Second Chances Part 5
Disclaimers in Part 1.
Constantine fidgeted in the waiting room chair.
“How do you know this man Sebastian?” he asked in Spanish.
The old man replied, “I met him at the cathedral. I go there to pray and to think. People say it is a beautiful cathedral. Very modern, they say. I would not know, I cannot see it, but it is a very nice place to sit. I sit outside in the plaza, or inside when it gets too hot -- ”
Constantine interrupted, “Yes, and Sebastian?”
The old man waved a hand placatingly and continued, “One day my grandson told me that there was a man sitting in the plaza. He said that this man looked ill. He said he had seen this man at the cathedral before. I told my grandson, take me to this man and I will speak to him. Perhaps this man was sick and needed help.
“When I got close to this man, I could tell. The evil ones had been after him.”
Constantine said, “What do you mean?”
The old man wagged a finger in Constantine’s general direction. “You can tell, can’t you, Senor Exorcista, when the devils have been molesting a person? And you can send the devils away? So can I. So could my father, back in our village, and his father and grandfather before him. My family has known how to handle these evil ones, since back before the time when the Spanish came.”
Constantine nodded reflexively. Demonology was common belief in most religions. And there were methods other than the Catholic rites for dealing with the supernatural.
The old man continued, “This man was injured. He was not breathing properly. I asked why the evil ones were tormenting him. He said he did not know. He said they did not attack him at the cathedral so he went there for safety. But no one was allowed to stay there overnight, and the guards would make him leave. Then he would try to find a safe place on the street to hide and sleep. Sometimes he would be safe, and sometimes the evil ones would find him and hurt him.
“He was very tired and distressed. He did not know what to do.
“I told him to come with me and my grandson. I said I knew about these things, and I would help him. Now he lives in our apartment with us, with my daughters and sons-in-law and my grandchildren. He works at night and sleeps during the day, when the other people in the family are at work or at school. He is no trouble and he pays us money. It is a good arrangement.”
Constantine said, “Senor Allarde, do you know what your ‘Sebastian’ is?” It was difficult for John to say the name without loading it with sarcasm. History associated the name Sebastian with a man who’d been a saint, a martyr. But names could lead to some strange associations. John had met more than one ugly bad-tempered Latino guy who had the name Jesus.
His own name was a contradiction. The Apostle John, called the beloved disciple - that didn’t fit Constantine, who privately admitted he had never been beloved of anyone, not even his own parents, weird freaky head-case kid that he was. But John the author of Revelations, who saw angels and demons and monsters and had a vision of the world being destroyed -- yeah, Constantine could relate to that namesake.
Miguel Allarde said, “Yes, I know what Sebastian is. He is not a man like you and me. He is a different kind of creature. There are many different kinds of creatures here on this earth.” He chuckled, and reached over blindly to pat Constantine’s arm. “We have neighbors who are Muslims. The youngest daughter of that family and I talk together. She said that young Sebastian is a jinn. She and I had a good talk about jinns. She says that her uncle back in Egypt is a jinn.”
Miguel laughed. “Perhaps she is just a silly girl telling tales. But it is true that there are many different kinds of spirits. Back when I was a young man, back in our village in Guatemala, we had many different spirits. There do not seem to be so many spirits here in the city. Perhaps they do not like all the cars and the noise.”
“Jinn or demon or spirit, shit by a different name smells just as bad,” said Constantine.
“This Muslim girl says there are good jinns and bad jinns,” the old man continued serenely.
“No doubt what this one is,” Constantine muttered.
“Sebastian is not a bad man in his nature,” said Miguel Allarde.
John shook his head. “I’ve known him for a long time. Believe me, he is a serious pendejo. Very dangerous. It’s lucky for you and your family that he - he hasn’t caused you any trouble yet.”
“Hmmm,” said the old man. “Things change, Senor. One can always make a choice.”
“Well, ‘Sebastian’ made his choice a long time ago,” said Constantine.
The old man continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Evil can pervert. It can torture and warp the mind and the body. But evil cannot create. Hell cannot give life. Life is of God, Senor Exorcista. Hope is of God. Where there is life, there is always hope. The Bible tells of the lost sheep, and the prodigal son returned home. Even the worse of sins are washed away by true repentance and the grace of God.”
Constantine said, “Everybody gets to go home in the end, Senor Allarde? You know, the Catholic Church considers the doctrine of Universal Reconciliation to be a heresy ever since they canned Origen for it. If I were you, I wouldn’t tell your priest about this philosophy of yours.”
Across the room, Sebastian appeared, his wounded hand in a proper hospital bandage, the other holding a small paper bag.
Sebastian said in Spanish, “Miguel, we can go now.”
“What did the doctors say?”
“They gave me medicines. We are finished here. You need to go home and rest, Miguel.”
The old man got to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “We will both go home and rest.”
Constantine said, “You want a ride?”
Sebastian looked at him suspiciously. Constantine cocked an eyebrow in return. Driving them home would give him an opportunity to see the location where the halfbreed had insinuated himself into this family.
“Thank you, Senor, you are very kind,” said Miguel Allarde.
***
The Allarde home was located in one of the innumerable small tenement buildings west of downtown. Not all that far from the bowling alley and Constantine’s place.
As his two passengers disembarked, Constantine called, “Hey” and gestured at the halfbreed.
Sebastian leaned down to the open car window.
“Fair warning,” said Constantine. “I’m watching you.”
Sebastian snorted. “Yeah? I never would have known.”
“Quit dicking around,” said the exorcist sharply. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. For now. But step out of line, and I’ll deport your ass so quickly you won’t have time to say goodbye in Spanish, English or Swahili. So watch yourself. *Balthazar*.”
The halfbreed’s eyes widened and as he opened his mouth to speak, Constantine gunned the car and pulled away, glimpsing the halfbreed in the rear-view mirror, staring after him.
*** *** ***
Cell phone rang. “Constantine.”
“Hello, John, it’s Leslie. Got a moment?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“I’ve got the lab results on that Sebastian de la Cathedral.”
John switched the phone to his other hand. “And?”
“There are some odd things.”
Come on, spit it out Archer, Constantine thought irritably, but restrained himself to saying, “Such as?”
“He was sick. One of the worse cases of blood poisoning that I’ve ever seen. He could’ve lost the arm. His temperature was 107 degrees, his white count was sky high. I didn’t x-ray, but I’d bet he has several cracked ribs.”
“Sounds pretty bad.”
“It was, but it wasn’t,” said Archer. “That’s the strange thing. He wasn’t debilitated. Not like he should’ve been. He should have been delirious or unconscious from the fever. He should have been in agony with those ribs. Instead he was rolling his eyes at me and making sarcastic comments, like asking how long I’d known you and how close were we.”
Constantine asked, “So, bottom line: what does it mean?”
“Beats me. But it’s weird. Near impossible. All I can assume is that he’s got a phenomenal resistance to pain. And a superhuman immune system. We gave him some antibiotics and other stuff that should help, but frankly, he might have made a full recovery on his own. Oh, John, I have to tell you…”
“Yeah?”
“I apologize, but I did give him one piece of information that I shouldn’t have. He asked about your smoking. I said I couldn’t discuss any other patient’s situation. Then he asked if you had cancer. I told him again I couldn’t discuss it, but he wouldn’t let it drop. He was insistent, so I finally told him that no, you didn’t have cancer, that you were in remission. The moment I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. I’m not sure what came over me. It was a violation of your privacy, John, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Archer had saved his life more than once; he wasn’t going to browbeat her over something as trivial as that. But that the halfbreed had known to ask about cancer, and that the stern-minded Archer had somehow felt compelled to the halfbreed’s question….that was interesting. Or ominous.
“Anything else, John?”
“No,” said Constantine. “Thanks for the effort, Les. See you when I see you.”
“Take care, John.”
Constantine terminated the call, frowning.
Whatever had happened to Balthazar - however the demon prince had come to be reincarnated as a fully humanized halfbreed that bled and felt pain - he seemed to be evolving into something else, something more. All in a few short months.
The question was: how many supernatural powers would the demon be able to recover?
And then -- what?
Constantine fidgeted in the waiting room chair.
“How do you know this man Sebastian?” he asked in Spanish.
The old man replied, “I met him at the cathedral. I go there to pray and to think. People say it is a beautiful cathedral. Very modern, they say. I would not know, I cannot see it, but it is a very nice place to sit. I sit outside in the plaza, or inside when it gets too hot -- ”
Constantine interrupted, “Yes, and Sebastian?”
The old man waved a hand placatingly and continued, “One day my grandson told me that there was a man sitting in the plaza. He said that this man looked ill. He said he had seen this man at the cathedral before. I told my grandson, take me to this man and I will speak to him. Perhaps this man was sick and needed help.
“When I got close to this man, I could tell. The evil ones had been after him.”
Constantine said, “What do you mean?”
The old man wagged a finger in Constantine’s general direction. “You can tell, can’t you, Senor Exorcista, when the devils have been molesting a person? And you can send the devils away? So can I. So could my father, back in our village, and his father and grandfather before him. My family has known how to handle these evil ones, since back before the time when the Spanish came.”
Constantine nodded reflexively. Demonology was common belief in most religions. And there were methods other than the Catholic rites for dealing with the supernatural.
The old man continued, “This man was injured. He was not breathing properly. I asked why the evil ones were tormenting him. He said he did not know. He said they did not attack him at the cathedral so he went there for safety. But no one was allowed to stay there overnight, and the guards would make him leave. Then he would try to find a safe place on the street to hide and sleep. Sometimes he would be safe, and sometimes the evil ones would find him and hurt him.
“He was very tired and distressed. He did not know what to do.
“I told him to come with me and my grandson. I said I knew about these things, and I would help him. Now he lives in our apartment with us, with my daughters and sons-in-law and my grandchildren. He works at night and sleeps during the day, when the other people in the family are at work or at school. He is no trouble and he pays us money. It is a good arrangement.”
Constantine said, “Senor Allarde, do you know what your ‘Sebastian’ is?” It was difficult for John to say the name without loading it with sarcasm. History associated the name Sebastian with a man who’d been a saint, a martyr. But names could lead to some strange associations. John had met more than one ugly bad-tempered Latino guy who had the name Jesus.
His own name was a contradiction. The Apostle John, called the beloved disciple - that didn’t fit Constantine, who privately admitted he had never been beloved of anyone, not even his own parents, weird freaky head-case kid that he was. But John the author of Revelations, who saw angels and demons and monsters and had a vision of the world being destroyed -- yeah, Constantine could relate to that namesake.
Miguel Allarde said, “Yes, I know what Sebastian is. He is not a man like you and me. He is a different kind of creature. There are many different kinds of creatures here on this earth.” He chuckled, and reached over blindly to pat Constantine’s arm. “We have neighbors who are Muslims. The youngest daughter of that family and I talk together. She said that young Sebastian is a jinn. She and I had a good talk about jinns. She says that her uncle back in Egypt is a jinn.”
Miguel laughed. “Perhaps she is just a silly girl telling tales. But it is true that there are many different kinds of spirits. Back when I was a young man, back in our village in Guatemala, we had many different spirits. There do not seem to be so many spirits here in the city. Perhaps they do not like all the cars and the noise.”
“Jinn or demon or spirit, shit by a different name smells just as bad,” said Constantine.
“This Muslim girl says there are good jinns and bad jinns,” the old man continued serenely.
“No doubt what this one is,” Constantine muttered.
“Sebastian is not a bad man in his nature,” said Miguel Allarde.
John shook his head. “I’ve known him for a long time. Believe me, he is a serious pendejo. Very dangerous. It’s lucky for you and your family that he - he hasn’t caused you any trouble yet.”
“Hmmm,” said the old man. “Things change, Senor. One can always make a choice.”
“Well, ‘Sebastian’ made his choice a long time ago,” said Constantine.
The old man continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Evil can pervert. It can torture and warp the mind and the body. But evil cannot create. Hell cannot give life. Life is of God, Senor Exorcista. Hope is of God. Where there is life, there is always hope. The Bible tells of the lost sheep, and the prodigal son returned home. Even the worse of sins are washed away by true repentance and the grace of God.”
Constantine said, “Everybody gets to go home in the end, Senor Allarde? You know, the Catholic Church considers the doctrine of Universal Reconciliation to be a heresy ever since they canned Origen for it. If I were you, I wouldn’t tell your priest about this philosophy of yours.”
Across the room, Sebastian appeared, his wounded hand in a proper hospital bandage, the other holding a small paper bag.
Sebastian said in Spanish, “Miguel, we can go now.”
“What did the doctors say?”
“They gave me medicines. We are finished here. You need to go home and rest, Miguel.”
The old man got to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “We will both go home and rest.”
Constantine said, “You want a ride?”
Sebastian looked at him suspiciously. Constantine cocked an eyebrow in return. Driving them home would give him an opportunity to see the location where the halfbreed had insinuated himself into this family.
“Thank you, Senor, you are very kind,” said Miguel Allarde.
***
The Allarde home was located in one of the innumerable small tenement buildings west of downtown. Not all that far from the bowling alley and Constantine’s place.
As his two passengers disembarked, Constantine called, “Hey” and gestured at the halfbreed.
Sebastian leaned down to the open car window.
“Fair warning,” said Constantine. “I’m watching you.”
Sebastian snorted. “Yeah? I never would have known.”
“Quit dicking around,” said the exorcist sharply. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. For now. But step out of line, and I’ll deport your ass so quickly you won’t have time to say goodbye in Spanish, English or Swahili. So watch yourself. *Balthazar*.”
The halfbreed’s eyes widened and as he opened his mouth to speak, Constantine gunned the car and pulled away, glimpsing the halfbreed in the rear-view mirror, staring after him.
*** *** ***
Cell phone rang. “Constantine.”
“Hello, John, it’s Leslie. Got a moment?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“I’ve got the lab results on that Sebastian de la Cathedral.”
John switched the phone to his other hand. “And?”
“There are some odd things.”
Come on, spit it out Archer, Constantine thought irritably, but restrained himself to saying, “Such as?”
“He was sick. One of the worse cases of blood poisoning that I’ve ever seen. He could’ve lost the arm. His temperature was 107 degrees, his white count was sky high. I didn’t x-ray, but I’d bet he has several cracked ribs.”
“Sounds pretty bad.”
“It was, but it wasn’t,” said Archer. “That’s the strange thing. He wasn’t debilitated. Not like he should’ve been. He should have been delirious or unconscious from the fever. He should have been in agony with those ribs. Instead he was rolling his eyes at me and making sarcastic comments, like asking how long I’d known you and how close were we.”
Constantine asked, “So, bottom line: what does it mean?”
“Beats me. But it’s weird. Near impossible. All I can assume is that he’s got a phenomenal resistance to pain. And a superhuman immune system. We gave him some antibiotics and other stuff that should help, but frankly, he might have made a full recovery on his own. Oh, John, I have to tell you…”
“Yeah?”
“I apologize, but I did give him one piece of information that I shouldn’t have. He asked about your smoking. I said I couldn’t discuss any other patient’s situation. Then he asked if you had cancer. I told him again I couldn’t discuss it, but he wouldn’t let it drop. He was insistent, so I finally told him that no, you didn’t have cancer, that you were in remission. The moment I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. I’m not sure what came over me. It was a violation of your privacy, John, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Archer had saved his life more than once; he wasn’t going to browbeat her over something as trivial as that. But that the halfbreed had known to ask about cancer, and that the stern-minded Archer had somehow felt compelled to the halfbreed’s question….that was interesting. Or ominous.
“Anything else, John?”
“No,” said Constantine. “Thanks for the effort, Les. See you when I see you.”
“Take care, John.”
Constantine terminated the call, frowning.
Whatever had happened to Balthazar - however the demon prince had come to be reincarnated as a fully humanized halfbreed that bled and felt pain - he seemed to be evolving into something else, something more. All in a few short months.
The question was: how many supernatural powers would the demon be able to recover?
And then -- what?