The smoke slowly cleared, leaving only the stench of sulfur seeping through the cracks in the masonry.
Batman's cape spread across the entrance to the altar chamber like a black curtain cutting off any retreat. Zatanna followed close behind, her face pale with anger beneath her top hat.
"John Constantine."
Batman's voice echoed through the underground chamber, every word striking the floor like a stone hurled in anger. "What have you done?"
Constantine didn't turn around. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he still held the tin cigarette case in his left hand. The crude cross embossed on its lid gleamed dully in the candlelight.
"What I had to." His voice rasped like sandpaper.
"What you had to?"
Zatanna shouted in fury. "You handed a fourteen-year-old girl over to a Duke of Hell! You stood there and watched Nergal drag her into the abyss!"
"What else was I supposed to do?"
Constantine finally turned. His face was expressionless, showing only utter exhaustion, like a husk with its soul drained out. "You tell me what I should've done, Zee. Let the kid keep wandering around on Earth? Wait for her father, Trigon, to find her and drag the whole world into darkness?"
"We could have protected her..."
"No, you couldn't." Constantine cut her off with a hoarse laugh that mingled mockery and despair. "You think you could? Batman? You? Or that sheriff in the East End? Do you know what Trigon is? Not a demon. Not a monster. A concept. Darkness, chaos, consumption. You want to fight a concept with fists and magic?"
He stepped forward, the candlelight illuminating both madness and lucidity in his eyes. "I gave her the best ending she could get. Asleep in Nergal's realm, at least she can still exist. If Trigon finds her, she'll become