"No."

Erskine shook his head, letting the folds out of the rag he was toying with by shaking it out a little, careful not to shake too hard lest the dust fly everywhere and make more work for him. He still focused on those motions, the rag and his hands, instead of looking right at Constantine. "It's a coincidence. Because they were both evil bastards--or at least I assume Malicant was. I didn't know him. Mevolent certainly was, but he's dead. It took us more than two hundred years but we beat him."

He turned back to the light fixture he'd been working on, still facing John enough to remain part of the conversation, but letting his hands move to clean to keep them occupied. "Let's hope Mevolent never makes it here. Believe me, no one wants that."

The line of his jaw tightened as he said that last part, and he swallowed hard. He'd spent enough time with Mevolent, both during the war and in his nightmares.

"You sound like a conspiracy theorist. If you really want to know the dark things going on in the city, I'd try Valdis. She knows a lot more than I do."