Chapter Text
For the last two weeks, the nightmares had been a constant presence every time Jason closed his eyes.
Now, that in itself wasn’t unusual. No living and sane person could go through being beaten by a with a crowbar by a madman, get blown up, be mysteriously and spontaneously resurrected in their own grave, dig their way out of said grave with nothing but a belt buckle, wander in catatonic daze for months, and then get dumped into a glowing pool of resurrection juice that was well-known to drive users insane, and not come out with at least a smidge of PTSD.
But the frequency and intensity of the nightmares at the moment were far worse than what Jason was normally used to. Every detail in his dreams seemed to be magnified a hundred-fold and it was as if time went on forever, drawing out the agony by what felt like hours. They had been leaving him feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep for the last two weeks, and the bags under his eyes could back him up in that department.
His current teacher Talia had pointed him at, Luiza (“Just Luiza,” she had said in a thick Slavic accent), was less than amused by his sluggish behavior. Her training was grueling and left Jason feeling aches he hadn’t felt since he first started training to be Robin, and coupled with the nightmares, it was safe to say that he felt like death warmed over. But despite the fact that he was finishing the lessons with more bruises than when he first started learning under her, she still kept the same punishing pace. It was only because of sheer stubbornness that Jason didn’t decide to call it quits with Luiza; she was one of the last few teachers on Talia’s long list of assassin tutors, and he’d be damned if he decided to throw in the towel now because of a little tiredness and bruises. He had been through much worse.
Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t bitch about it to himself. Most of his other teachers were wise enough to not drive him to the point of exhaustion, lest they wanted the full wrath of Talia al Ghul to rain down on them like a hellfire and lose their pay. But Luiza did not give a damn about any potential consequences of potentially killing her student. Nor did she seem to have a sense of smell, since her small cabin in the woods consistently had a dozen candles burning simultaneously, adding to Jason’s misery-inducing headache.
But where was he? Oh right, the nightmares.
The most recent one was just as vivid as the other ones had been in the rotating cast of his nocturnal hell. His brain had decided to premiere the good ol’ fashioned coffin nightmare once again as if to not-so-subtly remind him that he was a freak that shouldn’t be alive in the first place.
His limbs had felt like they were filled with lead, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he beat his fists against the satin lining of his casket. The air was thick and stale, making the already increased pressure in his chest multiply to an ungodly degree that had him struggling to take even the slightest of breaths, much less scream for help.
Clumsy fingers wrapped around his belt and ripped the buckle free. Its dull edge was enough to rip the lining and carve into the wood’s finished surface. Eventually, after several minutes of frantic scraping with the help of his fingers, the area was weak enough for him to punch through.
Dirt cascaded down from the small hole, falling into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, along with the blood from his bloody hands. Gritting his teeth (and ignoring the way the ache in his jaw increased tenfold) he continued to dig, shoveling the dirt to where his feet were. Bugs crawled down his arms, their little legs feeling like hundreds of needles digging into his skin as he worked, but he forced himself to continue despite all of the pain that radiated through him.
Out. He had to get Out.
It felt like an eternity before his hands finally breached the surface and he was quick to shove his other arm up and haul himself out. He was so exhausted from what felt like hours of work that he fell over as soon as he was out. But instead of meeting grass like Jason expected, his face met concrete.
Laughter filled the air, and the heavy exhaustion that had weighed Jason down was suddenly erased as soon as his brain processed the sound. Any attempts to move were thwarted as he quickly came to realize that his hands were bound with handcuffs. When he looked down, he saw that he was back in the Robin suit.
A shadow fell over him.
“What hurts more?”
There was only just enough time to look up before the crowbar came swinging down.
“Forehand or backhand?”
Jason opened his mouth-
And screamed as he shot up from his bed.
The heavy feeling in his chest was gone, but the screaming persisted, and it took Jason to realize that it wasn’t him that was doing it but someone else.
Or rather, something because the screeching sound that was making his ears ring hardly resembled anything remotely close to human.
Even with the sliver of moonlight that shone through the window of the bedroom he was staying in, he could tell that the whole place was in disarray. The dresser that sat on the opposite side of the small room was caved in and the door hung awkwardly from one hinge while the contents of his suitcase was spilled out on the floor.
Over the screeching, Jason could make out the noises of a fight. A particularly loud crash was followed by an equally loud and angry screech.
Detangling his legs from the mess of blankets, Jason leapt up from his bed and grabbed the dagger and gun he kept stashed under his pillow and raced out to where the commotion was happening.
Outside, there was only the faint moonlight illuminating the living room/training room that Luiza had stationed for Jason’s lessons. There was hardly any furniture, just a fireplace and a small dining table in a corner in a semi-attempt to appear normal, as well as a training mat in the center of the floor. The scene before him left him at a loss for words.
What could only be described as a monster stood before him, tall enough that its hunched back nearly scraped the ceiling. Even in the dim light of the only window it stood in front of, he could tell that its skin was a hideous mottled color like rotting flesh and bog water, moss covering various parts of its elongated limbs. A curtain of tangled, dark hair riddled with leaves and sticks concealed most of its face, but from his spot in the doorway, Jason could see the glowing orange eyes and maw filled with ebony-colored teeth as it stretched wider than physically possible for a normal person and growled. One of its clawed hands went up and swatted at something in front of it, sending what Jason realized was another person, a man, into the stonework of the fireplace.
There was a loud and painful thud that made Jason wince as the man collided and cracks in the stone spiderwebbed under the body. He groaned as he slid to the floor, blond head shaking as he tried to reorient himself.
“Alright, luv, enough playing,” the man said as he shakily pushed off the fireplace. His tan trench coat flared out in a dramatic fashion as he dusted off the soot and sediment before lifting his hand. “Solaris vincula.”
A glowing sigil emanated from the man’s palm before chains erupted from the spot, wrapping tightly around the monster. It shrieked as its bound form fell to the floor with an almighty crash, the chains seemingly burning into its skin.
The man, however, ignored the sounds that made Jason’s ears ring as he walked closer and pulled out a dagger. “Now, you just be a good hag and sit tight while I go looking for your little anchor and dismantle it, yeah?”
The ‘hag’ growled as it watched the dagger get dragged through the cabin’s wood flooring in a neat circle before its eyes locked onto Jason, who had gone unnoticed by both parties up until then. Its scowl turned into a malicious grin as its eyes bore into Jason’s and suddenly, he was overcome with a blinding headache that made him groan and stumble. The dagger clattered noisily to the floor.
He barely noticed the way the man swore and stopped his work to look where Jason was braced against the doorframe as the images from his nightmares came back to the forefront of his mind. It was overwhelming, the images flashing like strobe lights and not even closing his eyes blocked them from his mind as he crashed to his knees.
Distantly, Jason could hear what sounded like something shattering and shouting before someone was prying his hands away from where they were tugging his hair.
“Don’t have time to explain, just keep this on you and stay here,” a voice broke through the echoing laughter that was playing on repeat in his skull. Something small and smooth was forced into his shaking hands before the presence pulled back and left him alone in the cabin once more.
When the pounding in his skull subsided enough for him to get his bearings, Jason looked down to the object that was forced upon him. A small, smooth stone was in his palm, a perfect hole carved through its middle and leaving an imprint in the meat of his hand after gripping it so tightly.
He shivered as cold air blew in from the open door that swayed from the breeze and a slight dust of snow coated the entrance’s floor. Even from where was hunched over, he could see the telltale signs of footprints crunched down into the snow and out into the deeper parts of the woods.
The man’s warning replayed in Jason’s mind, but he forced himself to his feet and stumbled to where his boots were.
He had to know what was going on. If there was one thing he absolutely hated, it was being out of the loop.
Not even bothering to throw on a jacket, Jason stuffed his sockless feet into his shoes and grabbed the door to stop it from bouncing against the wall. He welcomed the way the freezing air washed away the last bits of exhaustion like a river, watching the way his breath fogged out into white clouds. Shivering in a long-sleeved shirt and sweats, and with the stone in his pocket, Jason stepped out into the snowy night, disregarding any warnings that were going off in his head.
He was going to know what was going on, even if it killed him.
It was laughably easy to track the man through the forest. Really, even someone that didn’t have the extensive training that Jason did could probably follow the trail with minimal difficulty. It was as if a train had plowed through the thicket of trees, several trees felled by something that crashed into them and claw marks scarred the wood of ones that stayed standing. He could even make out what looked like burn marks (most likely magic if the little light show Jason witnessed earlier was any indication) in the area as he followed the trail of destruction.
Eventually, the sounds of fighting became louder as Jason got closer to what looked to be a small clearing. The man from before was losing, stumbling with a bloody hand clamped over one side as the other was raised to keep a glowing shield up to stop the barrage of attacks from the hag.
Neither of them noticed their returning spectator.
Jason cursed and ducked behind the tree.
What was he to do? He didn’t have any weapons on him, stupidly forgetting them in his haste to keep up, and even if he did, he doubted they’d do much to pierce the hide of the monster. Magic seemed to harm it pretty well, but Jason wasn’t a magician. Sure, he knew of magic, but knowing and practicing it were two completely different ballparks. The only closest thing he had to magic was….
Jason looked down at his hands, his fingers a bright red and shaking.
‘This thing has to be evil. Otherwise, I’m screwed.’
Closing his eyes, Jason focused on the feeling of warmth that was small but ever-present in his gut. He recalled the feeling of righteous fury and protection that burned in his soul and channeled that feeling into his hands, envisioning the familiar flaming shape of the All-Blades that acted as an extension of his soul.
The weight in his hands made him open his eyes and he grinned when he saw the familiar copper blades that glowed with the essence of his soul.
Perfect.
He leapt out from his hiding place, not a moment too soon since the shield had gone down as the trench coat man fell with it, his blood staining the snow a brilliant scarlet. His blue eyes widened upon seeing Jason, who raced towards them and drew the sharp swords across his shoulders. His blood bolstered the blades’ power, setting the glowing copper ablaze with flames and he yelled as he brought them down in an arc against the hag’s back.
He was rewarded with an ear-piercing shriek that made him grin a grin that was all teeth as he dodged the clawed hand that was aimed at him in retaliation. The buzzing sensation of adrenaline that only came from a fight made Jason laugh as he swung again and watched the creature’s flesh sizzle and pop from the flames.
Don’t get him wrong, he would always choose his guns over any other weapon in a normal situation, but there was just something about using the All-Blades that just hit differently. Wielding them was almost like a performance to Jason, each swing a calculated part of the unspoken dance that went on between him and his opponent. The flames left glowing images through the air as he worked to weaken the hag, taking off one hand that was aimed at him and then dodging the others.
The absolute devastation he could wrought with swords that were powered by his soul, his very being. It was a piece of knowledge that made the absolute hell of training with the All-Caste absolutely worth it.
All too soon, the fight was drawing to an end. Jason could tell he was teetering that edge of burning down his soul too much if he kept using the swords for any longer and the hag wasn’t in any better condition. Black blood stained the snow as it sporadically lunged at him. Whether the growls were words or just noises of anger, he didn’t know, but when he saw his opening, Jason feinted to the left and then dove forward. His All-Blades pierced the chest of the hag, flaring brightly as they detected the evil spirit and Jason smirked as gold flames spread from where his swords were buried in its chest. The flames consumed the monster leaving not even ash in the snow, and once it was gone, the All-Blades fizzled out, the evil presence no more.
In the clearing of the forest, it was deathly silent, save for Jason’s loud panting as he stared at the spot where the monster had been just moments prior. All that remained as proof of its existence was the black ichor and trail of destruction it had made in its attempt to chase the intruder.
Right, the man.
Black spots were starting to dot Jason’s vision as he turned to where he last saw the man in the snow, and was rewarded with said person gaping at him. In the moonlight, he could make out the artfully messy blonde hair and scruff of beard on his face. He looked vaguely familiar to Jason, like a person he had once seen in his dream, but it was hard to tell with the way the edges of his vision were dimming. His mouth was moving as he stood from the snow, but it was like trying to hear underwater. Come to think of it, all of Jason felt like he was underwater, his body swaying as if he were on a boat until he tipped to his side.
Jason passed out before his body hit the snow, the last thing he saw was the startled look of the newcomer as he raced to try and catch him.
When he came to, it was to the feeling of warmth and smell of smoke. The pounding in his head had returned, feeling like someone had clocked him over the skull with a sledgehammer. He groaned and curled onto his side. He was laying on a cushioned surface, that much he could tell, but where exactly he was at was impossible to tell in his current state.
The floor next to him creaked, and Jason could tell that there was someone next to him based on the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even as he waited for them to do something.
“I know you’re awake, mate.” His voice was familiar enough for Jason to place him as the man from the night before. “No use trying to fake it.”
The accent was Scouse one, with a heavy drawl and gruff, undoubtedly from years of smoking.
Jason kept up his act in the hopes that the man was bluffing.
“I’m not an idiot. Either you open your eyes or I go ahead and dump water on you.”
Scowling, Jason cracked his eyes, sitting up enough to survey his surroundings.
He was back in the cabin but situated in front of the fireplace, which had a roaring fire lighting up the interior of the room. His bed’s mattress had been pulled off and settled in front of the fire and a blanket and pillow had been tucked under him. Even with the heat, he was still shivering and he scooched a bit closer to the fire.
“Nice to see you finally awake.”
Turning his head, Jason saw the man sitting in a chair a foot away from the mattress. His trench coat was draped over the back of the chair, the sleeves of his wrinkled white button-up rolled up to show scarred forearms. The red tie hung loosely around his neck, and a silver flask was held in one hand while a cigarette held the other. His blonde hair looked even more messy, as if he had run a hand through it several times and dark circles ringed his eyes.
To put it simply, he looked like shit.
Jason didn’t say anything, just continued to silently observe the man, who was watching him as well. Neither broke their staring contest for several minutes.
“So, you want to tell me how you did all that soul magic with that nocnitsa back there?” He gestured with the hand that held the cigarette, the smoke curling in the air.
“The fuck is a nocnitsa?” Jason asked. His voice was hoarse and his lips were chapped. He licked them in an attempt to get rid of the feeling.
The man took a drag of his cigarette before letting it out in a slow exhale. “Nocnitsa. Sometimes referred to as a kriksy, plaksy, plachky, plaksivicy, or a night maiden, but you’d probably best understand it as a night hag.” Another drag and exhale. “Slavic nightmare spirit or demon that feeds off the lifeforce of a person by causing nightmares.”
It was a good thing that Jason was already somewhat knowledgeable about magic and the supernatural, otherwise he’d probably be freaking out right then. Which, judging by the expecting look the man was aiming at him, was probably the typical reaction for a normal person.
“You’re not surprised,” the man surmised. “You already know about the world of the supernatural, don’t ya?” He chuckled. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised since you put on that little light show last night.”
“Last night?” Jason looked to the window and saw that it was already pitch black out.
“Yeah, mate. You’ve been out for a full day. Then again, shouldn’t be a surprise since you already looked like death warmed over. How long have you been staying here?”
Jason sat up further. “Two weeks. I was here to…”
He stopped as realization washed over him.
Shit. Where the hell was Luiza? He had completely forgotten about her in the chaos last night, but he knows for a fact she would never let another stranger like the man in front of him into her little cabin.
“Where’s Luiza?” Pushing himself to his feet, Jason stumbled as the blood rushed to his head. A hand went to steady him, but he pushed it away as he moved to the only other room that had been strictly off-limits since he first arrived.
No one was inside when he opened it, the bed perfectly made and the room coated in a thick layer of dust.
“Luiza?”
“She your girlfriend or something?” The way the stranger said it made Jason pause and slowly look towards him. It said in an even, cautious tone, as if he knew something that Jason didn’t and was hedging for information.
“She was my…” Jason looked down, gripping the doorknob as his brain wracked for an acceptable answer. He settled for a vague version of the truth. “Teacher. She was my teacher. She was teaching me how to fight. I just saw her the other day.”
The man let out a hiss of sympathy as he looked away. “Sorry to say this, but your teacher is dead. Has been for a while it seems.”
“What?” Jason swayed again, whether from exhaustion or from the sudden news was hard to say. “That can’t be right.”
But looking at her bedroom, deep down he knew that the man wasn’t lying. The thick layer of dust was impossible to fake.
Whirling onto the newcomer, Jason forced himself to stand as tall as he could and put on an intimidating face. “You better start explaining or you’ll find out just what I’ve learnt in the last two weeks.”
Plus the last few years, but he didn’t need to know that.
But judging from the lackluster reaction, his attempts at intimation was a failure. Instead, the man finished off the cigarette and dropped it, stamping out the embers on the wooden floor.
“Long story short, I’ve been tracking that hag for a bit of time now, all the way from Ukraine. She’d been leaving a trail of bodies for weeks now. Must’ve killed your teacher shortly before you came because I found her body in a shallow grave in the forest. It’s not common knowledge, but sometimes, a nocnitsa, especially a powerful one, can take the form of a normal woman they’ve killed to hide in plain sight.
“They normally have little hovels in the forest that they hibernate in to conserve energy during the day and in between feedings.”
That didn’t make any sense.
“But I’ve seen Luiza during the day. She’s been teaching me for the last two weeks,” Jason countered as he leaned against the wall.
The man sighed and went over to his trench coat that was hanging on the chair, rummaging through the pockets. “Tell me, you been having any nightmares since you came here?”
Jason snorted sardonically. “When haven’t I been having them?”
The man paused and looked at him with an unreadable look for a moment before going back to whatever he was searching for. “Fine, but haven’t you noticed that they were worse than usual?”
When Jason nodded, he continued.
“You were practically a battery for her, so she didn’t need to sleep, just feed. And with the added bonus of a human form from killing your teacher, she could walk around during the day without any issues. And judging from how strong she was, you were practically a high calorie, five course meal for her.”
Finally, he found whatever it was he was looking for and pulled it out and tossed it to Jason. He caught the object, the same stone from last night, with a curious look.
“That’s supposed to protect your mind from the hag digging in. Normally, she can only get in when we’re in our most vulnerable state, being asleep. But with how much she’d been taking from you and how often she was doing it, she was able to do it when you were awake as a power boost. Managed to break free from the chains I spellbinded her with before I could finish the containment circle and look for the body she was using as an anchor. Good thing I arrived though, otherwise you probably would have been dead within the next few days.”
The overload of information was making the room spin, and Jason couldn’t help but slide to the floor and watch as the man pulled out a carton of cigarettes from another pocket.
This was too much. He almost died again, before he could have put his plans into action.
“Now,” he stuck the cancer stick between his teeth and flicked his thumb, a spark igniting on the tip and used it to light the smoke, “I’ve been generous and answered your questions, now it’s time to answer mine. How’d you do that soul fire sword thing,” he wiggled his fingers, “back there?”
“Why the fuck do you care? Who the fuck are you?” Jason snarled. Like hell he’d let this stranger know the secrets of the All-Caste just because he asked.
The man’s smug face was wreathed in smoke as he crossed the small room to stand in front of Jason.
“The name’s John Constantine.” He flicked out a card out of nowhere like a sleight of hand trick and waved it in front of Jason’s face. “And the reason I care is because it’s my job to know all kinds of magic.”
Instantly, whatever warmth in him left as ice chilled his blood.
John Constantine.
Taking the cardstock from the calloused fingers, he turned it over in his hands. One side proudly proclaimed said man’s name, and the other had listed his various titles.
Occult Detective. Demonologist. Supernatural Consultant. Hellblazer. Laughing Magician.
Fuck.
While he had never officially met the man during his Robin days, he knew of John Constantine. Bruce had made him read the dossier on the man when he was still training, which explained why he had vaguely recognized him, but the picture was definitely a few years old since there were heavier frown lines in Constantine’s face that weren't there before.
But mostly, Jason knew of him because of the Bat’s grumbling about the reckless magician on more than one occasion.
A con-man by trade, he had a history of dabbling in the darker sides of magic, making deals with various demons and devils and outsmarting even the strongest of supernatural forces, all while grinning and teasing them like a jackass. But even though he toed the line of morality, he was damn capable and a force to be reckoned with, hence his status as a member of the Justice League’s magic division, known as Justice League Dark.
Bruce had warned him that if he ever ran into a blonde man with a trench coat and smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, he was to get him and stay as far away from the man as humanly possible.
Swallowing, it took all of Jason’s efforts to mask the shock that welled up inside of him and instead, facing the curious expression.
Now here was the issue. How much could he get away with lying? A liar was always the best at picking out lies, and added to the fact the man was a magician, it would be difficult to hide all of the information.
Saying he didn’t know was out of the picture. Any idiot could tell he knew how to fight with them, and Constantine was no idiot. But at the same time he couldn’t just out the All-Caste’s existence. They had been a secret for millennia, and their secrecy was their greatest strength.
“I can’t say,” was the answer he finally settled on.
Constantine looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “Can’t or won’t?”
He glared in response.
Constantine sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, mate. Do you even know how to use those things? You very nearly burned your soul out last night doing all that. Quite frankly, I’m amazed that you’re even up and about right now.”
This time, Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”
Okay, so maybe he had pushed it a little bit with the All-Blades last night. But he was sure he could have gone much longer had it not been for the fact that he was basically being drained of his lifeforce without his knowledge for two weeks straight. In all honesty, the fact he was able to summon them in the first place was a feat worthy of a pat on the back.
(Although, he suspected that if his teachers from the All-Caste were there, he’d be getting a smack upside the head and then put through extensive training for not noticing the supernatural presence sooner. But hey, it’s not his fault he wasn’t as knowledgeable in Slavic mythology! And who the fuck would expect their teacher to be disguised as a terrible nightmare demon?!)
“Sure you do,” he drawled in a sarcastic tone. The end of the cigarette glowed a bright orange, not unlike his All-Blades last night, as he took another drag. “Never mind the fact you didn’t know what a night hag was or even if your fancy little soul swords would make a dent in her. But sure, let’s not trust the judgement of an experienced magician like myself for this matter. You know best apparently.”
Again, Jason glared at him in response. Was it childish? Yes, but there was no way he was going to let his plans get ruined now. If he told him even a crumb of information, someone would find out and then Bruce would find out because Bruce has no concept of boundaries, paranoid bastard, and then everything will fall apart.
They continued their little glaring match for several minutes until finally, Constantine threw his hands in the air.
“Fine, fine. Go ahead and kill yourself by messing with things you’re not familiar with. See if I care.” He stomped back over to where his trench coat was. “Bloody twat…”
Jason watched the man huffily put himself together. He knew full well it was an act and that he’d probably tag Jason to keep an eye on. Batman’s files stated that although Constantine was a right bastard, he did have a shred of caring underneath all the bitter and hard edges and hidden behind a cocky bravado.
He couldn’t help but mourn the fact he was down a teacher. Realistically, Jason knew that he was pretty much on par with Batman by now, both in bulk and skill, but he wanted to be better than him. He could go back to Talia, and although the reason of his teacher being impersonated by a demon sounded far-fetched, she’d probably buy it and send him off to a different one to make up for it.
However, as he watched Constantine finish retying his tie and wave his hands in the air, another idea crept up.
If there was one thing Batman absolutely loathed besides guns and killing, it was magic. Magic was unpredictable and it was harder to fight against rather than toxins and machines that were typical staples of Gotham rogues. Magic often forced Batman to suck up his pride and ask for help from outsiders because he was just a normal man at the end of the day.
Talia didn’t really include any magic teachers in his itinerary of his murder tour, most likely to prevent him from killing the League’s few magical associates.
But John Constantine on the other hand…
Maybe magic would give him the leg up on Batman that he needed.
“Wait.”
Constantine was just about to step through the portal he had conjured up, where to, Jason didn’t know, but he stopped at his words with a curious expression.
“Can you teach me?” Jason forced himself to stand and walk over to the man.
He got a bout of disbelieving laughter in response, one hand covering his stomach and blonde head thrown back as he laughed from deep in his chest.
“Do I look like a bloody teacher to you?” Constantine gasped as he wiped a tear from his eye. “Why in the name of all that is hellish and holy would I ever teach someone like you?”
“Because I know soul magic you don’t,” Jason said. “Maybe we can work out some kind of partnership? You teach me things and I’ll explain what I know.
He’d have to figure out how to toe the line on not revealing the All-Caste, but that was a problem for Later Jason. Right now, he just needed to secure a deal. He needed this to work out.
“You’re gonna have to try harder to convince me than that.” Constantine turned back to the portal, giving a two-fingered salute before stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Nice meeting ya, but I’ve got places to be.”
Shit. This was not how he wanted it to turn out.
“I’ll pay!” Jason blurted out.
That got John to pause again, his interest marginally piqued from his indifferent attitude a second ago. “Pay?”
Jason thought back to the briefcase full of money that was to be used to pay Luiza with, and nodded.
John paused and closed the portal, fully turning back to Jason with his arms crossed. “Say I take you up on your offer. Explain to me why I should teach someone I’ve never met and whose motives I don’t know, the way of magic.”
“Because…”
Because I want to get revenge on my killer, he wanted to say. Because I want to show Bruce just how much he’d regret letting the Joker live and replacing me.
“Because I don’t want to be caught unprepared like that again.”
It was one of the other reasons why he wanted to learn magic, albeit lower on his list. The night hag scared him more than he liked to admit, and it was a miracle that the All-Blades were usable on it. He couldn’t rely on them every time because of the drain on his soul, so learning magic would be another tool in his arsenal.
“You’re right, that soul magic does drain me. If I knew more, I wouldn’t have to rely on them as much. I’m learning how to fight, but I’m in the dark when it comes to magic. I don’t want people to feel like I did last night,” he continued. “So please, Mister Constantine, teach me how to defend myself against them.”
He was laying it on a little thick with that last bit, but it was better to play the part of a novice magician,
John stared at him with an unreadable expression. His eyes seemed to bore into his soul with such an intensity that Jason almost wanted to squirm under it, but he forced himself to meet it head on. This was his last chance. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.
“Never call me ‘Mister’ again, mate. It’s either John or Constantine,” Constantine finally said. He jerked his head towards the room Jason had been in last night. “Go get your things. I’ll be leaving in five.”
There was no way. Jason had to have been dreaming
“So that’s a yes?”
“Tick tock, kid.”
Jason did not do a little cheer, even if the small part of him that was a child wanted to. Instead he grinned and ran to the room, stuffing his meager possessions into his suitcase and grabbed the briefcase of money before racing back out. He just caught the tail end of the chant that was uttered before the portal was reopened.
“You got a name?” John turned back to him, the glow of the portal’s edges casting a light onto his face. “Can’t keep calling you ‘mate’ the entire time.”
Jason tugged on his boots, hopping from one foot to the other as he did so while standing next to him. “Jason.”
“No last name?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
He didn’t have a home or a family to go back to. Bruce was more than willing to replace him so easily, and Willis was a bastard who didn’t deserve to have someone carry on his last name.
Constantine regarded him with another look once more before shaking his head and stepping through the portal.
Jason followed after him.