John Constantine woke from a fitfull sleep, his bare chest covered in a film of sweat. Glancing at the thrift store clock by his bed, he made the time out to be about mid afternoon. The room was heavy with heat, the grimy windows letting in the blaze of afternoon sun, hitting his head with dull blows. He kneaded his forehead with his thumb feeling the start of a small migrane.
He lifted himself off of his small cot, pushing aside the flimsy white blanket till he sat with his head in his hands. Outside the muffled sounds of the city reverbrated through the room and he squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again watching a trickle of sweat drip from his brow and splatter to the floor.
Combing a hand through his hair he made his way to the kitchen, turning on the tap, bending over and drinking it as it rushed out in a cool spray. Splashing some on his face, Constantine remembered the vague images from his dreams. There was a blinding light, and a song...what were the words? He had known them, heard them before. And then there was the unmistakable sound, a roar...of a thousand beating wings...
"Hey pass me some of that peanut butter you got by the bowls over there will ya."
Constantine spun around, one hand reaching instinctively for something sharp, which in his case was a tiny plastic spork from one of his take out nights alone.
"Oh yeah ok. Whatchu gonna do? Spork me to death? hahaha. Death, hahaha..."
He watched as the lithe girl clad all in black collapsed in a fit of her own humor, bent over laughing, one hand holding a plate of sliced bread. Constantine narrowed his eyes at her. He knew who she was.
"What are you doing here? Which one sent you to take me?" He growled menacingly, dropping the spork on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.
The girl before him didnt look a day over fifteen, although he knew she was older than that...much, much older. Perhaps older than time itself. It wouldve amused him that this ancient one was standing over sliced bread and laughing at spork jokes, but she was the angel of death and he didnt much care for that fact.
"Oh relax," she said in between subsiding giggles, "I was on my way up to the fifth, some poet hung himself in his closet, when i thought hey. Id just drop by for a bit and have a snack."
She walked up to him and gave him a huge smile before reaching behind and stealing the jar of peanut butter. She walked back and started to casually spread it on her sliced bread.
"Ok...you have good work morals." Constantine mocked, the brief contact of her skin with his sending a wave of clammy dread through his body. He shivered despite the heat.
"Oh its nothing really. Ill be just a minute. He can stand another couple. Besides, the stairs just winded me abit back there. You guys should really install an elevator."
"Its an old building." Constantine reminded her. She glanced up, her dull grey eyes piercing through his and he looked away quickly. She bit into her sandwich and made a face.
"Hey...this things expired." she said before falling again into peals of laughter.
"Well it has been lying around for a year...or two."
She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and then stared at him again.
"Im hearing rumors John. Reaaalllyyyyy fucked up ones." She said seriously, playing with the large pendant on her neck. The egyptian symbol of life, the ankh, on the angel of death. How fitting. Constantine thought bitterly.
"Yeah well dont believe in everything you hear." Constantine interjected quickly, brushing past her into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.
"You know what will happen if these rumors are true dont you?" She called out from behind the door.
Constantine sat on the edge of the tub and fished around his pockets for a cigarette.
"If this happens John...you cant stop it. No one can. If this happens...then its all over."
Constantine fought the urge to go out and rummage in his drawers for the pack he knew he had somewhere.
"And the deal with you and that girl the other night..."
Constantine gave in and went out. She followed him as he made his way to his room.
"Yeah well how did you know about that?"
She heard her scoff.
"I was there John. Had to. There was a small crash a couple of cars behind you. A mother and her baby..."
Constantine stopped and looked at her. Her eyes betrayed no emotion but obviously raked his for a trace. He knew her game.
"Well too bad." He said looking again for his pack. The migrane resonated in his head.
"Huh. I know who she is John. But theyll find her sooner or later. Then that will be it."
He grabbed a small crucifix he found lying under his sock drawer and threw it at her. But she had gone. Constantine fell to his knees and took out the pack he had found wedged under his collection of matchboxes. He lit it and closed his eyes. The beating of a thousand wings...the beating of a thousand fucking wings...fear crept in slowly, but surely, and for the first time in ages, he actually felt it seep into his bones.
He was extremely and utterly afraid.