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Between Heaven and Hell	By : Ambrosia Category: 1 through F > Constantine Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine, only these Original Characters. I make no money whatsoever from writing or publishing this story on this website (or any other for that matter).

Chapter List
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(A/N:this is only a bit of a teaser for the chapter, I'll call this part 1. Sorry the update took so long! No warnings needed for this chapter, sorry about the sudden darkness of that last one. Caught me by surprise! One small warning: this is draft 1 of the chapter. Needs polishing. Ratings and Reviews welcome!)
Chapter 3 pt 1
Months ago
The streets were wet with the rain which seemed to have stopped falling, finally. The cars passing by left a light spray from the concrete streets, the pungent and fresh scent stirred constantly into the air. The smell of rain-wet streets and cleaner was always refreshing at this time of year. Though it was often, being March, it was still welcome from the heat of the dry southern California summers. It was her favorite time of year.
The lights grew dim as she passed and Djoi took a moment to reign in her power. She laughed to herself and smiled. She was still getting used to it. The power-surge which happened after every time she’d indulged herself with Cambion.
A car honked at her and she started, looking into the bright lights of the oncoming car. She flicked her nails at it and walked quickly out of the street and back onto the sidewalk, making a left turn and going down the winding road.
Which was odd. Not many roads in L. A. wound like that. This was an older part of the city. It was updated, as they all were, with their iron bars and electric lights and slum-city construction. Graffiti lay in dark and bright sigils on the concrete walls and she glanced about, looking for something in particular when she spotted it. A red devil holding a wine glass at shoulder height on the wall opposite her on the street. She crossed the unused road nonchalantly and entered the door which the wineglass was tipped toward.
Inside was a purple heaven. The walls were a deep plum; ceiling was pale lavender which echoed the floors periwinkle. The lighting was ethereally violet and blue, done in swirling patterns of neon-lighting across the ceiling and edging the walls from behind panels which kept them hidden. The ambience was…odd. Tables sat within recessed alcoves and further ensconced by paper and wood screens. The bar was silent and though various people were sitting at the tables lining the walls outside of the alcoves and even more along the bar, not a sound could be heard.
“Jahi” said a deep gravelly voice to her left. She looked in the direction, startled. A hand appeared from behind a screen, beckoning to her and so she went. She slid into the alcove and found that she could suddenly hear the noises of other patrons. Sitting across form her was a man with a round face, wide smile and red-glinting eyes.
She gave him an answering smile, designed to disarm and beguile the sensibilities of mortal men and said brusquely to him, “I go by Djoi these days.”
“Hmm," the man said, “I do hear such things. But you see, to me, there are "these days" and "those days." And "those" days do hold such weight in my heart.”
She chuckled softly and replied in a joking tone, “You have one?” His answering smile and waving finger belied the warning in his eyes.
“If I do it is surely black as sin.” He folded his hands over the menu before him. “I have a job for you.”
“That’s why I’m here. Is it another married man you want brought over? Perhaps someone in the ecology field?”
“No, dearest,” he crooned, “I have something altogether more difficult for you. Something you may find worth your…time.”
At the word ‘time,’ her eyes left the menu in front of her and locked onto his, gazing at him steadily. His eyes bored into hers and he smiled wider, confident he had her attention.
“I’m listening,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.
"I know," he said with a sinister air.
An hour later Djoi walked down the misty streets, holding her leather jacket tight about herself to keep her hands from trembling. The streets in this part of the city were better traveled than the old districts she’d walked earlier that night. There were cars driving on by, people passing her on the sidewalk and the general dull hubbub of the inner city.
Her eyes were locked to the spire that rose above the surrounding rooftops. Before her was her salvation; the cross-crowned steeple of a church. A very specific church, where her mark was waiting. She lost sight of it for a moment while she turned a corner and instead found herself outside the gates.
The gates and doors stood open and she could hear music coming from inside. She hesitated. She was only half-demon, not full. She could go in. But she hadn’t set foot inside a church in ages. It was an unwelcome and sharp reminder. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself against her memories, she slipped inside.
The sanctuary was hardly full, but enough patrons sat at the front two rows that she hoped she would remain unnoticed at the back row near the door. The air inside was warm, surely welcoming to those outside. She ignored the holy water in the stand near the door and made her way to the pews. Quietly, she folded herself onto the end and leaned back, relieved to finally be seated. She looked around.
The warm air as helped along by the rows upon rows of candles lit along the walls and a larger number before a statue of the Virgin Mary. She idly thought of lighting one and praying for success in her newest mission but thought better of her foolishness. No prayers of hers would go answered here.
“Excuse me,” said a voice. She admired the tone, gentle and with a lilting quality but still somehow deep like a french-horn. Thinking this, she turned and looked into the face of an angel. A flicker in her eyes was the only surprise she’d shown as she sensed and saw with otherworldly eyes the holy light in his own and great wings at his back. “May I help you?” he continued.
She blinked, not needing to feign surprise, as she took in the shadow of two other sets of wings. He was a seraph, of the highest choir. She quickly noted his clothes didn’t appear to be priestly in nature, mere jeans and a button-up collared shirt. ‘What in the world am I doing here?’ she thought to herself. She focused as hard as she could to keep her own nature from becoming apparent and the candlelight subtly seemed brighter. ‘Of course that might just be me panicking.’
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, standing, “I shouldn’t be here,” she said truthfully, taking a few steps backwards but he held out his hand.
“Wait, please.” She paused mid-step. “Of course you are welcome here.”
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Between Heaven and Hell