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Chapter Text

The deep red of the blood staining her clothes was a similar shade as the dark night sky above her. The dark-haired young woman felt numb, as if she had somehow suddenly lost all of her senses. That was wrong, of course she hadn’t lost all of her senses, she was just coping. Desperately trying to progress what had just occurred in the small church she was leavening behind her. Her long black hair fell down her back and was currently swaying in the cool breeze which had already greeted her the moment she had hurriedly opened the wooden doors of the former Lord’s house. Staggering, the girl had to come back to her senses. There where realisations to be made:

First: Rachel had to recognise the place she had been summoned to as her mother’s former home. Earth. Rachel was on Earth.

Second: She had been summoned here. A fact which meant not only did these people in the small house of prayer know a thing or two about magic, but they had actually managed to bypass Azarath’s protections and barriers.

And third: She was in another dimension, far away from anyone she had ever known. In a world she did not understand and vice versa.

It was all too much and Rachel was sure someone else would have collapsed by now. But she couldn’t let that happen. No, she had to keep going, before someone saw or followed her. And that’s when it struck her: She had killed the people in that church. They were dead. None of these cultists and fanatics would do anything anymore because of her. Not just that, but she had enjoyed it.

Ripping these humans apart, sensing their fright and horror, hearing them scream in panic and pain, smelling the sulphur and the smoke of their ceremony, spilling their blood everywhere inside the old and abandoned chapel. She had liked all of these acts and sensations. It was scaring her. This was the very occasion everyone had always feared would come on day. They had warned her about it, tried to teach her another way. But apparently it was in her nature to ultimately fulfil her dreaded destiny.

The numbness had given way to a strange mixture of both guilt and pride. She wanted to feel guilty, to regret what she had done. And she did, at least a part of her. Another part of her, on the other hand, didn’t. A dark aspect of her being, the one she had always tried to either suppress or ignore, was proud though. Proud and pleased by the massacre that had occurred merely minutes prior. It scared the rest of her even more. Quickly she threw her head back to look up at the blue sky and its stars. They shine like small islands of pure light and hope in an otherwise endless and dark sea. Somehow that thought made her hopeful. Maybe she could make it in this world, at least until she found out how to go back home. …

Chapter Text

Oh, God. Why couldn’t I just say ‘no‘?! I hear it all the time, I say it all the time, so why not this time too?! John Constantine asked himself irritated. But no, he had said ‘yes’, when Zatanna had called and asked for his help concerning an important case. It just turned out the important case was not a regular case of the Justice League Dark, it was a favour to Zee’s old friend from Gotham. Had John known he’d be dragged into the Bat’s affairs, he would have hung up immediately. No, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone at all! If Batman had personally approached Zatanna with this and not just handed it to the whole team officially, it could only mean it was either a family matter or not of official interest to the League. Maybe both which wasn’t good at all. The Brit knew why he stayed away from the Bat and his association. They meant trouble in the worst ways possible: Most of the time criminals, conspiracies, sometimes aliens and meta-humans or even magic.

Not to mention the Bats themselves. Sure one or two of them were okay and people you might actually want to be around, but most of them weren’t. That included Batman himself who was prepared to take out his own, entire team if needed, but had a moral code far too self- righteous for John’s taste. And of course there was the youngest scion of the big man: Damian Wayne. A boy with the ability to inspire antipathy in anyone and everyone he met. The current Robin had a way of looking down at practically every other person in the world that some real demons didn’t possess. And John spoke out of experience.

Still the Hellblazer had let Zatanna talk him into the whole thing. Now there was no turning back anymore. Literally, the exit was blocked by an intimidating figure cloaked in dark shadows, the exorcist knew better than to approach. “You know, next time your ex asks for your help to fight some killer-demon, just say: ‘No’.” He should have than the same, but there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Zee. The only response he got was mother and son clicking their tongues disapprovingly.

The basement they were in was only lit very dimly. The little light that was there barely helped the wizard. The poor lighting didn’t seem to bother the happy vigilante family next to him though. He didn’t feel too good being the only magician in the room, but Zatanna had gone with Nightwing. They had split up to search a wider area.

Preparing himself for a nasty fight, the Englishman didn’t know the demon’s name nor did he recognise the poor human serving as a host. He was pretty sure whoever it was, was one of the assassins that had gone missing. It had drawn the attention of Talia al Ghul, causing an investigation he had been called to too. All in all, the situation didn’t appear very promising to him. John did not know the demon’s name, so he couldn’t banish it. And if the host really was an assassin trained by the League of Assassins – Which John was certain of. He could tell by the concentrated looks of the others. – this would definitely not be pretty.

Next to him he heard swords being unsheathed. John Constantine had tricked gods and cheated the laws of nature and magic alike, he could handle a possessed killer, couldn’t he? He pulled a piece of coal out of his coat’s pocket and drew a pentagram onto his palm, while murmuring an enchantment. It would buy him a bit time, only moments, but hopefully that would be enough. The lines he drew on his palm appeared on the ground, now surrounding the possessed. Unfortunately, John didn’t have any salt with him though. Meaning the cycle would only be a little show, ideally distracting the demon long enough for him to call Zee. 

But that would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it? The exorcist grumbled in his mind. The pentagram had no effect except for its looks and that surely didn’t stop a blood-thirsty demon. Yelling, it jumped towards them. Now John was certain this night would end bloody, and with horrible stains in his laundry. He was ready for blades and Batarangs to be used, in other words for this to become very, very ugly.

What John Constantine did not expect was the door at the end of the stairs leading down to the basement they were currently in to be thrown open. The light which shone through the opening on the other side of the room was blinding for him. He had already gotten used to the dark of the basement. Still he could make out the figure that had opened the door and now stood in the doorway. The dark clothes made it difficult to see any details, especially with the bright light coming from behind the person. But John didn’t need to see her in order to know who that was: His assistant had come to his rescue.

Her black coat was almost the same as his own, aside from its colour and the fact that hers had a hood. At the moment she had her hands and arms extended and firmly spoke a spell. “Circulum ingnis, qui te cingit, describo.” In an instant flames licked at the edge of his cycle, trapping the demon along with the host inside it. But no matter how dramatic her words had sounded, he knew they were just for show. A show she put on for the Bats next to him just like for John himself. Somehow it was hurtful to know she put on an act for him, that she lied to him. After everything they had done together, everything they had gone through, she didn’t trust him with her darkest secret. The truth was she did not need any spells or incantations, mystical artefacts or dirty tricks to overpower any demon. But he was no one to talk. There were bodies hidden in his past he didn’t want to even think about ever again. So he let her be, if there was any need to know, she would tell him, he was sure of it.

“Nice work, lass. Not that I’m complaining, but what’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be –“

“I’m here, because Orchid asked me if she could open your will. And apparently she might have gotten very right to do so if I hadn’t chosen to check on you.” Their mystery saviour interrupted the Brit. She walked down the stairs towards them. She was a young girl, probably a teenager, wearing a pitch black trench coat and stilettos of the same colour. Her hair was short, but the blazing red of its tips stood in contrast to the black of the rest of her hair. The girl whose name was still unknown to most people in the room was half way to them, when a portal opened and Zatanna, Nightwing and Batgirl emerged from the light.

The newcomers registered the dark-clothed girl who seemingly had a close connection to Constantine. Zatanna’s gaze swept over to the fire keeping the demon imprisoned, then to the dark-haired girl and finally back to the blonde Englishman.

“Who is that? Isn’t she a little young for you?” Poison laced her tone, but John had heard this often enough to know how to handle the false assumption. Although he had not expected Zatanna to ask this question. Does she think so little of me? Rachel practically a child, I wouldn’t touch her if my life depended on it. He felt hurt by the insinuation coming from her.

“Gross! I’d like to think I’ve got better taste in men then my mother had.” His apprentice took the words out of his mouth.

“Thanks, lass.” He grumbled sarcastically.

“That doesn’t answer my first question: Who are you?” This time the magician approached the teenager directly.

“She’s my assistant.” John answered, while lighting himself a cigarette. Bullocks, he knew he wouldn’t survive the following conversation without nicotine, he’d drink too, but he didn’t have any alcohol with him at the moment. “Reminds me: Shouldn’t you be at a party in L.A., looking for a lead?” He had turned towards Rachel, when someone else interrupted.

“You have an assistant?! What would someone as incompetent as you need an apprentice for?”

“That’s exactly what he needs me for, at least one of us has to act like a responsible adult. And I was right in front of the Lux, before Orchid told me she was planning your funeral, John. I thought you might have gotten yourself in serious trouble. So I chose to check on you, and as I see it that was a good decision. What was that pentagram for if you don’t steady it with salt or bind the demon with its name?” The way she talked, one got the impression this was a common occurrence. Which was absolutely true, to some extend of course.

“That’s the thing we don’t know the name.” He confessed.

“Wait a second, John. You’ve got an assistant who, by the looks of it, just saved you and captured the possessed we were looking for. Meaning she has done this before. Do you have an idea what you dragged this girl into, John?!” Zatanna screamed the last part at him. And John groaned. He would have loved to scream back at her that he knew this dark side of the supernatural far better than she did and that he hadn’t dragged Rachel into anything, because she had already been down that path, when they first met. Maybe, she was even further down that path than I’ve ever been. He mused. Going by her gifts John believed she had sold her soul to some devil already.

“He didn’t drag me down any path. I chose to go with him willingly.” The girl in question answered for herself firmly. Then she added an almost inaudible.” John gave me a chance to choose the lesser evil.” Before she continued a little louder again. “And can we, please, keep this short. This city is giving me a headache.”

Right, her empathy must be hard on her in a rate hole like Gotham City. Aside from the Brit pitying her in his mind, the rest of the people around him didn’t seem to understand the true meaning of her statement, except for Zatanna perhaps. The stage magician narrowed her eyes. Oh no, she must have picked up on it.

A voice whose owner’s presence in the dark and cold basement John had almost forgotten until now spoke up. “We should retreat back to the Batcave. There you can try to exorcise the demon, so we can interrogate the one it’s possessed, Constantine.” The Hellblazer hadn’t expected the Bat to invite them over. An exorcism could be very unbeautiful and dangerous. Had Batsy forgotten the risks of hosting such a thing in his own house? Well, underneath his own house, but still.