Page 37 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
Every time he uses that word to describe them, I bristle. But his point is clear. Do what I must to bring the relic back.
“This trip is a good chance to do your penance,” he adds.
Telling him about the prophecy is on the tip of my tongue. But Wesley is a helluva lot smarter than me, and if he thinks Cisco isn’t ready to hear about how he’s fated to break his vows with one of thesesinningwomen, then I should probably keep that to myself.
I pull the lighter out of my pocket and flick the flint.
“You are worried about the trip, no?”
“Yeah.” I smother the lighter and crush it in my fist. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to crawl back out of that dark place again.”
He stops and faces me. The hazy twilight makes his facial expression hard to read. At first, I think he’s concerned. Then I see it’s anger.
“This is not a good place for you, Ezekiel,” he agrees. “But you are strong. You have come back before. You will do so again.”
Hearing my full name reminds me of the verse Asmodeus painted on the wall in blood. “Do you think that message on the wall was meant for me?”
“Why do you say that?”
I hesitate. “The number after it seemed personal. It’s a reference to all the... people I’ve killed.”
His eyes narrow on me. “No. I think this demon has his own path of vengeance. It is a coincidence. Perhaps just another message to confuse us. But you changed the subject.”
“Yeah, I did.”
We continue walking. He says nothing, just waits for me to speak.
“It’s bad enough I can’t quit smoking, but seeing Lei Ling—Leila—I realize I never stopped wanting to keep her safe... even from herself, if I have to. When I was that bad person, it was because I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d failed. I had nothing to live for.”
He slides me a look. We’re almost back at the abbey now. I head for the stairs, but Cisco stops me.
“You are not the same man,” he reiterates.
“But what if I’m worse now that I have something to lose again?”
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because love makes you better. This I know.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He stares into the distance but gives me nothing.
“Do you miss it?” I ask brashly, curiously. “The sex?”
His lips curve on one side, and for a brief moment, I think Wes has nothing to worry about him and this fate of ours, but then his smile drops.
“There is no pleasure,” he replies, “worth more than my service to the Lord. My penance ismolto lungo. But you, my friend. You are not a boring old exorcist like me.”
“Old.” I scoff. He barely has a wrinkle, is fitter than me, and barely a gray hair at his temples. He can’t be older than forty. Maybe younger. “Hardly.”
“Old, as in, my time for these indulgences of the flesh is long past.”
“Right,” I drawl, unconvinced. “But for the record, you’re as bad at changing the subject as me.”
He gives a hearty laugh and claps me on the back. “Come. I must drink.”
