"Was this... this what they put in here?" Zatanna asked, looking at the stack of papers.
Constantine nodded. "They set a trap on it. Probably waiting for a moment like this to trigger it."
"Then weren't we searching for nothing?"
"No." Constantine shook his head and said, "If there were no forbidden knowledge in it to begin with, the trap couldn't work. This should be what we were looking for."
"And they weren't worried we'd follow this clue... Oh. In your line of work, clues can be death warrants instead."
"Exactly. Not only are they unafraid of us investigating, they want us to face their god head-on. This is how." Constantine waved the papers in his hand.
"So are you going to read it?"
"I'd have to be insane to read this." Constantine straightened up and took a deep breath. "There must be a great deal of filthy stuff in here. I need to find someone to translate it."
"Who could translate it?" Zatanna asked in shock.
Constantine said nothing more. He returned to his residence and went down to the basement, where a ritual arrangement had been set up.
Constantine placed several items on it and adjusted the ritual setup. He put the manuscript down and murmured, "Crawling Chaos, God of a Thousand Faces, soul and messenger of the Outer God..."
As he chanted, a clicking sound echoed through the room. The candle flames dimmed. Circular stains spread outward from the center of the room, then slowly split in two.
"By your all-knowing knowledge, answer my desire for wisdom—tell me in a way I can understand what is written on these pages. I require only three English words made of letters, and a mask granted by you..."
Slowly, slowly, the paper began to burn. A mysterious fragrance spread through