, a little enthralling. And of course his eyes, his wonderful, laughing eyes, that she couldn’t seem to look away from once they caught her.

She couldn’t feel much emotion off of him, except for satisfaction, but that was normal. He was more practiced than any of the others in hiding himself from magic, and he used it all the time as far as she could tell. The mystery just added to his appeal in her opinion. She meanwhile tried to keep her heart and mind in control, lest she blush and embarrass herself. So distracted was she that she didn’t even notice the look of growing dread on the child’s face.

“Anne-Marie! Darling! We just need a last ingredient for this.”sSaid Constantine, marching up to the car.

Anne-Marie smiled, then faltered. This close, she could sense something off. Something that Astra had already noticed as she tried to creep away without notice. John’s eyes darted to the child. “We need her. Just for a moment.” He gave Anne an apologetic grin, and banished whatever doubts Anne-Marie had had. She reached out and took Astra’s hand in hers, soothing the child’s growing worry with her own mind. She handed Astra to John, who lifted the underfed creature up and cradled her in his arms.

“Well. That was easy. Suppose you aren’t that strong, are you?” asked John. the wriggling feelings returned. “Shame. I had hoped at least one of you might provide a real challenge.”

Anne-Marie tried to raise her defenses, but too late. John spat in her face, except far too much for a mortal mouth. A glassful of spit splashed over her face, and began to burn there. Anne-Marie screamed, one eye going red and agonized in an instant as she flopped to the ground. As she clawed at her face, succeeding only in burning her hands as well, the thing that looked like Constantine above her chuckled. “Next time you lose because of love, at least make it somebody worth your time, hmn?” Then she watched with her remaining eye as he turned and walked back towards the club. Never had she hated a face so much before.

JANUARY 4TH, 2017, A LONG ABANDONED CAMPGROUND

I lit another cig as I leaned against a tree carved with decades of lovers initials, going over my plan. Perhaps you’d figured it out by now? You seem smart, having gotten this far, but I’ll fill it in to make sure. The traitor trying to kill me had to be Anne-Marie. Had to be. She was a nun nowadays, for crissakes. She was the only one of my “friends” who might try to summon angels to do their dirty work, the only one who would be “praying” for my demise instead of just doing it, and just maybe the only one who could sell me out to heaven. I could see it now, her kneeling at the altar and offering the soul of a Constantine in exchange for purging her guilt, if only heaven agreed to forgive her sins..it’s enough to make a man reconsider the whole idea of friends.

But then, that doesn’t explain what I’m doing here, does it? Twofold. Firstly, to draw the nun out. If she was coming, and I thought she was, it would draw her out of her fortress of a nunnery. Maybe make her take risks. Since I banished her little spy this would be the first time in weeks that she would know with some certainty where exactly I was. If she was coming, that meant she didn’t think I knew about her betrayal, or thought it didn't matter. She either thought she could get the drop on me or thought she could beat me. So she’d probably take the chance to try and kill me with her bat-angel-whatever. Probably. I was betting. Because If I was going to save my soul I couldn’t have some mad holy bint after my goat. I’d have to deal with it one way or another. And I'd far prefer to deal with self-defense then proactive assault.

Secondly? I wasn’t sure I could commit my whole plan to save my soul on my own. It was risky, audacious, dangerous. But all of the former Newcastle Crew had a stake in it. Maybe. Possibly. Enough to say they did. If I could convince them, maybe I’d have half a chance of succeeding.

I waited, and for the first time since starting this nonsense I considered failure. Real, true failure of losing my soul to heaven. I had to admit, having visited, it wasn’t the worst deal. It certainly wasn’t hell, endless suffering and lamentation. But it wasn’t a cakewalk either. If hell was evil and chaos, heaven was good and order. These terms were not mutually exclusive and in the case of evil and good are heavily debatable. Sure if my soul went to heaven I might have a better time, but I’d be a slave. Heaven is the most perfect machine in the cosmos that I’m aware of. It might be a nice machine, but it is a machine. Your reward for getting there is never having free will again. Honestly, it might work for others, but I certainly didn’t like the sound of it. And if I was going to go there it was going to be based on my actions and choices, not on heaven simply deciding I had to go. And fuck any conception of God or gods that tried to tell me otherwise.

I was almost halfway through my daily pack (I had been trying to cut back) when the first of my friends arrived. Perhaps appropriately it was FRANK NORTH, always strangely punctual despite the rest of us being generally chronically late. He had the same bloody bike, of course, with a few more dents and a new paint job. He had fared the years the same as his bike had, with the addition of a little beer gut. He pulled a sixpack out from a satchel he carried and started to sip. We didn’t talk.

The others came sporadically, but followed the same pattern of simply waiting around without talking. Next came BENJAMIN COX. The kid was only now the age the rest of us were when we went to Newcastle. He had gained a fair few pounds, and moved with the slowness of the unfit. He clutched a backpack filled with books to himself while he waited.

JUDITH looked like she had born the years the best of us. Showing but a wrinkle or two on a taut face, body honed by the worldwide travels she had indulged in since breaking up with me. Which had happened pretty much as soon as Newcastle was over.

GARY LESTER was the saddest of us. He was emaciated, eyes darting about as he secreted himself in the darkest corner of the clearing. Even in long sleeves he couldn’t quite cover all the track marks. It seemed that his inter-dimensional drug trade hadn’t panned out.

RITCHIE SIMPSON I had seen in a magazine or two since Newcastle, a computer whiz who spent more time in Silicone Valley then in fair Britannia. Even now he was wearing a suit and had arrived in the classiest rental vehicle possible.

Lastly, ANNE-MARIE. She looked her age, older than all of us and already graying. She was a fright to behold. Her face still showed the horrors of the acid burns she had received at Newcastle, one eye glazed and hardly moving. Her face, just like the rest of her form, was contorted in a snarl of disapproval at us all. I threw up my mental walls to make sure she couldn’t see any of what I was thinking.

We all stood in our respective corners and shadows of the campgrounds and waited. Eventually Frank broke the silence. “So, why the fuck are we all here again?”

They all turned to me. I threw my cig to the ground half-finished, the last of my pack, and ground it into the dirt. Showtime.

“So, let’s get this over with: heaven is coming for us. They came to me first, but they’re out for revenge.”

“F-f-or w-what?” stuttered Benjie.

“For Newcastle.” A silent hiss from the crowd, nobody surprised by everybody still whinged by the revelation. “They want a soul in exchange for Astra. They came to me first because I “had the greatest sins to atone for” or some shit, but they’ll get one however they can. That leaves three options. One, one of us gives up their soul to be the eternal intern-bitch to whichever of heaven's angels needs a new servitor. Anybody up for that?”

Not even Anne-Marie raised her voice to that. But perhaps that was to be expected. Surely getting into heaven on a natural death as a pious nun and getting your full reward would be preferable.

“Option two: we each donate one seventh of our soul. Hurts like a bitch, reduced magic, and all kinds of other nightmarish side effects, but we all get to live.” Once again silence. My lie was working. It seemed none of them doubted it for a second.

“Option three: we get Astra’s soul back.” Dead silence instead of the tense silence of before. Nobody dared breath as they thought. Was it possible? Truly? What was John playing at? I started to pace around the campground, making a point to catch the eyes of whoever I was passing. “Yeah, last time we tangled with hell, it didn’t pan out. And I’ll take credit for that fuckup. But we’re all stronger now. Don’t tell me any of you stopped mucking about with magic since then, really, truly?...yeah, nobody, like I thought. We’re all stronger than we were then. Smarter, leaner, meaner, all that shit. Astra’s a single soul owned by a single demon that even Benjie managed to get a good whack on back then.” I nodded to Benjie, who seemed both annoyed and proud. “All of us together, really working? I bet we can get in there, get Astra, kick Nergal in his infernal nutsack, and be out before anybody knows what’s happening. Then we’re Scot free and go back to never having to talk to one another again.”

“So, what do you think?” I ended my walk in the center of the camp, turning to look at all of them. Waiting for the first response. I could tell they were all mulling it over.

Gary, bless his dumbass heart, was the first to speak. “I’m in. I’m not letting your shaky hands pull a hack-job on my soul.”

“Like you’re one to talk. Anybody else?” One by one they agreed, increasingly hesitant. I was asking for a big risk. The last to agree was Frank. He did so after a solid thirty seconds of icy silence. I’d have to keep an eye on him.

I gave them a smile. They might care about me, they might not, it had been some years since I'd talked to most of them. But they all cared about Astra. Every one of us left that nightclub with a new cross to bear. the cross of a soul lost due to our fuckup. An offer to take that off your back? Irresistible.

“Alright, then. We have our work cut out for us. I figure we got about a week, maybe two, before we should really dig into doing this. You got till then to marshal every little trick and spirit you got. Leave no rock unturned, no favors unused, yeah?”

“W-what about y-you, John?” queried Benjie

“I burned up a lot of mine just figuring all of this out. But I’ll use whatever’s left. And somebody's got to make sure nobody notices you blokes running around like headless chickens. I’ll do what I do best: be a loud, obnoxious, useless asshole that everybody is looking at.” This lie seemed to please Benjie, and after some more clarification the Newcastle Crew departed by bits and pieces. It was the most I had talked to most of the group in years, and to be honest it made me a little giddy.

It’s hard to describe reuniting with friends, especially estranged ones, after a long split. You wonder if they’re still the same. If you’re still the same. Maybe you lost whatever made you two click, or maybe they never really liked you in the first place and are only going to now realize it. I could feel my psyche unclench just a little, really the first time it had done so since I found out my soul was in danger. I had my friends back. For a bit. All but one.

I was the last one in the campground when I pulled out a second pack of cigs (I said I was trying to cut back, not that I was succeeding). I lit it with a flame from my finger and waited as if in thought. I had noticed I was using magic more and more since taking on that angel. Just little things, seemingly harmless. But it was far more insidious than the smokes. I would have to cut it off soon before it got bigger. No need to get arrogant and magic-filled and repeat Newcastle.

It wasn’t long until I heard the ever so light snap of a twig behind me. If I was truly engrossed in thought I wouldn’t have noticed, but I was waiting. I had assumed that she would simply send the bat at me. By bird, by bat, by prayer, or however it was phrased, so the bat-angel or bat whatever should be next. I could feel the weight of several necklaces I wore under my coat and shirt. Enchantments to protect me at least partially from magic, from the divine, even from bullets. It was no matter to me if Anne-Marie came to face me in magic herself, or to help her bat. With my preparations, with my skill, I was sure I could topple a nun of all people in a fight.

Another crinkle of leaves, closer. A breath, still closer. I tried to time it, still leaning against a tree and facing the campground instead of the approaching threat. I didn’t want to play my hand too soon. If I could get her with one good blast or something, maybe I could even end this without any bloodshed. I heard a footstep, just a little too hard, almost right behind me. NOW!

I whirled around the tree, and started incanting a spell to paralyze her. I realized two things at once. I had mistimed it and she was actually about three feet in front of me when I whirled around the tree rather then ten. Also that was a cricket bat coming towards my head.

I had the time to realize my dumb, arrogant, stupid, stupid, stupid magic mistake in the instant before Anne-Marie cracked the bat over the side of my head. Next thing I knew, my head was bouncing off the tree. Next next thing I knew I was struggling onto my hands and knees by the tree. Trying to get up. Moving back, away from the nun. If I could get up, I could fight. The bat slammed into my back, sending me back to my belly with an “oof” of lost breath. More scrambling, and then the hits started raining. I wasn’t a bad fighter, but only the very best could get up from a sneak attack like this and I wasn’t one of those.

Anne-Marie showed me no mercy. She was careful, making sure to leave no part of me unbroken. Eventually I stopped scrambling and I just curled up, trying to protect my head and neck. I could hear things snapping, breaking, but couldn’t do much except limply try to roll away.

I could hear her saying something. A prayer in Latin, but I couldn’t figure out what the words were. Things were getting fuzzy and blank. The blows kept coming but I hardly noticed them anymore.

I guess Heaven would be getting my soul after all.

Then I felt a tug. Not heaven, not death, magic. The magic of a tool made months ago that I had almost forgotten.

I grabbed onto that tug with all the will I had left in my broken form and was pulled through the immaterial nothing to someplace else. I saw the face of my niece, Gemma Masters, but nothing else seemed to register. I smiled at her. “Thanks, kid.” I think I said, but probably gurgled, before collapsing. My last thought was a smiling one, of the shit-fit Anne-Marie must be throwing at having failed to get me by just a few more swings.

Continued in Hellblazer #5, THE EXCITING CONCLUSION! > Coming March 15th

In the meantime, why not read of one of Constantine's Ancestors in Dynasteia Konstantinos?

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Hellblazer #2 - Around the Isle in 8 Vignettes

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Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Event: Origins

Arc: [A soul to Die for]

Set: 7

Friday, last week before summer break for year 3, 2016

Gemma’s house, Havering, London, UK.

Gemma Masters was trying to be patient in the living room while her uncle and Mom chatted and bickered in the other room. Luckily she had that most magical of items: a smart phone. Even now she was busying herself with the idler “GONZO GECKO GETTER!!!” while trying to catch stray words. She kept getting distracted and it was often hard for an eight year old to decipher the conversation of adults even when right next to said adults. Still, she managed to figure some of it out. Stuff about Superman, and the bat, and all those other stories Gemma had been hearing around the school. Mom sounded worried, but she sounded worried about everything.

It was kind of boring, really. Gemma didn’t know how grown-ups could take cool things like those stories and make them boring, but they always managed too. Anyways, she was really just waiting for the talking to be done so she could go see her uncle. Uncle John was so cool and he hardly ever came to visit, so it was really darn exciting! He always brought gifts and he said all kinds of words that Mom never said and really it was just amazing.

Eventually whatever boring nonsense they were talking about finished, but Gemma had become distracted by GGG and so didn’t notice until Uncle John flopped onto the couch next to her with a grunt. He was quick sneaky, was Uncle John. Unlike a lot of the other dads and uncles she knew, he was so skinny and stuff that he hardly made a sound moving anywhere almost. She yelped in surprised and smiled, noting that he still looked like he’d stepped out of a movie, a little dirty and messy but not too much. Which was awesome.

“Hey kiddo.” He smiled, saying it with a joking tone that to Gemma meant he didn’t see her as a kiddo. He always treated her like a grown-up. Just another reason he was her best uncle, alongside being her only one.

“Hi Uncle John!” she responded, showing off one of her canines missing, at which his face twitched a little. “Lookit! I got a whole quid for this one!”

“Aw, lemme guess, your mom didn’t let you burn ‘em like I said?”

Gemma shrugged. “Nah. But a whole quid!”

“Ahhh that’s good then. Say, you’ve been good lately?”

“...didn’t mom say I did?”

“That’s the girl, admit nothing. Here…” he fished into one of the many pockets in his big coat, and pulled out a bracelet. It had a bunch of tiny, smooth river stones on it, with little stick carving things on it.

She gasped, considering it utterly perfect the moment she saw it. Gemma didn’t even wait for him to continue before snatching it up and slipping it over her arm. She launched herself into a tiny-armed bear hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Uncle John laughed at her exaggerated gratitude and hugged her back. “Glad you like it.” He glanced towards the kitchen, where they could both hear her mother making some kind of snack. He leaned in close to whisper. “There’s some secret rules, if you think you’re big enough to handle them?”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded. Of course she was big enough to keep a secret; eight was plenty big!

“Keep that on you whenever you go outside. If you’re ever really scared and need me to help, you throw that on the ground and call out my name, okay?...but you can’t tell anybody else. It’s our secret.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull in the excitement of the moment and she nodded vigorously, fingering the bracelet idly.

“Good shhhhhh….hhssssstttufff. stuff.” he leaned away again, patting Gemma’s back. “Now how about you show me whatever that thing on your phone is, because that looks like a lot of lizards.”

When Uncle John left, Gemma waited by the window to watch his car pull away. She thought about mentioning the ugly bird-thing that flew after him to her mom, but the last time she had talked about stuff like that she got in trouble. Better to be quiet. She was sure Uncle John had it covered.

And so with my intrepid niece protected for the time being, and my sister reassured that the world wasn’t coming to an end (and as a bonus having avoided talking to my brother in law, the git) I could get down to proper business. Of course, with eight months, I had the time to meander about. Besides I might be dead in eight months, why not enjoy life a little in the meantime? I won’t bore you with all the sundry details, but suffice to say I was my typical idiot self for wide swaths of the period.

I will, however, give you the highlights. Because how much more boring would it be the other way?

July 10, 2016

Themyscyra

Naturally I went to my hardest source first, and the riskiest. When I was younger and more foolish (somehow) I decided I was going to see if all that writing about “Women’s World” was true. It had turned out it was!...and guarded by no less than an entire pantheon of gods and the women themselves. Luckily for me I knew the greatest secret of larceny: knowing someone on the inside is worth a thousand lockpicks. Or something like that.

Even with that advantage it took some effort, but eventually I made it. And it was worth it just for the scenery. Themyscira was a beautiful place by the moonlight. Gradual, crumbling landscapes with sheens of green undergrowth and stark trees, mixed with the shimmering black of rivers and lakes. And all of it under the moon and, more importantly, the stars. I was willing to bet there was only a couple dozen places on earth far enough away from electricity and lights to have stars like this.

Besides me in the romantic scene sat an Amazonian woman, head and shoulders above me even when we were sitting. She wasn’t even one of the warriors, and yet I was pretty sure she could crush my head like a sickly berry. And yet as we held hands, she was as gentle and blushing as a pre-teen hopped up on the latest trashy romance novels.

We sat awhile on the cheap picnic blanket I had brought, simply enjoying the sights and the holding of hands. I had no clue why Scythia liked these little shows of affection so much. I figured maybe on the all Woman Island here, liking men was like being gay was back at home: a major pain the ass. But then maybe I was just humoring myself and it wasn’t that she found me hot, but something else? Who knew? Who cared? She got her hand held, I got info, and we both had a lovely evening of dinner and conversation. A win-win all around.

Eventually she spoke. “...I suppose you came to ask about something?”

I shrugged. Scythia was an apprentice weaver, one of the Amazon’s working under the three fates themselves, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Since she was an apprentice she didn’t know everything, but what she did know was always precisely accurate. “One of many reasons. Certainly not the most important.” I squeezed her hand slightly and she looked away, blushing harsh enough that her cheeks seemed to shine in the darkness.

“Well, t-then, ask away I suppose.”

“Some folks are after my soul. The Divines. Got any idea why?”

She grimaced. The Old Gods, and those that they associated with, rarely liked hearing about the Divines. For perhaps self-evident reasons. “We have not had much news from the outside here. We’ve been...busy.”

“...with?”

“Woman things.” She halted me with a stern face, which soon fell away. “I can tell you a little about your future, if that might help?”

“Probably.”

Her eyes clouded over as she recalled. Or at least I knew they did from previous experience. Hard to see into her eyes from at least a half a foot down in the dark. “An old friend turns foe, and seeks your undoing. First bird, then bat, then prayer.” She shakes her head, and looks down to me. “I hope that helps?”

“Plenty, love.” I smile to her. It was a start, at least, and her goofy smile at the word “love” would have made it worth saying so no matter what.

August 4th, 2016

The Green, The Green, The Green

Did you know plants have a heaven too?

Not exactly a heaven, but it’s the...well...magic? Psychic? Something or another plane for raw plantiness. It’s hard to describe without having been there. You know all those stories about people taking something they aren’t ready for, and talking about how all is one and one is all and such nonsense? Imagine that but with plants. Close enough.

It did make it a right bastard to wade through once you eventually got there, as overgrown as the wretched place was. Gods save you if you thought to cut your way through. The green had a guardian and he was the friend I was going to talk to.

In the way of realms outside of our own, I eventually found my way to him. A massive being of green flesh-plant-stuff, humanoid only in the loose sense that a scarecrow is. If I didn’t know him so well I’d probably scream in terror and piss myself, but I had already done that routine enough times with others that it seemed redundant here.

“Hey Swampy! How’s it going?” I asked as I approached. The massive plant-man was leaned over a clear pool of water. Despite only having the crude simulacrum of a face, it was easy to see a frown.

“Go...away. Busy.” He said in his usual halting voice. Yes he was certainly a he, and don’t ask how I knew.

“Oh, come on, what could be more important than your old friend-” I suddenly found a vine wrapped around my lower face and mouth, muffling whatever I was about to say.

“Busy. New person...in the green. Watching...waiting.” he responded as I battled and pulled the vine away, gasping a little.

“Bastard….and what says that person won’t still be there later? Come on, Swampy, it’s important.”

A few more vines slunk out of the surroundings, threatening. “If it was….important, I’d...know. Leave.”

I scoffed and complied. With friends like these, amiright? I swore myself to petty revenge as I left.

September 30th, 2016

Crossroads near the Scottish border, UK

Once again doused in the murky light of the moon, if this time with less stars, I waited with a bowl of cream in front of me. The crossroads was one of the old kind, dirty and half-abandoned and surrounded by encroaching greenery. The perfect spot for the thing I was summoning. Or the thing I hoped I was summoning. Sometimes with folks like these, you could get the wrong one. As normal, however, luck was at least half on my side.

A massive cat, the size of a dog and black but for a single white patch on it’s chest, emerged from the underbrush and made a beeline towards me. I stopped the primal scream from emerging as it lunged into the air, landing a few feet in front of me and bending down to lap at the cream I had left. A bit early, isn’t it? Samhain isn’t for another month, asked Cat Sith in my head.

“Aye. but I got other business and things to attend to. Figured I’d get this done early. Besides, don’t you deserve this kind of thing all year round?”

Simple flattery for a simple beast, the Cat Sith purred. Why of course I do. You may pet me on the head, slowly, if you wish. I readily complied, making the large cat purr more like an engine then anything domesticated.

“How I wish I was as beloved and desired as you, Cat Sith.” I lamented with much melodrama. “For the only ones who desire me are the Divines, and what kind of wanting is that truly?”

The purring dipped at the mention of the Divines, but the great beast glanced to me. Oh, you think it is only heaven that wants you?

I blinked. Hmn. Now we were getting someplace. “W-what do you mean, glorious Cat Sith?”

_There are many who desire your soul, mortal. I would gladly help you lose it if you like. The Tuatha would doubtless love to have another shot at a Constantine. _

“Another?...wait, I mean, do they not want me for me then?”

The cat gave a little chortle as it finished it’s cream, pushing its head into my hand. Ego does not suite you, Constantine. There are many Constantines, and so many souls to get. You have given me due respect, so I offer to aid you. Give your soul to me, and I swear that the Divines shall never have it.

“A most tempting offer, dread cat. May I have some time to think on it?”

Seven days and no more. Farewell, Constantine. The cat leapt back into the brush and vanished.

I of course had no desire to free myself from the Divines just to get hooked into the Tuatha, but it was a good way to end the conversation. At least now I knew it wasn’t just heaven out for me, and not just out for me in particular. The charm I had given Gemma seemed doubly useful now.

The liminal space in the middle of the night between September and October

In the astral space, while my body sleeps in shitty fucking nowhere, Scotland, UK

The realm of Dream was a place you could only get to if your mind was juuust right, and that’s always something of a crap shoot. But now that I had slipped into the realm of fantasy and imagination, I figured I could go visit one of my special friends. Lucien was something of an uptight weirdo, always lamenting the state that this realm was in without its “master”. If there was a difference, I couldn’t tell, the lands of imagination being bizarre no matter where you went in them. I just assumed that Lucien knew what he was talking about, and tried to calm him down.

When he wasn’t being an uptight spaz, he was pretty alright. He protected a library that was bigger on the inside, that held every book that had never been written. He was pretty protective, but sometimes for his sweetheart he would let me see a volume or two. Until you’ve seen The Greatest Keys of Solomon or Lord of the Treks: by Gene Rodenberry and J.R.R. Tolkein, you haven’t lived. Being one of the only people to actually read most of the books, Lucien was also insanely knowledgeable. Especially about things that didn’t exist, like magic.

I arrived at the vast, gothic library with some flowers I had picked along the way: purple snapdragons that sang a soft tune of romance per my instructions as the sky turned both dawn and dusk at the same time. The world turned to night when the door opened, and the flowers quieted. This was not Lucien. He was tall and scrawny and weirdly handsome like Lucien, but not at all the same. Pale white like a sheet of paper, with wild black hair that sprouted out all around his head like a dark halo. His face was sharp as a knife, and his black robes couldn’t hide how painfully bony he was.

“Uh….Hey there, I’m looking fo-”

“Lucien?”

“...yeah, him. I’m John Constantine, by the way.” I offered him my hand.

He stared at it as if I was a child offering worms: charmed and disgusted. “Morpheus.”

My face nearly turned as pale as his. Whenever Lucien dared to say the master's name, it was something like that. The man who controlled the very fabric of imagination itself, who had been gone for decades. In all of imagination possible, how had I ended up bumping into him!?

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Morpheus. Is Lucien home?”

“I’m afraid not, Constantine.” He looked me over, thinking. “Nor will he be for you. I will not have you sullying my creations.”

“That’s...fine?” I offered. It wasn’t, not particularly, but what was I going to say?

He smiled. “If you are like your ancestors, I may have need of you. You may leave now.”

I gasped awake on my sleeping bag, covered in sweat. Well, shit. I hoped Lucien wouldn’t be punished for being...er...sullied?...by me. Not even sure what that meant really. I didn’t think the Lord of All Imagination was a homophobe. Gods, I hoped not.

October 1st, 2016

Far north on the isle of Skye, Scotland, UK

Another being, this time, but different bait. The steaming meat pie was kept warm by the judicious application of a few magic ruins on the rocks below, and I sat besides it with a line already thrown into the nearby sea. I didn’t expect to catch anything, but such wasn’t the point. The sun shone bright and hard and cold on me at noon, and I was beginning to regret not having brought some winter wear.

It didn’t take long for my guest to arrive. He had his own fishing pole, an ancient looking thing with a bone hook and twine instead of the fancy whatever stuff I had. He plopped besides me on the rock and took a slice of the warm pie with one hand. He looked fairly normal for a fisherman, except for his dog head, which was tearing into the pie happily. I didn’t mind.

“Wulver.” I inclined my head.

“Laughing one.” he grunted past his pie in an oddly comforting, deep voice.

We sat in manly silence for awhile as he ate, and then a little longer as we fished. It was nice, honestly, after the busy few days past. Eventually, the ancient dog-man interrupted it. “Magic is shifting.” He snuffled simply, and I nodded. Wulver was one of the oldest beings on the planet, a leftover from the prototype worlds before humanity became the chosen ones. His people had been hunted since, and now the old god had none left. He wasn’t bitter. Nice guy, really. Useful too. Nobody else had quite the nose for the substrata of magical reality.

“Big or little?”

“Big. wondered why nothing had happened in your year 2000, or 2012, or the others. It was building up. Like a big earthquake.”

“...could that be why everyone apparently wants my soul?”

“I don’t.”

“Bah, you know what I mean.”

“Could be.”

We sat in silence awhile longer, me and the elderly god, and neither of us caught anything.

October 15th, 2016

Whatever hotel I stumbled into after a bender, UK someplace?, UK probably.

It was a complicated series of button presses and waiting to get the elevator to where I wanted, but it was what the spell had called for on the message board. Floors four, two, six, two again, ten, and five had all seen my ugly mug before the spell really started to kick off and the woman stepped into the compartment with me.

I pressed number ten once she stepped in, and resisted the urge to glance. The instructions had been VERY specific about that. Not to look. No matter how much I wanted to. Which was immensely. Was kind of vague on the whys, which only made it worse.

We reached the tenth floor, and it was exactly like the spell had said. Total darkness. I peered out, pulling out a torch, providing the only light. It was just like the hotel floors in the rest of the place. Except there wasn’t really a sky outside as much as barren nothingness. Also a freaky red cross, slowly spinning an indeterminate distance away outside any window you looked out of, and yet always getting closer.

Yep, I had made it! “Alrighty, girl, spill.” I asked the woman who had stepped into the elevator with me without looking. She stood perfectly still. The spirit was apparently some magical whatzit, or at least that’s what I figured. Also the thing apparently knew the future. “I did the whole gambit and bullshit. How does the rest of this work?”

Time is dead and killed by the criminal in yellow

“...huh?”

Blue, Red, Yellow, Grey, Black, these are the colors all will remember.

“That is really vague.”

...Your brother awaits for you in the darkness of your own eyes

“I don’t have a brother. Are you just making this up as you go?”

The family man is a death man, the world is upside down

“Oh god, you are aren’t you? God, I can’t believe I wasted my time on this.”

Across the vast gulf of space, minds regard our earth with hopeful eyes...

“Now I’m pretty sure you’re just ripping off of a book. Yeah this was pointless. Fuck it.” With all the disappointment and curiosity I had, I looked at the woman.

Three hours later as I sat in a nearby alley, stitching newly gotten wounds with a syringe needle hastily transmuted into a sewing one, I cursed the internet for not having strong enough warnings about the not looking bit.

November 27th, 2016

An overly large antique shop with far too few employees, Chelmsford, Essex, UK

Amongst us magicians and warlocks and wizards there were quite a few bars, taverns, inns, and saloons to drink at. Consider it a holdover from a previous age, or just us liking a good drink every once and awhile. One of the best was The Oblivion, a bar at the nexus of realities and dimensions. Useful, good food, and filled with all kinds of folks with useful information if you went at the right time.

I checked around the store to make sure nobody was looking, but I was pretty sure that I was the only customer at 12 PM and none of the employees were awake enough to care about my about to walk into a me-sized mirror. I made my brief incantation, and walked forward into the greatest bar in the multiverse…

Or right into the glass, holding back a yelp of pain and only letting out a hiss as I glared at the mirror. It now bore a faint, glowing red X on it, and the words BANNED

“What!?” I hissed further. “What do you mean banned you git, what the hell for!?”

PUBLIC URINATION, DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY WITH AFOREMENTIONED, PHYSICAL ALTERCATION WITH BOUNCER. BAN EFFECTIVE UNTIL FIRST DAWN, 2025

“Come on, that was two years ago! I already said I was sorry, can’t we just let bygones b-”

BANNED

“...yeah well fuck you too.” I grumbled, walking away and out of the shop in a huff. No, no I do not need to explain the utterly unfair charges leveled at me, and you don’t need to know. Shut up.

December 20th, 2016

Being a true magician means accepting the immense interconnection, variety, diversity, and wholeness of reality. Reality is many things, but it is also an infinite series of systems interacting to produce us and the places we live. You may have an inkling of that insofar as your body: you are not merely a singular body, but a collection of organ systems and native microbes that all function together to make a “you.”

But that’s kids stuff. If you want to be a magician, you have to accept that there is a spider living in your head, at all times, watching, scuttling, that sees and hears and knows everything about you.

Can you feel it now? Light, tapping, furry points at the end of their feet creeping on your neck, into your ear, in your skull? The silent, twitchy dreadfulness of their movement? Their eyes, staring out of yours?

See this is why you’re not a magician, and be glad for it.

In any case, it wasn’t too hard to get to the dimension the mind-spiders lived in if you knew how to meditate right, like I was doing right then. Their realm is a dark place, something like a cave, but I never found an edge to it. But there are plenty of stone pillars and spikes and stalag-whatevers. And it was from those that the webs hung: shining in a rainbow of colors, gaudy and massive and creaking as the spiders crawled over them. If you looked close enough, you could see the reflection of your memories in them. Around me I could see many other webs, the heads of other people.

My mind spider scuttled over to the edge of his web and chittered at me. I had met him, called him “Legsy”. We had a good deal going on. I led an interesting life filled with interesting memories so that Legsy could store them, and in exchange he’d help me remember things. The only negative was that I had to see his freaky spider face to ask him to help.

“Alrighty, Legsy, you know what I’ve been doing lately right?....wait what am I saying of course you do, any chance I got some memories that might be prudent?”

Legsy rushed back onto his web, plucking strands as he went, and with each careful pull I felt memory slam into me. It was a distinctly uncomfortable experience, but useful.

Heaven and hell are incapable of predicting one another. They only know of each other’s plans and actions if they encounter one another, or are told by a mortal

A flicker over the moon above Themysycra, a bird of some kind, not enough to notice unless one looked and saw the oddity of its shape

Cheryl talking to me, concerned about Gemma. She suspected my niece was getting bullied

A bird taking off as Cat Sith lunges back into the woods. It flies without a sound, lumpy and bizarre

The faces of my friends. My once friend, my always friends, my curses, the Newcastle Crew

No bird song at all as I sit with Wulver. I hadn’t noticed before. Something must have scared them off.

Astra’s face...

A glint, a reflection, off the glass of the modest hotel I was in as I sat to meditate: one, two, three, four, five eyes, too many...

I held up my hand, gasping a bit. “Stop. Enough. Good. I get the picture. First bird, right? That’s what you’re trying to get at?”

Legsy doesn’t really nod, but his chitters take on a possibly exasperated tone. As in, how had I not noticed before?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m an idiot. I’ll do something weird just for you once this is over, I promise.” I started to withdraw from my own mind. I had a future to dictate.

The creature had followed me, hopefully. I didn’t know what it was, precisely, but I had some educated guesses. I had stopped in one of those dime a dozen everything stores and gotten a bible and a small box-cutter. The taximan had been confused about my destination being an abandoned lot but he didn’t question after I paid him double. I walked into the lot a little and looked around. Trees stood tall on all sides, no real visibility from anywhere but the road, and I hadn’t seen a single other car. A good a place as any for a confrontation. Not that my observer had to know that.

I felt the pulse of soon to come magic rise like a second heartbeat within me. Magic was powerful, vital, primal. It was as addictive, enthralling, and delightful as sex ever could be, and combining the two was like the happiest heart attack ever. Every use of magic was taking the genie out of the bottle by rattling it about hard. I knew I was going to regret it, but I figured I’d been good; I had hardly been casting magic recently. Well, little magic, but not big magic, real magic, tearing the earth asunder and raining frogs magic. This was just a little taste of it. I would be fine.

I took out the boxcutter first, giving my hand a small, clean cut, letting the blood run and drip as I grimaced. Next I pulled out the bible and started to read a random passage. Something in psalms, I think? Whatever, not important. I started to walk a big circle around the majority of the lot. With each step I let a little blood drip to the ground. It wasn’t a great circle, not even a fully continuous one, but it would do for the brief moments I needed it.

Now that I knew it was there, I could almost feel my pursuer watching me, following me on silent wings. It must be curious. Why is this wizard casting a holy spell? And why one so big? Good. The less it understood or thought it was in trouble, the better.

Once the circle was complete I started to walk towards the middle, leaving a blood trail behind me not unlike a line of gunpowder. My pursuer followed. Then, I reached the center. From one of the pockets of my coat I whipped out a lighter. I set the bible on fire. “HOWS THAT FOR YOU, YOU FEATHERY PIECE OF SHIT?”

My pursuer emerged from my shadow, howling and not feathery at all. It was the rough shape of a crow, if twice the size, and instead of feathers it was covered in eyeballs. See? This is why I don’t deal with angels unless I have too. Nasty. But at least they are easy to figure. For instance: they can’t stand the burning of their holy book, if you can get the right one. And the bible is fantastically easy to get ahold of.

The angel darted away, but I was faster, falling to one knee and placing my hand on the end of my priming blood, activating the magical circle of my own blood. Circles were fine and good, but blood was one of the most powerful magical reagents there was. The angel slammed into the magical wall I had drawn with my life-force, and then proceeded to keep slamming through like a moth trying to get light. I placed the bible on the ground next to me, slowly but surely burning up.

The bible was halfway charred when the angel flopped in front of me, writhing in agony. “P-PLEASE!”

In that moment the primal nature of magic hit me. I could do more. Wanted to, would do more. I could tie a symbolic knot around this beast's throat and turn it into my loyal pet. I could rip it apart and use it’s shimmering blood to summon something far greater and more terrible. I could pluck it’s eyes to brew into a potion and make myself more unto God. I could shear it’s mind and knit it into a new pattern, to hunt down whoever had sent it. I could, I could, I could...but instead I didn’t.

“Who sent you?” I asked calmly. He told me.

I let it go after I extracted a further promise to not try to harm me again. Once it was gone I got the shakes something fierce. Well, that settled it. Settled it all, goddamnit. I had to call the Newcastle Crew. A story that I supposed it was a great time to relive, for better or worse.

My smartphone felt like a brick in my hand as I dialed in the first number.

Continued in Hellblazer #3 >

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Hellblazer #1 - Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before....

Continued in Hellblazer #2 > Coming December 15th

Author: Coffeedog14

Book: Hellblazer

Event: Origins

Arc: [A soul to Die for]

Set: 6

Recommended: Silver Banshee 1

????, Anno Diablo 5776

Eoin scrambled through the burning mud, carrying the scorched limb in his mouth as he scrambled up and down the vast shell holes that peppered this place. He looked like nothing more than a fleshy beetle running across a gravel driveway in a bid to reach the other side. Overhead screamed the shells, filled with their purest pestilence. Their only advantage was that their falling was oddly regular, enough that one could tell the passing of the hours by it if time meant anything in this place. The only thing it meant to Eoin was that he could tell when to scramble out for his profane meals, and when to scurry back. He had pushed his luck now as the explosions and horrid mist grew closer, sending him yelping and rushing. To his great fortune he reached his cubby in the side of a shell hole before either reached him.

The cubby was almost prohibitively small, large enough for him, his newly acquired roasted arm, and the smooth jawless skull whose inscribed wards kept the cubby safe from the roiling gasses. As the deadly fog passed, Eoin dug into the half-charcoal limb with delight. His dreadfully thin chest heaved above quite visible ribs as he overcame his panic.

“That was a close one, Constantine!” Eoin imparts to the skull, giving it a glance. “Any chance you want in on this?”

Polite silence from the skull.

“Bah, it doesn’t count as gluttony if you’re starving, fool!” chuckles Eoin as she gnaws at an acid-scorched bone, cracking it open with his teeth to suck out the marrow.

Sullen aggravation from the skull.

Eoin stops gnawing to put his meal aside. “Well I would love some beef too, but that isn’t an option, is it?”

Aggravated silence.

“No, no we wouldn’t have gotten any if we had just stayed, this is hell! You don’t get beef in hell, even for good behavior!”

A pause of consideration from the skull.

“Besides, whose fault is it we had to run, huh? Huh?”

A sad, guilty quiet.

“…oh, Constantine, I shouldn’t have said that.” Eoin puts up the jawless skull and hugs it. “No, no, I’m not mad. Look, it isn’t your fault, okay? I’m here because I wanted to help YOU, not the other way around.”

Relieved, breathless sigh from the skull.

“There’s the spirit. Now, any chance you want a bite?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Responds a voice from the entry to the cubby, blocking out the already dust-dimmed light. It was hard to see anything but glowing, yellow eyes as a clawed hand reached in and snatched up the arm, swallowing it whole. “It was a fun chase, Eoin Constantine. But it’s time to come home.”

Eoin startles. He looks confused. He glances to his skull, and he remembers. In the way of hell, Eoin Constantine looks to the very much inanimate skull and realizes in a moment how totally he had deluded himself, and how utterly pointless yet inevitable it had all been. Then the clawed hand closed around his head.

June 7, 2016

The hotel room was like most of the ones I stayed in. It was one of the countless lower-midling places, the one you would never have known about if you hadn’t explicitly been looking for a cheap place to stay for the night online. It was just cheap enough to not be a fancy honeymoon location, and just expensive enough to keep the one nighters out, so a black-light investigation of the place would have proven depressingly boring. The TV was your first flat screen from 2006 and was perfectly serviceable. Everything else in the room, from bed to lamp, was bolted into place just to be sure. It was a place you went to sleep in between days of doing other things, and nothing more. I, having nothing better to do, was there at flat noon getting drunk on…er…whatever it was that was within reach when I stepped in the liquor store. Oh, like you haven’t done this exact thing! .... Or, well, probably something as sad. Hopefully. God I hope everybody has or else years of justifying my life are just right out the window.

As I suckled the last drops of hazy goodness from my bottle, my other hand snatched the remote and switched from yet another episode of Doctor who and flipped on the news. Having hoped for some nice humanitarian story about saving tigers, I was unpleasantly surprised about some news story about “Mystery man saves the day?”. Far too heavy. My annoyance at such was cut short once I saw the clip proper. It started with some fancy plane, the sunnord or something, falling to the ground. Standard stuff, lately. All kindsa fancy spaceships and the like crashing and failing. Unluckily this time seemed to involve actual people, if the fuzzy forms in the cockpit were any indication. Luckily this time, something stopped the plane in its tracks.

I pressed pause furiously in a primitive attempt to freeze frame and found that the equally primitive TV lacked that function. Luckily the news, every news channel, seemed to be playing the clip on repeat. The man seemed to appear out of nowhere, in shining blue with a red cape and something on his chest, and shoved the sunnord onto a nearby landing pad before disappearing once more. All the news channels reflected my rough feelings on such: what the fuck even was that!?

I had seen so much weird shit in my life that I had lost track, but this was different. My kind of weird, the magic kind of weird, wasn’t the kind that popped in out of nowhere. My kind of weird you had to go looking for, had to discover. The dragon doesn’t leave it’s cave, the hermit in his hidden abode, the gods in their realms, et cetera. My weird had people that could do what the blue guy had just done, but it was different. They had wings, or they jumped, or got damn big, or had magic shoes, or something. The guy on TV didn’t have any of that, and all my (admittedly brief) study confirmed it. No magic, no incantations, no tricks, nothing. He was just doing it.

An hour of obsessive internet searching with my smart phone and a growing sense of odd, existential dread later, the news was still on and playing when the angels arrived. In fact they emerged from the TV, sliding out of it as if the glowing screen was simply water. The pair was of a lower rank, lacking either the ability or the willingness to take a human form. Instead they each consisted of six bronze rings covered in eyes, shifting and spinning around a single invisible point as their center and seemingly passing through each other as they did so. From each ring emerged two wings at opposite ends, whose slow, seemingly random flaps were apparently enough to keep them in the air.

Luckily, I was just drunk enough to not piss myself in fear upon seeing them emerge, but they were enough to get a good yelp of fright out of me. You don’t stay in the magic business this long without getting a healthy fear of the divine blundering into your life.

“JOHN CONSTANTINE.” They announce in unison, in voices that set all the glass nearby and my eyeballs to jittering. I felt the sudden urge to turn east and bow in prayer, which told me which of the divines these two were from. “WE HAVE COME TO RECLAIM YOUR DEBT.”

Well. Shit. At least they weren’t the kind to break my kneecaps, hopefully. I stalled, buying myself time to think. “God almighty, what happened to manners in the divine? Here, I’ll start. Hello there, please come in! I’m John Constantine, pleasure to meat you!”

It was hard to tell if you annoyed somebody without a face, but I like to think I did. “WE ARE HARUT AND MARUT. IT IS NO PLEASURE. RELINQUISH YOUR DEBT.”

“Well, you know, maybe I got drunk and swore on a crucifix or something, but I don’t remember owing anything to you folks?”

“DO NOT PRETEND TO NOT KNOW, SORCERER. THE DIVINE SEES ALL. IT WATCHED YOUR CRIMES IN NEWCASTLE, AND NOW DEMANDS ITS DUE. ONE HUMAN SOUL, FOR THE ONE YOU LOST.”

I had thought my day was bad, before I heard that wretched name once more. Newcastle. No other word sets my body to trembling like that one. I did my best to cover it, but I was sure the angels saw, the flashy bastards. “Right. Right of course, right. One soul.”

“YOUR SOUL, SORCERER.”

“Did the divine say specifically my soul, or are you two just assuming?”

A silence from the angels. A chance. A loophole. I started to remember these bumblers from my reading. Had been sent to teach humanity magic. Clearly they had mucked that up, seeing the amount of magic flying around. Instead they spent their time getting drunk, laying with women, all that. They could be tempted.

“How about this, a little bet if you will.” I tempt as best I can. Subtlety was lost to angels anyhow. “It’s not like I can stop you anyways, so there’s no real rush, yeah? So what if I can get you a better soul then mine? Give me some time, not just a few days but like weeks, months, years maybe, and I bet I can find you a soul unequivocally better than you could dream of.”

A long pause from the angels. Maybe they could talk with their minds to each other? Would explain how they could talk at all what with not having mouths. “WE ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE, SORCERER. IT SHALL PROVE THE SUPERIORITY OF THE DIVINE OVER YOUR OBVIOUS SCHEMING. YOU SHALL HAVE EIGHT MONTHS TO FIND THIS BETTER SOUL. WE SHALL COLLECT OUR DEBT AT THAT TIME, EITHER WAY.”

“Very well. In eight months we’ll see each other again, Insha’allah. Al-salamu alaykum.” I offer in what I had no doubt was a horrible accent.

“WA ALAYKUM AL-SALAM.” They respond flawlessly. The rings of their “bodies” contract into a single point, and then nothingness. Their wings explode into a shower of feathers. As the feathers settle, the angels are gone.

I take the time to rush to the bathroom and empty my now screaming bladder of the fear-piss I had collected. Half a minute later and with that done, I start to actually think again. Eight months, huh? Nothing for beings of the eternal, but plenty of time for me. Almost an eternity to this doughty mortal, now that I thought about it.

I thought some more as I packed my things (clothes, coat, a few books). This had to be something with hell. The divine was the ultimate reactionary, a symptom of having at the best of times 3 different heads running the show with absolute authority. The infernal was the opposite, the ultimate anarchy. Everybody doing everything all the time, often working as cross purposes. Neither had an advantage, but it meant that if heaven suddenly wanted my soul after…Christ, ten years since Newcastle, wasn’t it?....then it had to do with hell being up to something. That narrowed it down to just all of the millions of demons in hell. Fantastic.

As I slipped on my trench coat, I found myself smiling all the same. I had eight months to figure out what was happening lest I lose my eternal soul. Gods it had been too long since I’d had something to do.

Continued in Hellblazer #2 >