CHAPTER IV: I Remember
The scene had been roped off. There was the flashing lights of red and blue, the sound of cops speaking on their radios.
The house sat empty, it looked far too dark for comfort.
The grieving parents could be heard beneath the engine of the ambulance that they stood by.
The neighbors were all gathered in their yards, shocked and bewildered by what had happened, what they had seen, what they had heard.
The two priests stepped off from the porch, slowly making their way to the parents to speak with them. There were blood spats on their faces, and bloody crucifixes in their hands.
"Angela?" she thought she heard a voice.
"Angela?" there it went again, though it hadn't quite brought her out of the dark images that plagued her.
"Angie? Angie?"
Finally she turned around, seeing Detective Weiss looking at her with dismay, his arm no longer placed in a sling as it was some time ago.
"Weiss…" she uttered back.
"Angie, what the hell is happening here?"
"I wish I knew." she confessed.
"What's wrong with this damn city? Bad enough we've had five cases of adult deaths; now we're having little children too?" He was so raged, so angered.
"It's demons," Angela replied, "there's still a lot of them around, apparently."
"What do you mean, still?"
"It's just what Constantine told me yesterday. I bumped into him at the church."
They were both sitting in Weiss's car now, driving back to the L.A.P.D. headquarters.
"Angie…" Weiss said at last. She could feel a combination of tension and worry in his voice.
"Yes?" she asked, almost certain that what he was about to say would be unwelcome to her ears.
"I've been talking to the chief detective, and we both think you're overworking yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Angela, I can see it in your face, hear it in your voice…you're tired."
"Weiss, what the hell are you getting at here?"
"Don't get upset, I'm just worried about you as a partner and a friend. I think you need to work on some different cases…cases that don't involve paranormal activity, or bring up the name Constantine."
Angela could feel the heat dropping from her face, the cold overwhelming her body.
"I know what you're thinking;" she began, "that I'm still upset about John."
"Angela, I know you had feelings for that man. You haven't been completely there since you decided to branch off from him."
"We never really had anything to begin with." she replied, becomming more bitter with the thought of John by the moment.
"And maybe that's why you need to get your mind off from this guy."
"Sometimes I can't help but feel like you, and even Father Garret are trying to protect me from some bad boy. I'm a grown woman who can make her own decisions, and it just so happens that none of my decisions include John Constantine."
"Well, I just don't want you to get so upset by something that it disrupts your whole life. I mean well."
"I guess you do." she said quietly.
"We're cops, Angela…we have a mission to protect the innocent by solving cases. And neither of us can afford to let something distract us."
She didn't reply. She only sat quietly as they continued to drive.
Katherine must have been wandering through the downtown streets like a blind woman for over an hour now, trying to figure out where this club could be.
She had asked several people, but no one seemed to know, or have the time to remember.
"I'm getting nowhere with this." she sighed, almost throwing herself against the corner's brick wall. She felt alone, but there were plenty of people walking on the sidewalks in front of her; and she just stood there for a while watching them pass by as she rested in between two buildings that were separated by a street leading into a darker area.
"Hey, hey are you lost?" the voice almost startled her because she was so drowned inside of her own mind.
"Me?" Katherine asked, turning around to see a young woman about her age approaching.
She had a devious grin, a grin that made Katherine feel a little sick, and the way her hazel eyes glared into Katherine's made her feel like the woman was digging into her very soul.
She wore a skimpy outfit and she had her long brown hair hanging down all over her, and she must have noticed how Katherine was dressed, because why else would she ask this next question?
"You must be looking for a club, am I right?"
"Well actually," Katherine hesitated a little, "I am. A club owned by someone named Midnite, I think?"
"I know that place like the back of my hand. Let me take you."
Katherine couldn't help feeling suspicious, though she tried to hide it. It just seemed a little strange how this woman was so eager to find her, and so willing to escort her, but she pushed her paranoia aside. She didn't think there was any other choice but to let this stranger take her to her destination.
"Alright." she gave in to the strange brunette.
They walked on, slowly leaving the light of the downtown shopping district and pacing through the darker, more lonely streets.
"I'm Ellie, what's your name?"
Katherine finally decided to answer, after releasing her gaze from the hobo pushing the buggy, and the two street freaks sitting on a stoop literally stripping off as they made violent love.
"I'm Katherine Ryan." she said, her eyes still wandering around this dark side of the streets that she felt so out of place in.
The further they walked, the more Katherine wanted to forget the whole thing and go home.
"No wonder he said to be careful…" she said quietly, remembering what Garret had said.
"What was that?" Ellie asked.
"Oh," Katherine faked a smile, "nothing... just thinking out loud."
"Oh…so, you new around here? You're certainly not a…."
Katherine eyed her, wondering what it was that she wasn't.
"…never mind." Ellie cut her own sentence off before even finishing it.
"Were you about to say something?" Katherine asked.
"No. It's just not everyday you see someone like you around here."
She pondered on what Ellie meant exactly, but she didn't really want to ask. She was far too nervous as it was.
"That's the club up ahead, but it's unlikely you'll get in."
"What do you mean? Do I have to be a member?"
The two women stood some good distance from the entrance before continuing their walk, studying the small group of society outcasts that seemed to mingle outside of the place.
"Well, sort of. The bouncer will hold up a tarot card, and you'll have to guess what's on the other side." Ellie replied.
"Oh god, I could never do that…I'm not familiar at all with tarot cards. Why do you have to guess what's on a tarot card anyway?"
"Well maybe I can help, but why is a girl like you trying to get into Midnite's club?" Now she was the one giving Katherine the suspicious glare, and she had no intention of explaining to a human outsider why they had to guess what was on a tarot card.
"I'm just looking for someone to talk to about a personal problem." the nervous blonde responded.
"That was a clever reply, wasn't it?" Katherine wondered.
"Who?"
Now came the next question from Ellie, who?
"An exorcist. I wanted to discuss a paranormal investigation."
"Is this someone, by any chance, oh say, John Constantine?" there seemed to be a malicious hiss in her voice when she said his name.
"Yes."
"I know him. Use to be a lover of mine…the jerk. Come on, I'll help you get into the club."
There was that little nagging thought in the back of Katherine's mind that made her wonder if this woman meant her harm…maybe it was just her essence, maybe it was just this whole place.
As she followed Ellie down the stairs to where the bouncer waited, a sick feeling suddenly came over her, and it was strong. It made her feel like a little girl that had strayed from her parents and somehow ended up in a place where criminals dwelled.
"She's with me." Ellie stated.
"She ain't a half breed." said the oaf.
"I'm not a what?" Katherine asked, looking at them strangely.
"Nothing." Ellie told her. She leaned forward, grabbing the bouncer by the collar of his shirt and pulling him close. "Let her in, or I'll make trouble…you know I'll do it, Adam."
"…Fine…" he growled, holding up a card.
"Two ducks in a pond." Ellie said, almost flirtatiously as she walked in, now leading Katherine by the arm.
"Well, you're in." the brunette smirked.
"Thanks." Katherine said.
"No prob." And Ellie left her, though it felt like her glare was still upon Katherine…as was every other half breed who saw her step in.
Maybe it would have been smarter if she had just asked Ellie where John lived, though she didn't really want to deal with the shady woman any more than she had to.
Katherine paced through the large room, her eyes read: nervous, lost, afraid.
She was constantly keeping an eye on every stranger that she walked by, all of them eyeing her as if they were deciding when to strike. It made her want to throw up, this whole place, it just made her feel that way.
She tried not to let her legs shake beneath her, and she thought that if she could just keep moving around, no one would notice.
Her eyes continued to search almost hopelessly. She didn't know what John Constantine looked like, all she knew was his name, and strangely that name seemed a little familiar to her, though she didn't know why.
"Excuse me…" she finally asked the bartender.
"What?" he sneered.
"I'm kind of lost."
Her eyes wandered upon the man, taking in every detail of his deformities. His long, clawed fingers frightened her.
"It's a club…" his reply seemed to jerk her from the unintentional staring.
"No, I know where I am. See, I'm looking for a man named John Constantine."
"He ain't here that I know of. Check back some other time."
"Does he come here frequently?"
"Yeah, lately he has."
"Okay."
"So that's it, I'm just up crap creek." She turned around, planning to leave, but her face hit the back of a man's coat, causing him to spill his drink.
"What the hell?" he turned around to look at the woman behind him.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry." she stated, seeing that he had gotten some wine on his white shirt.
"Why don't you watch the hell where you're walking?" He spoke harshly towards her.
She glanced up at him, and both of their eyes met…it was awkward, and there was something about this man that was strange, different somehow. And he looked at her as if she was some fool who didn't belong here; and he was right because she didn't.
"I should be going…" she gathered herself, and slowly stepped around him.
The man sat himself on a barstool, still ranting about how stupid she was for bumping into him and making him spill red wine on his nice shirt.
"Hey," he glanced at the bartender, "You got something I can get this off with? Some stupid blonde caused me to ruin my shirt."
"That stupid blonde was asking for ya."
"What?"
"Don't ask me, she just asked for a John Constantine."
John sighed, reaching for his wine glass and shrugging his shoulders.
In the blink of an eye, the lights went off in the club, and Katherine found herself confused, still trying to blindly make her way through the tight crowd of moving figures.
Then flashes of blue, green and then blue again kept blinking on and off and the music started playing faster and faster, and pounding harder and harder.
Katherine was scared. She kept trying to escape the suffocation of the dancers, feeling fingers, or were they claws? Pulling and tugging at her, they were touching her, grabbing her, pulling her in and she struggled against them with no success.
"Let go!" she demanded, still fighting for an escape path. "Let go!"
They kept tugging her, and she could have sworn she saw Ellie's eyes upon her somewhere in the back, and they were flaming.
Were those fangs she saw in that man's mouth, the one who had touched her bottom, grasping it in his palm before she pulled away?
Were those claws she felt grasping her long golden hair and her fitted black dress?
Something grabbed her from behind, another male. He wrapped himself around her tightly in the flashes of blue and green, and he breathed hot breath down her neck as she fought to escape him.
Then two more males and a few females began to approach her from the front. Were they going to eat her? Tear into her like a beast of the ravenous nature?
She slipped away, but still found herself trapped within these people, these evil people who now seemed more interested in harming her than they were dancing.
"Get away from me! Get away from me!" she wondered if she'd survive the night.
Then she was grabbed once again by the wrist. She couldn't see who it was, but they looked dark from behind, and they seemed to want to lead her out of the club, into the street, perhaps to devoir her.
When they had escaped the place, it's flashy lights and pounding music, she was somehow relieved to see that man again, that man that she had bumped into at the bar; but now the question remained; what was he planning to do with her?
He continued to walk her down the street, and she felt like she was being dragged along, and he took her somewhere far down, away from everything and everyone and they stopped. What was to happen next? Was he going to punish her for causing him to stain his shirt? She couldn't help eye balling the stain, that big red stain, and then him.
He looked intimidating to her, and he sent a chill down her spine that made her afraid of him; and somehow she still managed to notice that, despite the cold glare in his eyes, he was by no doubt an attractive man.
"Alright," he said, letting go of her and watching as she nearly stumbled in her high heels, "What is it you want?"
"What?" she looked puzzled, and so he decided to explain to her what he meant.
"You were asking for me…the bartender told me so." He reached in his coat for something, it appeared to be candy…no, it was gum.
She was dumbfounded momentarily, and then she remembered that other than nearly being attacked, she had gone there searching for someone.
"Oh, oh yes…yes, I was looking for a Constantine."
She seemed to be holding her head as if it ached her, and then she found her eyes set upon him once more, that same confused stare still settled within her.
"You're Constantine?" there seemed to be a little disbelief there, maybe some embarrassment.
"Yeah that's me, the guy who's shirt you ruined." He loved bringing that up.
"I'll be glad to buy you another one." she stated.
"I may have to let you." That got away with her. Most people would say forget about it, but not this man.
"Why were you in that club? Do you have any ideal how close you came to being prey for a bunch of… monsters?"
"It's the only place that I was told to find you."
"Who told you?"
"A Father Garret?"
He seemed to be unnerved by this.
"You mean he told you to look there, Of all places?"
"He said he didn't think you'd want him to give out your number, and he didn't seem to know your address either."
"That moron knows where I live…damn sorry….sending some stupid girl to a place like that…" he growled.
"Hey look buster, I'm not stupid, okay? I wanted to talk to you about paranormal investigations."
"Why?"
"Do you think we can talk somewhere else? Like somewhere that's not so shady?" she shivered.
John sighed, looking at her with hesitation.
"Alright. Come on." he said at last.
"Where are we going?" she demanded.
"My place."
"His place? Why his place?"
"How about my place?" she asked, but he ignored her.
He led her up the steps, they had already gone through the empty bowling alley.
She found the place eerie, un-homely, cold and somehow, unwelcoming.
The sound of him fitting and twisting the keys into the lock snatched her attention away from eyeing everything around her.
She followed him in, noticing the etching in the door's framing that said: always a catch. And to that saying, she agreed.
Within seconds, she was inside the place, taking it all in and staying close to the door as she watched him wander to the table, leaning his lower back against it's edge, eyeing her and making her uncomfortable with his glare, his care not glare.
"So," he started, almost shrugging. "How'd you manage to get in that place to begin with?"
This question seemed to be of importance to him.
"A woman helped me. She actually seemed to know you, said her name was…" she couldn't remember, how did she forget, oh, there it was: "Ellie."
"Ellie? She isn't trustworthy…I wonder why she was so interested in helping you. Must have something to do with the fact you wanted to see me."
He went searching through the cabinets, pulling out a large bottle of liquor and bringing out a couple of glasses, setting it all on the table and pouring.
"Drink?" he asked her, giving her a lifted brow.
She shook her head, remaining against the door like a frightened deer, her mouth hanging slightly open.
She watched him pull out a chair and seat himself.
"You can come sit down if you want, I don't bite."
But she wondered; everyone else seemed to.
Katherine managed her way to the table where she sat herself across from him, this man who kept his eye upon her even through whiskey sips.
"What do you want?" he asked after sitting the glass back down. "Make it quick."
"…I…I…" she stuttered nervously, as if she were trying to pull herself from some dumb trance, everything that had happened still felt like a bad dream. Things like this just didn't happen to her.
"I…I'm a journalist and…and I'm looking for a story on the recent events concerning exorcisms."
She sounded so stupid to herself, how unprofessional, and then he had to make it worse by looking at her with an almost mocking smirk, as if some laugh could have slipped out of him; him sitting there with that attitude painted on his face, his glass in his hand.
"A story?" he said, looking at her. "Well, I never had a journalist come to me looking for a story."
"I just want you to tell me about the things you've been experiencing, in your work…Mr. Constantine, I couldn't get anything out of the church and, I need this story; it's the only hope I have for ensuring a steady career so I can take care of my dad and me."
"Did I just do that? Did I just partly spill my heart out to this arrogant man?" she pondered.
"Hmmm…" he was glancing off from her now, running his finger around the rim of his whiskey glass, still wearing that stained shirt beneath his tie, his coat now removed from him.
He seemed to be amusing himself, trying to conjure something in his mind. Then suddenly he glanced back at her, laying his hand on the table.
"So what's in it for me?"
She opened her mouth, hanging it open and waiting for something to come out.
"…Well," she spoke after hesitating, "what do you want?" she was a little curious.
"What do you have to offer?" He seemed impossible.
"I guess…" she rounded her eyes about the ceiling, and then back towards him. "Money, lunch? A new shirt?" she glanced at the stain, and his eyes wandered down upon it too. "But I'm not rich, I don't have much…"
He shrugged a little in his seat; and it displeased her to find his eyes briefly glaring at her chest, and then back at her.
She stood up from the table.
"You know, I'm sorry I've wasted my time here." she said.
"I can't give you a story." he said, sipping once more from his glass, his face looked unshaved somewhat, a little stubble there. "You've really wasted my time."
"Your time?" she lifted a brow, looking at this man before her who seemed like he just didn't care, didn't care for anything or anyone.
He jumped; she had slammed her hands on the table, and now it was her returning to him that cold glare.
John lifted a brow to this young woman.
"You must think you've done me some sort of favor? And you must be so full of yourself and that liquor right now until you think I'm just your average little air headed slut looking for attention and hand outs. Well I'm getting sick and tired Mr. Constantine, sick and tired of men like you looking at me indecently, ignoring me, just because you think I'm some poor little thing who needs to quit trying to be smart and just go get me a job in a strip joint; I know how you men think of nice looking women, and it's not going to happen because I intend to follow my goals and succeed!"
She inhaled. All that she had said, the way she spoke it and the way he looked at her, it made her breathless and she felt shaky.
There was silence, and then John got tired of the staring and decided to break that silence.
"Are you done?" he finally asked. That was it, that was all he had to say?
The young woman didn't reply, she just grabbed her purse and stormed out the door, stomping down the empty hallway.
Though, to his surprise, she bursted back inside within a matter of seconds.
"Back so soon?" he asked her, curiously.
"I just remembered something. A journalist never gives up until they've got what they came for."
He gave her a sharp, stern look, a look that told her that he didn't want her in his apartment; but she didn't care.
"I don't think you told me your name." he said.
"Katherine Ryan." she replied.
"Funny...that name sounds a little familiar."
"Familiar?" she had a curious look on her face. "You know, I must say that your name sounded a little familiar to me as well."
"Well there's a lot of Johns around, and Katherines too." he stood up.
"Wait here. I need to get a clean shirt." he was starting for the door.
"Don't you have a shirt in here? I can step out of you want."
"My laundry's downstairs in the dryer."
He shut the door behind him, leaving the young woman alone in his dwelling.
Katherine began to walk around, glancing at his bed, the phone on the kitchen wall, the rutty kitchen itself and the lineup of water bottles against the window.
Then it crossed her: this was a good time to use his bathroom while he was out.
The bathroom looked old, tattered and worn. She looked at the sink, the toilet and then at the tub.
There was something about that little rubber ducky, the one placed on the rim of the tub, that had her smiling and she didn't know why. All she knew was that it seemed to draw her to want to pick it up, hold it, feel it.
She gasped, remembering something that she almost forgot so many years ago.
She turned it over, and sure enough, there was her name: Kit.
"My god..." she uttered.
She must have stood there for more than five minutes, just studying the rubber duck, her name, and re-capturing the memories hidden in her mind, putting two and two together as she did.
"What are you doing?" his voice frightened her. He had on a fresh shirt, the same kind as the one before, and he was holding a basket of white towels and shirts and black folded pants.
She turned around, looking at him with the rubber duck in her hand, and now he was stunned.
"You... You're John...I remember now." there was a smile tugging at her lips.
"Kit?" he asked her.
"Yeah." she replied.
"The little girl who lived next door to me. The one I never could run off."
She almost laughed at the memory.
"I was five and you were about fourteen, in and out of that institution almost all the time."
"And you seemed to always know. Always know what I was going through. You knew a lot for a pesky little girl."
"I did, didn't I?" now her voice was almost solemn, as was her expression.
"You use to tell me your mother was an angel."
"I'm afraid I don't recall that." she stated.
"Dreams. You use to have weird dreams." he said.
There was a moment of silence between them, both of them staring at each other, recalling the memories of a year's worth of aquaintance.
"John," she said finally, "Why don't I buy you dinner and maybe you can forgive me for your shirt."
"If you buy me dinner, I may just consider doing that."
They found themselves walking out of the Bowl, Bowl, Bowl, bowling alley and into those dark, dark, dark streets. The air seemed so still, and yet so cold.
TO BE CONTINUED…
