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Constantine returned from the thirty-first century with a headache that felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to his temporal lobe. The mission had been... complicated. Dr. Chen had made her choice evacuated her team, let the accident proceed, and emerged as something between human and temporal god. But she'd done it with support, with friends who understood what she'd become.
Whether that prevented the Chronomaster apocalypse remained to be seen. Kang had seemed satisfied, which probably meant Constantine had been manipulated into doing exactly what the conqueror wanted.
He was still processing that delightful realization when his office phone rang at three in the morning.
"Constantine Investigations," he answered, half-asleep.
"You the magician who handles supernatural problems?" The voice was deep, gravelly, with an edge that suggested the speaker had seen things that would break normal people.
"Depends who's asking."
"Name's Blade. Vampire hunter. I've got a situation that needs someone with your particular skillset."
Constantine was suddenly very awake. Blade. He knew the name everyone in the supernatural community did. The Daywalker, half-vampire himself, who'd been waging a one-man war against the undead for decades.
"I'm listening."
"Not over the phone. Meet me at the Red Hook docks, warehouse seventeen. One hour. Come alone, and Constantine?" Blade's voice dropped lower. "If this is a trap, if you're working with them, I'll know. And you'll be dead before you can cast your first spell."
The line went dead.
Constantine stared at the phone, then at the ceiling, then at the bottle of whiskey on his desk that was looking increasingly appealing.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, reaching for his coat instead of the bottle. "Can't have one quiet night."
The docks at four in the morning were exactly as inviting as expected which was to say, not at all. Fog rolled off the water, carrying the scent of brine and rot. Warehouse seventeen loomed ahead, its windows dark, the kind of place where bodies disappeared and nobody asked questions.
Constantine approached cautiously, his magical senses extended. He detected wards good ones, designed to keep out vampires specifically. And inside, a presence that registered as both human and decidedly not.
"You're punctual," a voice said from the shadows.
Blade stepped into the dim light filtering through broken windows. He was exactly as Constantine had imagined tall, muscular, Black, wearing sunglasses despite the darkness and a leather coat that probably concealed enough weapons to start a small war. But it was the aura that struck Constantine most: this man walked the line between human and monster, and he walked it with grim purpose.
"You're the vampire hunter," Constantine said. "And you called a magician. That suggests your usual methods aren't working."
"Perceptive." Blade moved with economical grace, every motion suggesting coiled violence. "I've been tracking a nest in Lower Manhattan for three weeks. Standard operation locate, infiltrate, exterminate. But this nest is different."
"Different how?"
Blade pulled out a tablet, showing surveillance footage. A building Constantine recognized luxury apartments in Tribeca. But the residents visible in the footage moved wrong, their shadows occasionally disconnecting from their bodies.
"Vampires disguised as wealthy humans," Blade explained. "Not unusual. But these aren't feeding normally. They're collecting people specifically, people with magical potential. Witches, minor practitioners, anyone who can touch the supernatural."
Constantine felt dread settling in his stomach. "They're building something. A ritual."
"That's my read. But I can't confirm because every time I get close, I hit wards I can't penetrate. Not physical barriers mystical ones. That's where you come in."
"You want me to break their wards so you can do what you do best."
"Simplified, but accurate." Blade's expression was unreadable behind those sunglasses. "I've heard about you, Constantine. Word is you're trouble. But you're also good at what you do. And right now, I need good more than I need safe."
Constantine lit a Silk Cut, considering. "What's the payment?"
"Payment?" Blade's tone suggested he wasn't used to negotiating. "I'm offering you a chance to stop vampires from completing a ritual that probably ends with a lot of dead magic users. That's not enough?"
"I'm a professional. Professionals get paid."
For a moment, Constantine thought Blade might just shoot him. Instead, the vampire hunter reached into his coat and pulled out a vial of dark red liquid.
"Vampire blood. From an Elder. Killed him myself in Prague, 1997. This blood has properties healing, enhancement, protection against mental influence. Worth more than gold in the supernatural community."
Constantine examined the vial with his magical sight. The blood thrummed with power, tainted but potent. "This would fetch a fortune."
"Consider it your retainer. You help me stop this ritual, you get paid proper afterward. Cash, information, whatever you need that I can provide."
"You're that desperate?"
"I'm that pragmatic." Blade pocketed the vial, having apparently decided Constantine would accept. "I work alone, usually. But I've been doing this long enough to know when I need specialists. You're a specialist."
Constantine had to respect the honesty. "Alright. Show me what we're dealing with."
They spent the next hour reviewing intelligence. Blade's research was impressive surveillance footage, floor plans of the Tribeca building, dossiers on the vampires' human identities. The nest was led by someone named Countess Varnae, an Elder vampire with connections to European nobility dating back centuries.
"Varnae," Constantine muttered. "That's a name with weight. She's old-blood aristocracy. Doesn't usually operate in the States."
"Until three months ago." Blade pulled up more files. "She arrived from Prague your old stomping grounds, apparently and immediately started establishing this nest. Quiet, professional, no messy feeding. Almost like she's been planning this for years."
"Because she probably has." Constantine studied the Countess's photo a woman who appeared to be in her forties but could be centuries old, with aristocratic features and eyes that suggested intelligence and cruelty in equal measure. "Vampires like her don't move without purpose. What's the target date for this ritual?"
"Tomorrow night. All Saints' Eve."
"Of course it is." Constantine checked his watch barely twenty-four hours to prepare. "Right. We'll need help. I know people "
"I said I work alone."
"And I said this is a ritual targeting magic users. That means complex wards, multiple vampire guards, and a spell that probably requires interruption at precise moments. Two people can't do this, Blade. We need a team."
Blade was silent for a long moment, clearly warring with his instinct for solo operations. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Small team. People you trust absolutely. And they follow my lead on vampire combat."
"Fair enough." Constantine pulled out his phone, texting Luke Cage and Danny Rand. "I know some heroes who specialize in this kind of work."
Within an hour, they'd assembled at the warehouse. Luke Cage arrived first, his unbreakable skin and street-level experience making him perfect for a vampire fight. Danny Rand followed, the Iron Fist's chi powers effective against the undead. And finally, Colleen Wing, whose sword skills and mystical training would prove invaluable.
Blade looked them over like a general inspecting troops. "This is your team?"
"Heroes for Hire," Luke said, extending his hand. "We've dealt with supernatural threats before."
Blade shook, his grip testing Luke's strength. "Your reputation precedes you. But vampires aren't demons or street thugs. They're apex predators. One mistake and you're dead or worse."
"We can handle ourselves," Danny said, his fist igniting with golden chi. "More importantly, what's the plan?"
They gathered around a makeshift planning table Constantine's magical map of the Tribeca building overlaid on Blade's tactical layout. The building had seventeen floors, with the penthouse serving as the nest's headquarters.
"The ritual will take place in the penthouse," Constantine explained, tracing ward lines with his finger. "Varnae's set up a massive mystical barrier nothing gets in or out without her permission. But every ward has a key, a specific frequency that deactivates it. I need to get close enough to analyze the ward structure, then I can create a counter-key."
"Which means infiltration," Blade said. "The building has security human guards on the ground floor, vampire sentries on floors twelve through sixteen. Penthouse access is restricted to Varnae's inner circle."
"How many vampires total?" Colleen asked, her hand resting on her katana's grip.
"Twenty confirmed, possibly more in reserve." Blade's expression was grim. "Standard nest size, but these aren't feral. They're disciplined, trained. Probably former military or security in their human lives."
Luke whistled. "Twenty vampires against five of us. I've had worse odds, but not by much."
"We're not fighting twenty vampires head-on," Constantine said. "That's suicide. We need to be smart use the building's layout against them, isolate and eliminate sentries quietly, then hit the ritual before they can complete it."
"Speaking of the ritual," Danny interjected, "what exactly are they trying to accomplish?"
Constantine and Blade exchanged glances. Constantine nodded for the vampire hunter to explain.
"Best we can determine," Blade said, "they're attempting to resurrect someone. An ancient vampire named Varnae yes, same name as the Countess. He was the first vampire, the progenitor of the entire species. Died centuries ago in a battle with sorcerers. The Countess has been collecting magic users to serve as batteries for the resurrection spell."
"How many people has she taken?" Colleen's voice was tight with anger.
"Seventeen that we know of. All still alive she needs them conscious for the ritual. They're being held in the penthouse, probably in some kind of mystical containment."
"Then we're also running a rescue op," Luke said. "Extract the prisoners while stopping the ritual and fighting vampires. This keeps getting better."
"Which is why we need perfect execution," Blade said. "Constantine handles the wards and ritual disruption. The rest of you focus on combat and extraction. I'll handle Countess Varnae personally."
"You sure?" Danny asked. "Elder vampires are "
"My specialty." Blade's tone left no room for argument. "I've been killing vampires since before you were born. The Countess is dangerous, but she's not the first Elder I've faced."
Constantine studied Blade more carefully. The man radiated confidence, but beneath it was something else a deep, personal hatred for vampires that went beyond professional dedication.
"You've got history with her," Constantine said. It wasn't a question.
Blade's jaw tightened. "Prague, 1997. Same trip where I got that Elder blood. The Countess was there, part of a larger operation. I killed her maker, stopped their plan. But she escaped. Been hunting her ever since."
"And now she's on your home turf, completing unfinished business." Constantine lit another cigarette. "This is personal for you."
"Everything I do is personal." Blade turned back to the map. "But that doesn't change the mission. We stop the ritual, save the prisoners, eliminate the nest. Personal satisfaction is just a bonus."
They spent the next few hours planning in detail. Entry points, fallback positions, communication protocols. Blade provided weapons UV flashbangs, stakes made from consecrated wood, silver-edged blades. Constantine prepared mystical countermeasures wards against vampire mental influence, protective amulets, a disruption spell for the resurrection ritual.
As dawn approached and they prepared to disperse for final preparations, Blade pulled Constantine aside.
"I need to know something," the vampire hunter said quietly. "Can you actually stop that ritual? The resurrection of Varnae if it succeeds, we're not just dealing with an Elder vampire. We're dealing with the progenitor, a being of immense power. Can you handle that?"
Constantine met Blade's hidden gaze steadily. "I've stopped apocalypses before. Banished demons, sealed Hell rifts, prevented temporal catastrophes. One resurrection spell? Yeah, I can handle it. Question is, can you handle Countess Varnae without letting revenge cloud your judgment?"
Blade was silent for a moment, then he smiled a cold expression without humor. "I've been hunting vampires for forty years, Constantine. I learned to control my anger before you were born. The Countess will die because she needs to die, not because I want her to."
"Good enough." Constantine offered his hand. "Partners, then. Until this is done."
Blade shook. "Until it's done."
As Constantine left the warehouse, the sun was rising over the docks the first light of All Saints' Eve. Tomorrow night, they'd assault a vampire nest, stop a resurrection ritual, and hopefully save seventeen people from being sacrificed to bring back the first vampire.
Just another day in the life of John Constantine.
His phone buzzed. A text from Strange:Â I've been researching the Varnae resurrection. There's something you need to know. The ritual doesn't just bring him back it creates a permanent link between the physical and supernatural realms. If it succeeds, every vampire will become exponentially more powerful. Meet me at the Sanctum.
Constantine changed direction, heading for Greenwich Village. Because apparently, the stakes pun very much intended were even higher than they'd thought.
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