Disclaimer: Same as always. I own everything, but I lost the receipts.

Chapter 3

John Constantine generally had three sources of irritation. Satan, God, and Papa Midnight in that order. If Gabriel were still around, he was sure she…he…whatever…would tell him to look on the brighter side and find the deeper meaning behind his tribulations. If Chaz were still around, he'd just call him a playa and ask for details. The only real source of sage wisdom he could usually turn to now was the source of his latest irritation.

"You should open it before seeing him," Angela said.

"Stay out of my head when I'm brooding," he lightly scolded her. She flicked the sheet up over his head in retaliation.

"I couldn't stay out if I tried," she said, and rested her head on his shoulder once the sheet was removed. "What do you think is in that box?"

"I'm more worried about why he needed that hex on it," he replied.

"Ah, that…"

"First rule," he said as he sat up, "never open anything from Papa Midnight except at midnight."

"Rather cliché," she said, looking around for her nightgown.

"True," he said, getting up and walking out to the kitchen. Angela whistled as he went, since he didn't bother to put anything on. She decided to follow suit, since she didn't know where her nightgown was anyway.

"It's late John. Don't you think you could choose something better than coffee?" she asked as he pulled out a filter.

"This isn't for making coffee," he said, and folded the corners of the filter inward. Then he took several deep breaths and breathed into the filter while muttering something under his breath. Angela couldn't tell what he was saying, either with her ears or her link to him. Finally when he was finished he took the filter to a nearby window and placed it against the glass.

"And that does what?"

"Temporary branding. Acts like the holy water I have in my place, but only till the sun strikes it." He said as he turned around and wrapped his arms around her.

"And? Are you expecting something?" she asked, sighing as he tightened his told on her. She could be content with this for the rest of her life, no problem.

"I'm not expecting every evil little bastard to stay away. We put out a lot of energy, and that's bound to draw the curious."

"Then why are we standing naked before my biggest window?" she asked. He grinned, and she heard his chuckle in her mind as he guided her back to the bedroom.

In the morning, she just barely put the filer out before it lit her curtains on fire.

"Sorry about that," John said, this time actually making coffee.

"You're a real joy sometimes Constantine," she growled. The sudden heat from the flaming filter had cracked the pane of glass. Not completely, but very visible and quite annoying to look at.

"Still want me?" he asked rather casually.

Of course I do.

He looked up at her, a little surprised. That was the first time she had spoken directly to him, mind to mind. Not a sharing, but an actual directed communication. He could already talk to her, though he hadn't done much more than chuckle. Angela was becoming powerful very quickly.

They had a light breakfast, then she dropped him off at his apartment on her way to work. Being a cop was still useful, and the Captain knew of her association with Constantine. Anything unexplainable was routed to her, and no questions asked. The Los Angeles Police Department had washed its hands of the paranormal after finding someone twisted list a pretzel and half imbedded in metal.

John was glad that at least one of them had a job. He hadn't been gathering trinkets to sell to Papa or anyone else, which had cut into the meager savings he had. The Church had offered him a stipend, if he would become a Priest…which was the funniest damned thing he had ever heard. Father Constantine was about as bad as Papa Midnight, though not quite.

The mystery hexed package was still there on the table. He grabbed a piece of blessed silk and threw it over the package, then wrapped it up and set it out of the way before noticing his answering machine had three calls on it. He tapped the button while looking for a stick of gum.

BEEP "Mr. Constantine, my name is Cole Dreadson. I have a unique problem which I've been told…is best left to your unique skills. Please give me a call at 555-4232. It doesn't come out in the daylight, so please get to me soon. Thank you."

BEEP "You have won a cruise to…" he skipped that one.

BEEP "Mr. Constantine, it's Cole Dreadson again. I'm sorry, but I must speak with you soon. Strange things…stranger than normal things are following me. And I keep hearing this voice, like a laughing just behind me. It's what's following me. Please call me soon."

John checked the time, and found the call to have been just a little before he got back. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number.

"Hello?" came a very nervous and strung out voice.

"This is John Constantine. You needed to speak to me?"

"Yes…thank God you called. It's not going away this time…"

"Start with physical description, then how long, and what it's doing now."

"Oh, right. Mottled skin, gangly with three eyes and…it's transparent. Every mirror I see it's there. It always went away when the sun came up, for the last month, but just today it's still here! I'm looking in the reflection of a car window and it's staring at me!"

"Can you get to a Church or shrine?"

"There's one near me…it says Saint Benedict's."

"I know that place. Go inside and don't look at anything with a reflection. I'll be there shortly."

"Thank you. I'll be the guy with the thick glasses. I'm kinda obvious."

"I'll be there soon," John said, and hung up before cursing, though not God's name. He had learned some lessons.

Quickly gathering what he needed, from his stores which were dwindling as quickly as his savings, he called a cab and headed over to St. Benedict's. It was a more or less run down little church, catering mainly to the poor who received more money than they gave. Larger churches supported it for the most part. It was run by one priest, three nuns, and maybe five volunteers.

But it had a strange feeling to it. Something familiar. As he got out of the cab, he felt a very familiar tingle go through him. Try as he might, he could not recall the eerie feeling.

Are you alright?

He smiled. 'This is better than a cell phone.'

Real funny Constantine. Now what is going on to make you this nervous?

Funny, he hadn't noticed he was nervous.

'Three eyed soul beas.'

That shouldn't make you nervous.

It didn't, but the other feeling did. 'Just a feeling about this place.'

Where?

'St. Benedict's.'

There was along pause. There was a murder in the east alley beside it just two nights ago.

'I'll check that out first.'

Call me if you need me.

Now that felt good, knowing someone was waiting to help him if he needed it.

The alley was your standard brand, dark and damp with trash blown here and there. The church windows that faced it were either barred or boarded up, and a side door looked as if it hadn't been opened in years. There were still some rolls of yellow tape lying around, and a blood stain where the murder had taken place. He took a step in that direction, and froze.

In a puddle just beside him there was the soul beast, its three red eyes calmly staring into him.

"Shit."

Sorry for the short chapters, but ideas are slow in coming. Criticisms and suggests are more that welcome. Oh, and take a guess what's in Papa Midnight's gift. Go on, guess.