Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

struggle with darkness. But there isn't anyone religion, one set of relics and rules, that decidesthings. And if you look close at them, all religions have certain basics in common. Stuff like...oh, you'll find some version of the Golden Rule in all of them. They all fit into the divine bigpicture somehow. Different symbols for the same kinds of things... and a Devil called Satan inour culture is called Iblis in the Muslim culture, or Shaytan but it's the same guy. Gabriel's calledsomething else by the Hindus. Of course, the Christians get some shit wrong - and so do, say, theNative Americans, and for that matter everyone else. Not that I have the inside track myself - Ijust know a little more than some. But you want to really know, you got to have gnosis....""Have what?"He looked wistfully at the golden, rose-tinged light that was turning the window intotemporary stained glass. "Direct knowledge of the divine essence, girlfriend, the ground of being- you need to trust God for that, see. I don't trust anyone. Or anything. Not very far."She didn't speak for a moment, as he put the petrified husk from the River of Life in his bag.Then she asked, softly, "You think you could ever learn to?""Learn to what?" But he knew. He was just stalling."Trust. Someone.""I..." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."He didn't say the rest aloud: Now that I'm dying.An uncomfortable silence, then. He felt he had to say something more. Bandage the silence."I almost trusted Beeman. So of course I had to lose him...." He felt the anger in him then. Heremembered a line from a Public Image Ltd. song:"Anger is an energy... anger is an energy!"His smile made Angela shiver. "Damned right it is," he said aloud."So you're going to kill Balthazar? Can you just kill him? What about the Balance you toldme about?""The half-breed tipped the scales when he started killing my friends. I'm just adding somecounterweight."He took down a finely inlaid Christian cross of silver and steel, oddly shaped pieces arrangedsymmetrically. He took it apart, and reassembled it in a new shape. The Holy Shotgun. Whathad been its base was now a drum for its ammunition. A crosspiece that had been the arms of thecrucifix now projected at right angles from the gun barrel as an additional handhold."That's a gun of some kind?" she asked, with a professional interest."A special gun. Sort of like the Ace of Winchesters. Remind me to tell you about thatsometime."It was still cruciform in shape, but it broke down like a shotgun when he put the special roundinto it. He turned and fired it down the long length of the apartment; the gun roared and theshotgun pellets left a trail of flame before blasting apart a carton of Lucky Strikes.