"Wonderful," she mutters, taking mental stock of her weaponry. Her Colt is heavy against her thigh, and the pressure of the six she tucked under her belt at the small of her back suddenly seems more a comfort than it was before. She can feel the calming slither of precious metal under her boot.

"We only have one word for spirits like that in my world."

She's coming up on the statue against the far wall, her sharp eyes poring over every fold and feature.

"Demon."