Ah, the stench of whisky breath and unsatisfied desire. It was always unsatisfied in places like this. Places where shitstains congregated. Those in the flesh, and those beyond.

I enjoyed it, though. I can't lie. Not now. Not with what I was about to do. Being up against it and feeling the prickle of death, that tingle down the spin and in the balls, it had a way of cutting through all the bullshit. And as much as I tried, I still loved my vices.

The whisky. The women. The brutal cold hearted honesty. I loved indulging as much as I loved living. Which was sweet fuck all. I mostly drank and fucked to pass the time. And to do what my heart of hearts wanted. And that was one shallow and fucked up center of self. It was simply to escape life, rather than live it.

So I couldn't blame these guys. Not in the least. They had no choice, not at this point anyways as they made theirs however many crossroads ago. They needed this place as much as the soul suckers needed them. And that's why I was here. Another shitstain to exorcise. But this one, this fucker was different.

They always were. But I came here looking for one in particular, one I'd travelled all the way from the cold miserable streets of London for. One who I'd been wanting to see again, really, really fuckn bad.

Some of that was me, my own desire to right a wrong that had been haunting me since a fateful day. Another was this thing called fate. Some slapped the name chance to it. Some, a name of a God or a religious figurehead or some philosophical offshoot.

Me? I knew it different. It was different. It was like a definite blot on one's lifestream, a kink in one's karmic hose. Something inescapable, no matter the attempts to dodge or hide.

It was an inevitable life event and no matter what, I was always going to be here and at this exact time. I was always going to walk through the Arizona Club doors, through the swarm of untamed desire and up those stairs. And fittingly, into room thirteen.

And there she was. My life's event. My karmic kink, and even more fittingly she carried the name Karma. Her body did, anyway. The beast that was within her and about to drive a knife through some poor s.o.b's chest, well that was my reason for being here.

Anthony made quick work of the near sacrifice with a spear tackle and some ground and pound. Timing, impeccable. And if not and the cheating husband copped his death at the hand of the undead, not exactly a sleep taker. I sure as fuck wouldn't miss a wink.

But it obviously wasn't his time and he scrambled his way out after we untied him. If ever there were a moment in life for someone to wake up and create some lasting change, that would've done it. But his future wasn't our concern and it sure as shit wasn't what had us here armed to the teeth.

I closed the door and propped a chair up against it as Anthony began tieing Karma's unconscious body to the bed, hands and feet to the corner bedposts. The usual jig. Tie down the possessed so we can perform the rites then fuck off for a drink and hopefully a pull, and a fuck. Same shit, different country.

But remember how this was somehow different? Well to cut a long story short, this demon was one who on account of mine and my brothers conjuring ended up in Max's death. Me twin. Me other half.

The only reason I still dragged my sorry ass out of bed every morning. The whisky helped, but he was my drive, the force behind my will to keep on seeking and for lack of a long sarcastic rant, the reason I was still living.

And since then I'd been on the hunt, all over the shitholes of the world just to find this foul shitstain and send his ass back to the hell we dragged it out of. It was my karmic shitstorm coming full circle. It was time to face the pitchfork. Constantine style.

I hopped onto the bed and stood at the base just as Karma and the hell spawn decided to wake up. First her consciousness showed itself for a brief moment and then the demon, Morgoth.

It once again took over. Poor Karma was just a witness and if she was to make it out alive a headache after the fact would be a win, a miracle even. Who knows what else she's had to endure as the rot lay waste to life around her, through her. Memories? Nightmares on top of nightmares. Poor lass, but she ain't all sunshine neither.

The usual pull out of the little black book unsurprisingly was met with a shit ton of scorn and ridicule. You think they'd know by now this aint no joke. I flicked it open and started on the Latin phrases stuck inside the middle pages, hand out in front of me for full effect.

Now, they know. They know I ain't reciting some shit written by the church. The book is something else, but the dialogue within, well that's some old-school pagan rites. And with each word I force out and focus on the tied up body before me, all hell breaks loose.

It usually does, yet add a dash of times fuckn ten to the mix and you got the power of this fucker. I should've known. And as I flew off the bed I fuckn did know. Right on me ass, making an ass of myself once again.

"John!"

Anthony, always the attentive and caring friend. Surprised I hadn't got him killed yet. I had to twist his arm after our last outing, with a shotgun to his head. Surprised he was still concerned for me. But that was Anthony. Loyal. Caring. And in a way, stupid.

He helped me up as the bed shook and the nasty piece of shit kicked up a fuss. If it wasn't for the fact we were technically in a place of hellish freedom, it wouldn't have been so bad. But we both sensed it.

Anthony had the gift more than me. It was part and parcel of the world we lived and worked in. His was on another level though and was what had me in the states to begin with. His nightly journeys into his third eye and beyond caught the wiff of Morgoth and had me on a plane for Vegas months earlier.

"John, better get cracking mate!"

Captain obvious rushed to the side table at the head of the bed and began dousing holy water all over Karma's face and body. He knew the routine well, interrupt and weaken the state so John could get back to work. Couldn't fault him there. His choice in friends though, maybe his one non-redeeming character trait.

As the devil spawn got back to a state of uneasiness I stood at the side of the bed next to Anthony as the sound of rushing footsteps began on the stairs down the hallway outside the room.

The verse had to be finished, so I started anew with more focus and determination to send one of Satan's fucksticks back to sit on his pitchfork. There was something about knowing how much torment this thing would be in upon returning that gave me an extra jolt of fuck you satisfaction. With that inner hellfire, I began chanting.

"Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos, Regna terrae, cantata Dea psallite Aradia. caeli Deus, Deus terrae, Humiliter majestati gloriae tuae supplicamus Ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, Laqueo, and deceptione nequitia, Omnis fallaciae, libera nos, dominates..."

As I spoke each word the bed shook more and more and Anthony hit the demonic entity encased in human flesh with more and more holy water. If this fucker was to exit, it was going in one big huff.

It had enjoyed its time here too much. So many left tortured and crippled; body soul and mind. A crime spree not unlike a serial killers, yet playing on those societal scum to get double the kicks. The immediate experience of one's downward spiral and all the unholy grandeur that went with it.

All the suffering. The pain and the anguish. The constant inability to quench such a knawing at the mind. Never satisfied. Always searching for more, for another hit of whatever sin or sins the host was most open to.

And it all started with me and my need to experiment with the dark arts. Max's death was one thing, yet what about the carnage therafter? Did all his hunting the damned and helping the haunted really make up for all the trail of destruction left by Morgoth?

An answer would have to wait. Thumping on the door had interrupted me rites. More demon spawns to join this orgy. Just my luck, hopefully some succubi for the fuck fest. They always knew how to twist me good.

"I'll see to that, finish this!"

Anthony again, me comrade, me brother. Much like the misfits in RP Inc. Always there, always a witty comeback or right hook away. He grabbed a shotgun he brought with and headed toward the door, just in case. And me, well I got back to the exorcism with a little more gusto.

"Exorcizamus you omnis immundus spiritus Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, Omnis and congregatio secta diabolica. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, dominates, Ut coven tuam secura tibi libertate servire facias, Te rogamus, audi nos!"

The door broke and Anthony began pumping rounds into the led peddlers that tried their luck. I didn't need to see it, to know it. And I couldn't waste anymore time, I had to keep on. The exorcism needed to be in quick succession for it to work.

"Ut inimicos sanctae circulae humiliare digneris, Te rogamus, audi nos! Terribilis Deus Sanctuario suo, Cernunnos ipse truderit virtutem plebi Suae, Aradia ipse fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus, Gloria Patri, Benedictus Dea, Matri gloria!"

As I stood at the side of the bed and flicked the bible closed, it was as if time froze. All of the little black book shut except the front page. The name inscribed inside was what met my eyes. Me old, tired and finally relieved eyes.

Max. His name written on the first holy page was what had me going all these years. Me heart and me soul, as if speaking to me through that one instance. Maybe soon enough I'd ask him what he was whispering to me, yet I think I already knew.

It would've contained the words cunt and a wink. That was him, through and through. We had the same mouth on us but he had a heart of gold. I think his heart, or atleast the tiniest slither of it, was with me all this time.

I turned to see Anthony on the floor, slumped with his back up against the wall. Stupid. His dumb luck of having me as a friend had finally caught up to him. I raced over but it was too late. He was gone. And knowing him he'd be beating the shit out of the demon in spirit form before heading off completely.

I closed his eyes. My fingers running over his eyelashes reminded me just how real this life had become. I drank most of it away, and fucked the rest into my subconscious orgasms. But with Max's and now Anthony's deaths, it was all too real.

Footsteps clammering up the stairs brought me back again. And more of the same sounds of some fuckers ready to kick off round two made me take Anthony's shotty and also grab at me own. 

I may have finally found my redemption and possibly met me karmic kink with a straightened hose, but there was one more thing to do. I stood at the door, waiting, one gun in each arm aimed right where the fuckers would try their luck.

Before this night was through it seemed some more were eager to join the damned, ready to be Constantined. I just hoped fate would allow me to make it out to see a woman about a horse. That woman being Kathryn and that sweet mare, a very Max like thank you. Full of the wink and gold heart, minus the cunt.