“Something on your mind, Bria?” I asked.
Bria looked up, startled by my question. Then a rueful grin spread across her pretty face. “Is it that obvious?”
“Probably not to anyone else but me.”
She nodded, accepting my explanation. “Actually, there is another reason that Xavier and I came by the Pit today, other than the food.”
Bria drew in a breath and stared at me. “We need your help, Gin.”
My sister asking for my help—especially considering the violent, bloody kind of help that I specialized in—was a new experience. But I wasn’t about to deny her. Anything that Bria asked of me, I would happily give her—and then some. Still, if my sister, the straight arrow, the upstanding detective, had turned to me, the morally bankrupt assassin, for aid, then something really big must be up.
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You need my help? Who exactly needs killing?”
Bria winced. “It’s not—it’s not like that. Not like that at all, Gin. I don’t want anybody dead.”
I stared at her another moment before my gaze cut to Xavier. The giant just shrugged his massive shoulders, telling me that Bria had the lead on this thing, whatever it was.
“So what’s up?” I asked. “Why do two such esteemed members of the Ashland po-po need my help? Got a dirty cop you need to bust or something?”
Xavier snorted, with good reason. Besides the giant and Bria, honest cops were rarer than blizzards in the summertime in Ashland. Most members of the police force preferred to take wads of C-notes to look the other way, rather than actually try to solve the many crimes that plagued the city. It was easier, less dangerous, and far more profitable for everyone involved that way. For most folks, the only justice in Ashland was what they made for themselves—with whatever sharp, pointed weapon happened to be nearby.
Bria took a sip of her blackberry lemonade and tapped her left index finger on the counter before reaching down and twisting around the two rings that she wore there. Turn, turn, turn. Twisting the silverstone bands around and around was Bria’s tell, something that she did whenever she was thinking hard about a problem. Light pooled in the snowflake and ivy symbols embedded in the metal and flashed the runes back at me.
“It’s not that we need your help,” she finally said. “It’s just that we can’t quite figure things out.”
“What do you mean?”
Bria looked at me. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s been a bit more crime lately in Ashland than usual.”
“Especially for the dead of winter,” Xavier chimed in. “Usually, crime around here goes down the more the snow piles up, since most folks don’t want to get out into the cold. Of course, we get a few bums squatting in abandoned buildings over in Southtown, some trash-can fires that get out of control, but that’s about it, except for the usual stuff.”
By the usual stuff, Xavier meant all the domestic disputes, robberies, rapes, gang violence, and assorted murders that took place in the city on a daily basis. From a distance, Ashland might resemble a larger version of Mayberry, but in reality, the city was about as far removed from that quaint Southern ideal as could be. The only whistling folks did in Ashland was after they’d bashed you over the head, ripped your purse off your arm, and were strolling away counting the bills inside.
“Crime around the city has skyrocketed in the past few days,” Bria continued. “Bar fights, robberies, beatings, murders. It’s like some kind of army has invaded Ashland and is determined to tear up as much stuff as they can.”
I frowned, and my mind flashed back to last night and the dinner guests that I’d seen at Mab’s mansion. They’d all had a hard edge to them, a sharpness in their faces, and a twitch in their fingers that had marked them as potential dangerous troublemakers. I glanced at Finn, who was staring back at me, the same thought shining in his eyes.
“You think the crime spree has something to do with Mab’s guests?” I asked him.
Finn shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Although the people that Mab does business with usually have a little more self-control than to go around getting into bar fights.”
He had a point, so I waved at Bria, telling her to continue.
“The whole department’s been trying to crack down, but no one can figure out what the hell is going on, who these people are, and why they’ve all suddenly come to Ashland,” Bria said.
“Yeah,” Xavier agreed. “Normally, we’d at least get a few whispers about what was up. But even the guys on the take don’t have a clue—and you’d figure they’d hear something from their sugar daddies so they could cut off some of the problems before they got started.”
“So more people are hurting and killing each other,” I said. “Around these parts, that happens every time the moon’s full. What exactly do you need me for?”
Bria looked at me. “I got a call this morning from one of my sources telling me that he knew what was going on and that it was something big—something that would really shake things up for everyone in the Ashland underworld. I asked him what it was, but he didn’t want to talk over the phone. Said it wasn’t secure enough. I’m supposed to meet with him tonight.”
“I’m sensing a but in there.”
A smile flitted across her face. “But he sounded strange when I talked to him. Like he was really excited about something, and this is the kind of guy who only gets excited when there’s a big score to be had. I don’t see what angle he’s playing by telling me what’s up, since I don’t pay him for his info. So I told Xavier about it, and he thought that it might be a good idea to talk to you about things.”
I looked at Xavier. “Suggesting me as backup? That’s not like you.”
The giant shrugged. “I thought that it might be prudent, what with everything that’s going on with Mab. Especially since someone tried to take out the Fire elemental last night—in her own mansion, no less.”
I winced. I hadn’t brought up my little trip to Mab’s for all sorts of reasons, but mainly because I’d missed the shot. I wasn’t supposed to miss—ever. Especially not when the stakes were this high, not when my sister’s life hung in the balance, swaying back and forth on the end of a spider’s thin, silky thread. Mab wanted Bria dead in the worst kind of way, and I didn’t want Bria to think that I couldn’t protect her. I supposed that I was still playing the role of the big sister, just like I had when we were kids. Even though at twenty-five and with Ice magic that was almost as strong as my own, Bria could more than take care of herself.
I sighed. “So you guys heard about that, huh?”
“We did,” Bria said.
All sorts of emotions clouded her features. Caution, respect, fear, and just a touch of concern. I wondered if that last one was for me or for herself.
Mab was under the mistaken impression that Bria was the Snow sister with both Ice and Stone magic—the girl who Mab had been told would kill the Fire elemental one day. I’d wanted to put the word out to the Ashland underworld that Mab had it all wrong, that the Spider was the one with both Ice and Stone magic. But Bria had pointed out that since the Fire elemental didn’t seem to know who the Spider was or what the assassin’s connection might be to Bria, it was foolish to give Mab any information that she didn’t already have. From past experience, I knew that the Fire elemental wasn’t that stupid, sloppy, or clueless, but I’d acceded to my sister’s wishes. Bria wanted Mab focused on her and not me—no matter how dangerous it was.
I thought Bria’s fatalistic attitude had something to do with the guilt my younger sister felt over how things had gone down that fateful night. Bria had seen Mab torturing me, but instead of trying to help me, she’d panicked and run away. I didn’t blame Bria for that, though. She’d only been eight at the time, just a scared kid, the same as me. If she’d tried to stop Mab, she would have been dead too—burned to ash by the Fire elemental’s magic. Still, all these years later, Bria felt responsible for things, like it was somehow her fault that Mab had tortured me instead of her.
>
I looked at Bria, and our eyes locked. So many emotions swam in the depths of our gazes, so many things that we just couldn’t say to each other. But one thing was certain—my sister had asked for my help, and I was going to give it to her.
“You want me to come along for backup, I will,” I said in a low voice. “Anytime, anyplace. You know that. So where is this little party going to be? Because I’ll be there, but with silverstone knives strapped on, instead of bells.”
“What’s this guy’s name again?” I asked Finn.
“What?” Finn said, cupping his hand over his ear to try to hear me better over the rocking music. Something he’d done three times in as many minutes whenever I’d tried to talk to him.
I sighed. Another night, another job, another chance to hang out at Northern Aggression.
That’s where Finn and I were now, just before midnight, since Bria was meeting her source here. Northern Aggression was the most decadent nightclub in Ashland, a hedonistic den of sin where you could get anything you wanted if you had enough cash, plastic, or other valuable commodity to pay for the delights that waited inside. Sex, drugs, blood, smokes, alcohol. All that and more was available on the nightclub’s pleasure-filled menu.
As its name suggested, Northern Aggression was located in Northtown, cozied in among the area’s cookie-cutter McMansions and sprawling estates. The city’s rich, corporate yuppies had to have somewhere to go after quitting time, and the club serviced all their needs. At Northern Aggression, you could do everything from have a casual drink with the girls to get your rocks off with whichever waiter—or three—caught your eye.
In keeping with the polite veneer that Northtown was so famous for, the outside of the club was surprisingly tame, looking more like a warehouse than anything else. The only thing that suggested there might be something of interest inside was the rune that hung over the entrance—a heart with an arrow through it. Every night, the sign burned first red, then yellow, then orange, inviting folks to come inside and get their freak on.
Once you stepped through the door, the tame, featureless veneer vanished. Crushed red velvet drapes covered the nightclub’s walls, while a bamboo floor cushioned the feet of the many dancers. A bar made out of a single long sheet of elemental Ice ran down one wall, the suns and stars carved into the frosty surface glittering underneath the swirling lights. The runes were the symbols for life and joy, respectively, both of which folks in here seemed to have an abundance of tonight. Even if it all was just an alcohol-, smoke-, and sex-filled high.
As if all that wasn’t enough to ambush, assault, and overload the senses, the waitstaff took care of the rest. Impossibly buff, beautiful men and women roamed through the crowd, serving up drinks and themselves to interested parties. Most of them were vampires, and all of them were hookers, as denoted by the necklaces they wore, each one with the heart-and-arrow rune of the nightclub dangling off the end of it.
I’d been in the club countless times, but it never failed to dazzle me with its sheer, unapologetic opulence.
That Bria’s source had chosen Northern Aggression for the location of their meeting didn’t surprise me. Lots of shady deals went down inside the club’s private VIP rooms or the ones upstairs that could be rented out for as quick or as long as you liked. From the way my sister had described her source and the mysterious info that he wanted to give her, I doubted that anything tonight would be on the up-and-up.
I picked up my glass of gin and took a swallow. The cold liquor burned its way down my throat before turning into a pleasant heat in the pit of my stomach.
“What?” Finn asked again.
Next to him, Roslyn Phillips nodded her head in understanding. The vampire had no problem hearing me since enhanced senses were one of the many benefits that came along with drinking blood. Normal human blood was enough to give any vamp excellent eyesight and hearing, while those who drank from giants and dwarves received the great strength of those two races. Vampires could even absorb Air, Fire, and other forms of magic if they had access to an elemental’s blood. Besides, this was Roslyn’s gin joint, her nightclub. She’d had years to grow accustomed to the noise level.
She leaned forward and put her mouth close to his ear. “Gin wants to know the name of Bria’s source.”
Finn’s face cleared, and he held up his martini glass. “After I finish my drink.”
I gave him a sour look and sat back in my side of the booth that we were parked in. Instead of pressing the issue, I contented myself with another swig of gin. From past experience, I knew that absolutely nothing could convince Finn to do something before he was good and ready. The man was stubbornly implacable that way.
Across from me, an amused smile lifted Roslyn’s lips. She’d been around Finn long enough to appreciate and sympathize with my dilemma, especially since the two of them had been friends with benefits for years, before she’d gotten serious with Xavier a few months ago.
If Bria was beautiful, then Roslyn Phillips was simply extraordinary. Everything about her was exceptional, from the creamy smoothness of her toffee-colored skin to the bright, matching color of her eyes to the way the cut of her sleek black hair framed her stunning features. Her body was just perfection itself, with toned muscles and svelte proportions that would put any supermodel to shame. Tonight, the vamp wore a tight, fitted, scarlet pantsuit that outlined her figure in a way that was somehow sexier than the skimpiest lingerie could be. Lots of hungry eyes strayed in Roslyn’s direction, but she was one of the few things not on the club’s menu.
Like so many vampires in Ashland, Roslyn had spent a good part of her life hooking on the Southtown streets before she’d saved enough money to become an uptown girl and start Northern Aggression. Vampires pretty much had the corner on the skin trade in Ashland. All vamps needed blood to live, of course, just the way that humans needed food and vitamins. But for some of them, having sex was just as good as downing a pint of O-positive and gave them a great, healthy high. Besides, vamps could live a long time, and prostitution was the world’s oldest profession. It was always nice to have a skill to fall back on, especially given these tough economic times.
I finished my drink, pushed the glass aside, and looked at Bria.
My sister sat at the end of the Ice bar, nursing a mojito. She wore the same clothes that she’d had on earlier, although she’d tucked her detective’s badge and her gun into her coat pocket. Bria’s outfit was chaste compared to the skimpy clothes that the women on the dance floor sported, her demeanor nunlike when contrasted with those who openly made out with or even fucked their paramours in and under the club’s booths and tables. But my sister still got her share of attention. Every other minute, some guy would sidle up and offer to buy her a drink, but Bria always shook her head and declined.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed Bria’s popularity. Finn stared at my sister as well, his mouth tightening as a handsome man wearing a three-piece suit tried to buy her another mojito. Finn grumbled something under his breath.
I hid a grin and continued scanning the area around the bar. Finally, my eyes landed on the woman standing behind it. The Ice elemental responsible for making sure that the bar stayed in one piece for the night, given all the bodies pressed up against it and the accompanying heat that went with them. The elemental’s eyes glowed a dim blue as she sent a trickle of her power into the bar. Even across the room, I could feel the cool caress of her magic. It made me want to reach for my own Ice magic—and think about the last time I’d been here at Northern Aggression.
“How are Vinnie and Natasha doing?” I asked Roslyn.
“Good,” Roslyn said. “Real good. I hooked Vinnie up with a job tending bar in a club in Savannah. He’s liking the warmer weather down there, especially this time of year, and Natasha’s doing well in school. Vinnie said to tell you hello, Gin. He said that if you’re ever in Savannah, the drinks are on him.”
I nodded. Vinnie Volga was the Ice elemental who used to tend bar for Roslyn—until
Mab had blackmailed him into spying on the vampire in an effort to find me, the Spider. Mab had had Vinnie’s daughter, Natasha, kidnapped and used for leverage, before I’d rescued the girl and saved Vinnie from being beaten to death by Mab’s goons. Another good deed that I’d done pro bono. The only ones that seemed to matter these days.
At the bar, Bria shot down the guy in the suit, who moved on to another, easier prospect. Finn nodded his approval.
I arched an eyebrow. “Are you finally ready to get down to business, then?”
“So demanding,” Finn said.
I just looked at him.
“Fine, fine,” he muttered, pulling out his cell phone and scrolling through a couple of screens.
After a minute, Finn found what he was looking for.
“Bria’s source is one Lincoln Jenkins,” he said, talking just loud enough so that I could hear him above the pounding music. “Quite the rap sheet he’s got. Dozens of arrests for all sorts of petty crimes, most of which have to do with being caught with things that didn’t belong to him very close to houses that had just been broken into.”
“So he’s a thief, then,” Roslyn said.
We’d filled the vamp in on why we were staking out the club. A common courtesy among friends. Roslyn knew who I was, of course. We had a history together, stretching back to last year when I’d killed her abusive brother-in-law and then more recently, when I’d helped her take care of Elliot Slater, the giant who’d been stalking and terrorizing her. Even if we hadn’t clued Roslyn in on what was happening, Xavier would have kept her in the loop, since he and Roslyn were hot and heavy these days. The giant cop also moonlighted as the club’s head bouncer and was currently working the front door, determining who got in past the red velvet rope and who was left standing outside in the cold. Another reason that he’d suggested that Finn and I back up Bria tonight, since he wouldn’t be around to help her if things went bad.
Finn sniffed, “If you call boosting radios out of gang-bangers’ cars and swiping rhinestone necklaces out of grandma’s jewelry box stealing. Some of us prefer to work on a larger, more professional scale.”
Spider’s Revenge Page 7
