Page 53 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
My boot hits the dirt outside and sticks. I gasp, glancing down. “Blood.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve left bloody footprints everywhere.”
“A million other footprints are in there, too,” he points out.
“But Pete saw us.” Dread drops like a stone in my gut, and I stare through the darkness along the bar’s external wall to the parking lot. Pete most likely waits for help to arrive on the porch steps. Adrenaline pumps through my system as the only likely scenario to fix this circles in my mind.
“Shit.” Zeke scrubs his face. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
But we don’t have time. He called the police. I walk past him toward the front porch.
“Leila?” Zeke jogs to catch up. “What are you doing?”
“He’s a loose end, Zeke. And the first lesson I learned at the Sisterhood was loose ends need to be cut.”
He pulls me to face him. “You’re actually considering killing him?”
“We can’t afford to have police chasing us down. You sat him on the porch, where he probably read our license plate. We deleted the only evidence proving our innocence. Coupled with our faces, names, and bloody footprints in the bar, if he snitches, then the authorities will be on our doorstep before the night’s end.”
He looks at me as though I’m a monster. “My God, they’ve done a number on you.”
“Don’t judge me,” I return. “You’re a killer too.”
“But I have remorse,” he spits. “I don’t kill innocents, and I regret every ounce of blood I spilled.”
His words steal my ability to breathe.
“No one deserves it, Zeke. But sometimes it’s a mercy,” I whisper.
Distant sirens bleed into the night. My adrenaline spikes and I reach for my katana, ready to swallow my humanity and cut a loose end, but before I can unsheathe the blade, Zeke swears and grabs something behind me. The smell of kerosine scourges the air.
“Then we’ll burn it down,” he growls. “Get Pete to a safe distance.”
My feet are frozen to the spot. The only thing running through my mind is the wordfire.
“Go,” he shouts.
Hating that I’m useless when this infernal beast rears its ugly head, I swallow my pride and continue to the front porch. I must look frightened because Pete starts whimpering when I round the corner with my hand still on the sword. He’s standing at the railing, ready to bolt.
I hold up my palms as I climb the steps. “We need to get you moved closer to the road. The bar is on fire.”
“On fire?” He gapes, glancing over my shoulder.
The smell of smoke reaches us. I should be used to it by now, with all the fires I’ve seen in my life, but it still makes my insides watery at the thought of what comes after that smoke.
The distant clouds flash blue and red—signaling the police are almost here. I help Pete down the porch steps just as Zeke jogs back around the corner. I don’t know what to tell Pete, but Zeke gets down on his knees and speaks softly with the man for a moment. We quietly say farewell and leave him for the authorities to find. Then we get in the car and leave.
Zeke drives with laser focus, his eyes straight ahead and his hand gripping the wheel. In the small cabin, there’s nowhere to hide from his disapproval of me. I can feel it like the flames of the fire we left.
I scratch my inner wrist. Two seconds later, the itch is back, and I scratch again.Fuck’s sake.I’m getting hives. Zeke’s hand whips out to grab my hand before I cut my flesh into ribbons. I shake him off but turn my glare toward the darkness outside. I don’t even know why I’m so irritated. It’s not like I have to defend my actions to Zeke.
He thinks I have no remorse.I snort to myself. Zeke glances over and then scowls at the road. Ihaveremorse. I have it in spades. But sometimes, we Sinners must draw a line in the sand.
I close my eyes and see the bloody corpses littered over the bar, their dead soulless eyes, staring blankly. That’s the line. That’s the part we must never forget so that we do what’s necessary to save others.
We can’t hesitate in the face of evil. If we get the chance, we must go in for the kill.
