Jim Corrigan's journey from Chicago to France was largely uneventful. The cabbie who drove him to O'Hare accepted his payment in cash and, if anyone had asked, couldn't have described a thing about the man after he'd departed. Hands tucked into his pockets, he walked through the security line without a ticket or identification and no mind was given him. He wasn't a ghost, his presence was acknowledged and accepted. But to those who may have stood on his way, whether they realized it or not, Corrigan was an implacable force they could do nothing to stop.

If he and the spirit within had willed it, Corrigan could have arrived in Clermont-Ferrand in a blink. But even after their years working together, the old officer hesitated to invoke the soul of retribution that lingered within him. Azmodus had vanished again, quick as he's come. When he reappeared, Corrigan and his ally would be there to face him.

Ten minutes after he'd first boarded, a man in his mid-twenties with a Rolex on his wrist and the stinging scent of Chanel cologne settled in next to Corrigan, paid him no mind, and shut his eyes for a long rest.

This man has a newborn at home, the spirit within whispered. He told his wife he is meeting with investors, and that is true. When he is finished, he intends to seek prostitutes.

Corrigan swallowed and clenched the arm of his seat. "That's not what we're leaving for."

Here's right there. Right now. He swore an oath and now seeks to break it.

"We have other concerns."

He hears every prayer, and I sense every sin. Soon he will be asleep. We can peruse him there without the shedding of blood.

Corrigan fumbled with the buttons on the arm of his chair until the small television screen offered him a selection of movies he'd never heard of. This was why he hadn't simply warped across the sea. The spirit within was already hungry for vengeance and when he invoked its power, it would seek whatever sinner it could possibly get its hands on. Better to wait as long as possible before it let it do so.

-000-

Early in the morning, with cups of coffee and plates of croissant spread between the four, Sadie summarized the strange dream of the previous night. Cassandra kept close for emotional support, Constantine appeared to take mental notes and asked for a few repetitions, and the Question confirmed where she'd heard the name, "Benjie" just nights prior.

"I don't know what that word was they were throwing around. Manan… manaan… yeah, I don't know." Sadie sighed, managed a weak chuckle, and put on her best English accent. "Sodding vampire, as our friend across the pond would say."

Constantine scoffed. "That was a terrible attempt."

"Whatever he really is, it's not like he chose it for himself," Sadie said. "He didn't sell his soul to try taking over the world. And he said himself he doesn't like hurting people—"

Constantine cut in, "He said he doesn't like drinking human blood. Which you need to have a history doing to know if you like it or not."

Sadie sighed but nodded. "I guess you're right. I don't know, it just shook me up. I've heard of sympathetic vampires. I've read enough dumb YA to know about supposedly sympathetic Catholic vampires. But—well—when a lot of crime in your city is attributed to homicidal clowns, you don't expect to encounter a monster quite like that."

Everyone contemplated that for a few moments before the Question said, "I knew Harvey Dent for a little while after one of his attempted reforms. The few inches of empathy I gave him warped very quickly into obsession. There are plenty of monsters out there who used to be decent people. But if that's all you let yourself see of them, you'll never be able to fight anything besides a literal demon."

"Course every demon was once an angel. Jury's out on if they were any better then." Constantine said. "But let's not head down that rabbit hole, I haven't had near enough coffee."

His first two sentences made Cassandra's hackles rise, but his last settled her back down. It was strange, she was usually able to shrug off an occasional backhanded word about her beliefs. But Constantine's cut deep. Maybe, she suspected, because she feared just how much first-hand knowledge he truly had.

The magician rose and wiped croissant flakes from his coat. "Travel itinerary one more time then?"

"There's a direct route into Rome, but our enemies are almost certainly watching it like hawks," the Question said. "It'll cost us a few hours, but it looks like our new, safest route will be from here to Lyon, Lyon to Genoa, then Genoa into Rome. We should be able to hail a ride the rest of the way to the Vatican from there."

"Ugh, right, Vatican City." Constantine looked away and scratched at the back of his head. "Keep forgetting that's where we're headed by the end of this."

Cassandra was on the edge of interjecting, but surprisingly, Sadie beat her to it. "Oh come on. Don't hate on the Vatican. I'm not religious, but I've wanted to go there for years now!"

For a moment that threw Cassandra off, but on reflection, she decided she had heard that a few times before.

"Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Titian, some of the greatest artists of all time have stuff out there."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Constantine said. "And the walls surrounding it basically turn the whole place into holy ground. My magic's sure to be crap out there. I was hoping it'd mean the same for our opponents, but after you described the little vamp bein' baptized—" he shuddered and shook his head. "Sounds like I'm playing with a handicap and they're not."

"Well hopefully we won't be there long," Sadie said. "I mean—hopefully the mission will be accomplished before long. If this Father Day is all he's cracked up to be, he'll know how what we need to do next." When the rest of the group seemed contented, she added, "There was one other thing, though. That guy, Kedar, Benjie's godfather, do we think he might be the one responsible for all this? The one who," she swallowed, "killed Arlington?"

"Coulda been," Constantine said. "Seems a bit early to conclude though. He might be just one of many pulling the strings. We'll see if he keeps coming up while you're asleep."

The four departed their hotel for the Question's 9:30 train to Lyon, the shortest step of that leg of the journey. The train from Lyon to Genoa ran only twice a day, at 12:25 AM and 12:25 PM, and lasted over ten hours. Aboard the train each compartment sat two riders on each side, so once more the four crammed in together.

"Let me get it out before you do." Constantine looked to Sadie as he sat. "This is just like how you finally imagined going to Hogwarts, innit?"

"Huh? Oh," Sadie said. "I gotta be honest, Harry Potter never really did it for me."

Try as he may, the magician couldn't keep his mouth from dropping open. "Wha—what? What the hell kind of teenage art student are you?"

Sadie smirked, shrugged, and elbowed Cassandra. "Cassie can verify I've had this exact conversation with our friend Steph. I dunno, I guess I was busy with Le'Guin and Alexander at that age. You ever see that Disney movie The Black Cauldron? It's mostly garbage, but it got me reading Prydain, so I guess I'm grateful."

Constantine just scowled and shook his head. The thought that he'd figured the younger woman out had been appealing, and it was always bothersome for him to be thrown off-kilter.

Some words were exchanged across the small aisle, but much of the journey passed in nervous silence. Constantine folded leaned against the side of the window and mumbled, "Wake me if something tries to kill us." The Question sat with pen and notepad and seemed to review a few pages over and over. If not for Sadie, Cassandra was sure she would have been stuck stewing with her own thoughts as well. But her girlfriend, still fresh to the world of superheroics, kept conversation and questions going.

She asked the Question, "So why exactly hasn't anyone else commented on your mask yet?"

The elder woman sighed and considered if she needed to bother with an answer. Sure she'd be pestered otherwise, she said, "It's a long explanation involving chemical adhesives and a spray I'm wearing like a perfume. From a distance it still appears blank, but once you pick up on the scent, whether you realize it or not, your brain starts to fill in the blanks. The only reason it doesn't work on you is because you saw me like this in the first place."

"Huh. All right then." She nodded toward Constantine. "I also would have accepted magic. I guess he's made me a believer."

Cassandra set her head against Sadie's shoulder, closed her eyes, and asked, "What about God?"

Both Sadie and the Question went quiet at that, and Cassandra regretted the question when she sensed a quiver run up Sadie's body.

"Sorry," Cassandra said. "Didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's a legitimate point," Sadie said. "I—I mean, man… I'm stuffed with the faith of about a thousand years' worth of holy warriors right now, and I've heard about vampires and honest to god demons." She rubbed her forehead. "I'd really like to save all the big complications until I get home, if I can manage it."

In spite of her attempts to seem distant, the Question couldn't hold back her interest. "Were you brought up in any faith?"

"Not really," Sadie said. "When I used to stay with my dad at the holidays sometimes we'd go to church once around Christmas, that was about it." She shook her head and uttered a sarcastic laugh. "My mom didn't care about religion, and she was still pissed about having a lesbian daughter. She was pissed about a lot of stuff, but come on."

"I don't know if it would have been any easier if she did believe," the Question said. "My parents certainly fought with me."

"Hey, at least they had an excuse to fall back on. My mom kinda just sucked at her job." Sadie rose a hand and ran it over Cassandra's hair. "Cassie's the only really religious person I've ever been around for an extended period. But then again, she's not like most people. In about a dozen more ways than one."

In a drowsy tone, Constantine remarked, "Can't wait until we get to a hotel again," he said. "So I can tell the two of you to get a room."

Cassandra glared in his direction, but Sadie just laughed. "All right, maybe I'm a poor judge of character, but I think you're acting like an ass on purpose. Nobody who behaves like a jerk so much can actually be one at heart."

The magician scoffed. "No?"

"Well, not when I see them dragging a friend out of a car wreck and ready to burn anybody blocking his way."

Constantine cringed for a moment. "We weren't friends."

"Well, I think that just proves the point even further, doesn't it?"

Cassandra lingered on that logic for a moment before she said, "You should see how Batman works."

"Oh yeah? Can I come out on patrol with you one of these nights?"

The thought turned Cassandra's stomach with worry, so she just said, "Just ask me, I'll let you meet him."

For miles and miles the train ran. Sometimes through small farming villages, bluffs, or long stretches of forest. At one point, Sadie remarked, "It's weird. Half a world away and it kinda looks like flyover country out in Smallville. It just goes on and on."

The sun set, a trolley passed through the aisles to offer light suppers, and after ten hours aboard, the train finally came to a stop. The four took a few long, leisurely minutes to yawn and stretch before they stepped out one after another into Genoa. Even in the dark of ten PM the city bright yellow stonework of many of the buildings seemed illuminated, and the air was salty with the sea's pungency. That scent, along with the combined noise of nearby vendors and the zip of Vespas in the streets, was a nice return to familiarity for all of them. As they headed toward the train station's exit, it seemed all was progressing smoothly.

Then, among the throng of other nightlifers at the threshold that separated the station from the city proper, a pair of figures stepped forward as if to great them. The relative calm within Cassandra, Sadie, and Constantine shattered when they came into focus, and the magician put out a hand to hold back the Question before she could walk right into them.

Standing between the four and Genoa was the tall, muscular black man Constantine knew as Gedeyon. And just a few steps ahead of him, dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and commanding as much power as ever, was Nijah.

Within her clothes Cassandra felt the tingle of the Suit of Sorrows, ready to defend her if battle began. The thought sickened her after the display it had put up against Benjie, she swallowed hard and tried to put its power out of her mind. Then again, she reflected as the two stepped closer, if someone tried to put a hand on Sadie once more, the power and the fury may just come bubbling out. She considered trying for a run right past them, but the scare from the previous night mentally forced her close to Sadie for her protection.

When she'd closed the distance, the younger woman raised her hands in petition. "I don't suppose we could just talk about this matter?"

Constantine sneered. "How the hell did the two of you get here so fast?"

"Maybe we don't need courtesy for the heathen, general," the giant behind her said. "Perhaps I should just finish him off."

"Peace, Gedeyon, peace," Nijah said. "We must save anyone we can, it is our way."

"Save, huh?" Sadie asked. "Really seemed like it when you killed Arlington."

Cassandra turned to her and commanded, "Quiet! Not the time—"

"Or whatever you did to Crispin Freeman." The Question stepped forward. "Did you try so hard to save him?"

The two crusaders stared down their four adversaries. A few of those going to and from the train gave them a curious glance, but even those who understood English decided they had better places to be and left them alone with their confrontation.

"Each of them knew the grand design before they were struck down," Nijah said. "We're offering you the chance to hear it for yourselves. We're serving a higher purpose." Though she looked between all of them as she spoke, she zeroed her attention in on Cassandra thereafter. "We want to make this a better world, a Godlier world. And we think if you just understood how, you might be on our side."

With a crack of his knuckles, Constantine stepped forward and said, "Think we're all quite satisfied with our religious convictions at the moment. So unless you're going to brain us before you send us to Sunday school, I advise you step aside."

"Dedeb," Gedeyon chuckled and shook his head. "You will understand us, even if we have to make you hear us. This is your last warning."

With the power of eons of warriors swirling just beneath her surface, Cassandra allowed enough of the Suit of Sorrow's power to slip through to shine off of her body in warning. "Not afraid of you." At this point, a few confused, curious passersby had stopped to observe what was going on.

Gedeyon looked to Nijah. "Any fear of witnesses, general?"

She shook her head. "A demonstration is in order. Proceed."

The tall man pulled off his white T-shirt and hunched downward. As a snarl slipped between his teeth some great, unseen power began to radiate from within him.

"What in the—" Constantine stepped back. "I knew he was fey, but in the hell is—"

Gedeyon's flesh shook and grew rigid for a few seconds before he roared and his skin burst like a balloon. A rapidly-expanding mass of leathery gray rose over nine feet tall from where he'd stood. The onlookers screamed in terror and ran, the hearts of the four faced against the crusaders sank with dread as the gray mass found shape as a monstrosity with blunted arms and a face with the shape and sheen of an axe.

With four black eyes he starred them all down and roared, "Are you afraid now?"