Second Chances Part 9
Disclaimers in Part 1.
John parked at a sloppy angle outside of the faux Mediterranean mansion. Even from curbside, Constantine could feel the negative energy swirling around the house.
Shit. He was not in best form today, but he didn’t want to admit that, even to himself. The moment you doubted yourself was the moment you lost control of the situation. Never mind. He could do this. Hell, yes, he could do this in his sleep. It’d be fine.
Constantine dropped his sunglasses on the car seat, squinted painfully in the late afternoon sunlight.
John said to Sebastian, “You stay here. This’ll be quick.”
Sebastian said, “Maybe I could -“
“Shut up and stay here.”
***
The teenager was tied down to an ornately carved bed. The kid’s face was purple, tongue distended, his hands almost black.
John stepped up on the bed, straddled the writhing body, grabbed the crown of the boy’s hair. “This is Constantine, asshole, and you are way overdue for deportation.”
***
Sebastian sat in the car, drumming his fingers on the seat.
He looked at John’s sunglasses lying on the front seat.
He looked at the house, and his brow furrowed.
He got out of the car.
***
Damn it, Rothman was right, this one was a real bitch.
Ignoring the sweat trickling down his face and the headache pounding in his brain, Constantine continued his recitation in Aramaic. The usual sets of Latin incantations hadn’t done jack, so he was trotting out the more potent stuff. As long as his initial binding spell held the demon immobile, it was just a matter of time --
Then the impossible happened.
The wooden crossbar on the bedframe snapped with a sound like a breaking bone. The boy’s freed hands clapped down on John’s biceps, fingers clawing into muscle. The last thing he saw was the boy’s insane grin -- and the boy’s face vanished --
- replaced by the mutilated skullface of a demon, glowing in reddish light. The howl of the wind, the sand and dust --
He was in Hell. Somehow the demon had yanked them both through the invisible barrier separating the planes.
Constantine wrenched his torso backwards, but his arms were anchored in concrete by the demon’s grip. He had a vial of holy water in his inside jacket pocket -
-- the jacket which he had left back in the car. Fuck! He had forgotten, been distracted --
He knew what would happen to him if he died while resident on the Hellplane. With his suicide nullified he should go to Heaven, but that was if he died on Earth. With his soul captured on the demonic side --
The demon reared its heads towards him, baring its teeth to bite, and he desperately locked his arms straight to keep the thing away from his neck and face.
Thwarted, the creature bit at his forearm instead, teeth shearing through flesh.
Through the constant sound of the burning wind, John heard a scream. Another demon was lunging at him, arm raised to strike.
Grappling with the first opponent, he had no chance of fending off the other. John felt an impotent wave of fury - knowing it was the last emotion he’d ever feel while still alive - and he screamed his fear and frustration at the onrushing monster -
A figure leaped in front of Constantine, blocking his view. He heard a yelp from the second demon, and the figure turned: Balthazar, in his human form as Sebastian, his hair thrashing in the hurricane-force wind.
The halfbreed threw himself over John, catching the exorcist around the waist with one arm while bringing his other hand down hard on the possessing demon’s face. There was a jolt -
John parked at a sloppy angle outside of the faux Mediterranean mansion. Even from curbside, Constantine could feel the negative energy swirling around the house.
Shit. He was not in best form today, but he didn’t want to admit that, even to himself. The moment you doubted yourself was the moment you lost control of the situation. Never mind. He could do this. Hell, yes, he could do this in his sleep. It’d be fine.
Constantine dropped his sunglasses on the car seat, squinted painfully in the late afternoon sunlight.
John said to Sebastian, “You stay here. This’ll be quick.”
Sebastian said, “Maybe I could -“
“Shut up and stay here.”
***
The teenager was tied down to an ornately carved bed. The kid’s face was purple, tongue distended, his hands almost black.
John stepped up on the bed, straddled the writhing body, grabbed the crown of the boy’s hair. “This is Constantine, asshole, and you are way overdue for deportation.”
***
Sebastian sat in the car, drumming his fingers on the seat.
He looked at John’s sunglasses lying on the front seat.
He looked at the house, and his brow furrowed.
He got out of the car.
***
Damn it, Rothman was right, this one was a real bitch.
Ignoring the sweat trickling down his face and the headache pounding in his brain, Constantine continued his recitation in Aramaic. The usual sets of Latin incantations hadn’t done jack, so he was trotting out the more potent stuff. As long as his initial binding spell held the demon immobile, it was just a matter of time --
Then the impossible happened.
The wooden crossbar on the bedframe snapped with a sound like a breaking bone. The boy’s freed hands clapped down on John’s biceps, fingers clawing into muscle. The last thing he saw was the boy’s insane grin -- and the boy’s face vanished --
- replaced by the mutilated skullface of a demon, glowing in reddish light. The howl of the wind, the sand and dust --
He was in Hell. Somehow the demon had yanked them both through the invisible barrier separating the planes.
Constantine wrenched his torso backwards, but his arms were anchored in concrete by the demon’s grip. He had a vial of holy water in his inside jacket pocket -
-- the jacket which he had left back in the car. Fuck! He had forgotten, been distracted --
He knew what would happen to him if he died while resident on the Hellplane. With his suicide nullified he should go to Heaven, but that was if he died on Earth. With his soul captured on the demonic side --
The demon reared its heads towards him, baring its teeth to bite, and he desperately locked his arms straight to keep the thing away from his neck and face.
Thwarted, the creature bit at his forearm instead, teeth shearing through flesh.
Through the constant sound of the burning wind, John heard a scream. Another demon was lunging at him, arm raised to strike.
Grappling with the first opponent, he had no chance of fending off the other. John felt an impotent wave of fury - knowing it was the last emotion he’d ever feel while still alive - and he screamed his fear and frustration at the onrushing monster -
A figure leaped in front of Constantine, blocking his view. He heard a yelp from the second demon, and the figure turned: Balthazar, in his human form as Sebastian, his hair thrashing in the hurricane-force wind.
The halfbreed threw himself over John, catching the exorcist around the waist with one arm while bringing his other hand down hard on the possessing demon’s face. There was a jolt -