Blood stained the sands of Acre and ran down into the Levantine Sea. The single day's casualties numbered dozens if not a hundred in total. Of the over seventy knights of Britain to step off the ship from Genoa, only one remained standing. The damned sand dogs who were so eager to taste the bite of his blade numbered less than a third of his force, nearly all of them laid dead in the dirt. Only one of the worms remained, but he was the one who had almost singlehandedly leveled the crusaders. In the setting sun, his opponent's cloak seemed to glow as if it was made of fire. The lone knight struggled to hold his footing but would never surrender. His opponent raised a scimitar toward him and stared with those pure, white, prophet's eyes that seemed to pierce the soul.

The one dressed in flames was not used to speaking English, but he knew enough to deliver a message. "You will live. Go back to your masters, tell them what you have seen. Tell them to leave my people be, your lives needn't be forfeit."

The knight clutched his chest and squeezed the handful of the cross-marked surcoat over his chainmail. It was difficult for him to speak, but he pressed on. "My master is greater than yours, dog of Termagant! I shall fear no evil, to die to see the Holy Land again purified is to accept sanctification!"

"The prophet, Yeshua, peace be upon him, would never wish your blade raised against mine," the flame-cloaked man said. "Cruel men corrupted his words, as they have corrupted your heart."

"You do not dare speak to me of the works of Christ, you heathen dog!" The crusader pulled a second sword of the hand of a dead comrade and raised the blades toward his opponent. "Make your peace with Mohammed now, I'll send you into the pits to join him! Deus vult!"

With the power that ran through that specter's body, he could have reduced the bullheaded fool to ash in the blink of an eye. The wrath of Allah was with him, if he so chose to use it. But Allah abhorred needless bloodshed, and perhaps if just this one fool could be convinced to tell the European kings what power laid ready to guard Jerusalem, they would end their cursed crusades.

With his scimitar clutched close to his chest, the specter prayed, "Alsalam ealaykum," and ran to meet his foe in battle again.

-000-

Sadie awoke with a terrible buzz still in the front of her head. The pain was vaguely familiar but for the most part felt like an awful new experience. She'd had her first hangover at fifteen, and that was extra rough because no one told her about keeping hydrated when drinking. Sadie slowly lifted her head off of a big, soft pillow and squinted into a dimly lit room.

"You're up."

The little jump Sadie did was only internal as she turned far enough to see Cassandra was keeping a bedside vigil. She couldn't tell where she was, but the old dresser and odd photographs atop it suggested someone's house. Sadie sat up with a groan, rubbed her temple and confirmed, "I'm up. How long was I out?"

"Two hours," Cassandra said. "How do you feel?"

"Kinda rough, I dunno." She squinted and looked back toward Cassandra. "What the heck happened back at the church?"

Cassandra clasped her hands together and looked away. She knew that Sadie wouldn't waste any time before coming to that question and had tried to put together a decent answer. Those attempts had been for naught.

"A lot. Don't know how much you really want to know." With a deep sigh, she asked, "What do you remember?"

Sadie shut her eyes tight for a moment. "Those two in the cab... a big fight inside the church… something about a demon… the Suit of Sorrows crawled onto you."

It was the last statement that made Cassandra flinch. "The… the what?"

"The Suit of—" Sadie paused and shook her head. "What the hell? Is that what it's really called?"

"Don't know," Cassandra said. "But why would you know?"

"I just saw it slip off of Arlington's body and—" Sadie recoiled and looked up at Cassandra as a few pieces slid into place. "Oh my God, you're the Angel of the Bat, aren't you?"

Cassandra's pupils dilated and her few seconds of silence suggested she was considering a lie. But, as if the words were forced out, she asked, "So now you know?"

"I mean, I've suspected for years." Sadie's chuckle was half forced, but the other half was genuine. "There are probably more Asian, pixie cut, Catholic martial artists than just you, but I've never met any of them. And parts of the suit conform to the person wearing it, that's why yours uses a big bat at the center instead of a Jerusalem Cross—" Sadie paused when Cassandra just stared at her.

After several awkward seconds, Cassandra said, "Don't know what a Jerusalem Cross is… do you?"

"A Jerusalem what? Is that like—" Sadie stopped mid-sentence and clutched at her forehead again. "Wait a sec, I literally just said those words a second ago didn't I? I—I guess it's that big red cross in the middle of those old knight costumes. But why do I know that all of a sudden?"

Cassandra saw a few tiny shakes of fear run through Sadie's arm as she held it to her head. She decided to stop asking questions and laid a hand on Sadie's shoulder. "Will be all right, whatever it is."

Sadie exhaled a deep sigh and shut her eyes. "This is really weird… where are we?"

"Empty house," Cassandra said. "Connected to the underground. Constantine—the blonde man— said owners were probably on holiday." She turned toward the door and said, "Back in a minute, okay?"

"All right." Sadie settled in the bed while Cassandra stepped out into a room she couldn't see anything of.

After a few seconds, whispers just barely audible came from the other side of the door, but Sadie couldn't discern any of what was said. Clermont-Ferrand was visible out one of the windows, so wherever the house was they hadn't gone far. She wondered if the need to stop for her had cost them precious time to cover more ground.

The thought of the strange words she'd said to Cassandra returned and the idea she was saying things she didn't think she actually knew made Sadie shudder. The Suit of Sorrows was the ancient suit of armor that had moved from Arlington's body onto Cassandra, because its powers sought out a worthy host. In spite of knowing those things, she had absolutely no memory or reading or hearing anyone ever mention any of the terms to her before. And who was Arlington? By deduction he had to be the man who died back in the church, but Sadie was sure she'd never actually heard anyone say that name aloud. So why did she not only suspect, but somehow know, beyond any doubt, that was who he was?

After Sadie had a few minutes left to ponder on her own, Cassandra opened the bedroom door. If Sadie's memory had been worse and her condition normal, Cassandra would have told a small lie for her safety. But with what the young woman already knew and the strange words that came out of her mouth, it seemed that wouldn't work.

Cassandra asked, "Can you stand?"

"I'll try." Sadie rolled over to the side of the bed and pushed herself off. After a few seconds of wooziness, she was straight up. And after taking a quick assessment of her person, she looked up at Cassandra with a smirk. "Did you have fun taking my jeans off?"

Blood rushed into Cassandra's cheeks and she looked away. "Wanted to make sure you weren't hurt, and you'd wake up comfortable."

"That's nice, but it doesn't answer my question." Sadie stepped into the pair of pants from earlier in the night and considered a few other things she could tease Cassandra about. Before anything more could come, however, she asked, "So, um, what happens next?"

"We go out." Cassandra referred to the door. "The others are waiting."

A few short feet of hallway outside the bedroom led to a small den. The two strange companions from earlier in the night sat in a pair of leather chairs. In the middle of the room was a settee where Cassandra's phone sat with a faint light emanating from its center. Opposite their allies was a loveseat that Cassandra led Sadie to, still concerned for her balance.

Sadie squinted at the Question as she sat down. "Hey, you still need to wear the mask in here, Blanca?"

The Question proved capable of an uncanny ability to shown a scowl under her mask. Thick with annoyance, she asked, "Was that another reference?"

"Okay, that makes sense. You probably wouldn't sound so stressed out if you played more Animal Crossing."

From the phone in the center of the room came the sound of a clearing throat. "Let's get our focus back to the task at hand, agreed?" The speaker's voice of deep and seemed laced with authority.

Sadie's look moved instantly to the phone's dull glow. She leaned toward Cassandra and asked, "Uh, so is that—"

Cassandra took an extra moment to consider an answer and said, "My boss."

"Wow."

"That's Sadie Leach then, I take it," the baritone of the Batman said. "Thank you for joining us."

"You- you know me?" As she said it, Sadie couldn't shake the feeling she'd most certainly heard that voice before, but bit her tongue to keep from questioning it aloud.

"Cassandra has mentioned you a few times over the years," he said. "And I understand you're holding one of the cornerstones of this whole situation. Can you tell me any more about that?"

Constantine and the Question both cast their gazes on her and blood rushed to Sadie's cheeks. "I mean, I don't really get what's going on myself. Words have come to me a couple times, I can fill in some blanks without even thinking about it, but I'm not sure I can make that stuff happen on command." She let out an exasperated groan. "I can't even think of a good metaphor. I guess it's like when you know you've forgotten something, but you can't figure out what."

Constantine, who by then had a hand over his mouth in concentration, raised it to attract attention. "You need your memory jogged? How about this then, who was Father Day?"

The words came fast, as if Sadie's reaction was involuntary. "He's one of the leaders with the Nephilim."

Batman asked, "Nephilim?"

"They're what's left of the Knights Templar," Sadie said. "Them and a few other splinters. The Order of Saint Dumas, the Order of Cantonna—" she froze in the midst of her recitation, bent forward and clutched her forehand in one hand. "Oh God, I sound like some kind of conspiracy theory nutcase right now, don't I?"

For the first time since they'd gathered, some kernel of comfort reached the Question's voice. "Are we up against enemies who think the same way you're talking right now?"

"Oh yeah. I guess I'm still sifting through some of the details, but the Order of Nephilim? Arlington at least seemed to think that's who we're dealing with."

"I've faced off with cultists and killers before," the Question said. "It's helpful to have someone around who knows how they think."

Something like half of a smile crossed Sadie's face and Cassandra gave her a reassuring squeeze on one shoulder.

Constantine counted off the bits of new information. "So Arlington was part of one group of Templars killed by another group of Templars." He shrugged. "Doesn't surprise me. And he was trying to reach some old ally of his, but we were sidetracked out here."

Sadie tapped her head as a new frustration crossed her mind. "I don't know how Arlington was tricked into coming here. But if he's still alive, he's in Vatican City."

Cassandra's heart skipped both an excited and fearful beat. "Vatican City?"

"Of course." Constantine rolled his eyes. "Actually, it does. The whole place is holy ground. Demons and faerie magic don't work there."

"You've mentioned fair folk a few times on this call, John," the baritone on the phone said. "What makes you so sure that's what you're up against?"

"It's my line of work to know these things, Bats." Constantine scoffed. "That's like asking you if you know what a clown looks like. You spend enough time around the fae and you learn to pick up on them, even if we're talking about changelings or whatnot."

As the two went back and forth on the matter, pain slowly crossed through the forefront of Sadie's mind. With one hand clutched to her forehead, she raised the other and said, "Ugh, hey, team, hopping around in someone else's memories has been fun and all, but I think it's starting to drain on me. I think I'd better call that my question quota for the night and lay back down."

Cassandra pulled Sadie into a half hug, which she accepted, and kissed her on the forehead. "You did great."

Constantine nodded his ascent, from the phone Batman said, "All right, I'll discuss the rest with the others, including your best way of getting to Rome, if you truly believe you need to get to Arlington's mentor."

From the opposite side of the den, the Question laid a hard foot down on the wooden floor and drew everyone's eyes to her. "Hold it, one more thing." When Sadie and Cassandra remained in place, the Question went on. "I came here in the first place in search of an old friend of mine. I fought one of those cultists before he set fire to the underground. I want to know if Arlington knew anything about a man named Crispin Allen."

"Let me see." Sadie rested her chin on an open palm, closed her eyes, and began her search. The fact than an answer hadn't instantly come to the tip of her tongue was a concern, but she shifted through Arlington's recollections nonetheless. The name did sound faintly familiar, she was sure of that much.

As she mentally wandered, an eerie chill ran down Sadie's spine. The familiarity with the name hadn't just been imagined, Arlington did seem to know something more. The anomaly, as strange as it was to consider, was there seemed to be a tear in the knight's knowledge. Not a block as if it was being suppressed, not a hole as if it was simply missing, but the feel of flayed, torn images as if they had been cut and forcibly ripped out. And without even knowing they had once been there seconds before, Sadie felt an almost violating absence at the emptiness.

At last, with her headache worsening, she said, "I'm sorry, I think he did know something, but whatever it was, I think the guy with the spear might have ripped it out of him."

The Question gave her a solemn nod and turned away. With a pat on the back from Cassandra, Sadie rose from her seat and allowed herself to be guided back toward the bedroom she'd first stepped out of. As Cassandra slid the door shut, Sadie let out an exasperated groan. "I'm trying my best here, I really am, but this—well nothing in cultural studies class back home prepared me for this."

"Doing your best," Cassandra said. "Even when no one asked you to." After a short hesitation, Cassandra worked up the will to ask, "Where do you want me tonight?"

"Huh?" Sadie frowned. "I kinda assumed you were sleeping with me. We've slept together every other night since you got out here."

The cavalier reaction wasn't what Cassandra had been preparing herself for. "You didn't know I'd been lying then."

Her girlfriend had to turn the statement over in her head for a few seconds before she replied, "What, about the superhero thing?"

Cassandra nodded.

Sadie maintained a noncommittal look for a few seconds before a smile crept across her face and she laughed. "Are you joking?"

A blush ran across Cassandra's cheeks and she looked away. "No."

"You're one of the biggest ass-kickers in all of Gotham! I thought you were just insane for doing stuff like running into that fire back there. But you aren't crazy, you're experienced!"

The red still ran across Cassandra's cheeks, but a smile formed to accompany it. "But I still had to lie—"

"Yeah, but you didn't just lie, you had to lie, big difference." Over another laugh, Sadie reached out and rubbed a hand against Cassandra's back. "You've probably pissed off a lot of bad guys around the city. You must be doing something right if it hasn't come home to roost any quicker than this."

Of the many ways Cassandra had envisioned this inevitable conversation, she'd never anticipated this one. In the years they'd spent together, Sadie had complimented her for plenty. Cassandra was always happy to be praised for being kind, open to whatever new thing Sadie felt like doing, and being a good listener. And, apparently, she was a good kisser, which must have come naturally. But Sadie had never really expressed admiration of that kind before.

"Funny," Cassandra said. "Stephanie was only one to call me cool before."

"Wait a sec- Steph knows?"

Cassandra laid a hand firmly over her mouth as if to keep more words from stumbling out. "Forget that." It had eluded her that just because Sadie knew one secret she didn't nearly know them all. "We should rest."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

After some searches through the bedroom's one dresser, the two each settled into the bed in a pair of oversized night gowns. Sadie flicked off the light as they settled into bed. It was still strange to Sadie to be literally sleeping with someone she wasn't figuratively sleeping with, but she couldn't say she didn't like being snuggled up with her. Especially at a time like that one.

"Cassie?" Sadie asked.

"Yes?"

"We'll get through this thing, won't we?"

Cassandra rolled to face Sadie and placed a small kiss on her lips. "Whatever happens, I'll look out for you."

A few seconds and a few sleepy breaths later, Sadie said, "Cassie?"

"Yes?"

"If there's anything else you've had to keep from me, I'm ready to listen. I promise I won't be upset."

Cassandra kissed her again but said nothing more. Another night, that one had been long enough already.