In the chapel above, after Constantine's third thrust to the midsection, Gedeyon lost his patience. With a shout of, "Enough!" he reached forward, tore the candle holder from Constantine's grip, and threw it aside as if it was a hollow plastic toy.

Constantine swallowed and tried to keep the altar between them. "That isn't normal human strength. What are you then? An ogre with his glamour up?"

"It doesn't matter what I am," Gedeyon said. "Just what I do."

Constantine took mental note of that. A purely magical creature would still have access to its powers, even on holy ground. So whatever the giant was, maybe even whatever the giant identified as, couldn't be wholly supernatural. There were a few explanations that could suit that situation, if he could only—

His train of thought was derailed when Gedeyon leapt atop the altar, jumped, and knocked the magician to the ground.

Azrael witnessed the attack out the corner of his eye, broke from his latest clash with Nijah, and shouted, "John!"

With the momentary distraction Nijah threw a slash into the side of Arlington's armor. The bite cut through his surcoat and under layer, and the holy warrior shouted in pain as a hot flash of cold steel ripped across the side of his stomach.

"You chose your ally poorly." Nijah kept on the offensive as laid into Azrael with renewed fervor.

He retook his defense fast, but it was clear his battle with the demon outside and the fresh cut were taking their toll. His blazing swords had been a worthy defense, but he hadn't managed to slash Nijah with them even once.

As their duel continued, Father Gallagher slowly approached, his voice deepened by conviction. "Father Day sought to sell us out to this sinful earth, Abraham. The Eldest of the Nephilim knows the way, just as the men who wore that suit long before you did. You are unworthy of its power."

With grit teeth, Azrael said, "And yet it has not abandoned me. The Suit of Sorrows still—"

The brief distraction to speak was all Nijah needed. She raised her sword arm, still locked with Azrael, pulled a dagger from her belt, and plunged it into his stomach. On another day, the armor Arlington wore could have at least put up a better fight. But its powers drew from the present as well as the past. The battle with the demon and the discovery Father Day was not there, perhaps even dead, had inched him ever closer to despair. And without his faith to feed on, the armor weakened enough to allow Nijah's dagger to tear deep into his gut. With the taste of blood in his mouth, Azrael fell to his knees.

"The Eldest will make far better use of that armor than The Order of Purity ever could." Nijah gripped her sword in both hands, intent on a killing blow.

There came a shout from across the chapel that forced her attention outward in confusion. Nijah had perhaps expected the cry of the British warlock when Gedeyon finished him off. But that deep, hoarse shout was, without question, from the giant himself.

With all of his weight and attention on Constantine, Gedeyon hadn't even heard the patter of a run as it came at him. The reality of a new enemy in the fray only occurred to him when he felt a force, small but hard like a bullet, deliver a front snap kick to his chin. The giant relinquished his grip on Constantine, fell backwards, and leered a single eye toward whatever had just floored him.

Cassandra knelt by Constantine's side. "Hope you're one of the good guys."

The magician wheezed with a hand to his windpipe as he said, "Guess I hope the same for you."

From her place in the room's center, Nijah demanded, "How many of them are there?"

With the momentary distraction, Arlington pushed back to his feet and ran in Cassandra and Constantine's direction.

"Are you slowing down there, Gedeyon?" Nijah's words were laced with spite. "That girl is smaller than I am."

"Nijah!" Gallagher shouted to shake her from her critique. "The target, focus on the target!"

Gedeyon recovered his footing as he rubbed at his chin. "A lucky strike, little girl." He said. "But you couldn't hit me like that again."

While Cassandra stared him down, Azrael felt a wash of renewed hope rush through him. With his eyes to the young woman who had selflessly thrown herself into the fight, he ran toward Constantine and said, "To the catacombs, like you said before."

As Arlington rushed past him, Constantine scowled in his direction. "What, and leave this kid to fight that monster herself? You damned coward—"

As Constantine called out his disapproval, Cassandra closed the distance between herself and Gedeyon, her small, quick body easily evaded his clutches. When she was within her own grasping range, Cassandra hammered into him with a quick, furious series of strikes to the chest. Each one ripped and beat the giant's pressure-points to acupuncture numbness, and with a final, decisive palm to his sternum, Cassandra knocked him to the floor in an agonized screech.

For just a moment, Constantine was stopped in wonder for the girl. He could believe such a display from a fae, but then its true nature would have been revealed within the church. And if she utilized any kind of magical power, it wouldn't mean a thing on holy ground. For a moment he mused she could be cybernetic or alien, but somehow he just didn't believe it. He shook his head hard and made for the narrow staircase behind Arlington. That matter would have to wait for another time.

Nijah glared toward Cassandra as the younger woman stepped beside the entrance to the catacombs to serve as its protector. The crusader in black cast a glare at the silver cross that hung around her neck. "We shouldn't be enemies," Nijah said. "Not if you're a believer yourself."

Cassandra cast a leer of her own at the great red cross down Nijah's surcoat. "Knew a man who wore a cross like that," she said. "Believed the only way to save people was to kill the sinners."

"Nijah!" Gallagher called as he ran to the floored Gedeyon. "Now is not the time to be wasting on conversation!"

She ignored the chaplain. "We're not out to kill them, not if we don't have to." Nijah shook her head. "There are other ways to save a soul. But first it has to believe it needs saving. That's what the Eldest of the Nephilim teaches us."

With Constantine and Arlington past her, Cassandra ran at the staircase, Nephilim, Seraphim, she didn't care what the crusaders called themselves.

Constantine turned just enough to face the get a moment's eye contact with Arlington and Cassandra. "Once we cross the church's threshold, I'll be able to use my magic again. I can, dunno, start up a haze or lay an illusion on the walls. Whatever will work best for getting out of here."

"There's one place more I must go," Arlington said. "Father Day isn't here, I don't know what's become of him yet, but his cache might still be secure."

"Cache?" Constantine scoffed. "There's a cache now? Are you beginning to regret telling me literally nothing of this little adventure, because I regretted accepting it an hour ago!"

Cassandra heard every word from the back of the formation, but as little as the words meant to Constantine, they meant even less to her. So she just asked, "Is there time?"

"I need to make the time, little guardian angel."

The wording gave Cassandra pause for a split second, but then pushed down the thoughts she encountered. The man in white was a stranger, he surely had no idea who she was.

Just after the descent the three came to a small alcove in the dusty underground where Sadie and the Question waited. Beyond the mouth of the cavern the underground split off into three different directions.

"That was quick. In a good way." Sadie opened her arms and Cassandra rushed into them. After just a moment of the embrace, she asked, "Do we need to get running again?"

"I need just a moment," Arlington said. "Buy it for me, if you need to."

Cassandra and Constantine both turned back the way they'd come with some reluctance. Despite the open opportunity, it appeared neither Nijah nor Gedeyon were on their trail. Regardless of the fierce chaos that had taken place back in the chapel, the space seemed almost completely silent.

Arlington felt all along the opposite wall in the indents designed for candles in the years before electricity. A series of winding passages beneath the cathedral served as a cemetery for Clermont-Ferrand's beloved dead back through the centuries. But it wasn't the way into their tombs he felt for.

Along the ancient, crumbling walls was a small indentation, just the same as the Question had seen on the wine cask, just the same as the cross Arlington wore on his chest. It was a simple yet elegant entryway into an old Templar antechamber. Arlington knew if the cathedral was compromised, there was a chance it was too. But he held out hope. If the secrets within were secure, it would all be worth it. With the entryway into pitch darkens open, Arlington ran inside.

"Father Day!" he called. "Father Day, are you hiding in here? I've come to rescue you, I've come to—"

A length of wood and metal rushed through the black before Arlington could make it out. The weapon's tip sparked with light for an instant before it pierced armor and flesh all at once. All of the breath rushed out of the holy warrior's lungs as his cross's symbolic red melded with a spray out from his heart. With a yank of chain from its unseen thrower, the spear in Arlington's chest whipped back into the darkness of the antechamber. Slowly and softly, the assailant within began to sing.

"Da pacem, Domine, in diebus nostris."

Cassandra and Constantine were the first to catch up to their companion as he crumpled backward into a bloody heap. Cassandra stifled a shout of despair, Constantine failed to do so with a, "Bloody hell!"

"Quia non est alius."

Both cast a look into the black passageway, but could discern nothing of the singer. Constantine spoke first. "I've seen what Abe's armor can do, I'm not fighting something that can crack it like that. Not right here, not right now."

"So help me." Cassandra knelt and lifted one of Arlington's arms over her shoulder. "It's time to go."

The spear leapt like a panther out of the darkness again, this time it bit right through Constantine's coat and cut a slash into his upper arm.

"Bastard!" Constantine keeled forward and heard the echoing steps and soft song of whatever hid within the darkness.

"Qui pugnet pro nobis."

"You guys just keep getting into these messes tonight."

Both of them turned as Sadie closed the distance between herself and Cassandra, lifted Arlington's opposite arm over her frame and said, "Let's get outta here already!"

Without the burden of the bloody Arlington, Constantine was able to run out ahead of them. At the unseen threshold that marked the end of holy ground, he uttered a relieved, exhausted sigh.

Despite the way she was weighed down, Cassandra still managed to tell Sadie, "Thank you."

"It's what you'd have done," she said. "I can saay that literally now."

"Such noble children, both of you are." Arlington wheezed out a mouthful of blood and tried his best to keep pace with his feet, an arduous task despite the support.

"We're not out of the woods yet, bud," Sadie said. "Save your praise."

Behind the three, the steps and soft song of the spearman picked up speed. "Nisi tu Deus noster."

In the opposite direction, at the convergence of the three outward caverns, Constantine stood beside the Question and appeared to draw invisible symbols on the wall. Eyes squinted beneath the mask, she asked him, "What are you doing?"

"The only thing I know how to, at the moment." When his charge and the two women passed him, Constantine thrust his palm into the wall where he'd drawn shapes a few seconds before. Instantly a wall of thick, magical mist fell across the threshold like a curtain. With one finger up to his lips, Constantine commanded, "Shhh," and motioned his companions toward the cavern on the left.

Though no one got a good look at their pursuer, he saw what appeared to be the outlines of the five as they dashed down the catacomb to the right. It was a last trick Constantine could employee and, he judged from the growing distance of his footsteps, he'd fallen for it.

"Sucker," Constantine said. "Right, let's be off then."

His companions were fast behind him. Or, at least in the case of Cassandra, Sadie, and Arlington, as fast as they could manage. The power within the Suit of Sorrows seeped out like Arlington's blood. The spear had not simply pierced his chest, but also robbed the crusader of his connection to its power. He kept up with his two saviors as best he could, but soon enough his legs crumpled. Cassandra and Sadie both tripped as Arlington's dead weight brought them down.

"Crap, crap!" Sadie lost her balance and hit the floor next to him.

"Losing him." Cassandra turned toward Constantine and the Question. "Anything you can do? Either?"

"No, no." Arlington uttered a harsh, bloody wheeze. "It's too late for me. His spear— the Eldest—" he was interrupted by another crimson cough. When he spoke again his voice was harsh and ragged, but as he looked between Cassandra and Sadie, he tried to instill his words with all the gentleness he could. "You two... you knew nothing of me and you still rushed to help. Thank you."

"Hey, come on, man." Sadie tried to put up a tough front, but between the wound and Arlington's words, it was hard for her to maintain her composure. "Don't talk like that. We— we can still—"

Cassandra knelt and held Arlington's right hand as a convulsion wracked through his body. On the outside, she was stable, but no matter how many times she'd seen sights like this one, she never truly adjusted to this part.

"Please… please forgive me." Arlington's words were twisted by his agony. "I'm sorry to leave you with my burden."

Sadie double-took at the word choice. She could believe his were just the rambled words of a dying man, but something in them frightened her. "What… what burden?"

Cassandra also took note, rose, and took a step backwards. "What are you—"

"It is a terrible yoke to bear," Arlington said with great struggle. "But God led you here, I am sure of it. And God does not make mistakes. What memories and instructions I can, I leave now to you."

Before Cassandra could ask what he meant, a fantastic light shined off of Arlington's armor. The mass of plating and the crusader's shirt looked to melt off of his body, curl around and then meld into her arm. The dazzling light ran up and down Cassandra's body from her neck to her fingers and toes. Cassandra looked down at her arms as her size dissipated, as if the glow had consumed her clothes and clung like a second skin. As the shine faded from Sadie, she yelped and covered her eyes. As Cassandra turned, Constantine and the Question did the same. A few seconds after the gleam settled, it reshaped itself again and increased in density. Cassandra tried to hide her confusion and disgust as the shimmering layer began to dissipate and left her hands covered in a black substance. It was only after half of a minute of looking over herself as the black moved up her arms and legs she realized it felt like Kevlar. It slowly dawned upon her as it finished that it didn't feel all that different from the costume she usually wore for nights on patrol, save for the countless tiny abrasions that made it look more like chainmail than a modern, bulletproof suit. For just a moment, the glow relented.

Cassandra's heart sank as she felt it flow, reinvigorated, toward her neck. Somehow, she suspected what was coming, even if she shouldn't have been able to. The light blazed white hot as it descended down her chest, split at her waist and the two halves extended slightly over her upper legs. The shine settled into a white surcoat and a thin line ran down from her sternum to the bottom of her abdomen. The glow opened like a book and formed a huge bat, colored in gold, decorated like stained glass. The bat symbol served as the surcoat's Jerusalem Cross, with the same white cross of Cassandra's Angel costume formed within it.

Perhaps it was the spear's power diluting the armor's effects. Or maybe, in his heart, Arlington knew he owed more than one worthy savior that night. Or maybe, like the master it served, the Suit of Sorrows worked in mysterious ways. Whatever the reason, one small sliver of its power flittered away from the rest of the conjured armor like burning paper flying to ashes.

Sadie didn't know why she did what she did. It was just pure instinct to be helpful in a terrible situation, and she certainly didn't know if the glow would be lost forever if she waited another moment. On that assumption, Sadie reached out and grabbed ahold of the severed shard of Arlington's glow. As the ethereal force blanketed the entire church in its bright glow, Nijah finally turned and made her escape as the power of Azrael flowed into the two women knelt at Arlington's side. Sadie's eyes went wide, her pupils dilated, and she collapsed onto the dusty floor.

Barely recovered from the light's own effect on her, Cassandra reached down and shook her. "Not now—wake up, wake up!" Though Sadie's breathing remained constant, she showed no signs of regaining consciousness. With a hard swallow, Cassandra turned toward the Question and Constantine. "Need to leave, now. And get her somewhere safe. Please!"

-000-

On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean laid another witness of the night's events. He knew very little of the specifics, everything he had seen he beheld through something of a psychic second hand account. And, contrary to the shimmer that consumed the catacombs, he was alone in total darkness.

He pulled his jacket over his face and beat at the wood over him with his bare hands. His incredible power wouldn't be necessary for this escape, he'd specifically requested a cheap coffin for that very reason.

The coat over his head blocked off the dirt that fell upon him when he smashed a hole in the casaket's door. With the first step complete, he began his slow, swim-like ascent through six feet of rock and dirt.

His breaths were hard and labored when he came to the surface under the Chicago moon, but he had been through far worse. He'd never expected to be back there, but if life and death had taught him anything, it was that the world always had another twist to live through.

Are you well then? The voice that, no matter how close it sounded, was not his own, asked. It seems Caraka and Sekuba are far ahead of us.

"I came with you because you told me it seemed no one else was better suited to face them. And so that is what we'll do, wherever we go and whatever it takes."

I hope you will forgive me for asking this of you once again, Jim.

"Well, it's not as if I have much choice in that matter, now do I?"

The one man with two voices dusted the dirt from his green coat, was satisfied with how quickly his skin seemed to have reformed, and headed toward the city. To O'Hare International, if he could still get a ticket to France. In the morning, the local caretaker and later the authorities would wonder with horror and wonder just who had desecrated the grave of Jim Corrigan.