Page 1 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
Prologue
Amidst the clamor of the bustling city, a starving woman jangles her coin cup. She shouts to be heard above the din with a sense of urgency.
"Repent, sinners! War is here. The path to redemption is almost lost in darkness!"
Clouds block out the sun, shrouding the street in shadow. The woman stops and looks up. Rushing denizens crash into her back. Her coins spill onto the street, rolling until they disappear down the storm drain.
She grabs the offender by the collar and snarls,“Do you believe in second chances?”
One
The Past
Leopards didn’t crawl through third-story bedroom windows. They lived in the forest or jungle. The boy was only six, but he knew that. So when he woke in the middle of the blackest night of the year and saw the dark shadow of a large cat slink into his room and sniff around, he thought he was dreaming.
He rubbed his eyes. Blinked. But it was still there... hunting, leaving embers in its wake. A scream would wake his baby sister. She’d cried all day, and he was so tired of hearing her wails. She’d cried like this since they lost their mamma and papa. Sometimes he would put his thumb in her mouth to stop the sound. Today he did it twelve times and accidentally made her choke. The matron smacked him with a wooden spoon on his bare bottom until he couldn’t sit.
Sniffing.
Sniffing.
Sizzling.
He gasped and hid under his covers. Maybe it wouldn’t notice him. If he tried not to breathe, it might walk by, and he would wake up. Maybe if he said his prayers... but he couldn’t remember the words. All he had was the little red knotted bracelet his mother had bought his sister. She said it was for warding off evil spirits, but he’d been jealous of the gift and stole it for himself.
The fiery-eyed creature slinked around the room, its nose leaving a line of soot as it poked and prodded.It stank like rotten, burned things and horrible dreams. The sniffing stopped.Oh no. The boy clenched the charm.
He peeked over his covers and whimpered. The leopard had risen on its hind legs to look over his sister’s bed. It straightened until it looked like a man—if a man had a tail, whiskers, taloned fingers, and blazing eyes.
The boy should scream. He should say something... but... she would cry, and he hated when she cried.
“Snuggle time,” the leopard-man hissed as he picked up the sleeping baby.
“No!”
The leopard-man’s head twisted toward the boy so fast that embers spilled from his eyes and caught fire on the bed. Flames licked up its legs, burning and smoking. Leopards didn’t crawl through third-story windows, but demons did.
Two
The Past
“Go on. Go join the others.”
At the sound of the impatient voice, the boy paused the flipping of a coin over his knuckles. He lifted his head and saw the matron shoving a dark-haired girl into the group home’s courtyard.
The girl was a scrappy thing. Dark, tangled hair hung down her thin shoulders. Her dress was too big for her willowy frame. She hugged a stuffed bear to her chest. When she darted a wide-eyed look about, the boy skulked backward and hid further behind the potted plant in the foyer. She didn’t see him watching her. The boy thought she might break down and cry like all the other newcomers, but just when he thought she’d run the other way, she lifted her chin and stepped into the slate courtyard where the other children played.
Brave girl.
The boy went back to his coin—practicing rolling it over his knuckles like he’d seen the cowboys do in the Wild West movies, but then he stopped again at the sound of a voice he hated.
“Oh, what do we have here?”
“Fresh meat,” said another.
The sounds that followed were unmistakable. A little girl crying out. Shoves and grunts. Then curious hissing and snarling. More grunts and shuffling. Anger flamed the boy’s cheeks. He captured the coin and squeezed so hard it hurt.
Getting to his feet, he strode into the courtyard. The other children had her toy and were tossing it over her head.
