Rod M.
                    presents

          a sequel to Dire Fates...

                     -*-

             - The Faith Machine -

        A John Constantine: Hellblazer
                Oh My Goddess
                  crossover

                   Part 2
             Obumbrata et Velata

                     -*-

"Some authorities, moreover, declare that Skuld, the third
Norn, was at times a Valkyr, and at others personated the
party-colored goddess of death, the terrible Hel."

   from _Myths of Northern Lands_
      by H.A. Guerber

"... rather are they akin to the creatures who carry a
trough and ride on a wolf, sit in a house drenched with
blood, wave blood-stained cloths over those about to fight,
or sprinkle blood over a district..."

   A description of the Valkyries, from _The Road to Hel_
     by Hilda Roderick Ellis

                     -*-

In urgent whispers they spoke to her, worshiping her,
adoring her.  She was their goddess, they were her
worshippers, and together theirs was a mighty and powerful
bond.

She traveled the earth, speeding across the miles like a
breeze, hearing their voices become louder as she
approached.

As she came nearer, she began to hear of other thoughts in
their minds, a rigid set of beliefs to be imposed on HER.

She was the Future, wild and unpredictable, the very spirit
of chaos and conflict.  To assume such things upon her was a
grave insult.

And yet, something was strange, beyond that.  Something
unknown.

The goddess smiled.

She liked the unknown.

                     -*-

Hundreds they were, the limbless, blind, voiceless,
hairless, nearly mindless creatures that were once human,
connected as one by an intricate web of wires.  The
tentacle-like mass passed through their bodies, through
their skulls, in and out of their empty eye-sockets.

They writhed, but were held in place by iron manacles over
their necks and bodies.  They groaned, though with their
vocal chords torn out of their throats, the sound was
nothing more than a hollow wheeze.

Cogs and wheels in the Faith Machine.

Far above the massive room that held them, a small group of
men watched.  They peered out of a darkened room, their eyes
seemingly shining white in the darkness.  The tingle of
energy was in the air, making their hairs nearly stand on
end.

They could feel it in the air.

The power.

"Bradford, status update?"

"Readings are climing, sir.  If she's not here already,
she's bloody close."

"Good ma-"

Suddenly, the entire room trembled and rocked.  Sparks flew
from the various control panels, and a moment later the
entire room was swallowed in darkness, except for the dim
row of emergency lights lining the room of human machinery
below.

"Bloody hell, an earthquake?"

"Power's out, sir!  Backup generators should be on in a
minute!"

"Get it back up!  If the grid's down and she-"

"Sir!  She's here!"

"Oh... fuck."

Directly below them, hovering at the center of the room, was
the Goddess.  Flowing robes of red and white waved in the
air on unseen and silent breezes, as did her long black
hair.  Her eyes shone a brilliant azure, looking down upon
the writhing parts of the Faith Machine below.

"My children," she said.  It was a whisper, yet echoed
through the room, and was heard by everyone.  Her voice was
etherial, gentle, loving, and yet with a menacing edge to
it.

High above, in their control booth, the gathering of Caecus
Magi were nearly at a panic.

"She is _here_ and we have _no_ controls," one of them said.
"The situation is extremely _dire_.  What's happening down
there?"

"Sir!  Vital signs are down!  We're losing parts!"

"Right then.  Get the artifact."

"But-"

"Better this than a rampaging Goddes.  Get it NOW!"

One of them turned to leave, opening the door to a walkway
stretching across the dome's roof.  He took two steps
forward, then three quick steps back.

"Get moving, Peterson!" one of them barked.

"S-sir, th-there's someting on the walkway!"

"What are you-"

>From the darkness beyond the doorway, something growled.  A
pair of red eyes glowed in the darkness.

The goddess turned, slowly, towards the control room,
malicious intent in her eyes and a cruel smile on her lips.

"Little men," she said to them.  "Oh, little men, you sought
to chain me with these souls.  But there is one thing you
failed to see."

The thing with glowing red eyes took a step forward.  A
shadowy hint of a massive bulk could be seen in the shadows,
with writhing and clicking parts.

"Faith is more than knowledge," said Skuld.  "Faith is more
than belief.  Faith is also desire, and more than anything
else, my children desired to be liberated from their bonds,
to be with me."

She raised her arms, and sparks began to shower along the
hundreds of wires lining the pit.  The things that were once
human screamed and moaned in a chorus.  From each of them, a
tiny sphere of light began to shine.  The bodies slumped
lifelessly down as the lights left them, and slowly began to
orbit the goddess.

>From within the control room, panic and fear spread like
wildfire.  One of them pulled out a revolver.

"Don't, you fool!" someone shouted.  "You'll just make her
ma-"

*BLAM*

Skuld raised an eyebrow, amused.  The flattened metal that
was once a bullet dropped from her hand.  With a glint in
her eyes, she turned towards the creature in the dark.

"Guardian," said the Goddess softly.  "Kill."

                     -*-

Trouble.

It's been said that John Constantine wasn't happy unless he
was in the middle of it, which had some degree of truth to
it.  To say that he wasn't happy unless he was mad was a bit
of an overstatement.

He wasn't _comfortable_ unless he was mad about something,
and right now he was in the act of trying to get
comfortable.

On a bench by the Thames he sat, next to another suspicious
individual in a trenchcoat.  This other gentleman was older,
thicker, with thinning black hair and a mean but tired look
about him.

"How's the day, Ozzie?"

"Full'a dead people, Constantine, like always."

"Right.  So... what'd you want to talk to me for?"

Ozzie lit a cigarette, then passed the lighter to John.
-"Strange shite this week, not y'typical stuff, and I was
hoping you'd be able to take a look and tell me what I'm
staring at."

"Dead bodies, I'm guessing?" quipped John.

"Thank you, smartarse," mumbled Ozzie.  "In this case, it's
about 250 dead bodies.  A dozen of'em were torn up like they
was run through a shredder.  The rest of them, though, I
just don't know."

John shrugged.  "A sacrificial rite, maybe."

"Bollocks if I know," said Ozzie.  "Just take a look, will
you?"

John smoked the last of his cigarette, then tossed it away.
"You know you already owe me," he reminded him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Fine."

                     -*-

["Urd?"]

The eldest goddess groaned, feeling something a bit worse
than a hangover stinging her.

["Ow... wha'happen..."]

As she slowly opened her eyes, Keiichi's concerned face came
into focus.

["How are you feeling?"] he asked.

["Like roadkill."]

Her mind was sifting through recent events, trying to figure
out why she was, literally, floored.

Oh yeah.

Skuld.

["Oh shit!  Where's Skuld?  Where's Bell?"]

She sat up suddenly, then sat down suddenly as aches and
pains reminded her that she'd just gotten flattened by her
youngest sister.

["Skuld was gone when we found you,"] said Keiichi.  ["And
Belldandy went to check on the Yggdrasil.  What happened?"]

Urd grimaced and put a hand over her eyes.  ["Skuld
remembers."]

["Remembers?"]

["Yep."]

["Um...?"]

Urd sighed.  ["Oh yeah, that's right, you're not really
familiar with the kid's history, are you..."]

Keiichi smiled apologetically.  ["Sorry, no."]

["If you did, you wouldn't be smiling."]

["Did... did something bad happen to her before?"]

["Not exactly,"] said Urd.  She thought a moment, then
turned to Keiichi, asking, ["Hey, haven't you wondered why
Bell's your age, even though she's hundreds of years older
than you?"]

Keiichi blinked.  ["Actually, I never did..."]

["Y'see, every couple of years we get reborn, kinda like a
phoenix.  We get new looks, new assignments, but a fair
amount of what was essentially us always carried over."] Her
face turned grim as she continued, ["Skuld... she was very
bad in some her past lives... evil in a lot of them."]

["How evil?"]

["Ever seen Army of Darkness?"]

["That bad?"]

["Maybe worse."]

["Oh boy."]

["Now you get it,"] said Urd.  ["I dunno how or why, but...
it seems like Skuld's turned into... I dunno... _everything_
she was before.  That's _really_ bad."]

As the two dwelled on things, the phone rang.  Keiichi
answered, ["Hello?  Oh, Bell-chan, Urd's awake.  You want to
talk to her?  Okay."]

Keiichi looked worried as he handed the phone over.  ["She
sounds worried,"] he said.

["Hey, sis?  Yeah, I'm okay, just a little shaken, that's
all.  What're you doing over there?"]

She listened, blinked, then blinked again.

["The Yggdrasil is WHAT?!"]

                     -*-

The police car drove up to a building surrounded by a high
concrete wall, topped with ornate but deadly spikes.

"How friendly," remarked John.

As they passed through the gates, a symbol enscribed into
the inner walls caught John's eye.

"Caecus Magi," said John.

"Wossat?"

"These symbols," he pointed out, "the ones on the walls,
they're from the Caecus Magi.  I had a bad run-in with them,
a long time ago.  This their building, then?"

Ozzie shrugged.  "Brass won't tell us anything.  Orders are
to keep it nice and quiet.  You won't see the press talking
about it either."

"Keeping that tight a lid on it, then."  John paused a
moment, shaking his head.  "Ozzie, when'd you get this
call?"

"Early this morning," said Ozzie.  "Captain told me to take
a few lads and look."

John tsked.  "I wouldn't worry about this case if I were
you.  You'll be called off of it in a few anyway, told to
forget it."

Ozzie frowned.  "Oh, one of _those_, issit?"

"Yep."

"Shite."  Ozzie paused a moment, then shrugged.  "Humor me
anyway, I'm fuckin' curious."

As they entered the building, they found themselves in a
very ornate, rich lobby.  Mounted animal heads hung upon the
walls, staring blankly at nowhere in particular.  Large,
cushioned couches and reading chairs were scattered about
tastefully.

"Nice," muttered John.

"The missus always wanted a chair like this," said Ozzie.

John shrugged.  "So take it."

"Suppose I will."

They walked on, into a cold marble corridor.  At the middle,
Ozzie stopped and pulled aside some curtains.  A large iron
doorway was revealed, hanging open into the dark unknown.

"You first," said John.

They walked down the narrow passage, their footsteps echoing
a bit louder than John liked.

"A bit further," said Ozzie.

John could tell.  The stench of dead bodies was beginning to
grow.

At the end of the stairs, they found themselves at the start
of a long and narrow metal walkway, hanging far above a dark
pit.  Lit only by the light Ozzie was carrying, John could
barely make out hundreds of shapes below.

The smell of death was strong now, enough to make lesser men
vomit.

"A bit further ahead," said Ozzie, "we can switch on the
main lights."

They walked even further, to a circular room attached to the
ceiling of the cavern.  The smell got worse.  John stepped
on something stringy and damp.

"Watch your step," said Ozzie.  "Floor's slippery."

A moment later, dozens of fluorescent lights sputtered to
life, lighting the cavern in harsh white light, revealing
the endless piles of bodies everywhere.

John looked down on the floor at what he stepped on.

"I looked like that once," he said absently.

"What's that?"

"Nothing.  You're right, it does look like someone put'em
through a meat-grinder."

"That?  That's normal," said Ozzie.  "Take a look down
below."

John raised an eyebrow and gave Ozzie a questioning look,
then stepped back out to the walkway and peered down below.
Hundreds of emaciated bodies, hairless, limbless, and
sub-human in appearance, greeted his sight.

"Jesus, what's this?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," said Ozzie.

"S'definitely a ritual," said John.  "Probably summoning
something... something big.  No survivors, then?"

"They're all dead.  Dunno why, though."

"Hm?"

"They may be mangled-looking sods, but they're in perfect
health... as perfect as you can get when your eyes, limbs,
and tongue are surgically removed, anyway.  Took one down
for autopsy, and the boys haven't a clue why he died.  None
of them are wounded, no bruises, no stab wounds, no signs
of electric shock or-"

John blew smoke in his face.  "I get the idea, Ozzie."

"Sorry, get carried away with me work sometimes."

The sudden burst of ringing from Ozzie's phone nearly gave
the officer a heart attack.  John gave him an irrtated glare
as he pulled the phone out.  He answered, listened, gave a
few 'yes sir's, and hung up.

"So, was I right?" asked John.

"You were right."

"Mind if I look around a bit more?" asked John.  "The Caecus
Magi sometimes leaves the niftiest things about."

"Go ahead.  I'll be upstairs."

"Leaving?" asked John.

"Nah.  I think I saw a chair and desk that'd look good in my
flat."

                     -*-

Urd saw it, but she couldn't believe it.

The Yggdrasil computer system, in its current incarnation,
always did have a somewhat organic touch to its design.  It
was, after all, 'The World Tree'.

But it _really_ wasn't a tree, not lately anyway.

The thing that sat before Urd's eyes was a chaotic meltdown
of tree and computer, branches and wires entangled, monitors
half-submerged underneath bark, keyboards sprouting from
branches, with leaves intermingled withi keys.

Urd stared at the Yggdrasil for a while, stunned
beyond words.  At last, she remembered what she was
here for.

"Um... Bell?"

"Over here!"

She looked around, failing to see Belldandy was.

"Sis?  I can't see ya!"

"Under you!"

She blinked, looked around, then noticed one of the floor
panels was lifted.  Urd stuck her head under and looked
around.  "Hey, Bell, ya down here?"

"Over here, Urd!"

"What'cha doing?"

Far in the corner, looking disshelved and distressed,
Beldandy waved to her.  "There seems to be... oh my... a
little dragon chewing on some of the cables.  He seems...
familiar, somehow."

Urd frowned.  "A little dragon, y'say?  Um... see if
calling it 'Nidhug' helps?"

"Nidhug?"

Urd heard a tiny 'meep', and a moment later Belldandy held
the little dragon in her hands.  "She's stopped!"

"For now, anyway," grumbled Urd.

"For now?"

"Well, Nidhug here is usually the size of a mountain, and if
things around here keep changing..."

"Oh my."

Urd sighed.  "How bad is it?  Can we do anything about
Skuld?"

"It's hard to say," Belldandy replied.  "There's so many
changes in the system, and everything on Skuld's been marked
unreadable/unwriteable."

"How about the rest of it?"

"All the other data is intact.  It's only the information
regarding Skuld that's been tampered with."

Urd frowned as she gently tugged at a leaf.  She stopped
short of pulling it off.  It could have possibly done Very
Bad Things.  "It's not spreading through the system, is it?"

"It seems to have stopped."

"Hrm.  Lemme give ya a hand with this..."

                     -*-

Katherine 'Kit' Ryan had lived in Belfast for most of her
life.  Having lived in the midst of bigotry, prejudice,
apathy, for years, she was hardly fazed by human stupidity,
but even she had to frown at the latest IRA campaign.

"When the sky bleed red with British blood, me arse," she
muttered.  "Who's writin' these things, anyway?"

The brown-haired man standing next to her laughed.  "C'mon,
Kit, you know these things ain't fit for even the tabloids.
Don't make a big fuss over this, eh?"

"Aye, Peter, but it still..."

"Never mind that bollocks, how about we head over to
Lavery's?"  Peter said, a twinkle in his eyes as he stroked
his beard.

"Humph.  I suppose I'm paying, eh?"

"Yeah, Kathy, I ever tell ye ye were always my favert
sister?"

Kit snorted.  "Only when you're tryin' to butter me up.
Still sneaking around with Sadie behind her husband's back?"
She glanced down at Peter's shoes, smirking.  "Wear out your
shoes running like hell, eh?"

Kit shook her head, and continued to stroll down the street,
smirking as Peter followed, protesting that it was all a
misunderstanding.

Suddenly, she stopped, Peter nearly running into her.

"Wha---?" Peter started to say, before Kit cut him off with
a wave of her hand.  The air seemed heavy with tension,
though she couldn't really say why.  Looking around, she
could see the people around her were getting restless too.

Something bad was going on, she could feel it in her bones.

The sounds of guns in the distance made her instinctively
hit the sidewalk along with her brother.

"Ah shite!" Peter yelled, as he looked up towards the
horizon.  Kit glanced up as well, and saw the beginnings of
a riot taking place.  A large crowd was emerging from around
the corner, and the sounds of breaking glass and angry yells
were echoing down the street.

"Fuck, city's goin' insane as usual." Kit grumbled, getting
up to her feet and starting to look for signs of soldiers
and terrorists.

She reached to tug Peter along.  "C'mon let's get out of
here before shit hits the fan.  Why do I always get stuck
babysitting those oh-so-big strong men when their brains
freeze?" she growled as she pulled her brother with her.

A few raindrops hit the pavement below her feet.  She walked
a little faster, trying to get away from the worsening riots
and the increasing rain, and SOMETHING was still wrong,
something more, but something that was just out of reach.

And as they ran, as the fires of unrest began to consume
Belfast once more, the rain began pouring in ernest.

And of the thousands in the city, only a handful truely
_saw_ the rain.

The red rain.

                     -*-

Alone in the empty halls of the Caecus Magi lair, John
searched wherever he could.  He needed to find _something_,
because whatever the Caecus Magi were up to, he could feel
it was bad.

Possibly as bad as the Fear Machine fiasco.

John sighed.  That was a blast from the distant past, back
when he was with Marj and her daughter Mercury.

The Caecus Magi was one of those shadow organizations, with
their strings tied into all corners of the British
government.  They'd worked with the military to develop a
weapon, one using ley lines and kidnapped psychics to
unleash a massive wave of fear, triggering delusions and
madness wherever they pleased.

Along the way, they'd also released a primal god that nearly
destroyed the world, but somehow John and company managed to
save the day.

He'd heard very little from the Caecus Magi since then, and
he rather liked it that way.

But now... what were they up to now?

This whole setup, it wasn't the same as the one for the Fear
Machine, no.  That one used one psychic at a time, and if
his suspicions were correct, all those poor bastards
strapped down in the pit were at least sligtly telepathic.
That many in one room could, in theory, generate quite a bit
of psychic energy.  So what went wrong?  And did they set
something loose?

Opening another set of doors, John smiled at what greeted
him.  The room was lined with bookshelves, all containing
fragile, dusty volumes.  Possibly interesting reading, no
doubt, but he had a gut feeling that the real prize was
hidden somewhere else.

He walked past the shelves, to the large oak desk at the
back of the room.  Behind it was an impressionist painting
of a woman standing in a golden field, something that made
John grin. He didn't care for impressionism personally, but
the painting was a Morisot that went missing from the
Chesterfield art gallery last year.

"A little rent money," he mumbled to himself as he took the
painting down.  And then he saw what was behind the painting
and sighed.

It was a safe.

"Typical, innit?"

He shook his head, tsking at the lack of creativity the
Caecus Magi seemed to have, and went to work cracking the
safe.  With a little mix of intuition and skill, he had the
safe open in minutes.

He turned the handle, then hesitated.

"Oh my, tricky lads.  Nice touch."

He peered closely at the safe, then moved his finger in an
intricate pattern over the bottom left face of it.  The path
his finger moved over glowed faintly for a moment, then
faded.

And then John opened the safe.

Inside the vault were several journals, a folder with a few
sheets of paper, and several bundles of money.

John smiled.

"Ah, more rent money."

He pulled one journal out, then frowned as he noticed the
lock on it.  The others were locked as well.  With a sigh,
he stuffed the money and journals into his trenchcoat
pockets, tucked the folder under his arm and left the
building.

There might've been more to see, but he had a feeling that
he'd hit the jackpot. Besides that, he wanted to read over
his earnings in private.

First, though, a trip to the pub would be nice.

                     -*-

It was another city, another conflict, another small eastern
european city left in ashes.  United Nations monitor Jane
Wilson wondered if there'd ever be an end to it all.  She'd
been to so many ravaged cities in the last month she'd lost
track.

Today she and a military convoy were on their way to...
Slovandi.... or something like that... she could never
pronounce the names right.  All she knew is that it was yet
another war-torn city in the now chaotic nation of Vlatvia.

As the convoy of trucks and armored personel carriers rode
into town, the sight that greeted her was one of utter
destruction.  Dead bodies littered the street, all clearly
victims of violence.  Impaled, decapitated, shot, burned,
they were all killed in different ways.  Some bodies were
still tangled together, in a last pose of combat after
death, with knives and guns aimed at each other.

The town itself was in no better shape.  Dozens of buildings
were wrecked, either smashed down or burned to the ground.
Some buildings still had lingering flames in them, sending
trails of smoke into the sky.  The stench of blood and ashes
was strong.

"My God," she muttered quietly.  "What happened here?"

The convoy came to a stop, and the United Nations forces
cautiously fanned out.  Jane and two armed escorts walked
cautiously out of her jeep, and headed for one of the few
structures that escaped severe damage, a church.  A few
window panes were broken, and a few bulletholes marred the
wooden walls, but the building was, as a whole, far better
off than its neighbors.  Looking at the footsteps to the
church, she saw streaks of blood.

She knocked on the church doors cautiously.

"Hello?  Is anyone here?"

>From within she heard a nervous sort of shuffling.  The two
UN officers by her side held their guns nervously, though
she motioned for them to calm down.

"Hello?"

Jane opened the doors, trying not to cringe at the whining
of the door hinges, and peered in side.  Huddled on the
floor, lying low, trembling in an almost spastic manner was
an elderly priest.  He'd suffered some bullet wounds, but
was somehow still alive.  Judging by the streaks of blood
on the floor, he'd been shot outside and managed to crawl
back in.

She picked up her radio and called for a medical team, then
knelt by the man's side.

"Take it easy, sir.  Help's on the way."

He turned to her, his eyes wild with fear.  "Is... is it
stopped?"

"Yes, the fighting's stopped."

"N-no... the rain..."

Jane's brow wrinked as she frowned.  "Rain?"

"Yes... red... red rain."

                     -*-

"Pay attention, boys and girls, seven in the side pocket,
eight in the corner, and she'll stop about an inch before
the niner."

With a twirl of the stick, John stepped up to the
billiards table took aim, and let his luck do the rest.

-clack-

The cue ball glided easily across the table...

-clack-

...struck the seven on the side, sending it into the side
pcoket, rolling onwards...

-clack-

...hit the eight at a sharp angle, sending it off to the
corner pocket, then finally came to a stop a few inches away
from the nine ball.

The men watching groaned and turned away, muttering about
the devil's luck.  John, meanwhile, knocked down the final
shot with ease.

Pound notes were tossed on the table with frustration
aftewards, a little more cash to John's 'rent' fund.

"Good game, mate," said one of them.  "I'll get ye next
week."

John laughed and patted him on the back.  "We'll see about
that, Bill.  Ta."

"Later, Johnny."

John's regular pool mates ambled out of the pub, leaving the
magus alone with his aleto contemplate other matters.  Had
that deal with the priest coming up Thursday, something to
check down by the piers come Sunday midnight, and...

Was there something he was forgetting?

He bit down on his cigarette, irritated at the nagging
feeling of something he'd forgotten.

Oh, shite.

Did he forget Gemma's birthday again?

"Oi, Bill, mind if I use your phone?"

"Go'hed, Johnny."

He stamped out the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray
and reached for the phone,  hoping that he was wrong about
this.  Gemma was all grown up now, but she still took it too
personally when John forgot these sorts of things.  Nothing
to do but to call his sister Cheryl to sort it out.

//"Hello?"//

"'lo sis."

//"Oh, John.  What's up?"//

"Did I... ah... forget Gemma's birthday again?  I've got
this nagging feeling..."

//"For once, no,"// replied Cheryl.  //"Her birthday is NEXT
month.  For once, you're a bit early."//

John blinked, surprised.  "Really?  Huh.  Nevermind then,
luv.  Seeya."

He set the phone aside, pausing to rub out his cigarette in
the ash tray.  That nagging feeling was still there, but
it'd have to wait till another day.  At least he wasn't late
for Gemma's birthday...

Still, something was bothering him.

John shrugged it off, knowing that the solution would come
to him sooner or later.  The way his life worked, it always
would.  It was getting late anyway, and the end of a long
day at that.

He rose from his chair, stretching as he did.  "G'nite,
Bill."

"Be seeing you, Johnny."

"Ta."

                     -*-

It was short and brief, but one of the most intense riots
that Private Joseph Bergman had ever seen in the border zone
between Lebanon and Israel.

When he tried to think of how it all started, his memory
turned hazy.  What he did remember was the shouting and the
shoving that turned into rock throwing that turned into
gunfire and chaos.

He was battered and bruised, a bullet through his stomach
and several cuts on his face.  The other men in his unit
were worse, a lot of them dead.  The entire town was in
ruins, a funeral pyre in the night.  The survivors cried for
their beloved dead or just wandered away in a daze.  In the
distance he heard the thrum of vehicles and the sirens of
ambulances, but they were all far too late.

So there he was, one of the few survivors of his squad,
propped up against an overturned jeep, his glassy eyes
watching the town burn.

He was tired, so tired.

Just needed to close his eyes...

A song drifted into his ears, a whimsical sort of whistling,
coming closer.  Despite his blurred vision, Joseph turned to
see who it was.

The silhouetted shape of a woman came to view, wearing some
sort of robes.  What she was doing here, he couldn't
imagine.

("Hey... lady... it isn't... isn't safe here.")

("I know.")

("Wha... what're you doing here?")

The woman laughed, a lilting, gentle laugh that seemed
cruel in an unidentifiable sort of way.  ("Enjoying the
view.")

A cold breeze blew past.  Joseph shivered.  He felt a
delicate hand touch his shoulder.

("Don't worry,") she said.  ("It'll be over soon.")

                     -*-

Sleep came easily for John Constantine, but the dream that
awaited him was far from it.

He found himself in the middle of a familiar place.
Belfast?  Very likely, he thought to himself.  Everything
being in shades of grey was a big hint that this was a
dream.

Everything but the fires, that is.  Those were quite
definitely red.

"Well, this is foreboding, innit?"

All across the city, in the distance, fires burned and
raged, windows were shattered, and the wounded and dead
strewn about.

He walked onward.

As he passed another intersection, he sensed something to
his right.  John turned, and saw, several blocks away, the
silhouette of a lone figure standing before a burning
building, her long ebony hair swaying in the breeze.

"Kit?"

He walked to her, then ran, sensing there was something
urgent here, something important.  He ran, feet pounding on
the pavement, breath turning ragged, heartbeat rising.  He
saw, as he came closer, the look of sadness in her face, of
resignation.

And she was fading away.

"No, God, no, not her!  Kit!"

A few meters more...

"Kit!"

... just a little more...

She gave him a sad little smile, then mouthed two little
words, her voice barely a whisper.

"Help meee...."

... and then she was gone.

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

                     -*-

        When it comes to be that the soothing light
        At the end of your tunnel
        Was just a freight train coming your way

                - Metallica, "No Leaf Clover"

                     -*-
                 end part 2
                     -*-