Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

forever. The rain had almost gone from the streets; there was a deposit of wet trash in the gutter.Someone's inexplicable yellow knit sweater there too, looking mushy with water, and adisintegrating Los Angeles Times sports page.The dial tone! Father Hennessy's fingers tapped at the pay phone buttons."Be there, John," he said aloud. "Please..."He had to warn Constantine. He'd seen it - when the symbol had appeared on Isabel's wrist, awindow had opened, into the deepest darkest realms. Something down there had looked back athim - and it had spoken Constantine's name. It had pointed a claw at him....They were after Constantine. They were after him, too, because he was helping Constantine.And only John Constantine would know how to call them off.The phone rang in his ear, rang and rang...."He's not home, Father, and something's behind you .... It's coming closer, devilish close,Father...." He wasn't going to listen to the nattering of the dead, not now. They were petty andpeevish and they tried to get at you and they were all liars."Can't you hear it? It's behind you, Father! You'd better turn around and look, you old fool!"He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of looking. There was nothing creeping upbehind him. They were only trying to... to scare him, to "Father! You'd better run!"-to warn him.Now he heard something skittering behind him and as he turned it reached him and whippedunder the cuff of his trousers, wrapped itself around his ankle, its touch repellent and slick andmany-legged. He shook his leg frantically, trying to dislodge it, but it gripped him like mosson a tree."Mother of God-Jesus-help me-get it off!" And now it was climbing up Hennessy's leg, windingits way around, whipping toward his buttocks, to the nearest entrance-Hennessy shrieked and dropped the phone's earpiece to dangle and swing, faintly ringing, ashe clawed at himself. But it was already too late. Maybe a bungled lifetime too late.He began to run - as if he could outrun something that was right then climbing his body...forcing its way into him and grabbing hold of his spine and his nervous system and his soul...And turning him toward the liquor store.--"So when a half-breed breaks the rules," Constantine was saying, toying with a cigarette,"when it tries to commandeer free will or hijack a soul-""Sir - there's really no smoking here," the manager said as she passed, not unkindly.''I'm just holding it in my hand," Constantine snarled. He closed his eyes. "Sorry. Anyway...""...hijack a soul," Angela prompted.Hearing that, the manager glanced at them from a rack of cups, raising her eyebrows."Yeah. They pull something like that," Constantine said, leaning closer to Angela, not quitewhispering, "and I deport their sorry assess right back to Hell...." He wondered if he should goon. He was giving her false hope that he had the power to help - but it seemed important that sheunderstood everything.Somehow he knew they were in this together, he and Angela. He'd felt it on the street, withthe winged demons almost within reach. And when she'd brought him the water, with barely amurmur. They both felt it. It was like musical notes converging to make a harmonious chord.And to a mystic like Constantine, everything was made up of vibrations. He and Angelaharmonized on a vibratory level. Gut feelings again intuition with a special crackle of somethingextra, a quality that seemed to resonate of destiny, and, just maybe, of help from on high....You didn't ignore feelings like that, any more than you could ignore the current of a powerfulriver. You paddled with it, angled to use it, and let it sweep you to the side that you wanted to goto. Life itself as magic.How does someone escape Hell? she'd asked him. They couldn't, of course. He really ought