"Ooooh, Maddie! It came!" Jack picked the thin package up and spun around.

"What is it?" asked Danny around a spoonful of cereal (Cosmic Crunch, now with extra marshmallow stars!), mildly alarmed. It probably wasn't anything inherently dangerous, he'd sense it if it was, it was unlikely to be anything nice, either. Best case scenario was some kind of Vlad Masters fan boy merch. Which. Barf. Worst case, well...

He didn't have a good track record with his parents' packages.

"Just some nonsense your father picked up online."

Ooh, they were fighting. Good to know. Hopefully it wasn't Santa-related. He'd die. Literally, if temporarily. It was way too early in the year.

"It's not nonsense!" protested Jack, tearing into the package to reveal an... oversized manila envelope. He held it up, as if it refuted Maddie's point entirely.

"Magic isn't real, dear."

"Yes, it is! There are wizards and magicians in the Justice League!"

"There are wizard and magician themed superheroes in the Justice League. That one girl does stage magic, sleight of hand, publicly. They're almost certainly aliens or metas."

Well. Danny didn't know about the guys on the Justice League, but he knew for a fact that magic was real, dangerous, and not always detectable in the same way ghost stuff was. So that little manila envelope might have something more dangerous in it than he'd initially assume.

"Okay, but that doesn't answer what it's supposed to be," he pointed out, lowering his spoon to his bowl.

"Oh, yeah! It's a soul contract! It gives me ownership of a human soul!"

"... Huh?"

Maddie was wearing her goggles, but even so, it was obvious she was rolling her eyes. "A man claiming to be a demonologist said he'd gotten it in a bargain with a demon."

Danny blinked. "Isn't that usually the other way around?"

Maddie shrugged.

"Well, yeah, but the demonologist had something that pesky demon wanted!" said Jack, beaming. "So it had to pay up! Apparently, the soul belongs to some hotshot wizard!"

"It's a scam, Jack."

"Well, spell scam backwards and you get macs! As in, take it to the max! Bonzai!" He opened the envelope with a flourish, and pulled out a piece of yellowed but otherwise normal-looking paper.

Emphasis on looking, because now that Danny had his eyes on it, he could tell it wasn't normal. The power in it was faint, but it was there.

"I'm going to go run some tests on it!" declared Jack, taking off into the basement.

"It's just old printer paper, Jack!" yelled Maddie, before returning to her coffee with a huff.

"Uh," said Danny. He looked at Maddie, who still had a sour expression on her face. "I'm going to... uh... make sure he doesn't set anything on fire." Or summon a demon, accidentally or on purpose.

.

"Aw," said Jack, after several nerve-wracking (for Danny) days. "I guess Maddie was right. It is just a normal piece of paper. I'm sorry, Danno. I know you were real interested."

"Uh huh," said Danny, still a little burnt out from destroying the automatic demon summoning machine Jack had built and promptly forgotten about in a corner. "So, uh. I guess you don't need it?"

"Eh? Well, no, I guess not. Might as well chuck it!"

"Actually, I was wondering if I could have it!" said Danny, quickly, before Jack could crumple up the contract.

"Really? Why?"

That was a good question, honestly. It had caused him a lot of trouble, and he didn't really want to own a guy's soul, but the idea of just throwing out something like this struck Danny as a bad one. Maybe he could track the guy down and give it back to him, assuming he wasn't an evil bastard. Which he might be, if he did things like making deals with demons.

"I don't know," said Danny, shrugging. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? Like, I own this guy's soul now. It's in writing and everything."

Jack chuckled. "That it is! Sure, you can have it! Maybe we can even get it framed or something."

The small power in the paper shifted slightly with the change in ownership. Danny didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Ha, maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's fine the way it is for right now, though." He slid over to the table the paper was on, and gently tugged it out of the ecto-measurement apparatus. "I'll just put this away!"

And try to learn more about it.

.

Johnny Thirteen simultaneously gave off the vibes of being someone who Knew Stuff and the vibes of someone who had never had a thought in his life. As such, when Danny saw him standing in the middle of the mall, obviously freaking out, he knew he was the perfect person to ask about the whole 'owning a soul' thing.

So, Danny slowly sidled up to him.

"Trying to find a gift for Kitty?"

"Ohholysh-! Phaaaenton! The hell are you so sneaky?"

Danny shrugged. "You need help?"

Johnny squinted. "What's it to you?"

"Come on, I offer to help you all the time."

"Yeah, sure, usually followed by the whole 'get out of my town' speech."

"Gasp," said Danny, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm so offended. Yeah, dude, I want you out of town when you're breaking the speed limit by eighty miles an hour and Shadow is destroying everything you touch, putting dozens of people in danger of injury or death. Shocker. But I've got some questions about this thing I found, and I'm willing to deal with whatever Shadow's doing to get answers. As long as he isn't about to hurt someone."

"What makes you think Shadow's doing anything?" demanded Johnny, right before a set of shelves in the nearby candle store collapsed.

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. Mine and Kitty's anniversary is coming up, and I dunno what to get her. What do you want?"

"I need to know if soul contracts are a thing and how they work. Like, what they do and stuff like that."

"Holy crap, did someone try to buy your soul?"

"No," said Danny. He made a face, then admitted, "My dad bought one and when it looked like it wasn't going to do anything ghostly, he gave it to me."

Johnny's eyebrows flew up. "Jesus Christ, you're involved in the soul trade."

"Don't say it like that," said Danny, masterly ignoring the sounds of a twenty-four lunch pileup from the food court. "I just didn't want to leave it lying around. It's not going to corrupt my soul or anything like that, is it?"

"Nah," said Johhny. He reached into his pocket for something. "I'm not philophical or anything, but even when you're dealing with magic there's wayyy more nuance in good and evil than people like to think. Smoke?"

"Stop that, you'll set the smoke alarms off. What else do you know about this stuff."

Johnny stuck his cigarette into his mouth and held up a finger. "Gift for Kitty first, then answers."

That was about what Danny expected. "Okay. Which anniversary is it for you guys, anyway?"

Johnny shrugged. "Dunno."

Yikes. He wasn't as bad as Jack, who could probably take Olympic gold in time blindness, but still.

"Well," he said, summoning years' worth of his mother's lectures on the subject, "flowers and chocolate are always good. So's jewelry. But they have to be quality. Then there's, I don't know, hobby stuff? Does Kitty have any hobbies?"

"She's been on some kinda fitness kick lately. Maybe I can get her some diet shakes or something like that? Maybe a scale? Ours broke."

"Absolutely not. I'd ask how you were still alive, but you're not, so. Anything else?"

"What's wrong with diet shakes?"

"Dude. Are you trying to call her fat? Move on. What else does she like?"

"She used to do some knitting?"

Wow, Danny would never have thought that.

"Okay, I guess you could give her some yarn, too? That's not enough on it's own... Maybe take her out on a fancy date, too? Or," he continued, think things through from a more ghostly perspective, "you could do like... a gesture? Like, beat up an enemy for her or something. But a date, definitely."

"I know about dates," said Johnny. "It's the present that's trouble!"

"Well, I've given you options."

"Yeah, sure, options, as if I'm made of money."

"You're saying you're dead broke?"

This isn't funny, you twerp! This is my afterlife on the line!"

"Oh my gosh, calm down. If you can't pay for it, just fight someone for it or steal it or something."

Johnny eyed him doubtfully. "You'll be me up if I do."

"I'll beat you up if you try and do it here," clarified Danny. "Walker has a bunch of stuff. So does the Box Ghost. And I know for a fact Bertrand and Spectra have a bunch of wedding rings."

"Why would they-?"

"Wedding counselor scam. Don't ask. It sucked. Anyway, go fight one of them instead of involving humans. I know you can at least take Boxy."

"Yeah, great idea! I'll just go-!"

Danny grabbed the tail of Johnny's leather coat before he could fly away. "Your side. Now. And let's get out of the mall before Shadow sets the candle store on fire or something."

"He wouldn't do that, he hates fire!"

The fire alarm started going off. Danny spared a minute to stare at Johnny flatly. "Don't go anywhere."

.

Johnny did go somewhere. He didn't get very far.

.

"You know, this makes me much less likely to make deals with you in the future, right?" asked Danny from his perch on Johnny's back.

"Aw, come on, you didn't even have to 'go ghost' or whatever to find me."

"I did to put out the fire, though. Do you know how fast a candle store can go up? Do you?"

"No," admitted Johnny.

"It's fast. Really fast. Buildings in general burn fast. I prefer fighting fires to murder attempts, but that's like comparing getting shot with a shotgun to getting shot with a pistol. They both suck. You get me?"

"Uhh..."

"Never mind. So. Selling souls. Soul contracts. Whatever. What can you tell me?"

"It's like, a thing some demons and devils do with humans. Pretty much what it sounds like. Power or favors for the soul upon death. Or when they're dead."

"Bit of a weird distinction to make."

"Yeah, well, believe it or not, it's come up. And Ancients only know how you'd count with either of those."

"Hm," said Danny. "I probably count as having died, but am I dead... I guess it matters for people who are only temporarily dead? Like, people who get resuscitated? Or whatever the JL has going on."

"Yeah, that's it exactly. But basically, if you have a contract with one of those guys and you die, it's a one way ticket to the Unworld. Hell. Whatever you want to call it. No chance of forming a normal ghost or getting into the nice afterlives. Unless someone intervenes for you and they pack a big punch, it's eternal slavery, torture, or being eaten. Sometimes all three."

"What if someone who isn't a demon has the contract?"

"I dunno, it doesn't come up much, man. Heard about some angels shredding a few a while back, and there've been rumors about where Nocturne gets his sleepwalkers for ages, and about Pariah's army, too, but nothing solid. I guess you'd own them. Thralldom. Maybe their soul would get suctioned to you instead?"

Danny grimaced. He didn't want to own anyone. So. "Any way to safely get rid of one?"

"Sell it?"

"No, I mean, like, destroy it. So it doesn't hurt me or the other guy."

"Dunno. Try and find an angel, I guess."

"Johnny, where am I going to find an angel?"

"Pft. It's not like they live on another planet or anything."

"No, just in another dimension."

"Hey, it's called the Infinite Realms for a reason. But, like, are you sure you want to free up someone who made a deal with a demon for power?"

See, this is why Danny got Johnny for advice. Other than him just being available.

"Yeah, okay, you have a point there. I'll come back to that. You ever see a soul contract before? You could tell if it was a real one?"

"Uh, maybe?" Johnny shifted slightly. "I only ever saw one, and it was for this weirdo named John Constantine. You'd get a real kick out of his story."

Danny stiffened slightly, recognizing the name. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Like, I don't know if the man is big on balls or short on brain cells, but you've got to admire it anyway." Johnny chuckled. "So, get this. The guy's dying. And, you know, he sucks, so he's convinced he's going to Hell, right?"

"Sure," said Danny. He didn't really get how people were sorted into afterlives, but, for obvious reasons, it wasn't a problem he was going to personally face.

"He doesn't want to go to Hell."

"Reasonable."

"He picks a fight with Satan."

"He- Like, the actual Satan?" The Infinite Realms being what they were, names from mythology tended to have a lot of different claimants.

"Don't know, don't care. He's a tough dude, anyway. So, Johnny C, he picks a fight with Satan. Which, again, respect. Gotta beat up the biggest guy in the prison yard. And Satan's all like, ooh, now I've got to have your soul and torture you for all eternity. God, demons are so boring. Then our boy goes and sells a his soul to two biggest, nastiest demons he could find. Like, you'd call them Ancients if they ever took a break from torture."

Wow, Danny wasn't liking the revelation that demons could be as strong as the Ancients. "Okay, so far I'm leaning more towards the dumb category rather than the bold category for this guy, but continue."

"Right, so here's the genius part: He sold it to both of them."

"Yeah? You said that."

"Without the other one knowing. So, when it started to look like he was going to kick it, they all showed up to his deathbed and started fighting, including good ol' Satan."

"Why'd they have to go to his deathbed?" asked Danny. "I thought the soul just went swoop to them." He made a sort of sweeping motion with his hand, not sure how truly disembodied souls should move.

"Don't ask me, man, this is all third hand. Fourth hand? Whatever. Point is, since demons are all assholes, they'd fight each other if his soul was up for grabs, and none of them were too sure about their chances, what with all of them having armies or whatever, so they shoved him back in his body, healed him, and went on their way."

"They can do that?"

"Yeah, like I said, they're almost Ancients."

"So... It's an immortality scam," said Danny.

"Yeah, and, guess what, he's still doing it. Like, the guy sells his soul like it's going out of style, because it can't get much worse for him, right?"

"Okay," said Danny, "but it sounds like he's well known, so... Why would anyone buy his soul, if it's a scam?"

"Clout, probably? They get passed into the Zone sometimes, and I don't know how demons see it, but it's got to be a big boost being able to say you've got the soul of someone who's in the Justice League."

Danny was about to make a comment about a guy like that getting into the Justice League, but then he remembered something terribly important. "The Justice League, you say?"

"Yeah, wild, right?"

"So, uh. I guess the contracts he made with the big demons said they'd get his soul when he was dead?"

"Yeah, probably. Why?"

"What'd happen if he made a later contract with someone else and it said after he'd died?"

"Well, unless they wanted to piss off the big demons, they'd leave it."

"Uh huh," said Danny, rubbing his lower lip. "And, hypothetically, what would happen if someone... collected all those different contracts?"

"Holy crap, you really are getting into the soul trade."

"Hey! I'm just trying to help out a fellow hero!" said Danny, who absolutely had an ulterior motive, even if it was mostly benign. "It's not very useful to just give him back one contract, is it?"

Johnny, uncharitably, snorted.

"So, do you know who has his contracts?"

.

"You want to do what?" asked Jazz, a spoonful of yogurt hanging forgotten in front of her mouth. "For what?"

"I want to collect all of John Constantine's soul contracts so I can blackmail him into taking me to the Justice League's super secret space base."

"Danny..." said Jazz. She finally lowered the spoon, then looked around the kitchen as if their parents might pop out of one of the cabinets, despite being off installing ghost shields around a private kindergarten on the edge of town. "Don't you think buying someone's soul is a little..."

"Hey, he's the one that sold it."

"Probably for a good cause, if he's in the Justice League."

"Sure," said Danny, "and I'm going to give them all back to him, really, but between this and me managing to get past the NASA health checks, which is more likely?"

He really was going to give all the contracts back to Constantine, or at least destroy them, renounce them, void them, whatever, but the guy clearly needed an intervention. Stat. Plus, secret space station base.

It wasn't like he was going to make him do anything bad. And he'd make a proper appointment and everything, back off if there was a Justice League emergency, that kind of thing. He was sympathetic to the plight of the overwhelmed and formerly-dead superhero! He was one!

"Danny, if you..." she sighed heavily, "blackmail this guy with his soul contracts, don't you think he'll wonder how you got them? You don't want to be investigated, right?"

"Yeah! That's why I'll get all of them as a human! It'll be like a hobby. A personal challenge!" He pumped his fist.

Jazz stared at him with a mixture of resignation and horror. "Danny... you know that's worse, right? That's going to make them investigate you. As opposed to Phantom."

"Yep! And then they'll find the portal to the afterlife in our basement, and maybe they'll finally take us seriously." His eyes briefly flared green.

"Right," said Jazz. "Okay." She picked up her spoon and continued eating her yogurt with an air of extreme exhaustion. "As long as we're going all-in on the lunacy, sure. Fine. Whatever. Don't sell your soul or your firstborn by mistake."

Danny gave her two thumbs up. "I won't!"

.

"You want to what?" asked Sam.

"I want you to help me buy this guy's soul."

"From ebay?"

Danny nodded. "From ebay."

"I thought they didn't let you sell souls on ebay."

"Yeah, the seller is using a loophole, where they're actually selling the contract, but that seems to be good enough for the magic."

Sam stared at Danny for a moment, then shrugged. "You know what? I'm in."

.

"Okay," said Sam, dropping a huge book on the table, forcing Tucker to scramble to save his lunch, "this spell isn't specifically for soul contracts, but should let you find 'similar magic.'"

"Sweet," said Danny, pulling the book over. "You think I'll be able to do this?"

"If not," said Sam, "I'll help you out."

"Well," said Tucker, "can you do it somewhere else? That thing is dusty, and I need protein to survive seventh period!"

.

Danny walked around the circle of mushrooms three times before closing his eyes and stepping into it. When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else, but there was the thin silver line of magic, leading onward.

So far, so good!

.

"Oh my gosh," groaned Danny, sprawled on the couch, "there's still so many. Why are there still so many?"

"Well," said Jazz, "it's possible that he's still selling his soul. So you might never be able to get all of them."

"Gross," said Danny. "I want him to stop." Something tingled, and Danny sat bolt upright."

"What is it?" asked Jazz, reaching for her wrist ray.

Danny focused, but... "Nothing. I guess I just got a chill."

"That's unusual."

"Yeah."

.

"Okay," said the minor demon from inside the summoning circle, "you drive a hard bargain, human. I'll sell it to you, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You cause that bastard magician problems."

"That is the intention."

.

Danny sized up the demon in front of him, then raised his modified ectoblaster. "Well," he said, pleasantly, "if you don't want to sell now, I guess I can beat you up until you change your mind."

"And what can a human like you do? You aren't even wearing a symbo-"

Danny shot the demon in the face with holy-water-infused ectoplasm.

.

Danny set his homework down on the table and stared at Clockwork's extremely smug face. "What do you mean I could have just been stealing them the whole time?"

"Well," demurred Clockwork, his voice oddly synchronized with the ticking clocks of his lair, "not all of them. Some of them are only transferable through willing trade, not through possession of the physical version of the contract. But I'm sure you're well aware of how demons are at this point"

Danny groaned. "I've been trying to figure out what I can trade them or threaten them with all month."

"Indeed. But do be aware that stealing from demons is risky business."

.

It evolved the demons did not guard their vaults against living human incursion as well as they should have. Danny had lots of fun.

.

"Look," said the demon, "I don't even want it anymore." It snapped its fingers, and a... thing... appeared in a burst of gray smoke. "Look at it! I feel like it's looking at me!"

Danny examined the admittedly creepy but not at all haunted baby doll the contract was written on and sensed an opportunity. "Good point. You know what, I've changed my mind. You can keep it."

"No! Wait! Human, take it! Take it! I'll pay you!"

.

"Hey, Sam, I got your money back."

.

With a triumphant smile, Danny added the last of the contracts to what he'd dubbed 'Constantine's pile of bad decisions.'

It promptly exploded.

.

On reflection, Danny thought, staring dazedly around the room, it hadn't really been an explosion. Not a very big one, anyway. His room was completely intact. Except...

Except the contracts were gone. Shredded. There were little bits of paper (and doll stuffing) strewn around the room like confetti.

Danny screamed internally. What. Had. Happened. Had Constantine booby trapped his contracts somehow? Jerk. That was so unfair!

Except... He rubbed his eyes, as if that would do anything. The magic was very clearly still there. He hauled himself to his feet, tapping into his flight just a little bit, and stumbled forward, glaring at the drawer he'd kept everything in, as if it had answers to whatever had just happened.

His sense of the magic- It very clearly moved with him. Oh. That wasn't great.

.

"Great one," said Frostbite, pressing his icy hand to his ectoplasmic one, "why didn't you come to us sooner? Or at least instead of Johnny Thirteen?"

"I don't know," said Danny, "I thought I had a handle on it! And, I, um, maybe... didn't have the right, or, uh, pure intentions."

Frostbite made a ice bench behind him without looking back, which was pretty cool. Danny wished he could do something that specific without looking. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Danny bobbed in the air, uncertainly, "he has access to this really cool space station that I wanted to go to... Like it would have been a win-win, though! I was going to give him back all of the contracts... So I guess it would have been a reverse soul contract, but..." He shrugged. "Now the contracts are gone, but I can feel the magic, and I don't know what went wrong!"

"Ah," said Frostbite, "well, nothing wrong with indulging your passions, especially not when you can do both at once, but I'm not sure if anything did go wrong, in the way your thinking of. Given the unique nature of Mr. Constantine's contracts, and your complete and rightful ownership, I suspect that the magic in all of the contracts simply merged, destroying the physical manifestations of the contracts and simply anchored themselves on you."

"Okay," said Danny, "so... what does that mean? Can I get rid of it?"

"Great one, I am afraid you are going to have to get used to the idea of, well..."

"No," said Danny, "no, no. It was going to be temporary. I was just going to- It was going to be like a prank! I'd show up, boss him around a bit, teach him a moral lesson - like what Clockwork does, you know - then give it back! I can't for serious own someone! That's slavery! I can't do that to a person!"

"You don't have to do anything with it," said Frostbite, trying to be comforting. "You can ignore it completely... Although, I suppose it'll be a bit harder after he dies..."

"What happens when he dies?"

"Well, I suppose I should congratulate you on your first, ah, sworn vassal?"

"Are you just saying vassal to avoid saying thrall?"

Frostbite shrugged.

Danny groaned. "What am I going to do?"

"Perhaps tell Mr. Constantine his immortality scam is no longer in effect," suggested Frostbite. "And enjoy yourself. In the meantime, I will look into... potential solutions."

"Okay," said Danny. "Okay. I'll... do that."

.

Danny exited the portal and immediately realized that he had no idea how to contact John Constantine. Curse his inability to think things through or plan ahead. He thunked his head against the side of the portal.

He had a lot of work ahead of him.

"So," said Jazz, spinning on the computer chair, "is this when I tell you I-"

"You told me so, I get it, I get it. Ughhh."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, even I have to gloat now and again. How can I help?"

"You'll help?"

"Yeah, if you tell me what went wrong."

Danny cringed. "It's more like what went right."

.

"I can't believe you actually own a dude now," said Tucker, tapping away at his computer.

"Don't say it like that. I was going to give it back to him! And I'm not going to, like, make him do anything... except maybe show me the Watchtower... At least this way he's not going to get tortured when he dies?"

"That's real thin, dude, but I forgive you. I know you don't want to own a dude."

"I really don't want to own a dude. It was supposed to be a joke, and now it's a magically binding nonsense thing."

"Yep. Sounds like the story of our lives. Maybe next time don't mess with demon stuff."

"I was going to give it back!"

"Uh huh, I know you were buddy," said Tucker. "Wow. This guy is more of a ghost than you are."

.

Eventually, Danny decided the best course of action was to take a bus down to DC and walk up to the reception desk. It was also the worst course of action, because it meant he had to go to DC, and all the planning and excuses involved in that, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Hi," he said, pasting on his best smile. "I'm, uh, I'm looking for John Constantine."

"Okay, do you know what tour he's with?"

"No, he's a League member, um. I need to pass him a message."

"Oh," said the receptionist. "I'm not sure if anyone by that name is here right now. If you have an emergency, or need to report a crime-"

"No, no, I just need to send a message. Here. Please?" He handed over an envelope that contained a letter that should explain everything.

.

John strolled into the Watchtower, having been bullied into going to a meeting by Zatanna.

"Hey! Constantine! Check your mail, it's overflowing!"

He waved them off as an acknowledgement. What could be in his mail, anyway?

An envelope thrown like a shuriken hit him in the back of the head. "Seriously, it's becoming a problem!"

John glared at the spandex-wearing idiot, but picked up the letter and made a show of opening the letter. He grabbed the piece of paper inside and froze as he sensed the faint touch of magic on it. With a somewhat greater sense of urgency, he pulled out the letter.

Dear Mr. Constantine, started the letter.

I own your soul.

"Ah," said John. "Bollocks."