Click!
The lighter's flint struck a spark. The finely cut golden-brown tobacco began to curl and burn in the orange-red flame, tiny flecks of red glowing along its edges.
That glow resembled a distant window late at night: a single, lonely point at first, then quickly spreading into a small, connected patch, flickering with each slow drag.
Constantine exhaled smoke, watching the demon's form ripple violently in the candlelight. Its burning eyes were fixed on the sleeping Raven, and the rising stench of sulfur was thick enough to choke him.
It would agree. It couldn't resist a temptation like this.
When Giovanni sacrificed himself to hold back the invasion of the Great Darkness, Constantine had thought of Zatanna, the magical prodigy with greater power and potential than Giovanni himself.
He had gone to tell her of her father's death and helped her put everything in order.
Favors always came in handy, didn't they?
Constantine took a deep drag, and the glow at the tip of his cigarette suddenly brightened.
Astra.
He had been arrested as the little girl's murderer and thrown into Ravenscar Asylum. During the day, he endured electric shocks that nearly robbed him of speech. The nights were worse. The orderlies believed he was a child murderer and tortured him all night. When morning came, the doctors turned a blind eye to his injuries.
Over four years, he was released several times, only to be sent back again. He often stood at the edge of a cliff, wondering why he didn't simply end this agonizing cycle, whether he should throw himself into the churning sea and become one with everything. Only lunatics and madmen would turn back time after time and plunge into the hell of reality.
But he didn't dare. The moment Astra was dragged into