Page 49 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
He nods. “It’s all I heard.”
I wonder how many people are missing from the bar. A demon attacked us outside, but he could have been there to scare people away. Then again, maybe he was meant to infect more people with the war sickness.
Zeke points at a small television on the crowded desk. “Is that CCTV Pete? Mind if we take a look?”
Pete stares into his glass of water.
I join Zeke at the security station. It’s not the latest technology but has a hard drive containing about a week’s worth of data. I use the computer mouse to click on the most recent file and bring up the first video.
My eyes widen at the bloody scene. “This was time-stamped a day ago. Look, the bodies were already there.”
“Go back further,” Zeke murmurs, leaning in beside me.
We systematically go back in time until we find a video with movement. The day starts off with the usual people milling about the bar. It was two days ago. Before I watch any further, I glance at Pete. I’m surprised his body hasn’t shut down already. Zeke must be thinking the same thing because he murmurs quietly into my ear, “We’ll make an anonymous call to the authorities when we leave.”
I nod and scan the CCTV footage until we reach the moment blood starts spraying. I rewind a little and hit play. Sound filters in, and I quickly press pause. Shit. I didn’t expect this older system to have audio functionality.
“Pete shouldn’t hear,” I mumble to Zeke.
“I’ll take him outside. He should be there when help arrives anyway.” Zeke rubs the back of his neck and then says quietly for my ears only. “We can’t be here when they do. I’m not supposed to be in the country. I had warrants out for my arrest when I left. The Vatican said they’d sort it out, but I never confirmed.”
“You telling me they could arrest you?” The words feel hollow in my mouth.
He nods.
My brow furrows. He’s a wanted man. An outlaw.
While I’ve had the Hildegard Sisterhood covering my tracks for my misdeeds, Zeke was alone until he found Wesley. With Team Saint, he managed to stay clear of prison, but now we’ve forced him to reacquaint himself with old contacts. I hope this mission is worth it.
I don’t know what Zeke and I are to each other anymore, but I know that if we’re separated again before I figure it out, I’ll never forgive myself. We’ll have to leave here and erase evidence we were here. Then I’ll get Tawny to check the police records and confirm if the Vatican actually followed through with its promise to clear Zeke’s records.
“You got a back entrance, Pete?” I ask.
No answer.
Zeke ventures further into the narrow office space where kegs and other supplies are stored.
“Found it,” he shouts from somewhere behind the kegs. A door creaks open. A breeze filters in.
After Zeke returns and guides Pete out, I sit on the office chair and hit play. The sooner we get this information, the sooner we can leave.
Loud music and chatter fill the air. It almost makes the conversation inaudible. The security camera is over the office door. It captures the length of the bar and most of the room—all the way to the wall at the back where patrons surround the glowing jukebox. Above the crowd at the bar, the front door opens and then closes. A dark head cuts through the crowd like a shark’s fin in water.
Twenty-One
Asmodeus
Iwipe my taloned hands on the barmaid’s apron, stand, and admire my handy work. The woman makes high-pitched squeaks and twitches, but I have what I need. Her blood courses through my veins.
I shut my eyes and focus on her whirling ancestral information flooding my consciousness—there are generations of it... at least thirty. So much more time has passed while I was in my stony prison than I realized.
Millions of Sarah’s descendants are now alive. It will be nigh on impossible to track them all down. My only option would be to wipe out the entire world.
I smile. Why not? A little chaos is always fun.
My nose crinkles as a sudden whiff of sulfur arises from somewhere. My eyes open in time to see the barmaid convulse. The human body is so pitiful and without dignity in the end. No matter who they are, how much influence or money they hold, they all piss their pants and emit all sorts of stink.
Disgusting. I dust my hands and get ready to leave, but then her head twists toward me as if she still maintains control of her motor functions, despite half of her brain leaking onto the terracotta floor.
