Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

insects and sores and infinite regrets.He was becoming corrupted by being here, he supposed. The boss wouldn't like that.Still, it was too bad, in a way, that this world would soon be just another level of Hell, andeverything pristine in it would be soiled, damaged like a raped child.Yet he would enjoy his part of the despoiling; oh yes, he would take great pleasure in it.... Allthat murder and violation and those great vast overflowing dessert bowls of suffering - it wouldbe a great consolation to him.He started to turn away from the reflection - and then turned back again. His image haddistorted slightly, had it not?Had it shown the demon he was within, for a moment? That would not do. That should not bethe case. As he watched, his human face distorted even further - the demonic true-form beneathseeming to push out, like a man pressing his real face against the lineaments of a rubber mask.The spell might be weakening. Now, what would cause that? Could it be a certaintroublesome, arrogant, heavily tattooed human who should have been dead long ago, perhaps?Balthazar did a vowel stretch, touching his face, leaning closer to the mirror. Perhaps he'dbeen mistaken....And then the skin of his face began to ripple, as if liquefying. The surface of the mirror toowas blistering, quivering within itself...And suddenly exploded outward!The fireball from the mirror carried the glass like grenade shrapnel on its shock wave,slamming into Balthazar so that he was flung through the air to thud against the wall behind him.He slid to the floor, his earthly body stunned. Flames licked around him.Flames? Fire? -"Fire!" he raged, jumping to his feet. "I was born of this!"He glared around him. Who dared?And then he saw a shadowy figure through the ragged gap where the mirror had been. Therewas an access corridor back there for plumbing repairs - and that's where John Constantine stood.Looking back at him in place of the mirror, some kind of shotgun in his hands. Constantinestaring at him from the very place Balthazar's reflection had been.For a moment it was as if Constantine were a photo negative of Balthazar's mirror reflection,mocking him."How's he doing it?" Constantine asked calmly. He kicked away a bit of the remaining crustof wall and stepped into the bathroom.Constantine felt a short rush of satisfaction, seeing Balthazar with his suit ripped, smoking, inthe wreckage of his smarmy executive bathroom. And pissed off. If you made him mad, thatmeant you were getting to him.But it wasn't nearly enough - Balthazar had Hennessy to answer for; and Beeman. And howmany others?"How's Mammon planning to cross over?" Constantine demanded. Adding: "You half-breedpiece of shit!"Balthazar crouched to leap at him - but Constantine was already throwing an ampule of holywater at Balthazar, and it struck him square in the face. Most of that face burned off, the holywater melting away the spell of deception - for Hell's deceptions are innately unholy. Theleathery, demonic face of one of the higher demons of Hell grinned sharp-toothedly back athim....Balthazar stretched his mouth to make more of the old, human face fall away."Ahh - that's better. Au natural. "And then he leapt at Constantine - knocking the gun aside, body-slamming his human prey.Constantine was propelled back into a wall, with the demon's clawed, leathery hand tighteningaround his neck, crushing his esophagus, spots flaring in front of his eyes so that all he could seewas the demon's triumphant leer....