Gabriel, Or Rather, Gabrielle
The silence between the four men carried on for some time. The people who had gathered out in the hallway had decided the wails and screeching to be nothing of their business - most of the residents here were too sorry to care anyhow - and had returned to their own apartments.
Sean Henderson was an anxious young man. He had attended a Christian Community College, but had lost his scholarship a month after beginning his first semester - being involved with people like Nigel didn't help. He had taken a job in an underground artifact shop afterwards, one of which Midnite often did trades and pawns with. His older sister was the only relative who'd gladly be put up with him - he had grown bitterly distant from his parents.
He was a thick built male, being no more than 5'7" in height and weighing more than 202 in pounds. He wasn't as fond of drugs as his friend but he obviously ate well - mainly when his stomach was nervous - and he was intensely craving something to consume right about now, his weary feet drumming the floor beneath him. You might say that food was Sean's addiction.
The den of that apartment was stuffy and cramped with Sean and Nigel's junk tossed and thrown all over the place. The small coffee table was cluttered with comics, dirty magazines and empty cigarette cartons - not to mention that wonderful collection of liquor bottles that had Nigel's saliva all over the drinking rims.
Adam, like John, was in deep thought, trying his best to put the puzzle together with what few little clues they had - which were none whatsoever.
During his contemplation of agonized deciphering John's eyes were aimed on the floor whilst he rested his arms over his knees, his coat removed and his sleeves rolled up, partially revealing the tattoo markings he boasted. When Sean stood up from the couch and began tracing the room and rummaging through the coffee table, Constantine tuned in to what he was doing.
"What are you looking for?" he asked Sean.
"A paper. An older one." the stout youth replied. He plundered through a small shelf and at brisk length he retrieved something - a newspaper of some sort.
"The L.A. Times?" John questioned, slowly taking the paper from Sean's hand.
"Read it." Sean suggested, sticking his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans - a nervous tick of his.
"Alright." Constantine sighed as he flipped the paper open. As he read, Adam peered over his shoulder scanning the paper as well. "This is about the events at Ravenscar…about them finding Chas Kramer's body and the body of the Hispanic - the bearer of the Spear."
During this time, Nigel was zoned out on the edge of the sofa opposite Adam. It made no difference though, as he was no use to anyone much no how.
"Yea," said Sean, "but keep reading." His shaky finger came pouring over the paper, sliding down and pointing at a paragraph at the bottom.
"Weary civilian was found laying near the pool in the therapy room, grieving and hysterically disordered within herself. She went by Gabrielle but because no one was able to trace any information on her, they booked her in Ravenscar the following day to reside as a patient for the time being." John read. "Gabrielle." He muttered the name bitterly. "So becoming human wasn't enough to bring the asshole to committing suicide. F****** monster. She ought to be behind f****** bars right now, rotting away, not laying up in an Asylum. Damn f****** murderer." he spat, crumpling the newspaper up violently. It was also apparent now that God had cast the Archangel into a female body, thus Gabriel became Gabrielle.
"I know you very seldom read the paper John, so I wanted to show you that while you were around." Sean said.
"Why didn't you give it to me earlier?"
"Look man, you're all over the place. Besides, it slipped my mind. I got a life." Sean stuttered, lamely conjuring up excuses for himself.
"Yea. I noticed." John's eyes glanced the empty bottles strung about the floor. It didn't matter much anyhow if he was late in giving him the paper since these new events were only just beginning.
"Hey, it's not mine! It's all Nigel's shit. You know I'm not big on drugs. The most I can stomach is a cold beer every now and then."
John shot up from his seat on the couch, pressing the newspaper against Sean's chest as he headed for the door, stepping over this and that as he moved. The young man held the paper firmly in his hands, watching John's every step.
"Where you going?" Sean asked.
As the question rung through John's ears, he stopped briefly and looked back upon the two alert weary faces. Trepidation seemed to halt him as he thought on his next move before saying,
"I'm going to try and get to the bottom of this shit. If Gabrielle's still alive, he- I mean, she may have a few answers about what happened to the Nurse that was murdered."
"What if you don't get anything out of him-her?" Sean asked.
"I'll beat it out of her." John said.
Adam stood then and hastened to the door of which John had already stepped out of. As he did, Sean began glancing at Nigel and then towards Rudy - both of which were sleeping heavily - then he spotted John's coat tossed over the sofa, and it wasn't long before he rushed after Pool and Constantine - after grabbing John's coat of course.
"Hey wait!" his voice echoed in the hallway. "Hey John, wait up! You forgot your coat!"
John wasn't stopping, his feet were carrying him quickly down several flights of stairs; but Adam paused long enough for Sean to catch up to him at least and the young man gave him a weak half-grin before introducing himself.
"I'm Sean Henderson." he said, offering for the old Bloke to shake his hand.
"Adam Pool. Ancient friend of John Constantine." He spoke it with a combination of delight and misfortune.
"Wasn't he your apprentice once?"
"That would be true, my friend. Now I'm somewhat playing the role of an apprentice myself…I feel about as damn confused as one." Adam glanced his way then and said, "Got a cigarette on you?"
"Uh, no but…there's a drugstore right around the corner."
"I doubt John will be willing to make any pit stops now." Adam sighed.
†††
Ravenscar was its usual asylum gloom. There was the screaming and pleading of a hysterical woman in the hall who was being escorted by a clamor of nurses who tried unsuccessfully to quiet her. Then there was a gurney being pushed through a door with about three paramedics pacing in silent swiftness - a young boy laid out and hooked to an oxygen machine was moribound upon it. The image brought back some pretty horrible memories to John who eagerly looked away.
"Can I help you?" asked the receptionist sitting at the computer in the lobby room. Her voice brought the tall dark haired man back to the reason for which he had come.
"Yea," John swallowed, "I need to pay a visit to the lady who goes only by Gabrielle."
The receptionist arched her brow at him in utter confusion.
"The Gabrielle that was supposedly found on the night of May 17th." Constantine added, his eyes aiming anywhere but upon her as he squeezed his hands into his pants pockets, shifting his coat away from his hips as he did.
"Oh," her voice was low-pitched and she took a moment to think. "Oh!" she beamed at last. "That Gabrielle! I'll have to have your name first."
"John Constantine. I was a patient here myself. Dr. Leslie Archer oversaw me."
In that brief moment while John stood waiting for the woman to grant his request and Adam and Sean stood attentively over his shoulder, another nurse slid over the desk and eyed John with a cold, almost suspicious glare.
"I'm sorry Mr. Constantine, but the patient you're requesting to see has specifically requested not to see you. In fact, she's requested that you are not allowed anywhere near her room." said the other nurse.
"Shit!" John spat. The two women frowned. "Pardon the French." he said before turning around and looking back upon the two men who had followed him here, both of them painted of exhaustion.
"Now what?" Adam asked, sighing deeply.
"I don't know." John sneered. "Come on." he said, pushing his way between them almost rudely - his attempt to get them to follow.
He had a vague idea of going back home. It was about as much motive as he had at the moment. Nothing seemed to be going smoothly and if a mental patient requested not to see someone in particular, there wasn't much you could do about it. And unless you were of relation to a patient, there wasn't much hope in getting in to see them period.
"Wait." Sean began. "What if I act like I'm a relative who's come forward to claim her?"
"Sean, get real." John retorted, pausing from his pacing of the sidewalk that bordered the outside of the place. "They'll have to run a background check, and if Gabrielle stakes you as a stranger, that's all it'll take; unless you miraculously figure a way to fake identity and find a loophole that states you are her relative. Otherwise, forget it. It's not happening."
"John, we need to get in there and talk to the bitch." Adam said, feeling almost guilty for even calling an Archangel such a name.
"I know that!" Constantine snapped. "But how are we gonna do it, huh? Any bright ideas? Because I'm dry of any at the moment."
"I may have one." Adam coughed up. "I don't know if it can be labeled as bright, but perhaps it'll get us where we want to be."
"What?"
"Yea, what Adam?" Sean asked, trying to put his two cents worth in - something he had a neck for doing in an attempt to justify his reason for hanging around.
"We'll," Adam slipped on his words, trying hard not to laugh at his own suggestion, "we could very well get in through a window. But we don't know what room she's staying in; unless of course we can get it out of someone who knows."
"The only ones who know are the people in charge of caring for her; and they damned aren't gonna tell us." John said.
"I know, I know. I just wish we knew someone … someone who could get us in." the old man said, rubbing his stubbly chin.
"Wait a minute." Constantine seized the moment, his eyes brightening beneath his weary facial form.
"What?" asked Adam.
"Angela. She's a Cop. If anyone can get us in, you and I, it'll be her."
"What about me?" asked Sean.
"What about you?" Constantine snorted rudely.
"I don't know. You said you and me to Adam, what about me?"
"Nothing. You can wait outside for my part…or go home if you want my preference."
"Nice. You stopped smoking but you're the same old asshole you've always been." Sean threw back casually.
"Don't like it, lump it. I don't have time for whining. Now, I need to get a hold of Angela. Hang on while I dial her number."
"You have a chick's number?" Sean snickered. "How'd you score a Cop?"
"F*** off, Sean." Was all John had to say about it as he pressed the cell against his ear and turned his back to his friends.
To Be Continued.