Chapter Nineteen

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Within the dark confines of the living House, an abode breathing pure magic in to the deepest darkest pits of existence, Klarion, Lord of Chaos, passed around mugs of hot chocolate.

Zatanna inhaled the warm scent of coco, "Mmmh that's lovely."

Shaking his head, John Constantine buried his hands in his pockets, "Nah, can't beat a cuppa if you ask me."

Lady Shiva  accepted a mug, perched within the group and constantly glancing between them. This was not a crowd she'd thought to find herself among; and yet, here she was. The assassin stared dubiously at the drink. If the 'cuppa' that the Englishman had mentioned meant 'tea', then she was inclined to agree with him.

Engulfed in the black magic of the WitchBoy, a cup floated in front of the Scouser's nose.

"So you don't want one then?" He nudged. "Come on... it's infused with elvish vanillaaa..." he dragged out the last word until the man caved in.

Constantine plucked it out of the air begrudgingly. He sipped with ill-disguised delight.

Now that they were all equipped with gently steaming mugs (courtesy of Klarion's recently acquired dedication to the art of hot-chocolate making, supported by YouTube tutorials), the discussion could begin. Raven was the instigator of this meeting.

"As you know, we" she gestured to herself and Damian, "are working on the poisonings case for uncle Lucifer."

"Bloody snake." Constantine mumbled.

Damian nodded to the blond, "Yes quite."

Raven rolled her eyes and continued, "We've gotten as far as our knowledge can take us. But a little experience would be appreciated for two matters."

With a pointed look, Raven indicated to Klarion and Damian that they were going first. The WitchBoy glanced at Damian; he didn't fancy speaking. Klarion might have been a creature of Chaos, but that didn't mean that he neglected other dark spirits (particularly the sin of sloth). Sighing, Damian set his mug down on a conveniently placed coffee table (he could have sworn it hadn't been there before...).

"Klarion and I identified the poison on the victims-"

"So it was the same for all of them?" Zatanna interjected.

She ducked her head apologetically at a glare from Damian, clamping down on her lips and pretending to zip them shut. The magician threw away the imaginary key, indicating to Damian to continue.

"Several bodies were analysed to corroborate, and the symptoms were a confirmed match with all living victims." He said. "So yes, multiple attacks of the same poisoning agent. It is the specific poison that is troubling-"

"Especially for creatures like yours truly." Klarion noted, hand laid on chest.

"Oh?" Constantine raised an eyebrow.

'Creatures like Klarion' no doubt meant the darker kind of magical being, perhaps demonkind, or ancient spirits, because anything to be lumped in to the same category as Klarion was serious business. Constantine gripped his mug tightly in rapture- he'd been getting quite bored of late and welcomed a distraction.

Damian said, "As simply put as possible, it's ultra holy-water."

There was a collective hiss in the room. Even Orchid, the inexpressive, still embodiment of the House seemed to recoil. All but Shiva appeared shaken.

"You don't mean..." Zatanna dared not finish.

"Angel venom." Raven said, shuddering.

For all her connections to the Demon Head, Lady Shiva's world had formerly been estranged to such ideas of magic. Ra's Al Ghul's dealings had been considerably less biblical than what the magical beings in the room spoke of. Shiva watched Damian, the heir to the demon -a significantly different kind of demon than the tempter that wound himself around the forbidden tree of Eden-  and remarked his ease in present company. He looked so much like his father, she thought, but Talia's flame still burned behind his eyes. Perhaps he found comfort in the air charged with magic; it hummed within the walls of the House of Mystery. Shiva had opened a door only a few minutes prior, in search of a kitchen, and had fallen upon a void of devouring blackness (she had never closed a door so quickly in her life). There was something, all the same, in the words 'angel venom' that chilled her blood. That was not good news to the assassin- Shiva was a master of her sentiments. This fear was innate.

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