Chapter Text
Late afternoon sun streamed into an old Brownstone townhouse through its narrow, century old windows. The sun beams bathed the living area in warm luminescent gold and dust moats danced haphazardly through the air under their illumination. Where the light coalesced in a triangle, a tabby cat dozed on its back. The top half of its body dangled precariously over the edge of a buttercream leather couch, forming a furry, stripey, grey elbow macaroni. The cat slept so deeply, heedless of the possible danger of toppling onto the hardwood floor.
Nestled into the corner of the couch was Zari Tarazi - social media influencer, celebrity, socialite and self-made business woman. Stylus in hand, she traced lines and curves across her tablet. They formed the design of her next product. This time, she had apparel in mind and dress sneakers would fit right in with her existing clothing line. It was only wise to ride the wave of success after the worldwide sell out of her newest perfume.
As she drew, a pair of sock clad feet came thudding up the basement stairs. They belonged to a man in search of a heaping bowl of cheese puffs to munch on while he beat his own high score. He loved the rare days like this one when their house wasn’t brimming with his sister’s crew members. Walking by the opened sliding door that connected the living room to the kitchen, he stopped short when he noticed her.
“Um… Don’t you have a date tonight? What are you still doing in your PJs?”
“I’m too busy to go.” Attention glued to her screen, Zari informed her baby brother, albeit a little absently. She had that line prepared for weeks. The whole idea of going to meet some random stranger for the prospect of dating was not in the least bit appealing to her.
Besides, it was only the truth.
Sure, she could have delegated her project to her trusty team who were more than eager to help. Yet, from experience, Zari learnt that if you wanted to get things done, sometimes you had to do it yourself. Be it filming content or merchandise design, she had long made it a point to be involved in everything. There wasn’t any room for mistakes when the stakes were perpetually high. Especially, when you owned an international, multi-platform, multimillion-dollar brand.
“I think this could be a good thing.” Behrad Tarazi flopped onto the vertical length of their ‘L’ shaped couch. The leather squeaked under him as he got comfortable. Flinging his hands up in the air, he further exclaimed, “You need some love in your life!”
“Aww… Does my baby brother care about me?” Reaching over, Zari cupped her brother’s scruffy cheek and pinched him playfully.
Laughing, Behrad batted her hand away. “You’re my sister. Of course, I do.”
“Thank you for your concern, Behrad joon. But I’m happy with the way everything is. I have my career, you, Maman, Baba and my Mithra.” Zari couldn’t resist stroking her sleeping fur baby’s downy belly. Mithra’s steady purr rumbled under her fingers pleasantly. “What more do I need?”
Squinting, Behrad constructed a plausible image of her future. “So… you want to end up a cat lady?”
“Correction. I will be a glamorous cat lady. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Somehow, I think you want more in your life.”
“I mean I wouldn’t hate to have more. To have a real romantic relationship and all that. It’s just…” Zari grew quiet as her veneer started to crack, allowing some of her vulnerability to trickle through. “You were there last time. You saw how well that ended.”
Behrad remembered it well. It was five and a half years ago but he would never forget the shock.
His famous big sister was larger than life. A star under the spotlights. Throughout his childhood, her looming shadow shrouded him. He could never get out from under it. Up on that perch above the masses, she was untouchable by the real world. Behrad always had the perception that his famous sister lived in her own bubble where everything was perfect. That was until one day when that illusion shattered.
Clinging to him so desperately, Zari’s body shook as she sobbed and her nails digging into his back, stung. It scared his teenage self so badly to witness her so broken. Not knowing what else to do, he just held her. Without his rose coloured lenses, he could see for the first time that his sister was no different from everyone else. Nothing hurt more than a broken heart at the hands of people you loved.
From then on, Behrad set off on a journey to find his sister. It took a while for him to chip away the façade around her and even longer for her to realize that it was okay to let someone in. Once she did, it was like they were children again, when they were closer than ever and Zari would read him bed time stories. It was only logical that he went with her to New York. Though it wasn’t difficult to see that moving thousands of miles across the country was her of starting over.
With this fresh start, Zari dedicated all her time to building up a brand for herself. At the beginning, it was a cycle of instant ramen, sleepless nights of brainstorming, filming and editing. It was tough but she persevered. Then, when she got her big break with Palmer Tech, it was like she could breathe again. Her career took flight and her fame soared to new heights alongside it.
To the outside world, Zari had it all. A bright smile was always at the ready for her devoted fans. But when the cameras were off, underneath all that pomp was a lonely girl. She had millions of followers but not many true friends. As her brother, he could only do so much. There were some connections she craved that a sibling could not provide.
“Maybe it’s time. You haven’t been with anyone in so long, sis.”
“I’ve gone on dates.” Zari protested feebly.
Pointing a finger at her, Behrad wagged it in front of her face. “Publicity stunts don’t count.”
“Says who?”
Behrad replied her with a deadpanned look.
Zari sighed, conceding. A dejected smile surfaced on her face. Fiddling with her stylus, she murmured in a small voice, “I’m just not sure if I’m ready for anything real. I don’t even think I want that right now. Not yet.”
Squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, Behrad suggested, “Why don’t you do this for Ray? You know how persistent he can be.”
With a roll of her eyes, Zari giggled. Yes, she did know how Ray got when he set his mind on things. Her business partner slash good friend was a sweetheart but boy, could he nag. She had no qualms that he wanted the best for her. Signing that contract with Palmer Tech changed her life. When she had nothing, Ray was the only person who willingly took a chance on a small influencer. Zari and her brand owed him so much. And yet, Ray always insisted that her working with him was payment enough. He meant well. Though sometimes, his methods were a bit over the top.
Arranging a blind date for her was a fine example of that.
“You can bolt if this person is an asshole. Or you know, you can call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat to set them straight.” Behrad tapped his sister on the arm with his fist. A sign of reassurance that he was there for her.
Zari glared at her brother fondly for several moments. Eventually, she yielded with a quiet, “Fine.”
Getting up from the couch, she headed upstairs to get ready.
Behrad let out a triumphant whoop. Maybe this person, whoever they were, could bring her out from the fortress of solitude she chose to inhabit.
Zari wasn’t expecting too much of anything. She would to go there, put this person down lightly and leave. It was only for the better. Protecting herself was what she did best. Experience taught her that opening up could end in disaster. It was safer to be alone. An independent woman like her didn’t need anyone.
So why did her heart feel so hollow at the thought?
On the other side of town, a man sat by his bar in his vacant pub. Amber liquid flowed out from a bottle of whiskey into a glass. Taking a sip, the man hummed appreciatively. The bitter warmth of the alcohol washed over his tongue with just the right hint of sweetness. Perks of owning a pub meant endless booze at any time of day. A benefit he had taken advantage of to his heart’s content.
Words soon took form on the polished wood in front of him. Each letter emerged with a squeak. His friendly resident ghost, Natasha was making herself known again.
Going somewhere special, darlin’?
The dark red petals of the carnation bloom resting on the bar top fluttered as if caressed by a gentle breeze.
“Nah.” Picking up the flower, the man twirled it between his fingers. “All Nora’s idea, this is. I’m simply being a decent friend.”
Could do you some good, y’know.
“Romance is overrated. I’m meant to walk alone.” Those well-rehearsed words tumbled out of his mouth, dripping with self-depreciation. As did the tiny downward quirk at the corner of his lips.
Love is never a bad thing. You shouldn’t have to be alone forever, Johnny.
While John was mustering up a counter argument, the front door to the pub swung open. Chilly autumn wind blustered in, along with his designated driver of the night and the woman who put him in this whole situation to begin with - Nora Dahrk. His ex-apprentice, now a full-fledged witch in her own right, and the thing closest thing to a younger sister he would ever have.
Yes. She was a witch.
The story of how that came to be had to start with John himself. Printed on the second set of name cards tucked between the folds of his wallet was:
John Constantine, Exorcist, Demonologist and Master of the Dark Arts.
It all began when he was a wee thing. Under the torment of his father, little John longed for nothing more than his mother’s love. His mother was dead and lost to him but not if he learnt how to bring her back. Through books, John taught himself curses, rituals and how to conjure the dead. As his skills grew, he had found many a dead thing. Just never the person he wished to see the most.
Still, he persisted.
Well into his tenth year of practice, John picked up the scent of a particularly malicious demonic presence. Tracking it brought him across the pond to Sumner Asylum. To a girl who was trapped in more ways than one.
That girl was young Nora.
Nora was orphaned after her parents were mysteriously murdered. And as if her life wasn’t bleak enough, she had been converted by the bunch of lunatic cultists who raised her into the vessel for the very demon they worshipped. Poor Nora ended up in a loony bin thanks to her “abnormal” behavior that scared the living daylights out of her foster parents.
By the time John had gotten to her the demon inside had already planted its roots, draining the life from her body at such a rapid rate. There was no choice but to perform an exorcism. It would become one of the toughest battles John had ever fought. Ripping his mind open and reading him like a book was child’s play to Mallus. For a demon that fed on fear, John’s mind was a buffet. The battle stretched on for what felt like an eternity. By some miracle, the demon was ultimately sucked out and thrown back into the pits of hell where he belonged.
The aftermath was a thoroughly trashed ward, an exorcist who was on the brink of collapsing and a peacefully sleeping girl.
For the first time in his life, John was humbled. He was humbled by the resilience of a child who refused to give up her humanity despite the agony. He was humbled by the faith this girl had in him by placing her literal life in his hands, the hands of a stranger. Part of him always questioned if there was any goodness in him. Was there even a speck of it left from all the shit that had been thrown at him since the moment he left his mother’s womb?
Saving Nora suggested that maybe did have some left.
Perhaps, that was why he ended up staying in this city. Darkness dwelled where shadows fell and demons lurked within. New York was a cesspool of dark, scary things, looking to devour the innocent. He had people to save. And when Nora hunted him down some three years later, the two of them became a family, a formidable demon busting family. Poltergeists and ghouls were part of their repertoire too.
“Great! You’re here!” Swiveling around on his bar stool, John exclaimed with the enthusiasm of naught. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Approaching the bar Nora gave John a once over. A frown pulled at her lips. Gesturing at his attire with a wave of her hand, she asked him, “Don’t you ever change?”
John considered what he had on.
Trench coat, check. White shirt, check. Black slacks, check. Customary red tie, check. Shoes? No one paid attention to those. Everything was clean this time too. No questionable stains of any kind in sight.
Looking back up at Nora with a deep furrow between his brows, John questioned, “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“This is a date! It wouldn’t hurt to dress up.” Nora pointed out to him, exasperation ringing clear in her voice.
She’s right. First impressions matter.
“Whose side are you on, you freeloading harlot?” John grumbled.
“Thank you, Tasha!” Nora’s smiled at the space above the bar where she assumed the ghost hovered. Her smile vanished when she regarded John once more. “Nothing wrong in putting in some effort.”
“Not as if I’m gonna see this person after tonight, anyway.” John retorted in a manner that conveyed something close to boredom.
“You don’t know that.” Nora closed her fingers around John’s sleeve and tugged on it. “You think if people get close to you, they’ll get hurt. I get that you’re afraid but don’t give up just yet.”
Gulping down the last mouth of his drink, John winced a little at the burning sensation gliding down his throat. That familiar sensation of guilt manifested and sat heavily on his chest. Not wanting to deal with it, he fell back into the arms of his other old friend, deflection.
“Who even is this person anyway?”
Nora sighed at the sudden change in topic but went along with it. “Promise me you won’t go crazy or anything?” Receiving John’s nod of affirmation, she revealed his date’s identity. “It’s Zari Tarazi.”
With a revelation like that, Nora was anticipating a reaction of astonishment or even a gasp but what she didn’t see coming was the blank look on John’s face. She gaped at him. Even a recluse had to know who Zari Tarazi was!
“Her image is plastered on billboards all over the city alongside pretty much every Palmer Tech product?”
Scrunching up his face, John pretended to think hard on that tidbit. “Hmm… can’t say she rings any bells.”
Trying again, Nora prompted further, “She’s a famous CatChat influencer with fifty-one million followers, does stunning make up tutorials, gives some surprisingly sage advice and has a knack for DIY craft projects?”
“I don’t do social media. Don’t own a phone.” John quipped as if it were the most normal thing in this day and age.
Palm finding her forehead, Nora almost forgot that this man, John Constantine the hermit, was unbelievable. It must have slipped her mind from being married to a genius inventor who specialized in manipulating technology.
Chuckling, John then remarked, “Judging by simple observation, this woman and I couldn’t be more different.”
He didn’t bother concealing his glee.
Growing up with John, Nora could count on one hand the times this man was happy and in love. His happiness was fleeting and usually ended with him alone, drinking himself into a dead stupor. Had his fear really crippled his notion of love that much? To think that her husband had so much confidence in their plan too. She hated to see Ray dejected. But with John like this? Disappointment might be imminent.
Looping the stem of the carnation into the top most button hole in the lapel of his coat, Nora said, “Not to worry.” It wasn’t only solely directed at John but more at herself. “You just need to turn up and we’ll see how things go.”
Maybe John would find his match and things would turn out the way Ray hoped, heck how she hoped too. With a determined nod, she slung her arm around John’s shoulders and steered him towards the door. God, her darling husband’s cheerful optimism must be rubbing off on her, she mused.
John eyed the burly men flanking him on both sides. Their muscular physique, dark shades, crisp suits, ear pieces and possibly side arms concealed on their bodies screamed security detail. Having security escort for a date? Riddle him amused. And he had seen a lot of things in his thirty-eight years of walking this earth.
Just how big a deal was this celebrity?
The tunnel they were traversing in ran under an old boot factory. It must to have been constructed for the singular purpose of discreet movement. Thrusting his hands deep into his coat pockets, John trudged along. His nose wrinkled at the musty basement smell. Their footsteps echoed off the four walls of concrete and red brick, disturbing the steady hum of a generator somewhere that provided this place with power. At the very end of the tunnel, a set of concrete stairs rose to meet a door. Up the stairs and through the door the trio went.
John blinked at the transition from harsh fluorescent to that dim ambient lighting, reminiscent of his pub. Instantly, his senses were hit with the elements of a bustling restaurant. The cacophonous chatter of patrons and the clinking of cutlery on plates meshed oddly well with the bright, sultry notes of smooth jazz playing in the background. Leading him still, the two men turned the corner and brought him up another flight of stairs. Metal ones this time.
Looking over the railing, John surveyed the open space occupying the belly of the building. It appeared to be a busy night for the establishment. Wait staff weaved in between tables, serving their customers. An open bar ran along the side of the room where several bartenders concocted drinks. On a raised platform at the other side of the dining area, a live band worked their magic, teasing their instruments with practiced ease. The synchronicity of the staff on site showed the inner cogs spinning in a well-oiled machine. That was something he could get behind.
Blame it on first-hand knowledge on a daily basis.
Up on the second floor, a row of private function rooms occupied what must have been office spaces back in the day. The security stopped outside one such room. One of them tipped his head at John and pulled open the mahogany double doors. Saying his thanks to the men, John stepped hastily into the room. The doors shut behind him with a click. The noise from downstairs promptly faded away. Strains of smooth jazz barely managed to wheedle its way into the room, like sound traveling sluggishly through water.
And in the middle of the room, sitting at a table for two was the proverbial Miss Tarazi.
Who seemed unaware of his presence. Her focus was entirely on that rectangular device in her hands. It emitted a series of click-clacky noises with each tap of her thumbs. From his place by the door, John took the chance to look at her for the first time.
It was obvious to see that she was a star. She exuded an air of regal elegance, perched on the edge of her seat with her back straight and legs crossed. A pair of oversized sunglasses covered half her face. A little obnoxious for his tastes but celebrities lived for the flare, no doubt. With her features mostly obscured, John’s eyes were easily drawn to the carmine red of her lips. That hue matched the carnation at his breast and the one interwoven into her chocolate locks, in a braid that draped over her right shoulder. The black off-shoulder dress she wore gave him a view of flawless, tanned skin.
She was pretty.
“John Constantine, I presume?”
Her voice startled him out of his appraisal. Business-like was how he would describe it. Zari put down her phone. Motioning at the empty seat opposite her, she invited him to join her. The smile she presented him with scarcely lifted her lips.
Obligingly, John strode over to the table. He didn’t need to see her eyes to sense them scanning him from head to toe and back up again. Let her look. He was starting to feel good about not putting too much of a fuss over his appearance, relieved too that this woman was just as eager as he was to be there.
“You must be Zari Tarazi then.”
“Yes. That’s me.” Plucking the glasses off of her face, she folded the handles meticulously and placed it on top of her phone. “You say my name like you don’t know who I am.”
Up close and unobstructed from his gaze, this woman was beautiful.
Giving her a wry smirk, John told her, “Aye. I’m afraid I’ve never heard of you until today, love.”
Her pair of sculptured brows rose at his comment. John couldn’t pinpoint what her expression was saying. It sat somewhere between stunned and offended. Cocking her head at him, her eyes narrowed. Zari scrutinised him like she was trying to decipher his innermost thoughts.
It wasn’t long for disbelief to get the best of her and she blurted out an incredulous, “How?”
“Yeah. I don’t get out much.”
"Well then. I’m just going to cut to the chase here. " Clearing her throat, Zari confessed, “To be frank, I’m not interested in dating anyone. I apologize that you had to come all this way for nothing.”
The silence that followed was nothing but awkward as her declaration sunk in. John stared at her and she stared back.
Before the silence could get any more unbearable, Zari pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Right. Now, if you would excuse me, I really should be heading out for my next appointment.”
For some reason, seeing this woman on the cusp of fleeing had a jolt of panic bubbling up inside him.
“Whoa. Wait a minute here.” Holding his hands up to her, John tried to stall her departure. “There are two parties involved in this. Don’t I get a say?”
Zari considered him briefly. “Fair enough.” Relenting, she settled back down in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Go ahead.”
“Like you, I’m not all that eager to jump into a relationship either. I also have an inkling that like me, you’re only here because a friend convinced you do this. They probably set this whole event up and roped you into it, right?”
Zari nodded.
“Just think about the effort they put in tonight. If we didn’t at least give this a shot? We’d never live this down.”
The big man would be weepy and Nora would most definitely smack him. John grimaced at that forethought.
“True. Ray would mope for days.”
“Of course, he would. He’s Ray Palmer. His wife, on the other hand...”
“I see we have mutual friends. Why am I not surprised? Nora would totally have your head!” Zari laughed out loud.
John was amazed that he didn’t quite mind someone finding mirth from his plight. Maybe it had something to do with Zari’s smile. Joy looked good on her.
“But what exactly are you suggesting we do? I told you. I’m not keen on dating.”
Speaking softly in conspiring whisper, John alluded Zari to a secret, “Ah… But our friends don’t know that now, do they?”
“Oh...” Quickly catching his drift, Zari proceeded to hypothesize, “If they think we’re together, they would lay off of us. We’d never have to worry about future blind dates either.”
“Precisely. Just need to keep the charade up for a bit. Until whenever it is we decide to,” John made air quotes by his head, “break up.”
“Hmm…” Zari’s lips pursed into a pout.
Propping his chin on the peak of steepled fingers, John let her mull over his proposition, run through the various pros and cons in her head. With her head tilted to one side and her twiddling thumbs, she was rather endearing.
When her decision was made, Zari straightened in her seat and offered him her right hand.
The mischievous twinkle that lit up her dark eyes, sent an inexplicable thrill strumming through him. Smiling, John grasped her hand.
With a firm shake, up then down, a deal was struck.
“Let’s do it.”
“Aye.”