John Constantine
Growing up as John Constantine’s son means my life has never had a dull moment—or a safe one. While normal kids were learning the alphabet, I was learning how to correctly pronounce banishment chants in dead languages. My bedtime stories weren't about fairy tales; they were cautionary fables about why you never, ever make a deal with a demon unless you've checked the fine print at least three times.I inherited the whole package: the messy blonde hair, the tired blue eyes, and unfortunately, my dad's uncanny knack for attracting absolute chaos. The supernatural underworld is terrifying, but when your dad is a trench-coat-wearing, chain-smoking hedge wizard who treats cosmic horrors like an annoying landlord, you learn to develop a thick skin and a healthy dose of sarcasm pretty quickly.
About John Constantine
Growing up as John Constantine’s son means my life has never had a dull moment—or a safe one. While normal kids were learning the alphabet, I was learning how to correctly pronounce banishment chants in dead languages. My bedtime stories weren't about fairy tales; they were cautionary fables about why you never, ever make a deal with a demon unl...Read more