"Constantine!"
As Constantine bid farewell to Charlie and reached his door, a woman's voice stopped him. Without turning, he quipped, "What's up, lady? Planning to spend this long, lonely night with me? Fair warning, I'm broke."
No surprise, Constantine was the type to sleep with someone and then demand payment—or worse, their life. Most who crossed him didn't fare well.
"Heavy Crimes Unit, Agent Angel Dawson. My badge."
Her words caught him off guard. Pushing open his door, Constantine turned to face Angel.
She sensed a threat from him, gripping her gun—safety still on—while flashing her badge. She'd reviewed the footage of her sister's supposed suicide, hearing Constantine's name from Isabelle's lips.
"Paranormal expert, private detective, occult specialist?" Angel read, pocketing her badge and stepping back to a safe distance.
"Want my card?" Constantine fished a crumpled business card from his shirt, smoothed it, and tossed it. It arced perfectly, catching in Angel's suit collar.
"If your 'occult' is just sleight-of-hand, you'd better afford a good lawyer," she said, suppressing unease, pushing past him into the room.
…
"Bul-Kathos, the angels spilled everything they know. Nothing useful," the Ancient One said softly, sitting on a bench outside the blacksmith shop.
Bul-Kathos nodded, silent. Gil was asleep inside; speaking would wake him. Though he didn't think his voice was loud, he knew it was for ordinary people.
"No signs of Heaven breaching the barrier. Hell's only sneaking in small fry. I don't get what they're up to," the Ancient One said. Since losing her ability to see the timestream, she sought easier ways to handle threats. Warning potential troublemakers was her first step—scare them enough, and no one would dare act out.
Unless they wanted to hear the squeal of a butcher's knife through flesh.
Bul-Kathos sipped his drink, a traffic codebook in hand. "I'll keep watching. If I find a Hell portal, I'll come to you," the Ancient One said, drawing a circle in the air and vanishing.
Bul-Kathos drank, using the codebook as a makeshift companion. Not ideal for grand toasts, but it passed the time.
…
"What's the plan tonight, Matt?" Luke, in his high-tech Star-Lord helmet and suit, walked with Matt Murdock through an unlit alley.
"Scout the area, see which gang crossed the Punisher," Matt replied. His cane was for daylight; at night, an axe hung at his waist.
"That guy and the woman ahead—something off about them?" Luke said, eyeing a man and woman arguing on the empty street. He couldn't hear their words but felt an unsettling aura from the man.
"Sounds like normal chatter—talking about Heaven and Hell," Matt said, expressionless. He sensed the man's strange aura but wouldn't act rashly.
Then his face shifted. A dense buzzing of wings—not feathered, but bat-like—filled the air.
Constantine and Angel looked up as a streetlamp flickered out.
"Just a power outage," Angel said, moving toward her car. But an unseen force locked it from within. Streetlights went dark one by one, as if darkness itself was closing in.
"Matt, that's demonic!" Luke said, eyeing the approaching shadow. Having seen lesser demons in the Secret Realm, he couldn't distinguish this world's from another's but readied for a fight.
"A lot of them, heading for those two. Let's move!" Matt grabbed his axe, and they rushed toward the pair.
The streetlights died rapidly, leaving only a faint glow from a Virgin Mary statue in a shop.
"What's that sound?" Angel's voice trembled. Unfamiliar with such scenes, she drew her gun, safety off, ready to fire. The flapping of fleshy wings was now unmistakable.
"Demons. Your gun's useless," Constantine said, dropping his theatrics, his tone grave.
"Who are those two? A helmeted brute and a tight-suit pervert with an axe and machete?" Constantine's eyes widened at Matt and Luke charging toward them.
"Okay, maybe your gun's useful," he conceded. Neither was a demon or angel, but their armed approach didn't scream friendly.
He pulled the crumpled shroud from his pocket, wrapping it around his hand. As he prepared to tell Angel to shoot, Matt shouted, "Watch out, they're coming! Hurry, the demons are here!"
"Fine, not perverts," Constantine muttered, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He grabbed Angel and moved toward Matt and Luke.
"Been dying to try this!" Luke shouted, shaking his head.
"Face me, Hell's scum!" His roar, though weaker than Bul-Kathos's restrained war cry, carried a barbarian's spirit.
(Chapter End)