บท 52: Oh, Hell No

Everyone looked at Longinus whose face hardened, that’s if a stone can get stonier, under their gaze. He pulled an object from beneath the collar of his shirt. He gripped it in his hand so tightly I expected him to bleed. He finally opened his palm and held the object out for everyone to see.

In his hand, he clasped a spearhead, the center point about four inches long and deadly, its surface mottled with the patina of age. “I vow to you, the devil himself would have to pry this from my cold, dead hands to rid me of the weight of this burden. And that cannot happen.” The fire I’d seen when we first came into the room flashed in Longinus’ eyes.

His passion was admirable, but pointless. I grunted and rolled my eyes.

“Yes?” Cornelius asked, while Longinus clenched his jaw.