Page 76 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“I don’t mind.” I smile. “I enjoy working in the kitchen.”
Claudia gives a curt nod and directs me to dish up the soup into six waiting bowls. It looks like chicken soup, but she called itciorba radau?eana.I think it’s the same thing.While I’m ladling, I can’t help but notice the polenta mix she’s busy with. Looks like dessert. As soon as I’ve served the soup to the hungry people at the table, I’m back and inquiring about the dish. It’s sweet, rich, and smells delicious.
When I taste it, I moan at the burst of flavor. “Please tell me you will give me the recipe,” I ask, grinning at her, then nodding back to where Zeke sits with the others. “He needs more meat on his bones. I will bake this for him.”
She gives me a judgmental once-over. “You must eat too. Even the soup.”
“Of course!” I realize I’ve not had a spoonful.
“But yes, he is not fit for this weather.” After she puts the polenta dish in the oven, she collects a basket of bread in one hand and gives it to me. We settle at the table to eat. The food is so pure and good that I feel nothing but satisfaction.
Claudia returns to the kitchen and brings over the second course—vegetables, cabbage rolls, and stew. She dishes up an extra serving for Zeke with a look that says he needs to eat it or else.
I grin as I rip a chunk of bread in two and soak up the stewy sauce. “This is delicious,” I say to him.
His eyes are a little glassy from the pálinka as he replies, “I’m in heaven.”
Our eyes lock for a moment. Beneath the table, he slides his hand over my thigh, then passes his compliments to the chef.
“Eat, eat,” she says, motioning for him to stop chatting and to feed himself.
We’re halfway through the meal when I remember to ask about the folklore tales surrounding the nearby temple.
“Ah yes,” Orlov says. “We have many visitors for the temple. Is old and dangerous so you must be careful for when you journey, yes?”
I nod. “We are always careful. But tell us, the stories point to this temple, but no one ever finds the helmet.”
Orlov and his wife share a look before he says, “Is for a good reason.”
“It is?” Now I’m intrigued. “What is it?”
He leans in and raises his brows dramatically. “Ghosts haunt the temple. There are dangerous traps that steal the soul of anyone who enters.”
Traps. I can handle that. Ghosts? I’m sure they’re not real. Just a scare tactic to frighten away anyone who might want to steal what is inside. But, interestingly, no one has found it yet.
“You said others have been here to search?”
“Yes. They go in—” He gestures one way through the air. “They don’t come out.”
“They are searching the wrong place, anyway.” Paula shakes her head with derision.
The family goes quiet. I catch Orlov slicing his daughter a disapproving glare and she ducks her head.
“What is the right place?” I ask.
“It was the frozen lake by the temple.”
They all laugh as if it’s the most obvious reason, but I feel as though it’s a cover-up. The laughter is too forced. Orlov adds a story about a prideful soldier who drove his men into the water to prove that he could make them walk on it because he wore the protection of their savior. But they were weighed down by the iron they carried, and most did not survive. They are still resting at the bottom to this day. I join them, smiling, but can’t say I share their humor. How the hell are we supposed to search the bottom of a frozen lake?
“Would you like to hear more stories?” Orlov asks.
“Sure.”
“We have a story in our village,” Orlov says, turning his tone somber and dramatic. “Many years ago, a Poland pastor came to our tiny home, searching for something touched by the Lord to help him fight against evil.”
My neck prickles with anticipation. “Did he find the helmet?”
Orlov shrugs. “Village does not know, only that this man hunted down the world’s most dangerous monster.”
