Page 87 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
The last chain falls away, and he opens the chest with a creak. Inside, a small tinder box is wrapped in gauze. He glances at me as he unwraps it, revealing a surface featuring the same red cross that’s on my Sinner uniform. The rest of the tinderbox is painted with strange leaves and flowers I’ve never seen before.
“The Hildegard Sisterhood logo.” I frown and touch it. “This is where I come from.”
“Yes.” Orlov rocks proudly on his feet. “Helwing’s wife was called Dorothea Hildegard before she married him.”
“And the plant?” I point to the flowers.
Claudia comes forward. “Is calledHelwinga. When prepared right, it can become protection against unnatural fire.”
My gaze snaps to Zeke. “A flame retardant?”
His brows lift, impressed.
“Open it.” Orlov hands me the tiny box. “Please.”
I lift the lid. Inside, a lone tarnished bullet sits on a threadbare pillow. A Romanian word is engraved onto the metal surface. It smells funny. Old. I show the cartridge to Zeke, and he translates for me.
“It saysForgiveness.”
“The prophecy.” I pull out my cell phone and scroll through pictures until I find one of Thea’s translations of Mary’s gospel.
That which was the tool of the greatest sin in passion shall be forged by saintly fire into a chamber of forgiveness against the greatest of sinners.
A chamber is the part of the gun where the bullet cartridge is loaded. Thea always warned us the translations were a little wonky. Some words are so ancient that today we have multiple variations of them. A chamberforforgiveness could mean the chamber where this bullet labeledForgivenessis placed. I slide to the next prophecy picture on my phone.
“And I saw a rider, with a mouth of flames and a heart full of vengeance, riding forth upon a black steed. His name was War, and he sought to spread his flames and burn all in his path.”
But then a voice spoke to me, saying, “Do not be afraid. For like all who repent, he who rides upon the black steed shall be forgiven, for he shall take unto himself the helmetand bridle of passion.”
“This bullet is for Asmodeus.” I show Zeke. “Orlov, does this bullet have a special purpose?”
“Yes. The holy gun was forged here and made from the helmet you seek. Bullets were made from a bridle found with the helmet. They must be used together to stop the strigoi Dracula. Only one is left, but only one is needed.”
“Orlov,” I ask, looking up at him. “Who killed Dracula? Helwing or Dorothea?”
He grins. Claudia grins. Paula and Matei grin. They point to an ancient, leather-bound journal on the bookshelf. A faded red cross is painted on the cover.
Claudia says, “No one believed a woman to be so strong in those days, but we have the true story here... in her own words.”
“And all this”—I point to the herbs and weapons—“is based on what Dorothea wrote?”
Paula rushes over to collect the book and hands it to me. “She wrote much. Including how to make more bullets.” She frowns. “Not so magical as the one you have, but they will kill demons.”
“We have made you many demon-killing bullets.” Matei proudly swipes his hand over the ammunition table where a reloading machine sits, along with herbs, engraved casings, and gunpowder.
I look back at the journal. It’s all in Romanian, but the diagrams tell the story of a monster hunter of a demon with black eyes and wings and a tail. It looks eerily like the demonic form Asmodeus took at the bar. I turn a few pages and find more demons. More names. More protections and wards. And finally, I find a diagram of the gun. Time slows as I study every detail. It looks similar to Zeke’s long-barreled Colt Lightnings. They’re double-action. This might be single. I’ll have to cock the hammer with each bullet I fire. Six chambers. The holy nails of the cross stick out of the barrel at odd angles like thorns. No. I squint, looking harder. I think the nails contain the barrel, maybe even penetrate.
I can’t understand the inscription, but going by some other small diagrams outlining a process, I think the gun barrel and chamber was forged from the helmet. The spiky nails on top are the nails that Constantine used as decorative validating proof of this divinity.
“That’s it,” I breathe reverently. It’s the relic we’re after. This journal had the information the entire time. We might have been prepared for Lilith if something like this existed at the Sisterhood. “I can’t believe Dorothea isn’t mentioned in the Sisterhood archives. I’ve never heard of her.”
“As I say, we are the secret keepers of this story.” Orlov bows his head. “And, when you read her journal, you will see she argued much about her Catholic faith with her Lutheran husband. She stopped Dracula but was mortally wounded. They fought before she left on her hunt. Distraught, Helwing buried his wife in the church crypt, along with her gun. But he returned here with her teachings and the remaining bullet. He instructed our ancestors to hang the picture of the Pope and said one day, one like his wife would come for her things. After that, he wanted nothing to do with this story.”
Time to let this family know everything. “Orlov, the demon prince Asmodeus is hunting us. He is very powerful and dangerous. He knows we’re after a weapon that will kill him. He looks like this”—I find the page and tap the demonic diagram—“and I don’t think he’s far behind us.”
“We think a possessed toy might be leading them here.” Zeke scratches his head. “I know that sounds strange, but for years it haunted Leila with fires as a child. It somehow turned up at our cabin here, even though we’re both certain we left it behind.”
“Mmhm.” Claudia’s eyes flash. “Then we must destroy it.”
