"How do I do this, Constantine?" Saint Angel called out in a dark cellar beneath a graveyard, seated at the center of a magic circle.
No response.
"John? John Constantine!" Angel shouted louder. No longer the fragile girl fearing darkness and solitude—though, as an NYPD Major Crimes officer, she never was—she was still afraid.
This place was tied to a legend of a flaming skull appearing regularly, and with Constantine involved, it was bound to be extraordinary.
"Gabriel, instead of restoring your wings, what're you doing here? Missing your wayward lamb? A hug would be mighty encouraging," Constantine quipped, his cigarette bobbing with his words.
"Just here to see the girl. Keep your distance," Gabriel said calmly, standing still, eyeing the graveyard. The demonic aura here was odd, puzzling it.
"Oh, Angel, spread the Lord's gospel!" Constantine spread his arms, approaching Gabriel, only to be blown back by a gust from Gabriel's breath.
"I knew it. How does an angel like you become mortal? When'd you regain your power?" Constantine lay flat, his cigarette burned to ash in an instant, stinging his eyes.
"Quiet, Constantine. What you're waiting for is coming," Gabriel said, unruffled.
An elderly man with a shovel ambled into a nearby shack, then rushed out.
"Constantine? Constan—" The cellar door creaked open. A white-haired, cowboy-dressed old man entered.
In the dim light, he couldn't see but heard Angel. "Child, what's your name? Why're you here?" he asked gently.
"I'm Angel. I got separated from my partner. He told me to stay here, so…" Angel spoke truthfully, omitting details.
"Good girl, come out. I'm Carter Slade. I'll call the police. Wait here," he said, unaware Angel was his target.
He stepped into Constantine's magic circle. A flaming skull materialized before Angel.
Though she sensed demonic energy in Slade, the sight startled her. "What's this!?"
Slade was shocked. A century as Ghost Rider, he'd seen and slain countless demons, even evading Mephisto. Yet today, he'd walked into a trap.
"Little lady, you here to find me?" Slade's skull face turned to Angel.
"I'm not sure. My partner mentioned a flaming skull legend, drew this circle to protect me, and is watching nearby…" Angel sensed something was off.
"Angel, your partner lied," Slade said, pausing. "This circle isn't for protection—it traps whoever's inside after activation."
Using the light from his flames, Slade studied the circle, his experience confirming its purpose. Angel tensed, feeling his surging demonic power.
"You're dying, aren't you?" she asked, sensing his fading vitality.
"Why worry about that now?" Slade replied.
"Because… hope."
"Hope?"
"I feel hope in you," Angel said.
Their talk stopped as Constantine swaggered in, standing outside the circle. "Yo! Handy power—saves on lighting bills."
"What's your goal?" Slade asked, his Rider stirring, sensing sin. A seasoned Ghost Rider, he stayed composed, his voice raspy.
"You see it—catch a demon, trade with another," Constantine said casually, as if it were trivial.
"You know what deals with demons cost? Look at me—endless torment's the price," Slade said, agitated.
"I've dealt with them plenty. We're tight; they won't screw me. Relax," Constantine said, lighting a new cigarette. "I'm not dumb enough to get tricked."
"You're not taking her life?" Slade asked. He hated killing the innocent but sometimes had to, guarding the Saint Vanganza contract from Mephisto.
"She was bait to trap you. Job done, Sheriff Carter Slade," Constantine said nonchalantly. "Who'd guess a greedy crook like you would defy a contract for conscience? Or maybe you never cared about contracts."
"Shut up!" Slade's flames roared, but a holy light blocked them within the circle.
He turned to Angel, still seated. "Who are you?" The holy glow came from her, revealed by the fully activated circle.
"Saint Angel Dawson, her name. Bet you didn't expect to share a room with a saint," Constantine said, raising an eyebrow.
(End of Chapter)
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