For the passengers aboard the 3 PM flight from London to Clermont-Ferrand near seats 14 A and B, the trip could not have landed fast enough. Atlantic travel had its own share of aches and pains by itself, but the two blonde men in those seats seemed to radiate unease and discomfort. One had twitched and mumbled constantly, quiet enough to seem easy to ignore but too sporadic to keep a mental shield up for. His companion had seemed all right initially but sounded like he'd start a fight with the stewardess when he stood up to cram his trench coat into an overhead compartment. They'd made the hundred minute flight feel like a hundred hours, whoever they both of them were, their fellow passengers hoped never to encounter them again. And, the longer he spent with his client, the more John Constantine hoped the same.

"Evil hands are at work now, Mr. Constantine." His patron rubbed his hands together and bit his under lip had enough to threaten blood as the two exited onto the concourse. "Monsters, demons, devils, they may well be ants to what is to come."

"What about angels then?" Constantine hoped to throw the madman off his balance, maybe that would make him pipe down. "Plenty of those apples are rotten too, you know."

He glared toward Constantine as he slipped his hands into his white and red jacket. "I'm an angel, you know."

"Uh huh. Of course you are." Constantine felt an involuntary spasm of his own. He needed a cigarette.

The client sputtered again. "It's a title! I'm not being literal about myself, but them, him—"

"All right, all right, shut your gob," Constantine said. "Thought you wanted to avoid detection."

Getting through Gatwick with a twitchy bloke who kept making the sign of the cross every five minutes was usually more than Constantine could tolerate. It was only the healthy advance the man had provided that brought him this far. There was someone the so-called angel needed to see about Judgement Day, and apparently he was desperate enough to run to a dark magician for protection. Once he reached some old church in Clermont, the rest of the money would be in John's pocket and he could head right back for home.

Constantine finally got a little breathing room from his client when he went to sign for the rental car. The magician stepped outside just as the sky was starting to go pink with the coming night and slipped a cigarette into his mouth. He'd lost his lighter back in the security line, so he had to improvise. With a rub of his fingers and an incantation, he produced a tiny flame, held it to his Silk Cut, and took a long drag.

"Bloody rapture nutters." He mumbled the future of the scenario to himself under his breath. "The end of the world didn't happen this time, but not because we were wrong. We weren't wrong the last time it didn't happen either. God just works in mysterious ways. Now that the thought that the Lord was wrong passed through all yer heads, make sure to be extra generous in yer tithing today, you sinful lot." He took another inhale from the cigarette. "Next time call that wanker in Chicago why don't you? He's got a number in the phone book, only one in the city claiming to be a wizard—"

Constantine glanced up from his frustrated rant long enough to glance across the street. There, under a steel statue of an early model biplane, stood a strange, lanky figure. He was a tall, pale man with jet black hair, a beard, and a blood red cloak could have been his only garment. As a powerful wind whipped through the air and tossed the bottom of Constantine's trench coat about, the hair and cloak of the pale one seemed totally unperturbed, as if he was a heavy statue. Cars passed behind him and their stare-down was momentarily interrupted by a family that stepped in their way. Whatever the motionless thing was, Constantine was beginning to suspect no one but him could see it.

"Mr. Constantine? Mr. Constantine?"

The magician flinched and turned toward his client. "What?"

"I have the car keys. We need to hurry. We need to—" His client frowned as he noticed Constantine's fixed gaze. He looked up to where Constantine was so focused. The statuesque figure revealed the life within him as a sinister sneer came across his face. As he did, the client went pale with horror. "God save us—move, MOVE!"

The creature in red lunged toward the pair, the screams of travelers confirmed to Constantine that whatever had rendered him unseen before was gone. And, judging by the way gravity didn't coax him back down, it seemed the thing could fly. It was the point in which the creature drew a whip of fire out from its cloak the cynical magician stopped being surprised.

"Your master is a rat, Arlington!" The creature swung the whip of flames toward Constantine's client, who only barley managed to evade it. "And you will pay for his sins!"

Arlington, as if he saw no other way, ran into a nearby taxi cab and pulled out the driver.

"No, no!" The cab driver tried to struggle against Arlington, but he possessed great strength for a man of his relatively meager stature. After some babbled French, he managed to say, "That thing will kill me!"

"It's me he wants!" Arlington turned and shouted to Constantine, "John, hurry up, get in!"

Constantine hazarded a look toward the demon in the red cloak as he swung the blazing whip toward him. A surge of energy rushed through the magician's hands as he raised them, clawed in opposite directions, and formed a shield sufficient to absorb the impact of the fire.

"Hate this country." Constantine rushed toward the cab. "Been back here fifteen minutes and I hate it all."

Constantine leapt into the cab. Arlington slammed onto the gas pedal and peeled out of the airport with a wretched screech. The demon in red held his mad glare and flew toward the speeding taxi. The magician slipped his head out the window to watch the creature's pursuit. His client had put some distance between them and the demon, but he was catching up quickly. From the front of the car came three different shrill honks. Arlington swung the car around, Constantine hit his head against the door and groaned.

"Left side, you bloody git, drive on the left side!"

The car sped onto the freeway and the promised city of Clermont was only seven kilometers out. Arlington's contact was waiting in the Cathedrale Notre-Dame-de-l'Assomption. Constantine wasn't usually a fan of churches, but at least holy ground would help ward that creature off. He glared out the back window. The demon from the airport was just a speck in the distance, but he never totally disappeared from view. And little by little, it seemed to increase in size.

The magician cast his gaze alternately between the sight of the creature in the rearview, the jittery Arlington, and the gears the car shifted in and out of. The two didn't have far to go, but the demon seemed hellbent on getting in their way. Constantine shut his eyes, concentrated, and sought a way to make his own luck.

Synchronicity Wave Travel, as some smart arse had decided to call it, was the key to most of John Constantine's "magic." Oh he could create summoning circles and dabbled in pyromancy, but most of his accomplishments just laid in understanding the push and pull of the universe around him. A premonition here, a little instinct there, it went a long way.

Arlington eyed their pursuer in the rear window. "Mister Constantine? Mister Constantine what should we do?"

His companion didn't hear him, his focus was singular. Cars on the freeway behind them came to sudden, shocked stops as the flying monstrosity in red closed the distance.

"Constantine, he's going to catch us! We need to do something."

The magician raised a hand as if asking him to hold off for a moment.

A devilish hiss came from the back window as the demon swung his whip of fire and it clashed with the rear window. Arlington jerked the wheel to and fro as best he was able as he turned onto the road. Other cars honked and swerved around him, only some of whom were aware of the monster on their trail.

Constantine's meditation was interrupted when Arlington swung the car to the left and the blazing whip took out the rearview mirror on Constantine's side. The turn nearly threw the magician into his client, forced his eyes open, and he shouted, "Jesus Christ! Take it easy!"

Arlington glared in his direction an extra second before he turned back toward the freeway. "You will not take the Lord's name in vain."

Constantine sneered. "That's what I love about all you religious types. You really got your priorities straight." He sat in silence for three seconds, reached over, and grabbed ahold of the steering wheel to jerk it all the way to the right.

The demon in red increased his speed as Constantine's grip and Arlington's foot on the gas sped the taxi through a thin metal gate and a patch of grass. Arlington screamed and demanded to know what was going on, Constantine just shouted, "Take your foot off that pedal and we're dead, damn it, dead!"

Confused as he was, the demon kept up his pursuit. As the taxi swerved up, down, and around traffic, the creature in red cracked his whip and hissed again. "You can't escape, boy. You won't stop him, we're on the cusp of a new world, and you can't—"

Constantine jerked the car over the barricade again and forced the taxi back to its proper lane an instant before it crashed into an oncoming semi-truck. The creature in hot pursuit was not so readily prepared and was cut off when he smashed into the fender face first.

The magician pumped his free fist as I brought the taxi back into its proper lane. "Outta slow the bugger down for a bit. Now move."

Quiet overtook the car for a few minutes as Arlington sped toward Clermont, his fear and twitchiness still caused an occasional spasm. Constantine had never been to the town or its cathedral before, but even the structure's spires were so enormous and towered so high above every other building that it was impossible to miss.

The relative calm passed when Arlington asked, "Mister Constantine?" There was no answer. "Mister Constantine, I need another favor."

"Then you're gonna need to put a lot more pounds in my pocket."

"Please… I don't have any more money on me." Though everything Arlington said seemed to drip fear and paranoia, a sudden calm came over his voice. One that had the effect of making him sound even more terrified. "This could be the world, Mister Constantine. Only a few of us know what's coming, and I may not survive this night…. Please?"

Constantine breathed a deep sigh, felt around in the pocket of his coat and found another cigarette. Again he lit up with a quick burst of magic. After a drag from the Silk, he asked, "What?"

"I need you to promise to deliver this message if I should fail to," Arlington said. "You magical people, you can take oaths like that and be bound to them, can't you?"

"You're not paying enough to bind me to anything." Constantine's concern, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with money.

"I'm begging you—you stand to lose yourself too. If you say no and I fail, you'll have sealed your fate. I swear—"

Lose myself? Constantine thought. What the hell does that mean? "All right, all right. If it'll shut you up." Despite the fierce response, Constantine was not the type of man to be annoyed into taking a magical oath. It was not irritation that drove him, he could sense the very real fear that emanated off of Arlington. And, even if he found it questionable, it did indeed frighten him. "You got a knife or some such?"

Arlington blinked as he turned off the highway. "What?"

"Gonna need blood," Constantine said. "Some of yours and some of mine."

"What? You're—you're going to do witchcraft with my blood? I thought—"

Constantine scowled. "You thought you could make a deal like that and not be involved. Well you were wrong. That's how you make a pact like this, we both need to participate."

A shudder ran through Arlington's body as he reached into his jacket and produced a pocket knife he had somehow slipped past security. "What else?"

"Terms. Solid terms," Constantine said. "If you leave any wiggle room, you're not getting a drop out of me."

"All right, all right." Arlington swallowed his stammers. "If I should fail—"

"If you should die."

Arlington flinched. "What?"

"If you run away out of cowardice, you'll have failed and left me with your dirty work. Death is the term."

"What if I'm captured?" Arlington began to stammer again. "I can't help that."

"If you're dead or captured… and you weren't just handing yourself over for either."

"Why would I—"

"I don't take chances. Not with blood bonds."

Arlington's already terrible spasms only seemed to get worse with each qualifier. "Fine. If I am, for whatever reason outside of my own will and control, unable to deliver my message, you will deliver it in my place."

"The recipient?"

"Father Garret Day. Tonight he's waiting for me at the cathedral. The priest there could give you his contact information if you miss him." Arlington pulled off the interstate as he spoke and the slower traffic of in-town Clermont Ferrand only made his twitching worse.

"And the message?"

"Do you have something to write it down?"

"It'll imprint, magic bonds do that."

"You need to tell him—" Arlington paused and cleared his throat.

"The one who lives but should not be,

Heir to angel and man, Nephilim is he.

Seeks to pierce the wrathful one,

By the head of Destiny.

Should he hold such, he'll bring demise.

Cinders will be mountains, valleys and skies.

For behold, all God's beauty and creation,

Is damned to darkness in his eyes."

Constantine remained silent for a few seconds before he asked, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Arlington assured him, "It will make sense to the priest."

"If I'm going to deliver it, I outta know what it means!"

Arlington swallowed hard and glared in the rearview window. There was still no sign of the demon, at least for the moment, and the cathedral would only be another few miles. "I can't tell you that."

"Then I can't agree to the oath."

"Please!" The imploration forced another jolt through Arlintgon and he momentarily sped up, almost into the car in front of him. "You don't understand, this is vital information. I can't just leave it with a nonbeliever—"

Constantine spoke in a snarl. "I believe you're a damn idiot, that good enough for you?"

Arlington opened his mouth to rebut but didn't get an opportunity. Something smashed into the roof of the taxi hard enough to put an indent in the ceiling. Constantine flinched backwards, Arlington screamed. The terrible red creature lurched down onto the hood of the car, the fanged grin on his face again. Arlington hit the brakes and brought the car to a fast stop, but couldn't throw the beast from his place. The demon pulled back his fist and thrust a punch into the glass, cracks spiderwebbed across the window.

"We're so close!" Arlington said. "So close—"

Constantine leaned across Arlington's body and started honking the horn. "Get on the sidewalk."

Arlington's pupils dilated. "Are you insane?"

"Wee bit." Constantine grabbed the wheel and jerked it toward the sidewalk. "Floor it and beg your god we're not about to play pedestrian bowling."

Arlington didn't want to cooperate but his survival instinct made his foot smash right into the gas pedal. The demon struggled to maintain his balance and walkers screamed, cursed and jumped out of the way. The creature pulled back his fist for another punch and shattered the windshield. With just space enough to reach in a hand and half of his arm, the demon took ahold of Arlington's shoulders and dug his claws through hoodie and skin. Arlington screamed, jerked the wheel to and fro as a horrible feeling like fire coursed through the demon's claws and into his body.

"God damn it, piss off!" Constantine jerked the wheel to a sharp right. The demon cackled as it pulled back its clawed hand for another strike.

In an instant Arlington's demeanor shattered. He threw himself forward with a sneer and grit his teeth. "Enough! Both of you!" The voice was at once that of the jittery man from the plane, and yet so much more. Constantine flinched backwards in his seat as he heard the wrath and confidence in that voice. Arlington's jacket and undershirt began to melt and remold themselves until, in just a second's time, he wore the righteous, bloody-crossed armor of an old world crusader.

Arlington leveled a glare first toward Constantine and commanded, "You shall not take the Lord's name in vain." Such was the change and the force that Constantine was too thrown off to get a proper retort out. Then the knight turned to the demon, himself caught up in wonder at the transformation. "And you, beast of the shadows." Out from his sides, he drew what appeared to be the wrapped handles of a pair of sword. "My Master and I command you back to the darkness!" Out from one handle shot a burst of orange flame, and from the other came a jet like cold, blue fire. Hands off the wheel and foot firmly to the gas, Arlington shouted, "I am Azrael, and I am your angel of death!" and thrust the blades into the demon.

The crimson creature let loose an inhuman scream of agony as the two holy swords pierced his flesh. Out from its chest burst a blast of hellish energy that hammered into Arlington as the monster fled. The force of the impact stole the wind and energy from the knight, who fell backwards in his seat as his armor melted back into street clothes.

"Damn it, now you're falling asleep on me?" Constantine reached across and grabbed ahold of the steering wheel again. "No, no, that's fine. I'll get us the rest of the way." He looked out the window toward the enormous, onyx cathedral. Somehow, someway, now he needed to get himself and Arlington inside.