The Next unto Lucifer
By Dane Lurex
But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, fear him.
Luke 12:5
"I'm John Constantine, asshole. And I will deport your sorry ass back to hell," John said as he entered the strangely lit room. The half breed within turned around and met John's gaze, his eyes glowing dangerously red. He took a couple of steps towards John looking like a cat sneaking closer to it's prey
"Well, Mr. Constantine," the half breed almost purred innocently completely ignoring John's opening line
"I no longer matter, so by all means be my guest," he continued as he spread his arms out and exposed his chest as a welcoming gesture.
John, looking like he had pulled several all-night's in a row mumbled a few inaudible words to himself and put out his latest cigarette.
Why couldn't it ever just be simple, John sighed to himself. He hated this. Now he was forced to why the half breed didn't matter anymore and he quite frankly he didn't fancy that.
The half breed sensed John's hesitation and smiled, pleased with himself.
"I got your attention didn't I? -got you wondering," the half breed's smile widened and he put down his arms again. He demonstratively looked around the room and acted as if he was surprised.
"Why, Mr. Constantine," he began teasingly, "- haven't you seen the fire burning in the middle of the room? Or the symbols painted on the floor? Or what about the black bible?" the half breed was truly enjoying himself as he showed the thing to John, holding it up so he could see it was real.
The scariest part of it was that John actually hadn't seen the obvious signs. The half breed laughed triumphantly.
"It is not every day that a half breed such as myself get to see the Great John Constantine speechless," he was robbing it in slow and John was making a mental note to make the half breed deportation as painful as possible as he clenched his fist in anger.
"This is just too fucking great," John commented dryly, "- who was it?"
"Yes, it is very great," he answered and stole a glance at John as he continued, " – now that the Prince of Demons walks this plane." To his disappointment John didn't flinch at all, when he heard the name. He just kept starring at the half breed, who walked back and forth within the symbol upon the floor, looking as if he was the lion in the cave.
"Who?" John asked harshly. The bastard had called somebody to this plane and he couldn't even call someone that one would know. The half breed stopped and looked at John shocked and then shook his head.
"If you do not known who the Prince of Demons are, you are not worthy of knowing this great name," the half breed couldn't hide his disappointment " And they call you the Great John Constantine," he said as if John should be ashamed.
Before John had time to react the half breed folded his hands and mumbled a few words that John couldn't work out and before John knew it, the half breed had deported himself and disappeared in an explosion of dust. John kept looking into the air, where the half breed stood, mentally slapping himself for being too damned slow.
The Prince of Demons, John thought to himself and searched his memory ignoring the dust that filled the air around him. It didn't ring a bell and he was beginning to think that the half breed was bluffing. However, the look in his eyes seemed genuine enough. John sighed, why couldn't it ever just be simple? He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He sighed once more - it was time to pay Gabriel a visit.
The Prince of Demons. Whatever it was it didn't sound too good.
John walked back out on the silent street in the dark night, where Chas was parked in his yellow cab. John got in it and found Chas asleep on the steering wheel. He hadn't even heard the door slam.
Gently John shook Chas' shoulder and he gradually came back to the real world. John was a little worried about the kid – he didn't get enough sleep and it had been a couple of trying days.
"Home?" Chas asked sleepy.
"Yes, home," John replied and took the last drag on his cigarette and put it out. John lost himself in thought and Chas was too tired to keep up his usual abuse of words.
"Do you know who the Prince of Demons is?" John asked, breaking the silence and tried making it as casual as possible. He never liked not knowing whom he was dealing with and even less liked knowing that Chas probably knew.
"Yeah, that is one ugly motherfucker," answered, too tired to notice at first. John thought for a second that he had gotten away with it, before...
"Wait, wait," Chas laughed, "-you mean to tell me that you don't know who the Prince of Demons is?" he continued, his spirit back in action and his smile wide. John just looked out the window, which Chas saw looking in the mirror. His jaw dropped in surprise.
"No way, John." Chas turned around and looked properly at John. "And you call yourself a catholic," he said turning back to the road and shook his head.
"Well, who is he?" John asked again, his patience wearing thin on him.
"It was in his name that Jesus was denied, John. You really should know this," John finally remembered something, but didn't quite believe in it himself.
"It can't be Lucifer?" John asked carefully.
"No, John. The next unto Lucifer!"
"Beelzebub!" he said mostly to himself.
"Bingo! You are definitely tired. You should get some sleep," Chas answered anyway.
"Shit," John just said, not paying Chas any attention as they stopped outside John's building.