Page 86 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
He is a man prepared for war, and he called Leila the Hunter.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I ask in Romanian.
Before he can reply, Leila says, “Your village is in danger, Orlov. This might sound weird... ” She takes in his strange military attire. “Okay, maybe not so weird going by your clothes. But I’m afraid we’ve led demons to your village. We have to protect it.”
Claudia calls from somewhere deep inside, “Shut the door. Sun is coming.”
“Come. I explain.” Orlov waves us inside, glances warily behind me at the road, and bolts the door once we’re in. “Time around dawn and dusk are most vulnerable for strigoi attacks.”
“What’s going on?” Leila asks. “Strigoi?”
I holster my gun but keep my hand on the hilt. “He thinks you’re a vampire hunter.”
“Follow me. I explain as we walk,” Orlov says. Instead of heading to the kitchen and main living area, he takes us toward the bathroom. “Strigoi are not just vampires like common perception. But evil spirits. Demon. We have been waiting for you, Vânatoare, for a very long time.”
Leila glances warily at me, and I frown.
A trap door on the bathroom floor opens. Matei pokes up his head, grinning. He also wears a floral and herbal wreath around his neck. The smell of some kind of familiar garlicky, smokey, floral bouquet wafts up from the basement.
“We have been much working for long,” Matei says, his voice cracking with excitement.
“Matei,” Orlov chides. “Let us get down.”
Matei flattens his lips, glances shyly at Leila, then disappears into the basement.
“After you, Vânatoare.” Orlov gestures for Leila to go first.
“Wait a darn minute.” I hold Leila back. “Orlov, just exactly who do you think Leila is?”
“She is the one Helwing told our ancestors would come. A holy woman hunter who will harness the weapons he created.”
“Weapons?” Leila’s eyebrow arches.
“Yes.” He nods enthusiastically. “We have much to show you.”
Leila and I share a look, both of us weighing whether to trust this new information.
“They have Enochian sigils on their doors,” I point out. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Okay,” Leila says. “I’m going down.”
Thirty-Three
Leila
The basement is some kind of doomsday bunker spanning the width beneath the entire cabin. I stand in the center of it and turn slowly, my jaw dropping as I take in my surroundings. Wooden support posts covered with nails and herb bouquets hold up the ceiling. The walls are painted with Enochian sigils between botanical illustrations. Shelves with old musty books to my right. Ammunitions and workbenches to my left. Laboratory. Antiques.
Claudia works at another table with Paula, tying wreaths and sewing bouquets between patches of white gauze. Another picture of the Pope hangs over a potbelly stove where a cauldron bubbles away. That’s where the familiar smokey aroma comes from.
“What is this place?” I ask as Zeke stands behind me.
Orlov shuts the trapdoor and climbs down to meet us, huffing from his exertion. The women stop their preparations and look at us. Matei already stares from his ammunition workbench.
“Our village and family have been keepers of Helwing’s story for generations.” Orlov points to a shelf of old books and antiques. “He left much information for defeating the strigoi when one day it would come to visit us again.”
I ask, “Is the gun here, in this village?”
“No. But something else is.” He walks to an old wooden chest beside the stove and unlocks the five padlocks holding chains. More sigils are carved into the glossy surface. My finger comes away sticky when I touch it.Curious. Orlov talks as he unlocks. “Along with being an expert in hunting monsters, Helwing was also a Pastor and botanist. He understood much of the supernatural properties of certain plants. We have kept the recipes safe within these walls. Have learned, practiced, and always told our children the stories. We had thought, perhaps, our ancestors were not right in the head when nothing came to us for years. No strigoi. No holy hunter. But... ah, yes. Here.”
