Constantine woke up screaming.
His mind was racing and everything was blurry. The nightmare that he had faded away almost instantly. He looked around himself, finding a familiar sight. The same couch he used to sleep on in Katherine’s house. The living room was much the same as he had left it just before they left for the auction. Yet everything felt wrong, different. He lay back down trying to rest a bit more before he prompted himself back up.
How long have I been out? He asked himself.
He tossed the sheets aside and put his feet on the ground, but a sharp pain coursed through his left thigh. Looking down at it he saw the bloody bandages that were wrapped around his leg. Constantine tried putting pressure on it but it would not do. A memory of the past night passed through his mind, the gun that shot the bullets that wounded him and killed his dearest love. A sadness that was all too familiar enveloped him. His eyes stared down at the space between his feet, as he sighed and tried standing up again.
“You shouldn’t try doing that for a bit.” A voice called from his right. He turned, startled, towards it and saw Evan standing on the couch behind the coffee table. He was wearing a pair of trousers along with a gray shirt, the upper side of his head wrapped in bandages as well.
“Evan? The hell happened to you?” His friend did not respond, his face painted with shame and disappointment. “Evan!” Constantine called out, more firmly this time.
“Uriel’s gone, Constantine.” His voice cut a wedge through his already weary mind. Constantine stared at him in shock, mouth hanging open.
“N-no…” He stuttered. “Not her too… no.”
“And Katherine’s the one that took her.” And these final words sliced it open.
“What?”
“While you were unconscious last night, we reached the mansion, Uriel was out on the foyer, hands and wings bound by… some magic, beyond me. I wanted to rush towards her but before that Katherine knocked me out with her halberd. When I woke up I was upstairs in my room, and the two were nowhere to be found.”
Constantine slumped back against the couch, not knowing what to say anymore. His eyes just gazed blankly ahead.
“Why?” He finally spoke after a pressing few minutes of silence.
Evan just shook his head. “If I knew, man, I… I just don’t know what to say really.” He grit his teeth and lowered his head. “Oh, remember that guy, at the auction?”
“Which guy, the Mephy guy? Meph-something his name was no? Is that who you’re talking about?” Constantine said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, him. He’s here, outside in the garden.”
“Well, let’s go, I want to talk to him, and he must be tired of waiting. How long have I been out by the way?” He asked, trying to stand up once again, this time, succeeding as Evan rushed to help him.
“Just two nights. Your leg is fine, the bullet passed through without much lasting damage. At least that's what the demon said. It should heal fine in a week or so. Before we go, though, I must say. I know the fucker saved my life back there, but… do you think we should trust him? I mean, he did work with Azazel, and he is a demon.” Evan said while carrying his friend along.
“... I trusted Katherine too, until just a few moments ago. I guess we’ll have to see.” Constantine said, his voice trembling with anger.
Minutes later, the two friends found themselves outside, sitting in the wooden chairs of the garden. Facing them was the demon Mephistopheles. Black hair that came to his neck, glum blue eyes and an unshaved beard adorned his face. The demon seemed more physically fit than the two of them, and was slightly shorter than Evan.
“Greetings.” Mephistopheles began, his fingers woven between themselves and his hands centered in front of him on the table.“Constantine right?”
He nodded.
“Your friend here told me what happened, I’m sorry about your other friend, and I’m even sorrier for what happened after that.”
Evan scoffed at him.“Why would-”
“It’s, it’s fine.” Constantine cut him off. “I never imagined Katherine doing something like that to us. Was it because of Nikolai? Or was it because we didn’t kill Azazel? Who knows… but why take Uriel too?”
Mephistopheles looked up at him with grieving eyes at the sound of her name. He reached over at the side of the table and dragged closer a small blue book.
“I… may have some ideas as to why she took her.” He told them, as both perked up at the sight of the book. “I found this in one of the rooms. It was sealed, but tetragram seals are easy to break once you know how.” He opened it and inside were handwritten symbols and strange writing, along with small bits torn off from other sources and taped inside.
“A journal? Doesn’t look like normal letters” Evan asked.
“It’s demonic, and I’ve read through it. Not exactly a journal. More like an agenda of sorts.”
“What does it say?” Constantine said, leaning forward to get a better look.
Mephistopheles leaned back and sighed. He wiped his face with his right hand and just stared at the book, rubbing his chin. “It’s a ritual.” He finally stated.
Constantine looked at him, his brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open. “A ritual, for what?”
“It doesn’t say anywhere what exactly for. But… it does say over, and over how it is all revolving around the angel.” Mephistopheles’ rough deep voice hiccuped a few times as he spoke. Constantine looked up at the demon, who was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “Whatever this is, I fear we can’t let this happen.” Mephy finally finished, closing the book, leaning back and taking a deep breath.
“We?” Evan replied. Mephistopheles looked at him, curious. “Weren’t you after Uriel too? Why would we trust you not to have your own plans with her?”
“Look. I know, I was after her, I know I’m the reason Azazel, and his whole group of demon cunts are after her but listen to me. I only hunted her for answers, and when I found out what I found out, I left Azazel.”
“What, did, you find out?” Evan continued.
“That she’s my daughter.”
Both of them started at Mephistopheles in stunned silence, their faces almost frozen. Evan slowly opened his mouth to speak, but closed it right back and gulped, nodding.
“Um… do I even wanna ask how is that possible?” Constantine said finally moving, leaning back.
“It’s a long story, Constantine. Short version is that I fell in love with the wrong person, pissed off the wrong people and found out I had a daughter that I forgot existed.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“How can you forget something like that?” Evan blurted.
Mephistopheles turned back to him.
“Hell is… not a fun place to spend thousands of years in. Time and agony wears you down, your own sins laid out before you again and again. Eventually you... forget… things. You forget your friends, you forget your family, you forget yourself. Until what feels like an eternity later, when you open your eyes and there is nothing left. You take a look in a mirror and see how you’ve forsaken everything, even yourself.”
Evan looked down, disappointed in himself. “So, do you have any idea on how to get her back?”
“If Katherine is smart, which I have no doubt she is, she’ll know how to cover her tracks from me. But someone may be able to help us.” He grinned.
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Nikolai forced herself up from the floor of the church, but collapsed back on her knees as her legs gave way underneath her. She groaned, looking up at the stained glass around her. The stone floor was cold to the touch, but her body was colder. She strained herself once more, managing this time to stabilize up straight. Her legs wobbling and shivering as she made slow steps towards the entrance. A second pair of footsteps rang in her ears, heavy-heeled shoes ringing on the hard floor. Before her, out of a chamber that she did not see, walked out a very old nun, clad in the traditional black and white robe. Her face and body were crooked and meek, adorned by hundreds of deep wrinkles. The woman saw Nikolai barely standing in front of her and stopped, her mouth hanging open.
“Oh sweet lord in heaven.” she exclaimed, crossing herself.
Nikolai opened her mouth, and a very faint sound came out. Her voice was coarse and in pain. “H-help… help me!”
The nun shrieked as if something just bit her. She raised her trembling arm, a beautiful silver cross clutched within her fingers, pointing it towards Nikolai. Confused, the girl walked closer towards her.
“Why won’t you help me?” She said, the nun frozen in fear in front of her, still clutching her cross.
“Begone! D-don’t come any closer.” She whimpered.
“Why… why won’t you help me? Nikolai repeated, the corners of her mouth curving into a twisted smile.
“LEAVE DEMON, LEAVE THIS PLACE! P-please...” The nun screamed back at her, backing off, faster and faster, until she turned to run. The large cathedral doors stood in her way. She turned towards Nikolai, falling on the ground, and once more raising her cross at her.
Nikolai stopped in front of the nun, looking down curiously at her. The fire around her eye burned fiercely, enveloping the upper side of her face. She placed her hand on the cross, and the head of her palm quickly turned it flaming red. The nun held it until she could no longer, releasing it and letting it fall to the floor where it sizzled in contact with the coldness underneath. Nikolai pushed it aside with her bare foot, the cross slowly cooling back down. She then looked at her hand, grinned, and leaned forward in front of the terrified nun.
“You are a woman of the church are you not?” She asked, her voice coarse and intimidating.
The nun only weeped, and covered her face.
“I asked you a question. Look at me.” She said, very annoyed all of a sudden.
The woman in front of her still sobbed.
“LOOK AT ME!” Nikolai snapped, her voice shrill and horrific, her body twitching violently along with her scream.The nun turned to her, eyes red and puffy, but now strangely determined.
“Y-yes. I am a woman of this church.” She answered calmly.
“A woman of the church…” Nikolai echoed. “Meaning a being of God, does it not?”
The nun nodded.
“Then how…” Nikolai turned around, her hands opened towards the church room. “...How can you leave this place in such filth?”
The nun looked at her, taken aback and confused.
“Wh-what? I don’t understa-”
“How can you understand? You are unclean, impure! I merely asked for your help, and what do you do? You turn me away, insult me. How can you call yourself a being of God? How can you live in such lies, pretending to be something you are not. Your presence alone makes this church reek of foulness!” Nikolai turned back to her. Her body emanated intense heat and hatred, yet her smile was sickeningly sweet and loving. She raised her left arm, her scarred open palm dangerously close to the nun’s weeping decrepit face. “You disgust me.”
“Nikolai.” A voice called to her. The tone was all too familiar, and it stung within her mind when she heard it. Nikolai raised herself and turned towards it, and Katherine stood far in front of her. Katherine was wearing her armor, black plates with golden edges on her forearms, the larger right shoulder pad and the tall protective sheet. Her legs had thick metal boots, colored silver in the church light and her gray scarf stretched to her knees. A short white decorative skirt covered her armored thighs. In one hand she carried her halberd, and with the other, she held a body. Tossed over her shoulders was Uriel, unconscious.
“You. Who are you?” Nikolai staggered back a few steps, wary of the woman in front of her. “Why do I know who you are and yet… I don’t remember you.”
Katherine stared at her, her face not betraying a single emotion. “I can’t know what happened to you while you were dead, so I do not know why you do not remember me.” She stepped towards her, her boots echoing loudly on the stone floor. “But, know this Nikolai, I am Katherine. Before I died you knew me as someone else. Caitlyn. I am your sister.”
Nikolai looked at her, worried and confused. “I know you… But.. I can’t … It hurts.. why does it hurt...” She held her head in her hands and wailed side to side.
“Nikolai. She told you to cleanse the world did she not?” She looked up to Katherine, her eyes wide. She then walked closer to Nikolai and smiled. “She told me the same thing. And I know how.“
“H-how?” Katherine grinned and tilted her head towards the angel on shoulder. Nikolai’s eyes followed, and then she nodded in agreement. “If you say you are who you are, and that you too want to purify this world… I’ll listen.”
“Wonderful. Let us go then. You’re going to need some new clothes though.”
“Wait… what about her? She can’t remain as she is. I will not allow it.” Nikolai pointed at the nun, still cowering in front of the church doors.
Katherine’s eyes turned to the nun.
“Get up.” She said mercilessly, and the old lady complied. Katherine rotated on her heels, and swung her halberd. The blade embedded itself in the wood of the church doors, after passing through the nun’s neck. The lifeless body limped on the ground, followed by the head that fell when Katherine pulled out her weapon.
“She was not yours to end.” Nikolai said, her voice whispery and dead.
“I know you wanted to have her yourself. But… I gave her a cleaner death…” Katherine said, looking at Nikolai’s flaming arm. “We have a lot to do. Let’s go.”
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Azazel was smoking a cigarette. He lay on the windowsill on the fifth hospital floor, staring out into the starry night sky. His leg was bandaged, as was his arm. It was annoying to have to spend some more time in the hospital but aside from that he was alright. His mind however, was fixated on what had happened at the auction. It had been five days now. How could he have let himself get almost killed by the same kids he was hunting? Not only that, he paid with his friend’s life.
That kid, she’s got the look. She wants me more than dead, no doubt about it. He talked to himself. You really fucked it now Azazel you idiot… Octavian’s dead, the auction was a mess, and Wrath hasn’t given a sign of life since… Merry fucking Christmas to me.
He let out a large puff of smoke, grabbed his crutches and went to a small drawer by his bed. There, he had stashed a small gray vial. He took it out, held it in his fist for a moment and put it back. He looked towards the door, his eyes deep in thought. Azazel was almost worried, his right leg bouncing up and down restlessly.
I can’t risk it anymore. Baphomet will be pissed, I need to leave before he comes to take care of the angel. I told Belial that he’s in charge if things go sour… but I haven’t dealt with Baal. Whatever, it will have to do. I guess, the time’s finally here. His thoughts raced as he looked back to the drawer.
Moments later, he was sitting on the floor. He took a deep breath and popped the cap off the small vial in his hand, setting the open bottle aside. He then bit hard on his wrist, chewing through it until he drew blood. He winced and leaned forward, letting it drip on the hospital tiles. Azazel carefully moved his finger in the blood, until he finished drawing his profane symbol. A mixture between a pentagram and what looked to be three parallel lines. He placed his bandaged arm in the center, and drank the strange flowing liquid. A bright red light exploded from the drawing, as something was funneled from his body and mind through it. Azazel’s green eyes turned a glowing black. He lurched back, crawling on the floor away from the still glowing symbol on the ground. His body convulsed and spastically twitched. He slammed the green button on the machine by his bed and a loud alarm rang through the hospital. The symbol had evaporated, the floor now clean as before. Foam began pouring out of his mouth, as he lay there, coughing his lungs out. The room was then silent, save for the blaring alarm.