Spider’s Revenge (20 page)

The two of them reminded me of Fletcher and the relationship I’d had with the old man when he’d first taken me in. I’d been so grateful to Fletcher for rescuing me from the cold, hard streets that I would have done anything for him—
anything
. Sydney had the same sort of obsessive, fawning gratitude toward Gentry. I wondered why; what bad thing had happened to the girl that Gentry
had rescued her from. Maybe Finn could find out for me, since I’d asked him to look into the bounty hunter.

Curiosity. It was what was staying my hand now and keeping me from dragging Gentry into the alley and stabbing her to death. Ah, curiosity. It always got the best of me, even when I should have known better.

I should just have gutted Ruth Gentry where she sat. The bounty hunter had already proven that she was smart and dangerous. Instead of doing something stupid and pointless like staking out the police station or Bria’s house, Gentry had thought to come to the Pork Pit instead—a place where my sister was known to hang out. That showed me the bounty hunter was definitely someone to be wary of.

I let Gentry and Sydney finish their meal in peace. Eventually, they came over to the counter to pay up and leave. Somewhere along the way, Gentry had found a toothpick in one of her pockets that she’d stuck in one corner of her mouth, giving her a hillbilly air.

“That was a fine meal,” Gentry said, digging into her jeans and coming up with some small, crumpled bills.

The motion pushed back her jacket, and I spied the pearl revolver sitting in a holster on her black leather belt.

“Thanks,” I murmured, careful not to stare at the gun. “But I can’t take all the credit. Most of it goes to my cook over there.”

Gentry’s eyes flicked to Sophia, lingering on the spiked, black leather collar around her neck. She tipped her head to the dwarf. “My thanks then.”

Sophia just grunted and turned back to the stove.

While I totaled the order and made change, my eyes
strayed to Sydney. She stared at one of the glass cake stands full of sinfully sweet sugar cookies that sat on the counter. Hunger and longing filled her hazel eyes, but she bit her lip and looked away from the treats.

Her small, wistful gaze hurt worse than a knife ripping into my heart.

I remembered feeling that way once upon a time, back when I’d been living on the Ashland streets. I’d spent hours staring in through restaurant windows and longing for all the food I saw inside—food that was hot, clean, and free of the worms and maggots that littered the scraps I’d been eating out of the Dumpsters. Oh yes, I’d stood outside those restaurants, and I’d stared in, hunger twisting my stomach into knots so hard and tight that I thought they would never straighten out again.

Some sort of wild, crazy emotion seized me then, and I put Gentry’s change down on the counter. Before I knew quite what I was doing, I’d lifted the glass lid on the stand of cookies, gathered them all up, and dropped them into a white paper bag, which I shoved into the girl’s thin chest. Sydney stared down at the pig logo printed on the side of the bag, the longing in her eyes so bright and hard that it took my breath away.

“Take ’em,” I said in a thick voice. “We’re getting ready to close, and they won’t be eaten tonight.”

Surprise filled the girl’s thin face, followed by a more tremulous emotion—hope. Her hands tightened around the bag, making the paper crack and crinkle. I wondered how long it had been since she’d had something as simple as a cookie. I wondered how long it had been since someone besides Gentry had done something nice for her. I
wondered—I wondered too fucking much. Saw too much of myself in her, in Gentry. They were hunting me, hunting Bria. That made them my enemies, nothing more.

“Can I, Gentry?” the girl asked in a faint, whispered voice, looking over at her mentor. “Please?”

Another sad smile creased Gentry’s face, making her look old, small, and tired. “Of course, Sydney. Just remember your manners to the nice lady.”

Nice lady? If Gentry only knew that I was the one that she was looking for—that I was the Spider. The wanted assassin who could net her upward of five million dollars. Gentry would snatch those cookies out of Sydney’s hands and draw her revolver faster than I could palm one of my silverstone knives.

Sydney beamed at her, then me. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“It’s Gin,” I quipped. “Like the liquor. Not ma’am. I hate it when people call me ma’am.”

Sydney mumbled an apology around the cookie that she’d already stuffed into her mouth. I picked up Gentry’s change from the counter and passed it over to her. The bounty hunter took it and stared at me, her sharp eyes searching my face for something that only she knew or could even see.

For a moment, I wondered if she’d figured it out. If she realized exactly who I was.

But then, when she didn’t draw her revolver, I knew that she hadn’t and that she wouldn’t. Because how could an assassin like the Spider, a cold-hearted killer, ever do something as good as give food to a hungry girl?

“Thank you, Gin,” Gentry said in a soft voice. “For everything.”

“No problem,” I replied in a mild tone, playing the part of the simple restaurant owner once more. “Y’all come back now.”

Gentry gave me a small smile. “We will.”

Then she put her arm around Sydney, who was on her third cookie, and the bounty hunter and her apprentice left the Pork Pit.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Is it too much?”

Finn tilted his head and gave me a critical once-over. “You’re dressed up as an ice queen dominatrix. I don’t think there
is
such a thing as too much.”

I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror that had been set up in the den in Fletcher’s house. Trust Finn to perfectly describe my garish getup. I wore a pair of ice blue leather pants that laced all the way up my legs on both sides. A leather bustier done in the same color and trimmed with silver thread covered my chest, pushing my breasts up to new and spectacular heights. A matching collar set with silverstone squares ringed my neck.

A leather jacket covered the bustier, which let me tuck my two usual silverstone knives up my sleeves. I sported another knife against the small of my back, while two more waited in the sides of my stiletto boots.

Jo-Jo had come over a little while ago to do my
makeup, which consisted of rimming my eyes with silver liner and painting my lashes and lips the same cold color. The dwarf had also pulled my chocolate brown hair up into a high, tight ponytail and sprinkled silver glitter over the slicked-back locks. All put together, I looked like I was in the mood for a night of cold sex and frostbitten pain.

“Where did you get all this leather from?” I asked, turning to stare at myself from another angle.

“From Roslyn’s stash of costumes at Northern Aggression,” Finn said. “Where else would I get such come-hither clothes?”

Since leaving the Pork Pit, Finn had used his various connections to find out that there was a theme to tonight’s masquerade ball—Fire and Ice. How ironic. Finn had even managed to get photos emailed to him of what some of the other folks would be wearing in order to help Owen and me blend in. Hence all the leather.

“You look like a completely different person,” Bria said from her spot on the couch.

I turned and looked at my baby sister, who had an unreadable expression on her face. After closing down the restaurant, I’d come over to Fletcher’s house to tell her what was going on—and exactly what I was up to. Bria hadn’t liked it, hadn’t liked my making another run at Mab, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Not without getting captured by Gentry or one of the other bounty hunters and making the mess we were in that much worse.

“I don’t know. I think I like Gin’s costume a lot better than mine,” Owen rumbled and stepped into the den.

If I was the ice-queen dominatrix, then Owen was my eager client for the night. He also wore leather pants, although his were black and topped by a jacket and matching vest crisscrossed with silverstone chains. The magical metal clanked with every step he took. The two of us looked like a pair of sexual deviants ready to get our freak on, but according to Finn’s info, our costumes would be among the tamer ones at the party.

Owen and I were already late, so I checked my knives one final time, then turned to him.

“You ready?”

Owen nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

“We should go then,” I murmured.

I looked at Finn, then turned to Bria. My sister hadn’t said much while we’d been making plans and getting ready, but worry tightened her face—worry for me. The emotion made my heart twist and soar in my chest all at the same time. Despite what I was, despite all the people that I’d killed, Bria had somehow come to care for me, at least a little bit. It was more than I’d ever dreamed of—and somehow, it made everything that I’d suffered over the years worthwhile.

Bria leaned forward and grabbed my hand. Then, to my surprise, she reached for her Ice magic. For a moment, I wondered what she was doing, but then I felt her cool power trickle into the silverstone ring on my right index finger. Her ring, the one that she’d given me for Christmas. A slender silver band with a spider rune stamped in the middle of it.

Lots of elementals wore jewelry made out of silver-stone, since the metal was capable of absorbing and holding
their magic. By wearing pieces of the metal, elementals could have access to an extra influx of power should they need it. Like, say, if they decided to duel another elemental, to test their power against the other person’s. It wasn’t cheating, not exactly, since everyone did it, but it was still sneaky.

The two rings on Bria’s left index finger hummed with her Ice magic, as did the primrose rune that she wore on the chain around her neck. My ring was small and thin, but the silverstone still soaked up quite a bit of Bria’s power, until it felt like a band of Ice pressing against my skin. The sensation wasn’t an unpleasant one. If anything, it comforted me to be taking a piece of my sister with me into battle.

“Thank you for that,” I said. “I had been meaning to store my magic in the ring, but hadn’t done it yet. I’m not one for wearing jewelry.”

“I’d noticed that,” Bria said in a wry tone. “And I know that you prefer to use your knives, but you just never know what you might need. Especially… tonight.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to offend my sister or push her farther away, but we both knew what I was planning to do tonight—kill Mab in cold blood the way that I had so many other people. Even if she deserved it for everything she’d done to us, part of Bria would have preferred to handle the Fire elemental through legal means, to throw her in jail and let her rot.

Not me. I just wanted Mab dead, and I wasn’t picky about how she got there.

“Just—just be careful, Gin. Okay?” Bria asked, staring at me.

I squeezed her cold fingers with mine. “I always am, baby sister. I always am.”

Thirty minutes later, Owen steered his BMW up the driveway that led to the Five Oaks Country Club, where the masquerade ball was being held. Five Oaks was the snobbiest, most expensive, and highfalutin country club in Ashland, and only the insanely wealthy and powerful were allowed to be members.

I stared out the window at the snow-covered buildings of the club. The last time I’d been here was several months ago when I’d been stalking Alexis James, the Air elemental who’d tortured and murdered Fletcher. Alexis had managed to outmaneuver me that day, taking Finn and Roslyn hostage and escaping before I could kill her. I couldn’t afford to be that sloppy tonight, not with Mab, or I’d be the one who wouldn’t be leaving the club alive.

“You ready?” Owen asked in a soft voice.

I let out a breath and nodded. “As I’ll ever be,” I said, echoing his words.

Owen leaned over in the darkness of the car and pressed his lips to mine. For a moment that was all too brief, I just let myself feel—Owen’s lips warming mine, the faintest rasp of his stubble against my skin, his fingers sliding down my cheek. I breathed in, letting his rich, earthy scent fill my nose.

And then the kiss ended, and I was the Spider once more.

A valet came and took the car away. After we made note of where he put it, Owen and I strolled inside the country club arm in arm. Owen gave his engraved invitation
to the tuxedo-clad vampire manning the interior door. The vamp waved us on, and we stepped into the main ballroom. We moved to one side of the open doors, getting our bearings and watching the ebb and flow of people.

Five massive, circular buildings comprised the Five Oaks Country Club, including the ballroom before us, which covered several thousand feet and towered four stories into the air. Multiple sets of stairs led to the upper levels, each of which featured a balcony that circled the entire ballroom. The walkways made it all the better for the rich snobs to look down on their peers. A glass dome arched high overhead, forming the ceiling. Through the glass, I could just make out the soft curve of the moon. The bright silver sliver peaked through the thin clouds that wisped across the sky like a child playing peek-a-boo. Now you see me, now you don’t.

Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined the back wall of the ballroom, along with doors that led outside. In daylight hours, the sweeping view would show off the club’s acorn-shaped swimming pools, several tennis courts, and, of course, the green carpet of the back nine. Tonight, though, only darkness and snow peeped through.