Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

shouted, "Midnite! Come on, do I have to huff and puff here?"Two long moments, as if the doors themselves were considering the matter, and then theygroaned open. A tall man entirely covered with old scars emerged, and gave Constantine a wideberth, looking at him askance as he passed.Constantine stepped into Midnite's office, a big room busy with masks, exotic plants, and avariety of phones and computers. Midnite sat at a table on which was a brass orrery, a scientificsculpture of the sort that displayed the solar system, except that this sculpture was frozen,unmoving at present, and it was an orrery of the primary forces of the universe - and theseversions of the worlds were etched with sigils and ancient terminology, correspondences in Greekand English: Material, Astral, Spiritual, Iconic, and so on. The globe at the center of the orrerywas labeled Creator.Seated at a table, working over the orrery, was Midnite - which he was black as. At one time aHaitian witch doctor, he was rather more now. He still had his shamanistic chops, of course, buthe had progressed into more sophisticated magic. He was also a savvy businessman, owner ofthis club and the one that concealed it, and more; and possessor of many very finely tailored suitjackets - including a silver pendant shaped like a scorpion. Constantine had seen that pendantcome alive and sting people.Midnite didn't look up from his tinkering as Constantine entered."That thing's never going to balance…" Constantine remarked."Ah," Midnite said, wielding a tool with the delicacy of a brain surgeon, "but it always does.We simply must learn to see how it balances." His Haitian accent was still with him."Somebody has been reading way too many fortune cookies."Midnite looked at him with mild irritation. "You've been absent some time. Have you comehere with... relics to sell?""No. I'm out of that now. I've been too busy.""Or perhaps peddling forgeries has ended up being bad for your health."Constantine stared. "You behind what's happened to me, is that what you're saying?"Midnite shook his head, smiling faintly. "No. I don't know what's happened, but I'm notbehind anything - not what's happening to you, anyway." His smile was an odd mix of joy andmalevolence. "But whatever it is, I'm sure it's what you deserve. That relic cost me a lot ofKrugerrands.""Jesus, Midnite - I thought the thing was authentic. You can't still be pissed off about that...."They locked eyes. Testing wills. Constantine returned glare for glare - till he had to break offfor a short fit of coughing.Midnite sighed and shrugged.''What?'' Constantine demanded. "I didn't blink. That was a cough. You never cough?"Midnite's eyes narrowed, seemed to look into him. And probably did. "Ah. I see now. Yourhealth is bad for... other reasons. How long?"It was Constantine's turn to sigh. He looked at the Creator sphere. "A few months maybe. Ayear.""Yes. I thought 1 heard thunder last night. It must've been Satan's stomach growling. You'rethe one soul he'd come up here himself to collect."Constantine managed a thin smile at that. "So I've heard."'Well," Midnite went on, "I am most certain you did not come here for a sympathetic shoulderto cry on. And so?"Constantine toyed with a cigarette but didn't light it. "A demon just attacked me - right out inthe open, on Sunset.""Not so surprising. They don't like you, John. How many have you deported back to Hell?""No, you don't get it - this was not some angry half-breed. It was a full-fledged demon. Here.On our plane. On Sunset and Crescent, to be precise. Here in person."Midnite raised his eyebrows. "Clearly I do not have to remind you, that is impossible."