Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

madman, yet freighted with meaning as fully as any language.Constantine had never been in this part of the hospital, but he knew he was going the rightway. He had extended his psychic feelers - and felt the feverish rage of Hell crackling in the air,in this direction, as a firefighter feels heat on his face from a flame hidden in the wall. There -that way. The sign on the door read: MAINTENANCE.Constantine figured they were right on the edge of the spiritual black hole sucking at the heartof the hospital; a few strides more and they'd be well inside it. He looked at Chaz, wonderinghow he was going to deal with this. Constantine himself wasn't sure he could handle it - and he'dbeen to Hell itself, more than once; but his Holy Shotgun was slippery in his hands with his ownsweat.''I'm okay," Chaz said as Constantine glanced at him."I didn't ask," Constantine said.He nodded toward the door to the maintenance tunnels. Looked at Chaz inquiringly.Chaz knew what that meant. They'd agreed on what his mission would be - it was, after all,his idea. But there was more to their splitting up here than that - Constantine could have gonealone, after all.They had to split up to increase what leverage they had by coming at the enemy from twodirections. Maybe one of them could catch the demons unawares while the other one drew theirfire...The other one - whichever - might be like a goat, staked out as a lure for the wolves.Do what you have to do, Constantine told himself. There are bigger issues at stake here thana "goat", than any single human being. And maybe you'll get there in time to stop the wolvesfrom feeding... maybe.But Constantine waited. He was waiting for Chaz to make up his mind about going off on hisown. It was a decision he couldn't make for him. He couldn't order him to do it.There was a long, lonely, fate-charged moment.Constantine almost hoped he'd say no.Chaz swallowed hard - and nodded. He pushed through the door marked MAINTENANCE.Constantine almost went after him. But Chaz had insisted on coming, carrying his ownweight. He'd have to take the risks that went with going from apprentice to magician.--The light was so feeble here. Chaz seemed to hear it whimper.He was walking down a low-ceilinged corridor lined in water-beaded pipes, holes tawdrilyplugged with rags, some oozing reeking sewage. Pipes ran overhead, pipes ran to the right andleft, exuding a humid closeness that threatened to choke him; that wanted to choke him. The airwanted to kill him, he thought, the air-He caught himself hyperventilating, and thought:Get a grip, you dumb asshole. You're psyching yourself out! Take charge of yourself oryou're going to panic and drown in demon-spit!He knew that it was possible that something was attacking him, psychically: psychologicalattack was the most fundamental weapon in the demons' arsenal. They took pride, as oldScrewtape had pointed out, in allowing the humans to destroy themselves. A suggestion here, alittle numbness there, an encouragement to sleepwalk through life, and human beings could becounted on to stumble into all the holes in the road of existence.But demonic attack or just panic, it didn't matter:Fighting it was about being present enough to command himself, as Constantine and all themystical books had taught him.Chaz took a deep breath, and repeated a mantra he knew would bring on a certain degree ofalpha state. His heart rate slowed; his breathing eased. He hefted his gun and took a few stridesfarther...