The air was cold as it was brisk, it chilled John's fingers as he lit a cigarette an in vexation. He walked swiftly and firmly, ignoring the kid's broad monologue as he crossed the evening traffic, Chas trailing persistently after. It had only been after Midnite's affirmination that John realised how impractical his theory had been. The mere fact that Chas had been able to pass through his wards and doorway inscription, initially and finally unconscious, was prove that the boy was not possessed. Merely deluded .The fact that John had been knocked off his feet by the vast amount of vodka he had drunk, had been another confirmation of his impaired judgement, the knowledge that he had panicked in his own delirium- he was ignoring. Constantine did not wait for the kid; his strides became longer and harder, his pace quickening, threading like silk through the gathering night crowds. He was aware that his dishevelled appearance was less threatening than per acceptable, thus drawing looks of the masses, he could spot the pickpockets, the hookers and the violent ones spoiling for an easy fight. He blew an easy breath of smoke. He knew with his admittedly thin ranked body lacking the aid of his trench coat, gave the visage of an scrawny target. He walked smoothly past the cop posing as a gangster, blowing a lingering stream of smoke. It was the nightlife of Los Angeles with the buzz of the hustle and business underneath city lights, the darkness of flashing entertainment and casinos, traitorous women and booze. It was crime and discretion. Death, laughter and dark alleyways. It was a hotspot for the paranormal. John eyed the half- breed angel, homeless with a cardboard plea on the streets beside him, with a sneer. Another ,business suit walking casually with a pretentious smile and spreading wings of shadow. Too obvious, too secure in their control to mingle with the reckless humans, it was the demons that slinked unnoticed.
Midnite's may have rules but they were also protection. In the streets; it was fair game. It was 'they' that John watched through dark lashes, with every dark flutter of cloth and every stride, they were watching. The chill had swept into his thin layer of shirt and pricked the skin of John's chest, or was it the apprehension. He inhaled the warm smoke. With the kid shooting of his name like no tomorrow, he knew it would be only a matter of time before one of these being's approached them. John sucked another sweet mouthful of nicotine and smoke, it would be a pleasant distraction.
'-wanna know about the congregation. It exist's right? There's rumours that Midnite is the congregation, or was it Areil. John- ' Chas was spewing questions as he practically ran alongside John, half apologising to passerby's and integrating John of a colt that no longer existed. Where had he parked that damn car? '-amulet, John? I've read it, I know that it-' Ah, there. John twisted on his foot , knuckleduster in his fist flying as he turned towards Chas. Chas eyes widened, and John watched his motion in the reflection of impossible brown eyes.
The demon's face yielded to the greater force, stumbling a few feet away. Chas blinked in disbelieve, than swirled at sound of harsh breathing behind him. If he was smart he would back away. Constantine had an entire amount of frustration and aggression, that smoking just wasn't cutting. Chas steeped slowly back as the half-breed raised his head, the black iris intensifying in its depth. 'Constantine' it snarled. John narrowed his eyes, yet his actions never hesitated, sharp and precise as he under cut a punch at his jaw, hit the kidney- the half breed fell. A few people stood in a half-circle, typical, as if uncertain upon whether to intervene or whether to leave the visibly pissed Constantine be. He lost his cigarette. The demon was on the concrete floor, still and observant –bloody. And oddly not getting up, his black iris had retreated to a startlingly blue as they fixed on Constantine's dark eyes. An unreadable expression, devoid of the customary hatred that accompanied fallen demons at John's. He had forgotten his bible, John cursed, deporting this demon later would be a hassle. Constantine's fists were curled, a few specks of blood on his collar but otherwise unbruised and tense in unbridled energy. A few seconds of release was not enough. 'Who's the toddler?' the half-breed questioned after a few seconds of Constantine's optimistic silence. Chas drew a startled breathe, clearly uncertain of the attention of a half-breed that tried to snatch him. Constantine pocketed the knuckleduster. He was hardly sated but he acknowledge that drawing attention on the now was hardly street wise. The vampire druggy at the corner of the street, eyeing the procedure was also an known informant-with Chas hanging on his shoulder. It would be unnecessarily foolish to draw further attention. He seized Chas's compliant arm, ignoring the inquisitive questions and dragged him to the last stretch to the car. Losing them in the crowds with ease and expertise, ah-there it was.
'-didn't see. Oh my god, John. My cab...my car,' Chas jogged to the cab that was parked- half on the curb and half into the street. There were cars driving perilously close due to high speeds and lack of space, threatening to clip the rear-again. Chas's hands knotted, searching and examining the paint, opening the hood. John reached for another cigarette and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The crowds becoming a blur in the distance, the noise fading with a puff of smoke. There was a reason why he knew Chas and that he walked between jobs, and it wasn't due to lack of funds. John neither had the patience nor the temperament necessary to learn to drive nor wait in traffic queues. He lost his temper -or what little he had. John opened the door and slid into the passenger's seat, ignoring the duffet bag beside him and waited indulgently for Chas to stop circling the damn car. The car had reached a comforting atmosphere of smoke before Chas had opened the door and slammed it shut, his lips perched on frustration and grieve. John recognised the signs of a rant and silently weighed the options of walking against the worth of an approaching headache.
'John, you killed my car. Do you know that, you killed her!' John shifted back into a more comfortable position, his head lolled back and he took another drag of smoke. 'You dented the trunk and how the hell did you break the tail lights. It's illegal to drive without taillights, John' even saying so Chas slid the gearbox into first gear. 'Why would you do that? Wh-why would you intentionally-' Chas's eyes sought his in the rear mirror, through that may be due to fact that John had misfortunately knocked the right-hand side mirror.
'Because...'John stated.
'Because?' Chas demanded. Well because, despite Chas's own reservation. John could hardly drag an unconscious kid on the streets of Los Anegles, at least not in broad daylight. Neither did he have an option of calling another cab, again, with an unconscious kid over his shoulder. So John had taken Chas's cab; that and he frankly did not care if it was an inconnivance to the kid. He shouldn't have been possessed, or unconscious at the least or so damn heavy on that matter. John took another drag and disregarded the proceeding complaints, it was only after Chas had fallen into a seething quiet that John gave him the address, in which time they had been three-quarters the way to John's flat. Then settled down and pulled another cigarette, breathing the numbing effect as they speed through the streets with Chas's complaints echoing again in his ear.
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Constantine had finished his third cigarette, testament of how he bluntly did not want to be here. 'John, was it-did you say Beverly Wilshire?' Constantine nodded, before he stepped out the car, Chas followed, hesitant and compliant in uncertainty. John ignored the question posed in darting brown eyes and motioned for Chas before striding into the building with a new cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't light it. The reception reeked of expense, polished wooden floors and exotic plants that was housed in delicate vases. The pillars was decorated in sculpted designs that were far to detailed to discern from a distance and light shone airily in the wide hallway- unto a smiling receptionist that looked expectantly at them.
'How my I-'
'Destined for the coffin nail' Constantine interrupted and continued to walk towards the lift. Chas steadily keeping pace beside him, through he observed how the receptionist eyes glazed, before turning away as is he had not noticed a scruffy teenager and a dishevelled man with a daunting expression, cross the pristine floors. The lift revealed a bell boy that Constantine smoothly disposed of by shoving the guy out. Chas grinned; sometimes it was awesome, sticking with John. The lift itself was insane as the reception area, every bit curved and delicately designed with even a sitting area. Chas grinned at his reflection in the mirror, tugging his unruly hair, feeling a bit foolish without his recognizable hat in this unfamiliar territory. John pressed the highest suite and rolled his cigarette between his fingers. Surprisingly, it was he that broke the calm that fell.
'What do you know of witches?' Chas's head snapped round with disbelieve clear in his eyes. John didn't enquire; he never questioned Chas's state of knowledge or opinion, or Chas's well-being or just anything. John just didn't do that. His rate of answers was in a similar outline, only reduced to mono-syllable replies or indiscernible sentences that Chas learnt- he wasn't supposed to comprehend. With but a drop of word that Chas would recognise thus research furiously, to find that Constantine had exclusively finished with that case and moved on to another. It was John's impatient, expectant silence that forced Chas to respond.
'Uh-huh. Well, I know that they are able to summon sprits, cast spells...familiars? Evil eye, black masses-it was a time in which God had not left these lands and so numerous pagan faiths spread. Their calendar revolves around the Sabbaths, the four greatest ceremonies of worship, is with the crops. They worship animals with horns, bulls, stags or goats, which they like to sacrifice-known as the 'sacred kings'.Ummm-It states in the bible 'Thou shall not suffer a witch to live'and-and'- Constantine held out his hand, halting Chas's narration in mid flow.
'There is only one thing you need to know. How to kill a witch if you need to.' Constantine looked over his shoulder 'And only if you need to. You don't want to stick around if you fail' Constantine leaned against the mirror, grimly watched the floor numbers fly above the elevators door. 'Witches are still human, so they are still capable to repent in the unlikelyhood ,should they die. They are vessels, transition points that demons, full-fledged demons strike bargains with in this plane. You want to curse someone, you go to a witch. You want see dead loved one, you bring something they want-a basic quo status...' Constantine fell silently, then glanced at Chas's reflection 'To become a witch, you need to sacrifice one that shares your blood. Cousin, mother, father –in most cases it is the unborn children in their womb. The sinless, the better and if the person was been blessed with a righteous life, the more powerful the demons that gather. They will always have a mark, particular to which ever level demon marks them. Dependant on the circle in hell that demon raoms, will determine how long they will stay on Earth. They may be prohibited to heaven but in hell, they're no chew toy ' The elevator rang open and Constantine watched Chas reflection critically. 'Natasha has lived for a very long time' Chas blinked at the implications of that sentence ,John was already striding down the corridor before Chas's brain caught up- they were going to see a witch?
'That's blasmaphy John' Chas muttered in desperation, his voice stressed and out of breath 'You can't actually-' Constantine ruthlessly shoved the other against the wall, his hand gripped Chas' neck securely but not as harshly as he would have expected. The thud echoed into the silence of the hallway, until finally Chas's blinked open his eyes- he had assumed he would be punched, at least once. Truthfully, Chas had never seen John so strung and taunt, aggression that might have been tempered by the decline in health, was now raw, opened and crimsoned with recent events. Events that Chas knew would be tempered in John's soul- John had cared deeply for Beeman, Angelica in particular. Yet John didn't grieve, he suppressed it, drowned it, camouflaged it with indifference to the extent that he believed that he was apathetic. With the continually loss of friends, lovers and comrades in his line of business. It gave way to alleyway of frustration, anger and the physical need for violence, bloodshed and battle.
'Chas,' Constantine breathed in his ear 'I appreciate that death is very daunting, but I don't need a coward. If you do not stop with this preaching bullshit, I suggest you reconsider your career options- one, where perhaps you'll live longer.' Constantine released his grip and stepped away 'If you quote one more verse from the bible, call judgement upon my decisions, I will not hesitate to leave you.' He left before Chas could open his mouth; Chas tugged his jacket down and followed the other sullenly. He wondered what else had got John irritable. He found out when a little boy opened the suite door and he led them to his 'mistress'.
Constantine barely dodged the flying something as it shattered against the wall, a green smoke wisped out eerily. 'You-' she practically screeched, Chas who had been previously distracted, by what he was certain was a elm's soul, turned to the sight the avid red head... amongst the immense clatter. The room was a mess of secrets, of treasure of unknown, Chas's fingers twitched impulsively at the scrolls that appeared to have survived the middle ages- amulets, crystals, bags of unknown sources that enticed. Colours and shadows that blended with candle lights and the modern artificial light upon mystic substances. Objects and dark instruments scattered carelessly upon the rich mahogany furniture with flattering strips of cloth, rags of rich patterns-Arabian Chas noted- pots that glimmered with ingredients of different shape, powered, bone and preserved creatures, lined upon the walls. Human skulls crumbled, that stared endlessly into a clear balls of flame hazily casting shadows into its depths. A spider scurried over dice, shells and puppets that screeched silently frozen. And it was with a fluster of sparkling jewels and crimson silk that climbed her waist suggestively around her ample assets, Chas gawped at the 'witch'.
Her scarlet hair was coiled tightly and tumbled upon her chest, as her clothes seemed inadequate, high cheeked bone with a sneering blushing lips and rapidly reddened cheeks. 'The great John Constantine! ' she mocked, another object went sailing. Chas watched the fragile porcine collapse like a stolen breath...it seemed Chas missed a vital part of the conversation- 'You fool! You dare trespass into my lair. You dare...' the pitch of her voice abruptly dipped low into a hiss, something more frightening than her previously deafening anger. A deadly wrath, like an venom snake poised to attack, her gold bracelets chinked ominously.
'Natasha, please' Constantine murmured, his head dipped as he rolled his unlit cigarette between his thumb and fore finger. It was a response that did not favour the reaction, the witch's fingers twitched worryingly, her eyes crackled with fury. Chas raised his hands and backed away slowly, maybe if he got to the front door he would remain unharmed. See? Insignificant, hardly worth the effort-back away now... unfortunately ,it seemed the John had not got Chas sick leave, for he approached the furious witch, much like he approached an average citizen, without caution. Constantine stood unfazed in front of the witch ignoring Chas's almost desperate signals from the corner of his eye, as his eyes trailed her littered table to finally rest on the upright owner. 'I'm here in business not pleasure,' Chas had thankfully stopped attempting to flee at his words, it would be a hassle to run after the kid not to mention dangerous at this point. Natasha had paused in her tirade, something John found pleasant. He could glimpse the curiosity and dubious conviction, that peeked from her painted veil eyes.'...business 'he reinforced, through she narrowed her eyes at him with a hefty amount of suspicion.
'And why should I believe you.' She hissed...yes-it did become personal after killing one's sisters, John acknowledged. Any other witch would have trapped him in a match box and set fire to it, as soon as he set foot in the hotel. It was for that reason that John had chosen her and not another of her coven, that and he knew she would give with her business sense. 'I know you John-what do you want?' and he knew that while she may brew and boil, with every insult and inconsistency he would turn, she would never betray him. The Witch of Nordlingen, ill-fated to forever give but never receive. And John could never give. Damn, was he itching for his cigarette. John's eyes flickered back to the table, Natasha understood-else she sensed it for she cleared her table with a sweep of her arm across the table. 'What businesses have you come to deal in' she questioned, still dangerous, John noted to himself as she signalled her familiar forward. John seated himself uneasily on the distinctively feminine chair. 'I know with your prescription, ecstasy will only decline your already dwindling health' Constantine shifted irked, it appeared that every inhuman to demon knew of his 'health'. It was also a known fact that witches were the ones with grapevines in hell; they spread the gossip on top but it was the knowledge that cost.
'No. I've come for...supplies' he amended. Natasha's eyes flickered with unholy glee before the emotion disappeared under indifference, ah-so she did not know of Beeman's death. But why would she, Beeman had been a private trader and John had been his only client. John rubbed the emerging headache; he had wondered when that hangover bliss would materialize. But she knew that John had other friends, one that had evidently supplied than died. He hated when that happened. Constantine's looked over his shoulder and sighed, Chas was backed soundly against the wall, focused on an object that Constantine knew was lethal.
'And he?' John's straightened his head, Natasha had a prospective look upon her. One that John knew she ran over unwary, gullible purchaser.
'He's with me' he stated, his voice unintentionally deepening-John cleared his throat hastily.
'Oh...?' but her attention was already drawn as the little blond boy set a intricate vase upon the table, he had already tided his mistress's trinkets which she had flung on the floor. Natasha smiled, curling her fingers upon a blond lock 'Beautiful, isn't he?' turning to John, he merely lifted an eyebrow. The boy stood, unnaturally calm for the age he appeared. 'The child was beautiful , so very trusting, more trusting than any child of my time...' the implication was clear ...how close she was in taking the child. And she would have, such was her nature. Her laughter ghosted her lips, smiling at the hard foreboden lint in John's eyes. 'Now, enough of this. Have you come for your fortune,' her fingers sprinkled the light blue powder into the basin, it dissolved into a green solution as it hit the clear water, fizzing 'Come John, let me unveil your future' her finger coaxed him closer, smiling enticingly.
John rolled his cigarette between his fingers 'Just supplies Natasha' He had no wish to be told what he already knew. No more than was he willing to be a hooked into a fate under Natasha's fingers, than he was for Lucifer. She pouted and looked hopefully over his shoulder 'Natasha' John drew her attention before she could fasten upon Chas. But the little boy had already drawn Chas to the table, he stood awkwardly behind John with a dazed look upon his face. It was great to know that the kid's hormones hadn't altered as much as his owner. 'I've come for a few ingredients, I'm willing to buy if you're willing to sell' John stood swiftly and gripped Chas's collar to still his approach, the last thing he need was the kid to get curious and look into the watery depths. Natasha bit her lips enticingly through her eyes never left John's, John tightened his fist in warning when he felt the boy responding. 'Just a few supplies'
misaria: Slash?-depends,any suggestions?