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If he were human, D would have had trouble hearing Lix over the thumping bass of the techno music that screamed from the overhead speakers in the VIP section of their favorite bar and nightclub, Alien. But unfortunately D heard him clear as day. “That’s bullshit,” said Lix, and knocked back another shot of Patrón. It was his fifth. He was just getting started. Watching Constantine disappear around a darkened corner on the far side of the room with a human female wearing a dress so short it was almost a belt, D sighed and ran a hand over his shaved head. “I’m telling you, Lix, there’s something weird going on with Dominus and that Servus, Silas. I just don’t know what it is yet.” He shook his head, frowning. “Something’s just not right.” He’d dreamed of it in bits and pieces, clues that
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