CHAPTER VII: Talk To Me
There was music playing in the background. There were half breeds leaned against the bar, talking, plotting, laughing, drinking…and the remaining sat at the booths, round tables and the others walked about.
Tonight, the room hued an almost pink atmospheric lighting, possibly from the purple neon light rods that hung above the bar; and moving shadows seemed to dance along those little disco mirrored square tiles that made up the wide columns throughout the room each time a half breed walked by them.
It wasn't long though before all of the cheer and partying was silenced when the door in the back had been slammed open and a man stepped out, entering the center of the club, and everyone stopped, now only speaking quickly in hushed whispers, wondering why he had that look on his face, wondering why he had violently thrust himself into the room, looking at them all as if they had committed some crime against him.
His hat shadowed his scrunched brows, and the light seemed to expose the little grey hairs on his goatee rather well, and he carried himself quite good in that long velvet coat with that fitted colorful shirt he wore beneath it. The jewelry on his wrist, the chain hanging from his belt, that strange, symbolic necklace on his neck gleamed like little dashes of gold and silver, though it was hard to make out for sure what his jewelry was made of to be exact, judging by the lighting of course…
His eyes wavered about, glaring coldly upon each half breed he saw around him. None of them seemed brave enough to question him, or anger him for that matter, and as he gazed at them one by one, he gritted his teeth and clutched his fist.
Then they saw steam, steam ceasing out from the tight clutch of each of his fists, the veins in his neck seemed to be bulging out, almost like snakes embedded within his flesh.
"Who is it!" His voice was like the roar of a lion, an angry, threatened lion.
"WHO IS IT!" This time it was harder, deeper, louder. The half breeds remained silent, and their expressions read: confusion.
"Tell me? What the fuck is going on here?" He demanded once more. "Huh?!"
The room still retained it's silence, and no one seemed to know what to say, how to react, but they knew better than to walk out.
Then someone else came into the room, someone clad in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, and beside him stood a shorter man, almost hobo like.
"Hello, Midnight…"
Midnite looked this man in the eye, this man who had stepped into his club, witnessing the witch doctor's anger.
"John." he replied.
Everyone remained against the safety of the bar, and now there was an atmosphere similar to what one might see in a ghost town in days of old, with two bandits about to fire their pistols any minute now, either at each other or at the civilians watching them.
"Word is, you were attacked tonight."
"Who told you?" Midnite asked.
"Your ring, and the remains of six dead bodies in the alley on my way here." John said, now holding a shining gold ring between his thumb and index finger.
The exorcist tossed the ring towards the witchdoctor, who quickly snatched it into his hand without even looking at it...No, his eyes were still on John.
"You leave quite a mess behind you, Midnite."
"Do I, John?" now there was a small smirk tugging at the witch doctor's lips as he slipped the ring back onto his finger. He must have been in too much of a haste to notice it was missing before. "And what about the messes you leave behind?"
"You're wasting your time with these half breeds. None of them know anything."
"And what makes you so certain?"
"Their faces…they look pretty innocent for something spawned from that shit hole they call hell." John sneered at the club dwellers on his left.
"Well," Midnite placed his hands upon his hips, pushing his coat behind him as he did so. "Maybe you need to come and talk to me in my office."
"That's what I've been trying to do for a while now; pity you had to witness what you did before you decided to quit putting me off."
"Everyone, continue what you were doing, this didn't happen." Midnite growled as John and Roach followed him into his office.
They might have been dare some enough to play games with John at times, but if one thing was for sure, it was that the half breeds very seldom found the guts to trifle with Midnite.
The office room felt warm, uncomfortably warm.
And when the door was shut behind them, the noise of the club was too; though it had been rather quiet since Midnite's outbreak.
The two men sat opposite each other, each of their dark eyes sizing the other up across the desk. Roach remained seated near John.
"Talk to me." Midnite said, placing a fresh cigar into his mouth and lighting it.
"Demons Midnite, they're lose all over Los Angeles…you've heard about the recurring deaths of possessed victims. And I'm thinking that they're using dead bodies to play their little games in too now."
"Yes John. Now tell me how this all started, when you became aware of it."
"No more than a few days ago. Father Garret asked me to go to a house where a little boy was demonically invaded. Come to find out, it was a soldier demon, and so I disposed of it. The kid spoke of a secret hiding place of the demon's; an old well hidden inside a barn…there was a pentagram drawn around the hatch, and I soon found out from the kid's brother in-law that the rental house where the barn was, was originally rented by a couple who obviously drabbled in the occult…or so the locals say."
"So a gateway was opened?"
"Yeah."
"Gateways are opened all of the time John…but it doesn't explain the large numbers of demons here in the city."
"No it doesn't…unless someone wants revenge."
"Revenge John? Why revenge?"
"Who knows, maybe Balthazar has crept his way back into the picture."
"I doubt it to be Balthazar. He is long gone from the way I see it."
"You don't have enough proof to doubt anything."
"And you have not enough to blame."
John became angry, angry that Midnite just sat there with a nonchalant I can't do anything attitude. He flung himself up from the seat, and slammed his fists onto the table before the witchdoctor. Roach remained quiet.
"People are fucking dying, Midnite! They're getting killed left and right! I saw them tote out the remains of an old lady, another woman, a baby and a little boy just recently from an apartment building! And I couldn't do anything to prevent it because I didn't get there fast enough, and the damn asshole I'm working with now, David Garret, is a damn contradictory hypocrite who doesn't know if he's coming or going and doesn't really want to admit that these things are happening!"
Midnite stared into his face blandly just before releasing that stare and taking his cigar out of his mouth to lay it into the ash tray.
"…So, let me guess; you want to use the chair again so you can put this new puzzle together…am I speaking correctly?"
"I may have to."
"No John. It's too risky."
"I'm aware of the risks, G-dammit! I've used it before."
"That was because you needed to know about the spear. This is a different situation and the answer is no. It's too early, and we know not where we stand…"
"Exactly, that's why you need to give in, Midnite."
"You're making me angry, John. I need you to leave right now."
John just looked at him, not quite knowing how to respond to this.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're trustworthy yourself." And that was all the exorcist said before leaving the office.
"Uh…nice seeing you, Midnite." Roach uttered as he jumped to his feet and followed John out the door.
The witchdoctor remained seated, his fists clutched together on the desk and his expression bland. Then the door slammed shut, and Midnite's face was seen no more that night.
"So what now, John? Who do we go to now?" Roach asked as he and John carried on down the street.
"I don't know."
"What do you fucking mean you don't know? You're supposed to know, you're John Constantine, the man who works in this field!"
"I don't have the answers to every fucking situation…I'm not super man and I sure as hell ain't God."
"I know that. But where do we go now? Who else is there that we can see?"
"No one…"
"Well where we goin'?"
"To a lounge."
"A lounge? What for, John? You could have got a drink back there!"
"I'm not patronizing his club anymore until he learns to cooperate."
"Do you really need more liquor in you, man? I mean, seriously."
"I'm thirsty."
"Then how's about a nice lemonade or tea, or even a milk shake?"
"Liquor helps me think."
"Helps you think? Don't start shittin' me, John. Liquor don't help you think, it makes you whiny and-and morbid."
"Just shut up…you wouldn't have it any better. You like to drink and hook up don't you?"
"Sometimes, but…"
"Then what's the complaining for?" John asked, lifting a brow to him, his deep colored lips half parted in the bright lights of the city.
"Well before you get ticked off at Midnite because he's not ready to take sides again, you might want to consider that he may have a few cards up his sleeves, you know? Maybe he's more on it than you think…"
John didn't comment, and it was no surprise to see both of them walking past some drunken bum in the quieter streets of downtown, pushing through the doors of an old brick building that said: Cantina's Lounge.
The place had a fine line up of old brick walls, a mahogany liquor shelf behind the sleek, shiny bar table; it's leather stools slightly high off the floor with their metal foot rests.
It was quiet, small, somewhat classy…there was Spanish music playing subtly in the background with maybe two couples lingering here and there and a very small group of gangster-looking outcasts at the end of the bar, almost huddled over their drinks.
The bartender was a casual man of the Hispanic type, well dressed and clean cut.
"Nice atmosphere." John seemed to notice as he and Roach sat down at the bar. "Much more welcoming than Midnite's." So it was an opportunity to put Midnite down that seemed to bring out his interest in the place.
"Pretty nice I guess, if you can over look those three blokes down there, as well as afford these prices."
"How do you know the prices? You been here?"
"No, but you know it's expensive, look at this place."
"Good liquor always costs in L.A."
"Hmmm…guess you have to spend that money you make on exorcisms somewhere."
"What did you say?" John demanded, raising his hand and getting ready to slap Roach upside the head.
"Nothing John." He snickered.
"Why don't you keep your filthy mouth shut, and maybe you'll be able to avoid getting hit, you insect."
The bartender approached them, still wiping a wine glass with a white towel.
"Can I get you gentlemen something?" His English sounded rather good with that fluent accent of his.
"…Gentlemen, huh? …Something else you don't find at Midnite's…although I have to tell you that this thing sitting next to me is anything BUT a gentleman." John said with sarcasm, pointing at Roach with his thumb.
The bartender lifted a brow in confusion and Roach burst into a hissing laughter.
"Just bring me a shot of vodka." John requested in a gruff voice.
"I'll…I'll take…I'll take a red wine!" Roach laughed.
"And you'll pay for it." John uttered.
The bartender nodded and walked off to make the drinks.
The thought that he was actually going to have to pay for something seemed to silence Roach's annoying laughs that had everyone's eyes on him.
The bartender took little time bringing them their drinks, and John and Roach took no time at all swigging down the first good gulp.
"John Constantine…what a surprise."
John looked behind him, seeing Ellie dressed in a red dress, her hair hanging down like always with little strands hugging her cheeks.
"Ellie…funny having you follow me here."
"Follow you?"
"No point in denial. Why not sit down? I'll buy you a drink."
"Does this mean you're forgiving me?" she asked with a devious grin as she made herself comfortable beside her ex.
"Of course not. I can't stand you, and I sure as hell don't trust you."
"Then why buy me a drink?"
"Hey bartender, bring this lovely lady here a white wine, you still drink white wine don't you, Ellie?"
"I drink pretty much anything. You sure you wanna buy me a wine, John?"
"Sure I'm sure. So, what's been going on? How are you? How's life been treating you? And what do you know about demons running lose again?"
"I thought you'd ask…nothing John. I know nothing."
"Lies."
"Truth, actually. If I was up to something, I wouldn't even be sitting next to you right now…but I might be waiting outside with a knife." she grinned, somewhat liking the ideal.
"Sounds believable. Though you could still have one hid in your stocking."
"Ooh, you're a naughty boy, John…you really set me on fire." she said with a small red glow in her eyes.
The bartender brought her the requested drink.
"Let's have a toast shall we?" she asked, holding her glass in the air.
"To what?" John wanted to know.
"Forgiveness."
"Half breeds and forgiveness?…Never thought it possible for those two things to mix…it's like caster oil and coffee."
"To us..." Ellie over spoke him.
John shook his head, a slight laugh coming out of him. He gave in, clinging his glass to hers. They both sipped the glasses, their eyes diving deep into each other's souls; or at least that fact would be true if Ellie was to have one.
"So who's the runt?" she asked, referring to Roach who hadn't yet removed his eyes from the sight of her bra that was slightly showing through her dress.
"Don't ask…he's Beeman's brother, Roach. Owns the alley now, haven't been able to get rid of him since."
"Funny, I figured you might have found it in a dumpster somewhere." She said, licking her red painted lips.
"Huh? What? You two talkin' bout' me?" Roach asked, finally regaining awareness that there were other things going on around him that didn't involve a woman's breasts.
Ellie rolled her eyes as she turned to admire the fine paint job on her deep red nails with their small coat of glitter flickering about as she moved them.
"Tell me," John began, "Did you by any chance lead Katherine Ryan into Midnite's club to watch her get devoured?"
"Oh John, how dare you accuse me of such things!"
"Don't screw around with me Ellie, I know how you are."
She tried to hide her smile.
"Oh John," she sighed, caressing his face. "You know I can't stand the thoughts of another woman enchanting you."
John shook his head at her, taking another drink from his glass, turning away from her touch as he did so.
"You're a hard one, John." she smiled.
"And you're a pain in the ass." he replied.
After two hours of lingering pointlessly in the bar and carrying on about nothing in particular, John, Ellie and Roach eventually found themselves back in the street.
John somehow managed to remain sober that night, but Ellie and Roach had their arms thrown sloppily around each other as they staggered, laughed, staggered some more, chuckled, nearly tripped over some uneven pavement, and then began to sing Yankee Doodle as they carelessly walked behind John, who was rather annoyed by their current state.
"Yankee Doodle went to town, a ridin' on his horny…I mean, pony…" Roach laughed between hiccups.
"Stuck a feather up his ass and called it macaroni!" Ellie added, her eyes barely open as she nearly stumbled with Roach as they both continued to somehow laugh and sing all at once.
"I don't recall those being the original lyrics." John said, his hands tucked into his pants pockets; wishing he had brought his coat along.
"Ah, foo on you, ya old sour puss!" Ellie laughed and Roach joined her.
"You should bloody see him when he tries to order take out in a bloody Chinese restaurant…"
"I can imagine...bad enough he dresses like a undertaker."
"Why don't you both shut up before you get yourselves arrested?" John asked.
"Well personally I think he should audition for one of those late night comedy shows!" Ellie snickered. "He's got such a bubbly personality, and a real sense of humor to go with it!"
It seemed John really had his hands full for the night, and he was anxious to get home as soon as possible.
"Never should have offered her to join us for a drink…bad enough being put up with Roach on a daily bases."
TO BE CONTINUED…
