Title: Magic Bound
Summary: Jen Constantine, with the power of her father and her mother, is a force to be reckoned with. Yet, she stays true to her roots with traditional remedies that, personally, no one at SPR really appreciates nor respects. Until a darker force, stronger than anything they thought was possible, sweeps its way throughout the country and Jen is forced to reveal her true power.
Genre: Fantasy/Friendship/Mild Horror
Rating: T for mild violence, mentions of violent crimes/violence, ghosts, and paranormal activity
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim Ghost Hunt. I do not own nor claim DC Universe.

A/N: Minor crossover with DC Universe with Jen being an OC whose the daughter of John Constantine and Zatana. The spirit 'attached' to her is really just her best friend, Deadman aka Boston while her uncle is none other than Jason Blood. This follows mostly into the Justice League Dark storyline.

PROLOGUE

There are things in this world that can't be explained, things that paranormal investigators look into and explore to protect families, people, victims. But what they don't realize is that they're only barely scraping the surface of this other world. They see it through a thin sheet of glass, too scared to look beyond it - too scared to shatter it and take a step into the unknown.

Evil, darkness, madness…. Magic…. It all ties within the paranormal world, stringing through it like a sewing needle with a blood-stained thread, like a warning that no one wants to acknowledge. Its thread spreads its roots into the ground of the land and works its way into people's souls, tempting them by disguising darkness as light, hate as love. Necromancers are born through that thread; voodoo, dark ritual magic, it all stems from it and breeds more darkness.

The darkness is spreading too fast, crawling its way into magic users across the world - across the dimensions - creating problems on world-ending proportions. It's effecting things on a more domestic level too - a level that a group of heroes in tights can't fix.

She's seen the headlines. A man murdered his family in Amity, Ohio, using an ax to kill them in their sleep. A farmer in Nebraska killed ten teen girls before he was discovered. Several serial killers making their way through Europe. More in Australia. Drug and turf wars spreading through South America. It's subtle, but it's there in the really violent acts. People who claim to have no memory of what they've done, some saying the devil made them do it.

That violence seeps into the soil and breeds a level of violence that attracts things on a more paranormal level - things that don't belong here in this realm. Things that normal paranormal investigators aren't ready for.

She doubts that she's ready for it, but she's going to try her damn best. Her father is doing God-knows-what, probably pissing off the wrong types of people and creatures, but hopefully helping with some world threat or another. The more she thinks about it, the more she believes that he's just passed out in some bar on the other side of the galaxy. Uncle Jason won't be any help, but at least with him, she knows that he's tracking down some world threat or dark force. Likely has his hands full doing it too. She's on her own.

A loud crash comes from behind her, causing her to jump and turn swiftly to see a familiar spirit looking at her sheepishly, a broken vase shattered on the floor. Almost on my own anyway.

"This is the last time I ask a spirit to help me move," she groans, rubbing her temples, "I told you not to touch anything breakable. That vase could've had some trapped spirit or force inside of it. Breaking it could have released some awful evil upon the world that cannot be banished, only contained."

Boston blinks blankly and looks down at the vase, kicking it with his foot - which doesn't do much, being a spirit, his foot goes through its remains.

"Did it?"

"No I got it on sale at Target, but my point remains."

With a wave of her hand, a purple magic-infused wind surrounds the remains and repairs it before setting it on its rightful shelf. Boston watches the repairing vase with a tired expression, floating a few inches off the ground as he crosses his legs.

"If you can do that, Jennykins, I don't see why you need any help -" He catches her expression and crinkles his nose, "Yeah, yeah, I know, you like to use the traditional way of things, but come on, a little magic ain't ever hurt nobody. You already use it to fix everything you break."

She crosses her arms against her chest, "One, don't call me Jennykins. It's Jen. Just Jen. Two, everything you break and that's what magic does. It's supposed to fix things, not make you too lazy to do anything yourself. Besides, magical cancer ring any bells? Too much of anything is bad for you - magic included."

He snorts, "Maybe you should tell ya father that."

"Yeah," she raises a brow, "And how do you suppose I do that? Through the cell he never answers, the emails he never reads, or a summoning he banishes before it can even work?"

Boston scratches at his head with an expression on his face that tells her that he knows that she's right. She nods triumphantly and turns her back to him to continue rearranging furniture. A new office isn't easy work between the furniture, the jewels, gemstones, warding, and plants. It's a lot of damn work. The good news is that at least she's almost done. Two more boxes of artifacts sit against the wall, a few paintings and artwork lay beside them. Freshly potted plants aline the window sill and there's multiple plants hanging from the ceiling. Incenses and essential oils burn in a container on a shelf, filling the room with peaceful aromas.

"You didn't have to follow me to Japan, you know." She opens the last two remaining boxes, "It's not as if you're bound to me or anything. You have free will and a hunger for justice to fill."

"And leave you to be in a foreign country? By yourself? No way, no how, sweetcheeks."

Boston lingers behind her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end, "Besides you tend to find all of the tormented souls anyway. You take care of helping them move on and I get to bring their killers to justice. It's a win-win."

Jen rolls her eyes, but doesn't deny his logic as she beings setting different artifacts on a bookshelf. She already burned the entire area with sage, cleansing absolutely everything so the artifacts' energy won't be affected by any lingering negativity within the shelves' wood or the air. Pink himalayan salt sits in a shell on the table in the center of the room to soak up any negativity that may enter. The wards that have been set make her feet tingle, knowing that they are working properly. Salt lines the windows, hidden by potted plants. There's a small break in a salt line at the door so Boston can go and leave as he pleases, but he knows that when the office is locked, the line will be filled in.

She may not always know what she's doing, but she's not stupid enough to let Boston have free-range of any artifacts in the office.

"I'm still surprised Blood let you have this."

Boston admires a large red stone, his hand reaching out to touch it, eyes wide as saucers. She slaps his hand away. He looks at her with a stunned, hurt expression, holding his hand to his chest as it sizzles. She gives him her best no duh expression as she lifts her right hand at him, particularly the middle finger - a double ring shines brilliantly, reflecting off sunlight that comes in through the opened window. He recoils at the sight.

"I'm offended you think you need that for me. I'm wounded, Jen, wounded."

Her grin turns devilish, "The Clairsentient, the only ring made by some god or another who got tired of Hades' shit and decided that they should be able to touch spirits too. Little did they know, it would prove to be one of the most effective method on scolding annoying pests."

"But it burns," Boston whines, but he won't be gaining any sympathy.

"Visit Hell, then you can complain about burning." He grumbles toucheat her comment as she sighs, "In the meantime, your help is much appreciated in shelving these volumes of Muse. And Boston -"

She gives him a pointed look, waving toward the direction of the red rock that oozes atrocious energy, "Don't touch it. Blood needs me to watch over it for a while and I promised I would protect it."

It takes three minutes of working on shelving the books before he finally stops grumbling under his breath - he gives up trying to possess her to change her mind, but a quick kick to the shin got him to stop. She's worked with her father for years, but Boston is the real reason she's thankful for the Clairsentient. She glances around the magical artifacts in the room - the red rocks that she's guarding for her Uncle, the shield with ancient ruins that hang on the wall, the haunted doll on a table contained by an enchanted glass dome, various magical gems and stones. The list is essentially endless, especially combined with the extensive book collection of various magics - ancient, modern, and warding. She thinks that she got it all covered and a few hours later, she can't help but feel a sense of pride of what's been accomplished.

Everything looks beautiful and the room feels light and warm. The plants add a touch of life that balances everything out. The desk, filing cabinets, bookcases, shelves, are all a reminder that it's an office.

Her office. That's a lot to take in - going into this, she debated long and hard about what the name of her new agency should be called. She can't exactly use her last name, it would just be a big bright neon sign to everything magical in the entire country that hey I'm right here. Not exactly helpful when her goal is to help all the people suffering from the magical, mystical, and paranormal.

Boston has tried to give several name suggestions, but all were turned down when a majority were more suited for a more adult workplace. It took a long time for her to settle on Lifetower. She may or may not have heard of the Watchtower from her father and decided to stick to the theme.

"Jennygirl, it's past your bedtime," Boston chimes and she turns to see him pointing toward the clock, "We should probably head out. It's getting pretty late."

She resists the urge to correct him on the fact that since she is an adult, and on her own, she doesn't have a bedtime, but a yawn overpowers it. He is right, it is late. She nods sleepily and follows him out of the room, barely remembering to grab a container of salt to bind the line after she left. She turns off the lights, makes it through the doorway, about to finish the salt line, when her eyes look through the dark office at the red rocks that stand out against the shadows.

Her gut turns and her eyebrows furrow with concern at the sudden sense of dread that fills her. She steps back into the office to flip on the light. With the light on, the red rocks seem to disappear into the background, but her eyes never leave them. She sets down the salt container and stalks toward the rocks.

Her hand hovers around them. Her palm begins to tingle, humming deep into her veins with a negative energy that makes her gut turn. Uncle Jason is right, these are not to be messed with and just reek of bad news. She bites at her lower lip in debate before taking a deep breath. This is going to need all the protection she can give to keep it out of the wrong hands. No. It's going to take more than she can give because she has no doubts of its abilities to attract the bad, the ugly, and the evil.

She takes a coin out of her pocket - ancient writing gleams against its golden surface. She whispers an incarnation under her breath, holding the coin tight before lifting it to her lips in a light kiss, pouring nothing but positivity, good intentions, and a good heart into its metal before she places it on the shelf, just in front of the rocks.

It may have been a trick of the eye, but she swears that the rocks lit up with an angry spark, lashing out toward the coin. But she blinks and sees nothing out of the ordinary. She hovers her hand around the area and can a tension between the two items, btu hopefully the good energy within the coin will be strong enough to mask the negativity of the rocks.

"Do you think it's a good idea to leave it out in the open?"

She winces at the close proximity between Boston and her as he hovers behind her, his face

inches from her ear. His eyes focus on the rocks and the coin.

"Probably not," she answers honestly, "But it's been a draining day. I think after I've had time to recharge that I'll do one of Mom's illusions spells to mask it even more - the more hidden it is, the better. For now, this and all of the warding I have set should be enough."

Boston doesn't speak for several moments – his gaze never leaves the rocks. For the first time in years, his expression is void of its usual lighthearted laughter and easy going nature. He looks… grim. Depressingly so.

"I hope you're right, Jen," his whisper is so soft she almost doesn't hear it. "… I hope you're right."