Part VI: Nightmares
John was still smirking subtly to himself as he stepped down the plush red stairs that marked the entrance to Papa Midnite's bar and club. The bouncer held up a card rigidly, and John quickly answered "Dog in a lake," striding past the bouncer and into the club. Entrancing music pounded through the speakers as John walked confidently past angels and demons, both of whom regarded him with cool indifference. John reached the lounge, and stared hard at the quilted pattern of the door—seamlessly replaced since he had shot-gunned it, John noted—until it swung forward, allowing him to step easily into the spacious interior. John breathed in, inhaling the heavily perfumed air. He coughed slightly, and a voice regarded him casually, "I thought you stopped smoking, John."
John coughed again, "I did. Just all this incense is choking me," he waved his hand in front of his face to ward off the fumes, and Midnite gave a deep chuckle.
"Why are you here, John? Mammon is safely in Hell, now, I assure you. I would have thought you'd be in Italy or perhaps France by now, along the Riviera with that girl of yours…" Midnite trailed off thoughtfully.
"Chas is back."
"Oh, the kid?" Midnite chuckled again, "I liked him. How is he doing?"
"He's dead." John muttered flatly, "Well, he's an angel."
"Yes, I would assume so. Tell him to drop by once in awhile, we might have some entertainment to his liking."
John raised one eyebrow slightly, "He's on a mission."
Midnite observed John with an identical expression, "A mission? What for?"
John shrugged, "God, and he doesn't know what for," he paused, and Midnite nodded pensively, "I picked up my sister today." Midnite kept nodding, so John continued, "There's something…about her. Something I can't place. It's…strange."
"Well, John, if she is related to you, there is bound to be many things about her you cannot place," Midnite gave him a bemused smile and picked up a rich-looking cigar. John stared coolly at him, and reached into his pocket for a piece of gum.
"This is different. She doesn't have the…gift," John spit out 'gift' bitterly, "And my uncle—a half-breed demon—wants her in his custody."
"Your uncle is a demon?"
"No…well, I'm fairly sure it wasn't him. But, some demon wants her…and I don't know why. But I think it might have something to do with Chas's reappearance…also, Angela's been having visitors at night."
Midnite was silent, so John kept going, "Demons. Again. And not Mammon this time."
Midnite sighed deeply, "John, that is…not impossible, but implausible. Mammon is in Hell. Satan is in Hell. Demons—yes, even the demons—are in Hell. Are you sure this isn't just your imagination working because of the frustration of finding that, for once in your life, nothing is going wrong?"
John shook his head, frustrated, "It's something else. Something is out there, and it's not my imagination. I want Jade to speak to you. Can we drop by tomorrow? She doesn't have the gift," John reminded him.
Midnite sighed again, "Of course, I will arrange something." John nodded curtly and turned to leave, "Oh, and John? Do not make trouble for yourself."
John gazed impassively at him for a second before turning and walking out the door. Midnite sighed, and tapped his cigar briefly on the edge of an ashtray, before saying a quick prayer for his friend's health and wits.
Jade was laughing, and Chas with her. John could hear them all the way across the street. At least some of us are having fun, he thought to himself, too many demons—figurative and literal—for you to have fun, though, Constantine
Jade and Chas both looked up as the door slammed open and John Constantine stood there, his tall figured dark and imposing against the faded hall light, his gaze heavy and unwavering.
"Drama queen." Chas muttered under his breath, and Jade giggled. John raised one eyebrow at them, and walked past where they were sitting at the table to the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of vodka off the top of it, and opened a cupboard, selecting a glass and pouring it half-full.
"Good evening to you, too, John," Chas grinned at John, who had turned slightly at the sound of his voice. John turned back, downing his drink, and setting the glass on the counter, ignoring them both. Chas shrugged and turned back to Jade, with whom he was playing a game of chess. Jade rolled her eyes at John's lack of manners, and took Chas's rook, "Hey! That was my rook!"
"Yes, yes it was."
"Hey! That was my knight!"
"Chas, do you even know how to play this game?"
"I read a book, once."
John snorted, but couldn't keep from smiling at the easy banter between Chas and Jade. It was far more relaxed than the earlier tension, he mused, if still not an entirely open atmosphere, "Bed." John called, walking into the bathroom.
"Hey, that was my pawn!"
Jade lay awake, staring at the dark crevices of the ceiling, taking note of all the places her body was aching. She could see the ancient clock on the wall ticking away the seconds from where she was camped on the couch, a warm blanket tossed over her. Chas was snoring softly on the floor between the couch and John's bed, and John was asleep, as far as she could tell; though every so often he would thrash for a few seconds and mutter something in Latin. It was two fifty-six am, and she could feel her body's tiredness beginning to take over. Her eyes drifted shut, until a muscle spasm jolted her awake. I can fall asleep…the nightmares won't come…she repeated the litany over and over in her head, but couldn't seem to bring herself to believe the words.
Jade swung her legs over the side of the couch, creeping softly across the hardwood floor to the kitchenette area. She pulled a glass out of the cupboard and ran the tap until the water was icy. She pushed her glass under the stream, and sipped slowly. A shadow moved across one of the windows, and she shuddered involuntarily. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she continued to drink the water. Gulping it down, she put her glass under the still running tap and filled it again, turning around until she was leaning against the sink. She looked up, and a bolt of fear jolted through her as she noticed someone standing before her, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering through one of the still-open blinds. John quirked an eyebrow at her, and reached up and over her head to the cupboard, taking out a glass of his own. Jade felt the fear release slowly from her, leaving only a tense caution behind, and John filled his glass, flicking the tap off.
He drank, slowly, but steadily, and when he finished he set the glass beside her on the counter, "You should get some sleep." His voice was rough from sleep, and Jade nodded mutely. He gave her a faint nod, and left to go back to bed. Jade drank the rest of her water, and followed, settling back on the couch.
She felt herself drifting off, and this time she didn't try to stop it.
Angela woke suddenly, gasping for breath, and gripping the Celtic amulet about her neck. An acidic sting hit her nostrils, and she groped blindly about the coffee table until her hand found what it was looking for—a small, intricately designed metal contraption—Sulfur, she thought.
Jade woke suddenly, gasping for breath. It was hot, the air heavy with thick condensation. Breathing in the viscous air, she felt herself go dizzy with a wave of nausea. In the distance, she could hear some sort of inhuman screaming, a sound that made her break into a cold sweat, despite the syrupy humidity. She coughed once, covering her face, and decided to get another drink of water. Her eyes still half-shut, she swung her legs onto the wooden floor and pressed her weight on it in an effort to get up. She screamed as one foot fell through the rotting wood, and her eyes snapped open. The building was no longer intact, the roof giving way to open rust-colored sky, what was left of the shutters banging effortlessly in a whipping wind. The floor beneath her rotting, and Chas and John nowhere to be seen. Jade closed her eyes again, the nightmares came.
Angela held the dragon's breath in front of her like a gun. A shadow slithered past her doorway, and she turned, her breathing heavy and heart racing. Her gaze stayed trained on where the shadow had slid past, until, her pulse started to decrease. She stayed up for over an hour, cautiously checking the doors and windows, until she was sure that whatever had been there was not coming back that night. She fell slowly back into a fitful sleep.
The nightmares usually came about once a week. They used to come every night, but she'd managed to suppress them into tentative regression. They always took place in this same Hellish land, and every time she would sit quietly in her bed and wait for it to go away. Come morning, they would be gone. And that was what she was doing now.
Jade pulled the ragged remains of the blanket around her shoulders and perched precariously on the couch, her eyes closed, chanting silently to herself in Latin. Very rarely, she had different dreams, dreams that weren't nightmares. In those dreams, she'd been in a place between worlds, full of bright, white light. A voice would speak to her, and it would speak in Latin—and she understood it. And, though she couldn't understand what she was saying now, the words comforted her in a way no other litanies could.
Click. Clickclick. Clickity-click-click.
Jade's eyes snapped open. She glanced around warily, almost positive she had been imagining—if that was possible, in a dreamland—the clicking noise. She'd never come face to face with any of the creatures in this land, though she could always hear the tormented wails in the distance, and she was fairly confident that she never wanted to meet anything that inhabited her dream world. Cautiously, she closed her eyes again.
Click. Clickclick.
In Deo speramus. In trinitus speramus. Christe, eleison. Kyrie, eleison. Agimus tibi gratias, omnipotens Deus, pro universis beneficiis tuis: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. She muttered the Latin forcefully, letting the words flow silently from her tongue.
Clickity-click-click. Jade. Clickclick. Jade Constantine
Her eyes opened again, and she looked around. She was fairly positive she hadn't imagined this.
Jade Sarea Constantine.
She looked behind her; nothing. She turned back, and came face-to-face with a …something. A skeletal corpse of a creature, the rotting flesh that made it up stretched thin over its protruding bones, with a scooped-out hollow of a head and jagged, almost human features. With no eyes, its cartilage nose sniffed furiously, and it bared its teeth in recognition of the meat that lay before it. Long-fingered bony hands groped, and Jade nearly gagged from the overall smell of festering, rotting carcass. It cocked its head in an eerily human gesture, and Jade moved backward into the couch, slowly. She glanced side to side, not moving her head, judging if she'd be able to run, were it to chase her. She saw no paths of freedom on either side, so she slowly turned her head to look behind her. About halfway through the motion, she saw the thing jerk its head back into place out of the corner of her eye. It was a split second before it lunged, shrieking in inhuman insanity.
Jade screamed the first thing that fired from her brain to her vocal chords, "JOHN!"
John awoke in an instant, his hand already halfway to the holy shotgun on his nightstand, until he realized it was Jade screaming. She was wrestling with the blanket, tumbling fitfully and sobbing his name, along with muttered Latin phrases. He got out of bed and hurried—as much as John Constantine ever hurried—to the couch, tripping over Chas as he went. John knelt by the couch and pulled the blanket back, just as Jade shot up and almost collided with him leaning over her. Her eyes were wild, and she was gasping for breath, one hand gripping the pendant around her neck. Her gaze met his fearfully, and she threw herself into his confused arms and sobbed into his chest, still gasping for breath. John, thrown aback by this uncharacteristic behavior, patted her awkwardly on the back, noting the curious heat that was pouring forth from her slender body.
As if she'd just realized where she was and what she was doing, Jade hurtled herself away from him, and retreated to the far end of the couch, clutching the blanket and continuing to sob hysterically, "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry, it was a nightmare. I have them all the time. It was just a nightmare. I'm sorry." Her body shook uncontrollably.
"What's going on?" A sleepy-eyed Chas stumbled up behind them, "Jade, are you okay?"
"It was just a nightmare," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone, "It wasn't real, it was just a nightmare."
Chas knelt beside her on the couch and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"It was just a nightmare." Jade nodded, as if to emphasize her point, "I'm okay. It wasn't real."
John reached over and turned on a lamp, continuing to stare at her. Chas brought his hand away from her shoulder, and looked at it. It was covered in rust-colored dust.
"Jade," John began, "are you sure…it was just a nightmare."
She looked at him, and he saw a jolt of fear traverse through her body, "Yes," she whispered firmly, "It was just a nightmare."
"What…" John paused, trying to be tactful, "What did you see?"
Jade shivered involuntarily and pulled the blanket around her tighter. Tears still streamed down her cheeks, but she whispered softly, "I have them all the time…at least…at least once a week. It's totally normal…it's just…a world…I'm in a world…like this one, only…only everything is decaying…dead. Everything is dead. There's screaming…wailing…in the distance…but it's just a wasteland. Nothing's there, at least…" she shuddered again, and Chas moved to sit beside her on the couch, "I didn't think anything was there." Jade shook her head furiously, "But it doesn't matter, it was just a nightmare." She was still gripping the pendant, John noted.
"Maybe…maybe not." John said, getting up abruptly and coming back with a glass of water, and a couple of pieces of chocolate, "You should eat something," He handed them to her, and she took a sip of the water.
Chas stood up, nodding at John, "Jade…" he began, "Do…do you see anything?" He flexed his wings. Jade shook her head.
John cocked his head and gazed at her steadily, "More specifically, do you see Chas's wings?"
Jade looked at them both like they were crazy. She sipped her water and looked up at Chas. John saw an almost imperceptible change as her eyes hardened slightly when Chas flexed his wings again, "No." She whispered, "I don't. See. Anything."
Chas sighed and threw up his hands in an, 'I give up' motion, and Jade set her glass on the table next to her. She met John's steady, scrutinizing gaze, "It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. I don't see anything." She wrapped the blanket around her body, and huddled on the far side of the couch, closing her eyes, "I don't see…anything," she whispered to herself, "I don't see anything."
John stayed next to the couch, watching her as she drifted to sleep, still huddled in a ball. He could hear Chas snoring lightly from the other side of the room. About forty minutes after both his charges had gone to sleep, he reached over and clicked off the lamp beside the couch, "How," he muttered to himself, "Did you do it without water?"