Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

Chaz just nodded. He was content to "wait here."He didn't want to go any farther. He definitely wasn't ready. Not today.He watched Constantine descending, down and down, getting smaller and smaller in thedistance, and finally vanishing.Chaz felt a chill breeze lap at him from those impossible, infinite spaces. It seemed to snuffleat him, to taste him, to consider whether or not he might belong to the darkness it had come from.Chaz turned - and found that the door was shut. And that there was no knob on this side. Noway to open it.The curious breeze snuffled at the back of his neck. ...Chaz huddled back against the wall, crouching, clutching his knees.After a moment he called out, "Uh... Constantine? Hey, yo, uh - say, man, do I have to uh... Imean... Constantine?"No response. His voice was swallowed up by the depths.--Midnite was wearing his black Borsalino hat with the wide brim; his shirt was open at thechest. Doing some last-minute paperwork at his desk, before going out somewhere, Constantineguessed.At this hour, maybe he was going to the Special Stage, where his gladiatorial events took place- a highly secret and secretive show for Hollywood's most decadent elite, another uniqueentertainment project from the voodoo impresario. And its audience included many of Hell'shalf-breed Elite too - often as not they overlapped with the Hollywood set. The gladiators werezombies, usually, using knives and machetes and sometimes chain saws against clubs with nailssticking out of them. Convenient recruiting, Midnite being the master of a small army ofzombies. In the old days he'd brought Haitian zombies with him to New York and L.A., butlately he'd been converting washed-up fashion models and former soap-opera actors andproducers of failed reality-TV shows - people who'd gotten into debt at his gaming tables, onLevel Seven; they seemed to convert to the Walking Dead with such ease it was like they weremostly zombie already."Got a zombie fight set up to regale L.A.'s royalty?" Constantine asked, marshaling hisstrength.He ignored the cold fury in Midnite's eyes, but wasn't surprised by it. Constantine was notsupposed to be here. If he was here without permission, then as far as Midnite was concerned,Constantine was a burglar. The bouncer had had orders to say that he was wrong about the cardno matter what he said."Always found the zombie fights sickening," Constantine went on, lighting a cigarette."Worst thing about them's when they tear each other apart without feeling anything. Made mesick to watch that. I mean, they're trailing entrails and brains and still snapping at each other'sthroats. Strangling one another with intestines - but feeling no pain. Seems like pain gives yousome of your humanity. Lately I'm feeling human." He paused to reflect, glowing out a cloud ofblue smoke. "The local movie agents seemed to enjoy watching numb mutual butchery, however.Old home week for them, I guess."Constantine looked at the orrery, trying to misdirect Midnite's attention that way as heclamped the cigarette in his mouth and put one hand under his coat and around his back, wherehe'd hung the Holy Shotgun from a strap.But Midnite saw the motion. "Have you lost what little mind you had?" Midnite demanded,rising from his desk. "Forcing your way in here... and armed!"And his hands were moving, fingers spread open, at his sides, seeming to draw power from theair - Constantine could see the energies spiraling in, gathering for Midnite's attack."Don't!" Constantine said, snapping the Holy Shotgun up and aiming it at Midnite's head.Midnite glared. But he knew they were at an impasse - that gun was made of a relic, and so