Re: Gotham: Zatanna, Louis, Eddie
The god seemed bemused by the whirring, hovering gun pointed at the sorceress. That could not last, surely? She would think of a way out of it in a moment - melt it to ash, sever the components that made it fly. She was not only made of flesh, after all, but something more - a better prize than the man before him, but not in his reach, not willingly. A pity. It would take its consolation in stride, though. All could still change, with such fractious friends.
It slit the hand it wielded, between the two fingers used for blessing, index and middle. The cut stretched over the base of the palm, ending before the wrist, and it followed a line of scar tissue, from when this had been done to this body before, from when the god had first latched on. Well, its tenant would be glad to see it gone. It would leave a small gift behind. Let it not be said that it was unjust or unkind to servants who performed well under duress. Blood for blood counted in all ways - for the sacrificed, and for those who had done service.
It grasped the hand that reached across the salt circle, mingling blood, and if the body on the other side had been alive, it might have felt a burning, a sensation like falling down deep, like rising, also, the density of one thing separating itself from another, oil and water, as the power of the thing wrapped around Louis' body poured into the corpse. The saint medal hanging from Louis' neck scalded the skin of the scar on his collarbone, hot as a brand, just as it had before.