Belial slid his tongue across his lips self-consciously, eyes flickering about the room to be sure they were alone.

The answer to his knock had come swiftly; it made him flitting, nervous.

He was about to defy the master that had held his leash for longer than he cared to think upon. It terrified him.

Sliding his hand into a pocket near his hip, he produced a long silver chain dangling his portion of John Constantine's sundered soul. It glowed, pale blue against his palm, and he held it up for Crowley to see.

"Have you prepared the proper contracts?"