“Lord Almighty,” the mercenary muttered under his breath. “The fellers in these parts sure got a taste for green fruit. Seems like an apple don’t hardly get a chance to turn red and hit the ground ‘fore somebody snatches it right off the tree!”
The girl stopped dead in her tracks and gawked at him. “I have heard that the Fallen often speak in strange tongues. Is that what you’re doing? Speaking in strange tongues?”
Leroy laughed outright at the question. “With all the old geezers in this place marryin’ a whole stable of gals young enough to be their great grandkids, you think I’m the strange one?”
Violet made no reply. She seemed even more confused.
Hunt thought it a waste of time to pursue the question, so he changed the subject. “Given that you’re a grown up married lady and all, ain’t that even more reason to keep the likes of you away from the likes of me?”
They resumed walking.
The girl shook her head. “Oh no. Father Abraham says that although you are one of the Fallen, you can be trusted.”
“Now see, that’s another thing. Maybe you Nephilim ought to quit referrin’ to anybody who ain’t you as Fallen. It don’t set right with us normal folks.”
“It doesn’t?” the girl sounded shocked.
“Shoot, it’s kind of like callin’ somebody a leper. That ain’t no way to make friends and influence people. You know what I’m sayin’?”
“No,” Violet replied simply. “I’m having trouble understanding most of what you’re saying.”
Thankfully, their awkward conversation was brought to an abrupt end when Violet stopped in front of a closed door. “Here we are.”
For once, Leroy felt relieved to be in the presence of sour old Abe.
Violet escorted him into the diviner’s office and vanished soundlessly.
The old man was already hunched over his desk scowling at a piece of paper under his nose. “Hello, Mr. Hunt,” he said, never taking his eyes off the paper.
“Howdy, boss.” The mercenary leaned against the door jamb and twirled his hat brim idly, waiting to get his employer’s full attention. He let his eyes wander over the bound volumes of sermons crammed into every available inch of bookcase on the walls. The old geezer sure loved to hear himself talk. He even made somebody write it all down later to remind himself.
Metcalf finally looked up from his paperwork. “I’ve had a very busy day thus far, Mr. Hunt, so I would appreciate it if we can keep this interview brief.”
“Suits me just fine,” Leroy agreed.
“Take a seat,” Metcalf instructed.
Leroy was having none of it. He wasn’t about to crouch down in one of those low-slung visitor chairs where you had to crane your neck to look up at the old preacher like he was sermonizing in a pulpit. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll stand.”
“Very well,” Abraham looked up at him for a change. “Please state your business then.”
Leroy chuckled appreciatively. “Cut to the chase, huh? I like that in a feller. Happy to oblige. I come here today to find out when we gonna be movin’ out.”
The diviner raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Hunt elaborated. “When you gonna send me and your boy Daniel out to find that next doodad? Since I been coolin’ my heels for a couple of months now, I thought I’d pay a personal call to find out what’s what.”
Metcalf sighed, apparently vexed to be reminded of the delay. “My son Daniel is having some difficulty translating the clue to the location of the next relic.”
“Why, shoot,” Leroy dismissed the objection. “That never stopped him before. He usually just stumbles around whinin’ how he don’t know where to find the thing til he practically trips over it.”
“That hardly strikes me as a sound strategy, Mr. Hunt.”
“It don’t strike me that way neither, sir, but I have found through sad experience that it’s the way your young ‘un operates and he gets the job done just the same.” He tried to keep a tone of urgency out of his voice when he asked, “So how’s about we saddle up and ride anyhow? Maybe tomorrow or the next day?”
Metcalf’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I never recall you being quite so keen to escort my son on these quests before, Mr. Hunt. Usually, I can convince you to accompany him only after a series of pointless objections on your part.”
Leroy didn’t feel inclined to share the reason for his newfound eagerness with his employer. His private plan for the relics meant that he needed to stick close to Daniel until the kid had brought them all home to his daddy. Then Hunt would cash in his chips and take the lot. Maybe leave a few corpses behind too for good measure. But that was for him to know and for them never to find out. Instead, he laughed lightly. “Well, sir, what can I say? The Lord has shown me the error of my ways. I see now that you all are doin’ God’s work, and I aim to help in that noble enterprise.”
Metcalf seemed to buy the flimsy excuse. Religious types were suckers for the reformed sinner routine. “All in good time, Mr. Hunt. All in good time. My son is spending every waking moment trying to make sense of the heathen gibberish that will point the way to the next relic. As soon as the Lord blesses him with a revelation, I will summon you again.”
“What you all expect me to do in the meantime?” Leroy asked in a slightly peevish tone.
“I expect you to wait, Mr. Hunt. Wait and pray.”
Leroy felt a keen loathing to do either one, but he suppressed the urge to gag. Instead, he tipped his hat and said, “You got it, boss. Wait and pray.”
Chapter 4 – Leavers’ Tryst
Hannah Curtis cast one furtive glance behind her. The yard was quiet. Nobody else was about. She noiselessly let herself into a storage building tucked into a forgotten corner at the back of the compound. She
