If Grey had slapped the monk he could not have shut him up more completely or put a deeper hurt into the man’s eyes. Brother Joe backed away from Grey as if he was a leper, but the monk lingered at the doorway and drew the sign of the cross in the air between them. Whether it was a blessing or if he was warding off the darkness inside Grey was up for interpretation. The monk turned and banged the door shut behind him.
Grey turned to the others. “Anyone want to fry my grits for being too hard on him?”
“He’s a good man,” said Jenny, “but I was about a half step away from punching his lights out.”
Saint nodded. “I quite like the fellow. Always have. But…” He shrugged and spread his hands. “We don’t share the same views on what you might call a cosmological level.”
“And I’m a red heathen,” said Looks Away dryly. “He’s been trying in vain to save my soul for years.”
Grey stepped up to the table. It was covered with several machines, some of which he recognized as guns. Two Kingdom rifles and parts that looked like they might be assembled into a third. Near them was a pair of devices that were about the same weight and general shape as his Colt, but like the Kingdom guns, these weapons were made from a blend of metals — steel and silver, copper and bronze. The grips were the same smoky quartz they’d seen in quantity down in the cavern. The cylinder was encased in a metal shell that was studded with tiny garnets.
“Those look interesting,” said Grey. “What are they?”
“Those,” said Looks Away, “are Lazarus pistols.”
“Ah,” said Grey, bending over to peer at them. The weapons were beautifully made, with golden tracery along the sides and barrel.
“Pick one up,” suggested Saint. “Feel the weight.”
Grey did and immediately grunted in surprise. “It’s light. I expected it to be heavier than a regular gun.”
“The frame is made from a special alloy I developed with Mr. Nobel. Forty percent lighter than steel but eighty-two percent stronger. Dreadfully expensive, though, which makes it impractical as a building material. Ah well.”
Grey moved the gun from hand to hand, then rolled the trigger guard around his finger. He generally did not do tricks with handguns, but he wanted to get a feel for the balance. The gun was a marvel. He removed his Colt and placed it on the table, then tried the Lazarus pistol in its place. It fit very well. It flowed as he moved it between his hands and then in and out of his holster. With the reduced weight he found he could draw much faster. He nodded, reversed the gun in his hand, and offered it handle first to Saint, but the scientist shook his head.
“You’re the gunhand, Mr. Torrance. For now I think we’re better served with it in your possession. Just a loan, mind you, I’ll want it back.”
Grey almost made a joke about Saint having to pry it from his cold, dead fingers, but that was too close to a prophecy. He merely nodded.
“Ammunition?”
“Ah,” said Saint, “that’s where I think Brother Joe’s providence may actually have smiled on us. The ghost rock you brought back from Mr. Chesterfield’s house was of excellent quality. It’s already been processed, which makes it far more pure than anything I’ve dug up myself. Given time, I can make several hundred rounds for the Lazarus pistols and perhaps two dozen for the Kingdom rifles.”
“That’s not a lot if we’re about to have a war,” said Jenny.
“It’s what we have,” said Saint. “And it uses about one-eighth of the ghost rock these gentlemen brought back. Would that they had left the gold and platinum behind and brought only the rock… but, oh well.”
“Seemed like the thing to do at the time,” said Looks Away. “We wanted to have something to use to convince the townsfolk that it was time to pull up stakes.”
Saint shrugged that away. “Too late now anyway,” he said.
“What about the rest of the ghost rock?” asked Grey. “Can’t you make more bullets out of that?”
“I could, of course, but I have other plans for it,” said the scientist. “I’ll need a considerable amount of it for the Kingdom cannon. And if there’s any left, I want to see about getting some of my other little toys ready for our guests.”
“What other toys?” asked Jenny.
“Well,” said Saint, “I have prototypes of plasma mines, seismic webs, the Celestial Choirbox, a few rattlesnake bombs and—.”
“Stop,” said Grey. “None of that makes sense.”
“What are all those things?” asked Jenny.
“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t make sense to you, my dear. It’s all very technical.” The little scientist chuckled. He seemed amused by how confused he was making them, and was clearly content to be the smartest man in the room. Even Looks Away seemed mildly at sea. Grey found that he did not entirely like Doctor Saint. Not that he thought the man was corrupt or untrustworthy — just a bit of a pompous ass.
Jenny reached for the second Lazarus pistol but Saint moved to block her hand. “Oh, don’t touch that. It’s not really a woman’s weapon.”
Grey expected Jenny to fry him for that comment, but instead she pushed his hand aside and picked up the pistol. She weighed it in her hand. “I’ll bet I could do pretty well with this.”
Saint looked alarmed, but Looks Away was amused. “I have no doubts at all.”
Jenny held it with two hands and at arm’s length, sighting along the barrel, then turned slowly, aiming at various targets in the room. When the barrel swung toward the scientist, Saint uttered a small cry and scuttled sideways. “Question is what should I shoot?”
“Miss Pearl, please,” insisted Saint. “That’s too much gun for a—.”
“For a woman?” Jenny finished, then she repeated, almost move for move, the tricky gun handling Grey had done a minute ago. The weapon seemed to melt into liquid metal as it moved through her hands. Saint stared in frank astonishment. Jenny stopped the gun on a dime, the handle pointed toward the scientist. “You’re right, Doc, maybe it’s way too much gun for a woman.”
“Okay, Jenny,” said Grey mildly, taking the pistol from her and laying it on the table, “he gets the point.”
“Dear lord,” said Saint as he plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “I had no idea. How did you…? I mean, where did you…?”
“My father taught me,” Jenny said darkly. “He believed that a woman should know how to defend herself.”
“You don’t say,” murmured Looks Away dryly. He had clearly enjoyed the demonstration. He cleared his throat and turned to Grey. “You were closer than me when the worm blew up. You were unconscious almost the whole day. Are you sure you’re up for a fight?”
“Yes, I damn well am,” said Grey. “But there are four of us. Fancy weapons or not, that’s not a lot to throw at Deray.”
“We have more than that,” said Looks Away. He removed a piece of paper from his pocket and spread it out on the table. “While you were, um, recovering, I asked dear Mrs. O’Malley to make some useful lists. We have sixty-two people able and willing to fight. That includes everyone we could pull in from the farms. Just about everyone has a gun and ammunition.”
“I’ve seen some of those guns. Squirrel rifles and muzzle loaders.”
“My pa had a bunch of guns from back when we had a real farm,” said Jenny. “Seven good rifles and a dozen handguns.”
“And the weapons we took from the undead,” said Looks Away. “Another twenty-six guns — handguns and long-arms. A few of the farmers have shotguns.”
“Doc,” said Grey, “will your gadgets be enough to make up the difference?”
Saint pursed his lips. “I don’t know. If I had another week, maybe two… I could do better.”