SBAT Chapter 4

It’s that simple. Dropping Zatanna’s name and giving him a pack of cigarettes is enough to get John Constantine to grab his suitcase and walk away from the people that he’d been living with, including a woman who doesn’t look too happy about it.

Three hours later, they’re on a private jet. Constantine emerges from the restroom dressed in a shirt and tie which desperately need a wash and a press. He drops into the seat across from Steph, lights a cigarette, and starts on his fourth pint.

“Right,” he says, tapping the face of his watch, which has stopped. “You think somebody worked with someone downstairs to get the old git off the chessboard, yeah?”

“Um, yes?”

“S’pose it could be done,” Constantine muses, glancing out the window.

“Does that narrow things down for who could’ve done it?” Steph asks hopefully.

“Anyone can deal with the devil, luv. Even you.”

“I can?”

“Can. Question is, would you want to?”

“The devil? The literal devil?” Steph asks nervously.

“Could be,” Constantine replies absently. “More likely some other twat wants to make a name for himself. Course, if someone’d got the Bat, word would’ve been round by now. So there’s that. No news is good news and all that.”

“What does it mean?”

“Fuck if I know.” He yawns.

“Why the sulfur?”

“What?”

“Demons. Devils. Sulfur. What’s up with that?”

“S’in the bible, ennit?” he says around the cigarette. “Or Dante or something. Don’t fret, luv. We’ll get it sorted.”

SBAT

It’s not Constantine’s first time in Gotham. He reacts to the sight of the building with the missing sulfur the same way that he reacted to the jet, Alfred, and everything else: by lighting a cigarette. He slips his lighter back into the pocket of his grubby trench coat.

“After you,” he says, gesturing with his cigarette.

Steph leads him to the basement. Constantine walks out into the center of the space and puffs for a few moments.

“Bollocks,” he says finally.

“What’s wrong? Is there like a lot of demonic activity?” Steph asks fearfully, shining her light into the dark corners. The plane ride gave her time to think about this stuff, and it’s actually kind of scary. She feels like she’s starting to understand why Zatanna was in such a hurry to get away. Constantine is obviously her ex, but there’s more than that. Zatanna wants no part of this. She must have a good reason.

“None,” Constantine replies.

“Oh.” Steph takes that in. There’s relief, but… “So, I was wrong. This isn’t it.”

“Oh, no. You’re right,” he says with a scowl. “No spirits. No psychic imprint. Nothing,” he adds, making a slashing gesture with his cigarette as he starts for the door. “No ghosts or ghoulies. It isn’t natural. Someone’s cleaned the place out.”

Steph hurries after him. “Who could do that?”

“To bleach it this way?” He pauses and looks back, and it’s the first time Steph has seen him look serious. “A proper heavyweight, I expect.”

“Aw, man. That’s not good, is it?” Steph frets as they emerge into the night air. “What do we do?”

Constantine finishes his cigarette and throws it down, putting it out with his heel. He looks down at the dirty stuffed bear among the litter in the gutter. “What’s anyone do when he wants to find something out? Gossip.” He picks up the bear and goes back into the building. Constantine uses a piece of chalk to draw a circle in the basement, then tosses the bear into the middle. “Can’t be arsed to do candles anymore,” he says to Steph as he lights another cigarette.

“Oh,” Steph says, hoping that Zatanna is right about this guy.

“Don’t break the circle,” he warns.

“OK.”

“Right. Come on out, then.” Constantine gestures impatiently.

Steph blinks and the bear is suddenly sitting up. There’s a weird, queasy feeling in the air. Steph is instantly creeped out. She edges backward.

“John Constantine. You look like shit,” a voice says. It’s deep and guttural.

“Cheers. Where is he? You know the bloke. Pointy ears, big cape. Wears his knickers on the outside.”

“You haven’t offered me anything.”

Steph watches Constantine’s face as the bear says that. For a moment, he looks pleased. Then his game face is back on.

“Right. How’d you get him? Make him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

The bear sounds annoyed. “Who would even be interested?”

“Oh, and who tidied all this?” John gestures with his cigarette to indicate the room. “Didn’t bloody consecrate it, did they? Magic. Got to be. Whodunnit, eh?”

“You’re all equally tedious.”

“Thanks, old son. You’ve been very helpful. Go on and piss off,” Constantine says with a wave of his cigarette.

The bear flops over.

“That was creepy,” Steph says with a shudder. “But it wasn’t helpful.”

“Course it was. He says that old Batty’s rotting in hell, a mortal helped send him, and they used magic to do it.” Constantine begins to shuffle toward the door. “And it’s not official-like, of course.”

“What?” Steph is so lost.

“Can’t just drag someone to hell, can you? He’s got to deserve it or to at least sign it away. He’s in hell, right enough, but he don’t belong there. Officially.”

“Are you even speaking English? Is that good or bad?”

Constantine steps out of the building and into the light from the streetlamp. He makes a face. “Depends on how you look at it. Bad that he’s there unless you aren’t fond of him. Good that it isn’t official. If you get him out, they can’t come after you.”

“How do we get him out?”

Constantine coughs, startled. He clears his throat. “We?”

“Yeah. How do you get someone out of hell?”

He stares at her. “Carefully?” he suggests.

“You’ll help me, right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it can be done?”

Constantine looks suspicious. “You aren’t afraid, luv?”

“Of course I am. But he’d show up if it was me,” Steph says with a shrug.

Constantine gazes at her as though waiting for a punchline. Steph just smiles up at him hopefully, although her mask hides it. Constantine turns away, burning down his cigarette with one drag. “Fuck me,” he mutters, flicking it away. “Would be a laugh, wouldn’t? Old Bats owing me a big one?” He chuckles to himself. “Sod it. Why not?”

Selina lands between them in perfect silence, wearing her costume.

“Blimey,” Constantine says, his eyes locked squarely on her chest.

“Why not what?” Selina asks. She glowers at Steph. “And where have you been?”