Chapter Eight
John laid behind them, tied securely to Solitaire's bed. He had a fever, and the clothes he wore were sticking to him. They had managed to cut the shirt off him, but his black trouser had proven almost impossible to remove. He muttered now and again, each time in a different language. Angela paced by the bed, worried for him. She hated to see him like this.
There was nothing worse. Gently, she laid a cool cloth on his forehead, wishing that there was more that she could do for him. He was in danger from being too hot as well as from the demon inhabiting his body. As if fighting her touch, he thrashed against the ropes that held him. There was no give in them, and his struggles gradually died down.
Three days had passed since Solitaire had tied him up. They had spent the time searching for the things they would need to free John of the demon in his body. They had spent the nights taking turns watching over him in shifts, forcing him to take a few sips of water now and then. Most of the time, he laid quite, trapped, his own will a match for that of the demon's. There had been a few times when the demon had taken over and he had fought against the ropes. Solitaire took over his care, shooing Angela from the room. There was no need for the dark haired woman to see him like that.
"Okay, I think I'm ready." Solitaire announced a little uncertainty behind Angela. She had her supplies laid out on a while towel. She might not like religion, but she knew what she was doing.
"You know the plan?" She asked, voice still a hoarse from the bruises that ringed her neck like a necklace.
"I'm ready." Angela told her.
Picking up the worn book, Solitaire took a deep breath, and after flipping to the right page, began to read aloud. The words were in Latin, and they came from her strongly. She didn't pause in the reading, even as John cried and begged for relief. At appropriate intervals, Angela did her job, anointing John with holy water and holy oil. Angela found herself suddenly wishing that she had paid more attention to him when he was teaching her. She longed for the information she had missed during those brief lessons.
John wasn't the only one in the room sweating. Solitaire stood at the end of the bed, book balanced on one hand like some kind of guardian angel. She had never stopped chanting, even though her throat was raw. A faint shadow of movement inside John gave her pause, and when she started chanting again, Angela joined in. Their voices perfectly in time, the chant grew stronger, building in intensity all the time until…
The demon shape appeared over John, looking like some kind of warped reflection. It growled menacingly in the same language John had been using. Without pause, Solitaire drew a knife from the bottom of the crucifix in her left hand, driving it into the demon's heart as it lunged for her. It shattered into a million shards, vanishing into thin air before they hit the floor.
A pair of clouded brown eyes searched the room, finally landing on Angela's face.
"Angela…" He gasped. "What happened?" He sounded confused, and as the fever died away, shivers wracked his body. Solitaire moved up next to the bed, drawing the blankets over his body. She had sensed that Angela couldn't deliver the news and knew that she would have to do it.
"You were possessed, John. We got the demon out of you." She told him. "You attacked us, I knocked you out and tied you up. It was the only way to keep us all safe." She reached to untie the ropes.
"Don't!" He barked. "If the demon comes back, I could kill both of you."
Solitaire's fingers stilled on the rope. She glanced at Angela, seeing the torment the older woman was in. They hated to leave him tied up when he was so vulnerable.
"And what about you?" Angela asked, sighing heavily.
"I'll be alright." He told them. On-one in the room believed the words, but they chose not to fight them.
"So what's the plan?" Solitaire asked.
"The same as before. Angela blesses the rain. You draw the half-breeds out of hiding." John said, strength fading.
"It should rain tonight." Solitaire said. "What happens after…? To you?" She asked grimly.
"I should be free of the possession when you destroy the half-breeds." He answered just as grimly.
"And if you're not?" The one question Solitaire had not wanted to ask came from Angela. "What happens then?" She spoke with quiet desperation in her voice.
He closed his eyes, gathering his strength, forcing them open as he spoke. "You'd have to kill me."
Both woman were appalled by the request, but John didn't let that bother him. "Worry about me after the city." He said.
Outside, the sky was drawing dark and close, clouds heavy and low to the ground. A faint rumble of thunder crackled, a sign of the coming rain. Solitaire wanted to cheer, but it seemed wrong given the sombre mood in the room. Excusing herself, she left John and Angela together.
"I can't kill you." Angela said, refusing to even think about it. He was still shivering, and she stood to add another blanket over him.
"Better?" She asked, trying to draw him off topic.
"Yes, thank you." He said, "Solitaire can. If it needed to be done, she could do it." He said.
"Please John!" Angela begged. "Don't… I can't bear it!"
"Promise me, Angela, that if I'm not free, you wont stop her?" He asked with strange intensity in his voice. "Promise me?"
She refused to listen, turning away so he couldn't see her tears.
"Death is better than being possessed." He said, still pressing her.
She broke, whirling to face the bed again. "Okay! I promise. I won't stop her." She said brokenly.
Rain began to fall softly outside and she knew that it was time to go. "I promise, John." She said softly once again. Bending, she kissed him, knowing it might be the last time they could kiss. Resting her forehead gently against his, she cried softly, letting her tears drip onto his face, where the pooled and mixed with his own. Closing her eyes, she broke contact with him, refusing to open them until she had turned away from the bed. If she looked at him, she wouldn't have the strength to do what needed to be done.
Solitaire opened the door, carrying bags of pre-packed equipment. Handing one to Angela, she opened her mouth to speak to John, not knowing quite what to say.
"See you when this is all over." Was the best thing she could come up with. Offering him a crooked half smile, she shouldered the bag. Her weapons were already holstered and in place. With a last smile from both, John said goodbye to them.
And they strode into the night, into the heavy rain, leaving the great John Constantine to battle with his demons alone.