Once on the interior side of the great Notre Dame cathedral, Constantine relinquished his grip on Arlington to slam the door shut. The sudden shift of dead weigh almost made Sadie crumble and it took her a few seconds struggle to set Arlington's unconscious form down gently.

"Ugh, thanks a lot." She grit her teeth for a second and turned toward the magician as he ran his hands up and down the great wooden doors. "All right, Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, you mind explaining what's going on now?"

Constantine only paused from his analysis for a moment. "Eh? What did you just call me?"

"Come on, you know. You've got the trench coat and you were determined to get to holy ground."

He cast a look at her for a moment and muttered, "You look too young to make that reference. For the moment I'm checking the wards on this old place."

"I'm sorry, the what now?"

Constantine sighed. "You're gonna regret going down this rabbit hole. Look, the bloke on the floor there is meeting someone here, a demon of some kind or another tried to cut us off on our way in. Hence your holy ground observation."

Sadie blinked a few times more than her eyes required out of confusion. "Uh, when you say demon—"

"I've seen the barons of hell get into churches before." If Constantine heard her words, he didn't acknowledge them. "But this place is old, had a lot of believers in and out. I can't get a decent spell going, so the clergy probably haven't been subverted. Bit of a pain that is, but if it keeps that thing on the outside, it'll have to suffice."

With a slow turn around, Sadie took in the inside of the cathedral. Indeed, even apart from whatever the British man was on about wards and clergy, the enormous church did seem to have a power to it. The interior lighting was minimal, only a few bulbs burned around the perimeter and the setting sun showed red and white through panes of stained glass. When she considered how many tourists surely walked through the building every day, it seemed strange the floor could seem so dusty and decrepit. Sadie had never been religious, but she'd painted well enough to earn a scholarship for her watercolors. She knew full and well the power imagery could have.

She shook those thoughts from her head. The two strangers were inside, she doubted there was anything more she could contribute. "I… uh… I'm hoping my girlfriend is back from the thing she ran off to go do. I'm going back outside now. Good luck with uh… whatever you're doing here."

Constantine didn't turn to look at her, but did say, "I wouldn't recommend it. If that thing is out there it might be good and pissed you gave us a hand getting inside."

"I wouldn't be concerned with him. Good Samaritans cannot be judged by the wickedness of those they help."

Sadie turned, Constantine froze, and even Arlington stirred at the sound of the new voice. It was at once firm but gentle. The speaker did not shout, the powerful acoustics of the cathedral carried his words far. And his speech was augmented by the rooted force of old age and a pronounced Irish accent. Out from behind one of the great pillars along the seats stepped a short, wrinkled, but dignified old man in a dark cloak. "If you're going to run, lass, I'd advise you do it now."

The magician at Sadie's side glared down the elderly man. "And just who are you supposed to be then?"

"Brendan Gallagher." The freshly awakened Arlington wheezed as he slowly pushed off the cathedral's cold ground. "His name is Brendan Gallagher."

"That's 'Father Gallagher' to you, boy," the Irishman said. He then turned his look back, first toward Sadie, then to Constantine. "As for the two of you, I believe yor parts in this are over. If you step out of this church now, my congregation and I will not pursue you."

"I'm sorry, was that a threat." Sadie stiffened for a moment before she took a step away from the door. "Well, congrats, you're the first priest to ever tell me to leave a church, and now I guess I don't want to."

"I'm getting paid for this," Constantine said. "I leave when the twitchy bloke pays me to."

"I'm so sorry about this, John." Arlington shook his head as he stood up as straight as he could manage. "It seems I was manipulated into coming here. I thought Father Day would be waiting here for me, but it seems I was deceived."

"What?" Constantine balked. "You said you knew this guy we were coming for. What, does every crotchety old priest sound the same to you?"

"Gallagher has powers, John. Powers I can't even begin to—"

"Enough talk!" A sharpened edge came into the priest's voice. "I've given you your choices."

"You don't frighten me, old man," Constantine said. "I don't think I need magic to handle you."

"He's a chaplain," Arlington said. "A noncombatant. He's not the one we'll need to worry about."

Constantine scowled. "What?"

In a dramatic twitch of his hands, Gallagher slammed shut the Bible in his hand and the sound echoed through the cathedral. "Nijah, Gedeyon, it seems they've made their choices. Do not drag this out."

Out from the growing shadows of the cathedral the two leapt, one giant toward Constantine and Sadie, a lithe figure at Arlington. Constantine's sixth sense clued him into his attacker a few precious seconds before the distance closed, which allowed him to grab Sadie by one of her shoulders and rush out of the attacker's path. Arlington's paranoia, on the other hand, kept his eyes darting all about the chamber. He knew who he faced, the sword in her hand, and the way she'd aimed to cleave his head right off. His crusader's mantle nearly threw itself over his body as he raised his swords and locked weapons with his enemy.

As the power of his armor and the flames of his blades radiated off of hint, Arlington-turned-Azrael addressed her. "Nijah, how he has ruined you."

She wore a similar suit of armor to his own save for the deep black of her surcoat. The little of her skin that was visible was a burnished shade that clashed with the white of her grit teeth.

"I am alive because of him," she said. "And that will be more than I can say for you."

The open structure of the cathedral didn't leave Constantine and Sadie much space to hide from their pursuer. His long legs allowed him to close distance within breaths, and more than once Sadie was sure she'd felt him close a great hand over a hair on the back of her neck.

"Your tricks won't work in here, warlock!" The giant's voice was heavy with the full, round formation of a deep African accent. "And your smoker's lung is no good for running!"

As if prompted, Constantine let out a dry wheeze. The big man was right, he wasn't on the right turf to try picking a fight. And he was especially in no place to do it while protecting a civilian. But, as seemed to normal for him, he discovered his answer by turning to the forbidden.

"Aye, kid, look over there." With one hand Constantine pointed toward a small vestibule off to the left of the altar. The opening led off into a narrow staircase and was blocked off by a pair of poles and velvet rope. "Get to the lower level. Hide out there 'til this thing passes. Run into the catacombs if you have to."

Sadie opened her mouth, either to ask if he'd be all right or try to remark on the presence of catacombs all over France, but opted to just take his advice. She split from her brief protector, jumped the rope, and ran down into the darkness. The giant did not follow her down, he just ran at Constantine as the magician closed on the altar.

"I suppose you think that was a noble act," Gedeyon said.

"Not sure who you're mistaking me for, but I'm not the sort." Constantine reached the edge of the altar and took hold of one of a pair of the great, bejeweled candle holders.

Gedeyon frowned and then then snarled at him. "You don't mean to hit me with that, do you?"

Constantine raised the holder as if it was a metal quarterstaff. He wouldn't be able to maintain the bluff for long, the weapon was too heavy and unruly. Still, he answered with, "Why don't you come find out?"

Within the catacombs beneath Clermont-Ferrand, Cassandra sensed the end of a too-long journey. As her companion seemed to remain mentally comatose, the journey of little more than a single city block had proved arduous. She was still short on breath from the run around the boutique and all of the smoke she'd inhaled, but she'd forced the two of them free of the fire's grasp. That transition had seemed strange, as if in one moment she was still running from the blaze and the next it had been quenched. Cassandra did not look back to check on the smoke and fire, she just focused on putting one foot in front of the next. If she had turned, she would have been perplexed by the way a curtain of smoke seemed to settle at a point in the hallway and move no further. The flames and smoke that razed the clothing boutique were forbidden to slip onto holy ground.

Still, Cassandra did not feel confident about the direction they walked in. Echoes both faint and resonant bounced off the walls from some upper chamber. She feared the fainter ones were the blunt, metallic clang of swords clashed against one another. But the other was perhaps the beat of sneakers as they ran one step after the next and came ever closer.

Cassandra released the Question's hand, took a few steps closer, and assumed a defensive stance. She was about to sacrifice her silent advantage, but at least she could fight in near darkness. "Stop! Who's there?"

The patter of the shoes came to a stuttered stop. And though she still couldn't see the other person, she heard her loud and clear as she let out an exasperated call of, "Cassie?"

Cassandra slackened her stance in an instant as the shouter appeared out of the darkness and threw her arms around her. The oddity shook and froze the hero for a moment before she emulated the hug and responded, "Sadie?"

"Oh God, holy crap." Sadie's words were heavy with her short breaths. Exhilaration, exhaustion, and fear all laced her voice. "I don't even know what was going on up there."

With one hand Cassandra slipped a hold from Sadie's midsection to the back of her head. "Breath," Cassandra said. "Safe now." Even if she had no way of knowing that. "What happened?"

Though neither knew it then, the act of gentle care was the first thing the Question, still a few feet back, managed to piece together as a recognizable image.

"There—there was this guy. Gunning it fast down the road. Someone was injured and he said he had to get him inside—" Sadie paused just long enough for a few stabilizing breaths. "I don't know why, someone's out to get them, I don't even know who they are." She slipped into the explanation that had forced her to the wreck in the first place. "Just… I just wanted to do what I thought you would."

The honesty and admiration in those words gave Cassandra a brief pause of contemplation. Then she asked, "Is there a fight? Above?"

"Yeah," Sadie said. "The man in the big coat and the big guy and the Irish priest—"

Cassandra raised a hand gently to quiet her. "Stay here with my friend."

Sadie frowned. "Your friend? What? Who? Weren't you just in the middle of a burning building?"

"She pulled me out of it."

Both women turned toward the Question as she stepped into their lines of sight. Her voice was still the worse for wear and her fingers pressed tight against her temples, but she seemed to have recovered some consciousness.

Sadie got one look at her before her pupils dilated and she took a step back. "What the—did you make friends with the Slenderman in there?"

In their tones of confusion and groggy disdain respectively, Cassandra and the Question both asked, "Who?"

Before Sadie could shake herself off enough to respond, Cassandra shook her head and said, "She's a friend. Wait here with here, be back soon."

"You're not seriously about to go up there and pick a fight are you?"

Cassandra responded by running past her toward the narrow staircase back to the cathedral's ground level. The incredulity of it forced Sadie's mouth into a gape.

The Question took a few steps closer, rubbed at her forehead, and said, "Your girlfriend is brave."

"Or totally insane."

"Those two things usually go hand in hand."