"John Constantine..."
Cain's English accent was extremely peculiar. Every word carried a strange vibration, as though his voice came from a place unimaginably far away, and every sentence bore an echo ordinary people could scarcely comprehend.
He paced around Constantine, his devastatingly handsome face submerged in shadow, then continued.
"You followed in Saint William's footsteps and found my tomb. You took the holy blood from one of my few remaining pools of blood. It was a gift even my devout followers had never received."
"So how do you want me to repay your gift? Sleep with you?"
Cain's expression flickered with mild surprise, but he quickly returned to normal. Facing Away from Constantine, he turned his head slightly and said, "Tell me, what has become of the magical world?"
"The magical world? There isn't much of one left." Constantine said mockingly. "You came back at the perfect time. The demons finally couldn't resist harvesting their followers. They collectively broke their contracts and took back the power they'd lent the mages. If you want to rule the world, now's your chance."
"No, I'm not that foolish. I know my greatest enemy isn't the demons, but the Angels. They've never given up on destroying me." Cain continued in that strange tone.
"You want me to help you deal with the Church?" Constantine sneered. "You don't seriously think my reputation is much better than yours, do you? There are forty-six cathedrals in England, and I can't enter a single one. I'd get beaten up just for showing my face at the door."
"That is because you owe the Angels too much. They owe me."
"Forget the old debts. Get to the point." Constantine sat cross-legged on the floor and curled his lip indifferently.
The next second, a pair of bloody hands seized him.