Read Online Constantine by John Shirley, Kevin Brodbin - Free Book Online

seemed… he realized she was a cop of some kind. You didn’t need to be psychic to sense that, only streetwise. And he’d seen her before somewhere.
    The hospital, at the elevator.
    The vulnerability was there too - his feelers told him she was grieving. She’d lost someone recently. He suppressed the psychic contact, not wanting to intrude. Not unless it was needed.
    “I’m not staying long either,” she said.
    There was something else about her… the field around her was strong, and seemed to cast about, almost without her intending it.
    “I’ve got to talk to him,” she said. “It’s very important.”
    “First come, first served,” Constantine said. Mostly to see what her reaction would be.
    “So you’re rude, no matter where you are.”
    She looked at him for the first time, sizing him up, and he was uncomfortably aware that his clothes were overdue for washing, his chin for shaving, his teeth for brushing, and he probably smelled of liquor.
    He hoped he didn’t seem drunk. Why do you care what she thinks?
    It was odd. He usually didn’t care what people thought.
    Garret and the man with him shook hands - with just the faintest suggestion of a bow from Garret toward the other man. Acknowledging rank.
    The woman went straight to Garret; Constantine went to the other man: Gabriel, who was now standing facing the fireplace - with his wings spread. You had to look close to see them; they were usually invisible, in this world.
    The lady cop walked out with Garret, talking in low tones, as Gabriel sat in a large, high- backed wooden chair facing the fireplace; he sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward, and watched the flames with unblinking eyes.
    Constantine had the careful walk of a man not wanting to show he had been drinking. But of course Gabriel would know he was anyway.
    Telepathically, Gabriel said, Flame consuming wood. Time is fire, Constantine, for the mortals. Time consumes. Aloud he said, “I know what you want, son.” Gabriel’s voice was silky - not a pleasant silkiness, to Constantine. Gabriel always seemed snobbish. Maybe he had a right, being divine.
    “Still keeping your all-seeing eye on me, Gabriel? I’m flattered.”
    “I could offer how a shepherd leads even the most wayward of his flock, but to you it might sound disingenuous.”
    “So you’re going to make me beg?”
    “It wouldn’t help. You’ve already wasted your chance at redemption.” Gabriel smiled, though his eyes remained icy green, like frozen seawater. “You’re not going to the fair, John.”
    “What about the minions I’ve sent back? Sending minions to Hell saved innocent lives. That alone should guarantee my entry-”
    “Still trying to buy your way into Heaven, son? How many times must I tell you? It just won’t work.”
    Constantine shoved his fists in the pockets of his coat - to keep from using them. “Haven’t I served Him enough? What does He want from me?”
    “The usual. Self-sacrifice. Belief.”
    “I believe, for Christ’s sake!”
    Gabriel shook his head gently, looking at Constantine. Who shuddered - feeling Gabriel’s gaze on the soul within his flesh. “No. You know. There’s a difference. As I have told you again and again, entry into Heaven requires faith. Meaning belief without proof. You believe because you have seen.”
    “A technicality. I never asked to see. I was born with this curse.”
    “A gift, John! One which you have squandered on selfish endeavors.”
    Constantine suddenly felt the fatigue catch up with him. He wanted another drink, maybe an Irish coffee.
    “You’re better off without another drink, John.”
    “I’m pulling demons out of little girls. Who’s that for?”
    Gabriel smiled with exquisite condescension. “All you have ever done, you have done for yourself. To try to earn your way back into His good graces. Simple commerce. So don’t now come whimpering to me because you’re scared of going to Hell.”
    Constantine lit a cigarette, eyeing