The Minor Deities of Doomed Men

Part Six

The Kingdom of Empty Cups

Tom Taskil did a count in his head and came up with four felonies. Two counts of violently resisting arrest, two counts of murder and one count of grand theft auto. Five. Five felonies. The murder charges might be avoided. He had no idea who the victims were, but they were carrying guns and he didn't kill them. The crazy Mexican riding next to him did. However, he was driving the car of one of the murder victims, and that might not go so well in court. Andy Sipowicz of NYPD BLUES certainly wouldn't buy any excuses Tom could think of in his defense, and Tom didn't have much faith in them either. He was royally screwed. His future was a tiny cell, probably sharing it with some costumed baddie who was licking the wounds Batman had given him and dying to break in a new set of cutting tools on somebody.

Tom looked over at the Mexican, Felipe Juarez. Felipe grinned back at him, a big cheesy grin, like some bad cartoon of Pancho Villa. Tom let out a low giggling sound and found he couldn't stop. Felipe started laughing out loud. That made Tom even more nervous and he swallowed down a hard ball of bile that has risen in his throat. He glanced at the speedometer. 60 MPH. A little fast, even for Gotham. The last thing he needed was a traffic cop with nothing better to do. Tom took his foot off the gas and pumped the break twice. 45 MPH was a little more respectable, and that was still a bit fast. He had no idea what time it was. Judging by the traffic, sometime between midnight and two AM. He would take the next left, get the heck off the brightly lit and usually well patrolled Stockton Avenue and head towards the waterfront, try to lose himself and the car on the narrow streets. Maybe he would be struck by inspiration, and figure out what to do with the car, the trigger happy Mexican and the rest of his life. And maybe he'd be bitten by a radioactive spider and be given amazing powers. If nothing else, Tom Taskil had become a firm believer in the impossible.

"I feel as if someone just walked over my grave," his mother would have said. Tom had never understood the expression until now. That otherworldly chill from within and without. He let out a sigh at the red light, carefully making sure his left blinker was on. Keep everybody happy. No mistakes here, officer. No killers in this car. Nope. The guy across the street was in his left turn lane, but without the blinker. Tom wondered if he had always been such a worry wart and compulsive rule follower. Tom had never been a risk taker and seldom made decisions until one was thrust upon him. And it mostly worked. He got by, he did okay. No great highs no great lows. And with his life suddenly spiraling out of control a small part of him found it all very exciting. If he wasn't so terrified, he could almost say he was having fun.

The light turned green and both cars moved forward easily into their late night left turns.

Each one was stopped by another motorist who was traveling at a steady speed. Tom noticed that the passenger of the other car looked like a Mexican too. Tom smiled at the other driver, honoring the comradery of late night mindless motoring, and noticed with a shock that the Mexican was Lt Diego Klaus and the driver of the car was Lt. Ryan Osoda, both of the Gotham Police Department. The way Osoda's car suddenly lurched told Tom all he needed to know.

And the chase was on.

***

"You must think I'm stupid," Osoda said bitterly.

"No, man. Look, I'm talking about a deal that's going to make us millions." Klaus shook his head. Leave it to Osoda to find some dark spot in the sun. "Come on. I'm nervous. I'm repeating myself, that's all. In thirty minutes, we'll be on Easy Street, my man!"

Osoda said nothing. Easy Street was several tense minutes dealing with the Sangria Azul

away. Easy Street was a quick, quiet corner to count the money and a swift end to this partnership. Osoda knew what was what. He would have to get the drop on Klaus before Klaus could do the same to him. Then he'd vanish. Leave everything behind. Recreate himself in some new land. Be free.

"Yeah. I'm nervous too," Osoda said. Play it out, be natural. "Let's get a beer and a shot at Casey's. Ease the tension."

"I don't know," Klaus said. "We'll have to make it quick."

"A beer and a shot, fifteen minutes tops."

There was no point in saying anything as Osoda pulled the car into the left turn lane. He stared straight ahead, not saying a word. Klaus couldn't help feeling a little worried about him. Even for Osoda, this was a little weird. Klaus tried not to worry about it. He had a million other things to think about. He patted the canvas bag that held the diamond absently.

"Son of --" Klaus said as they made the left turn. The car opposite of them was being driven by Tom Taskil. Before Klaus could make up his mind what to say to Osoda, the car suddenly stopped.

"It's him! It's him!" Osoda shouted. His eyes were wide, his face was bright red. He fought with the wheel of the car, swinging it back around wildly. "It's him!"

"Forget about it!" Klaus said. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned.

"SEE!? You do think I'm stupid!' Osoda roared back, straightening out the car with a sickening squeal of the tires.

"No, I don't. But you're acting stupid," Klaus said.

"That's the same thing as saying I'm stupid," Osoda hissed.

"The diamond! The diamond!" Klaus shot back. "Don't blow everything on this!"

"The bum first, then the world," Osoda snarled.

Klaus slummed back in his seat. Damn. What else could wrong? And as if in answer, it started to rain little black frogs.

***

"What is that?" Bad Grit said as the little black frogs started to hit the windshield. "They're frogs! Frogs!"

Tinkov didn't seem to care. He kept a couple of car lengths behind the lead car which held the others. "Frogs. Yeah, I guess so." Only in America. What a country!

"It's the witch! Stop the car!" Bad Grit shouted. The appearance of the frogs had to be the work of the witch. Without thinking he clenched both his fist. From his right hand there was delicious jolt of pain. He didn't notice the squirt of blood and pus.

Tinkov laughed. "We stop for nothing. Have you given more thought to your Carnival name?"

"I don't have time for you idiots," Bad Grit hissed. He moved without thinking, without

hesitation.

Tinkov looked over at Bad Grit in surprise. One hand fluttered by his throat as blood gush out, the other dropped from the steering wheel. Tinkov slummed against the door and the car, slowly rapidly, began to drift to the right. Bad Grit grabbed the wheel, reached his leg over and pumped the brake, easing the car to stop inches from a street light. He knocked the car into park and got out, leaving the motor running. His thoughts were on more important things as the vile black frogs pelted his head and leaped mindlessly about on the glistening sidewalk. He felt as if electricity was coursing through his veins. The witch was so very close. She would reveal herself soon and Bad Grit would send her straight to hell.

***

"Cute, aren't they?" Constantine said moving gingerly through the frogs that were pouring from the hole in the roof of the warehouse. He was looking for his cigarettes and having no luck.

"This is all wrong," Jason Blood said. He was looking at his hands. "This isn't supposed to happen. At all."

"Time is of the essence," Mr E said. "She has the power to destroy the world."

"But she won't." Constantine said. "She can't."

"No, but Klarion can." Mr E hissed. "He's been inside me for months, I know his mind."

"Who is this Klarion anyway?" Constantine said, still looking. "He struck me as a conceptual, not fully realized."

"Apt description," Blood remarked. "We - I had a run in with him a couple of years ago.

He's very powerful, but undisciplined, careless. I doubt if he's more than a few hundred years old."

"His creation dates back from just after the Industrial Revolution," Mr E interrupted. "One of the Shifting Sands. His main source of power came from a parasite relay he's symbiotically linked to. He has been forced to absorb this parasite to keep alive."

"So that's what happened to his cat," Blood said. "And it makes sense too. His cat, Teekl,

would be draining powers from me and Klarion would be sending them back, slightly boosted by his own abilities."

"The Shifting Sands..." Constantine, paused, and picked up his smokes. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply. "Who are you working for, E? How did Klarion take possession of you?"

"Wait a second," Blood said. He picked up one of the little black frogs and crushed it in his fingers. "These things are just a thin layer of dirt, some oil, and water. This is all particulate matter from the air. They're not even alive."

"No, they wouldn't be, would they?" Constantine grinned. "I wonder if Klarion realizes that?"

"No, but I do now." Blood said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Blood seemed to shift, then shatter. The Demon stood amongst them again. Without a sound, he leapt next to the pillar of salt that had once been the Hougan. "Yes. He was killed because he believed he could be. And Klarion believed the same."

"I'd like to have Mr E answer my questions," Constantine said, now deliberately walking on the little black frogs. "And then I've got something to tell you."

***

At first, the rain of frogs caught the Batman off guard. It was, to say the least, unexpected.

He quickly discovered their nature. Witchcraft. Batman didn't like magic at all. It went against his logical order of the universe and it was easier for him to think of magic as an unexplained science he lacked the time to study. He had to smile grimly. Whoever had started this rain was dropping the frogs on a sleeping city and scrubbing the air a little cleaner. But magic or science or frogs or mud, Batman had other things on his mind. The Carnival was loose in his city

Gotham had suffered enough. Disease, earthquakes, and a host of vermin that preyed upon the citizens. His citizens. He wasn't about to allow another injury to fall upon them. Not tonight.

Batman's attention was drawn to a single car, parked with it's lights on, inches from the post of streetlight. In a night where frogs were raining, this was weird enough to warrant a closer look. He was getting ready to lower the batplane and run the license plate number when a second car approached rapidly. A man got out from the back of the second car and looked into the parked car. Even in the odd downpour, it took only a few seconds for Batman to recognize the

man as John Wayne "Freak Show" Martin. He put the batplane on auto hover, hit the eject button and swooped down.

"Freak Show" was slammed into the street and stayed there. He had been taken completely by surprise and was knock out cold. A quick glance over at the first car revealed Tinkov leaning lifelessly against the window. Had the Carnival turned against each other?

"Batman! Look out!" a voice shouted. But the warning was unneeded, his well trained reflexes were already kicking the car door shut, knocking the driver's gun into the street. Michael "Thrill Ride" Carroll was holding his wrist and looking at Batman with a mix of hate and fear.

"Batman! Thank God!"

Now he was surprised. Standing by the front of the car was Frank "Magic Act" Allen, with his hands in the air.

"These criminals have kidnaped me!"

What was "Magic Act" playing at? Before the question fully formed in his mind, there was a bright blinding light that came out of Allen. Batman dropped to his knees, blinded., confused. He understood that he had been hit by some sort of plasma stun weapon, obviously strapped to Allen's chest. His sight returned. Both cars were gone. "Magic Act" was well named. The misdirection had caught him off guard. It was not an error he'd repeat twice. Batman had been delayed, but so had the Carnival. He was fairly sure "Freak Show" would still be unconscious and taking both cars was a misdirection easy to see through. And unlike the Carnival, Batman could call in additional forces. Within minutes, the police had the license plate and description of the car that held Tinkov's corpse. He would concentrate on finding the other car. The rain of frogs might actually help slow the criminals down.

***

"Enough with the toads," Klarion said. "You can do more than that."

Victoria looked out from the Gotham Tower Penthouse with vacant eyes. She was light headed and her vision was blurred with an electric edge. She felt stoned, drugged out, and slightly sick to her stomach. The Wish-Come-True felt hot and the heat had spread through her body. She looked over at Klarion. Who was he again? What did he say?

"What?" She squinted her eyes to bring him into better focus. A scrawny guy with a big head and a cold, reptilian smile. Not her type at all. "What did you say?"

He motioned outside the window. "The toads. Stop them."

"You mean the frogs? You don't like frogs? I like frogs." It struck her as sad that he didn't like frogs. She looked at him again. She couldn't imagine what he liked. He looked like a priest, but the collar was wrong and he seemed to be wearing old-fashion breaches like one of those guys from that painting about the pilgrims. The more she thought about it, he did resemble some stern religious judge from old Salem or some other spooky place and time.

He shrugged. "Toads. Frogs. All the same to me." He let out a disappointing sigh. "You could do whatever you wanted. You could swallow the moon if you wanted to. And spit out pure light. You could dance on the grave of God, if you wanted. But...." He trailed off.

"But what?" Victoria snapped. She felt so hot and tired. She was getting annoyed.

"You still don't understand, do you?" Klarion said, gently. "You can do anything you want. Anything. I happen to have a few suggestions. That is if you don't mind." He smiled at her and all doubt melted. She could trust him completely. Him and him alone.

***

The rain of little black frogs came to an end. And as he moved uneasily down the alley, the frogs stopped leaping about and became clumps of slimy mud. Dino Perrino felt his heart beating a rapid tempo in his chest and head. This was too freaking weird. The weight of the drugs and money slung on his back was making his shoulder and arm hurt worse than ever. This was insane. He had no idea where to go, what to do, Hearing a noise, he ducked behind a dumpster and hid as best as possible. It was a man, moving with a slinking haste toward him.

Dino held his breath. The man went past him and Dino dared to look. He almost gasped and gave himself away. He almost blew it, but he held it together. Even in the gloom, with only a weak streetlight illuminating the alley from several yards away, Dino could recognize the hulking shape and menacing gate of Bad Grit.

Jesus! He had thought, assumed, that Bad Grit was dead. But there Bad Grit was, as if looking for him! My God! Mr Rip, Marty, the whole thing made sense now. Bad Grit had switched sides. He had betrayed them. The whole mystery feel into place. Dino felt himself seized with a powerful rage. Keeping his distance, he began to follow his former friend.

***

The car swung wickedly out of control, skidding on the little black frogs that continued to fall out of the sky. Tom couldn't remember if you turned into or away from the direction of the skid. The car went into a spin. He pulled his feet away from the pedals and held onto the wheel with white knuckled hands. Time in the car went into slow motion. Tom looked over at Felipe who was grinning like a child on an amusement park ride. He was clearly unaware of the danger they were in.

Osoda was driving way too fast, but at least he wasn't using the siren, attracting even more attention. Klaus saw the car ahead lose control and his first thought was that Osoda was going to plow into it, no doubt killing them all.

But Osoda slipped over a lane, the tires almost rubbing against the curb and began pumping the brake, slowing the car down rapidly.

The car stopped spinning and came to a rest facing the correct direction, in the correct lane. Incredible. Tom couldn't believe he wasn't dead or hurt or anything. It was getting harder and harder to see out the windshield as the wipers were tearing the frogs in half and smearing a sooty mess on the glass.

Felipe shouted something in Spanish. It was shocked Tom back to his senses. They still had to get out of there. Felipe rolled down his window, a couple of frogs fell inside the car. Almost on top of them was the figure of Ryan Osoda, red faced and puffing towards them.

Felipe pointed his gun and fired. Tom felt a screaming curse escape his mouth as he slammed on the accelerator. The wheels started to spin sickeningly, then caught on the street, lurching the car forward.

Tom couldn't tell if Felipe had killed Osoda or not. He had to get rid of the little trigger happy nutcase - and fast. There was no way both of them could survive much longer. Tom wasn't entirely sure, but he thought people on Death Row had a cell to themselves. He clenched his teeth. Yeah, things were certainly looking up.

***

"The sonvabitch shot me!" Osoda shouted as he staggered back to the car. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him!"

"Damn! You're bleeding!" Klaus said. He had slid over to the driver's seat and was clutching the wheel. The canvas bag was sitting next to him.

"Of course I'm bleeding! I've been shot!" Osoda wobbled to the passenger side of the car. He needed to stanch the bleeding. He was fairly sure none of his vital organs had been hit, but he was leaking badly.

"Oh man! Man!" Klaus couldn't believe this. He needed to be at the drop for the diamond in less than a half hour. And he couldn't be stuck with a wounded, raging animal.

"Hey! Dummy! Your door is locked!" Osoda kicked at the door.

Klaus made no reply as he sped away. Osoda didn't know what to do or what to think.

He clutched his side, swore, and moved as fast as he could in the direction of the receding car.

***

Constantine tossed the cigarette butt on the floor. The frogs weren't leaping so around so much any more. Drying out and starting to crack here and there. "Well?"

"It's not like placing a phone call," Mr E said. "You can't snap your fingers and expect an answer."

" Klarion is more obstacle than threat," the Demon said. "But don't underestimate his power."

"How close do we have to get to be heard?" Constantine said, losing patience with the blind man.

"If your information is correct, line of sight should be close enough." Mr E replied. He turned toward the Demon. "You must shield us."

"Understood," came the reply.

"Well, let's get it on with it then," Constantine said.

"You realize we're too late to save her," Mr E said.

Constantine said nothing and headed for the door.

***

Tinkov had placed his trust in a madman and it cost him his life. Worse yet, it had resulted in the American vigilante Batman to stumble upon them. "Magic Act" had no idea how long the masked one would be immobilized by the plasma field, but he had heard many tales of the Batman's supernatural will. It was time for the third plan. He slowed the car down, more annoyed by the constant patter of the little black frogs than alarmed. It was very hard to see out the windshield and he didn't want a minor accident ruin things further. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. From the glove compartment he took out a small black box. He set the box next to him and inserted a key he fished from his breast pocket. The black box made a little beep and the top opened up revealing a row of buttons and a dial timer. He pushed a button. The bomb in the car being driven by "Thrill Ride" and containing the battered "Freak Show" and Tinkov's corpse was now armed. He pressed another button. The bomb in his car was now armed. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. He set the timer for twenty minutes. That should be just enough time. He paused. The sound of frogs hitting the roof of the car stopped. At least that was over. He shut up the box and replaced it in the glove compartment. It took another minute getting the windshield clean with the wipers and sprayer. He smiled to himself. He would disappear and the Batman would be left with nothing in roughly eighteen minutes.

Suddenly the passenger door jerked open and "Magic Act" was staring down the barrel of a snub nose .38. A heavy set man with a bloody shirt got painfully in the car. "Drive," the bleeding fat man wheezed. "Congratulations. You're now an officer of the law."

***

They were standing on the beach. The harbor was offering only quiet waves and it seemed so very long ago since Victoria had been here last. An identity ago. A lifetime ago. She took off her shoes and the sand felt deliciously cool on her hot feet. The air was refreshing. But she longed for a stronger breeze to cool the fire in her head. The breeze sprang up on command. She turned at looked at Klarion.

"I could swallow the moon, if I wanted," Victoria said. "And spit out pure light. I could dance upon the grave of God!"

"Anything! Anything!" Klarion shouted. The wind was picking up more. Lighting flashed across the sky, and clouds roiled in thunder. Klarion felt drunk, giddy. Energy was pouring into him.

"I wish," Victoria said. "I wish...."

***

Bad Grit waited in the shadows, waited for whoever had started to follow him. These Americans! So loud and clumsy, even in stealth. The footsteps came nearer. Stopped. And carefully approached. The bald man was holding a small flat board in front of him almost more of an offering than a weapon. Bad Grit emerged from the shadows, his knife in full view, he grabbed the board with his injured hand and yanked it easily away from the man and glared at him.

"It is you," Dino hissed. "I knew it was."

Bad Grit smiled and sneered. "Go home, little boy. This does not concern you." He dropped the board. His injured hand felt strangely numb. He gave it a quick glance. There was a white powder all over his hand.

Dino shrugged. "I thought you were holding that hand funny, like you hurt it somehow.

That white stuff is a bunch of junk from your partners, the Crows. Or are you working for the Sangria Azul now?"

"What have you done?" Bad Grit hissed.

"Evened the odds," Dino said.

Bad Grit lunged at him, but his timing was off. Dino avoid him easily. The world was starting to spin. "Witchcraft! Magic!" He lunged and missed again, this time stumbling to his knees.

"The drugs were too hard to carry any longer," Dino said. "But it occurred to me that maybe they could come in handy. I haven't any idea what I gave you, but it was worth a try."

"I'll kill you," Bad Grit slurred. It was hard to keep his balance.

"Like you killed my brother," Dino said.

Bad Grit stumbled and fell. He rolled over on his back. All he needed a little more time to shake the drug then he'd take care of this idiot but good. His breath was coming fast and shallow. Dino stood over him, the knife in his hand. "You look stupid bald," Bad Grit said.

Dino said nothing. He crouched down and lowered the knife. Bad Grit tried to struggle but he couldn't raise either arm very high and didn't put up much of a fight. At his last breath, he suddenly became terrified that his Holy mission was unfulfilled and he died with all his sins.

Dino withdrew the blade, wiped it clean and put it in his coat. He could go home now, his brother avenged. If Uncle Vincent made a fuss, well, maybe Dino would have to kill him too and take over the family business. For the first time ever, Dino Perrino felt sure of himself. And it felt good.

***

"I wish Tom was here," Victoria said.

***

The big bad car was worthless in the muck. Every turn was a fishtail on the frog covered streets. Tom had the car slowed down to twenty miles an hour, making the S-turn onto the drive along the harbor when the other car just appeared out of nowhere in front of him. Even Felipe, the little psychopath, let out a scream of alarm. And then Felipe's scream turned to one of astonishment as Tom suddenly vanished from the car.

It was a fairly low-speed head on collusion, but for all that, Felipe was suddenly slammed into the airbag and felt a wave of panic. "Thrill Ride", in the other car, faired less well. It was an older car without the airbag feature and he was too much of an outlaw to wear a seatbelt. Unbeknownst to him, the impact had also saved his life, cutting the wires to the bomb hidden under the hood. It was a simple radio device, no need for sophistication or backups. "Freak Show," still suffering from the blows he had received from the Batman had been thrown against the dashboard and split open his scalp. Tinkov's body was thrown forward, pinning "Thrill Ride" to the steering wheel. It was doubtful if "Thrill Ride" could have moved in any case. Several ribs were broken along with his collar bone.

The three members of the Carnival were found by the police minutes later. Alerted by Batman, they came prepared for anything. Except, perhaps finding the other car totally empty.

***

Diego Klaus paced nervously by the pier. It would have been a lot better with some backup, even backup as unpredictable as Osoda, but that was besides the point.

At last, a car appeared. It turned the lights off then on then off again. The prearranged single. Klaus couldn't help smiling. He had been paid by the Sangria Azul for years, which is why he was able to set up this meeting. Still, they were an unpredictable bunch and Klaus wasn't sure they were going to show up.

Smiling he approached the car, the passenger door opened. His smiled faded as Ryan Osoda got out, holding a gun on him. Osoda looked terrible. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood. His face was white and puffy with a thick layer of sweat on it. "Bring over the diamond, twinkle-toes."

"Gee, Ryan, " Klaus began.

"Bring it over!"

Klaus walked slowly to the car. Damn! Where was the Sangria Azul? Klaus looked at the driver through the open door. The driver was an understandably nervous looking man that Osoda had handcuffed to the steering wheel. The man said nothing but begged him with his eyes. Klaus handed the canvas bag to Osoda who tossed it into the backseat without looking. "Now walk."

"Ryan, you got to hear me out," Klaus said.

"I said walk!" Osoda ordered.

Klaus did so, keeping his hands up, waiting for the bullet in his back.

"I trusted you," Osoda whined. "I really did."

Klaus said nothing. Even if true, which he doubted, he knew the diamond exchange was going to end in a duel between them. They had been partners for way too long. Klaus was thinking of what to say when he heard the sound of something heavy dropping to the sidewalk.

He spun around. Osoda was face down. He had finally run out of blood.

Klaus smiled again. He laughed as he jumped over Osoda's body and raced back to the car.

"Please!" the handcuffed driver said. "Get me out of these cuffs."

Klaus ignored him and pulled the seat forward so he could reclaim the diamond. So, the Sangria Azul had stood him up. Fine. There could be another call later. It didn't matter as long as he had the diamond. Explaining how Osoda got killed was going to be tricky. He needed to think on that one. It might be easier to ditch the body and claim ignorance.

"Please! You don't understand!" the driver said, in a panic. Maybe he had to pee real bad.

"We all got problems, pal," Klaus said. He picked up the canvas bag and the car exploded into a million pieces.

Batman gritted his teeth as the small fireball lit up the sky. He did a sweeping arc

and landed nearby. If his fears were confirmed, then 'Magic Act' had slipped through his fingers.

Debris was still falling as he approached the burning wreck. A piece of burning paper caught his eye. It was part of a hundred dollar bill. What could that mean? He stepped closer to find out.

***

Traveling at roughly twenty miles an hour and roughly two feet off the ground, Tom slammed into Klarion with a shout. Both men tumbled down the sandy beach like toys caught in a violent wind.

Victoria shrieked. And ran towards the men. Tom was dazed, battered, but not injured.

Klarion's clerical style shirt had been ripped opened revealing what Victoria first took to be a tattoo of a cat. But the tattoo was moving. Klarion groaned softly, holding his head. Tom got to his feet unsteadily, his left leg hurt terribly and his right leg didn't feel much better, but nothing was broken.

He looked at the pretty woman standing in front of him. She was smiling so sweetly it almost broke his heart. "Oh, Tom. Are you okay?"

"I think so." He shut one eye to keep the world from spinning. "Who are you?

"It's me," Victoria said. "Edith. Edith Ash."

"She's mine!" Klarion shouted, standing. The cat tattoo hissed and clawed at them. Klarion moved his hands over the shirt, repairing the damage. The tattoo was hidden, but knowing it was there made Tom feel sick to his stomach.

"I don't..." Tom paused. "Edith?"

"No, it really is me," Victoria said. She dropped the glamor and became Edith Ash again.

"Stop that! Stop that!" Klarion shouted. Before he could act, the air the was split with a bone chilling laughter.

"The time for the Shifting Sands is long past," the Demon said, leaping into view.

"I have the Philosopher Stone this time, Demon," Klarion took a defensive step back.

"I am the one with the power absolute."

"Fool! Half-being! You possess nothing!" The two magical creatures began exchanging mystical blows. Tom and Edith ran from them.

***

Edith started gasping for breath. "I gotta stop. I gotta stop," she wheezed. Tom wasn't sure if they had ran far enough away. The magical battle was almost pretty to look at, but at the same time, it filled him with dread. He looked at Edith. She looked terrible. Her eyes were sunken in, her face gaunt. She was sucking for air as if her lungs were on the verge of collapse. Tom reached to help her and withdrew his hand in shock. She was burning hot.

"Edith. Edith," Tom said.

She looked at him and smiled. "Isn't this great? I can do anything!"

Tom looked at her in deep concern. "This is good? You look terrible. You're burning up with fever." He didn't know what else to say. He felt better keeping his back to the magical duel. Looking past Edith toward the old Stockman pier a fireball suddenly rose in the sky. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" Tom suddenly felt angry. He couldn't find the words.

"You've really screwed things up, Edith. You really have."

"I thought you'd be happy for me, but you're just jealous." Edith said. She stood up straight and glared at him.

***

Under a dark glow of power, Klarion felt himself weakening. Victoria was too far away, and not doing anything. He needed a burst from her to defeat the Demon.

The Demon laughed. "Do you seek your power source? She's not the one, you misguided

dust mote. She's only a Secondary. At best, a puppet catalyst. She is acting on the wish of another."

"Liar!" Klarion shouted.

***

"I could boil the ocean," Edith said. "I could blot out the sun." She looked stronger, younger. "You never did understand anything, Tom. You should be worshiping me."

"Edith. Stop this. Stop!" Tom shouted. Sand was whipping about him. She was glowing in a bright light.

"It's not just for me, Tom. I can do things for you too!" Edith smiled wickedly at him.

She turned back into Victoria Powerstone. "Do you like me like this?" Her hair turned flaming red and her breasts increased in size. "Or like this?" She turned into a swimsuit model. "Or how about this?" She smiled again. "Or how about that little Hispanic woman you goggled at the store that one day? Remember her?" She turned into a small boned, delicate woman with high cheekbones and long black hair.

***

Klarion smiled. He could feel his power returning. "I will enjoying destroying you," he hissed.

The Demon laughed again. "I will not miss you, Witchboy. I have delayed you here long enough. The Mistress of the Stone returns to reclaim all." With that, the Demon vanished.

Klarion smiled uncertainly. What had happened? Then he saw his old host, Mr E and John Constantine sitting not too far away in the sand. A series of patterns of light were between them. Klarion clutched his chest. The tattoo cat stopped absorbing power because it was no longer there. His eyes went wide and he stumbled toward the sitting men.

***

Felipe had left the accident and wandered in a daze on the beach. He felt drawn onward, ever onward. And there on the beach, bathed in light, was Juanita. The woman who had betrayed him. The woman who had ruined him. The woman who must die so that he could live. All around him was chaos and confusion, but for the single vision of Benita. One bullet left. One final chance for redemption. He aimed and fired.

Edith Ash looked right at Felipe and a bolt of energy connected them. Felipe moved foward, screaming. The gun melted in his hand. Tom looked on in horror. Felipe's body twisted oddly and blood boiled out of his mouth. Felipe's smoldering corpse dropped to the sand. His rage burned out at last.

Edith stood her ground. She looked ancient. She smiled weakly at Tom and brushed at the bullet hole in her shirt. As Edith fell, Tom ran to her. He grabbed her hand which felt impossibly cold and hard. Tom let her hand go. It occurred to him that Edith Ash had been killed

the first second she touched the Wish-Come-True. Magic wasn't meant to be used by people like her. By people like him. Magic was for magic users. The rest of the universe had to live without magic and got along okay.

***

Mr E turned his head at the sound of the gunshot. He got up and motioned to Constantine.

Constantine also stood, he turned and grabbed Klarion by the shoulders and forced him to stop.

Klarion looked at Constantine with horror in his eyes. "What have you done? What have you done!"

A painfully thin, but attractive androgyne was sitting on the sand. The pattern of light was gone. Constantine felt his stomach tighten and an icy sweat broke out along his brow. Desire of the Endless looked at Klarion and frowned.

"Oh, Klarion. There you are." Desire said with a voice like oiled glass. "You naught boy, hooking into Eric like that. Time to put you in your box."

"But I have power now! Real power! You can't ignore me anymorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre!" And Klarion faded to nothingness with his dying echo.

"Hmmm. Delicious." Desire said. "I so enjoy eating my young." He/She seemed to notice Constantine for the first time. "Ah, you have been helping my Eric on his quest. How kind of you."

Constantine bowed. "At your service." He felt like running away and hiding but held his ground by sheer force of will. He dared not look Desire in the eye. Only a blind man could.

Mister E approached slowly, reverently. He held up the Philosopher's Stone and handed it to Desire. He/She let out a soft sigh of pleasure that turned Constantine's blood cold. "I'm so happy to have my gem back. I hope it wasn't too much trouble. Thank you, Eric."

Mr E bowed as well. "It has been an honor."

"Of course, my dear. Of course." Desire melted away and Constantine felt his heart beating wildly.

"You scare, me, E. You really bloody frighten me!" Constantine said. He let out his breath and rubbed his arms, trying to feel warm again.

"I'm now seeking the Ruby of Life, for the Lady Delirium," said Mr E. "I would welcome your aid."

Constantine looked at him in utter amazement.

***

The sun was rising and the sky looked clean and fresh. Edith Ash's body was zipped up into a plastic bag and placed inside an ambulance. Tom Taskil watched them remove her feeling totally unattached from what he was seeing, as if this was happening to someone else, someone he never knew or cared about.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?" Constantine asked.

"I'll be okay," Tom said. He shrugged. "I was just thinking about how lucky we all are."

The End
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