Page 88 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
She gives instructions in Romanian to her children, and they rush to gather supplies from around the room.
“Also,” I add quickly, “Asmodeus might have learned about this village from the same man we learned it from. His name was Ludovic. Do you know of him?”
“Ludovic.” Orlov spits on the floor. “He did come here once, yes. He came with many men who plundered and defaced the old temple in the mountain. When he found no helmet, he returned to us and threatened to burn us to the ground.” He shakes his head. “Since it had been so long for us to keep this Helwing story, many here do not believe it to be true. Even we had lost faith and allowed our flowers of protection to fade and peel on the walls and windows. One of our people told Ludovic about the church and the ghost who shoots the gun.”
“He could be there now.” I frown. “Did Ludovic mention that to you, Zeke?”
“No.” He tapped his chin. “Maybe he didn’t believe it.”
“He did say he would return here.” Claudia pointed out. “He said he would bring more men and machines. They would look in the lake.”
“Maybe Asmodeus won’t come here,” I tell Zeke hopefully.
“Even if he doesn’t, Snuggles still turned up. We’re not safe here. No one is.”
I swallow. “You’re right.”
The wooden floorboards above us creak. I still. Halt my breathing. Listen hard. Another creak.Footsteps or the wood expanding and contracting?
“Someone is here?” Orlov’s eyes widen in disbelief. “But we protected the house.”
“Unless you used blood to paint the sigils, the protection might not work.”
I’m surprised they didn’t know this, but now worry about how much of their story is authentic. Whatever the case, it’s the only lead we have. We’ll have to see it through. I put the special bullet in my pocket and nod at the ammunition they’ve been making. “Will they work in normal guns or just the relic?”
Depending on the caliber, demon-killing bullets would come in handy now.
“They will only kill demons in the venerated Helwing gun.”
Shit.I scrub my face, thinking of my options.
“I have five spelled bullets in my Smiths,” I tell Zeke.
“I’ve got a few.” His jaw works as he taps his pistols and jingles his pockets. He crosses the floor and inspects one of the casings the family has been working on. “Similar markings. If used in a normal gun, they might do the same thing as mine—exorcise the demonic entity but kill the host.”
More creaking overhead disrupts sand and dust stuck between the floorboards.
“Sounds like they’re in the kitchen.” Orlov’s voice trembles.
“Hurry.” Claudia gestures for us to come to her. “We will give you what we have made for your journey.”
“We’ll stay and fight,” I insist. We can’t leave them here.
“No.” She hands me vials of something liquid to put in my backpack. “This is our destiny. It is what we have trained for all our life.”
But their protection sigils didn’t work.
Zeke and I are jostled, pulled this way and that, instructed, and lectured about the weapons. Claudia tells me about the flame retardant vials before spraying me all over with the same concoction. It’s made of the same smokey origin I can’t quite put my finger on. Paula sprays Zeke. Matei fills our bags with bullets until we can barely carry the weight. Orlov collects weapons for his family—shotguns, crossbows, and homemade grenades. Nails stick out of all of them.Jesus Christ. They mean business.
“Here.” Claudia tugs me back to face her and waggles a white lumpy gauze square in my face. It smells funny too. “This will protectyoufrom bullets.”
She yanks my top down and unceremoniously shoves it into my bra. With all that sticky, smokey gunk dripping down me, it actually stays in place. Paula shoves a similar sewn patch down Zeke’s shirt.
“Whoa.” He laughs nervously, taking over. “I got it.”
“Must stay on your skin,” she warns him.
“Got it.”
