Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

They went down a hall, to the end, where Midnite opened another door. Midnite remarkedmusingly:"That little shit" - meaning Mammon - "has been trying to climb out of his father's shadow foreons."Midnite flipped a switch, illuminating a high-ceilinged, dust-coated storage room - it couldhave almost been a museum except that its "exhibits" were so jumbled and cluttered together."Whoa," Constantine said, recognizing some of the artifacts. Some were Christian relics,some voodoo, some Ifa, some Santeria, some Hermetic, some Egyptian - and some unclassifiable.Constantine looked at the body of a man - apparently sleeping, though his chest wasmotionless - in a glass case. He wore a coarsely woven robe with a hood, a rope around hismiddle, sandals. There was a scent of flowers around the case."A saint?" Constantine asked. "Which one?"'I’m embarrassed to say I don't know," said Midnite. "But I know he was a saint because hisbody has never decayed, though he is quite dead, in this world. And that scent of flowers, ofcourse. I believe him to be about, oh... thirteenth century of the Common Era, perhaps."Constantine glanced at Midnite, then back at the saint. "You see the power of this Christianfaith - but you don't consider, you know...?""Converting? Vo'doun is a kind of amalgamation of Christianity and the magic of the old godsof Africa…" He shrugged. "But it's true I'm no Christian. Still it's all one in the end, as youknow: The same rules apply. You can go to the hell of Vo'doun for the same things."Looking around, Constantine shook his head in admiration. "Some powerful, valuable stuffhere. I'm surprised you don't have it in a vault with like big combination locks or something.Laser movement detectors. Trapdoors with spikes.""It is quite well protected. There are no fewer than seven murderous spirits guarding thisroom. Two of them are the spirits of Richard Ramirez and Charles Manson-""Waitaminnut, those guys are still alive.""Their bodies are walking around in prison, yes."Midnite grinned wolfishly. "But I took their souls away long ago. And if you had not beenhere with me, within my field of protection, they'd have tom your head off your shoulders andsucked your spirit out the rag-end of your neck.""About now, they're welcome to it," Constantine muttered. He felt like crap. The cancer waswearing him down again. His chest throbbed where Midnite had struck him. And worry aboutAngela was chewing away at his mind. He crossed the room, putting off his encounter with TheChair a few moments - it wasn't something he was eager for - and looked over a cross of silverthat somehow he associated with St. Anthony, the great fighter of demons. Near it was a big jarwith a bearded, shaggy, fairly well-preserved human head in it; the head turned to watch him ashe went by."That is Blackbeard the Pirate's head," Midnite said, with simple pride of ownership.There were human hands cut off at the wrist, with candles tipping their upthrust fingers - noordinary voodoo artifact, they would be the hands of someone famous, some person of power.There was a jar full of what appeared to be miniature people, dancing around hysterically; therewere several mummies, sarcophagi, a box of relics from assorted Muslim saints, and...A set of Archie jam jar glasses. Constantine carefully lifted one up. "A full set?" he asked."No," Midnite said, with regret. "No Jughead. I've tried eBay. All the stores. No luck."Midnite pulled a tarp off a humped shape in a corner. Dust flew. Somewhere in the room, aghost laughed nastily as the chair was revealed: the electric chair from Sing Sing prison.Constantine swallowed. "Forgot how big it was."Midnite nodded. "Two hundred souls passed through this wood and steel at Sing Sing.""Yeah." One of those souls, Constantine knew, had dabbled in magic, and had tried to create adoorway of escape while in the chair. The spell went awry, crackled to another level when theelectricity came on... and its effects still clung to the grisly artifact.