01x03 - The Devil's Vinyl

[bunniefuu]

(grunting)

(flies buzzing)

(screams)

(voices whispering indistinctly)

Oh, my God, it's real.

Bernie, thanks for seeing me.

No worries, darling.

Can I get you something?

sh*t of tequila, perhaps?

I'm good.

Are we alone?

Yeah.

Wait!

You should put on gloves.

(laughs)

The acetate's old.

The oil from your fingers could damage it.

It's freezing.

You been keeping it in the icebox or something?

Just run the spectrum analysis, Bernie. I need to know if it's genuine, and whatever you do, don't actually...

Listen to the damn thing. You've made that clear.

(cell phone ringing)

Promise me, Bernie.

Hear no evil, I swear.

I'll get you when I'm done. Now sod off, luv.

I will be home as soon as I can, honey.

I love you, Mommy.

Oh. (laughs)

(faint music playing)

(man laughs)

♪ Crows ♪
♪ Gonna fly... ♪

(man screaming)

Oh!

(groaning)

(screaming)

No!

Don't make me do it!

(shouting)

(woman screaming)

Hold it right there.

You Zed?

John said you might show up.

Kind of hoped you wouldn't.

I gather that, seeing how he didn't actually give me an address.

How did you find us?

Not a lot of millhouses in Atlanta.

John did say you were persistent.

Yeah, well, found a place to live downtown.

You'd better get used to me.

Zed... that means zero, right?

What kind of parents would name their kid that?

Who says my parents named me?

Go on, then.

Let's... say hi to His Satanic Majesty.

Hear me!

Most Unnameable of Devourers!

Shmaynee la geree la geray ohkleen... he who guarded the Eternal Gateway... who natair yat aboola dahba...

I seek an audience with one in your embrace!

Zed: What's he doing?

He's learning a spell.

Come on. I'll give you the penny tour.

Evray metah b'pee mehabbaqaq!

The mill belonged to an old friend.

He called it a supernatural safe house.

Most of the stuff here's too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands.

It didn't seem this big on the outside.

It's not.

I've been measuring the rooms.

Sometimes it's off a few inches.

Sometimes more.

That doesn't make any sense.

If you're looking for sense, you stumbled down the wrong rabbit hole.

Easy, mate.

Even I'm not ready for that one yet.

I think what Chas meant was, um, don't go wandering around here without a chaperone, all right?

Right.

Each one of these stigmata represents a place where something bad is going down.

Supernatural brushfires, if you will.

Me, Chas and a few others?

We're the bucket brigade.

Is this your latest fire?

Bernie was a friend of mine.

No way in hell he'd take his own life.

Doesn't mean his death was one of your stigmata.

Bernie lived in the Windy City.

And I don't believe in coincidences.

Go on then.

See if you get a hit.

I smell jasmine.

She's a regular psychic smorgasbord, this one.

Picks up impressions from tactile stimuli.

Which I'm guessing is kind of a buzzkill in the sack.

It's cold!

All right.

Well, I'll let you know if any of that pans out.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

You're not ducking out on me again.

You promised me you'd teach me about my abilities.

Teaching you is one thing. Letting you ride shotgun on a spiritual scavenger hunt?

That's another beast, luv.

You said you didn't believe in coincidences.

That's right.

And I show up just when you're planning to leave.

This is my education.

The cab's still down.

Chas: It is.

You got a car?

A truck.

Knock yourself out then, MacDuff.

But, uh, I'm in charge of the music, yeah?

The girl's got skills.

Yeah, and she's easy on the eye.

But?

She showed up last week out of nowhere.

She may be legit.

Or she may have more... unseemly motives.

Either way, I'm best keeping her close for now.

See what you can dig up on her, will you?

What's in the man purse?

Bits and bobs.

Holy water, police scanner, cemetery dirt, duct tape.

What's this? Oh, oh!

Don't touch.

These... are nails from the coffin of St. Padua.

Patron of lost souls. Watch.

The nails follow one another.

Tuck one of these in a bloke's pocket, you got yourself a nifty tracking device.

Now, if only I brought something to get through that bloody door.

Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!

Sorry. Clumsy!

It's all right.

Like this?

(chuckles)

We've got minutes at most.

Oh, damn it, Bernie.

Look at the state of you.

How did you two know each other?

Well, back in Jurassic times, I fronted a punk band called Mucous Membrane.

Yeah, that's right.

I wasn't always an upstanding warlock.

Bernie here produced our first and only record.

He tried his best, but... to tell you the truth, we were just a bunch of wankers trying to get laid. And here we are.

Reunited for one final comeback tour.

Courtesy of... this!

Hand of Glory.

You take the left hand of a man that's been hanged, pickle it in amniotic fluid for seven years, say the right incantation, and the dead will rise for as long as the candles burn.

Here.

Empty this on the floor.

Okay.

Hear me, most Unnameable of Devourers... he who guardeth the Golden Gateway...

I seek an audience with one in your embrace.

Come on, old sod.

(Zed gasps)

(undead moaning, clamoring)

Hold this. Bernie, Bernie! It's John.

Who did this to you?

The voice!

My God!

The voice. (stammers)

I... I don't understand, Bernie. I don't understand.

On the acetate.

So cold.

No, no. Bring the hand closer!

Come on, Bernie, don't leave me.

Give me something else, give me something else, Bernie.

Come on.

Moonrise.

Rest in peace, mate.

Are you okay?

I'm just fine, luv.

Just forced one of my old friends to relive the worst moment of his life, but I'm just fine.

You said that every spell had its price.

What did this one cost?

My own mortality.

A few days' worth.

Kind of like a reverse mortgage.

You do that a lot?

I do what it takes.

Right, we need to find a library to follow up on some of Bernie's leads.

A voice, an acetate, and, uh...

"moonrise," whatever the bloody hell that means.

Well, my guess is Moonrise Records.

See Google right here?

Well, Bernie was in the music business, and back in the 1930s, there was a blues record label by the name of "Moonrise."

You don't say.

The owner, Marcus Mooney, he's still alive.

We could go pay him a visit.

Girl: Mom?

(gasps)

What are you doing?

Nothing.

I... I was just...

Why are you up?

I had a nightmare.

Aw, baby.

Someone was trying to take you away from me.

I'm not going anywhere, Julilah.

Mom?

Yeah.

What's that?

Constantine (southern accent): Hi, we're here to see Marcus Mooney.

Visiting hours are over.

Health and Human Services.

Now, I am sure, Tammy, that you can make an exception now.

Room 2022.

Thank you, now.

That was a neat trick.

(normal voice): It's not a trick.

Magic.

And not the Copperfield kind.

The card's charmed.

It's got a pretty bloody backstory, but the gist of it is... it takes on the appearance of whatever its holder requires.

Who are you?

Friends, if you'll have us.

You seem like a friend.

That one's got a... a shadow dogging his soul.

More than one, Marcus.

I'm John Constantine.

I need some help.

I'm here to ask about the acetate.

Lord, don't tell me you played it.

No.

But a friend of mine, he might have.

And now he's dead.

You care to shed some light on the matter?

You ever heard of...

Willie Cole?

A Memphis bluesman.

b*rned bright in the '30s, and then just upped and vanished.

I used to produce him.

I had an old recording studio.

I know you like to sing alone, so I'll leave you to it.

All right.

Willie's legend was, he sold his soul to the Devil.

Never put much stock in that.

♪ Shadows gonna rise... ♪

Turns out, the acetate he was working on... recorded something when he d*ed.

♪ Bitch dogs gonna howl... ♪

The voice of the Deceiver.

Hmm.

That's an urban legend, mate.

This is real.

Hello?

(distorted voice speaking indistinctly)

No.

It's not my path.

You promised!

You promised!

(screaming)

(distorted voice continues)

Wasn't nothing left except blood.

When I picked up the acetate,

I heard whispers.

I... In... in my head.

Voices... telling me to do horrible things.

And... And it was cold... to the touch.

It was so cold.

Why didn't you destroy it?

Well, don't you think I tried?

I... nothing worked.

So I buried it, I...

hid it, I sealed it up inside a wall.

And I prayed.

Any idea how Bernie came across it?

Private investigator.

Come to see me just last week.

Knew about the legend.

Wanted to buy the acetate.

The private investigator, he didn't happen to mention who he worked for, did he?

Oh, no.

But I saw a name on the check.

"Fell."

You did very good, Marcus.

I think it's time for me... to go to my reward.

Why do you say that?

I see an angel standing there.

(medical alarm sounds)

(gasping)

Nurse!

Shh...

(flatline sounds)

You recognized that name Marcus mentioned, didn't you?

Fell.

You remember I said that Bernie found some real stars?

Yeah.

Well, the brightest was a metalhead named Ian Fell.

Sold his soul.

You don't seem surprised at the idea of Old Scratch bartering for souls.

There's one thing I never understood is why he even wants our souls.

The Devil used to be an angel.

That's why he's called the "First of the Fallen."

You ask a holy type, and they'll tell you...

the soul is the purest expression of God's love.

The spark of creation.

Every time the First takes a soul, he's exacting revenge, paying back the Almighty for casting him out.

I do want to hear you.

I do.

What are you doing?

I'm breaking into the mansion.

Isn't that illegal?

Almost everything I do is, luv.

Come on.

(guitar playing)

There he is, that smug tosser.

(shouts indistinctly)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Don't shout!

And don't squirm.

How did Bernie get the acetate?

Acet...?

Bernie was a friend, Ian.

He was a friend.

And if he d*ed as a result of a deal that you made, there's gonna be retribution.

Look, man, I don't know anything about any deal!

A no-talent hack turns overnight sensation, and you're telling me that you didn't take a shortcut.

Hey, John, something's going on.

I keep smelling jasmine.

Now, this guy is backing out of a deal, and people are dying, and you need to own up to it.

Woman: He can't.

(g*n hammer cocks)

He didn't make the deal.

I did.

Constantine: Jasmine Fell.

Off-key backup singer and loyal spouse.

Ain't love grand?

Jasmine, do we know these people?

Zed: We're not here to hurt you.

Constantine: Don't be so sure.

The night's still young, and Bernie's still dead.

This is a nightmare.

Just tell me what's going on, please.

Constantine: Yeah, tell him.

Tell him how you entered into a contract you're now trying to break at the cost of other people's lives, just so you could climb the charts.

That's not it.

No, of course, because the money really hurt your lifestyle, didn't it?

The mega mansion, the shiny clothes.

Did you even bother to check the price tag of those shoes?

Ian was dying.

He had cancer.

I didn't see that one coming.

You sacrificed your soul for his life.

Why don't you show him the contract, luv?

(sighs)

Do you remember your first day in the hospital?

They said you had a month, maybe two.

This man came to me in the waiting room that night.

He told me his name was Anton.

Sounds like a soul broker.

They troll hospitals for the dying.

I didn't even think it was real.

But I signed it.

Then you went into total remission.

Constantine: May I?

Etruscan rune.

This Anton... he may have been a skeevy bloke, but he had a toe in the nether realm, all right.

Take a look.

Anton said when the last words faded, the First of the Fallen would return to claim his prize.

So, why try and break the deal, Jasmine?

It wasn't my idea.

Anton got back in touch.

He told me he could trade my soul back for the acetate.

Soul brokers never break a deal.

They lose their right of parley with the underworld.

Something here doesn't add up.

So what did this, uh, Anton want you to do?

He wanted me to hunt down the acetate.

He knew you were a rock star with money and endless resources.

Zed: And motivation.

Constantine: This, uh, Anton... when did he expect to lay his hands on the acetate?

I'm supposed to take it to him tonight.

He texted me an address.

Let me take care of that for you.

I'm your best sh*t at ending this nightmare.

Give us a hug, then.

Thank you.

(blues guitar playing)

♪ Crows gonna fly ♪
♪ Bitch dogs gonna howl ♪

What's that music?

Oh, my God. Julilah!

♪ Reaper man gonna come...♪

Julilah!

Get away from it!

Get away from it!

(record scratches, cuts off) Oh, my God.

Ian: Is she okay?

Look at me, Julilah.

Is she okay, Jas?

Yeah, yeah, I think she's okay.

Baby...

(Julilah sighs)

Televangelist: Open your heart to the Lord and let yourself be healed.

For God's presence inside you, in your mind, body and soul...

God has spoken to us through the Scriptures.

We must share the Gospel and spread God's wisdom to those who have never heard the Word of the Lord.

Name it and claim it!

Ah, you must be Anton.

Who are you?

Someone who knows that soul brokers are ambulance chasers, not original thinkers.

Save a human soul?

A wall-licker like you don't have the power.

So... what kind of a con are you running on the lady?

There's no con.

Okay?

Just give me the acetate.

I'll give her what she wants.

She wants her soul.

And it's not yours to give.

You traded it 20 years ago for Ian Fell's life.

No, don't say his name! Why not?

You just blew my deal!

(deep laughter)

Constantine: I should've known that you were behind this, Papa Midnite.

All right.

(laughing)

So... Ian Fell.

Thank you, Constantine.

At least I know where to find the acetate now.

Papa Midnite.

I didn't take you for a fan of religious broadcasting.

Unless there's a Voodoo Channel I'm missing from my basic cable package.

On the contrary, there's a lot these learned men can teach me.

Like what?

How to trick a desperate woman into using all her resources to obtain a deadly artifact for you?

You know, that recording, in your hands, gives you more power than I'm comfortable with, mate.

Name it and claim it.

Come again?

It's the basic building block of televangelism.

There are promises out there waiting for us, if we only have the courage to name them and claim them.

That's exactly the kind of backward thinking I'd expect from a cheating, drug-dealing voodoo priest like...

(grunts)

(chuckling)

(coughing)

Aah!

(shouts)

(chuckling)

They tell me this place used to flourish.

Busy factories making things, workers scurrying...

Now it's a concrete graveyard.

All this just to get me alone?

I'm flattered.

But you're gonna have to respect my boundaries.

I don't do zip ties without a safe word.

Made of copper.

More than effective against your mail-order magic.

My men are unburdening Ian Fell of his problem as we speak.

Thanks to you, Constantine.

What do you want with the acetate, Midnite?

There's no money it in.

It's an insurance policy.

A get-out-of-Hell-free card.

Don't tell me that's not why you're after it.

You know, I lied.

About Ian Fell.

For you, lying is easy.

You've been at it so long, you've forgotten what it's like to work hard for something. Ooh... (hisses)

Ooh... what is that?

Heparin.

An anticoagulant.

You'll have four hours.

That's if you stay very still and say your prayers.

A slow death.

But not too slow. Is that it?

If my two associates don't return from Fell's with the acetate, I want to be able to come back and question you more... aggressively. (screams)

Oh...

I always took you for a... a voodoo priest with a... a flair for the dramatic.

But a cold-blooded k*ller?

I do what's needed.

But I don't need to darken my soul tonight.

Not with the situation firmly in hand.

A pharmaceutical dose of vitamin K.

This will stop the bleeding... if you can get to it.

Consider it a show of professional respect.

If you live, you have worked very hard indeed.

If you die, it will be alone with your many, many sins.

(coughing)

(car engine starts, revs away)

(thunder crashes)

Great, yeah. Why not?

(sighs)

(thunder crashes)

It's been hours and no word.

Can you get on that red-eye to Chicago?

Yeah, man, I think we're gonna need your help.

Thanks, Chas.

How's Julilah?

She's okay.

Finally asleep.

Back up! move! i'm gonna make this simple: give us the acetate, or everyone dies.

What acetate?

Don't waste my time.

You don't understand.

It's very dangerous.

No! No, no, no!

Give it to us!

It's cool. It's cool.

You can have it.

Jasmine, if you give it up...

It's in there.

Just don't touch it with your bare hands.

Don't tell me what to touch, bitch.

Midnite said make it clean.

We got what we need.

Oh, my God. Your friend.

Is smarter than they are.

So are we.

Man: Midnite should be here any minute.

Weird.

It's cold.

Can't you hear it?

The voices?

Put it down, man.

We need to hear it.

(whispering voices)

They all need to hear it.

We're not supposed to touch it.

Put it, put it down.

Let go of me!

Let go of me!

♪ There was a poor sod name of J ♪
♪ For whom he had nothing to pray ♪
♪ He d*ed all alone ♪

And he bled to the bone... and for what, he just couldn't say.

Go on, mate.

Have a bloody nibble.

See what the damned taste like.

(rat squeaking)

Oh, mate.

Mate, you are... you are a welcome sight.

Do us a favor, cut us loose, will you?

Lives depend on it, especially mine.

Hey, what are you doing with that?

Just cut us loose, will you, mate?

Good.

No, no, no, that's-that's my shoe.

Oh, bloody...

(laughing)

What happened?

What happened to the John Constantine with the cojones to tell an angel to go to hell?

Cut me loose and I'll show you, you celestial wank.

We've been over that.

You know I can't do it.

I'm bleeding out here. You know, I feel your moral compass wavering, John.

You think that recording might have trade value.

Does it really surprise you that I... want something a little bit more potent in my arsenal? You're not dealing with some second-rate hell-spawn.

If that voice belongs to the First of the Fallen, there is only one true way to deal with that record.

Do you have the courage?

Maybe you'll find out... once you free me from these bloody ties!

(groans)

You don't need me for that.

You got this situation under control.

(groans) Next time, I'm gonna punch him.

Hey, mate.

Mate, listen, I've got something for you.

And it's all yours if you just... if you just cut me loose.

It's in my front pocket.

You won't be disappointed, I promise.

That's it.

There you go.

Now, you can use that to buy all the junk and the deodorant or whatever it is you want to buy.

Just cut me loose.

That's it, mate, yeah.

Just... cut me loose.

If you're alive, I can't use the card.

Oh, no, no, uh... uh, uh, that's... no, no, no, you don't want to...

Come on!

(groans) God!

Get the hell out of here!

(sighs)

A hug? Really?

(groans)

Yeah, I knew that was out of character for you.

You could have just told me you planted the St. Padua nail on Jasmine.

You okay?

(groaning): Yeah.

Just give me those pills over there, will you?

Yeah.

(sighs)

I knew you'd follow me into the lion's den.

I just needed you to stay with Jasmine.

For all the good that did.

Midnite's men.

(sighs) Bloody hell.

That recording... it's got a demonic energy.

It wants to be played.

Once it gets in their heads, they won't be able to resist.

You bring my bag?

Yeah.

It's in the back of the truck.

Let's go.

(siren whooping, indistinct radio transmission)

Bastards.

They took it to a club, gave it a spin.

They just couldn't resist seeing what playing the acetate would do.

Thanks for joining us.

You bring what I asked for?

Headphones, MP3 player, clean shirt.

Orange juice.

Really?

Got to get your blood sugar back up.

All right, Daddy.

I did what you asked... I called in a few favors.

A P.I. friend of mine ran Zed's prints.

Whoever she is, she's not in any law enforcement database.

I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad one.

(Zed whistles)

Well, at least she's making herself useful.

(chuckles) For now.

Well, this is Freddy.

He works as a busboy.

He said he saw the whole thing.

I don't need his whole bloody résumé, luv.

Listen.

How did you walk away from this?

Oh, I'm sorry, mate. Is it the, uh... is it the accent?

Zed: No.

It's your arrogance.

He's deaf.

What happened?

Says two guys went into the club... into the DJ booth.

Everybody went crazy.

Like I said... useful.

Constantine: The acetate has its own hypnotic power.

Those guys, they're gonna want to play that record to as big as audience as they can find.

This isn't Midnite's doing.

His boys have gone off book.

(low growling)

What's the matter?

Don't you see it?

(growling softly)

See what, luv?

There's a tiger.

White tiger.

You see a tiger.

I see one, too.

Constantine: Where?

Where?

Scott University Tiger Radio.

That's where they're going to broadcast the acetate.

Follow me.

I think we should do what she says.

All right, but we don't have to just jump when she says it.

Okay, that's long enough. Let's go.

Radio DJ: You're listening to WIXA, Tiger Radio 97.5 FM.

We're almost there.

Radio DJ: Who is that?

(people screaming, g*nf*re)

Man: Everybody, get down!

Step on it.

(tires screech)

We only got one set of headphones.

You two stay out here.

Find a way to get this station off the grid.

(sighs) Give me some juice, Johnny.

♪ I am an Antichrist ♪
♪ I am an anarchist ♪
♪ Don't know what I want but I know how to get it ♪
♪ I want to destroy passerby ♪
♪ 'Cause I ♪
♪ Want to be ♪
♪ Anarchy ♪
♪ No dogsbody ♪

(grunts)

Screw this.

Stand back.

Stand back!

♪ And maybe ♪
♪ I give a wrong time stop at traffic line ♪
♪ Your future dream is a shopping scheme ♪
♪ 'Cause I ♪
♪ I want to be ♪
♪ Anarchy ♪

(distorted wailing, shouting)

(chattering, crying)

(panting)

(grunts)

(groans)

Nice sh**ting.

Eh, Ace of Winchester.

Never misses.

Forged by a mystic in the Old West.

I'll bet you got a whole w*r chest of toys like that, haven't you? Yes.

And soon one more.

You know I can't let you take it.

And you know you can't stop me.

Stay right where you are.

You can't stop it. It needs to be played.

Exorcizámos te,

ómnis immúnde spíritus,

ómnis satánic potéstas,

ómnis infernális adversárii...

What is this?

in nómine et virtúte

Constantine!

Dómini nóstri

Jésu.

What's happening?

There's only one true way to deal with our recording.

I drew on the disc's own dark magic to send it back to hell where it belongs.

(screaming)

It belongs to me. It's mine!

It belongs to me!

(rumbling)

(crackling)

Constantine.

(knocking)

What took so long? Sorry for the delay.

Took a while to track this one down.

She's in there.

You need to help her.

She's almost out of time.

You sure this is gonna work?

In a fashion.

The Fallen One will lose his claim on your wife's soul, but what she traded it for, your health...

Ian, no. I won't let you do this.

What?

Cancer? Yeah, sure, 20 years ago I didn't have a sh*t.

But they have better treatments today.

And now I got a lot more to fight for.

All right, rat boy, you're up.

You're the one that brokered this deal.

You're the only one who can break it.

Time to eat the contract. I can't.

If I break a deal with the Dark One...

Sod off!

You've done enough to hurt these people.

(muffled shouting)

Chew.

(grunting)

Ian: When you said "eat the contract," you weren't kidding.

Where do you think the saying comes from?

It's as old as the Aramaic on that rune.

Swallow.

(gulps)

Constantine: We all negotiate deals with forces bigger than us.

But who are we truly negotiating with?

The divine?

Well, it's only natural.

Prayer is one big negotiation with a higher power.

But in times of true crisis, we'll make a pact with whatever forces it takes.

And pay whatever price.