Chapter Seven
Constantine groaned painfully as he came to. "What the bleedin' 'ell..." He muttered thickly. His head was pounding and his right eye was...sticky. He forced his eyes open, blinking past the mild stinging and the throbbing in his temple.
It took him a moment to realize that he was lying face down on the ground.
He braced his hands against the ground and pushed himself to his knees, grimacing when the dirt stuck to his bloody hands. His head took a whole new pounding and he almost wished he'd stayed where he was. The movement caused a trickle into his eye and he lifted his hand. Realizing his hands were already bloody, he used the hem of his shirt.
It came away red.
No wonder his temple was throbbing.
What the hell was he doing passed out on the ground? The last thing he remembered was coming outside. Pigs blood, cigarettes, rituals and Zed had some serious daddy issues.
"Bloody hell."
John spun on his heel and the front door to the Mill was half open. Fury rode him hard as he burst through the half open door and took off running for the entrance that led down into the Mill.
He remembered turning around and there was the point of all their troubles. Dear ol' daddy. And the butt of a heavy pistol. The Martin bastard hadn't knocked him a sporting headache. Which one of those bleedin' sods had?
They hadn't wasted any time, had they? That meant they'd been watching. Waiting.
The Resurrection Cruscade was a whole fucked up organization from what he could tell. But dangerous in their own right.
John cursed himself for his own stupidity and felt a kindred of fear. He'd promised Zed.
He hadn't been out long, at least. The blood on his hands was still fresh, so was the small cut at his temple. He skidded to a halt when the inside of the main living area came into view below and he paused on the first step of the stairs. He didn't hear anything.
He didn't see Zed.
But he did see Chas.
"No, mate. No, no, no." He ran down the stairs and jumped the last three and then sank to his knees. Chas wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He had fucking lives to spare! His long time best friend lay in a puddle of blood. "Come on, keep your pecker up you bleedin' bastard." John hunched over him, pressing two fingers against his neck.
He couldn't find a god damned pulse!
"Wake up. Heal yourself, do whatever it is you do. You've got damn souls in there, you cock sucker. Bloody hell, do it." John hissed out, yanking Chas up by the collar of his shirt. He shook him until his head rolled back. "Where is she?"
Chas coughed then, his chest moving suddenly. "Corridor." He gasped out.
"Where?" Relief flooded him. Chas was alive. But where was Zed? He'd fucking promised her. The relief was intense, or maybe that was the blood loss talking. He was suddenly feeling a little crazy. And very, very pissed.
"Corridor." Chas gasped out again, lifting a hand and pointing to the right.
John followed the finger. That Corridor was one that even he hadn't had the guts to explore yet. Zed had managed to explore one room. That Corridor was one long hall way of room after room, turns and only God knew what else.
He stood. "Good girl." He muttered before looking down at Chas. "How many lives you got left?"
"Enough. Guess he thought I really was dead." Chas muttered.
"Lucky bastard." That was good enough for him. John reached behind the hallway door and pulled out a shotgun. Chas was doing the same thing but with a shorter one. "If anyone comes out that door besides Zed or myself, shoot them."
This Resurrection Cruscade was getting on his bloody damned last nerves.
He turned toward the Corridor and twisted the doorknob.
It didn't twist. "What the hell?"
That door didn't lock. There wasn't a lock on it period. He rattled the handle and then banged his fist against the door. "ZED!"
A muscle in his jaw ticked as John took a step back and then rammed the butt of the gun against the handle. He did it again and it gave on the fourth assault, falling to the floor. The door eased open.
"A little divine intervention would be nice." He muttered beneath his breath. He lifted the shotgun as he stepped inside the Corridor and nearly tripped over the body there.
Well, that meant there was only four to go. But he really hoped the poor bastard on the floor wasn't the one who'd probably just scarred his face. Cause he really wanted payback for that blind sided hit.
He was royally pissed. He absolutely hated it when he was caught unawares. He didn't play fair, but that didn't mean everyone else couldn't play fair. That sounded a little crazy, but that was just how he rolled.
He hated it even more when someone made a move against something that was his. Zed was his. She was a part of this dysfunctional team and mentally ill family. She didn't want to be a part of this Resurrection Crescade bullshit. So hell, she didn't have to be.
Her giving birth to the Messiah and all those visions falling into their hands was almost the same as the Rising Darkness, just not as bad. Those Cruscaders were very misinformed on their shit.
Their retribuation wasn't worth shit.
John moved silently, never lowering the shotgun. He turned his head and pressed his back against the wall. He strained to listen but couldn't hear anything. Which room? Which room? He knew there was one room where she might be. She'd used it often enough. There was a fifty to fifty chance of her actually being there, but that was better than not knowing.
He still had to figure out what he was going to do once he found her.
Shooting the bastards was at the top of his list.
He froze, his back against the wall when he heard movement. He knew it wasn't Zed because of the footsteps. There was more than one set. He edged further along the wall until there was enough space between the turn that opened into another hall, and the corner edge.
One, two, three, four, five, six...he saw a shadow.
He flipped the shotgun around and rammed the butt into the bastards jugular. He went down gagging. Constantine ducked as the second took aim and fired. He took that opportunity to slam the barrel against his chin, knocking him back. He moved swiftly, kicking both their weapons away while they lay on the floor.
He had the shotgun back up in seconds, copying the other mans aim. "You the one that gave me this buggar?" John said, motioning with his head to the drying blood on his temple.
"Hard feelings and all."
John snickered. Not 'no hard feelings'. He'd meant it. "Well, I've got a hard on for you, mate. Let's get started." He shot forward and felt the buzz of a bullet kiss his check. He slammed the side of the shotgun into the mans stomach and when he stumbled backward, John lifted the gun. "Hard feelings and all." He mimicked and knocked him out cold with a blunt blow to the temple.
"An eye for an eye, mate." He muttered beneath his breath.
He picked up the pistol at his feet. Three shots echoed down the hallway. He already had stains on his soul. What was three more?
He looked up. He'd have one more stain if he didn't reach Zed first.
Zed hadn't known the room could change from day to night. The times when she'd come here to meditate, the room had been bright. She hadn't been expecting the sky to darken. There was something about this room. That was why she had chosen it upon first exploration. Even now she could feel the calm that the room was meditating in her mind.
Barely. Just very, very barely.
She could hide here for days. Not just this room, but this Corridor. Probably even months. Unless her father found her before then.
She pressed her back against a tree and covered her mouth with her hand. Was Chas alright? What about John? Where was he? Was he alright? She needed to know that he was alright.
We need a vision, Zed and we need one right now. Get over whatever it is that's holding you back and have one.
She mentally whispered those words to herself. Constantine had said that.
This room was a relief from the intensity of the visions. It wasn't that it kept the visions at bay. It allowed for her to have relief from them. They were controllable here.
She took a deep breath, pressing her hands against her head. She needed a vision. She needed to know that John was alright. She was too scared to try for Chas, afraid of what she would find. But John...she needed to know.
"Come on, Zed." She whispered, keeping her back against the tree. She was hyperventilating and she forced her breathing to calm. Keep Martin out of her mind. The fear. Focus on John.
She saw him. Saw him turning and then one of those goonies knocking him out with a blow to the temple.
No, no, no, no.
Concentrate.
The vision jumped and she saw him again. He was moving, stepping over a fallen body, shotgun in hand. She saw the long Corridor and felt the fury boiling below the skin.
The vision had been too fast, the images to choppy for her to actually make much sense of it. She'd caught a glimpse of his chin before the vision had changed, almost like she was seeing through his own eyes. She'd seen the bloodied hands holding the shotgun.
That was Constantine. Oh God, he was alive. He was here somewhere. He was looking for her. Relief flooded her so hard she nearly fell.
A hand cupped over her mouth from the side and Zed slammed her elbow backwards. She heard an answering grunt and reached into the pocket of John's trench coat and curled her fingers around Achilles'. One hand curled around the bastards forearm while she slapped the Achilles' around his wrist.
Surprise, surprise, she thought, when his hand suddenly went limp. He wasn't expecting that, was he? She spun around. "I won't go back. I won't." She hissed out and curled her fingers into the soft skin of his throat and dug her nails in. She followed with a knee up into the groin and he doubled over, releasing her.
"Bloody hell, Zed, it's me."
Shocked relief filtered through her at John's pained groan.
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