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Night had fallen over Constantine's cramped little house.
Soren pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by the familiar smell of stale cigarette smoke—though tonight it was noticeably weaker than usual.
He spotted Angela sitting on the couch and raised an eyebrow. He understood exactly why the smoke was lighter.
Angela wore loose loungewear, cradling a cup of hot tea as she watched Constantine's back with a soft expression.
"Ahem."
"So… you two?"
Soren looked between Constantine, who still had half a cigarette dangling from his lips, and Angela. His gaze was openly suggestive.
Angela shifted uncomfortably under his stare and quickly explained, "Don't get the wrong idea. I sold my house and don't have anywhere to stay right now, so I'm just crashing with John for a few days."
"I get it. I totally get it."
Soren nodded along with perfect understanding. "So, when am I getting my money?"
Ten million dollars. Hard-earned blood money Constantine had squeezed out of her for him.
Getting that cash wouldn't just push his side quest progress forward—it would also give him ten Devil Arm draws. Perfect timing, since Alastor was currently broken and he had nothing decent to fight with right now.
Angela looked relieved that the awkward topic had been dropped and answered, "I've been running around the bank handling the paperwork these past few days. The funds should hit your account tomorrow."
Soren nodded, satisfied.
"Money can wait until tomorrow," Constantine said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and crushing it in the ashtray. "Let's talk business."
He slid a piece of paper across the table toward Soren, his expression serious.
On it was a rubbing of the ouroboros symbol.
"About the origin of this mark, I had someone dig around and found a few leads."
Constantine tapped the symbol on the paper. "The earliest records trace back to late medieval Europe in the fifteenth century."
Soren's eyebrow lifted. "Fifteenth century? That's hundreds of years before America was even founded."
Constantine gave a grim nod.
Soren set the paper down and leaned against the table, waiting for him to continue.
One second.
Two seconds.
A full minute passed in silence.
The room grew uncomfortably quiet.
Angela sat on the couch, watching the two men stare at each other. She even tried to breathe quieter.
"And then?"
Soren finally broke the silence.
"And then what?"
Constantine spread his hands, fighting back a smirk like he already knew how ridiculous his next words would sound.
"Nothing. That's it."
Soren stared at him. "That's it? You sat there looking all serious for that?"
"What else do you want?" Constantine rolled his eyes. "You said it yourself—this thing's been around for centuries."
"A secret organization that's stayed hidden in the shadows for hundreds of years and doesn't want to be found. You really expect me to figure out their headquarters and what color underwear their leader's wearing in just a few days?"
Soren opened his mouth, then closed it.
Because the bastard actually had a point.
"Still, there might be one place that could have deeper information—"
Constantine started to say, but Soren cut him off with a wave.
"Forget it. Let's put this on hold for now."
He had no interest in playing world savior at the moment. Right now, the priority was clearing out any threats that might go after Patty because of him. As for some ancient group that specialized in smuggling demons into the world, the angels could deal with that headache themselves.
"Oh? You're just giving up?"
A lazy, feminine voice drifted in from the window behind him.
Soren spun around.
Moonlight framed a tall figure now perched on the windowsill.
"Or is it because you're worried about dragging that girl named Patty into this?"
Bayonetta slipped through the window like a black cat, one hand braced on the frame. She leaned forward slightly, the tight leather hugging every curve of her body as moonlight slid over her. Long legs, exaggerated proportions, black-rimmed glasses, and that signature beauty mark at the corner of her eye.
"Bayonetta?!"
Soren's pupils shrank the moment he recognized her.
What the hell? Where had this ancient monster crawled out from? How had he never heard even a whisper about her before?
The thought flashed through his mind before he forced it down. He turned to Constantine instead.
"When the hell did you two hook up?"
"Careful with your words, handsome. 'Hook up' isn't very polite when you're talking to a lady."
Bayonetta sauntered over on high heels, trailing one pale finger across Soren's shoulder as she passed. Her red lips curved.
"I was the one who found him."
"Though right now, I'm more interested in something else—"
She leaned in close, bending at the waist until they were eye to eye, a teasing smile on her face.
"How do you know who I am?"
Soren let out a short laugh and took a deliberate half-step back.
Not only did he know her—he'd played several of her games.
This was the last surviving member of the Umbra Witches. The woman who treated hunting angels like a hobby, wielded time-manipulating black magic, and had a habit of casually destroying entire cities wherever she went.
When Soren didn't answer, Bayonetta just chuckled and hopped up onto Constantine's desk, crossing her long legs. The leather outfit creaked softly as it stretched over her curves.
"The organization behind that mark calls itself the Heretic Coven."
She toyed with a strand of her long black hair as she spoke.
"They're not ordinary demon worshippers or basement cultists. They're an ancient secret society that's existed since the primordial era."
"And just to correct your friend here—their history goes back much further than the fifteenth century."
Bayonetta rested her chin on one hand, watching Soren with amusement. "In recent centuries, they've become far more active. Not only are they summoning demons from Hell all over the world, they're also hunting down humans with special bloodlines."
"Perhaps they're planning something big enough to turn the world upside down?"
"What do you think, handsome? Sounds terrifying, doesn't it?"
Soren took another step back, putting more distance between them.
He wasn't particularly scared. Even if he couldn't win, he could still run. And if things really went to hell, Dante and Vergil were around to handle the real monsters.
Compared to whatever cosmic-scale bullshit this woman was probably involved in, he'd rather stay far away from her. Getting tangled up with Bayonetta usually meant dealing with sleeping creators, chaos gods, or timeline resets. Galaxy-destroying, universe-rebooting levels of nonsense.
That was way above his current pay grade.
"Since you're taking over the investigation, I'll stay out of it. Good luck."
Soren turned and headed straight for the door.
His hand had just touched the doorknob when—
[Ding!]