Quinn Wilson is scarred and damaged, heartbroken and plagued with guilt because of the lose of the woman she loved, but long before that being the daughter of Slade Wilson and Adeline Kane will do things to a person.
Fate has bigger plans than she...
"I'll try to hide my lack of surprise that mouthy knows the strange demon hunter dude," Mick grunted.
"He's actually a warlock." Quinn reprimanded him as she took in the house before her, in a more affluent part of London November 5th, 1891 the town abuzz with the night's activities for the burning of their Guy Fawkes.
The dark-haired woman smiled with a gleam as a small group of children walked past a guy sat haphazardly in an old toy pram.
"This is so crazy it's been so long since I've celebrated this day." Memories sprung to her mind of her childhood in England, the many Bonfire nights on her grandfather's estate with vast elaborate fireworks that had filled her youthful heart with such warmth.
"You just burn things?" Mick grunted.
" Kinda. "
"I'm beginning to like this." He smiled happily, he'd clearly been born in the wrong place.
Dark grey clouds hung over them adding to the greyish beige tone to the city itself, the stench of the city stung their noses and clung to them as unwanted as it was.
Even the wealthy stank.
Sara frowned she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. "Constantine you said you knew where we are going, so why are we standing here doing nothing?"
" Good question love, if you will all follow me I'll take you to our destination. " He cast her a weary smile, turning around and making his way to the house that stood just across the road.
"I guess we should follow." Sara shrugged.
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The street was filled with tall attached houses mostly white with black doors, big and grand large door knockers hung proudly at the center, it was at such a door that Constantine now stood his cigarette caught between his thumb and forefinger as he blew out a stream of smoke, waiting.
Quinn, Sara, Mick, and Amaya made their way towards that same door standing just below the few steps that lead to it.
A scattering of feet appeared from the other side of the door, in a slow motion it opened and there stood a weary looking middle-aged woman her hair pulled up away from her face, her dull grey eyes seemed to match her hair.
"Mr. Constantine you are here at last Miss Ives said you would be returning."
" 'Er I am love, can we come in? "
Her eyes traveled to the few strangers who stood watching, her weathered fingers shook as she clasped tightly onto a piece of white material in her hand.
"Are these them?" She asked wearily.
"Yes." He replied simply.
The woman moved aside too quickly her feet seeming to just catch up with her body as she moved uneasily, "Please do come in, Miss Ives is in the lounge."
