They were in bed, propped up against the pillows. The sheets were tangled around their legs, still damp from their efforts. Constantine set the open bottle of Cabernet on the nightstand, his free arm going around Elizabeth's shoulders. Her breathing began to slow, grow normal again.
She leaned against him, her head laid back against his shoulder. Constantine watched the remaining beads of sweat dry quickly on her skin. She was beautiful, her hair mussed from his hands, her lips swollen from so many kisses.
Unconsciously she began to trace the tattooed marks with the tip of her fingernail.
"You'll get used to those." He took a long pull from the wine bottle.
"Where is the fetish charm?" she slowly turned her head and looked back, up at him. John gave away nothing with his expression. "John, where is the fetish Midnite gave you?"
Constantine paused for a moment. She had a right to know. And as his wife, he would have no secrets from her. Slowly, he let his hand slide down her arm, over the boar tusk bracelets, down her ribs, to the right side of her abdomen. He closed his eyes and focused the energy, pressing gently. The small charm was right under his fingers, buried inside her.
Elizabeth looked at him, the confusion in her now-dark eyes. "You… you trapped my soul in the fetish?"
John laid his palm over what had once been the mortal wound. "You feel it."
"I…" her eyes flicked closed and he felt as she cast her own energy towards what rested under his hand. "Before I felt like my soul was in the center of me, where my heart was. Now I feel confined to a cage, a round prison, no longer in my core."
"God wasn't getting you. Not after all this, not after such a short time, not after He gave me the one person that could actually love... me." John didn't care that his tone was bitter; he was angry. He'd finally opened to someone, loved someone and then God had spit in his face and tried to take it all away again. "I played my last card and screwed up His play." He pulled his hand away, picking the bottle back up.
"If I die again, my soul is trapped in that fetish."
Constantine stared at the wooden shutters before taking another drink. "We'll deal with it when that time comes."
Elizabeth said nothing, just pulled his arm around her closer, placing his hand over the center of her chest and holding it there. He could faintly feel the beating of her heart through the wall of her chest and it comforted him. She was still here, still on this side of reality. With him. She settled back into the curve of his arm, her cheek resting against his chest. Constantine set the wine bottle down and turned the bedside lamp off. He took up her other hand in his, interlocking their fingers tightly.
They watched the sunrise, blood red and golden orange, through the shutters.
