26
W hat are you doing tonight? Constantine typed out the text and hit send.
For a moment, he debated whether to wait for a reply or chuck his phone across the room – something he should’ve done before composing the message.
The noises from his bed suggested that the woman – whose name eluded him – had grown impatient, pursuing her own satisfaction.
And here he was, standing with his back towards her, not remembering her face, yet staring at his phone like some lovesick fool.
He froze when the device chimed with an incoming message.
Training session, Diana had written. A second later, another message popped up: Wanna join?
No, he responded.
“Are you coming, baby?” the woman on the bed purred.
He delayed his next message by half a minute on purpose.
I’m asking you out, he wrote.
Her reply was, No, thank you.
For the first time, Constantine considered Diana might be that good at keeping her distance from him because her desires matched his. Maybe she’d prefer something more like the woman in his bed right now.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. A witch with dyed dark-red hair and thick eyeliner framing her almond-shaped eyes. Her clothes were in a chaotic pile on the bed, a red lace thong with a waistband of pearls on top of it.
Normally, he’d take great pleasure in pulling the lace off her, but tonight he’d missed the entire undressing part.
Normally, he’d let his eyes linger on her red-painted nails tracing slow circles around the tempting triangle between her thighs.
Normally…
But Constantine’s eyes were back on his phone.
Not a date, he wrote.
What, then? came Diana’s quick response.
I want to show you something.
What?
Constantine had held her hand when she mourned her brother, kept her secrets as if they were his own, and yet she still met his every word with suspicion. It was infuriating, to say the least.
I’ll take you to an arranged fight.
There was a pause for a couple of minutes before Diana replied. All right. Where?
I’ll take you.
Where, Constantine?
A sudden urge to throw his phone against the wall rose within him. Maybe he should just give up on trying to save her stubborn ass.
Outside of Sofia, he typed.
Send me an address and a time.
No. Wait for me in front of the gym, 9 p.m. He sent the message and tossed his phone on the nightstand.
His attention returned to the redhead masturbating on his bed. He crawled beside her, giving her his full attention. His phone chimed with several consecutive texts, but he made a conscious effort to ignore them.
***
At 9 p.m., Constantine was waiting in front of the gym. He hadn’t read Diana’s last texts, but if she planned to stand him up, he’d quit trying to talk her out of participating in that damn tournament.
Five minutes later, she appeared down the hallway in tight jeans, a black leather jacket, and platform sneakers that added some more inches to her already long legs. Straight hair framed her scowling face.
“Good evening, Diana.” Constantine gave a slight bow.
She wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t read my texts.”
“Sorry, I was busy.”
Diana’s gaze ran over the elegant cut of his dark grey pants, then moved up. Her attention lingered a moment on the open collar of his shirt and settled on the tousled hair falling over his forehead. “So busy you couldn’t read a few messages?”
He shrugged. “All afternoon, I was fucking a red-haired witch. She was so insatiable, she didn’t let me out of bed for a second.”
Diana’s frown deepened. “Must you be so descriptive?”
“You asked…”
She clutched her small leather bag and hissed, “Are we going somewhere or not?”
“After you, Diana.” Constantine gestured towards the lift, following her down the hall and enjoying the delicate floral scent she trailed behind. Had she put in more effort than usual tonight?
In the underground parking lot, he earned another hiss when he opened the car door for her, but in the end, he won over her reluctance to endure his chivalry.
While he drove, he stuck to safer topics. “Do you know the history of the mirror you’ll be fighting for?”
“Of course.” Diana stared out the window.
It was a warm March evening, and every star was visible in the night sky.
“The mirror was stolen from Hekate one night while she roamed the skies with her fire dogs and Hell demons. Her own guards – demons cursed to serve her – stole it. They used it to break free of her control and then threw it into the Pacific Ocean because they couldn’t take it with them to the Beyond.
No one knows how it ended up with Al-Hatib. ”
“You know your history. Good.” Constantine tapped the steering wheel. “Can you imagine how powerful Hekate was? Her demons were literally dragged from Hell and forced to serve her. I’ve seen demons, and believe me, they aren’t harmless, nor are they easy to enslave.”
Diana faced him. “You’ve seen real demons?”
“Believe it or not.”
“You’ve been to Hell?”
“Once.”
The silence that followed stretched on too long, a clear sign she had no desire to continue the conversation. No desire for anything.
Was that what drew him to Diana, despite how different she was from everything he was used to? Because she didn’t want a damn thing from him?
Constantine was a consumer, but he’d also been consumed by others his whole life.
His inability to connect with Diana on any level was driving him mad.
He rarely had to work to charm women – most were ready for him before he even introduced himself, and sometimes he never even got to say his name.
But he’d met Diana months ago, and she still didn’t seem the least bit impressed by him.
Not that he was doing anything to impress her… So why was her indifference making him grip the steering wheel tighter than usual?
“What will you see in the mirror when you look at it, Diana?” he asked.
She shifted in her seat, filling the car with that floral scent again. Constantine yearned to run his fingers through her hair.
“You do realise you can’t see your reflection in Hekate’s mirror, right? All you see is magic. At least, that’s what they say. I’ve never seen it, of course.”
“Me, neither. Still, I’m curious. What magic are you fighting against? What magic do you imagine you’ll see?”
“The mirror isn’t for me.”
Taking his eyes off the road, Constantine glanced over at her. “Who is it for?”
She crossed her legs and leaned her forehead against the window, clearly signalling she didn’t want to discuss it.
Yes, she’s definitely not into me … Alas, that thought didn’t dampen his desire to reach out to her. The only thing separating them was the centre console. What would she do if he touched her? Break his fingers one by one?
And if he managed to pierce through her defences, what would be left when her secrets were laid bare and her clothes were a mess on the floor?
Probably nothing, he thought with bitterness. Nothing, like every other time.
Maybe it was best she kept him at a distance.
“What would you see in the mirror, Constantine?”
Her question caught him off guard. What would he see, indeed, now that Mada’s dark magic had corrupted his soul?
“I mean an ordinary mirror,” Diana added.
Constantine arched an eyebrow at her unexpected interest in him. He could weave stories about his childhood as a necromancer, his time in Hell and other worlds, and his exploits on Earth. But not about himself in the present time.
Because… what would he see in the mirror?
A consumer of souls?
Of bodies?
A crippled necromancer?
A bored man.
“I’d see my face, Diana. Nothing more, nothing less.”
***
The deserted warehouses in Vladaya village had several cars parked in front of them.
Constantine and Diana sidestepped a pile of syringes and empty bottles, making their way into the vast storehouse.
The stench of rot and urine hung so heavily in the air it could raise a mummy.
Cold draughts gusted through the shattered windows, and a dim light seeped in from a slit far ahead.
Following the light, they entered a wide hall. In the middle was a square metal cage with bars reaching up to the ceiling. Its door was suspended on its hinges, with a massive padlock swinging from the latch. Dried blood covered the floor inside and around the cage.
A crowd had gathered along the walls. Diana took a spot in a corner, scanning the creatures who’d come in search of blood and were placing their bets.
Constantine knew that despite her relaxed stance, she was absorbing every detail.
She was a predator, and perhaps he’d underestimated her.
Maybe she did belong in the Al-Hatib Tournament, after all.
Keeping one eye on her, he let his own surveillance instincts kick in. The tension in the room was building to a fever pitch, excitement sparking through the crowd. Snatches of conversation floated around, commenting on the abilities of the fighters about to enter the cage.
Meanwhile, Constantine and Diana barely exchanged a word. When a gold-covered vampire stopped in front of them to collect bets, Constantine put a thousand on Swan.
“Who’s Swan?” Diana asked.
“Someone who can make the Devil beg for mercy,” Constantine said.
Diana absorbed that information with a thoughtful purse of her lips. “And the other one?”
“No idea. But I doubt he’ll last long enough for me to remember his name.”
The hall exploded with cheers and whistles when the referee – a blonde in a crop top and shorts – walked into the cage.
She delivered her well-known opening speech, accepted the usual dirty offers from the crowd, and proceeded to introduce the fighters.
“They call him the Black Dream because his opponents dream of his trademark move for all eternity – the notorious wolf’s kiss! ”
Diana tilted her chin to get a better view.
“He’s come all the way from Greece to show us why his enemies tremble at the sight of him. Welcome the Black Dream – Balthazar!”