John watched as a young couple of their late teens were kissing on a couch in the corner, she had flowing blonde hair while he had a blonde punk cut. They kissed passionately not caring or knowing that the exorcist was watching.
October 1990
"Love me?"
"Not even remotely."
Aaron and Judith kept making out in the apartment's hall to the discomfort of Sean who was trying to read John Milton's Paradise Lost.
"Knock it off, you two. It's time to roll." said John as he emerged from his room.
The crew walked to The Brujaverd Club, they weren't planning on doing anything tonight, just to stake the place out, and see if there were any truth to the rumors.
There was a line at the door, and Judith was of great help as the renowned clubber got herself and the rest of the crew in.
There was nothing special about the Club as John said, just another club still clinging dearly to the golden '80s, Billy Idol was blaring through the speakers.
"Sean and I will take a look backstage," said John, "Aaron, go talk to Logue. Anne, you try to get a good reading of the place. Ben, see if you spot any pagan structures, Judith, you just stay put."
"Look John, why don't you go talk to Logue?" asked Aaron.
"I don't feel like dealing with the likes of him"
"Me neither, but It would be a lot more convincing if you talked to him about getting our band a gig in here."
John looked long and hard at his friend, he could sense that wasn't all of it, but he obliged anyway.
"Fine, you and Sean go look backstage, try and spot something' fishy."
Aaron and Sean were snooping around the backstage as Constantine told them; they were looking for hidden chambers or out of place characters but couldn't find any.
"Hey you,"
Sean spun to look at the source of the voice; a long haired man in raggedy clothes.
"Me?" "Yeah you, the one with the tattoos, what are you doing here"
"Well... us..."
"Wait a minute; you're the roadey, right?"
Aaron poked Sean in the arm, telling him to go with the flow.
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, come on then, get our stuff into the van."
"I'll meet you inside in fifteen minutes." whispered Aaron as he head the other way.
John was allowed into Logue's office, a bouncer stood near the door preparing to flatten the young musician out if needed.
Ales Logue was a New Age man of his fifties, his hair was chestnut brown, round glasses were on his eyes and he was dressed in bright clothes reminiscent of the long gone sixties. At the moment he was smoking grass from a drag-pipe.
"So, what do you want Mr"
"Constantine, John Constantine. I-"
"Constantine, Constantine, Constantine," muttered Logue, "What kind of name is Constantine? Where you from"
"It's Greek, My family traveled through Greece, Ireland and settled here in the forties"
"So, what do you want?"
John was looking at the shelves behind him, he noticed that some books were slightly displaced, indicating they were very recently read, the titles gave off much of what he expected.
"Well you see, I've got a band with a couple of friends of mine, and we've been hoping to play here some time"
"What do you do?" asked Logue as he took consecutive drags from his bong.
"Punk rock, mostly"
"What do you call yourselves"
"Mucous Membrane."
"Mucous Membrane, that's good, I mean it's awful but catchy. Sounds familiar though"
"They played here seven months ago." said the bouncer.
"They did? Now I remember you," said Logue and then cackled manically, "Man, you guys were terrible."
Constantine was slightly offended, "I'm sure if you give us a second chance, and our drummer has quit drinking"
"One of your groups is sober and you call yourselves musicians? No chance kid. You won't be playing here."
Aaron saw a small frail figure as he wandered backstage, it rushed into a washroom, and Aaron followed.
"Wait," he said to the little girl who stood in the middle of the poorly lit bathroom, she was of eleven years old and had chestnut brown hair, "I'm not going to hurt you."
Aaron approached the little girl, but she backed away in fear, so he opted to give her some space and tried to speak kindly and softly, "What's your name?"
There was a long pause before the girl spoke in a voice muffled from crying, "Astra."
"I thought so."
Aaron was silent for a little while and smiled to reassure her, but all he managed to do was get her to run out the washroom.
"Astra, wait."
He stepped to the corridor outside and realized that Astra was gone.
"So what did you find out?" John asked, "Ben?"
The prodigy lit a cigarette as he spoke, "There were pentagrams carved into the corners and covered in red paint, also there were some carvings on the ceiling similar to some star constellations that are related to Demon Rituals I'm familiar with."
"Anne?"
Anne-Marie adjusted her glasses and said, "You were right, John. Something rotten is going on in that place; I could almost see them..."
"Sean?"
"I heard staff members talk about something going down tonight."
"Aaron?"
Aaron wasn't willing to mention Astra, not yet.
"I've got nothing John."
John knew that wasn't exactly true, but decided to let it slide for the time being.
"Alright, tomorrow we'll be getting into the bottom of this."
Choosing to wait till tomorrow proved to be the wrong thing to do, as it was reported that screams and fowl odors were heard and smelt in the final hours of the night, coming from no where other than the Brujaverd Club.
Great burden settled on the Crew as they felt that they were in some way responsible for whatever travesty that took place last night, if they had only been a little early or more attentive; perhaps the outcome would have differed.
Aaron seemed to be of more Grief than others, and John was eaten by guilt too, but the leaders of the pack weren't ready to throw in the towel yet. They decided to exorcise the club anyway.
As the sun was setting, the six of them headed to the Club, which was closed and smelt of an awful stench. Sean carried a sport bag and led the way as they head to the back ally, once they were there, Sean pulled a sawn off shot gun out of the sports bag and handed the bag to John, then shot the lock and kicked open the door.
A gust beyond anyone's imagination erupted fro within that almost knocked them to the ground, as their face convulsed and their eyes tear, they noticed that the air had color; it wasn't a normal odor then.
They walked into the club and onto the dance floor, tables were tossed on their sides, drinks and food were spilt on the floor, shattered glass and puke were on the couches.
"Something horribly wrong happened here," said Anne.
"Thank you Mrs. State-the-Obvious." Judith barked.
"Not now," said John as he lit a cigarette and took nervous puffs.
"Hey John," said Ben as he was crouched by one of the walls, "There is a cellar door here"
"I know Ben"
"..And the smell is coming from here."
"Where now?" asked Sean, not comfortable with the eerie silence.
"As Tolkin said; When in doubt, follow your nose. Let's see what's behind the cellar."
With shot nerves and growing tension, the crew descended down the stairs to the cellar to where the stench was growing, it had lessened by now after the club's doors were opened.
Down the dark stairs they went, shrouded in blackness, the only light came form behind them, till they reached the bottom and stood in the basement. Judith pulled out a torch and turned it on, the intense light hurt their eyes a bit and it took them some time till their eyes adjusted to the light and they saw a sight that would stick with them for the rest of their lives.
Carved pentagrams and melted candles covered the floor, on which the remains of Alex Logue and his circle of Mystic swingers, reduced to shattered bones, puddles of flesh, severed heads and bloody internal organs.
The Crew stared at the carnage in fascination, like a group of bystanders staring at a car accident, only a hundred folds more horrid.
Piercing Sounds of tearing flesh and roaring screams blared through the club suddenly, alerting the group and causing them to snap out of it.