Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

shadow joining to flood toward them. And there was no traffic. Only parked cars. He saw noone around at all."You're right," he said, wondering which way the attack would come from. From thedarkness, he guessed - and the darkness had them surrounded. 'We're born capable of terriblethings. Then sometimes something else comes along and gives us just the right nudge and we dotruly evil things."'What - demons? Ghouls?""Yeah."'Wow. Thanks for sharing. Really. But I don't believe in the Devil.""You should," Constantine said feelingly. "He believes in you."The last of the lights near them went out, and they were in near-complete darkness. In the dimlight from distant parts of the city, he saw her look around. "Power outage?""Not likely," Constantine said. "Not that kind. We should go.... "Constantine made out just one light within walking distance. Distinguished by its shiningalone out there, against the black velvet of the dirty night. A raspy guttural wind raced towardthem. That malevolent gust he'd noticed earlier had been a kind of foreshadowing of this wind.The wind of dark, malodorous, crackling wings."...Fast!" Constantine blurted. He grabbed her arm, jerked her along with him. "Come on!"And they ran.Something soared not so very far overhead - Constantine could smell its reptilian soul. Couldfeel the icy bite of hatred in its shadow as it passed over them, blotting out what little starlightthere was.And that noise - a rasp of leather on leather. "What is that?" Angela gasped, meaning thenoise, as she trotted beside him toward the light in the distance. It hadn't been as far as it hadseemed. "Wings!" Constantine said. "Wings..."Coughing, running and slowing and making himself run a little more, he reached into theinside pocket of his coat, found the piece of sacred cloth that Beeman had given him."And maybe talons," he added.The light up ahead was an illuminated statue of the Virgin Mary, set up in the recessed posterwindow of one of the abandoned movie theaters that lined this decaying strip of downtown LosAngeles. Above the statue a sign read: UNIVERSAL MISSION - JESUS CRISTO ES ELSENOR. The statue was a single beacon in the darkness, its shine setting off a kind of aura ofsilk flowers the local believers had lovingly arrayed around it. The old theater had beenconverted to a church for the local Chicanos.But the light from the statue was fading as they approached it. And the sound of the leatherwings was getting louder.They came puffing up to the grated theater front, pinwheels of oxygen deprivation flashing infront of Constantine's eyes. He looked around, trying the grate. Locked solidly.He stood there, puffing, thinking hard, trying to catch his breath. Only it wouldn't quite comeback. His lungs felt like they were full of broken glass. Remembering the ancient gray cloth hewas still clutching, he wrapped it tightly around his right hand, as Angela drew her gun, breathinghard herself as she squinted into the darkness. "What's out there?"Something was out there - flapping around maybe a dozen yards away. Something big, in aroiling darkness of its own making, like a squid hidden in its ink cloud.The light on the statue was fading, as if dialing down - but it was more like the darkness itselfwas thickening, to such an extent that it smothered the light, however bravely it tried to burnthrough."Did you say talons?" Angela asked. "From what?""Something that's not supposed to be here..."Now he could almost make them out, like scraps of pure murder fluttering in the darkness.Leather-winged shapes, their brandished claws catching what little light there was, as if the light