Cyber Repentance

John Constantine thought that was unlikely.

After all, most of the friends he knew could no longer speak, and the channels through which information circulated had basically been physically cut off.

After thinking it over, he could only conclude that fellow practitioners were natural rivals, so Du Mu harbored some hostility toward him.

Constantine was not annoyed. Instead, he shamelessly edged another half-step closer.

With a grin, he said, "Buddy, don't misunderstand. I'm not here to steal your business. Maybe you haven't heard of me, but I, Constantine, am famous in exorcist circles for being loyal to my friends. I've got friends everywhere, and whenever something good comes up, I always share it with them."

Du Mu's mouth twitched.

Heh. Something good? More like a good death.

His disdain was written all over his face. He could not even be bothered to fake politeness. "Sorry, I don't make friends with broke losers."

Constantine immediately took offense and puffed out his chest. "Who are you calling a broke loser? I'm an exorcist, damn it. I've been in this line of work for over ten years. I've got some savings, at least. I might even be richer than you."

That was complete bullshit.

Constantine's finances had been in the red year-round. Going hungry one meal and eating well the next was standard practice. The only reason he had survived this long was because his friends threw him a little support every now and then.

Unfortunately, his friends had an absurdly high casualty rate. On top of that, his credit among acquaintances had long since gone bankrupt. Nobody answered when he called, and whenever he knocked on someone's door, he would hear people inside saying they were not home—only their vocal cords had been left behind.

He was now so broke that he