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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: Sorry this isn't nearly as sexually stimulating as anything else I've written so far, but enjoy anyway and see you next chapter for some sexier stuff. Feel free to review, I enjoy constructive criticism! I know this isn't one of my better chapters but it's 1:30am and I needed sleep. But I couldn't help writing more. Again, enjoy!
The Depths of Hell: In the Present, draft 1
Anthriel walked to the bar, entering the low doorway and down the steps. The light was red, as it was throughout the interior. At the bottom of the stairs, a burly man held up a single card, glancing at it. He smiled to himself.
“Two snakes intertwined,” he casually said. The bouncer gave a brief nod and let him pass into the interior.
Ignoring the glares he received from the many red-eyed attendants, he made his way to the usual table across from the bar. He paused when he spotted it, expecting a dark vision, but none sat there waiting for him.
‘Odd,’ he though to himself, ‘She’s usually here before I am.’ He swerved to the bar to order a couple drinks. “Bourbon on the rocks and a dirty martini, please.” The man – and surprisingly, he was a man – nodded.
‘I’ll put it on your tab, Tony.”
“Thank you. Have you seen Joy?” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Thanks.” He took the drinks to their table and sat down, sipping the bourbon.
An hour later, a lump had formed in his stomach and was tugging at his navel. The bournon was gone and he was contemplating asking after her. But who did he ask? His people wouldn’t have seen her and hers? He’d be lucky if one of them gave any kind of straight answer at all. Asking about her would only invite ridicule and worse.
He fiddled with the swizzle straw in the empty glass. Someone pulled back the chair in front of him and he looked up, hoping to see her. His brows drew together when he saw another woman instead. She wore dark clothes and her auburn hair was piled atop of her head. She wore no jewelry and her makeup, if she wore any, was subtle. It didn’t stop her from being beautiful. She regarded him with sympathetic eyes and reached out to touch the base of the martini glass.
Before he could voice a protest, she spoke, gasing at the alchohol. “I know, this isn’t for me. I have a message.” He sat straighter in his chair. “It isn’t from Jodie.” His face fell back into an expression of annoyance. She looked up at his face and continued, “I am –
“I know who you are,” he said. She pursed her lips and nodded.
“What is the message, Itkael?”
“I know where she is.”
The beeping of the heart monitor seemed t echo throughout the room. It was dark, giving Anthriel the desire to light a candle, but knew it wouldn’t be allowed in a conventional hospital. It was blessedly a private room with pale blue walls and a tile floor. It was cold. But there was a blanket on the bed.
The woman laying on it was barely recognizable. There were bruises, purple and a deep ugly red, swelling the eyes nearly shut. They were extensive, covering over half of her face. Moving closer, he noted the shape of the bruising around her throat and further down, disappearing beneath the blanket, which he dared not remove. Her arm was fitted with an IV drip, resting at her side. Her dark hair was tangled and faintly smelled of bitter smoke and rotten eggs. He felt sick, seeing her.
It was his Joy.
“How?” his voice cracked on the word. Itkael stood behind him, silently lending her support.
“She was dumped outside of a free clinic and transferred here not long after. The paramedics said she regained consciousness in transit but hasn’t since she was checked in. I asked one of ours, Assiel – he works here – about her condition. It’s not good, Anthriel. She claimed she was mugged. She isn’t pressing charges.”
The lights flickered on and off, static crackling thick through the air as Anthriel’s fists clenched at his sides. He turned his head in Itkael’s direction and asked, “You’re holding something back. What is it?”
Itkael’s eyes were sympathetic, but he didn’t see them, so focused was he on Jodie. “I’m sorry, Anthriel,” she said as shadows seemed to grow in the room, “There are signs she was raped.”
At the words the lights abruptly stopped flickering. But they shone brighter than before, as though lit with white-hot fire. A drop of blood fell from Anthriel’s fist to the white floor.
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Between Heaven and Hell