Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

contact giving him the power to grip an invisible spirit, to do the impossible: to strangle someonewho wasn't quite there.Constantine struggled but couldn't get a grip on the scavenger's hand, couldn't seem to find away to prise him off - he was just spirit. His body back in the chair was reacting to thestrangulation of the spirit. For it was strangling too, by extension, somehow, or by suggestion.Even as he was choking, Constantine reviled himself for his amateurishness. He should haveknown better. The scavenger had been playing possum, sensing him coming closer. Perhaps thewhisperer had put the idea in his head. This could be Mammon's way of killing me through thescavenger. Maybe he'd let him follow this long just so he could set him up for this moment. Hethought he heard distant laughter from Somewhere deep and dark.This is bullshit, Constantine thought as that darkness seemed to close around his mind. Don'tgive up. Make the body speak. The body in the chair. Control it. It was choking, but if he couldjust get it to call out... He managed to sputter out the name:"Midnite!"And suddenly he felt strong hands pulling him free - as he came back into Midnite's storageroom, dropped with a thud into his mortal body. Found himself still perched on the antiqueelectric chair, gasping for breath. He nodded his thanks to Midnite."Any luck?" Midnite asked casually, looking at his watch.Luck? "That's just the word for it," Constantine muttered dryly.He felt strange, after the charge of electricity, and being out of his body. His physicality feltill-fitting, awkward, and heavy: he was uncomfortably aware of the Earth's gravity on his body.He could smell himself; tasted old tobacco and coffee in his mouth; and every ache and pain hadgone from a background grumbling to a shrieking. His clothing chafed on his skin. And heseemed to feel the tumor in his lungs quite clearly, as a defined shape branching out to eat himfrom within, like mold spreading in bread.After a few moments he was nearly himself again.Massaging his throat, thinking that he had to get to Ravenscar. To the spear. But the Sangrede Dios would be damnably well defended."Cool," Chaz said, walking in, looking around at the roomful of artifacts - exchanging stareswith Blackbeard's decapitated head.Constantine and Midnite both turned and gave him a hard look - Constantine was merelyannoyed, but Midnite's look was charged with warning. Chaz acted as if he didn't notice; he triedto blithely act as if it was perfectly normal and all right for him to be there, in Midnite's mostprivate lair."You're Papa Midnite," Chaz said, blinking at the voodoo master.Midnite scowled. "How did you get in?"Chaz shrugged. "Found my way down. I got tired of waiting up there on that ledge. I felt likefucking Gollum on Mount Doom up there. It bit the big one. Besides, I think something outthere wanted to eat me.""Nonsense," said Midnite. "It would have tasted you, taken a small bite or two at the most.""Oh. Well. That's so much better,""I take it you're with Constantine?" He looked back and forth between Chaz and Constantine."My apprentice." Constantine sighed."When he lets me be," Chaz grumbled."Your apprentice? Really?" Midnite asked, eyebrows raised. "That the best you could do?""You work with what you have," Constantine said.--Midnite had delegated the running of his zombie gladiatorial show to an underling andallowed Constantine the use of his kitchen, under his supervision - theoretically. He had long agolearned that all supervision of Constantine was at best theoretical. He watched, dubious, as