Hearing Yang Bo's words, Constantine breathed an inward sigh of relief. As long as the man wasn't here to cause him trouble, that was enough.
As for Gabriel, what did that have to do with him?
"Cough... cough, cough..."
Constantine broke into a violent coughing fit. His lung cancer was already terminal, and he could drop dead at any moment.
Even so, he reached into his trench coat pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and stuck it in his mouth.
At that moment, Yang Bo truly admired Constantine's disregard for his own life. Yang Bo smoked without restraint because his body couldn't get sick, but Constantine simply powered through it.
"There's no pattern to Gabriel's movements. Finding them won't be easy. Usually, they just show up in front of me out of nowhere."
Constantine paused, took a drag, and continued, "Even when I don't want to see them at all."
Yang Bo fell silent for a moment, then asked, "If... I mean, if you died, would they show up?"
Constantine shook his head expressionlessly. "No."
"But Satan would."
Satan had already put the word out that he would personally collect Constantine's soul when he died. Constantine had already figured out how to deal with that.
Yang Bo was just about to say that Satan had no time for him.
Angie La ran over, glanced at Yang Bo, then turned her gaze to Constantine.
Her eyes were red as she said, "I hope you can help me."
Constantine's brows knitted tightly together. "I'll help you," he said quietly. "But as you can see, I have something to deal with right now. I'll come find you once I'm done."
A phone rang. Constantine pulled his phone from his pocket, checked the caller ID, and quickly answered.
"Hello? Beeman,