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“Are you sure the spell will be contained?”
Batman swept in, keep eyes scanning every last inch of their combined preparations. The room in question was a sub sub-basement in the darkest corners of the watchtower. Originally, it had been used as some sort of utility room, but with its isolated power supply and sealed doors, it would serve their purposes well enough. Sprawled in the center of the room, a runic circle spread itself out. For their purposes, the handful of items and furniture had been shoved to the outskirts of the room.
Constantine shot him a dirty look. “No. But you’re the bastard who wants to find out what they’re trying to do with that writing, and I’m the one who’s sure it’s a summoning spell. Those runes will lock down anything that’s not a god, and there aren’t too many of those left who could be hailed by a damn summoning spell. Happy?”
Batman grunted.
Constantine shook his head. No. But then, he should be used to this by now. The bat didn’t do happy.
Raising his arms, he summoned his training and felt bands of magic weave into the air with every word. “Alright, boys and girls, let’s see what we’re trying to catch today.” He let the incantation begin, going slowly, carefully, and drawing up as much power as the spell required.
A loud rumble shook the room. The small team of leaguers assembled, taking their places. Wonder Woman turned to the Bat. “This is a calculated risk. But a risk nonetheless.”
“Something has these groups working together on ancient artifacts. No. We see this through.”
A crack split the concrete, but the circle remained untouched.
Constantine strained, words coming out harsher through his lips.
Flash paced the circle nervously, a simple blur Batman caught between flashes of nothing.
Another crack widened, spreading from the enchantment circle like a pressure point upon the earth.
“Bruce…” Superman started. Batman held up a hand. To the side, Constantine’s hands had started to shake. Whatever was spelled to come through, the bat didn’t want one syllable mispronounced. No distractions. They saw this through.
The lights flickered, sputtering as a crack of wind blasted through the room. It nearly knocked the others from their feet, but they held.
A rumble began, pulled as if from deep beneath the earth, as if the very fabric of their world was being split in two, and a small seam of magic rippled in the air above the circle. Constantine’s voice dropped, and the spell shuttered, then continued.
Bruce saw the glint of blood trickling from the magician’s nose. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Abort-“ he started to say. But a last crack split the floor, cracking in a spiderweb of fractures from the center of the circle. A metallic object clanged against the floor and the lights burst, blinding them and throwing them into darkness.
All was silent for a brief second before the generator kicked on beneath their feet and the dull red emergency lights kicked on.
“Batman.” Superman said in a low warning, eyes having adjusted before the Bat.
In the shadows knelt a slim, boyish figure. Hunched over, as if he’d been driven to one knee with the force of the summoning. Beneath a shock of luminous white hair, his face was bowed. Black and grey suit coating gangly limbs, one arm clutching his shoulder as the other hung limply at his side. At his feet, there was a smoking metal collar.
In the silence of the room, the rumbling faded, and you could hear a pin drop were it not for Constantine’s shaky breaths.
Then, the boy—at least, it took the figure of a boy— lifted his head. Staring back at them from the darkness were two eyes of vibrant, luminescent green. It was then that Bruce realized there was a similarly colored substance dripping from its limply hanging arm.
Instinctively, Bruce stepped forward.
The thing’s eyes moved, sliding side to side at the new players in front of him, eyes snapping to the bat like a cat with its hackles raised. It stood, still gripping that shoulder, and tilted his head, glowing eyes shifting in the darkness.
"Thehsueueh jejrieue aehjt?" It asked. (“Who are you?”) The words were an assault, driving deep like spikes in their ears and ringing out with an alarming sense of wrong.
The leaguers clutched their hands over their ears and cringed back, equilibrium ringing. Wonder Woman stiffened, and Flash nearly lost his footing at the harsh language. “Was that an attack?”
Batman held out a hand. The thing in the circle had made no threatening move towards them.
“Bloody hell.” Constantine huffed out, words cutting the air.
“What was that?” He asked the sorcerer, his words short, clipped.
“That," John spat, "was bloody ghost speak.”
“Ghost?” Flash stepped forward, his figure nearly a blur, voice rising with the threat of violence. The thing’s posture stiffened, eyes snapping to this new threat. “It doesn’t look like any ghost I’ve seen-“
“Flash. Do not engage.” Batman commanded. “Constantine. Can you communicate?”
“Sure, let me just cross over to the land of the dead real quick.” He snorted, drops of fear landing on the back of everyone’s necks. “That right there's a bloody ghost. Speaks the language of the dead.”
“Sharif e ksifheidhe?" It snarled. ("Why am I here?") The thing staggered, and the room stiffened, thinking it was an attack.
But Batman steadied them. “Hold. Constantine. Can you understand him or not?" When Constantine didn't answer, Batman demanded, "Can he break the circle?
“Wait-“ Constantine tilted his head, brows furrowed, as if concentrating. “I think… he’s asking us something. Why he’s here.”
Superman raised his brows. “So you can understand him.”
Constantine scratched his head. “What can I say, maybe it’s a new dialect? I'm acting as a supernatural bridge. Trying to, anyway. Maybe the being is trying to communicate with us?”
“So you can understand him. The question is, can he understand us?”
All eyes landed on the being in the circle.
The boy’s form shimmered, trembling with an eerie luminescence, as if a light was struggling to stay on. His eyes glued to the figure draped in black.
Bruce stepped forward. “Can you understand us?”
The being’s form shimmered again. He cringed, holding himself to the side as if he was incapable of standing up straight.
Batman could swear he saw the boy gritting his teeth.
“-fhrhre. I…” ("What is this? I...") Batman could swear the light coming from those toxic green eyes dimmed somewhat. But there was a shift in that piercing sensation that dripped off of the being's words. And he recognized the word as well as the strained, but humanoid, quality of his voice.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” Straightening, Constantine stepped forward. “What do you want?”
The thing blinked at the sorcerer, as if concerned about his mental faculties.
“Sdbrifu… brought… me here?” ("You... brought... me here?") The strength of the boy’s voice was fading. Without warning, the boy seemed to no longer be able to stand. He slipped to his knees with a soft crack that suggested this form existed in a material sense. That it might even have bones.
Dimly, among the next chatter of half-ghost nonsense, Batman could swear he heard, “Hebeid- thank - eifhriebe- you.”
Constantine tilted his head. “This kid’s got a spectral energy like nothing I’ve ever seen. And yet…” he stepped forward, studying the creature in the center of the circle. They all did. “You okay, kid?”
Wonder Woman gave him a severe look. “Kid?”
Constantine shook his head, as if disoriented. “I think…" He rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose like someone staring at a difficult problem for too long. "I’m not sure what I-“
“Is he injured?” Batman asked suddenly. The green in his eyes began to flicker, and he looked back and forth between the leaguers as if they might attack at any moment. As if he were bristling for a fight he knew he couldn’t win.
“I think- yeah, I…” Constantine gripped the sides of his head, shaking as if to clear it.
Batman glanced back at the prisoner. Constantine stumbled, blood leeching from his face. Batman turned. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured ahead. “This thing… reading it is like— being sucked into a vortex of nothing. The psychic death energy it’s radiating— it…” He shook his head hard, coughing. "Might have reached out too far, but..." He caught a breath. “Yes,” he said, looking pale. “He’s injured. Pretty bad by the-“ Constantine swayed; they were losing him fast. Batman gripped his jacket hard. They boy's eyes didn't leave John Constantine, radiating a preternatural stillness and otherworldly green glow as Constantine went down.
“Is this an attack?” Batman asked, eyes darting to the figure in the center of the circle.
John shook his head. “Not— an attack. Side effect-“
Batman pressed. “Can he escape?”
No answer.
He shook him again, starting to see his eyes roll up into the back of his head.
“John." Bruce snapped. "Can he escape the circle?”
Blue eyes cleared momentarily, hand gripping Batman’s shoulder hard, as if he were trying to impress something on him. “No.” And his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
“Get him out of here, Flash.” Batman ordered. A red blur shot by and the British man was safely out of range.
In the center of the circle, that garbled ghost speak now lost all semblance of English or living understanding. The being bristled, more green than before pooling through clutched fingers down his arm. Harsh sounds echoed through the room, hissing static that sparked like a bad wire from his lips. That flickering light nearly gave out, eyes darting back and forth.
Bruce stood up, hands raised. “We don’t have any intention of hurting you. All we want is to talk.”
That hissing static popped from his mouth, eyes and face verging on desperation. Thinned by the edge of pain. If possible, the boy-being- in the circle looked paler.
“Bats-“ Superman warned.
But the thing trembled, hunching over itself as a burst of white light flickered and sputtered out from its midsection. Wrapping its arms tightly around itself, the lights sputtered out, only to flicker as more and more green started to ooze from the wound with his hand no longer putting pressure on it. In fact, Bruce was pretty sure he could see the beginnings of green peeking through the black midsection of his suit, where his arms now wrapped around his waist, his white shock of hair once more hunched over.
“What do you want?” Batman asked.
The thing panted. A faint, distressing pop of static as the lights stuttered back to life in the room, and two rings split over a section of its middle before slamming back together, along with the lights.
“Bats-“ Wonder Woman warned, eyes on the electric show around them, directly tied to the being. “We should be wary-“
“Dhwg- please-“
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on and the sound of the generator died down as it was no longer needed. Under the bright lights, the boys face looked sallow and pale, cheekbones cutting through green-infused, too-pale skin.
Hair hanging limp and bones jutting out too sharply from his form, he looked less frightening. The boy looked up again, meeting Bruce’s gaze with rampant fear and a wary expression on his face. Though now his eyes were a pained and misty blue.
That light sputtered again from his midsection in a bright ring, and the boy seemed to sink. In a human voice, clear as can be, in a whisper he pleaded, “Help me.”
The room stilled.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut. That light sputtered like the lighting above them, flickering over his form with a burst of fizzling light. And from that form, another figure took its place and immediately sank on his hands and knees. This one appeared oddly human, green ooze turning an alarming shade of red from beneath a once-white shirt and white hair was replaced by limply hanging black strands.
The thing’s breath caught in his chest, as if the energy to change forms was too much, and he slumped to the floor, stuttering and still.
The room hesitated. “It is a trick?” Diana whispered.
Bruce approached, but Superman drifted forward, face pinched with concern. “Guys. I hear a heartbeat."
Batman stepped closer, form stiffening at the news. "Thin and thready. But it wasn’t there before and...that’s blood, or near enough anyway." He frowned, voice darkening. "It may be a trick, but this is real.”
Batman humphed and snapped into action. “Call Manhunter. Get him down here to see what kind of physiology we’re dealing with. Bring medical supplies down now.”
Batman stepped forward, carefully approaching the outer edge of the runic circle.
“Batman," Wonder Woman snapped, "What are you doing?”
He took a deep breath, eyes on the seemingly humanoid being before him. “Somebody get Constantine conscious. Now.”
And he stepped into the circle, careful to avoid any of the lines, contaminating the magic, John might say. But it was that or let the ghost kid seemingly die.
---
Manhunter entered the room outside of the circle. Watching.
Constantine stood on the side, watching with folded arms and an unlit cigarette in his mouth. A permanent scowl etched itself onto his face. “Whatever it looks like, that thing’s not human.”
“It appears not.” Manhunter agreed in that thoughtful way if his.
“Stupid Batman, entering the summoning circle. Stupid ghost, for using me to communicate like that.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And stupid me, for agreeing to go along with this in the first place.”
Like a mirage, Zatanna appeared behind him. Or, well, a projection of her did. They thought it was too risky to have two powerful magic users physically in the same room with this thing.
Flash was helping the bat finish off the first aid. First aid that had quickly become triage. Beneath the shirt they’d found multiple reopened healing cuts and wounds, contusions, and scars. They were doing what they could, but hadn’t been able to risk giving the creature a blood transfusion. Manhunter had offered, but the magic users in the room had deemed it too risky. This whole situation was bad enough as it is.
The room stayed quiet as the team worked. A word here, a correction there. Constantine silently cursed the situation, but was glad to have Zatanna here in the form of some magical backup, even if it was just in spirit.
"Whatever you’re doing," Superman interjected, "that heart rate has eased up. Can’t tell you if he’s all right, but I’d wager to guess he’s better.”
Diana was looking after the boy, touching along his ley lines with a serious expression. “The body’s strength has severely diminished. Whatever did this to him has been doing it for some time.”
“You think this is a possession?” Flash asked. "Is that what this is?”
Constantine stepped forward, Zatanna a mirage at his side. “Hard to say. That body might be the tether to the neutral world, but based on its appearance last night, I’d say for the moment at least, they’re intertwined."
“So if we help one…” Flash caught on.
“We probably help the other bugger, too, yeah.”
Superman stiffened. “Guys!”
Batman moved first. “Everyone, hands off!”
The thing’s chest moved, just one breath. Then it heaved so hard it probably opened a few of the newly placed stitches. The thing’s eyes flew open with an electric green glow, snarling with earsplitting pops and static, and assessed the large figures surrounding it in the room as an immediate threat. It threw itself backward with surprising strength and it hissed a sharp warning in ghost speak that had them all clutching their hands over their ears. Without realizing when it happened, the red blood and shirt where gone, replaced in a flickering burst of light with that black and grey jumpsuit. White hair lifted in a nonexistent wind that sent the hairs on the back of their necks bristling like lighting about to strike.
“Are you able to translate, Z?” Constantine grunted.
Her face was perplexed, studying the boy in the circle. “He said, ‘Get your hands off of me.’”
“Yeah, got that one, Z.” Constantine rolled his eyes.
The thing in the circle hissed and spat, green flames sparking from its fingers. “Sifheofh.” It spat out in the harsh language. ("What is this?")
No one answered and in the silence, the sparks flared, and a charged green glow alit his hands.
“Adhgie aehtia. With wi fjwofj?" ("First you summon me here. Then you attack me?") He asked again.
“Are you going to be useful or not? Communicate with him.” He snapped at Zatanna.
Zatanna hadn’t taken her eyes off him. She tilted her head. “No.” But her voice echoed, reverberated until it was more feeling than word. The others felt it even as they heard what she said. The thing’s gaze darted to her, appraising this new enemy who could speak its tongue.
“They did what you asked. They tried to help.”
The thing hissed and spat in its dead language, each word making the room grow colder.
“What’s it saying, Z?” Constantine hissed out of the side of his mouth. "The juice coming off this guy when he was incapacitated an hour ago was off the chart. Do not mess around.”
But Zatanna shook her head. “That’s not why they brought you here.” She insisted.
The thing’s eyes glowed Lazarus green, the temperature dropped enough that even Superman’s breath fogged the air. “What’s it saying?”
Zatanna tilted her head, ignoring Superman's question and asking her own. “What kind of spirit are you?”
It didn’t like that question. Frost crept out from where its feet hovered above the floor, ice flowing in a neat, mocking ring around the lines and runes encasing the summoning circle.
“A precaution only. We had very little idea what manner of being our spell would bring through.”
It laughed this time, low and dark and dangerous. With one hand, it dropped to the cold floor and placed its palm above the ground where the central digit lay. With a blue-green glow of its eyes, the ice burned away the magic of the binding sigil. The lights flickered with the sharp breech of power.
“Shit, shit.” Constantine said under his breath. “That thing just significantly weakened that binding spell. Everybody out, now."
“No, wait.” Zatanna held up a hand, eyes locked on the boy in the circle.
As the others moved, the things' mocking face turned angry and defensive, the air crackling with electricity and the tang of death and ozone hanging sharply in the air.
“Wait.” Zatanna snapped at the others. To the being, she spoke more softly, but still sternly. “They aren’t disobeying.”
His eyes landed on Constantine, and he felt the shiver of death and premonition run up his spine. Shit. “Z. Why do I get the feeling that this thing has laid a hand on one of my contracts?” Even Batman stiffened.
It hissed and spat, clearly threatened and upset.
“Wait, that’s not it." Zatanna insisted. "They can’t understand you.”
The thing snapped at that, and a strange popping sounded in their ears. Flash's speed flickered in red streaks around his body.
Zatanna forcefully shook her head. “No. They’re not dead. They can’t understand ghost speak.”
The plummeting temperature halted, and then warmed a few degrees. The boy’s form stilled, as if processing. Slowly, as if concentrating, the boy’s mouth formed over new words. “Ajbsjfbebf jdJed h. What do you mean.. rekey .. speaking .. dherb- ghost speak?” ("That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean I’ve only been speaking in ghost speak?")
The others turned to her, then back to the creature, whose posture eased slightly, the temperature rising a few degrees but still frosty. He glanced at them and their defensive positions, then back to Zatanna. “adjejd they can’t.. thdhd - understand me?” ("This whole time… they can’t understand me?")
Zatanna nodded. “Last night, Constantine acted as a bridge. Too much went over.”
The thing eased a little more, nodding darkly. “Kghe… no- sfh- shit.” ("Yeah, no shit.")
His gaze landed on Constantine, his mouth more easily forming around the words. Though there was still a heart-stopping effect every time a word left his mouth. “Deje. You. John Constantine. Dcs. I’ve heard your name before.”
John grumbled. “That’s me. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a celebrity.”
Batman stepped forward. “You speak English?”
The being’s ice-cold eyes stayed frosty, but the tension in the room and the lingering crackling feel of death began to dissipate.
“Of course I do. Afbte. I’m American. Ghost speak’s just a nasty side effect of being dead.”
Constantine blinked, folding his arms, shooting Bruce a significant glance. “American, huh?”
“We intercepted a ritual by a group wanting to bring you to the world of the living. We don’t know what for, or to what end. We were hoping you do.”
Like a switch had flipped, the thing’s eyes grew cold, and a bitter, vengeful chill buffeted the room. His voice grew low and thready, popping with static, though his words stayed comprehensible. “I was already on the plane of the living. If you could call it that,” he spat.
“What are you?” Superman asked. Bruce shot him an irritated look but turned to see the boy’s response.
He snorted, dark humor rising to the surface. “Offended, mostly. I’m a who, not a what.”
“Do you have a name?” Bruce tried instead.
Cold eyes landed on him. “Phantom.”
Everyone’s bones went cold and chafed in their skin. The word echoed with a death knell and power that bespoke ice and a dark, bitter rage.
Something flickered, green and violent, above the figure’s head. So faint, there and gone so fast it was impossible to make out.
Constantine sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit. Phantom.” He breathed, then spoke louder. “The same Phantom that defeated Pariah Dark?”
Pariah Dark, who he’d unwittingly sold a piece of his soul to, who had ruled the nastiest, most death-stricken realm between reality that John had ever dreamt of. And this guy? If he was right, this guy beat the ever-loving snot out of him. Locked him away in a cage so dark he hadn’t been heard from since.
If possible, Phantom’s eyes grew colder. “How do you know Pariah Dark?” Hackles raised again, his eyes darted between the league suspiciously. “Ssjs." Static snapped and hissed on the air. "What is this?”
“We don’t.” Batman stepped forward, reengaging the target. “Who’s Pariah Dark?”
Phantom eyed them suspiciously, gaze flicking between them and returning to rest accusatorially to John Constantine. “Ask John.”
That name. Oh shit. This was him. This guy did hold his contract. John coughed and rubbed his chest at the sudden tug of authority.
Batman stepped up again. “I’m asking you.”
The thing studied John, returned to Zatanna, and shook his head. “Some considered him to be a king. Wasn’t much of a ruler.”
“What kind of king?” Batman asked.
Phantom’s jaw locked, then he shoved air through his jaw and met Batman’s gaze, smiling without humor through teeth that were slightly too sharp to be human.
“King of the ghosts. Ruler of the undying lands. The Infinite Realms and all the pretty, petty spirits in it.”
John sputtered, nearly choking as he realized who they had in front of him. “Bats.”
Bats ignored him. “Was Pariah Dark the one who caused the damage to you?”
The ghost hissed, form sputtering an the question. Dark shadows deepened in his eyes. “Not this time. This time, it was you.“
Oh shit, oh shit. Zatanna, at his side, was trying to speak, but her connection couldn’t get through John’s rising fear. She was little more than a shade. “Bats. Get out of the circle.”
He didn’t move. Phantom marked the notion. Turned his gaze on John. “What, are you scared?”
“Bats,” John insisted. “Get out of the circle. That’s the bloody king of the Infinite Realms.”
Wisely, Batman stepped outside the ring, eyes never leaving the thing inside it. “I thought Pariah Dark was king of the Infinite Realms.”
“He was.” Phantom turned his cold gaze to John. “Do you want to explain, or should I?”
“The ghost zone is passed down though trials by combat. Phantom fought Pariah, and won.”
Hissing in what might have been a laugh, Phantom sneered at John. “Well? Are you going to bow to your king?”
“All due respect, your majesty." John flicked a lighter. “I’d rather send you back to hell.”
Wonder Woman looked back at John in disbelief, and flinched at the croaking laugh that filtered through the room. “Good. The bowing gets old, anyway.” Straightening, and seeming more human and like a deteriorating teenage boy by the second, he faced the bat. “What does the Justice League want with the ipso facto king of the dead anyway?”
“All we’re looking for are some answers.”
“Yeah," Constantine interrupted. “Like who put you through the meat grinder.”
Phantom flinched, hard enough they all saw it. His voice cut low and dangerous. “I’m assuming you’re not with them." His form shifted, ever so slightly like a bad picture. "They know better than to use magic to try and hold me. But I have to ask, why?” He lifted his head, looking for the moment like a tortured boy. “How did you know to come save me?”
Flash stepped forward. “Hold up, is this the king of the dead we’re speaking to, or the possessed boy holding onto his body?”
Superman and Wonder Woman folded their arms. Through Constantine’s aura, Zatanna once more tried to speak.
But the ghost king shot her spectral form a desperate look. And she stuttered into silence.
He kicked his shoe, like something a teenager would do. “It’s… complicated.”
“Let him go. We have to ask that you let us save him.”
The king shot a hard look through the boy’s frightened eyes. “There’s no saving him from this. There’s no way to separate the two.” He shot a look at John and sighed, explaining, “Think of it like a spell gone wrong, if you like. Both halves need each other.”
“There’s no way to free him?” Diana asked, voice heartbroken and disbelieving.
He sighed, looking once more like a teenage kid, blowing hair from his forehead, snow-white hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Believe me, you’ve already done everything you can. The help is … appreciated.”
“If the spell won’t hold you, what were the organizations hoping to do with you?” Batman asked. They'd gone to all this effort, and with his head still spinning, he went after answers.
The ghost king puffed another hair from his face, looking tired. “Not sure. They might have been trying to control me,” his eyes flashed dangerously green for a second. “Or maybe they thought they’d get Pariah. Who knows?” He scuffed his shoe. “But you don't need to worry about it."
"Oh?" John asked. "And why the hell not?"
At the same time, Bruce calmly asked, "Why not?"
With a resigned sigh, Phantom stepped backwards, right over the runes without more than a full body shudder. The leaguers stepped back, ready for a fight that never came. In the shadows of the light, the boy's cheeks looked hollow. “Because their warding can’t hold me. Even if they find something that can—," his eyes flashed a vibrant, scattered white. Constantine grunted and nearly went down at the emotions shooting off him like a hurricane of air. There and gone so fast he didn’t even have time to catch his breath. “I won’t break.”
Superman stepped up, meeting the kid’s eye. "Like it or not, kid. You almost broke today.”
He sighed. Nodded once. “The summoning spell broke the collar they used to contain me. I wasn’t expecting that to happen. I wasn’t able to heal the… damage on my own. For that, I have to be eternally grateful. But attempt to summon me again, and gratitude isn’t what you’ll receive." A sharp tang simmered on the air: the taste of power, loosely leashed. He turned to go, fading into the darkness, flickering as he turned back. Batman thought he saw a familiar weariness and the faint tint of green below the suit. "And John, stay out of the other side. Your magician friend as well. It's not safe in the zone while I'm not there."
Batman had one final word, one final thing to say. “We helped once. We could be on the same side again."
With a faint grin, tired and bruised, he joked. “Teaming up with the Justice League. Man, dying gets you everywhere these days.”
And he dropped into the shadows.