Da Pacem Domine- The Apocryphal Attempts

by MJTR

The three collected attempts to complete Angel of the Bat III: Da Pacem Domine before my latest top-down revision. Remaining online as a curiosity.

14. The Complete First Failed Attempt

Author's note (2025)-

As I'm prepping for the last reflection of the completed Da Pacem Domine, I thought it was a proper bit of housekeeping to upload the failed attempts. For one reason or another, this chapter and the next were the first two tries to make Da Pacem Domine happen that just didn't come together.

Angel of the Bat: Da Pacem Domine (Attempt 1, October 24, 2018. Huuuuuge shoutout to the Internet Archive for having Chapter 1, as I no longer had my copy)

A Fan Fiction by MJTR

Original Description: On a cold winter's night, five individuals witness the death of a holy warrior. With his last breath, he entrusts them to prevent a calamity that could rend all of mankind to pieces. Carrying the Sin and Salvation of all the world, this ragtag team must overcome an enemy powerful enough to claim the title of God. [Features- Cassandra Cain, Renee Montoya, John Constantine]

[Author's introduction: With the fifth anniversary of Angel of the Bat coming up here in less than half of a year, I decided to take a crack at something different. Rather than wait until that date to initiate this story, I'm going to attempt to couple this with my current writing binges and see if I can't get the whole thing done by the time of the anniversary. It's just a goal, not something I can guarantee, but it seemed like something worth trying.

This story, at least I feel right now, is rather different than both the original and Times of Heresy. I won't explain how here, but that too seemed like a worthy experiment. As I alluded to back in Times of Heresy, that story was meant to be the most grounded in the trilogy. This one, in turn, will be by far and away the most fantastic. I am a fantasy writer first and foremost, and I don't believe being more fantasy driven is a reason why a story doesn't have the potential to be every bit as meaningful.

I'd strongly recommend reading the first two Angel stories before getting into this one, but as with Times of Heresy (and well written comic books, really) I am writing with the intention that the pieces are all there for the reader to put together. As a last note, this story takes place independent of the events of Beware the Batman, a different fic I started, didn't finish, but one day may. I just want to establish that, although this would take place before that story, they are in separate timelines in my little Angel-verse. Enough talk then, this opening chapter is long enough already. I hope you enjoy the story.]

Chapter One

It seemed like such a normal night off patrol. There had been sushi, laughter, and a terrible struggle for balance. A blade in the hand seemed so easy compared with one strapped to each foot.

"How are you so bad at this?"

"First time. Shut up, stop laughing."

"You can meditate while standing on your head and probably walk a mile on your hands." The first of the two, a young woman in a big, leather coat with hair short enough to tuck under her stocking cap, examined her partner. "But ice skating? Ice skating is your kryptonite?"

From the wall that surrounded the outside of the rink, the second shook her fist as she took one clunky step at a time. With her struggle for balance and petite frame, it was hard to look intimidating. "I'll push you."

The short haired girl glided past her, curved to turn around and stuck out her tongue. "You'd have to catch me first." As she spoke she pressed onto her heels a little to slow down.

Parents with their children, lovers and even a van of church teens all swooped up and down the Gotham's Bayside Skating Rink. The speakers played inoffensive music, little ones cried out of fear of falling, and snow fell gently from the sky. For most of them it was just a pleasant night out. For the two girls, it was another precious moment in a too-rare reunion.

Cassandra grit her teeth a little. Sadie was right, she was oddly bad at this activity. She couldn't pick up any decent momentum, the stress made her sweat a little, and the center of her feet hurt from the odd balance of the ice skates. But deep down, she didn't really mind any of those things. In spite of her struggle, she tried to pick up the pace. Sadie had slowed significantly and still seemed so far away.

"Come on," she said. "Go for it. You gotta want it!"

Was there ever any doubt about that?
When Sadie and almost stopped completely, Cassandra took a lunge. She was practically running on the ice and it made her already sore feet sting even more. But that was okay. She nearly tripped, but didn't, caught up to Sadie and wrapped her arms around her tight from behind.

Sadie smirked as Cassandra nuzzled into her. "Good job." With a few kicks of her own, Sadie led Cassandra toward the center of the floor.

A little pain in her feet, a struggle with balance, some sweat, none of those things really mattered. Sadie's winter break back in Gotham only lasted a few short weeks. If Sadie wanted to be at an ice skating rink, Cassandra wanted to be there too.

After a last, labored circle around the ice the girls finally peeled off their ice skates. The skating rink had been close enough to the bay to hear the splashes of the ocean and watch how building lights reflected off the water. As Cassandra stretched out her toes, finally free of their prison, Sadie bought hot chocolate and brought it to their seats.

"To winter break." Sadie raised her cup.

Cassandra tapped it with her own. "Toast." And rested her head against Sadie's shoulder.

"Seems like you have a lot more free time these days." Sadie sipped her hot chocolate. "Your dad not keeping you so busy anymore? Or is it just when I'm in town?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Hadn't noticed. Still feel busy."

That was a lie, even if it wasn't a malicious one. In the two years since Sadie had gone off to college, Bruce's already impressive dragnet had increased. Dick was a call away again, Barbara was often available to give a second opinion to anything technical. Tim and Stephanie, were never far away and Damian had adjusted surprisingly well with a little discipline. Bruce's once rarely seen cousin Kate wore a uniform of her own, Katana trained a new group of Outsiders, it seemed like there was just less and less to do. There was a faint thought in the back of Cassandra's mind that, maybe someday soon, Bruce wouldn't need so many people patrolling his streets. Maybe the wrath that had plagued Gotham for so long could finally fade away.

As Sadie laid a peck sticky with chocolate on her forehead, Cassandra couldn't help but figure that was a better way to spend a night.

The two returned to Sadie's car slowly, holding hands and taking one another's questions over sips of increasingly chilly cocoa.

Sadie asked, "Any change you have a spare invitation to Steph and Tim's wedding? I think the mailroom lost mine. I know when it is, obviously, I just want it for sentimental reasons."

"Yes," Cassandra said. "Or get another one."

"Just please don't tell Stephanie I never got it."

"Why?"

Sadie feigned a guffaw. "Because she's busy enough trying to plan for it. If she knows my invitation got lost, she'll start thinking all of them got lost."

Cassandra laughed a little. "All right. Painting going well?"

"I had a whole module this last term on healthier stress relievers than pulling your hair out and turning to booze," Sadie said. "Thank God you got me doing tai chi and stuff or I might be bald and addled by now."

A smile crossed Cassandra's face but it was only for show. She'd seen what the drug-ridden of Gotham looked like, it was not a state she liked picturing her girlfriend in.

"I tried painting you something that would look like stained glass, but everything I made came out… I dunno, abstract."

That brought a genuine grin to Cassandra's face. "I don't know the difference."

"It didn't seem good for a gift. More of a pretty card design, I thought… maybe for a wedding invitation or something. Guess we're back to that subject now."

"Would you paint them for our—" Cassandra's heart skipped a beat as she spoke and she didn't finish the sentence. She'd made a promise, two years before. She wasn't supposed to ask questions like that.

Sadie shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe."

Cassandra released Sadie's hand and stopped moving as her heart missed a second palpitation. Sadie kept walking for a few steps before she turned around with a not entirely innocent smirk on her face. "Yeah? Was it something I said?"

Blood rushed into Cassandra's cheeks. "Told me I shouldn't talk about that—"

"Yeah, I know," she said. "But, y'know, it's my rule. I can take it back if I feel like taking it back."

"Do you… want to?"

Sadie stepped back toward her and took one of her hands again. "You haven't been carrying a ring every time I've come home and we've been out, have you? Because as endearing as that would be, it'd be kind of creepy too."

Cassandra shook her head, unsure if the question was a joke or not.

Sadie bumped her forehead against Cassandra's. "I'm saying I think I'm ready to work my way there," she said. "We still wouldn't be able to in Jersey, unless that case Pete mentioned ends up going through, but whatever. I'm having a blast at school, I'm doing what I love. But most of the year, there's still this hole in the middle of it all." She leaned in closer and the two shared a kiss. "And I think you're exactly the right size to fill it."

In the dark of a Gotham night mostly lit by streetlamps and snow on the ground, Cassandra felt a blazing warmth within. As Sadie turned back around to take the last few steps to the car, Cassandra clutched the little, silver cross around her neck and mumbled, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

It was just as the two arrived at the doors of the sedan that an eruption of noise tore through the air. Both women jumped, nearly lost their balance and turned toward what looked to be the smoldering remains of an explosion not two blocks away.

With wide eyes, Sadie starred down the road. "What—what the hell was that?"

Cassandra, however irrational it surely seemed, hadn't bothered to contemplate what she had just heard. Despite the shake that ran through her body and her heart pounding in her ears, she faced the destruction as smoke began to rise.

"Cassie? Cassie what are you—"

Lives could be at stake if she hesitated too long. Her instincts and conscience yelled at her to run. There was no way she could resist.

-000-

Less than a mile from the skating rink and less than an hour before the explosion, a middle-aged, redheaded priest sat within the Church of the Holy Redeemer. He was overdue to lock up for the night, as he was waiting for a message from an old associate. The priest knelt at a pew and silently mouthed words to himself. The only sound within the church were a few occasional thunks against the stained glass windows. Any other reasonable man who could identify the noise would be terrified. But the priest, Father Garret Day, did not give them much mind. He trusted in a power greater than even the bulletproof glass that held his attackers at bay.

A rattle came at the locked front door of the church. Father Day spoke up, just a little, and sang, "If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts."

The noises against the sturdy old door grew louder. Father Day rose from his knees, approached the altar of candles on his left and lit one. As he did so, he continued to recite his prayers.

Just when the old doors finally gave way, Father Day unlocked the tabernacle behind the altar and slid out the heavenly host within. He then turned to face his company: five men in crimson robes with hoods over their faces.

Father Day smiled at them. "Good evening, my brothers. Have you come to share the Lord's feast with me?"

The tallest of the five stood in the center as his fellows formed an arrow behind him in the middle of the nave. "You know why we have come here, Garret Day."

"Clearly I do not," the priest said. "Or else what sense would it have made to ask the question?"

One of the other cloaked figures behind the first asked, "You would dare attempt deceit in God's house?"

Father Day tsk tsked him as he carried the Eucharist to the altar in the center of the room. "This isn't a real house of God, of course. I'm sure you know that as well as I do. Just a cover for our Order's activities. A fine place to keep from being bothered."

The hooded man at the front of the pack took a step forward and rolled up one of his lengthy sleeves to reveal a knife. "The Angel of Death has crossed the Nephilim. Destiny is at hand, and we will not see it stolen from us."

As the leader made his way toward Father Day, his four accomplices began to chant in quiet Latin.

"Da pacem, Domine

In diebus nostris

Quia non est alius

Qui pugnet pro nobis

Nisi tu Deus noster."

Day glared down at the leader as he crossed stepped toward the altar. "Would you dare to kill a man as he is accepting the holy flesh?"

The hooded man hesitated for only a moment. "You said yourself this isn't even a real church."

"But I am a real priest. And I have sanctified this wafer. It is the body of Christ."

The hooded man stopped in his tracks, seemed to glare from within his mantle and said, "Get on with it then."

"Will you grant me my last rites?"

His assailant raised the dagger wordlessly.

"All right, all right. I'll do it myself." Father Day consumed the large communion wafer in two bites. As the hooded man closed the distance between them and his allies continued to chant, Father Day bowed his head and prayed aloud.

"Go forth, Christian soul, from this world. In the name of God the almighty Father,
who created you, in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who suffered for you, in the name of the Holy Spirit—"

It was then, together with a series of cracks and smashes that quieted the chants, the man with the knife whirled around and the sly priest slipped under the altar.

"What?" The leader of the hoods shouted. In the second Father Day had slipped from his sight, the priest opened, escaped into and locked a trapdoor beneath the altar. He looked up slowly and had to swallow a shout of fear.

Down the nave, among his four fellows, was a man in a dark blue petticoat, hat and tie. In one hand he looked to hold a police baton, in the other, a stun gun. Two of the four were already on the ground groaning in pain. As the hoods who still stood pulled similar knives from within their robes, the man easily outmaneuvered them. He seemed to move so quickly, the leader noted, that he couldn't manage a good look at his face.

The man in the hat and tie knocked away one knife with a swing of the club and plunged the stun gun into his attacker. A shriek of agony echoed through the church as he followed with a punch between the eyes and knocked him onto his back. The last of the reinforcements swung down wide with him knife, but the mysterious man raised both hands, caught the attack and twisted his meaty arm until he relinquished the blade. With first a twist kick and a follow up in the face, the man in the suit disposed his fourth opponent. Element of surprise or not, it was enough to make the leader cold with fear.

The terror was quickly exacerbated as the figure turned toward him and the leader realized no face looked back. The man, or perhaps creature, approached him slowly.

"What are you supposed to be?" The hooded man's composure was lost, no matter how he tried to cling. "Begone, demon! You will not interfere with our work."

"I suppose you were wondering what happened to the gunmen you had positioned outside."

To the leader's continued confusion, the faceless beast spoke in a woman's voice paired with a Hispanic accent.

"You—what did you do to my crew?!"

"They'll all recover after they answer for attacking this place. That's your punishment for using such an easily accessible radio channel," the beast said. "Let's not drag this out. What did you come here to accomplish?"

Despite his orders to execute Father Day, the hooded leader knew he had not been summoned for any particular skill he possessed. The Nephilim's ace in the hole was surely elsewhere. The gunmen on the roofs outside the church were surely expected to either get through the glass or break in themselves. And since the demon indicated they had been indisposed, he was the last hope.

With a shout he ran toward the faceless monster, knife lowered to an underhanded position. More thought would have revealed to him just how hopeless the effort would be, but it was all he could have faith in. The faceless one sidestepped his one powerful thrust, grabbed his arm at the wrist and smashed the hard of her clenched elbow into his outstretched one. The bone within snapped, the hooded man screamed in anguish as he hit the floor, and the faceless one stood over the five of them.

He—she—it, made its way, one body at a time, and clasped each of the men's hands behind their backs with sets of handcuffs. As the leader whimpered when it approached her again, the creature said, "You should have answered the Question. Always answer the Question."

When the leader made no rebuttal and it was clear the line was lost on him, the Question looked back toward the altar. With a few seconds of searching, she found the entrance to the trapdoor and attempted to open it, but found it locked.

"Sir!" She called down. "Sir it's safe up here now! Can you hear me? I have a few questions for you all!"

The Question pressed her ear against the trapdoor, but no noises came. From within her mask, the Question looked toward the beaten men, who looked to be some kind of cultists. She stood up straight and made her way back over toward their leader. If the priest had no answers to offer her, perhaps he could be persuaded to reveal something.

She stopped and nearly fell over at the shock and sound of an explosion a few blocks away. All of the beaten men shuddered and groaned at the noise and she briefly considered what to make of it. Gotham was, after all, full of other vigilantes who may well have heard the same thing she did. Some of them may even be closer than she was. One of them might even be responsible.

But as she reflected, she reluctantly bolted toward the door. She had no way of knowing what had really happened, and someone may well need her elsewhere.

-000-

In little more than that same hour, a plane arrived in the Gotham International Airport. For the passengers aboard the Airbus a330 from London to Gotham near seats 32 A and B, the flight could not have landed fast enough. International travel had its own share of aches and pains by itself, but the two blonde men in those seats seemed to radiate unease and discomfort. One had twitched and mumbled constantly, quiet enough to seem easy to ignore but too sporadic to keep a mental shield up for. His companion had seemed all right initially but sounded like he'd start a fight with the stewardess when he stood up to cram his trench coat into an overhead compartment. Whoever the both of them were, their fellow passengers hoped never to encounter them again. And, the longer he spent with his client, the more John Constantine hoped the same.

"Evil hands are at work now, Mr. Constantine." The client rubbed his hands together and he bit his under lip had enough to threaten blood as they two boarded a tram within the Gotham airport. "Monsters, demons, devils, they may well be ants to what is to come."

"What about angels then?" Constantine hoped to throw the madman off his balance, maybe that would make him pipe down. "Plenty of those apples are rotten too, you know."

He glared toward Constantine as he slipped his hands into his white and red jacket. "I'm an angel, you know."

"Uh huh. Of course you are." Constantine felt an involuntary spasm of his own as the train lurched to a stop. He needed a cigarette.

His client sputtered again. "It's a title! I'm not being literal about myself, but them, him—"

"All right, all right, shut your gob," Constantine said. "Thought you wanted to avoid detection."

A transatlantic flight with a twitchy bloke who kept making the sign of the cross every five minutes was usually more than Constantine could tolerate. It was only the healthy advance the man had provided that brought him this far. There was someone he needed to see about Judgement Day, and apparently he was desperate enough to run to a dark sorcerer for protection. Once he'd reached some old church in Gotham, the rest of the money would be in John's pocket and he could head right back for home.

Constantine finally got a little breathing room from his client when he went to sign for the rental car. The sorcerer stepped outside into the brisk, snowy Gotham night and slipped a cigarette into his mouth. Security took his lighter an ocean earlier, he had to improvise. With a rub of his fingers and an incantation, he produced a tiny flame, held it to his Silk Cut, and took a long drag.

"Bloody rapture wankers." He mumbled the future of the scenario to himself under his breath. "The end of the world didn't happen this time, but not because we were wrong. We weren't wrong the last time it didn't happen either. God just works in mysterious ways. Now that the thought that the Lord was wrong passed through all yer heads, make sure to be extra generous in yer tithing today, you sinful lot." He took another deep inhale from the cigarette and smoke mixed with his visible breath. "Next time call that fellow in Chicago why don't you? He's got a number in the phone book, says he's a wizard and everything—"

Constantine glanced up from his frustrated rant long enough to catch a glimpse at a figure that stood within the short term parking garage across the street. The figure was a tall, pale man with a jet black beard and hair and a blood red cloak could have been his only garment. As a powerful wind whipped through the air and tossed the bottom of Constantine's trench coat about, the hair and cloak of the pale one seemed totally unperturbed, as if he was a heavy statue. Cars passed behind him and their stare-down was momentarily interrupted by a family that stepped between them. Whatever the motionless thing was, Constantine was beginning to suspect no one but him could see it.

"Mr. Constantine? Mr. Constantine?"

The sorcerer flinched and turned toward his client. "What?"

"I have the car keys. We need to hurry. We need to—" His client frowned as he noticed Constantine's fixed gaze. He looked up to where Constantine was so focused. The statuesque figure revealed the life within him as a sinister sneer came across his face. As he did, the client went pale with horror. "God save us—move, MOVE!"

The creature in red lunged toward the pair, the screams of travelers confirmed to Constantine that whatever had rendered him unseen before was gone. And, judging by the way gravity didn't coax him back down, it seemed the thing could also fly. It was the point in which the creature drew a whip of fire out from its cloak the cynical sorcerer stopped being surprised.

"You shouldn't have gone snooping, Arlington!" The creature swung the whip of flames toward Constantine's client, who only barley managed to evade it.

Arlington, as if he saw no other way, ran into a nearby taxi cab and pulled out the driver.

"No, no!" The cab driver tried to struggle against Arlington, but he possessed great strength for a man of his relatively meager stature. "That thing will kill me!"

"It's me he wants!" Arlington turned and shouted to Constantine, "John, hurry up, get in!"

Constantine hazarded a look toward the demon in the red cloak as he swung the blazing whip toward him. A surge of energy rushed through the sorcerer's hands as he raised them, clawed in opposite directions, and formed a shield sufficient to absorb the impact of the fire.

"Hate this country." Constantine rushed toward the cab. "Been back here thirty minutes and I hate it all."

Arlington slammed onto the gas and peeled out of the airport with a wretched screech. The demon in red held his mad glare and flew toward the speeding taxi. Constantine slipped his head out the window to watch the creature's pursuit. Arlington had put some distance between them and the demon, but he was catching up quickly.

Constantine rolled up the window and grit his teeth. "Turn off the heat. Turn up the air."

Arlington flinched. "What?"

"Nevermind, I'll do it." Constantine grabbed at the temperature control and cranked it as low as it would go. Though the temperature fell immediately, it would still be a few minutes more before it would be optimal for Constantine's purposes."

A devilish hiss came from the back window as the demon swung his whip of fire and it clashed with the rear window.

Arlington jerked the wheel to and fro as best he was able as he turned onto the highway. Other cars honked and swerved around him, only some of whom were away of the monster on their trail.

"It's winter out there!" It wasn't cold enough to elicit the chatter of teeth, but Arlington's did anyway. "Turn the heater back on!"

"Don't you dare touch the temperature." Constantine held out his hands to the ducts as they blasted cold air toward him. He cringed a little as he absorbed the ever more chilling air into his body and began to utter an incantation. He was interrupted when Arlington swung the car to the left and the blazing whip took out the rearview mirror on Constantine's side. The turn nearly threw the sorcerer into his client. "Jesus Christ! Take it easy!"

Arlington glared in his direction an extra second before he turned back toward the roads. "You will not take the Lord's name in vain."

Constantine rolled down his window again as the icy energy flowed through his body. "That's what I love about all you religious types. You really got your priorities straight."

The demon in red increased his speed as Constantine leaned out the window with a shiver through his body. The creature pulled back its whip of fire and took another crack in the taxi's direction. Constantine met the attack with a burst of icy energy. For the first time since Arlington had appeared, the demon lost his smile as the blast of frost extinguished his whip and threw him backwards into an oncoming truck. A honk and a crashing sound was good enough for Constantine to turn back around.

"C-c-can we please turn the h-heat back on now?"

Constantine sneered. "You whine too much. You didn't just channel all that cold air through your body now did you?" The sorcerer looked back out the window as Arlington continued to increase his speed. The demon would be on their trail again soon enough, he knew it, but the attack had at least bought them some time.

As Arlington sped toward Gotham, his shivers of cold began to subside, but he couldn't stop an occasion twitch. "Mr. Constantine?" There was no answer. "Mr. Constantine, I need another favor."

"Then you're gonna need to put a lot more pounds in my pocket."

"Please… I don't have any more money on me." Though everything Arlington said seemed to drip fear and paranoia, a sudden calm came over his voice. One that had the effect of making him sound even more terrified. "This could be the world, Mr. Constantine. I'm the only one who knows what's coming. And I may not survive this night…. Please?"

Constantine breathed a deep sigh, felt around in the pocket of his coat and found another cigarette. Again he lit it with a quick burst of magic, a much harder task with his body heat still a few degrees below normal. When he finally lit and took a drag from the silk, he asked, "What?"

"I need you to promise to deliver this message if I should fail to," Arlington said. "You magical people, you can take oaths like that and be bound to them, can't you?"

"You're not paying me enough to bind me to anything." Constantine's concern, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with money.

"I'm begging you—you stand to lose your life too. If you say no and I fail, you'll have sealed your fate. I swear—"

"All right, all right. If it'll shut you up." Despite the fierce response, Constantine was not the type of man to be annoyed into taking a magical oath. It was not irritation that drove him, he could sense the very real fear that emanated off of Arlington. And, even if he found it questionable, it did indeed frighten him. "You got a knife or some such?"

Arlington blinked as he turned off the highway. "What?"

"Gonna need blood," Constantine said. "Some of yours and some of mine."

"What? You're—you're going to do witchcraft with my blood? I thought—"

Constantine scowled. "You thought you could make a deal like that and not be involved. Well you were wrong. That's how you make a pact like this, we both need to participate."

A shudder ran through Arlington's body as he reached into his jacket and produced a pocket knife he had somehow slipped past security. "What else?"

"Terms. Solid terms," Constantine said. "If you leave any wiggle room, you're not getting my blood."

"All right, all right." Arlington swallowed his stammers. "If I should fail—"

"If you should die."

Arlington swallowed again. "What?"

"If you run away out of cowardice, you'll have failed and left me with your dirty work. Death is the term."

"What if I'm captured?" Arlington began to stammer again. "I can't help that."

"If you're dead or captured… and you weren't just handing yourself over for either."

"Why would I—"

"I don't take chances. Not with death bonds."

Arlington's already terrible spasms only seemed to get worse with each qualifier. "Fine. If I am, for whatever reason outside of my own will and control, unable to deliver my message, you will deliver it in my place."

"The recipient?"

"Father Garret Day, in the Church of the Holy Redeemer."

"And the message?"

"Do you have something to write it down?"

"It'll imprint, magic bonds do that."

"You need to tell him—" Arlington paused and cleared his throat.

"The one who lives but should not be,

Heir to angel and man, Nephilim is he.

Seeks to pierce the wrathful one,

By the head of Destiny.

Should he hold such, he'll bring demise.

Cinders will be mountains, valleys and skies.

For behold, all God's beauty and creation,

Is damned to darkness in his eyes."

Constantine remained silent for a few seconds before he asked, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It will make sense to the priest."

"If I'm going to deliver it, I outta know what it means!"

Arlington swallowed hard and glared in the rearview window. There was still no sign of the demon, at least for the moment. "I can't tell you that."

"Then I can't agree to this oath."

"Please! You don't understand, this is vital information. I can't just leave it with a nonbeliever—"

Constantine spoke in a snarl. "I believe you're a damn idiot, that good enough for you?"

Arlington opened his mouth to rebut but didn't get an opportunity. Something smashed into the roof of the taxi hard enough to put an indent in the ceiling. Constantine flinched backwards, Arlington screamed. The terrible red creature lurched down onto the hood of the car, the toothy grin on his face again. Arlington hit the brakes and brought the car to a fast stop, but couldn't throw the beast from his place. The demon pulled back his hand and thrust a punch into the glass, cracks spiderwebbed across the window. Constantine and Arlington both jumped out of the car just as a second punch shattered it.

"We're so close!" Arlington said. "Less than a mile now—"

"Then get running!" Constantine rushed past Arlington, a trickle of magic in his feet increased his speed.

Arlington looked back and forth between Constantine and the demon for a moment before he clenched his fists and bent his knees. "Damn it all, no choice then."

The red and white jacket Arlington wore began to glow in the pale, snow-covered night. The red highlights slithered like snakes into the center as his bulk began to shift and grow. As the demon closed the distance between them and Constantine shouted, "Move your ass!" Arlington's chest grew in size and definition as a suit of plate armor between him and the white jacket. His blue jeans similarly shifted to white over plate armor and the red highlights formed a huge, red cross upon his chest. When the whip came at him again, Arlington pulled what looked to be the handle of a sword out from over his back. As the tip of the whip of flame reached him, a dazzling orange light burst from the handle and took the shape of a serrated longsword. As the demon's whip dissipated, the creature took an uneasy step backwards.

"Behold!" Arlington rose the blade high over his head. "I am Azrael, wielder of the blades of Sin and Salvation! You will have power over me no longer, demon! Prepare for judgement!"

The demon and Constantine both stared at the newly empowered Arlington for a moment before he rushed toward the monster that had pursued them so far. Only Constantine managed to notice the smile return to the creature's face. The sorcerer shouted, "Stop!" but was too late.

The sword of orange flame cut straight through the demon's body and out the other side. The beast looked down at the wound before he cackled in Arlington's face.

"My soul has already been damned, you worm!" The demon raised a hand, his fingernails grew as if they were claws and he slashed across Arlington's face. The twitcher-come-warrior shouted and grabbed at his eyes as he fell to his knees. From what seemed to be the infinite recesses of his red cloak, the demon drew a handle of his own, clenched it, and unleashed a blade of flame. "Now it's your turn to think on your sins—"

The demon was struck and forced backwards by another freezing blast. On the sidewalk, Constantine's icy hands dripped with the remnants of the snow whose cold he had utilized. Before the creature could look back toward Arlington, he drew a second handle from his opposite shoulder and thrust it forward. This blade was a bright, cool blue. The strike left the creature momentarily petrified.

"The Sword of Salvation then, monster!" Arlington stood up straight. "Reveal to me your true nature, that I may strike it down!"

The demon shook for a few seconds as if shivering in the cold before it let out a roar. "Azmodus!" With the screech, the creature's face began to widen and split in the center in a sight sickening enough to make Constantine's stomach turn. The left half of the face lost its marble white complexion and, with only its half of the mouth, shouted, "Caraka!" The right half, which continued to morph and change and showed the same blood red as its cloak screeched, "Secuba!" at an inhuman pitch. Through the jerks and spasms of its body it raised its hands again.

Constantine threw another blast of cold. "Abe, you idiot, move—"

The defusing Azmodus grabbed ahold of Arlington by the crusader's shirt he wore over his armor and pushed through the blast from Constantine. "And you do not control me!"

The demon flung Arlington and the Sword of Salvation backwards. Arlington took a step toward Azmodus again but Constantine held him back by his shoulder. "You said we'd be safe if we got to that church. If he's slowed down for the moment, we should go."

With a reluctant nod Arlington and Constantine sprinted back for the taxi, but a renewed strike from Azmodus's whip kept them from entering. They turned again for the street and ran.

Constantine spoke between quick and hard breaths. "Couldn't have busted out the costume any quicker, now could you have?"

"The suit eats away at me." Arlington ran faster than a man of his size and bulk had any right to. "I didn't want to activate it. Forgive me."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Just keep it moving."

If Arlington was to be believed, the church would come into their periphery at any moment. But if that was going to happen, Constantine had no idea what he was looking for. And judging by the twin roars that soon united into one, they wouldn't make it on time. Constantine searched up and down the street for something to aid their situation and took note of the small shop to his right.

Luck was a funny thing for Constantine. He would never be lucky enough that the demons would be asleep while he was working, but he could always count on something to give him a fighting chance. The small store bore a sign that read, Ms. Alesha's New Age Shop. And to him, that was as good as an armory.

"Arlington, in there!" He waved his client toward the shop.

"What? What are you—"

The store was closed that night, Constantine broke through the glass with his shoulder and silenced the alarm system with a point of his finger. The wary Arlington rushed in after him as Constantine thumbed over rocks adorned with runes and ground plant matter.

"You can't fight him with any of this!" Arlington backed away, appalled, and bumped into a shelf full of occult books. "You can't use demonic powers against another demon!"

"Pagan gods and fairies aren't demons, you thick headed pain. And that was an awful fine job your first sword did, wasn't it" Constantine crossed past a wall of spiritual crystals and grabbed several bags of incense. He dumped the contents onto the table that held the cash register and arranged them into a pentacle.

Azmodus burst through the door just as Constantine completed his arrangement and slapped a hand on the counter. The many tiny particles of incense flew off the surface, clung to the demon and drove him backwards. The ground bits of plant expanded rapidly, as if the process of their production had been reversed at super speed. The fragrant dust formed into green moss and wood until it left Azmodus trapped to the wall in a straitjacket of plants.

After a few seconds, Constantine managed to steady his breathing. "All right… that'll hold him, for a bit at least. Let's get out of here." Arlington again drew the blue Sword of Salvation, but Constantine commanded, "Enough! I said let's get on with it."

Azmodus struggled against his bounds as the two stepped past him and toward the broken door. As they reached it however, both stumbled and pressed against what looked to be totally open air.

"Sorry boys," Azmodus said. "It's never that easy."

While some invisible barrier kept them at bay the flames that seemed to burn within the creature's cloak rose again and began to devour his restraints. Constantine swallowed and began to feel at the invisible barrier. When Arlington did nothing, he shouted, "Oi! A hand here? Anything?"

Though Azmodus was still stuck in place the fire quickly spread to the surrounding bookcases and racks of birthstones. The smoke in the air was thick as the incenses within caught fire.

"A fine effort," the demon said. "But I'll burn you both alive anyway!"

Arlington looked down at the Sword of Salvation in his hand, chewed at his lip, and turned toward Constantine. "I can cut through his barrier."

"Can you?" Constantine stepped aside, but Arlington shook his head.

"He'll be free of your branches in a few moments. Even if we escaped he'd just keep chasing us. And I don't know how much run you have left in you."

"Piss off and open the damn door!"

The first of the wooden restraints that held Azmodus began to crack.

"My knife, John, I need it."

"What?"

"I can take care of the demon, at least for a while, but I don't think I'll survive. I need you to make the oath."

Constantine grit his teeth and looked back and forth between his ally and the demon who had chased them so far. As the smoke and temperature rose, Constantine drew the knife out of his coat and slid the blade along the back of his hand.

Arlington frowned. "Why did you just—"

Constantine snapped, "It's less painful and less prone to infection! Only a bloke who's seen too many movies would cut the palm." He tossed Arlington the knife. "Get on with it."

Arlington made the cut as both began to wheeze and the demon finally broke free. Constantine held his hand to Arlington's, their blood mingled for a single moment and Arlington thrust the Sword of Salvation through the invisible barrier. With a tear he motioned to Constantine, who ran outside as fast as his legs could carry him.

The warrior in white turned slowly back toward Azmodus, who had just recovered his stance. "You've left your promise in the hands of a warlock," Azmodus said. "The Lord will not forget that."

Arlington drew the Sword of Sin and raised both blades. "John Constantine is a good man. The Lord will not forget that either… I can only imagine what the two swords together will do against a demon."

Azmodus hissed and lunged. Arlington held his ground, pulled back his swords, and thrust.

The combined power of the Swords of Sin and Salvation had the power to spiritually cripple any human who came in contact with them. As Azmodus was a demon and already more spirit than man, they had a very different effect. The magic-influenced, corporeal form Azmodus had taken was, broken on an internal level when he was stabbed with the two swords at once. The effect of which was a release of energy similar to splitting a magical atom.

An overwhelming, deafening explosion threw Constantine from just outside the door onto the sidewalk. Magical flames of all colors danced within the wreckage of the new age shop as the sorcerer looked on in disbelief.

After nearly two minutes in stunned silence, Constantine became acutely aware of the lack of sensation in his left hand. He looked down at the wound from his cut, which was already scabbed over, and he should have left a surge of magical energy by then. And, no matter how he thought about it, he couldn't remember the bit of mad poetry Arlington had recited. Which could only mean—

"You stubborn bastard!" Constantine wasn't sure if he should laugh or feel horrified. When the confusion passed, he grabbed two handfuls of snow to absorb their low temperatures, and began to dig through the burning rubble. After a few minutes of doing so, he heard a call from the street.

"Anyone in there?" It was a young woman's voice. A young woman, it sounded like, who was not used to shouting. Constantine rose from his kneel and looked toward the Asian girl on the sidewalk.

"I wouldn't come up here!" He called. "It's a rotten mess, don't know what's still lingering!"

"What happened here?"

Constantine jumped as a second figure stepped into the rubble. When he looked up at her he flinched a moment before he accepted the woman simply had no face.

With a glance back toward the street, he saw the Asian woman as she ran ever closer. Further into the street, a third woman parked a car outside the shop and ran after the first of them.

As the three strangers closed in on Constantine, he took a hard swallow and motioned at the shop's debris. "Someone's under here. Still alive. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. Give me a hand clearing this and help me find him."

"Uh, not to complain mister, but this place is still on fire," The other woman from the street, who Constantine could now identify as a short-haired brunette, said.

"Ah, right." Constantine put out a hand and excised his excess moisture into the air around them, which fell like a light rain and extinguished the fires.

The five, all strangers to one another except for Cassandra and Sadie, pushed and dug at the scorched rubble. The remains of bookcases and shelves littered the ground, it was not a simple effort.

"What about this?" Cassandra stepped over to the downed counter and tried to push it up.

Constantine cringed. "Gonna hate to see what shape he's in if he is." He stepped forward and joined her in the push.

The Question looked down toward Sadie and said, "They'll need us to."

Sadie stifled a scream when she got a look at her faceless visage, managed to swallow it, and stepped up with the others. "This night got weird in a hurry."

With their combined force the four managed to roll the huge wooden counter out from on top of Arlington, who laid indented into the floor, bloody, mutilated and barely able to draw breath.

Sadie stepped back and held a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Cassandra fell to her knees and shook him. When she felt the cold steel of his plate armor, she tried to strip it away in case she'd need to try CPR.

As Arlington looked up at her, the mere act of lifting his eyelids looked exhausting, he managed to say, "Young lady… I can sense what a pure soul you are."

Cassandra tried to pull at his armor, but it would not budge. "Save your breath," she said. "Hurt. Very very badly."

"Don't weep for me." Arlington wheezed violently as he touched her hand. "I'm sorry… I would stop this if only I could. Forgive me."

Before she could ask what he meant, a fantastic light shined off of Arlington's armor. The mass of plating and the crusader's shirt looked to melt off of his body, curl around Cassandra's arm and meld into her body. And at the same time, the words of Arlington's message rang in the front of Constantine's mind and the cut on his hand began to tingle.

-000-

Unknown to the four, a fifth figure watched as the suit of living armor climbed up and upon Cassandra's body.

The fifth was not within their vicinity. He wasn't even in the state of New Jersey. He stood alone in a Chicago cemetery. There were many blank spaces in his memory and he didn't know why the vision had appeared to him. But he knew he had to act on it. He knew he had to make for Gotham.

Chapter Two

The dazzling light ran up and down Cassandra's body from her neck to her fingers and toes. Cassandra looked down at her arms as her size dissipated, as if the glow had consumed her clothes and clung like a second skin. Sadie yelped and covered her eyes and, as Cassandra turned, she the two strangers do the same. A few seconds after the gleam settled, it reshaped itself again and increased in density. Cassandra tried to hide her confusion and disgust as the shining layer began to dissipate and left her hands covered in a black substance. It was only after half of a minute of looking over herself as the black moved up her arms and legs she realized it felt like Kevlar. It slowly dawned upon her as it finished that it didn't feel all that different from the costume she usually wore, save for the countless tiny abrasions that made it look more like chainmail than a modern, bulletproof suit. For just a moment, the glow relented.

Cassandra did not know why her heart sank as she felt it flow reinvigorate toward her neck. Somehow, she suspected what was coming, even if she shouldn't have been able to. The light blazed white hot as it descended down her chest, split at her waist and the two halves extended slightly over her upper legs. The shine settled into a white surcoat and a last, thin line ran down from her sternum to the bottom of her abdomen. The glow opened like a book and formed a huge bat, colored in gold, decorated like stained glass. The bat symbol served as the surcoat's Jerusalem Cross, with the same white cross of Cassandra's Angel costume formed within it.

As the realization of the glow's form dawned on Cassandra, she held a hand over her mouth to contain a gasp as she looked toward Sadie. Part of her mind shouted that the other two could plainly see her as well, but they were not her first concern. As the light finally faded away and it looked like Sadie's eyes had adjusted, per pupils almost instantly dilated.

Despite Cassandra's focus elsewhere, it was the Question who spoke first. "Huh, what are the odds?"

Constantine, who stood behind her, asked, "Sorry, is this supposed to mean something?" From his angle, he couldn't see the symbol.

Sadie opened her mouth to respond, paused, and swallowed. She opened it again and needed a second swallow before she could say, "So… so you're the Angel?"

Cassandra thought about lying for a moment before she submitted to a reluctant nod. The Brit stepped around to examine the costume from the front.

"Blimey," he said. "What's this supposed to be?"

Cassandra broke her look with Sadie and bowed her head toward the blackened ground. "I'm sorry. Couldn't tell you, I had to—"

Sadie interrupted her with a little chuckle that quickly escalated into a burst of laughter brought on by stress and honest amusement. Once she could catch her breath, she said, "I knew it! I've been thinking about it for years and telling myself it sounds stupid, but I knew it!"

"Not to interrupt this… this." Constantine stepped between them. "But Arlington," he pointed toward the body of his client. "Blew this place to bits fighting a demon. And in my experience, even if you slay a demon's corporeal form, they usually don't stay dead for long."

As Sadie struggled to regain her composure, he asked, "Demons? You're joking right?"

Cassandra scowled toward Constantine. "Who? A new gang? Thieves?"

"Afraid not," said Constantine. "The real thing. Out from the real depths of the very real hell."

Sadie got one more laugh in before she slowly settled and, when she met Constantine's glare, felt the color drain from her face. "Oh my—" she stopped and held in the "God" for Cassandra's sake. "You're serious, aren't you?"

The Question stepped up to Constantine's side. "I don't know if it's related, but I just took out some crazed men in hoods a few blocks away at the Church of the Holy Redeemer."

Constantine flinched. "What? What were they after? The priest, is he still alive?"

"They were after him," she said. "But there was a passageway or a safe room, something like that, under the altar he escaped into."

The magician both groaned and smiled within the same breath, as if he wasn't sure of whether or not he had truly hoped to be free of his task. As the two spoke, Cassandra's eyes fell upon the dead man on the floor, garbed then in a simple jacket and blue jeans. With his dying breath he had passed on the armor he wore, Cassandra was still left with the question of why.

"I don't know who they're working for, but I've dealt with a lot of these dogmatic gang types in my time," the Question said. "The sun's already set, I'll bet they'll be stationed near that church and maybe watching for me the rest of the night."

"We should probably make some headway then." He turned back toward the two young women. "I don't know how, or I guess even if, those cultists are related to my demon," he pointed toward Cassandra, "Or if they have any interest in that armor. But we all just saw a man who may have had a lot of enemies die. We should move quickly."

The Question asked, "You have a car around here? I just taxied."

Constantine uttered a cynical chuckle. "You taxied without a face?"

"It's a mask. You don't want to see underneath it."

Between their exchanges, a now shaking Sadie leaned over to Cassandra. "Uh… I'm sorry but is this… any of this normal for you? Wizards and faceless chicks discussing transportation."

"More than you'd think." It wasn't a comfortable admission but Cassandra made it anyway.

"Well, I only got this far because my client stole a taxi," Constantine said. "And the thing took some damage as we were on our way here."

The dilapidated shop went quiet briefly as the two contemplated the situation before Sadie stepped between them. "Uh, you know, I have a car parked just a few blocks down. If you push some stuff around in the back seat I'll bet I can fit us all in."

For the first time of the night, Constantine gave the young woman a close examination. "You got a gimmick? Can you make it fly or some such?"

Sadie frowned. "What? No. Ten minutes ago I didn't even know I was dating a superhero—"

"You just said—"

"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know what I just said. I didn't know for sure I was dating a superhero. It's just a sedan I can't get the fast food smell out of."

Constantine was about to speak, but the Question did so first. "If anything, something inconspicuous would be better."

Cassandra put out a hand toward the body of Arlington. "What about him?"

Constantine sighed, as if he had hoped he could forget the matter himself. As annoyed as he'd been with Arlington from the minute he'd arrived at his door, the man had given his life for Constantine's. "We can't well just carry his body out of here, now can we?"

"You made it rain in here," Sadie said. "Could you, I don't know, teleport him somewhere else? Somewhere he'd have liked to be laid?"

Constantine scoffed. "I could if I had a pentacle and some runes set up exactly so here, exactly so somewhere else and another person uttering the same incantations. Gonna need to settle for something less elegant for the moment." As he spoke he slowly turned his gaze toward Cassandra. "You, the one who got his armor. What's your name? Did she call you Cassie?"

Sadie had spoken so quickly earlier that Cassandra hadn't even noticed she'd been exposed. She glared at her just as the mistake seemed to dawn on Sadie as well.

"Quit with the looking, this city's probably got a thousand Cassie's in it and I keep secrets well. My name's John if it makes you feel better. John Constantine, if it matters."

Cassandra tried to wave off his words. "What did you want?"

"That's not just a pretty piece of armor he passed to you. I don't know the extent of its abilities, but if definitely did something to you." He tapped the heavy, wooden counter. "I'd like you to try hitting this."

The confusion in Cassandra's mind showed on her face. "Hit it?"

"Yes. Looks to be heavy and solid most of the way through. I want to see what will happen."

On another night, Cassandra may have tried to argue, but she couldn't come up with a good reason not to humor the man. She looked toward the thick wooden counter and threw a kick. Though there was only a little force behind it, the kick smashed straight through the whole six inches of her foot that overlapped and tossed splinters everywhere. Cassandra baulked at her newfound power as, behind her, Sadie muttered, "Holy crap."

Cassandra slowly turned back toward Constantine. "Was strong enough. Don't want this, it's dangerous, it's—"

"Smash up enough indents to cover Arlington's body," Constantine said. "I can seal it to the floor and we can get him out of here when things settle down a bit."

There were a million more questions Cassandra felt she should ask but decided to save them for later. As if out of obligation, Sadie said to Constantine, "I'm Sadie, by the way. If we're all going to be on first-name basis here."

Constantine nodded and looked toward the Question, who stood, arms crossed, a few feet away. "That just leaves you then."

"I'm still in costume," she said. "You can call me Question."

"Sheesh, paranoid much?" Sadie said. "All right, whatever you say."

"If you think I'm paranoid, you should have met my mentor."

Cassandra finished smashing the counter and, to further test her power, easily lowered the counter back over Arlington's body, a task that took the four of them to do a few minutes before. Constantine stepped forward, drew some shapes in the dust that coated the counter and muttered a few words to it. He tried to push the counter, didn't get an inch and nodded his approval. "I don't know exactly what he did, but Arlington was able to recede the uniform back into his street clothes. Try that."

"Try… what?"

Constantine shrugged in frustration. "I don't know what kind of magic that thing's running on, just try to will it free."

Still unsure of what to make of his advice, Cassandra tried to extend her mind out into the layers of armor that covered her body. Far more quickly and easily than she'd have expected, the Kevlar and surcoat receded and reformed into the same jacket and jeans she had worn in.

"All right, cool." Sadie turned to exit the shop. "Let's get to my car then. Quick."

Before taking a step, the Question said, "Wait. Just how old are you?"

Sadie frowned. "You think I can't drive or something? I'm a sophomore in college, I'm twenty-one."

"It's not that," the Question said. "This is just a lot to ask of you. Especially if you've never encountered something like this before."

"Well, you guys said we're all kind of stuck together now, right? So if I've gotta be designated driver tonight, I guess I will be."

The four unexpected allies retreated to Sadie's car. At least in that moment, there didn't seem to be anyone tracking or pursuing them. As Sadie climbed into the front seat, she asked, "So where am I going?"

"Dad could help," Cassandra said.

Sadie hesitated. "Um, I know who your dad is and I know who you are in the outfit… I'm kind of starting to draw my own conclusions from that alone. You sure he'd want these guys following us in, given what they know?"

"Mind not talking about us like we're not here?" Constantine shoved a few pieces of clothing into the center of the back seat so he could sit down.

Cassandra leaned forward in the front seat and thought for a moment. "Batman has safe houses. Many. Could hide out there for tonight."

"Are you serious?" Sadie scratched the back of her head. "I guess that sounds pretty obvious now that I think about it."

Cassandra pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. "Still need to know where to go." There was a number that could reach Alfred even in the Batcave, he would know where to go.

As the Question seated herself, Sadie hit the gas and the car jerked out of place onto the street. The Question shouted, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get you guys out of here." Sadie spoke before a line of slowed traffic forced her to decrease speed. "Oh crap, I'll bet the cops just found John's taxi and that store you blew up."

Constantine snapped. "I didn't blow it up!"

After the third ring, Alfred answered. "Miss Cassandra? Are you well?"

"Need a safe house," Cassandra said. "Closest to Bayside Skating Rink."

"What? I thought you were off duty tonight. Has something happened?"

"Long story, need a place to go first."

"All right, all right." Alfred paused and the sound of keyboard taps were audible. "There's one about three miles north. It's a high rise apartment on the intersection of thirty-fifth and Lester."

"Thank you." Cassandra looked to Sadie and repeated, "Thirty-fifth and Lester."

Sadie nodded as they slowly passed the red and blue flashes at the remains of the new age shop. "Uh huh. Okay, pretty sure I know where that is."

Constantine looked toward the scene as they drove by, the Question kept what could be assumed to be her eyes to watch the cars behind them. It wasn't as if she'd be able to identify any cultists outside of their robes anyway, but paranoia had always been one of her mentor's strongest qualities.

The traffic held for a about a mile, which took about three times as long as it should have thanks to bad luck with stoplights. Cassandra laid back as deep as she could manage without crowding the Question and shut her eyes. The night had been going so well, why was this happening?

After a few minutes in relative silence, Sadie said, "So, um, not to stir up old memories, but we obviously need to talk about this."

Just as Sadie had predicted, those were words Cassandra had hoped to never hear again. "I know."

"… Are you the first lesbian superhero?"

Cassandra opened her eyes and looked toward Sadie. "What?"

At the same time, the Question uttered, "Ha."

Sadie frowned. "Why is that funny?"

Cassandra asked, "Is that your question?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I forget sometimes, first bisexual superhero?"

More to participate than to state the fact, Constantine imitated the Question's, "Ha!" before he added, "This sounds like a bad joke. 'What do you call two lesbians and a pair of bisexuals on the run from a cult on the way to a hideout? Berlin, 1940.'"

The whole car went quiet again for a few beats. Somehow the Question managed to pass Constantine an eyeless glare before Sadie said, "Wow, that was dark."

"I'm not in a lot of stories with happy endings."

Cassandra shook her head as if to force Constantine's words out of her head. "That's really your first question?"

"I mean, yeah," Sadie said. "Being the girlfriend of the first gay, bi, whatever, superhero? That'd be just about the coolest thing in the world." She playfully bumped Cassandra with her elbow and her words came faster afterwards. "Not that I'm ungrateful. This is really, really awesome to begin with."

In spite of the mounting insanity of the night, Cassandra couldn't keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks as a little smile crossed her lips. "Awesome?"

"I thought you were awesome anyway, don't get me wrong. But this? This is insane." Sadie took a deep breath to reorder her thoughts. "You've been knocking around criminals and terrorists since before we were dating, maybe a long time before. That's badass."

From the back seat, Constantine mumbled toward the Question, "How long you think this hero worship's going to last before she realizes we're a rotten lot to get mixed up with?"

"Don't you dare give them any trouble right now." The Question spoke almost silently. "That Sadie girl is brand new to all of this, and the other girl is a lesbian wearing her religion on her sleeve. She's probably stressed enough."

Constantine scoffed as he turned away from the Question and tried to ignore the gushing in the front seat. "Didn't you hear? She had to correct herself, Cass isn't a member of your team, she's one of mine."

Just as Sadie pulled up to an enormous building of freshly constructed steel at Alfred's recommended spot, Cassandra's phone rang. Alfred asked, "Have you arrived?"

"Just did," Cassandra said.

"There should be an underground parking garage. The passcode in is 32271939."

Cassandra covered the phone with a hand and relayed, "Underground parking. Password 32271939."

The spot to turn in was just ahead. "Got it," Sadie said.

"Miss Cassandra, not to intrude," Alfred said. "But who is accompanying you?"

A few lies came to mind before she bit a lip and just said, "It's an emergency."

"Dick and Barbara sometimes told Master Wayne the same thing before their little excursions. But Barbara already knew the truth. If you're trying to hide something—"

As Sadie rolled up to the garage's number pad, Cassandra insisted, "I'm not! Not!"

"If you are really having someone else up there as an emergency precaution and can't give me an explanation right now, I understand. But if that's the case, I hope you won't object to Master Wayne coming for an update himself."

In a combination of exasperation, Cassandra said, "Please!"

As Sadie parked. The layers of underground made her signal to Alfred weaken and she nearly hung up when he didn't respond for a few seconds. Finally, there came the faint instruction, "Nineteenth floor. Room thirty-nine."

"Thank you."

There were a few dozen cars parked on the first floor of the underground, but Sadie found a space quickly and the four made for the elevator in the space's center. Thanks to the size of the building, they all had a few minutes to wait before the lift arrived.

Sadie cast another look at the Question and tried to stifle a shudder. "You going to wear that thing the rest of the night?"

"My face is even more conspicuous at this point." The Question made no attempt to hide her annoyance. "Leave it be."

The elevator dinged and opened for the four. A single tall, business-type man looked up at them with vague interest. As he did, he baulked at the Question's lack of face and scurried away into the garage.

"I told you," Sadie said.

"I just told you to leave it."

Nineteen floors, a brief search and the reentering of a code later, the four finally put a locked door behind them. The "safe house" looked like an enormous hotel suite, complete with a living room, a kitchenette and a pair of bedrooms with queen-sized beds. The four gravitated into the living room, which sat covered in clean white carpet, a black leather couch, two similar recliners, and a large TV mounted to the wall.

"Blimey." Constantine whistled to himself. "Batman keeps it opulent."

"I'll say," Sadie said. "Sheesh, I figured it would be nice but this is gorgeous."

"Batman will be here soon." It felt so strange for Cassandra to say it to a group of strangers. "He will have advice. We should wait."

After the four had absorbed their surroundings in their own ways, they all moved about. Constantine sat down on the couch and switched on the news in the hopes of getting some reaction to the scene he'd partaken in. The Question stepped into the kitchenette and rolled up her mask just enough to sip from a bottle of water, an act Cassandra and Sadie watched with a guilty curiosity.

After what seemed like a long wait but was perhaps ten minutes, a dark form landed on the balcony outside and obstructed the Gotham skyline. With a slide of the door, Batman entered their midst.

"Well, look who finally made it." Constantine sat up from his laying position on the couch. "Been a while."

Batman gave a small nod as he looked between Constantine, "John," and the Question. "I know some of you." He then looked down toward Sadie. "Some only by word of mouth."

For the first time, Sadie listened as carefully as she could and it occurred to her he sounded just a little like Bruce Wayne. With an iron will, she managed to swallow her reaction to that revelation to save for later.

"I know Cassandra wouldn't have asked you all up to one of my safe houses if it wasn't totally necessary. So would someone like to explain what is going on here?"

"Think I've got the most complete understanding of events," Constantine said. "It started when this loon came knocking on my door an ocean ago."

As he spoke there came a pound on the door to the apartment. Everyone gave the door a hesitant glance before Batman stepped over to it can called, "Hello?"

The knocker paused for a few seconds before he said, "Forgive me but… is that the Batman?" He spoke with a British accent more rounded and refined than Constantine's.

Batman scoffed loud enough to be heard in the hopes of misdirecting anyone who wouldn't know for sure. "Who's asking?"

"My name is Michael Lane," he said. "I was sent by the Order of Saint Dumas. It seems some of our dissenters have made some trouble in your city."

Constantine raised an eyebrow. "Dumas? That's who Arlington said he was with."

Batman asked, "Who?"

"But it could very well be the same people who attacked that church," the Question said. "They were some kind of dedicated Christian type, I saw their leader, he refused to desecrate a communion host."

Sadie cut in. "Is anyone else freaked out that he found us here? I don't want to open the door."

"Everyone stand at the ready." Batman stepped up to and unlocked the apartment door. "I have contacts within the Order, some of them are worth trusting."

Batman opened the door slow enough to make it creek. Constantine put up his fists, the Question took a battle stance. Cassandra felt just a little of the glow flow over her again, as if the armor would cover her the moment she gave it permission.

Out from the hallway stepped a tall, muscular man with shaved head and dark skin. As he caught all of their hesitant looks, he raised his hands to show they were empty. "I apologize, I wish I could have given you more warning, but the Order felt it was best to send word as fast as we could."

It was Batman who asked, "Send word of what?"

"Our organization is locked in a civil war, Batman. And very soon, many people could be caught in the crossfire."

Chapter 3

The tall, toned figure waited for Batman to motion him in before he took a step. His movements were slow and deliberate as he scanned the faces (and lack of face) around the safe house. Cassandra and Sadie edged closer to the edge of the couch to allow him space to sit down. Lane smiled at them, said "Thank you," and sat.

Constantine said, "You're one of Arlington's buds, huh?"

"I knew him mostly by reputation," Lane said. "We didn't meet under the best of circumstances. I was the next in line to claim that uniform he wore, and Abraham hated the idea of surrendering it."

As Batman stepped into the center of the room, he crossed his arms and scowled. "You're talking about the Suit of Sorrows, aren't you?"

Cassandra clutched and ran a hand over her clothing as a tiny shudder ran through her.

"I am," Lane said.

"The two of you don't seem to be giving this situation the proper attention, so I'll have to do it." The Question stepped out from the kitchen. "How did you find us here so quickly? No one else here finds that suspicious?"

"I am bound to the movements of the Suit of Sorrows," Lane said. "I sensed it when it crossed the seas and hoped to lead Abraham safely to his destination. Unfortunately, it seems some of our dissidents must have reached him first."

Constantine scoffed. "If a demon in red is what you'd call a dissident, I suppose."

Lane's eyes widened. "A demon? What?"

"Yeah, called himself Azmodus or some such. Arlington stabbed the bastard with a pair of swords and atomized 'im, though knowing his lot, that won't keep him down for long."

Lane cast his eyes on the floor and made a sign of the cross. "I feared for terrible things, but I didn't foresee something like this."

Batman leaned against the stand beneath the television. "Cassandra, Sadie, it probably isn't necessary for the two of you to hear this—"

"Actually, I'm afraid it is, for her at least." Lane gestured toward Cassandra. "It seems she has become the new host of the Suit of Sorrows."

Batman flinched. "What?"

"Wasn't trying to be," Cassandra said. "Don't even know what happened."

"The suit just clung to her," Sadie said. "We all saw it happen."

Lane shook his head. "I would never wish this on someone without years of preparation. But it is an unfortunate truth that the armor has chosen you, and you are now tied with the coming conflict."

A brief silence followed before Cassandra looked toward Sadie. "But not you. You can still—"

"Yeah, like hell I'm gonna miss this," Sadie said. "If this is your fight, it's my fight too."

A small smile crossed Lane's hardened face. "It seems you have a loyal friend at your side."

Sadie opened her mouth to speak, but the Question stepped forward and spoke before she could. "Some of those dissenters you mentioned, I caught them trying to kill a priest named Garret Day. Can you explain that?"

"There is much I could say, but as much I still need to know." He looked toward Constantine. "Tell me, do you know why Arlington came here?"

"He had a message to deliver," Constantine said.

"And do you know what that message was?"

Constantine nodded and every eye came to settle on him. After a pause, he said, "But, like an idiot, I took a blood oath on the matter. I can only share that information with his intended recipient."

"Keeping a promise is noble," Lane said. "But much could be at stake—"

Constantine snapped, "I didn't make a promise. I signed a contract with my blood. If I were to try and speak that message, my tongue might literally tie itself, and I'm not taking that risk."

Lane showed a few seconds of reluctance before he nodded. "I have heard of spells that compel people to keep their oaths, I am just surprised Arlington was talked into one. Let alone with one such as yourself… I mean no disrespect of course."

A wry little smile crossed Constantine's face as he mumbled under his breath. "No disrespect he says."

"As it stands now, I have little doubt there are others still perusing Father Day. And between carrying his message," Lane looked toward Constantine, "Protecting him," he looked toward the Question, "And bearing the Suit of Sorrows," he looked toward Cassandra, "All of you have become their enemies."

"But who are the they you're talking about?" Batman said. "You called them dissenters and said you're in the midst of a civil war."

"Indeed." Lane said. "I do not know what has put brother against brother within the order. But I have little doubt Father Day knows much, and whatever Arlington sought to bring him must have been important." Lane's face tightened. "Important enough to make a pact with a demon to kill him. Something I have little doubt they'll hesitate to do again."

It was, after some contemplation, that Sadie asked the question everyone else was mulling over. "So, uh, where exactly do you recommend we go from here?"

"Thus far you have all been safe here," Lane looked toward Batman. "This unit has its own protections, I would expect, doesn't it?"

"It does," Batman said. "But how do we know there won't be others like you? You said it yourself, you are bound to the travel of the Suit of Sorrows."

Cassandra had heard that phrase for the last time and rose from her seat. "He can take it back." She looked down at the winter coat and shirt the costume had transformed into. "Just tell me how to get it off."

Lane breathed a heavy sigh and clasped his hands together. Batman stepped forward and clutched Cassandra's shoulder. "It isn't that easy," he said.

"The suit chooses a wearer worthy of its powers." Lane did not look toward Cassandra, as if he was ashamed of his words. "It can be removed, but only by one with authority over its powers. Something more limited, in this vicinity, to Father Day."

"Then we go to him," Cassandra said. "John with his message, me to return it."

As the thought of journeying back into the winter's night and potentially dangerous streets crossed Sadie's mind, the young woman gained a new appreciation for how tired Cassandra sometimes seemed during the day.

"His church was under attack," the Question said. "I don't know where he's gone, but he certainly isn't there anymore."

"We have more than a few sanctuaries of our own," Lane said. "I believe he is still safe, somewhere."

Constantine gave another hard look at Lane before he spoke so quietly, no one could hear what he was saying. After a few movements of his mouth, he began to painfully wheeze and choke. The rest of the room looked in his direction as he brought his breathing back under control. "Well, I'm still bound to my bloody pact. That means he must still be alive."

"I can consult with those I know remain loyal to the old ways," Lane said. "I can help you to find Father Day. But we are already well into the night, when the dissenters can move and strike most freely. I think, for all of your safety, it is better to wait until morning to look for him again."

Batman gave a long, hard look at the five assembled before him. Out of the dozens of people he would have guessed could have crossed paths that night, this seemed like one of the strangest combinations. "Cassandra, a word in the other room."

Sadie sat up straighter as Cassandra rose. "Um, you want me to come too?"

"I'll have words for you—" Batman paused and swept the room again with his eyes, "All of you, in a few minutes. I want to talk to her first."

Cassandra extended a hand toward Sadie, who accepted it, and she squeezed it for just a moment before she followed behind her father. Batman flicked on the light in one of the bedrooms and revealed it to be pleasantly, if sparsely, furnished with a soft bed, a wooden dresser with a large mirror atop it and a ceiling fan. He then shut and locked the door. As he turned to face her, he slipped the cowl from his face so the two could look at one another properly.

Bruce asked, "Is there anything you aren't telling me?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Nothing to hide yet."

With his arms crossed, Bruce bowed his head as he pondered. "I need to talk to Jean Paul, see if he knows anything about this conflict Lane just described…. That suit, how does it feel?"

The thought of the seemingly living cloth that bound itself invisibly to Cassandra's body made her feel sick. "Don't like it. Saw what it can do, too powerful."

"The Suit of Sorrows—" Bruce paused when he saw the way the words seemed to disgust Cassandra and took note to be more mindful. "Absorbs the power of its previous wearers and instills it in whoever it comes to next. I wore it once myself, years ago."

Despite her concerns, Cassandra managed to swallow a little of her concern. "You did?"

"It gave me an incredible surge when I needed it, and far too much power when I didn't." The eyes of the father and daughter met for the first time since his arrival. "If we can keep you from getting into a fight while you're wearing it, that would be for the best. But if it comes to that, you'll need more control than you've ever had in your life."

Cassandra remembered the heavy counter she'd pushed and busted in back at the destroyed shop, the sent a chill through her. "Whatever it takes."

"I don't want all of that power to hurt anyone worse than totally necessary, least of all you." Bruce put a hand on Cassandra's shoulder.

Nasty memories from two years prior threatened to worm their way into her mind. "Thank you." After a short beat between them she said, "Meant to be home later tonight. Call Alfred or Rafal, make sure Ali has food."

Bruce nodded. "All right, I will. But you aren't staying here tonight."

Cassandra's eyes widened for a moment. "What?"

"Even with the best of intentions, Lane still proved this safe house has been compromised. I'll arrange with Tim and Stephanie to get you all transported later tonight and a few eyes on the building until then."

The thought of protest came to the front of Cassandra's mind. She was already tired and confused enough for what was supposed to be her night off, she wanted more time to process. But Bruce's argument made sense enough, she decided, and accepted his words.

"I've worked with Constantine and Montoya before, I believe they can both be trusted, but I want to speak to them alone as well."

Cassandra nodded for a moment before she asked, "Montoya?"

"The Question, the one in the mask," Bruce said. "She used to work for the Gotham PD, for the most part her track record was impressive and reliable. But the man who wore that mask before her could be a real wildcard, I want to be sure she won't turn into a liability."

As Bruce pulled his cowl back on, Cassandra turned toward the door and exhaled a long breath. "And Sadie?"

"I was going to speak with her next," Bruce said. "And, if you're willing, I think she would feel better if you were in here with her."

Cassandra had actually thought for a moment she'd have to fight for the right to remain in the room for their confrontation, so Bruce's recommendation made her feel a little better. She unlocked the door and called, "Sadie." She turned around on the couch and stepped into the bedroom as Cassandra motioned her in.

As Sadie stepped through the threshold into the room, she took what seemed to be a long-held swallow. "Um, hi there," she said to Batman.

"I'm sure this is all new to you," Batman said. "Cassandra's never been one to reveal our secrets. I believe this is the first time we've met in person."

Sadie scratched the back of her head and tried to settle on a smile or a frown for a moment. "Uh, well, not exactly—"

"I don't know who you think I am under this mask," Batman said. "But I'm not going to tell you, and your suspicions are not something you want to start sharing."

Cassandra cringed a little. She knew Bruce had every reason to be harsh but had really hoped Sadie would avoid bringing out that side of him.

Despite his words, Sadie laughed a little. "No, no, that isn't what I meant. I was, like, nine. I was out at a haunted house for Halloween with my brother, but it was being run by one of those nutjobs… Calendar Man, or whatever he calls himself. You busted up the operation before anything dangerous happened and led all of us out of there. You probably don't remember that, but y'know, I never forgot."

Although he had no visible reaction, Cassandra was sure Bruce felt proud to hear those words from Sadie. She was sure the thought had softened him a little inside.

"I remember that night, though you'll have to forgive me for not recognizing you specifically."

"I mostly just remembered being ticked off that I didn't get to go on that haunted house tour, but ever since I've been old enough to get what really happened, I've wanted to say thank you," Sadie said. "So, thank you."

It was hard to notice beneath the costume, but Cassandra could see Bruce's stance slacken, ever so slightly.

"And, listen," she continued. "Even if you're not who I think you are and you've never really met me before, I've been dating your sidekick for two and a half years now, barring a couple months I was figuring some stuff out. She's… she's important to me, okay?"

Cassandra was put off by this secondary statement for a moment, but it did make her smile a little.

"I don't know if you've had this same talk to the girlfriends or boyfriends of your other team members or whatever, but I'm not going to blab to anybody." Perhaps appropriately, Sadie's words with more speed and less thought after that. "I love Cassie, and I seriously thought she was a badass before. But, you know, this is obviously ten times crazier than I thought it was, and there is no way I'm going to tell anybody about it. I promise both of you your secret's safe with—"

Batman raised a hand and Sadie stopped talking. "I appreciate that. All of it," he said. "And I know she feels much the same about you. As long as this case ties back to you, we're going to ensure your protection." Batman shifted slightly and Cassandra recognize the intensity had returned to his stance. "But in spite of your words, I still need to make myself clear. You know something that very few people do now, and it's knowledge that could threaten Cassandra if it travels. I believe that you don't want that." He enunciated his last words slowly and severely. "And I don't want it either."

A small ripple reverberated through Sadie's body and Cassandra almost snapped at Batman for the threat, but Sadie raised one hand and said, "Scout's honor, sir. You know, figuratively speaking."

Batman nodded and stepped past them and back toward the living room. "I'm going to have some of the others come by in a few hours to move you all to another safe house. If I can confirm the coast is clear, they'll drop you off at your cousin's house."

"Hang on, what?" Sadie scowled. "I saw what happened too, I wanna see this thing through. At least until Cassie gets that thing off of her."

"You haven't been trained for this." Batman had discarded harshness in favor of being stern. "This isn't going to be a joyride. No matter how much you admire what we're doing, you're not in a position to go along with it."Sadie opened her mouth to say something more, but Batman ignored her as he opened the door. "I'll discuss matters with the other two in the second bedroom. You two should get some rest, you've still got some travel ahead of you."

As Batman shut the door, Sadie groaned and fell backwards onto the bed. "Well, credit where it's due, he's exactly like I always imagined he'd be."

As Cassandra realized they were finally alone again for the first time since their ice skating adventure, a dozen questions ran through her mind. "Are you mad at me?"

Sadie sat up. "Huh?"

Cassandra held a hand over her mouth as she considered her words. "Lied to you. This whole time."

"I mean, yeah, but you had a perfectly good reason to," Sadie said. "You're literally a superhero, of course I'm not mad about that!"

Just like in the car, Sadie's response had thrown Cassandra off balance. She'd wondered over and over again what this conversation would be like if it ever came, and even the reactions she was most hopeful for were never this positive.

"But, uhh, is there anything else you're not telling me though? You're not seeing anybody else while you're dressed up, right?"

The relief almost made Cassandra laugh. "What? No. Never."

The giggles proved infectious. "You're not an alien or anything, right? You don't have your own little planet Krypton that blew up before you landed here?"

In spite of the night's pains and fears, Cassandra gave into the laughter. "No."

"No big scary, awful stuff that happened in the past that shaped your worldview?"

At that point, Sadie was just trying to make her laugh, but after a few more chuckles, Cassandra stiffened and her look turned somber.

Sadie frowned. "Oh crap, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make fun of you, I wasn't—"

"I know." Cassandra said. A few seconds passed between them before she continued, "We should rest, while we can."

As if she had only then become aware of them, Sadie began to peel off her layers of winter clothing. "Is there anything inside this dresser?" After a few seconds of rummaging, she found a white, men's T-shirt two sizes too big for her. "That'll do for the moment."

Cassandra was still unsure of what the suit of armor with the name she hated so much was going to do when she tried to undress. As Sadie walked to the opposite side of the bedroom to change, Cassandra faced the large mirror and took mental inventory of her actions. Her winter coat came off without issue. She slipped her shoes and socks off with no perceived problems. It was only when she came to shirt that her clothing seemed to start resisting. She only got the garment up to her navel before some outside force seemed to push against her. The shirt wasn't sticking to her and there came no force if she didn't try to pull it off. But any attempt to remove it completely was met with failure.

With a glare into the mirror, Blood rushed into Cassandra's cheeks and she quickly looked away after accidentally getting a brief look at Sadie topless from behind. Sadie really had been eternally patient with Cassandra's struggles regarding physical attraction those last two years. Maybe she'd soon understand the big picture.

After some trial and error with what would and wouldn't come off and in what order, Cassandra managed to settle into the bed in another of the oversized T-shirts and a pair of gym shorts. Sadie flicked off the light and settled into bed next to Cassandra. It was still strange to her to be literally sleeping with someone she wasn't figuratively sleeping with, but she couldn't say she didn't like being snuggled up with her.

"Cassie?" Sadie asked.

"Yes?"

"We'll get through this thing, won't we?"

Cassandra rolled to face Sadie and placed a small kiss on her lips. "Whatever happens, I'll look out for you."

A few seconds and a few sleepy breaths later, Sadie said, "Cassie?"

"Yes?"

"When you wanna talk about whatever that bad thing was, I'm ready to listen."

Cassandra kissed her again but said nothing more. Another night, that one had been long enough already.

Chapter Four

After two hours of sleepless, unfulfilling rest, a knock came at the bedroom door. As Sadie groaned, Cassandra rose and peered out through a tiny crack. Out of sheer lack of connection, the ski mask Stephanie wore might protect her identity from Constantine and the Question, but Cassandra was sure Sadie would see through anything at that point.

"Hey." Stephanie's voice was hushed. "You guy's gonna be ready to blow this popsicle stand in a few minutes?"

Sadie mumbled something to herself as she pushed out of bed and felt around the floor for her clothes. Cassandra nodded.

"Sorry about your secret getting out." Stephanie cringed as a knock came at the door across the hall. "How's she handling it?"

Cassandra put on a tired smile. "Good, actually. Very good."

"Really?"

A little blood made its way into Cassandra's cheeks. "Said it was cool."

"Well listen to that." Stephanie landed a playful hit on Cassandra's shoulder. "Good for you."

As Stephanie opened the door wider, the sudden burst from the living room lights irritated Cassandra's eyes for a moment. Constantine rose off the couch and stretched, someone in another ski mask, probably Tim, stood at the opposite door as the Question stepped out, already back in her uniform.

A groggy Sadie pulled her jeans back on and rubbed her eyes as she stepped up to the door. After a brief examination, she began to sputter with laughter. "Oh my God, no way."

Stephanie shook a finger at her. "I don't know who you think I am—"

"You totally know who I think you are."

After a short pause, Stephanie attempted again with, "Be that as it may—"

"You're not going to wear that thing over your face in the middle of the nigh in the Gotham winter, are you?"

"Don't doubt me, my old mask used to cover way more than this."

Sadie opened her mouth to say something more, but stopped when Cassandra elbowed her. "They're here to help," Cassandra said. "Be good. Play along."

"All right, all right," Sadie said. "But you should probably hear somebody say that when they know enough of you guys, this whole thing starts to unravel when you can see under one mask."

"You blab to anybody and I'm un-inviting you to my wedding." Stephanie put on a sly smile of her own, and turned away before Sadie could argue she could still be the maid of honor's plus one.

Within a few minutes, the four and their guides for the night were assembled in the living room. As the one Cassandra was now sure was Tim corralled them, the Question said, "Look at this, you two don't even look to be out of your twenties yet. I've heard of the Batman having young companions, but this is just too much."

"We've been doing this a long time," Tim said. "We know what we're doing."

"That's how they learn best." Constantine spoke as he tried to shake wrinkles out of his coat. "I've been doing tricks since I was half the size of these brats."

Within minutes, the six stepped back into the hallway and made for the elevators. "We'll be transporting you guys by minivan," Tim said. "Hoping that'll be harmless enough to be inconspicuous."

"If it's got one of them coexist bumper stickers, I might just hurl," Constantine said.

The minivan in the underground garage looked nearly as out of place among the many sports cars as Sadie's sedan did. "Running by Sadie's neighborhood first," Stephanie said. "Then we'll get you guys to the closest safe house from there."

Sadie asked, "Does everyone here really need to know where my cousin's house is?"

"What's anybody going to do with that information?" Constantine said. "Nobody's got less stake in this than you do. Once you're through your door, your part in this's probably finished."

Sadie sighed as she and Cassandra climbed into the back of the sedan. "All right, all right." Under her breath she added, "So much for polite Londoners."

"I'm from Northampton," Constantine said. "London's a hole, she's just good for bringing in business."

As he and the Question sat down in the captain's chairs, she said, "You really like to hear yourself talk, don't you."

"Matter of fact, yes I do."

The night seemed so much darker to Cassandra than when she had arrived only a few hours ago. There was still bustling in the Gotham streets but it had settled since they arrived. Quiet soon overtook the whole car and Sadie leaned against Cassandra as if she was about to fall asleep.

"You stay up all night a lot of the time, don't you?"

Cassandra nodded.

"That insomnia thing was a good excuse. I honestly believed it this whole time."

Cassandra leaned over until their heads rested against one another. "Never liked it. Lying to you."

"Well, I don't have any hard feelings about it," Sadie said. "But I'm glad you don't like lying to me anyway."

If all went well, the minivan would be out of Gotham's downtown within ten minutes. It would only be another ten to the suburb Sadie's cousin lived in, as long as nothing went wrong.

Just as Tim escaped the city limits, something penetrated one of the car's front tires. Stephanie's corner of the minivan smashed into the ground and unleashed a terrible screech. Tim slammed on the brakes as the car's center of gravity was thrown off as everyone's seatbelts kept them just barely in place. Everyone except Constantine, who hadn't bothered to buckle up and hit his face against the back of Tim's seat.

"Goddamn bollocks!" Constantine pushed off the floor and wiped at a line of blood as it oozed from his nose. "Does everyone in this city drive like an arsehole?"

Tim shouted, "It wasn't me! Somebody just took out one of the tires!"

As the van slowed to a stop, Cassandra rose, wide awake, from her spot and climbed out to inspect the damage with Tim and Stephanie. The Question looked back at Sadie and said, "Stay in here," as she followed the others out.

Just as the four had stepped up to the shattered tire came a shout of, "Hold!"

Out from an alleyway behind a small auto mechanic's shop stepped five figures. The Question could tell they came from the same mold as the ones she'd battled near the church, but were clearly of higher rank and more practical mind. Each of the five wore a suit of dark, ballistic-proof armor only interrupted by a bloody red cross in the center of their chests. On their wrists were mounted small guns, and breaks in the armor near the top of the legs suggested additional weaponry stored away. Each of their faces were obscured by rounded helmets with only thin visors for their eyes. As with the ones back at the church, their leader stepped forward as the others formed a V-shape around him.

"Give us the magician," he said. "He is all we've come for."

A small shudder ran through Cassandra's body. The sight of the modernized crusaders, however different it was, conjured up terrible memories.

Stephanie spoke as if she'd read her mind. "Geeze, aren't you guys a little late? We took down that Seraphim creep years ago, didn't you get the memo?"

"Defeating that man and his ilk are points in your favor, girl," the crusader said. "Do not mistake us for them, we only seek peace."

"Oh yeah! Peace, glorious peace!" Constantine pulled himself to the door of the minivan and spat in their direction. "And that's why you sent a demon after me an' one of your own, innit?" All five of the crusaders lifted their wrist-guns toward him as he spoke. "Fair warning, there's a lass not even out of college in also in the car. Hope you peace-loving types don't miss a shot."

From the back seat, Sadie shouted, "What the hell?! Don't use me as a shield!"

"I'm one sticking his mug out the car," Constantine said. "If anything I'm the one shielding you." It wasn't true of course but Constantine had a theory he wanted to test.

With the momentary distraction, Cassandra ran forward and rammed her shoulder into the lead crusader. Even with his thick armor, the strike and the surprise were enough to catch him off balance and throw him backwards with a pained grunt. One of his companions took aim at Constantine but stopped when the magician dodged back into the minivan. As Constantine wanted to confirm, no one was nearly as willing to fire at him if it had the potential to endanger Sadie.

Constantine wiped the blood from his nose and began to smear shapes into the floor. "Awful principled for people who make contracts with demons."

Cassandra stepped back into the line with the rest of the group at the side of the car and raised her fists. As the lead crusader rose to his feet, he drew a short sword out from the side of the armor of his leg. With a shout of, "Deus vult!" the five followed his lead and charged at the car.

The Question slipped out her nightstick, the opponent who rushed out her pulled a mace out from the back of his armor and swung with enough for to toss it from her hands. Tim made a run toward the back of the minivan for his and Stephanie's staffs, a pair with spears in hand thrust them toward himself and his partner to interrupt the motion. The last two set upon Cassandra.

She still only barely understood the power of the uniform that had bonded to her body. If she had willed it to engulf her again, it was only in her subconscious. Both of the crusaders swung their short swords in a wide arc, more to threaten her than land a slash. Cassandra didn't even realize she'd raised her then-armored arms to catch the blows until the swords clashed against the metal of her newly re-equipped armor.

The Question's opponent smashed the mace hard enough to bite into the engine of the minivan. She landed a few punches into his chest, which wasn't hard enough to hurt her knuckles but seemed to absorb whatever she threw. Her armored opponent ignored the strikes, grabbed ahold of her throat and thrust her against the car with enough force to dent the outer shell. For just a moment, the Question wondered if breaking through glass would have been preferable to the dull pain the reverberation of the bulletproof stuff provided.

The crusaders nearest of Tim and Stephanie were the closest to the door that Constantine hid behind. Though the two costumeless heroes were skilled fighters on their own, they were out armor and weaponry against opponents who had both. Each landed a flew blows when a spear thrust was stuck in the minivan, Tim managed to get under his enemy's arms and tackle him, but a single headbutt from the helmet was enough to force him off. After a twist of the crusader's arms and a struggle, Stephanie forced the spear from her enemy's hand and pointed it back at him. After a moment of the threat and a moment of hesitation, however, her opponent dodged the one frightened thrust she attempted. The punch in the face she took was enough to make her see stars and shout in pain.

Sadie gawked at the display outside the car. "You better have a plan, they're getting tossed around out there!"

"You wanna know what happens when you rush magic?" Constantine glared toward her. "Best circumstances, you waste time. More than likely, you set your own head on fire."

As the Suit of Sorrows again took the form from the remains of the new age shop, the two Crusaders Cassandra held at bay stared on in terror. They had expected a fight, even against the power of the suit itself. But they had not anticipated the way its power seemed to radiate off the young woman they had run at. As the last of the light formed a domino mask around her eyes, the crusaders realized, for the first time, they were faced against an Angel.

Angel threw her arms outward and her two adversaries into open stances. She turned her attention first to the man on her left who had appeared to lead the rest. As he tried to regain his stance, his movements seemed oddly sluggish. The younger warrior wasn't aware of just how fast she was moving.

With a turn and a whirl Angel threw a hook punch into the lead crusader hard enough to impound his helmet into his face. The man within shrieked as he hit fell to the ground, but Angel had already turned her focus to his ally. After a leap nearly half her height, Angel delivered her next opponent a roundhouse kick that similarly dented his helmet and knocked him off his feet.

Within the car, Sadie's eyes went wide. "Are you kidding me?"

For a moment, Angel took note of the way the crusaders even seemed to fall to the ground in slow motion. But, as she took note of the next to just barely kept at bay by Tim and Stephanie, her attention shifted. As Stephanie's challenger thrust his spear forward, Angel came between the two and snapped the weapon at in two with a chop. Before the crusader could respond, she whipped the handle of the spear from his hands and thrust it, again and again, into the face of his helmet. Within the armor the strikes bounced his head forward and back until the head trauma knocked him off his feet. Before the one matched against Tim could even take in the sight, Angel dropped down, knocked his feet out from under him, stood up straight again and punished him with an elbow drop.

As Sadie's mouth started to go dry, she wondered aloud, "Could she always do all that?"

Constantine leaned forward toward the minivan's sliding door. "That costume makes the wearer stronger. But to move like that, she'd have to be bloody strong to begin with." The blood that Constantine had rubbed into a sigil on the floor began to glow as he opened the door. In his focus, Constantine had failed to take into account the crusader who had fought and just tossed aside the Question. Once his face had slipped back into the winter night, one of the wrist-mounted guns was aimed at him, less than a foot from his forehead.

"Well… bugger me."

In the fraction of a second between the words and the pull of the trigger, Angel put a hand out in front of the gun. The bullet flew through the Suit of Sorrows and made into Angel's palm, but failed to pass through to the other side.

The crusader slowly turned toward the young woman in white in awe as she reached toward the back of one of her shoulders. Even she didn't know why or what instinct she was following. Out from the armor she pulled the handle of a sword and a blade of flame erupted from it.

"Please, no—"

Angel thrust the blazing Sword of Sin into the crusader's chest. The weapon passed through his chest easier than a knife through butter, as if it was made of thin air. For a moment, he sat in stunned silence.

Then the same man who raised a gun to Constantine's head screamed in horror. The crusader fell backwards and clutched his body to himself as he screeched over and over again. It was only through these screams of terror Cassandra returned to lucidity from the battle trance she was in. Almost immidietly the Suit of Sorrows dissipated and took the bullet from her hand as it went.

Angel's confident, unbreakable stance shattered as Cassandra looked down on the man shouting in agony. "Oh God." She couldn't contain a shake that ran through her. "What did I do? What have I done?"

As she began to form signs of the cross, Constantine shouted, "Oi, all of you, get back in here!"

Tim and Stephanie, still a little dazed themselves from Cassandra's display, slipped past her into the minivan. As Cassandra observed the damage she had done, possibly five incapacitated bodies at that point, she took note of the Question as she struggled back to her feet. Cassandra crossed to her with haste and helped her stand.

"Sorry," Cassandra said. "Would have helped you too, wasn't all in control."

"Don't worry about it." The words were confident, but the breaths behind them were labored. As Cassandra helped her into the car, she said, "You all still believe that Lane man can be trusted? He must have set us up."

"Close the door before you go about airing subterfuge talk," Constantine said. "Even he didn't know we were making a move just yet, and I've got a better answer for you anyhow."

He slapped his hand down in the center of the sigil and the whole car went dark, as if he had pulled blinds down over the car windows to block out the street lights. After a few seconds and another motion with his hands, a glow radiated off of Cassandra's body, much like the one from the new age shop. But shortly after that, three duller but still white glows began to eminate off of Constantine, the Question, and Sadie.

The Question asked, "What does it mean?"

"It means Arlington's transfer of power was a real slap dash," Constantine said. "Cassandra was the only one supposed to get the costume, but the transfer was magical in nature. The power, or at least a stain of the power, got on all the rest of us. If they can track that suit with magic, they can probably track all of us too."

Sadie's heartrate started to pick up again. "Well can you get it off of us? You called it a stain, can wash it out?"

"Not at the moment, I doubt at all. Our little priest friend might be the only chance I'll have at that." With another slap at the ground, the four lights dimmed significantly, the six were again in near-total darkness. "I can mask it, but the effect won't last forever and I'll need to keep redoing the spells every now and again." As a little of the light began to shimmer again, he looked toward Sadie. "You're marked, same as the rest of us. It's probably not safe to drop you off for the night."

Sadie swallowed her concern and nodded. It was Stephanie who asked, "So what now then?"

"I've got another spell ready that'll maybe get the car running again for a few more miles," Constantine said. "Gonna be bumpy as hell, but I can get us to a hotel or something. With respect, I'm not so sure I trust safehouses much right now."

Tim gave him a reluctant nod and peered out the window. The five were still on the ground and those who didn't scream didn't seem to be in any hurry to move. "We've got our costumes in the trunk, let us suit up and we'll get some cuffs on these guys."

"And call for backup," Stephanie said. "I don't trust these guys to be held easily."

Tim sighed. "The little punk isn't going to let me hear the end of this, you know it."

The two bantered as they stepped out of the car and made for the trunk. With only the Gotham's four witnesses still within, the Question continued to voice her dissatisfaction. "I think this is a sign of something bigger."

"No, really?" Constantine made a move toward the driver's seat as he spoke. "I tend to think of religious conspiracies and small, homely affairs."

"All of it. The demon you fought, those men out there, and the man from back at the safe house. It's all too convenient."

"He mighta' been following the same trail they were." Constantine began to prod at the car's dashboard and draw shapes with his finger. As he did so, the grounded corner of the car slowly began to elevate again. "What was he s'posed to get out of telling us something was going on? I don't like priestly sods either, but he could have just went for me then and there."

"While the Batman was in the room?"

As Constantine and the Question continued to bicker, Cassandra looked back out at the five enemies she had defeated without even realizing it. The prospect of how powerful she had become and how much she could do with little conscious thought made her tremble to the core.

"Hey." Sadie drew her attention with the word. When Cassandra turned, she said, "You were awesome out there. That was the most badass thing I've ever seen."

For a second, Cassandra considered rebuking her. When the second passed and she knew Sadie meant no harm, she took her hand and said, "Thank you."

"Oh God, are you bleeding?"

Cassandra frowned and looked down at her hand. Sure enough, a small, red hole was still there in the center where she'd taken a bullet.

"I, uh, I don't have anything for that." Sadie looked toward the front of the car. "Yo, magic man! We gotta stop for some bandages, Cassie's bleeding!"

An irate Question called back, "And I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking."

Cassandra clutched the wound. "It's fine, it happens."

"Yeah, well, you should still let me clean it up," Sadie said. "Unless your years on the job have given you immunity to tetanus, and I won't believe you if you tell me that anyway."

The thought of telling Sadie not to worry so much crossed Cassandra's mind. But on that turbulent night, she couldn't fight the thought that she might actually like the sentiment. "Okay."

As the minivan found its full height again thanks to a levitation charm from Constantine, a tap came at Cassandra's window. Stephanie, dressed in full Batgirl regalia, met eyes with her.

"You guys stay safe for the night. Cassie, you know where to get ahold of me, tell me what's going on, if you need backup, whatever, okay?"

Cassandra nodded. Sadie leaned over and, with none of the joviality from earlier in the evening, said, "Thank you guys, for everything."

As if Stephanie had recovered some of what was lost, she said, "Get your lawyer cousins to buy me some cool wedding gifts and we'll call it even, okay?"

The two laughed as Constantine turned the car back on and began to drive through the streets on the three legged car. Despite the little bursts of relief and happiness Sadie and Stephanie had provided, Cassandra remained troubled.

If she didn't get the better of the suit quickly, the suit would get the better of her. She needed to either get it off or get it under control.

Chapter Five

The fifth witness of Arlington's death passed through the Chicago international airport with only the slightest of detection. He carried no bags, when asked for his driver's license and later ticket, raised an empty hand. Both the security officer and the woman at the ticket counter saw whatever they needed to see to allow him to pass. With his hands tucked into his jacket he made his way to the back of the plane. The man seated next to him was already asleep and never even knew someone else had sat next to him. It was still early in the morning, he would make good time, but would have to figure transportation from Metropolis to Gotham.

The more obvious method available to him never left the corner of his mind, no matter how he tried to ignore it. He didn't even know what exactly he was journeying for, and the four best leads he had seemed to have disappeared. He would have to find them the old fashioned way.

-000-

It was only thanks to exhaustion the ragtag team were as rested as they were the next morning. Constantine could only keep the car balanced enough to get them to a nearby two star hotel. The room had a slightly off-putting smell and the bed Cassandra and Sadie slept in creaked, but it was something after the long night. Perhaps to be fair, perhaps to show her appreciation for the car stunt, the Question slept on the room's small couch and left Constantine the other full sized bed. The four awoke one by one around ten AM. The Question got the attention of the rest when she returned with two cups of coffee from the lobby.

Constantine chuckled to himself. "Did you really wear that damned mask down there?"

The Question set the second cup down on the table that sat next to Constantine's bed. "No one looks at faces half as much as you'd think they do. I didn't draw any attention."

"Okay, yeah, but in broad daylight?" Sadie sat up and leaned against her headboard. "You've obviously got the most distinct feature—or, you know, lack of features, of anyone here. It's not like John's in costume right now."

Constantine scoffed. "Only costume I own is a silk shirt for when they invite me to Halloween parties. Everybody says I look like Sting."

Sadie asked, "… The wrestler?"

"I hate working with young people." Constantine shook his head as he stood and sipped the coffee the Question had set out for him. He pointed a finger in her direction. "You got it, didn't you?"

Cassandra yawned, stretched and uttered, "Focus" as she too sat up. She looked toward the Question and wondered what she should say before she started with, "Renee—"

The Question snapped, "Don't say my last name. I'm the only one here who's still got their identity secret, and I intend to keep it that way." The room was silenced for a few seconds before she said, "So, Batman knows then, does he?"

"I haven't really met the guy, apparently," Sadie said. "But he is the Batman you know. This is basically his city."

Cassandra tried to speak up again. "Renee, it's… noticeable."

"You must not have been paying attention last night," she said. "Whatever's obvious about this mask is worse underneath it."

"But that's what those guys are going to be looking for," Sadie said.

A different question crossed Cassandra's mind. "What do you do when you usually go out? During the day?"

"I don't get out much these days."

A feeling of concern ran through Cassandra, but she chose not to speak on it just yet.

"Long as those wankers don't catch up with us, I don't care what you're wearing." Constantine retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and stepped outside of the dank hotel room. Less than half an hour later, the other three joined him in the chilly December morning and, with only a few words, settled on their course of action.

The hotel was about a three mile walk from the Church of the Holy Redeemer. Constantine led their little pack to better obscure the Question from any other passers-by. The Question whispered directions to him when it was necessary. A little further behind, Cassandra held Sadie's hand and had to push her to a brisk walk for the two of them to keep up as they moved back into the city proper and the streets began to crowd.

Sadie asked, "How long have you been doing this?"

Cassandra groaned to herself. "Can't talk about it openly."

"I'm trying to be vague for you," Sadie said. "That question could mean anything."

"… Fourteen. Got my first title at fourteen."

"That's wild." The two came to a stop as they reached a crosswalk and a barrage of cars sped by. "So you, Tim, Steph, your dad—"

Cassandra tried to form as deep of a frown as possible. "Can't say that."

"Holy crap, what about Damian? He's the same age you were."

As the crosswalk was left safe and they passed, Cassandra squeezed Sadie's hand. "Stop."

"And Rafal? Him too?"

"No!" The words came out of Cassandra's mouth faster than she'd meant them to. "Not Rafal."

After a block of relative quiet, Sadie said, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hit any nerves. I'm just kinda going crazy connecting the dots right now."

Cassandra sighed. "I wish you would stop… but I understand." And in spite of the bits of frustration it was causing, she couldn't deny how much she was enjoying Sadie's enthusiasm. Maybe Stephanie hadn't been so far off when she suggested recruiting her, years before.

Ahead of them, Constantine asked the Question, "So, you ever been so sickly sweet with a girl?"

In a hushed tone, the Question said, "It's been a long time. And they never ended well."

"Oh, so did the embodiment of dreams whisk you away and you found her hopped up on magic sand?"

If Constantine had only been trying to get a reaction, that phrase certainly succeeded. The best response the Question, after a brief pause, only managed a stunned, "What?"

"I grieve in my own way," Constantine said. "Need to air out those bad memories now and again. Sorry you had to hear that, it was a lot uglier standing over that nightmare."

"… You don't have a lot of friends on this side of the Atlantic, do you?"

"Old girlfriend of mine does traveling magic shows. If we get out of all this alive, I might have to see if she's got any performances on this coast."

Eventually, the three arrived at the doorstep of the old church. From the lack of tape around the perimeter, it seemed the police had their hands too full with the shop explosion the previous night to investigate the perps the Question had caught. It was she who first slipped open the front door and motion the others in. The Church of the Holy Redeemer was a relatively small church, particularly compared with the many temples and cathedrals that sat all across Gotham. The walkway between the pews was barely wide enough to accommodate two of the party of four. Still, tiny candles blazed before a statue of Mary in one corner and light glimmered in through the stained glass windows on the walls. For better or worse among the party, it did feel like a holy place. As they passed into the nave, Cassandra located a small pool of holy water and consecrated herself. As if out of long-forgotten habit, the Question began to imitate the motion but stopped halfway through.

"There's a trapdoor under the altar." The Question led them to the front of the church and pointed. "I tried to get to the priest last night, but he had locked it after he slipped in."

Constantine knelt at the small, metal door and tried to tug it open, but it wouldn't budge. "All right, Cass, rip this thing off like you lifted that counter the other night."

The thought of the power that had overwhelmed Cassandra the previous night made her shudder. "Can't you unlock it? With magic?"

"Resources are precious at the moment," Constantine said. "And it'll just be quicker. I don't know what kind of time table we're on but quicker is better."

Cassandra stepped forward and had to swallow as she looked down toward the metallic door. When she didn't kneel down after a few seconds, Sadie stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," she said. "You need a minute."

Cassandra sighed. She didn't want to look afraid to her comrades, but she gave Sadie a reluctant nod.

"Give us five, you guys," Sadie said. "It's gonna make things easier."

The Question nodded without a word, Constantine rolled his eyes and shooed them with a wave of his hand. Sadie led Cassandra into the tight space between the rows of pews and said, "You're scared of that costume, aren't you?"

"Lost control of it last night," Cassandra said. "Just for a minute and did so much. I can't lose control, when I do—" she paused, bit her lip and just said, "I can't."

"Okay." Sadie set a hand on both of her shoulders. "I get that. I have no idea what I'd do if I had superpowers all of a sudden. But the thing is, you've kinda had superpowers this whole time, haven't you?"

Cassandra grappled with the thought for a moment before she slowly nodded. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was from Sadie's perspective.

"You've always been in control of those before. You still are now, or you'd probably have ripped my arm off when you were trying to rush me earlier."

In spite of the morbid thought, Cassandra couldn't keep a little smile off her face when she saw the one Sadie bore.

"It sounds like you've gotta tap into that thing again. But it's just a little trapdoor on the floor. You don't have to fight anybody."

Cassandra already knew everything Sadie said was true, but it was nice to hear someone else say it. As Sadie gently squeezed her shoulder, Cassandra nodded and turned back toward the altar. Without a word to Constantine or the Question, she knelt down, located the edge of the door and slid her fingers along them. The unseen suit's power didn't overwhelm her immediately that time, as if her conscious mind slowed it. As Cassandra tried to dig her fingers under the trapdoor, the might within the suit seeped into her arms. The moment she got just a sliver of one of her fingers between the frame, she began to pull. Seconds later she ripped the trapdoor off of the floor and revealed the narrow, dark passageway underneath.

"Gorgeous," Constantine said. "I should find out what's in that thing, might be a trick worth stealing."

Constantine considered rebuking him before a shout came from the hole in the floor.

"You stay back up there!" It sounded like it might be a deep voice made shrill by the yell. "The father's already gone! I don't know where he's going, but you won't catch him! He's safe now!"

"Ah bugger!" Constantine stomped his foot as he glared into the darkness. "We're not trying to kill him, damn it. I've got a message from Arlington. You're telling me the old bastard's run off?"

The response gave the man in the underground pause before he called up, "Who sent you?"

"Abe Arlington sent us, who the hell are you?"

The Question looked up toward him. "Do you have to be antagonistic toward everyone we encounter?"

"It gets results."

Cassandra and Sadie both squinted into the darkness beneath them, but there was no visibility past a few feet.

"… Come down here then!" the voice said. "And please hurry, who knows when the enemy will strike again. Close the door on your way down!"

Constantine mumbled to himself that that wasn't going to happen as he descended the ladder downward. The Question followed after him, Cassandra and Sadie a few steps after her.

"So, uh, is this normal?" Sadie tried to glimpse anything visible in the space beneath them, but nothing was clear. "Do churches usually have creepy lower levels hidden from plain sight?"

"Some of Gotham's churches have catacombs beneath them," the Question said. "Old members of the clergy are buried there. But I don't think that's what this is for."

After nearly ten minutes of descending the ladder, the narrow passageway began to expand. With the widened path came increased visibility of the floor just beneath them. A few small torches lined a hallway at the bottom of the pit. The hallway led in the same direction as the opening of the church, which meant, if it went on far enough, it might extend under the Gotham beaches. As Constantine reached the bottom, he was the first to encounter the rotund young man with unruly brown hair and a white robe.

"Welcome, then," the young man said. "I am Brother Joseph. You said you were sent by Abraham Arlington?"

"I did." Constantine spoke as the other three reached the bottom of the ladder. "I've got a message to deliver on his behalf."

Brother Joseph blinked twice in confusion. "He did not accompany you?"

"He was killed last night," Constantine said. Brother Joseph was taken aback for a moment and did a swift sign of the cross. Constantine continued, "I need to speak to Father Garrett. But you said he isn't here?"

"He stayed as long as he could," Brother Joseph said. "I don't know much, but he told me he had to stay here in the hopes of hearing his old ally out. I don't know why he didn't tell us more over the phone—"

"Because it'd be too damn easy," Constantine said. "I don't need history. If he's not here, where is he?"

Brother Joseph was momentarily put off by Constantine's assertiveness, but spoke after a brief hesitation. "We have a system here. He is far away now, but I can help you communicate with him. You said you were bearing a message?"

"Blood oath."

"Which of you then?"

"All of us."

The Question and Cassandra managed to stifle their flinches. Sadie didn't have the experience to do so but at least managed to stop herself from asking, "What?"

Brother Joseph nodded. "Very well. Come this way, Mister…?"

"Constantine," he said. "You don't need the other's names right now. Just lead the way."

The chubby man of the cloth nodded slowly and proceeded down the passageway. The underground of the church was far more cave than basement, though it was clear some human construction had been necessary to make smaller paths that splintered off to the left and right. As they walked, Sadie moved in close to Cassandra and whispered. "Why do you think he said we all had the message?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Maybe to keep us together."

Further in the pack, Brother Joseph asked, "I don't know how familiar you are with our friend Arlington, Mr. Constantine… but his uniform? Did it happen to… do anything when he passed?"

"No," Constantine said. "Least nothing I saw."

Sadie whispered, "This is going to be a lot of lies to keep up with."

"Don't say anything if you aren't sure," Cassandra said.

The Question turned enough to offer Sadie a small look of her blank face. "We know how to cover for these things. You just need to not interfere."

Sadie managed half a smile and said, "Thanks."

Eventually the cavernous corridor widened into a larger room illuminated with dozens of candles along the walls. Stones had been meticulously crafted into pews before a huge, rock-carved relief of Christ upon the cross. Brother Joseph performed another sign of the cross and veered to the right of the stonework toward a small staircase.

"The Church of the Holy Redeemer was built upon this spot because it is a focal point of tremendous spiritual energy," Brother Joseph said. "So much so that we have learned to harness it to communicate with one another across vast distances—"

"It's astral projection," Constantine said. "You're talking about astral projection."

Brother Joseph was put off for a moment before he tried to stand up for himself. "We are not practitioners of the magical arts here, Mr. Constantine. It is not sorcery, it is spirituality."

"Oh forgive me, I think you misunderstand," Constantine said. "I think this is one of those British vs. American misunderstandings. It's like that tool you use to dig a hole."

Again, it took Brother Joseph a moment to shake off his confusion. "What?"

"What do you call that? The thing you use to dig a hole?"

At the door of a chamber at the bottom of the staircase, Brother Joseph struggled to grasp what was asked of him. "A shovel?"

"Ah, yeah, that's it," Constantine said. "In my country, we call a spade a spade."

As if to further solidify her place as an outsider, Sadie cracked up loud enough to produce an echo through the cavern. Cassandra elbowed her to quiet her as the joke slowly dawned on Brother Joseph. "I'm sorry," Sadie said. "That was just really, really good. He walked right into it."

Brother Joseph sighed and shook his head. "If you're finished now, you can go inside and try to speak with Father Garrett. There is a chamber overhead I must arrange some relics within to ease the process." He looked slowly between the four before he spoke again. "Are you all carrying this message equally? Do you all need to be present? Or are individuals carrying little bits of it?"

"It doesn't matter," Constantine said. "We're all going in."

Another moment of hesitation passed through Brother Joseph. "It will just be a tight fit. That is all. Go ahead then, I will speak to you when I am overhead."

Brother Joseph stepped out of their path and the four maintained the order they had all day. First Constantine, then the Question, Cassandra and last, Sadie. The stone chamber Brother Joseph had ushered them into was actually rather spacious, or at least not as compact as he had implied. It was chilly within but not otherwise unpleasant. Constantine slowly walked about the room with an outstretched hand.

"Yes, plenty of magic's been done here, whatever he wants to call it."

The Question asked, "So, do you now care to tell us why you said we were all carrying the secret?"

"If he's going to be a problem, divide and conquer will probably be his first stategy," Constantine said. "And I've kept that from happening, thank you much."

"You really think a chubby friar's going to try turning on us?" After her brief examination of the room, Sadie stepped back up next to Cassandra. "Come on, he sounded terrified when we first got the door open."

As if to strengthen that claim, the voice of Brother Joseph came into the room from overhead. And again, it bore a twinge of fear. "Erm, hello down there? Can you hear me?"

Constantine called up, "Loud and clear! You got those bits and pieces in order?"

"… I'm sorry." Brother Joseph's voice became momentarily hoarse as he repeated, "I'm sorry."

Constantine frowned. "What?"

"I didn't want this. I'd never want this! But they were here at the church when I arrived!" He began to wheeze and sob. "They told me I had to… or they'd… they'd… I'm so sorry!"

As the rest of the party tried to comprehend Brother Joseph's words, Sadie made a break for the door and tried to pull it open. But as she struggled with the knob, she quickly realized that was all there was, as if the door itself had disappeared into the stone. There were no outline, no frame, no openings.

She shouted to the others, "The door vanished! What the hell is this?"

Constantine ran up and felt around where the frame had been. "No, no, no! He's sealed us in!"

Cassandra glared up at the ceiling and shouted, "You lied to us!"

"That chamber you're in is indeed utilized in speaking across vast distances," Brother Joseph said. "And, in work as secretive as ours, that means you need to be able to keep anyone from breaking in."

After her smaller vents of frustration throughout the morning, it was then the Question snapped. "Let us out of here, you little worm! One of your own is already dead, do you believe the same ones who killed him will show you mercy?"

Brother Joseph ignored the question. "And there was an additional failsafe prepared, just in case one of these rooms and its secrets ever were compromised… God, forgive me. And may he have mercy upon all of you. I hope it doesn't hurt long. I don't want it to hurt long."

In the corner of the room there came a high hiss sound, as if something was cutting through the many layers of rock and sentiment in the wall. After a few seconds, a small but visible spray of water began to jut from the tiny hole. But with each passing moment, the water eroded at the stones that served as walls and grew ever more powerful. First it was only a thin, small stream, but with only a little time it grew larger and stronger.

The explanation clicked with the Question before any of the rest. "Dios mio, we're beneath the ocean right now."

And before any of the rest could comprehend the implication, the hole caved ever-more upon itself as gallons of salty water began to flood in from the wet abyss directly outside of the chamber. And if they didn't find a way to stop it quickly, the room would be their watery grave.

Chapter Six

The trip had taken far too long, but at long last the fifth witness stepped off of a Gotham taxi cab. The cabbie didn't ask him any questions and accepted his payment without second thought. It was most of what the man had on him, he would probably need to do something about that soon.

He pulled his green suit jacket tight to his body. It was cold in the northeast, and cold was not a feeling he had felt in a long time. Anyone who understood him would find that a funny sentiment, but it was the truth.

There was still a ways to go to reach his destination, but he had to go off of feeling for the rest of his journey.

-000-

The ocean brine flowed downward and reached Sadie first. "Holy crap!" She yelped and retreated toward Cassandra, still near what had been the entrance. "That's freezing cold!"

The Question followed just behind her. "Could be colder, salt water can do that."

Cassandra looked toward the place where the door had been. Fueled by the Suit of Sorrows, she threw a punch at the stone that had taken its place. The hit made a slight indentation but after a few seconds' pause, she reeled back, clutched her hand, and grit her teeth. Even in the darkness, the pain was apparent.

Sadie turned to Cassandra's side as the water came up to the sole of every foot within. "That looked bad, are you okay?"

Cassandra glared at the wall as she relaxed her hand. "Suit isn't working. Not how it was before." She glared down at her palm. "Still heals, strikes not as powerful."

"Well, these are the bastards who created the damn thing!" Constantine had to shout over the rush of the water. "They might be suppressing it somehow! Try to keep calm, the lot of you! Water this cold might freeze before it can drown!"

Cassandra looked back toward Constantine and the Question, again at Sadie, and threw another punch at the stone wall. Despite her own strength and whatever the Suit of Sorrows still had in it, the strikes only made tiny indentations and there was a lot of wall still between them and safety. Despite the pain that coursed through her hand, Cassandra threw a second punch right after the first.

Sadie flinched. "Are you—are you just letting the suit heal you after every strike? Are you crazy?!"

Cassandra scowled. "Let me work."

The Question inspected her progress. "There's no way you're going to be able to get us an opening like that, the damage is too minimal and the work is too slow."

As if bitterly taking the words to heart, Cassandra beat harder and faster against the wall with negligible results.

"That's not what I meant." The Question turned toward Constantine, who was on one knee as he inspected the rising water. "Hey, magic man, you got any ideas here?"

"Trying to figure something out now." Constantine ran his hand along the salty water and touched it to his tongue. "Damn, hoped it was out of a reservoir or something, but I think that's straight ocean. If it was freshwater I might be able to seal the gap for a few minutes, buy us some time, but that's a lot harder with salt in the mix!"

With a look of stoic indignation, Cassandra continued to pound at the wall. Sadie tried to step in front of her but couldn't find a safe opportunity. "Cut it out!" The hole in the ceiling had grown since it was first opened and the water swiftly passed the five's ankles. "You're hurting yourself for no good reason."

Cassandra paused long enough to shout, "What else can I do?" In part out of the noise in the room, in part out of fear.

Constantine crossed to the twos' side, cringed as he bent down in the cold water and pressed a hand against the wall.

An exacerbated Cassandra asked, "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can redirect the pressure into the wall, see if I can't get a bigger punch in."

Sadie and the Question both stared at Constantine as he pushed against the wall and the water poured into the chamber, soon up to their knees. As shivers took over Cassandra, she began to beat at the same spot again.

After his brief pause, Constantine shouted, "Bollocks!" before he stood up straight and stomped in the water. He was about to shout something more when he stopped and looked toward Cassandra. "Oi, Cass, stop with the punches, I just remembered something."

Cassandra shook off her hand, which she may well have broken multiple times at that point, by all she knew. Her look toward Constantine served as her acknowledgement.

"Arlington managed to cut through a magic barrier with one of those swords. If you can cut me an outline, I might be able to force it out. See if that gets you anywhere."

Another brief hesitation came over Cassandra. Sadie was about to offer her some encouragement before she pushed past her worries and pulled the sword handle from her right side. The orange flames of the Sword of Sin sprang to life, Cassandra pulled it back to stab at the wall.

"Just a tic," Constantine said. "Arlington used the other one."

Cassandra frowned. "Other one?" She only subconsciously remembered the first of the two swords from the previous night. She reached up for the same spot on her left shoulder and found another sword handle. As she lowered it, the Sword of Salvation's ethereal glow lit up the corner of the chamber. Something about the cool light that came from the blade seemed more trustworthy to Cassandra, so she slipped the Sword of Sin away and gripped the Sword of Salvation with both hands. After a nod of approval from Constantine, she thrust the blade into the wall of stone.

The rocks hissed and sizzled as the Sword of Salvation passed seamlessly through them. Sadie went wide eyed and there even looked to be a change in the Question's posture to indicate excitement.

"You couldn't have remembered that any quicker?" Despite the sarcastic words, Sadie was laughing.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Constantine said. "Even if we can cut through, we don't know how thick these rocks are."

With the Sword of Salvation sunk to its handle into the rock, Cassandra slid it horizontally with little opposition. As she twisted it to pull it downward, she glared at the icy water, soon to rise above her knees. "Will it go out in the water?"

"It only looks like fire," Constantine said. "Least I hope that's the case."

The "flame" of the blade did crackle a bit when it came in contact with the seawater, but Cassandra was able to cut through the stone without interruption. Halfway finished, she again twisted the blade and cut another horizontal line into the wall. Another turn and a last vertical slash and they would all be free.

"All right, back it up, as soon as she's finished I'm bringing that rock down," Constantine said. The Question led Sadie backwards so they could work.

Cassandra turned and nodded her thanks as she stepped out of the rock slab's path and made the last cut. Constantine stepped forward and pressed a shivering hand to the block. For a moment, a glow resonated off the grit and Constantine jumped out of the way just in time for it to fall forward. The slab made a thunderous splash as it fell and sank into the water. The four looked up at the indentation with a hope that quickly turned to dismay. Even with entire feet of rock liberated from the wall, there was no sign of an entryway on the other side. No one knew how much further they would have to cut. As Cassandra thrust the sword at the wall again, everyone knew their already limited time was running short.

After a long hesitation, Brother Joseph crossed himself a final time and stepped out into the underground chapel. He needed to reach a confessionary soon and he knew his penance would be great. But he would be forgiven, because he was already so full of regret. But, with his head bowed and prayers said quietly, he was not regretful enough to undo his action.

Brother Joseph did not initially look up when another body stepped into his path. After all, much the same thing had happened mere hours before.

"I did what you told me!" He spoke with tears in his eyes. "Now let me go."

The figure in his way set a hand on Brother Joseph's chin and raised his head. When the young monk saw the man who had entered the underground, he flinched.

"Wh- What? Who are you?"

"Be not afraid," the man in green said. "Just tell me where they are."

"Th- They?"

"You know who I am referring to. I felt them here, and they are all tied into what is to come. Where are they?"

"I… I can't stop what's already begun." Brother Joseph sidestepped the man in green. "Even if I could, the Order would kill me next." He walked past him, head again bowed. "Please, just leave it all be. You're too late."

The man in green did not respond, but as Brother Joseph kept walking, someone else stepped into his path. The monk flinched again and looked up. His mouth slipped open wide and his eyes dilated with horror. The new figure extended a green-gloved hand and clenched it tight around his throat.

"Let's try this again."

Even on the opposite side of entire feet of rock, Brother Joseph's scream was audible. Even the four desperate for salvation from the freezing water paused as the sound reverberated through the underground. A few seconds later, the sound of roaring water ceased. Though the drowning attempt had made it up to Cassandra and Sadie's stomachs, the water suddenly ceased to pour in. A minute thereafter, a voice called into the chamber.

"You in there!" The acoustics obscured whatever his voice truly sounded like. "It seems like you made it most of the way through the wall already. Whatever you're doing, just keep at it a little longer. I've got the hole in the ceiling patched."

"What?" Constantine double took. "You doing that with magic? Just how powerful are you?"

"I'll explain once I've gotten you all free, I'm a friend, I promise. But one thing at a time, finish clearing your way."

Cassandra and Sadie exchanged hesitant looks of their own, but it was the Question who shouted next. "That's exactly what everyone else has told us thus far! I wouldn't be surprised if the Batman and those kids last night were trying to screw us over too!"

With the flash of a scowl, Cassandra briefly turned toward the Question before she began to slice into the wall again. Constantine kept up his half of the workload and split the squares from the barrier. It took another three rotations to finally clear an opening. After over ten feet of stone blockades, the four, shivering and in pain, stepped to the bottom of the staircase into the passageway. The figure who had called into them stood atop the steps and looked down on them, hands tucked into his suit jacket. For a moment, a satisfied little smile sat on his face. But when he got a better look at them all, the confident smirk was replaced with an anxious frown.

"John? What… of all people, what are you doing here?"

Constantine stepped to the front of the party and squinted his eyes. After squinting his eyes for a moment, he shared in the fifth witness's unease.

"Jim Corrigan… thought you were dead again."

Chapter Seven

Of the gathered company, Constantine was the only one who had ever met the redheaded man in green before. Sadie had never so much of heard of him, and Cassandra strained to recall if his name had ever been mentioned to her before. The Question, however, remained as tense as she had back in the flooding chamber.

She asked, "Jim Corrigan? Dead again?" As Constantine nodded, she clenched her fists. "You don't look like him, but a Jim Corrigan killed my partner back when I was on the force."

"It's a terribly common name wherever Irish populations are concentrated." A sadness crossed Corrigan's eyes. "My condolences for your partner, however… Crispus Allen, was he?"

The Question shifted into a fighting stance. "How would you know that?"

"All right easy, easy." Constantine stepped into the Question's path. "Jim's been dead for an age, hence my confusion. If your partner died after the turn of the millennium, Jim was in a hole in Chicago at the time."

After a few seconds more the Question relaxed only ever so slightly. "Why did you know his name?"

"All that in time." Corrigan looked toward Cassandra and Sadie and was about to speak, but was cut off by another shout from the Question.

"I'm getting real sick of everyone stonewalling us on what the hell is going on! Who are you supposed to be, what's your tie in with this cult, what are they trying to accomplish, and who is on what side here?"

A short pause passed between the five, as if no one was quite sure how to follow the demand. A small smile slowly returned to Corrigan's face as he shook his head. "I believe I know your name, for the same reason I knew your partner's. May I—"

"No."

Sadie leaned in toward Cassandra and whispered, "Remind me not to get on her bad side."

"All right… ma'am. I promise you, regardless of what specifics I don't know yet, I assure you I am on your side." After a brief hesitation, he added, "I appreciate your support, John... please just don't try to be an instigator."

"Oi, so you're not just back, you've got that, y'know, parasite again?"

The words made Corrigan cringe. "That's what I'm talking about. Stop that, he hates you enough already."

Sadie asked, "Question, would you please ask them to quit talking like the rest of us aren't here?"

Cassandra almost elbowed Sadie to quiet her, but she too wanted the same thing.

"As it stands, I think there's somewhere else we should direct our questions first." Corrigan motioned to them and stepped out of view, into the chapel.

The rest of the party, still rubbing their hands together for warmth, followed behind him. The Suit of Sorrows faded, piece by piece, back into Cassandra's clothing. Brother Joseph laid unconscious in the center of the underground chapel. Corrigan knelt before him, gripped his shirt, and raised his head off the floor. With a small shake and the command, "Wake up," Corrigan returned the holy man to lucidity.

Brother Joseph uttered a few syllables of nonsense before he looked up and came eye to eye with Corrigan. As he did, his pupils dilated and he again began to shriek and scream as he had before.

"I don't want to judge you again," Corrigan said. "Please, stop yelling, all you have to do is cooperate."

"They'll kill me if I do! I can't help you, they'll kill me—"

Corrigan pulled him in closer and deepened his glare. "I think you know who I serve. And he's the one who will decide what happens to you afterwards."

Despite not knowing how literally to take his words, they made a small shudder run through Cassandra's body. Both Sadie and the Question didn't immediately feel anything with regards to the threat. And Constantine almost laughed.

Brother Joseph slowly pushed off the floor and stuttered a few false starts before he managed to say, "What do you want?"

"I want to know who summoned Azmodus back from the depths and why."

The monk's jaw dropped, one of his eyes twitched, and his voice almost cracked when he shouted, "What does any of that even mean?!"

Corrigan scowled and looked back toward those he had saved. "Seems he may not actually be all that helpful to me. But if any of you had questions, you may as well ask them now."

Constantine stepped ahead of the rest of the group. "You two can get us back to the surface." He looked toward the frightened little man. "Does the old priest have an office or anything up there? Somewhere we could search for more information?"

"Y-y- Yes?" After realizing he had offered it as a question, Brother Joseph quickly said, "Yes," again.

"Then you're gonna let us in there so we can tear it apart. And tell us whatever else you can answer at this point."

Brother Joseph turned and slowly walked to the entrance of the underground chapel. As he did, he constantly made a sign of the cross and clasped his hands together in prayer. Corrigan and Constantine followed just behind him, the Question, Sadie and Cassandra came soon after.

The Question quietly remarked, "He can't possibly be getting any actual prayers in between those motions. It's like he's just making busy work for his hands."

Though she wasn't planning to say anything, that gave Cassandra mental pause. "Was thinking the same thing… you're Catholic?"

"Was," the Question said. "I haven't been practicing in a long time now."

Cassandra sighed. That always seemed to be the story. She tended to work with a lot of lapsed Catholics and only rarely seemed to encounter anyone who was still a believer.

"Uh, so I didn't really get it at the time," Sadie said. "But I've kinda had the chance the think about that, 'ha' you gave me in the car the last night. About the 'first lesbian superhero' thing. I didn't really get it at the time, but I guess there's only one reason you'd have said it, right?"

First the three in front, then the three in the rear passed back into the dark tunnels that ran under the street on the shoreline. With a frustrated reluctance, the Question asked, "What of it?"

"I've never really dated any superheroes before." She chuckled to herself. "A couple of girls might turn out to be villains, I dunno."

"I'm not a superhero."

"All right, all right, vigilante, you like that better?" An edge came over Sadie's voice. "You're kind of a pain to talk to, you know that? Nobody can read your facial expressions, we're not allowed to call you by an actual name… I keep thinking you're really cool and it's like you keep trying to prove me wrong."

"Be nice," Cassandra said. "The job is hard."

Sadie was about to say something more, but paused when the Question sighed and asked, "What did you want?"

"Is this, uh, normal? For somebody like me? Do all girlfriends end up accompanying life-threatening escapades if they stick around long enough?"

The Question shrugged. "I haven't dated much since I started wearing the mask—who am I kidding? I'm not much of a committer when it comes to people. I'm not the best person to ask that question to."

Cassandra spoke up. "Think I'm almost done."

Sadie looked in her direction. "Almost done with what?"

"Dressing up, fighting, Gotham is safer now. Batman has lots of recruits. Maybe he doesn't need me anymore."

"Are you serious?" That momentarily took Sadie aback. "I mean, you're clearly really great at it."

Cassandra bit her lip and shrugged. "Not as much needs done. Would like to do other things with the time." Even she knew it didn't sound very convincing, but she didn't feel like getting into the other details at that moment. Whatever good veneer Sadie was putting up, Cassandra knew she must be terrified by what they had already been through. And considering just how approving and impressed Sadie had been since learning the truth, she might not like the idea she was part of the reason Cassandra sought to hang up her suit.

During the walk to the ladder, Constantine and Corrigan's talk was strictly focused on one another.

Corrigan asked, "A demon called Azmodus, did you encounter him?"

"Yeah. Hopped across the pond with a client who paid me to play mystical bodyguard. Just after we landed, the bastard attacked us. My client got himself killed in the crossfire, now I'm stuck trying to deliver his message. Looked like he took the demon out with him, but I know they don't tend to stay dead for long."

"Not without a proper banishment from this plane, anyway," Corrigan said.

"Is that all you're here about then?" Constantine chuckled. "Just trying to settle a score? There really wasn't enough beyond those pearly gates to keep you occupied?"

"It wasn't that. Earth's been without my other half for a while now… he was growing impatient with being sidelined already, and the knowledge Azmodus had been summoned only infuriated him more. Others offered to guide him instead, but I knew it had to be me."

"Guess you aren't an avenging angel for nothing." Constantine turned toward Brother Joseph at the front of the pack. "You're damn right to have been wetting your shorts, you know who this guy is? He's the wrath of God incarnate. That's not even a fancy title, he's sharing his body with the sick thing that slaughtered the firstborns of Egypt—"

"John!" Corrigan's scowl was audible. "Enough. You don't need to scare the man and you really should stop trying to aggravate him." He then spoke through clenched teeth. "I told you, he loathes you enough as it is."

As their argument echoed down the ladder, Sadie asked Cassandra, in a hushed tone, "I know John basically just said literally, but… not literally literally, do you think?"

Cassandra wanted to offer an agreement, but she was already entrenched in a case of the metaphysical. She wasn't sure this would be so different.

When the six surfaced within the church again, Brother Joseph silently and dutifully led them to a small office obscured by the back wall of stained glass. The only furniture within was a chair, a small desk covered with disorganized papers, and nearly two dozen half-opened and obviously half-ransacked filing cabinets. Though the carpet in the room was red, there were enough forms and yellowing parchments strewn about to almost completely alter the color.

"The others made it here earlier this morning," Brother Joseph said. "Whatever you want, you can have. But Father Day's system of organization was always… eclectic to me. I don't know if anything you want is here, but you may search."

Constantine stepped forward and glared at him. "All right, choir boy, why don't you tell us what it is we should be searching for in the first place?"

Brother Joseph shuddered. "Why would I know? I'm just a servant to Father Day, he doesn't leave much information with me, I don't even know where he went—"

Corrigan stepped into his line of sight. "Why don't we start with who could have summoned that demon?"

The Question followed with, "And who would have sent anyone to attack him."

Constantine concluded, "And that crossfire that Lane bloke was on about last night."

Though he had opened his mouth to reply earlier, Brother Joseph frowned and paused for a moment. "Lane? Michael Lane? He's in this city now?"

Responding to their question with one as seemingly insignificant quieted them all for a moment. When Sadie figured no one else was in a hurry to say it, she said, "Yeah. I mean, probably, we just saw him last night."

Brother Joseph exhaled a deep sigh and crossed himself yet again. "We hadn't heard from him in a while now. I'm glad to know he's safe… though I do wonder why he didn't come here first—"

"Oi!" Constantine snapped his fingers and grabbed Brother Joseph's attention again. "Focus, damn it. What would he have had to be afraid of? What's this schism going on? I've had it with half answers, let's hear something more straightforward."

Brother Joseph hesitated again as he looked over the five individuals. One of the first four had been strong enough to have bashed in rocks down in the lower chambers. The blonde haired man claimed to practice magic. And even the one with the boyish haircut could probably catch him if he tried to run. But beyond any of them, there was still the redhead in green whose very presence felt like it could give him waking nightmares. Whatever consequence may follow, they were every bit as frightening as those who had come for him this morning. With a hard swallow and thoughts of how far he may soon have to retreat, he asked, "May I sit down?"

Cassandra crossed the room, pulled the chair out from the desk and motioned him to take it. Brother Joseph sat, pushed the stringy hair out from in front of his eyes, rubbed his forehead and began his tale.

"If you know anything at all about the Order of Saint Dumas, it's probably that we originated with the Knights Templar. We did not splinter off until the end of the Crusades, as did every other faction that rose when the Holy Wars ended. And, intrinsically tied to the Order of Saint Dumas is the Suit of Sorrows, the title Azrael, and its original wearer, Geoffrey de Cantonna."

Sadie spoke up when he paused for a breath. "Um, Mr. Constantine, you want me to start looking through these files or anything while he explains? I'm just trying to make myself useful."

Constantine contemplated that for a moment and nodded. "Go ahead, see what you can dig out on Dumas or Cantonna if you can make sense of the ordering. Just keep listening, that plan might change."

Sadie stepped up to a pile of the documents on the floor, knelt down, and began to sift through them. Cassandra, in a similar state of empty handedness, mimicked her position.

"So uh, can you actually read okay? Was that part of the smokescreen too?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Never faked it, still have trouble. But will try to help."

"So you really are from China then?"

Again, Cassandra shook her head. "America. Didn't learn until very late. Long story."

Sadie nodded and handed some of the paperwork over to Cassandra. "Okay, no worries."

With the youngest two in their places, Brother Joseph resumed. "Sir Cantonna wore the Suit of Sorrows into battle in the Crusades." He did not see the way the words still made Cassandra shudder. "The title of Azrael was his own idea, mocking the Muslims in the Holy Land by taking the name of their angel of death. Imbued with its power he brought the Knights Templar victory upon victory until its incredible power began to weigh on his sanity."

The Question stole a glance toward Sadie and Cassandra, and noted how the first squeezed the latter's hand after she had again frozen for a moment. She did not know how the two would be handling things separately, but she was grateful she didn't need to worry about it.

"By the end of his long career, Cantonna could no longer distinguish the warrior sheiks from their wives and children begging for mercy. His work was ultimately… regrettable, to say the least."

"You got a point you're working toward in this history lesson of yours?" Constantine said. "Some dramatic backstory you're going to spend all day setting up? Get on with it."

Again, it was clear from the look in Brother Joseph's eyes he was perturbed by Constantine's behavior. But after a brief hesitation, he went on. "For years thereafter, the Knights Templar feared the power of Cantonna's armor. It wasn't until Saint Dumas himself rose to influence within the Templars a century later that it was advocated the suit see use again. Fear of its power was enough to splinter Dumas' followers from the rest of the Templars."

As he came to this point, Sadie paused to get a better look at a black and white image. It looked to be a JPEG of a renaissance painting, the subject of whom looked to be an Arabic man with short dark hair and a long black beard. Directly underneath the painting was the name, "Dumas" written in a digital font. Just below that word was a handwritten note of something she didn't recognize. She tried to sound it out to herself. "Cader? Keeder? Kedar? I guess it's Kedar."

Brother Joseph paid her no mind. "After the disappearance of Saint Dumas—"

It was the Question's turn to interrupt. "Wait, disappearance? Your prophet disappeared?"

"It was a time long before forensic evidence and he had many enemies," Brother Joseph said. "It's not so unusual that he died without a corpse we could ever recover." When no one pressed the matter further, he resumed. "New battles came within his loyalists as to how the suit's powers were to be used. Out from that conflict came my branch, the Order of Purity, for our belief in a soul worthy of the armor's power, and the branch that uses the title The Sacred Order of Saint Dumas, who fear the Suit of Sorrows. Our two sides have long sought the eventual absorption of the other, but we have never been successful."

All the while Brother Joseph spoke, the Question carefully circled the room. She stepped over Cassandra and Sadie's work when necessary as she looked the filing cabinets up and down. The twenty four were placed almost evenly apart around the perimeter of the room, save for a pair directly behind Father Day's desk, which were pressed together. She stepped up to two of the other filing cabinets and tested the space between them. Exactly the width of her pointer and middle fingers together.

"You still haven't explained why they would have summoned a demon like Azmodus," Corrigan said.

Constantine followed, "All that and you've barely told us a thing."

The Question stepped up to the next pair of filing cabinets and tested the distance between them. Again, exactly the width of her two fingers.

"I don't know anything else!" Brother Joseph's voice almost cracked as he defended himself. "You wanted to know why there was a conflict within our ranks, why someone may have tried to kill Father Day, and why they killed Arlington. The Order of Saint Dumas is in a constant ideological standoff, that is why!"

The Question crossed to the back of the room, behind Father Day's desk, knelt down, and examined the floor under the filing cabinet.

"So because you couldn't figure out what to do with the suit, you've gone and dabbled in the occult?" The disgust in Constantine's voice was palpable. "That's really the best answer you've got? That doesn't even help with this damn message I'm supposed to deliver—" Constantine paused as Corrigan tapped him on the arm. "What?"

Corrigan pointed toward the Question. "What… what is she doing?"

As he did, the Question pulled and struggled with the two cabinets against the wall, but they did not move an inch. "Cassandra, could you lend me your strength for a moment?"

Cassandra squinted first at the Question, then at the cabinet. "What?"

"I know what even the fullest filing cabinets can feel like, and this is much too heavy. I think it's supposed to be a decoy, come over here and help me knock it down."

Brother Joseph frowned. "What? What do you think Father Day would need a fake filing cabinet for?"

After another brief hesitation, Cassandra stepped forward as the power of the armor seeped into her body again. If she had stopped to think about it, maybe it was the tiredness that quickened her pace, maybe it was irritation, or maybe she was growing accustomed to how useful it was. Whatever the answer, she didn't linger on it. Constantine and Corrigan knelt to collect all of the scattered paperwork in front of the cabinet and each gave her a nod. It took some struggle to get a hand wedged between the cabinets and the wall, but once she did, all it took was a toss.

An entirely full filing cabinet could weigh over four hundred pounds, and whatever filled the false one weighed far more than that. The crash when it hit the floor was momentarily deafening and even Brother Joseph's latest shriek was easily drowned out by the thunderous din. Once it had subsided, a tiny hole in the carpeting and the floor beneath was visible. The Question nodded her thanks to Cassandra, knelt and pulled a small, black box out from the hole. Within the box were a collection of handwritten notes on yellowing paper.

When the ringing in every ear subsided, the Question pondered aloud, "How would he have even gotten at these?"

Brother Joseph stammered, "Why would I know? I didn't even know that was there, I swear—"

"Belt up." Constantine stepped over to the Question's side to examine the papers. "What've got here then?" After a moment to analyze the title at the top of the forms, his eyes lit up. "Finally, a damn inch of headway!"

The Question turned to him. "What?"

Constantine pressed a finger to the single word title, "Nephilim."

"It was part of what Arlington's message. I still can't say anything specific about it, but it's a lead. I can actually work with this!"

Cassandra, Sadie and Corrigan all squeezed closer to Constantine to examine the papers, but Cassandra stopped after a moment. "Wait," she said. "Have a lead, maybe we should go."

Constantine asked, "Go? Go where?"

"Somewhere else," she said. "Got what we needed."

"But we might need more," the Question said.

Cassandra breathed a deep sigh. "Joseph has helped us… if they know that, they will hurt him. We should take it and leave, he can say we stole them."

"What, you're standing up for this guy?" Sadie double took. "He tried to kill us not even an hour ago!"

"I know." By the way frustration seeped in, it was clear Cassandra wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea herself. "But he doesn't deserve to hurt for that."

Constantine uttered a sarcastic laugh. "What's this supposed be? They never taught you 'an eye for an eye' back in Sunday school?"

Cassandra glared at him. "Fine, then I just don't want him to. Not always about deserve!"

For the first time since he had approached the band of misfits, Corrigan took particular notice of Cassandra. Her latest words prodded at something inside him, though whether it was something of his own or just something he carried he didn't know. He just knew she had suddenly and securely drawn his attention.

Corrigan was about to speak before Brother Joseph fell to his knees before Cassandra and wept. "What? After what I've done, you—you—God bless you, ma'am! God bless you!"

Constantine, the Question and Sadie each shared their own little sound of audible disgust and pity.

Corrigan then cleared his throat, Brother Joseph silenced himself as if in obedience. "I hope you can all forgive me for not asking for your names sooner," he said. "And the way I just turned up earlier, my mind has been elsewhere. You then, what is your name?"

The girl hesitated a moment, but decided if Constantine considered him a friend, she could give him something at least. "Cassandra."

"That's a nice name," Corrigan said. He slowly looked toward the others. "I'm not saying your attempted assailant shouldn't be punished, but I think Cassandra may be right, we shouldn't stick around here any longer than we need to. For our own sake, as well as his."

There came a few words of quiet reluctance from Constantine and the Question. Sadie spoke up to say, "I'm really kinda creeped out by this place anyhow right about now, so I'll take whatever excuse to do this somewhere else… and sooner or later I probably have to tell my cousin I'm not going to be home for a while…. Ugh, maybe staying here wouldn't have been so bad after all."

The Question straightened out the papers and the five slowly made their way out of the office, back toward the still-sunny winter day outside. A relieved Brother Joseph led them out of the office and watched them go, a relief washed over his whole body. In one part of his mind he began to construct an alibi if the members of the Sacred Order returned for him, in another he began planning how he would run away back to his mother in Iowa and pray she could give him sanctuary.

Just before he stepped out the door, Corrigan turned and gave him a last glare. And in his eyes, Brother Joseph felt a fury like he could only barely comprehend. No matter what the rest of the order may do to him, there could be no defying that man, whatever he truly was.

…

Author's closing: Wow, stopped right as I got into a detail that I ended up treating as a spoiler in the completed version. Well, try as I may, this one just didn't work out. There are still solid ideas here, I think, and I still stripped it for parts, but the foundation just didn't ultimately hold up the rest of the story.