Page 66 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
My gaze darts to the three men walking behind Asmodeus. They’re the bikers from the bar. My heart stops... No, that’s not completely true. Demonic features cover their own. The monstrous and contorted faces are a macabre mask only I can see with my supernaturalsight. One man has a feral, animalistic visage with whiskers and burning embers for eyes. Yet, strangely, Asmodeus still appears as human, despite what I glimpsed on the CCTV.
“Possessed,” I warn Zeke under my breath. “All three.”
He moves almost imperceptibly, but I hear the metallic sound of his pistol cocking.
Wait... did Zeke say Puck? As in, the old bully from our group home? I shift my gaze back to the redheaded biker’s face. He’s indistinguishable to me from the demon inside, so it’s hard to place the features. But it can’t be a coincidence Zeke called him Puck.
Once that part of my brain clicks, I recognize something far more troublesome than a childhood bully. Puck is possessed by the demon with whiskers and burning eyes. Could this be the same demon who killed Zeke’s sister? Didn’t it look like a leopard on two feet with burning eyes?
“Flauros possesses Puck,” I mumble, twisting on Zeke’s lap to look him in the eyes.
His gaze darts between Asmodeus and the biker. He can’t see what I can, but he’s undoubtedly assembling the same puzzle pieces. This is too much of a coincidence to ignore. Zeke’s bronze complexion pales.
Asmodeus points between Flauros and us. “You know each other? What are the odds of that?”
“What do you want?” I growl.
“Same thing as you, most likely.”
To kill him? I highly doubt that. Then I see his black gaze swing to a red-eyed Ludovic.Shit. Asmodeus wants the helmet. Of course, he does.
“What’s going on here?” Andrei stands up, sways, and scowls. “Who invited you?”
The sheikh shouts to Asmodeus, “Come inside, my friend. The game is not done.” Rosy-cheeked and glassy-eyed, he gestures at me. “The bossy lady is making this more fun and giving us all her money.”
Zeke is a rock beneath me. His hand splays on my stomach, holding me to his front. His breathing is shallow but steady. He still holds the cocked pistol in his right hand down by the seat.
“Fantastic.” Asmodeus barely glances at me as he rubs his hands together gleefully. His eyes are locked onto the card game like each piece is a diamond. “I, too, have money to burn. Of course, unless anyone objects to another player?”
Looks pass around the table. Ludovic glowers at the intrusion but holds his tongue. The Southern tycoon is falling asleep at the table. The businessman is blinking at his cards—I don’t even think he heard the question. Petrov has one eye open and the other on his swaying boss. I may have overdone it with the alcohol and poison. They’ll all be lambs to the slaughter.
Andrei sits down with dollar signs in his eyes.
This is where it gets strange. Asmodeus recognized Zeke and me. Surely he knows we intend to kill him,but he walks over to greet his... friend? “I’ve beendyingto let loose a little.”
“Sit, sit,” the sheikh slurs.
Asmodeus shoves the Southerner off the seat. The man falls hard on the floor beside the table and doesn’t get up. Unperturbed, Asmodeus takes the seat, whiskey, and picks up the Southerner’s card hand. He joins the game as though he truly wants to have fun. My mind scrambles to make sense of this.
Asmodeus is the demon prince most known to fraternize with humans. Lust, parties, gambling. I recall his irritation at Lilith. This could be a temporary cease-fire. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’s after what’s inside Ludovic’s head. I know he’s our enemy and could spread his war sickness or sic his demonic minions on us at any moment. But I think he’s feeling so cocky about his power that he believes he has time to play.
He’s not wrong. I have no angelic relic. But I do have a blessed dagger strapped to my thigh and the hairpins in my hair, thanks to Zeke’s last-minute alterations.
And poison.
And one weapon all Sinners have—underestimation.
If I can calm my beating heart, I might be able to get us out of here alive.
The opportunity presents itself when, full of excitement and booze, the sheikh snaps his fingers at me and demands, “Boss lady, another round of drinks.”
My brows raise at the order. Zeke bristles beneath me. Asmodeus barely glances our way as he puffs his cigar and studies his cards, shifting their positions to suit his game. I suppose there’s no point holding onto the Madam Mina charade. That ship has sailed.
I smile sweetly at the sheikh and reply, “Of course.”
Zeke tries to stop me from standing, but I pinch him on the thigh, much like he did to me earlier. Questions are in his eyes, but I keep mine full of calm.
I’ve got this.
