But I don't insult whoever it was that designed Belle Reve's magic cells. That was good. Damn good. Heh.
I reach across to my jacket pocket without really thinking about it, feeling for a packet of Silk Cuts and finding only my own bare chest.
So... He somehow tore himself out of Belle Reve and 'respawned' here, naked as the day John was born?
Shit, yeah. That's the downside. Couldn't find a way past the spells and couldn't just ride out on synchronicity wave because it turns out that demons can't do that. All the memories he left me with, the one he used so much that he couldn't keep it from me, and it's sodding useless. Couldn't make a deal with the guards because they've go around in groups of four and they've got remote monitoring. Couldn't summon help, not with all the wards they had up. Couldn't force my way out.
But I'm a demon. All I had to do to get free was die. Create a feedback loop in the spells the Atlanteans put on the chains wasn't easy, but… I'm a demon. Drain too much magic away and I just fall apart, which would normally send me right down to the bottom of the heap down under. Not a good place to be.
Well, there's an awkward loophole, indeed. Though it looks like you'd have to be both a demon
and sneaky as hell to take advantage of it.
But a few drops of blood hidden away somewhere and that's an anchor. A demon glyph to draw power from some kind of old ritual murder no one remembers, and I'm back.
Naked, broke, hungry, thirsty, achy, and… Hell, I don't even know what the date is. Probably cold, but that sort of thing doesn't bother me anymore.
Crafty bastard, ain't he? Must be the Constantine in him.
I take a moment to let a good long frustrated breath out from between my teeth.
That's it for Satanus, then. No more Colin Thornton means no more DMN junkies, no more free cash and no more cover from other big dogs looking to put the bite on someone with John's face. Satanus might get out and he might claw his way back up the heirarchy in Hell, but that's not going to happen soon.
Gee, couldn't happen to a
nastier guy.
I turn in the direction I vaguely remember the closest village being and start walking. There's brambles and a bunch of other angry plants I've never learned the names of, but I've walked from one end of Hell to the other. My feet do what I tell them.
What am I even going to do now?
Pants would be a good start.
Otherwise you'll be up on indecent exposure charges right quick.
I was just doing favours for Satanus so he'd owe me. His chance of getting power in Hell is… Probably better than the other high up demons doing it. But one sniff of John…
And then there's the other bloke.
Hmm... Now who could he mean by
that, I wonder? John Quinn? Sounds like he's a little
worried, doesn't he?
I made a deal. I wanted to be me, he wanted to be him. He's keeping away from me and we've both got a reason to keep that up. Which is the best way to do it. But with John not around I'm comparing what I'm doing to what he's doing-.
Is this how John felt about it? I was getting a grip on… I thought I was getting a grip on him, with him not around and me…
And more evidence that John's done a
literal runner from this Earth, perhaps?
If John's not around, why not just take his life? Not like it's hard, and I'm already John-shaped. One part of his soul running down the John-shaped furrow in the world rather than the other.
So what the fuck am I doing here? If I'm going to be John, I need to go be miserable in London, feeling all of the pain and misery that makes up that place. Where I can get a crap beer with crap service and be pissed enough not to care.
And unlike John, it might well
empower him a little, being a demon and all...
Fuck me, I think I can hear a road. Don't know who's driving around at this time of night, but I can get people to do what I want as easy as he can.
No, hang on. Favours.
Ah, he's going to try and contact an old infernal friend, huh? Well, not a
friend - Demon, after all - but someone he can
exploit...
I stop, looking around for-. That'll do. A tree with bark flat enough to write on. No pen, nothing in me stomach, ground is… Cold and dry. Runes drawn in mud are shit, anyway.
My own blood it is, then.
A potent material, after all. The only
other option is a little hard to be
tidy with, after all.
I walk up to the tree, putting my right forefinger in my mouth and biting the soft skin. My teeth are sharper and my blood more magical than John's, so this shouldn't be quite as difficult as it was for him. There's a few demons who should answer me without too much grief, but right now I'm vulnerable, and the list of demons I can trust not to take the piss…
Is about one.
Yeah, I can't imagine he doesn't have enemies, both John's and those he's made for himself.
At least her being on Earth means I don't need to summon up the energy to let her out.
It takes effort to stop my blood from clotting, and add a little something to stop anyone I don't want hearing this… Probably. The way people are learning magic right now I can't rely on that. Only good thing is Atlanteans don't have much to do with demons -or British street magicians- if they can help if.
On the other hand, you're practically in the middle of nowhere. Who you expect to be out here, I don't know.
Fuck me I'm tired.
I slump down, the blood from my finger wound trickling onto the ground. I take a moment to focus and the cut closes. Alright, the walk and the spell wiped me out, but it's not like I can die.
Which would be kind of
torturous. So exhausted you can't
do anything, but incapable of dying from it?
Rest my eyes for a minu-
FLASH!
Given that Ghiata or Dame Carol would have nothing to do with a demon, that
Violet light can only be one person...
-tefuck! I shield my eyes with both arms as the whole area goes violet and-.
And it's like a scab getting knocked off my soul, and all the things about Kit that John gave me as a sop before he packed me off to Hell come flooding to the surface and all the weakness I tried to bury comes rushing back and I'm crying and I don't even have proper tear ducts anymore.
Chantinelle. One of human John's few demonic
friends. And sort of a demi-elemental thanks to OL's
help.
"John, whatever happened to you? Are you alright?"
"Knock it off, Elle."
Heh,
yeah. Be an arse, that'll make her want to help you...
She had been reaching out, but now she hesitates.
"Oh. It's you."
Guessing they don't exactly have the
best of relationships, then.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"John isn't exactly a easy man to get along with, and you're made of the worst parts of him."
Completely true. But he
can develop new quirks, surely.
She folds her arms across her chest, and my memories of his meetings with her mean I spot straight away that for once she's not doing it to emphasise her breasts. And her clothes… Elle wasn't an all-tart all the time sort of hellwhore, but her conservative clothing seems to fit in a way it usually didn't. Something John did, but what? There's a few magicians who've sent sex demons to nunneries before, but they weren't trying to convert the demons. And Elle…
Oh that's her game. I make myself stop blocking the memories, remembering that brief period of his life when it was all coming together. Simple domestic stuff that he'd never had before and that meant so much. And now she's looking at him curiously.
Well, that's different. Memories of Kit Ryan coming in handy, eh?
"Not just the worst parts, then. Why are you here?"
"Long story. You got a spare jacket or something?"
Or failing that, a spell for pants? Seriously, how has he not learnt something like
that before?
"Why would you-? You're naked?"
"Long story."
And one she is going to want to hear, I think. Preferably once you're
clothed.
"Here."
She takes it off and tosses it to me. I-. Steady, stand up and put it on. It's too tight, but at least I could sneak into town without getting arrested right away.
No, merely
looking like a flasher.
"Cheers. Any idea what day it is?"
"Sixth of January."
Interesting. Over nine months ago.
And no-one thought to let OL know about him disappearing? Oh, right, OL
did get told. Surprised he didn't try harder to find him, though...
Over a month. Heat should have died down a bit, and it's not like I left the stove on.
"Alright. Thanks. I owe you. Point me at the nearest town and I'll get out of you-."
"I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Damn smart. Demon or not, he's still a
Constantine.
