Okay; a little John/Angela drama here cause hey, he's John and she's Angela!
CHAPTER XI: The Woes Of Lust
The knocks against the door came quiet, unsteady, perhaps a little hesitant; and he was hesitant to open. He had a headache and it was night now, still raining and he wanted to finish his drink.
He opened the door slightly, only allowing enough space to catch a face; but when he saw who it was, he opened the door entirely, surprised and amused all at once.
"Angela?"
She stood in the doorway in a lavender hoodie, jeans, running shoes and damp hair pulled out of her face in a neat ponytail.
Her arms were wrapped around her shivering body, and she looked as if she had jogged here.
"John, I know it's late but…"
"…Come in." he said, cutting her off before she could finish.
She followed him inside, and as she stepped past him she heard a somewhat sarcastic whisper.
"Back already…"
"You say something?"
"No." he replied, shutting the door. "You come here unexpectedly; it must be important."
"It is." she stated.
She followed him to the wooden table, and both of them found comfort in the chairs.
"So, what's on your mind Detective?"
"Today a man was convicted for the murder of his wife."
She watched John swig down a harsh swallow of vodka.
"He claimed that he was possessed…but I didn't believe him. If he was, it would be the first one of these cases where a possessed victim committed a brutal crime."
She swallowed nervously.
"He eventually became impatient with the interrogation and went into a continuous rant; telling me I should question his freakyson who was the real cause of it all. He said his son was at Ravenscar."
"Ravenscar?" at last John had displayed some interest.
"My partner and I went there afterwards to talk with the kid…he's the reason I came here, John; to tell you."
"I'm listening."
"He was a sweet little boy, but really troubled and very smart for his age. I could see it in his face, how he spoke and the pictures he drew…take a look at this."
She dipped into her handbag, pulling out four drawings that Gavin had done; the same ones that she and Weiss had took from his room.
John took the pictures from her, scanning over them and taking it all in.
"Take a look at that last one. He said he knew that his dad was going to kill his mother."
"So the man was possessed? Isn't that why he drew these demons around him?"
"That's not what Gavin thought. He accused his dad of being evil, but never suggested a possession. But I think the demons might have been feeding off his dad's violent nature, driving him to commit the crime."
"Some special ability or foresight must have brought him to draw these." John said, still gazing at the pictures.
"He said he dreamed them. He also said that his dad was always mean, a drunk too. He was afraid for his mother's safety…One day he came home and found his dad attacking her, and Gavin, the kid, threw his dad on the floor and presented a crucifix with his index fingers and placed them against his father's forehead. He said that his touch burned his dad's skin…When my partner reached out to shake Gavin's hand, he refused, saying that he couldn't touch anyone because it would burn them."
"Interesting." John said. "Maybe I'll have a look into this myself."
"I thought you might."
There came a moment of silence as John retained his stare on the drawings.
"I think I'm getting closer to solving this mystery with the demons." he said at length.
"You are?" Hope was beaming in her eyes.
"Hopefully. I met up with an old childhood friend of mine named Katherine Ryan; she has dreams too, or did, about strange things. She came to me looking for a good story for the paper on the occult, and we ended up doing a little investigation at the Rosedale Cemetery."
"So, did you find out anything?"
"Yeah. Found that a mausoleum was being used as a portal by Balthazar's old girlfriend."
"Isn't Balthazar the one who…"
"Yeah." he replied. "Let me ask you something;"
"What?"
"Do you believe in vampires?"
The question caught her off guard.
"What? John, what are you asking me here?" she asked, scrunching her face with disbelief.
"They're real Angela…and they work in the occult."
"Okay, vampires…wow." she relaxed her expression, a sigh ceasing from her lips. "Sure, I guess I can believe they're real. Shoot, I've seen demons, why not Count Dracula?"
"They don't sleep in caskets or turn into bats; that's all fairytale bullshit. They're people who sold their souls to the devil hundreds, even thousands of years ago to serve him in the mortal world for all eternity, and in return keep their youth…Roach looked it up."
"Roach huh?"
"You were skeptical about the demons too, Angela." he reminded her.
"Alright, I'll believe you. You've never lied to me yet. Tell me what else you found out."
"I managed to get out of Sabine, the vampiress, that she was working for The Dark Arts Lord; but that's all the information I could force out of her before finishing her off."
"You killed her?"
"I've always heard from Midnite that killing vampires is no different from killing half breeds. It was true."
"So what are you gonna do, John?"
"I don't know where to find this Dark Arts Lord; but I may know an old friend who can help me."
"Who?"
"Ambroas. I met him at Ravenscar when I was a kid…in fact, he may also be able to figure out Gavin and Katherine's dreams."
"How so?"
"He helped me figure out a few things after I committed suicide."
"It would be good if someone could give that little boy a helping hand. God knows he needs some kind of hope."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks John. I knew you'd be the better to understand him."
"Yeah." He would never forget the treatments that his parents had made him go through as a kid.
More silence fell between them as they both sat quietly. Angela's eyes seemed to dash about them and her feet began to tap against the floor in her restlessness; but John remained still, buried deep within his thoughts.
"I guess I need to be going." she said, standing up.
"Hold up." he paused her.
"What?" she asked with a sparkle in her hazel eyes. The look on her face sent a warm and comforting strike to John's heart.
"I uh…" he caught himself from staring at her. "Can you make me some copies of those drawings? I'll need to show them to Ambroas if I do make a trip to see him."
"Sure John." she said.
"Angela,"
He had stopped her from making way towards the door. He stood up and rounded himself to where she stood.
"What is it, John?" she asked in a lowered tone, glancing at the floor and then at him. He made her tremble.
"Are you always going to keep me hanging on this cliff?"
"I guess," she sighed. "if you're willing to keep hanging." She hated the way she replied. It sounded a little cold coming out of her.
"I see." he replied with sarcasm.
"Look John, haven't you got other things occupying your time now? Why are you suddenly making me feel guilty? Before you just wanted to stay friends so you wouldn't feel too much obligation to protect me, not that I even need your protecting."
"Give me a break." he grumbled.
"John,"
He cut her off.
"Angela, I really…"
"Really what, John?"
"I…"
Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he tell her the truth?...Maybe he could if she'd drop the cocky, tough-girl attitude.
"I told you;" she said after his lame stuttering. "It won't work, you and I. We're both loners, John."
"Always a catch…" he sighed.
"John, I'm sorry. I care deeply for you…."
"Do you?" he seemed to doubt her.
"I can't, live like you do…and you wouldn't be able to live with my lifestyle either."
"Why not? Why not give it a shot?"
"Because John, you wouldn't last…You drink, you're negative, and I don't want to follow in the trail of the circles you travel."
"So," he said solemnly. "This is good bye?"
"John," she took his hand in hers. "I'll be here for you as best I can, but only as a friend."
"Why don't you learn to let yourself trust someone to love you, Angela?"
It annoyed her how he often managed to read her own feelings and point out her own flaws before she could, him of all people.
"Maybe I would if I knew that you could let go of your old habits." she said, throwing his hand back.
"I have." he argued.
"I mean besides smoking, John."
He kept his stare on her, and she tried to ignore it; ignore how awkward it made her feel.
"John, please…you're not the settling down kind of guy."
He pulled her close in that moment, forcing her against his chest and trying to kiss her; but she dodged his lips and pushed herself away from his grasp. It was a difficult thing for her to bring herself to do, as she had longed from the start for their lips to touch.
"John please," she had tears in her eyes now. "Don't make this any harder for me than it already is!"
She gathered herself and walked out the door.
"Angela!" he called out; but it was useless.
He found himself sitting alone at the table again, and the vodka bottle beside him looked comforting, but it reminded him of an invisible wall that seemed to cut between him and the woman who had stolen his heart.
He held the bottle tightly, his hands shaking as he eyed it with disgust, forcing himself to hold back any sign of tears that may have dared to play at his steely eyes.
The glass bottle was thrown violently against the wall across from him, and it shattered into dozens of sharp pieces of broken glass.
John bared his face into his hands feeling the sting of a broken heart that seemed to stab him like a knife.
"Never thought it possible for a woman to make me feel so damn vulnerable...a woman of all things."
Angela however was more than just another woman, she was special, different, and she had a way about her that had driven John into a dark hole of longing yet unreachable desires.
As Angela drove back home that night, she tried to convince herself that she had made the right choice about John.
She didn't deny her love for him. It was clear that he had begun to grow on her from the very moment their eyes had met in Ravenscar when she demanded that the elevator door be held for her.
"Not if I can help it." he had said.
A smile creased on her as she humored herself with his raw attitude. Strangely, it was a characteristic she found amusing about him. Maybe it was because a nice John wouldn't be half as interesting.
It was true that Angela found it difficult to trust anyone, to let anyone in; a common trait that both she and John had shared, though amazingly he had lately been the one wanting to open the door for a relationship; but now she was shutting him out.
She had cut herself off from her parents a long time ago, ignoring them and avoiding them as much as possible; and Isabel, her beloved sister had been cut out of Angela's life along with them. Perhaps it was the fear of the dark that plagued her. Back then, she didn't want to understand her sister…not after everyone had started thinking her to be ill.
She had let her job, her depression, her stubborn independent nature come between her and family, and now it was coming between her and a possible romance with John.
Attachment scared her. Being bound to something she no longer wanted involvement in had frightened her away from ever wanting to embark on another one of John's escapades.
She knew what was out there, and she didn't want to face hell anymore than what she had to after all that had come to play with Mammon and the Spear Of Destiny, as well as her sister's death.
She wanted to continue being who she was: Detective Dodson. She had dreamed of that title since she was fourteen.
She wanted to keep herself. Belong to no one but her.
She often longed for love. She had longed to kiss John, longed for him to embrace her; but she knew now that she had to make her own destiny. That destiny did not involve a relationship with John Constantine, a man who tended to be stone-cold.
TO BE CONTINUED…