48
Nighttime was Constantine’s favourite time of day. With its arrival, the true nature of creatures emerged – their raw desires and needs. Most believed that in the dark, everything remained hidden. Quite the opposite. In the dark, everything was revealed.
Unfortunately, towards the end of the night, when vices had been somewhat satisfied, the ugly reality resurfaced: weakened bodies, smudged faces, lonely souls.
Then came the moment of realisation – that indulging in vices doesn’t bring happiness.
Only temporary pleasure. And after the pleasure fades, the absence of happiness stings deeper.
In his car, parked outside The Seven Horses, Constantine understood these souls well.
Creatures or humans, they were all the same – predisposed to the na?ve pursuit of happiness and the masochistic multiplication of misery.
In his experience, however, nothing could heal the soul.
Souls were not made to be healed. Not while everyone lived within the confines of the material trap known as Earth.
A brunette in a short red dress exited the club and got into the back seat of a taxi.
A material trap, indeed, but some manifestations aren’t so bad…
Constantine suppressed the urge to get out of his car and join her.
It would play out like every other time – automatic and monotonous, with a fleeting effect.
Yes, the difference between Constantine and those who indulged in their vices wasn’t great.
The only thing that set him apart was his clear understanding that no matter what he did, he would never reach the nirvana he sought.
The taxi left without him, but the need for release would remain. Just as Mada stayed, buried somewhere inside him, blocking everything that made him feel alive.
And just as his sense of loss persisted, because… Sweet, secretive Diana. A granite exterior, a heart of courage. Constantine was glad she was far away from him. Sure, she stirred something in him, but how long would that last before he got bored with her? How long before he broke her heart?
He pushed Diana out of his thoughts and dialled the Righteous’ number. “Mikhail won’t come. He’s been held up.”
A brief silence ensued. Then the Righteous growled, “You’re out of luck. Don’t set foot here again.”
Constantine leaned back against the leather seat. The worst part of Mada’s curse wasn’t the theft of his abilities, but the doubt it sowed in his judgement. Before, he would never have doubted his intuition. Now…
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
A few moments later, the Righteous walked out of The Seven Horses, flanked by his thick-headed bodyguards. He was escorting a tall, dark-haired woman.
Constantine stared at her, unblinking. He had expected something , but not this.
The woman under the Righteous’ fucking baby arm was the one from the recordings – who had slipped the mysterious journal to Alex Volk.
It was the first time he was getting a clear view of her face, but he recognised her lean figure and the predatory languidness of her gait.
She had long, dark chestnut hair falling straight along her shoulders.
A satin black tank top with silver straps, tight jeans, and elegant high-heeled sandals complimented her curves way better than her previous ‘librarian’ outfit.
The Righteous lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a brief kiss, and released her.
A limousine stopped next to them. The driver stepped out and opened the back door.
The woman was the first to climb in. Just before entering, she turned her head towards the side street – and Constantine’s SUV.
She stilled for a moment, staring, then slipped into the limousine, followed by the Righteous.
Constantine had been holding his breath. No way she could have seen him. Yet he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling of being seen.
The Righteous’ limousine moved leisurely through the narrow streets, allowing Constantine to follow at a safe distance.
After a few turns, they reached a major boulevard.
Night traffic was lighter, but still active enough for Constantine to trail behind the limousine without drawing attention.
He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling something was very off.
They reached the roundabout on the northern bypass and veered onto the narrow road leading to the abandoned airport at Bozhurishte. Constantine’s curiosity spiked. He pulled over, switched off his headlights, waited thirty seconds, and then resumed his pursuit.
A minute later, the limousine’s taillights signalled a sharp left turn, coming to a stop at the lowered barrier of the airport. The overgrown fences confirmed the place had been deserted for a long time. So why were the Righteous and his companion heading straight in?
Constantine drove past the barrier and parked a few feet further down the road.
A man in a black uniform emerged from the guard booth next to the barrier and waited by the limousine. He flashed a light inside the car, then returned to the booth, raising the barrier. The vehicle drove into the airfield, and the gate closed behind it.
Constantine knew, at the back of his mind, that he should be calling for backup.
But he didn’t have time to wait, not when something was clearly going on.
The Righteous’ betrayal didn’t surprise him, nor did the woman’s presence.
He’d suspected she was involved with the reptilians – perhaps she was a reptilian herself.
But now, having seen her alongside the Righteous, the urge to investigate further overwhelmed him.
He retrieved his gun from the glove box and slipped it under his belt.
Leaving the car, Constantine approached the low fence around the airport and vaulted over it with ease.
A dense thicket of bushes awaited him. Given the place’s abandoned state, he didn’t expect more guards, but still moved with caution.
Soon, the bushes thinned, revealing the limousine parked in the middle of an empty field.
The Righteous and the woman were out of the car now, conversing in hushed tones. It looked like a secret meeting, but if it was one, why had they left The Seven Horses together?
Mada’s voice echoed in his mind. It’s a trap, necromancer.
Constantine clenched his fists at his sides. Of course, it was a trap. The sudden appearance of the reptilian in the Righteous’ back room. His insistence on meeting with Mikhail. If Mikhail had gone to that meeting, he would never have made it out alive.
A rustling in the bushes made Constantine whip around. He caught a man’s frame silhouetted in the dark. Before he could react, something heavy descended on him, wrapping around and tightening.
A net of thick ropes.
He grabbed one of the ropes and pulled, but it refused to tear.
“Don’t waste your strength, necromancer. This is the strongest net in the world,” said a male voice.
Constantine attempted to grasp his gun, but the net constricted him further, blocking his arms. The ropes glued his legs together and forced him off balance. When he stumbled to the ground, his body tangled in the ropes, the man knelt beside him.
Constantine stopped struggling to survey him. He had dark hair, an expensive suit, and, judging by the air reeking of the same scent from the nightclub, he was also a reptilian.
With a smirk, the man seized the rope and dragged Constantine across the field, to where the Righteous and the woman waited.
“You’re not as clever as you think,” Babyhand said with a smug smile. “You thought this was a trap for Korovin, didn’t you, my friend? And it never occurred to you that the target was you?”
Constantine didn’t respond. The other man loosened the net, while the woman studied Constantine with an indifferent expression.
“Stand up,” she commanded, once the rope, along with his gun, had been neutralised. Constantine had met enough women in his lifetime to understand she was used to giving orders. And expected to be obeyed.
He remained on the ground.
“You hear that?” the man asked, but he wasn’t referring to her words. The click of a gun’s safety being released filled the air, and he aimed the barrel at Constantine.
He got to his feet.
“Not so brave after all, are you?” the Righteous taunted.
“Move.” The man jabbed the gun into Constantine’s back.
The necromancer turned his head to get a closer look at the man’s face. He had sharp features, high cheekbones, and black eyes.
“Where to?” Constantine asked.
“Straight ahead.”
There was nothing ahead.
The woman took out her phone and called someone. “We’re leaving!”
The sound of an approaching vehicle broke the tense silence, moments before the rough grille of a massive BMW SUV sliced through the night. The headlights illuminated the profile of the reptilian woman as she circled to open the back door. “Get in!”
Constantine tilted his head to the Righteous. “Aren’t you coming along, friend ?”
Babyhand chuckled. “You still don’t get it, do you, asshole? You’re done! D-O-N-E. You’re disappearing from this world for good. And there won’t be a single witness to tell your lover Korovin what happened to you. Don’t worry about him, though. He won’t suffer for long. He won’t get the chance.”
Constantine smiled and moved forward, the man following close behind.
“You’re free to go,” the woman said to the Righteous.
He bowed. “Always at your service, lovely Kathrine.”
Kathrine. Constantine would remember that name. Ducking his head to enter the back of the SUV, the driver – a small woman in dark sunglasses sized him up. In the passenger seat, a burly man was reloading his weapon.
The driver whistled. “So, the rumours about the necromancer are true, after all.”
“What rumours, dove?” he asked with a bitter smile.
“No talking!” Kathrine climbed in through the other rear door, settling on his right. The scent of ocean waves filled the space.
Then, the reptilian man, holding the rope, took a seat on Constantine’s left. He kept his gun trained on him. “Time to go. And don’t even think of causing any trouble, necromancer.”
“Three hours and forty minutes to the crossing,” the driver announced.
“Where are we going?” Constantine asked.
The man beside him grinned wide, and the muzzle of the gun dug into his temple. “To the realm of the victors, necromancer.”