“Are you complaining, preacher?”
Laurie scoffed. “Someone has to.”
“Once this is over, see where your complaints get you. Now come on, if we want to do anything more than share a grave—”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Laurie flushed and wrapped his scarf around his neck—an old, endearing habit. He smiled, nervous and hopeful. “Let’s go get the son of a bitch.”
Laurie’s chapel blazed to life with oil lamps—two at each front pew, and one at the pulpit, the rest spilling into the parsonage corners. Decker fixed the doors, barring the broken side with wood and iron bands in preparation for a barricade.
Bottles and jars clanked across the parsonage floor—the only large part of the chapel not rotted away from Elias’s grave—and Sister Inez spread out metal and wood containers of incense and spices. The ritual demanded closeness to the curse’s source.
If Lee’s spies were correct, Elias drew close. Alone. Decker didn’t know what was more concerning: a single man with unknown power that had already devastated the town from within the grave, or an army. He and Willa had experience with the latter, but he never thought they’d be taking up arms together again. He couldn’t ask for better allies.
“Piece of shit—” Safine swore, powdered rattlers spilling into the cracks of the floor.
Decker knelt next to her and brushed the grains into a small pile, funneling it back into the basket. “Don’t worry about him. We’ll keep him distracted until you’re done.”
“We could die.” Sister Inez glanced up from the symbols on the floor to dip her brush in a pot of charcoal paint. “If this is not correct.”
Very optimistic, Sister.
“I have faith in Laurie,” Decker said, watching him. He lit the last lamp on the pulpit and blew out the match.
“Faith won’t keep us alive.” Sister Inez returned to the angular, sharp symbols beginning to form a circle around the room, passing under Laurie’s sagging bed and rounding the corners. “It will help, but we’re on our own.”
“And that’s why Willa’s on the roof with a gun.” Safine viciously jabbed the pestle into the mortar, fragrant herbs puffing up around her as she ground tiny, dusty flowers into powder-blue. “He won’t get in,” she said, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself.
There was enough to fall back on, but doubt still wormed into Decker’s mind. There was no way of knowing Elias’s capabilities until they were in the thick of it. “We won’t—”
“Decker!” Laurie’s cry rang through the chapel. “He’s here.”
He ducked through the quilt separating the parsonage from the sanctuary and joined Laurie at the window. Through the darkness, a light bobbed in the hills. Then another. And more, like a dozen winking fireflies.
Decker squinted. The light from the lamps hazed his eyes, but he’d recognize the form anywhere. “Don’t shoot!” he called up to the roof as he leapt down the chapel steps.
His breath hung in front of him when he stopped at the edge of town, finally able to see into the red night. The lanterns hovered.
“You came back,” Decker said.
Mr. Gibson smiled, his teeth gleaming. “I don’t always know what’s goin’ on here, but your wife helped my cattle, and you’ve helped an awful lot. My family’s here to help.”
Decker never thought he’d come back to town after the rancher saw them for their true selves. He wouldn’t have blamed him for it. Other forces might be at work besides just goodwill. The two kids at the head of the pack looked utterly at ease with the town—maybe they held their own secrets.
Taking Mr. Gibson’s broad hand, Decker shook it and nodded at Callie. She’d come ready for anything, her coily hair tied up under a patterned scarf, and a rifle slung across her back.
“We’re all real good shots. If that’s what you’re needin’,” she said, waving at the ten children behind her; some looked exactly like the couple, and the rest were a mismatched group as if the Gibsons had opened their door to anyone who needed a home. All of them shouldered their weapons like they knew how to use them.
“We’ll take any help you offer,” Decker said, clapping Gibson on the back and murmuring thanks under his breath.
Willa peered over the edge of the roof. “Head to the saloon, Lee will find a place for you.” Gibson brightened at the mention of his friend, and his family disappeared down the blustery street.
“See anything down there with your monster eyes?” Willa called down to him.
He cast a baleful look back to her. “Nothing for you to shoot at.”
“Damn shame. Finger’s getting itchy.”
“Hold off until you can hear him start preachin’ at you.”
