Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

mumbling castings, so that they were lifted up supernaturally, began to float down the hallwaytoward him, still falling apart as they came - a lower jaw falling off one of them to clumpbouncing onto the floor, another's leg falling from where the demon floated near the ceiling, thelimb breaking messily apart as it hit the floor, flesh and veins unraveling to bare bone.Constantine stayed where he was, not wanting to lure them to Angela. He raised the shotgunto his shoulder, aimed at the nearest demon, cantering along on three limbs.... He fired, and blewit apart, but others were coming, demon after demon, rotting but still lethal, levitating andcrawling down the hall, some of them muttering his name, over and over:"Constantine... John Constantine..."He fired the shotgun, again and again. One of them was crawling along the ceiling upsidedown, flipping to drop at him, he fired right into its gaping mouth and the round traveled throughthe back of its throat and down its spinal column, sending the vertebrae flying like dominos, andthe demon flew apart into shrieking ashes. Another leapt at him from the floor like a jumpingspider, and he had to knock it backward with the butt of the gun before he had time to pump theshotgun and send a round into the back of its neck. It spasmed, a broken thing, before quiveringitself apart. And still the demons came on....--Angela heard a low thudding, realized it was gunshots - sounded like a shotgun - from anotherpart of the building, not far away.The scavenger heard it too, and looked away from her in the direction of the shots, distractionloosening his grip on her neck.That was her chance. She struck up at his wrist with the heel of her right hand in a tae kwondo move, knocking his hand loose from her, while striking at his jaw with her left fist, the blowcoming straight from the shoulder as she'd been taught.But he dodged and she caught him only glancingly, so that he staggered back but kept his feet,digging at his pocket for the iron spike.She tried to climb out of the pool, hoping to get to her gun: He'd thrown it into a comer. Buthe grabbed her around the waist in snarling fury, pulled her back, and - off balance - they bothfell backward into the water, thrashing.Angela felt water invade her lungs, chlorine stinging her sinuses as Francisco rolled on top ofher, straddled her, and forced her down. She heard him say something, the sound mostly mutedby the water - and she didn't think he was speaking to her. She sensed that he'd been given the go- ahead: The time had come to kill her. He pressed his open hand down on her face, forcing heralmost to the floor of the pool.He had the other hand on the spearhead now, and she could feel the strength pour into him.She knew she was done for: She was drowning. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode.She thrashed helplessly, trying to get leverage, to find a way out, but it was no use; it felt as ifevery evil in the world had lumped together into a single weight just to hold her down. She sawher executioner's face up there, warped by the watery surface, and for a moment its shiftingseemed to reveal an angry child, acting out over its abandonment.After that the darkness began to close in on her. She couldn't see him anymore. She saw onlyshafts of light through shadow; blue darkening to indigo.God, help me. I was trying to do your work on Earth. Can't you send someone to help me?It was a heartfelt prayer. But the only response was darkness, a deeper darkness yet. ...But then came light - only it wasn't the light of redemption, it was the light of transition, ofwhite-hot fire coming at her, to engulf her.She screamed... and fell spinning, endlessly falling, sucked down and down. And then beyondup and down...And found herself sitting alone, on the bone-dry floor of the pool. Only this wasn't exactly thesame pool, the same therapy room. This was Hell's version of that room, she realized, looking