Constantine Ashe: Does anyone notice?

Constantine didn't know how long he sat in the dark, trying to think of nothing and failing. They would come for him, now. Surely they would. He was alone, unprotected, and for once unlikely to resist. So he waited, eyes closed to the inevitable, expecting any minute to feel cold hands on him, pulling and tearing and killing him all over again. He didn't remember dying; he didn't remember what it was like. Would it be different, this time, now that he was already dead?

But they never came. Instead, the policeman came back. Constantine hadn't heard the door open, nor seen the light that should have accompanied it opening, but he was there again. "Still here?" came the unexpected voice in the blackness.

Constantine actually jumped, startled, and looked around wildly at nothing.

"Still here, indeed," purred another voice, feminine and knowing. "Hello, young man."

"So you can see him."

"I can, indeed."

This time Constantine found words: "Who are you? What's going on? Why can you see me?"

"Because I see spirits, boy," the female voice said with a faintly amused tone, and he thought he saw someone moving towards him. He shot to his feet, simultaneously pulling the switchblade from his boot, prepared to fight or flee. "Jumpy, are we?" the voice commented.

"Madam Fantredala, if you would please stop frightening him?"

"But frightening him is fun. Would you rather I ate him?"

"Madam!" The policeman's voice was offended; Constantine could almost see him straightening up with righteous indignation.

"Relax, Begug. I'm not going to eat him. His death was so long ago, it would be rancid by now, anyway."

"Who are you?" Constantine asked again, brandishing the weapon. She didn't seem like one of them, and if his gun could kill someone, maybe so could his knife.

"Fantredala," the woman said. She still seemed to be smirking, though he couldn't see her in the complete absence of light. "And the charming officer who brought me here is Begug, currently very much in disguise."

"Madam, if you please," the policeman-- what kind of a name was "Begug", Russian?-- said with a trace of weary patience. "If you could ask him a few questions for me?"

"Of course, of course. Do you have a name, rancid little spirit?"

He hadn't been asked his name in five years. Inexplicably glad that someone cared to know, he answered; the "rancid little spirit" comment didn't seem like an insult, anyway, strangely. "Constantine Ashe."

"Constantine. Interesting name. What happened here?"

"You mean-- with Ana?"

"Ana?"

"My... sister. Anastasia Ashe. She-- she told me I was dead. I didn't know, I didn't believe her. I was surprised-- I didn't mean to kill her!" His voice cracked, at the last. They couldn't see him, so slid down to sit again and cradled his head in his hands. "But she's dead now... just like me."

"Not exactly just like you," Fantredala commented. "I don't see another realm-bound spirit around, after all."

The police officer shifted his weight. "Madam Fantradala?"

Fantredala sighted faintly-- come to think of it, what kind of a name was "Fantredala"? French?-- but explained. "He confessed to it, Begug, though he obviously didn't mean to. She was his sister; apparently she could see him. I would guess that she is the reason he was even bound to this self-destructive world, in the first place."

"I promised her," Constantine mumbled, almost automatically. He'd promised her he'd never leave her alone....

"Indeed."

The policeman sighed, this time. "I can't exactly report that... how do you arrest a ghost? You can't," he answered himself. "You certainly can't punish them. Not on this world, anyway.... All right, Madam, what would you suggest I do with him, then?"

Fantredala was silent a moment, and Constantine was so familiar with being stared at, that he knew she was staring at him. The regard was not unfriendly-- but neither was it friendly. It was... thoughtful. "You can do nothing with him," she said at last. "Let me have him."

"And what are you going to do with him?"

"Not eat him, so what does it matter to you?"

There was another silence while Officer Begug-- or whatever-- thought about that. "Since all I could possibly do with him would be leave him here and let him haunt the warehouse district," he said at last, "I suppose I have no preference. Try not to cause any trouble with him. I have enough to worry about, with this case that will have to go unsolved...."

"Dear Begug and his penchant for playing detective... run along now and report to your superiors, then. I'll handle little Constantine."

For a moment, the air was tense, as if Begug wanted to say something-- but then the tension vanished. As did, Constantine noted with nervousness, the "sense" of a living presence in the room. Was he alone again?

"Well, then, Constantine...."

No, he wasn't alone. The strange woman, Fantredala, was still there.

"What should we do with you? I'm sure we could find someone to send you on, if that's what you wish-- no?" He couldn't speak, suddenly choked with fear that the others-- spirits, ghosts, demons, whatever they were that wanted him-- would be waiting for him, if he did that, but he could shake his head rapidly and emphatically. He'd thought he was alive for too long to readily lose the fear of dying.

"Well, then," Fantredala continued thoughtfully, "we'll have to find somewhere else for you. Preferably with someone else to look after you; I already have a pair of my own to look after, and you would probably frighten everyone on the Destiny, anyway."

"Can't you just-- let me be?"

"That would be far too boring," Fantredala countered, a smile in her dark voice. "Besides, I can't imagine you'd enjoy staying here, haunting a warehouse, of all places. No, I have a better idea. Come with me; there is a place I would like to show you."

Don't leave me alone.

"I...."

Connie, promise me?

"But I promised...."

"Your sister is beyond the bounds of a promise, now, Constantine."

Connie, you're already dead!

Fantredala extended one shadowy hand, black against black in the darkness. "Just put that pretty little hand on mine, and we'll be off."

I know better, now.

With a sigh, he put his hand in hers.

"Good boy. With any luck," she said, sounding amused, "someone will even die while I'm there. It is the Halloween clutch, after all...."

And then they were gone.