John Constantine is seventeen, angry and entirely ready to lose himself in the occult.
The open book in front of him details a particularly nasty ritual, but not one he’s unwilling to pay the price for. He bought the book from the shop on Eaton street, ‘Occult Exposition’. It’s not a nice shop. The clientele tend to be even dodgier than John and the owner always goes out of his way to make him as uncomfortable as possible.
John supposes that that’s just the price of authenticity.
The book is authentic. He knows that. One of the first things John learned was that the fakes always do well when it comes to flair but never quite catch the essence of a true ritual.
Fully set up in the back garden, John begins his ritual.
He chants and moves and shifts his thoughts in all the right directions. He slits the throat of a rabbit and cuts out the eye of the hawk that caught it. He spins a web of spider silk around the remains and watches it turn into a spun glass cage that contains something entirely different.
John lifts the same knife he used to cut out the hawks eyes and slit the rabbits throat, ready to plunge it into the beating heart the glass now contains.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” a voice calls out from behind him.
John spins around with his knife at the ready to defend himself. Instead if someone attacking him all John sees is a beautiful girl leaning against the dirty wall of his garden shed.
“Are you sure you want to stick around until the police come arrest you for trespassing?” he snarls, caught off guard.
The girl has the gall to roll her eyes. “As if you would call the police.” Considering the garden stinks of weed John supposes that the girl may have a point. “And anyway, I’m just giving you some sound advice. Nothing malicious about me at all.”
John narrows his eyes. “There aren’t many people who offer advice for free.”
“Well maybe I’m just feeling generous today.” the girl says with a grin. The smile drops promptly. “The blood rune won’t work, so you’re just going to be compelled to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you want to rip your heart out and eat it?”
John scoffs even as he sends the blood rune an uncertain look. “The rune is fine.”
The girl shoots him a withering look. “It has to be virgin's blood.”
“It is vir-“ John pauses. Resets. “Oh shit.”
“What? Are you still feeling lucky?”
“Fuck off.” John says on reflex. Then, “Thanks for telling me though. That could’ve been nasty.”
The girl finally smiles properly. Broad and shining and even John is forced to admit to himself that it’s a beautiful smile. “You’re very welcome. My name's Zatanna.” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake.
“John.”
“I know,” she says with a wink as they clasp hands. “If you ever want a little more sound advice then just give me a call. Promise I’m a better option than you ever you got that book from.”
John raises an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what’s put you in such a sharing mood?”
“I said I was feeling generous.” Her expression softens. “I think you’re going to be powerful. The kind of powerful that’s going to get people killed if you don’t know how to handle it. Call me when you’re in trouble.”
When she finishes speaking a wind summons itself up around her. Twisting and twirling until she’s stood in the centre of a spinning tornado. The speed of the wind reaches a climax and dissipates all of a sudden, leaving behind no sign of Zatanna.
John takes a step towards the space she used to occupy and spots something on the ground. It’s a business card. Pristine white with edges sharp enough to cut through flesh. On the card is a name, ‘Zatanna Zatara’, and a phone number.
There are two ‘x’s handwritten below the number and they make John feel oddly warm.
“Fuck.” he says to empty air. “Fuck.”
He turns back to his aborted ritual and starts cleaning up the blood.