"The Charnelle House Rules"

Birds of Prey: Remixed #6 - June, Year 0-A by Thomas Deja

What Has Gone Before: Jared Stevens, the combat magician called The Rook is tracking down a member of The Azure, a demon cult that is fixated on, and gains it power from, murder. The reason for his efforts is simple: The Azure seems to have targeted Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. The reason why eludes him, but his encounters with the Azure have somehow brought together his ex-wife, Holly, with Policewoman Darlene 'Darla the Saint' Santiago. It's also coincided with the attempts of backstreet magus John Constantine (himself spurred on by fellow magician Dr. Occult) to bring Jared together with his 'anima'-the female half of him that will bring him to a higher understanding of his powers-Dinah. This has caused John to browbeat Jared's paranoid conspiracy nut of a best friend, Arnold Burnsteel to act as Dinah's 'Oracle,' manipulating the information to draw Dinah closer to Jared. Meanwhile, Jared has been sidetracked in his attempt to find the Azure by Sheira Hall, who has entrusted him with the raiment of Carter Hall, the original Hawkman...who is on the verge of trouble involving a death god called the Smoky Mirror.

Pity then that the Azure seems to have found Dinah in her apartment-and Jared's old ally Charnelle has found the Azure....

(Everything happens in this series for a reason. Honest.)

Who's Who?

"Do you wish to die tonight?" asked the woman with the pitch-black skin and the Gundam-style armor, complete with big glove and the pike. She rose slowly from her prone position, the weapon gripped firmly in her hand.

Dinah shook her head. She stepped forward, already considering which kata to use on this new intruder. "Oh, no, girlie. I've had enough attacks on me these past few days."

Dinah leapt up as she passed the doorway. Her hands closed around the exercise bar she had installed for quick-and-dirty workouts. Seamlessly, she pulled herself up. As the ebony-skinned woman reached her full height (and her height was impressive), Dinah had already swung out and followed through, knees bent so that her heels hit the back of her head. The intruder fell forward, and Dinah tumbled and landed on her feet like a cat.

To the intruder's credit, she only stumbled a few steps before steadying herself. She swung around, her pike fully extended. Dinah dropped down into a split, lowering her head just enough to miss it connecting. She tumbled forward; her body drawn up into a small ball until she was almost on top of the unwelcome guest and extended her body fully, letting the momentum increase the impact of the tackle.

The ebony-skinned woman fell to the floor. "I can see why Stevens chose you," she snarled and drove her palm into Dinah's chin, snapping her head back. The pike came around, the shaft of it cuffing her ear and knocking her off.

Dinah rolled over onto her back and executed a kippup. The woman was ready for her, smacking Dinah in the ribs with her weapon. The pain was sharp at the point of impact, but spread throughout Dinah's whole side. She allowed the impact to dictate her next move, spinning and using the momentum to drive a heel into the intruder's neck. Dinah twisted until her back was to her enemy, then pivoted on her hip to follow through with a backhanded smash to the side of the woman's head.

Nothing seemed to be phasing her much. With gritted teeth the ebon skinned woman reached out and grabbed a handful of Dinah's hair. For a brief second, she wished for the time when she was wearing a wig, and then she was being dragged down to the ground hard. The woman drove her foot into Dinah's aching thigh and positioned her pike just over her throat.

"Do you always attack those who come into your house?" the woman asked with a toss of her auburn hair.

"If they come through the window," Dinah spat out and brought her legs up, locking the heels behind the pike. She pulled hard, feeling something give in her lower back. The pike was pulled from her attacker's grasp and flung across the room....

Where it prompted a shriek of surprised pain. The ebon-skinned warrior looked up, and Dinah took the advantage. Her arms reached up, firmly grasping plates on her enemy's armor. She lifted herself into a sitting position and pushed hard, sending the amazon with the anime wear sprawling.

Once she got a clearer view, Dinah paused.

After all, there seemed to be a kindly looking elderly woman in a floral print dress pinned to her wall. And the elderly woman's eyes glowed a bright blue.

"BlUe MuRdEr," it hissed. "KiLl YoU bOtH...fOr ThE gLoRy Of ThE kInGdOm."

Small Game for Big Hunters

"What do you mean you lost her?" Constantine asked, alarmed.

Arnold Burnsteel, informed paranoiac who had just unwillingly taken on the identity of 'Oracle,' replied, "I mean I was talking to that Canary chickie, there was a big ol' crash, and that was it."

"Damn it all," Constantine muttered. He drew his fingers through his hair and added, "Damn it and burn it."

"Hey, I don't see what the problem is," Arnold muttered. His fingers danced over the keyboard of his set up. With the aid of the Whisperwell, a portion of his brain was dedicated to hacking into the Seattle Police Department's intraweb. In a few minutes, if Arnold was skillful enough, a dispatcher would send out a call to investigate at the address the Canary had called from.

"You don't, do you?" The magus reached into his trenchcoat pocket for another cigarette. "You should be working hard to keep our bird out of the frying pan."

"What do you think I'm doing?" The keyboard clacked louder as Arnold hit the keys with a renewed vigor. He glanced over at John briefly. "We're in my world now; you have to trust me."

"Trust the toerag who doesn't trust anyone," John said under his breath. He took a first, deep puff of his Silk Cut. "Let me set you on the straight and narrow. We've got a line into a powerful coalition of magicians, you and I. That woman dies, and that coalition is blunted before it can form. This Rookery never leaves its nest."

"Shut up, will you? This is like, you know, brain science. If I don't know what I'm doing at every moment, we could lose her."

John sat back and took another puff. He watched Burnsteel work his keyboard furious, all the while thinking how Occult owed him...
All Done With Mirrors

"I should have packed my work clothes," Carter Hall muttered as he followed the colorless man with Hispanic features and Chinese eyes into the cave.

"I agree with you, wing brother," the man replied, pushing the skirt of his poncho back. His name, Carter had learned some time back, was El Cuevo, and he was linked to Carter by some mythic bond called 'The Rookery.' El Cuevo raised his right hand, fingers crooked as if he was holding a gun. Light flowed forward from underneath his sleeve, and a glowing white six-gun formed in his hand. "A combat mage's effectiveness is increased tremendously by the wearing of his ceremonial garments. Dressed as you are, you are still formidable, but clothed in the raiment of the Hawk Avatar..."

The cave seemed darker than it should be, a uniform black where there should have been shades of gray. The gun in El Cuevo's hand glowed, but the light only extended a few inches, as if the darkness ate away at it. In the distant water dripped slowly...one drop, then a moment of silence, then another drop. "If Solomon Grundy comes out of the darkness to attack us, I'll scream."

"The Smoky Mirror is much worse than some plant elemental, wing brother," El Cuevo muttered. He lowered his pistol. "Look."

Carter's eyes followed to where his companion was pointing. There, at their feet, was a small lizard, or at least what used to be a small lizard. The creature had gone through a transformation into a statue of polished glass, its smooth surface fractured into angles. "Ra help us," Carter swore under his breath.

It was the first time he had evoked the names of his own gods in eons.

El Cuevo raised his pistol. "Ra and whatever else you worship, wing brother," he said in a breathless voice that almost sounded like he was afraid. And, as Carter looked ahead, he understood why...

Where once there was infinite blackness, there were hints of reflections. The reflections were of the two of them, hazy and indistinct. They moved and shifted, accompanied by a sound like ground glass being slid over flesh and stone.

The sound being made by something moving. Moving to attack.
Two's A Crowd
As Dinah learned at a young age, a moment's hesitation was sometimes all it took.

But sometimes she still hesitated.  And hesitating at that moment allowed the old woman with the glowing blue eyes to grasp Anime Babe's pike and pull it out of her stomach. She fell to the floor but scrambled to her feet. It grinned hideously and spat out, "BlUe MuRdEr...ThE kInGdOm WiLl NoT hAvE tHe RoOkErY oPpOsE...."

Dinah thought, A woman that elderly shouldn't be able to do--

But then the ebony-skinned woman in the armor clocked Dinah from her blind spot.  Her head rang like a warning klaxon. She rolled with the momentum of the punch, slid herself into a crouching position on the opposite side of the old woman. The woman twirled and thrust the pike into the space Dinah had just vacated, sweeping the bladed end from side to side. Without thinking, Dinah grasped the spot just behind the blade and launched herself off the ground. She connected with the old woman's wattled neck--first one heel, then the other. There was a brittle-leaves crunch and the woman's head hung off to one side oddly.

"ThE aNiMuS wIlL bE dEnIeD," the old woman hissed and tried to bring its weapon around. Dinah grasped the pole again and added to the momentum of the swing, sending the creature tumbling. The woman let go of the pike, and Dinah brought it close to her body, slipping into a common defensive kata.

She looked Anime Babe in the eye. "You two couldn't have found an abandoned building to play in? My deposit's gone for sure."

The ebony skinned woman wiped her mouth. "It was the Azure who dictated the site of this battleground, fleshling, not I."

Dinah took a step forward, spinning the pike until the blunt edge connected with the ebony-skinned woman's inner thigh. Another twist brought the shaft down on the spot above her elbow her armor didn't protect. Her eyes searched for more spaces where her opponent was unprotected, but by now the ebony skinned woman understood.  Aware of Dinah's strategies, she brought up her forearms, both covered by her snowy armor, to block the blows. "The Azure? That what they call these pests in Anime World?"

Before her sparring partner could respond, the older woman--The Azure, Dinah corrected herself--had hooked her arm around Dinah's neck. She pulled her head back hard, and Dinah gasped for breath. She drove an elbow into the creature's sternum. "YoU wIlL nOt SaVe ThIs OnE, cHaRnElLe...BlUe MuRdEr ShAlL oVeRtAkE bOtH oF yOu."

Dinah struggled to shift inside the creature's grip, but the monstrosity's enhanced strength kept her held fast. She twisted her torso and hooked one hand behind the Azure's waist. With a grunt of effort, she pulled the demon into a hip toss that sent the Azure into the ebony skinned Anime Babe (Charnelle? Was that what that old dead girl called Anime Babe?)

She had a moment to catch her breath. The trick was to extend that moment and push the fight out of the apartment.

Without missing a beat, Dinah let loose with the Canary's cry.
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Station

Holly Stevens sighed. "I just can't get away."

Detective Sargent Darlene Santiago looked at the fashionable brunette quizzically. She had just told the woman, a Senior Publicist at WGBS, about her encounter with a child that possessed supernatural strength, a child who was stopped from tearing her apart by some colorless looking chulo with an ankh over one eye and some funky energy weaponry, and how the Gotham Police didn't want to say anything about the encounter because they didn't want people to think it was a hotbed of weirdness. Darlene had expected the woman to laugh at her; hell, Darlene had lived through it, and she had to admit she would have laughed of somebody told her the exact same thing. She didn't expect the woman to sigh, touch her temples and say that.

"Look, I can deal if you think I'm nuts..."

Holly shook her head. "I don't think you're nuts. This guy with the ankh, did he have a streak of red in his hair?"

"I told you," Darlene said, "he was colorless, all black and white-but yeah he had a streak...right here." She indicated where the discoloration began on her own hairline.

Holly sighed again. "I think that's my ex-husband."

Darlene sat back. "Get out."

"I wish I could," Holly replied honestly.

"Do you think you could get in touch with him? I got some questions..."

"I lost touch with him a while ago..." Holly paused, took a deep breath. "Things changed so much--we separate, he goes away on a job...next thing I know, my father turns out to be this demon called Kingdom and is planning on invading the Earth, and Jared...well, he has to stop that, and..."

She paused again. "I'd rather not talk about this, if that's okay."

Darlene just nodded. As a detective charged with Crime Alley, she knew when to back off of a suspect. There was something deeply troubling about this woman, no matter how nicely she dressed. Taking a moment to choose the right words, Darlene said, "Look, I'm sorry for bringing this up."

"No, it's okay." Holly rubbed her temples. "It's just...I shouldn't be surprised. I've tried walking away from all this before, and all it got me was nearly sacrificed by an agent wanting, I don't know, creative control of Hollywood of something..."

"Forgive me if I'm out of line, Ms. Stevens," Darlene said, "but it sounds to me like your ex-husband is the kind of guy you want to keep in touch with, not lose."

The prompted a slight smile. "I know." Holly reached into her desk and grabbed a Post-It pad. She scribbled a number and slid it across the desk to Darlene. "That's the number of Arnie Burnsteel. He's Jared's best friend. If anyone knows where he is, it's him."

Darlene inspected the number briefly and pocketed it. "Thanks. You want me to keep you in the loop?"

Holly made a face. "God, no. I'm really just trying to live a normal life now, Detective. And, you know, if you want to keep living a normal life as well, I'd lose that number."
Box of Tricks
When Dinah unleashed the high pitched shrieked that was her metahuman gift from birth, the old woman shuddered visibly. Dinah reached out for the piece of furniture nearest her-in this case a curio cabinet filled with china passed down to her from her mother-grimaced and pulled it down on top of her. She looked over to the Anime Babe, wild-eyed. The woman had regained her pike and had lifted it into a defensive position.

"Give me that," she said, rather hoarsely.

Anime Babe laughed derisively. The inside of her mouth was an odd shade of glowing bronze. "Oh, little bird, the Azure doesn't know the mistake it's made."

"Give me the god damn pike!" she screamed with a throat already rubbed raw, knowing in her heart that she was going to pay for it in the coming week. The old woman was lifting the curio cabinet off herself already. Dinah leapt as high in the air as her limited ceiling room would allow and landed hard with both feet on top of the cabinet, pinning the demon anew. The crunch underneath the lacquered wood was horrible-one half china, one half bone.

"You do not take a warrior's weapon, little bird," Anime Babe warned solemnly. "Your mate found that out himself not long past."

"Do I look like I have a mate?" Dinah exclaimed. She was becoming increasingly exasperated by the surrealness of the situation. Underneath her, the cabinet lurched, and she extended her arms to retain her balance. "You wanna toss a few more punches or cut down the demon quotient in this city?"

"I hunt the Azure as the Azure hunt you, little bird," the woman shot back. "I only quarrel with  fledglings like you when their foolishness threatens to destroy themselves."

Dinah dropped to her knees and drove her fist through the back of the cabinet hard. Splinters embedded themselves in her flesh. Her fist hit the rib cage of the old women, caving it in. The bucking of the cabinet temporarily subsided. "Are you going to give me the pike or not?"

A rattle deep inside the Azure's throat pierced the air. It looked up at the ebony skinned warrior with a gaze of pure hate. "...BlUe MuRdEr...YoU dElAy ThE InEvIta-"

Without looking, the warrior upended her pike and drove the blade down the Azure's throat. It shuddered violently and was still. Her pupiless gaze never left Dinah's face.

Dinah sputtered. "I was going to do that."

"Congratulations. Your instincts are valid," Anime Babe stated plainly. "Now take me to Stevens."
Man In The Mirror

The shadows before them shifted and moved, each piece sliding into place accompanied by that same grinding-glass-noise. Carter felt a mixture of confusion and fear: fear because he did not understand what was approaching him, and confusion because he did not understand why he ended up here about to be attacked by this entity El Cuevo dubbed The Smokey Mirror.

Could it actually be some aspect of Death given a divine life by the subconscious consent of an ancient South American civilization? Carter had met Gods before-he owed his relative vitality to the patronage of the Gods of Egypt. But the Gods he met were at least approximations of humanity...what did it say about a civilization that it called into being a God that bore no resemblance to itself whatsoever?

The sentient darkness before them shifted again, and it seemed like it drew closer. Carter could see the reflections hidden within the Smokey Mirror grow more distinct. He could see a dim approximation of himself within its shiny skin...only this Carter Hall wore all the ravages of time he had managed to worm his way out of, and was dying by degrees.

El Cuevo held out his free hand. The tendrils of light seeped out from under his shirt, and a medieval mace formed in his hand.
"Take it, wing brother," El Cuevo told Carter. "I do not know how long I can keep it manifest on this plane, but at least you will not be defenseless."

"How in the devil did you beat this thing?" Carter hissed.

"A deal was made with a more palatable devil, wing brother."
Who Was That Man I Saw You With?

Jonah trained his pistol on the tall Arabic man with the incredibly old eyes. "I don't know why I let you drag me back here, and I sure as Hell don't know why you're gonna make a deal with this dog-licker."

"You are going to let your servant threaten my person, magician?" the Arab said in imperious tones, his voice betraying an accent that sounded he came from many places, but called none of them home. The auburn haired woman at his side tilted her head and stared at Jonah. The bounty hunter shivered involuntarily.

"I ain't his servant," Jonah pointed out.

El Cuevo stood between the two men. "He was with me when I first attempted to deny the Smokey Mirror purchase into this world, Demon. If the Mirror has anything resembling memories, it will fear this man."

The Arab chuckles mirthlessly. "You must forgive the gunfighter, magician. I do not think he has forgiven me for driving him to do what he did in the United States three years prior."

"Don't think I don't remember how you bleed just like everybody else, Ghul," Jonah shot back and spat at the ground. "And I don't see no fancy mudbath to bring you back this time."

"There is one near enough," the girl whispered, "that decay will not have set in."

The Arab looked at the girl with something approaching admonishment. The girl turned her gaze away from Jonah. The Arab then turned to the colorless gunman. "I have brought the mystics I promised you, magician. As we agreed, you will lead the mystics into the heart of the Death Aspect's lair while my daughter, with the gunfighter's advice and aid, will lead my army to decimate the cult that has grown up around it."

"Agreed," El Cuevo muttered with a nod. He drew his guns.

The girl, who could not have been more than sixteen and yet walked like a French courtesan, moved past the Arab and El Cuevo. She put a hand on Jonah's arm and whispered, "Come with me, American."

She brought him to the lip of the large, dry canyon they stood on. The recess was a hundred feet deep and an eighth of a mile long. Every inch of the canyon floor was covered with mercenaries of every shape, nationality and color. Their skins were tanned to a uniform brown by the South American sun, and they were all stripped to the waist. Upon seeing the woman appear, the mercenaries looked up and raised their weapons high. They cheered as one.

The girl pushed her hair back behind her ear. Jonah was very aware of her scent, which was exotic and sensual and made him tingle. "I think they will be adequate fodder for a distraction."

Jonah turned to face his sometime ally and former enemy. "Why you doing this, Ghul?"

The Arab chuckled mirthlessly. "Your friend is the first indication that a Rookery is a'borning, gunfighter," he said. "And when it is complete, I wish it to be as beholden to the Demon's Head as possible."

Only Ra's Al Ghul noticed how the line of El Cuevo's jaw tightened.
Wish You Were Here

"Take you to...you mean Jared?"

The Anime Babe nodded.

Dinah laughed derisively. "I wish I could take you to Jared. I wish I could find him myself." She motioned to the corpse pinned to her living room floor. Shaking her head, she muttered, "I am never getting my security deposit back."

The woman looked her up and down. Her appearance struck Dinah as bizarre, even in the circles she ran in. Now that she wasn't fighting her, the effect was like looking at a walking, talking negative image of a woman. Her eyes narrowed as she met Dinah's gaze one more time. "Stevens needs to know. I tortured one of the first Azure after it attacked me, and it gave up its secrets. It is cutting down Stevens' allies to isolate him for the Kingdom."

"The Kingdom?" Dinah said with a huff. "I'm gathering we're not talking Walt Disney here."

The ebony-skinned girl tilted her head. "Walt Disney?"

"Never mind," Dinah said with a wave of her hand. She looked down at the elderly body stuck to her floor. A bluish liquid was slowly seeping out of the wound from the pike...and into the carpet. She shot her 'guest' a sidelong glance. "You and Jared ever, you know..."

"Mate?"

"Yeah, you could put it that way."

The woman shook her head. In the distance, sirens could be heard. "Stevens once breached the subject with me. He became disinterested once I told him I would have to ingest his flesh after the act was consummated."

"Oooooooo-kay." Dinah clapped her hand together. "Look, ummm...Charnelle, was it? This Kingdom...you think maybe you could take me?"

"We must leave. The Azure know of your dwelling now, and they will be relentless in trying to destroy you."

"Thank you for pointing that out for me...." Dinah said, adding under her breath, "I really liked this place, too."

But then the blonde looked up at her unlikely houseguest. "But if we're leaving, we're going to find The Kingdom. Somebody's reimbursing me for these damages."

A Touch of Brimstone

Arnold pushed himself away from the computer. "There. Seattle cops are on their way, if they haven't arrived already."

"You're a right touch proud of yourself, aren't you?" John asked with a sneer. He was breathing shallowly through his mouth; the stale air in Burnsteel's apartment was getting to him.

"Given the right amount of time, there's no secret I can't uncover," Arnold shot back with just a touch of wounded pride.

"Well right now, fellow-me-lad, it's not secrets I need you to uncover." John tapped his box of silk cuts; nothing came out. "What I need you to do is keep an eye on lil' miss Arse-kicker while I work hard on bringing her and your mate together. That's what 'Oracle' is for."

"So you're making me a babysitter?"

John rose. He crumpled the cigarette pack and tossed it into the nearest pile of fast food detritus. "Not just any babysitter, mate...a babysitter with the potential to witness one of the true mysteries of the universe. I'm going to kip out for some more fags, aight?"

Arnold returned to his screen. He called up the Whisperwell search engine and typed in 'Rookery.' "You're not going to disturb the locks on your way out, right?"

John smiled rakishly, the smile of a gambler with four aces up his sleeve. "Why ever would I wish that on you, Oracle? You're integral to the plan."

"That's what I'm afraid of."
Love All

The Smokey Mirror continued to roil forward, its shiny surface corrupting Carter and El Cuevo's reflection into mockeries of their real self.

The mace of light felt strange in Carter's hand, almost as if it wasn't there. But a slight warmth that radiated from it made it clear that it existed; all that was left to do was see if it had the impact of his favorite weapon.

El Cuevo opened fire on the advancing shapeless mass of the mirror. The bullets flared upon impact and died out, showing no evidence of harming the advancing menace. Carter felt a knot of anxiety form in the pit of his stomach; if bullets made from the same material that the weapon in his hand did so little, what could he do? Yes, he was more vital than he should be at his age, and the instincts of hundreds of warriors through the years still ran through his veins. But this...Carter had never quite faced anything like this.

For some reason, he thought of the Spectre, but the noise of crystal shards grinding together drowned out his memories.

Gritting his teeth, Carter lunged into an interior groove provided by the Smokey Mirror's form and brought the glowing mace down upon its surface. He felt a slight give in its skin, but the surface was undamaged. He stepped back, hands held defensively, ready for his next move...

It looked as if crystals were growing out of the Mirror's surface, their development accelerated to an unimaginable degree. The shards of reflective glass fused and joined, making a tendril spiderwebbed with cracks. The tip wrapped around Carter's wrist.

Carter screamed from the intensity of the pain.
Murdersville

John Constantine walked along Market Street, looking for a store open this late at night that had Silk Cuts.

He was reminded once again how much he disliked this country. Everything, it seemed, was pitched to the lowest common denominator. American cigarettes all tasted the same to John; like peat moss rolled up in bog tissue. Even the one American company that produced what was perceived as Silk Cuts managed to offer up a ghost of the true thing, the taste faint and dull to his lips.

The streets were empty save for the odd passing car. Burnsteel had been living in what could charitably be called the run down section of Boston. John always found it interesting that each city was unique until you went down below the poverty level; then, they were all the same.

A light fog gave the entire tableau a soft-focus look. The glow from the street lamps fragmented into kaleidoscope stars and the drab colors of the broken down buildings were muted. Across the street, a small colony of prostitutes congregated with each other, waiting impatiently for the next car and the opportunity to sell their souls.

"Hey, sugar, wanna date?" one asked.

"No thanks, luv," John called back.

"Oooooh, I love that accent," another one called out, her voice deep and resonant to match her mannish shoulders. "Maybe we can make a deal."

John just shook his head and stepped off the curb. There was a newsstand that appeared open on the far corner; maybe they had heard of Dunhill's. The moment he hit the macadam, he heard a third come-on.

And then he realized it wasn't a come-on. It was a statement of intention.

"BlUe MuRdEr."

John turned to see one of the prostitutes, a redheaded slip of a thing (for that was what it was; it was Azure, and as such no longer barely human) with bad acne and pronounced bruises around its neck, running toward him.

"Bollocks," he muttered and turned to run.

But then it was already upon him.
The Hidden Tiger

Jane watched the Now-Hex finish her photo shoot.  She was quite pretty...which was probably why she was doing what she was doing for a living.  Seeing her pout and pose brought back some faint memories of when she was younger, many identities ago, when she felt more grounded, took joy in her femaleness.  But the weakness of her mind would not allow those memories to stay for long.

In her hand was a token from Hex--the one she recalled was her friend, a man who stood besides her and the three other mystics who made up...what did John call it the other day (year?  month?  It was getting harder and harder for her to think the longer she stayed in this body)...the 'Trenchcoat Brigade?  It was cold and pitted to her touch, but still thrummed with life.

Once everything was over, she saw the grip who was now Boston approach the now-Hex and exchange words with her.  Jane's heart fluttered as he led the now-Hex over.  The Now-Hex glanced sideways at Boston, the blacks of her eyes shining with suspicion.

"Here she is, Joanna," Boston told the Now-Hex.  "This is my friend, Jane.  She knew your dad as a kid.

Now-Hex stared at her.  "She seems really young to be one of dad's school pals."

Jane wanted to explain what she needed to do.  She wanted to tell her about the Rookery and how things were falling apart before the Seven Wing Brothers joined hands and became One, how these seven needed certain warriors and attendants to keep them focused and alive.  But this was not Jane at the height of her power; this was a Jane so enfeebled by the body the Lords of Order and Chaos gave her.  She could barely put together anything more complex than a simple sentence.

So what she did was pull the old, rusted out pistol that belonged to Hex and pushed it into the Now-Hex's hand.  She saw the girl shriek a bit, recoil from her.  But a second after that shriek, Jane saw something...familiar rise up in her eyes.

When she saw the Now-Hex twirl the pistol before tucking it into her coat pocket, she knew her friend was back.

Never, Never Say Die

Carter couldn't stop screaming. The Smokey Mirror's touch was so cold, cold enough that his flesh seemed to burn. He saw spots gathering around the edge of his vision. Carter could barely perceive El Cuevo shooting at the tendril, causing it to writhe a little-but not making it release its grip.

The tip of the tendril around Carter's wrist was growing, the cold spreading up his arm. His thoughts turned to Sheira, and he started apologizing in his head. thup....thup....thup

From out of nowhere, three ankh-shaped darts sped past Carter's ear and embedded themselves in three seemingly random spots in the tendril. There was a loud sound, like a pane of glass shattering, and the tendril broke apart. The spot on Carter's arm crumbled away into shards, and the warmth returned to his limb. Cater could hear El Cuevo shouting over the noise of the advancing Smokey Mirror, "So you could join us, wing brother."

Carter back-pedaled away and turned to face the new arrival. Even though he was as devoid of color as El Cuevo was, he recognized the unshaven newcomer with the ankh over one eye. He was the man who claimed to have replaced Kent Nelson as the Fate avatar, the one that was doing his best to 'court' Dinah...the man Sentinel disliked so much.

The man raised his fist, and four more of the glowing ankhs wove themselves around his finger. With the thumb of his free hand, he indicated a pair of gray wings with straps and a medieval morningstar.

"Your wife told me you forgot your work clothes," Jared Stevens told him.

Next: Jared, El Cuevo and Hawkman combat the Smokey Mirror...only the Trenchcoat Brigade (however many are left after this issue) have other plans for Jared as Dinah and her new ally Charnelle learn that "The Kingdom is The Power"

Story © 2008 Thomas Deja and may not be reproduced without permission.