Unless . . . he didn’t want really want to kill her?
After all, the bomb had been planted at the opposite end of the conference table from Lorelei’s seat. And Phillip and Silvio had said that the resulting explosion had seemed small. So the bomb would have probably killed me, since I’d been sitting the closest to it, and maybe some other folks. But Lorelei probably would have escaped largely unscathed. Jack Corbin too.
Maybe . . . Pike hadn’t been trying to kill his sister. Maybe . . . he’d just wanted to scare her. Maybe . . . he’d just wanted her to realize that he was in Ashland and coming for her. Maybe . . . he wanted to torture her before he finally moved in for the kill.
There were no maybes about it.
From all accounts, Raymond Pike had grown up to be just like his father. But Renaldo had been taken away from him, and he’d spent years searching for Lorelei so he could take his revenge. Now he’d finally found her. It wouldn’t be enough for Pike simply to kill his sister. Oh, no. He would want her to suffer first, the way he had suffered all these years.
And the best way to make Lorelei suffer would be by taking away the person she loved most: Mallory.
I scanned the garden, searching for Mallory. She was sitting at her table, sipping tea, about twenty feet away from my position. I studied the bushes and trees around her, but I didn’t see anything suspicious. No branches moving back and forth, no bright swatches of clothing peeking through the limbs, no telltale flash from a set of binoculars.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Pike was here to kill Lorelei after all—
A waitress separated herself from the crowd and headed in Mallory’s direction. Instead of a bottle of champagne or a tray of food, she clutched a small box in her hand. My breath caught in my throat.
“Here you go, ma’am,” the waitress said, putting the box down on the table in front of the elderly dwarf. “A special party favor just for you.”
She bobbed her head at Mallory, then went back over to the bar.
So Pike was getting someone else to do his dirty work, just like he had on the Delta Queen. I wondered if he intended for the waitress to live through what he had planned. Probably not.
Mallory glanced at the box, but she didn’t make a move to actually open it. The so-called party favor was made out of rose quartz and looked like a fancy jewelry box. Even from here, I could hear the delicate murmurs of the stone, singing proudly of its own beauty.
But those weren’t the only murmurs I could hear.
Dark, devious notes of mischief and malice also emanated from the stone, telling me exactly what was inside: another bomb.
I held my breath, waiting for the bomb to explode, but Mallory kept sipping her tea, the box sitting innocently on the table. I exhaled. Pike wasn’t going to detonate it just yet. Why not?
I looked around and spotted Lorelei on the other side of the garden, her back to Mallory. That’s why. Pike would want Lorelei to actually see her grandmother being blown to bits. I wouldn’t be surprised if he called Lorelei on her phone, told her to turn around, and then boom!
Of course, I thought about running forward, snatching up the box, and throwing it as deep and far as I could into the trees. But Pike might recognize me if I approached Mallory and tried to take the box away. Either way, if he blew the bomb, a lot of people here were going to get hurt—or worse.
No, I had to find Pike and take him out before he could trigger the blast. So I circled the garden, moving from one bush to the next as quickly and quietly as I could, looking for his hiding spot.
Thirty seconds later, I found him.
He was leaning against a tree about fifty feet away from Mallory, staring out through the screen of leaves. His head swiveled from side to side as he looked back and forth between Lorelei and her grandmother.
My knife still in my hand, I crept toward Pike. The one good thing about my filmy dress and bare feet was that I didn’t make any noise as I sidled closer and closer to him.
Pike kept his relaxed stance, a phone in his hand. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, and the sun streaming in through the trees made his black hair as glossy as a crow’s wing. A photographer couldn’t have positioned Pike any better to show off his chiseled features and muscled body. A faint chill of metal magic wafted off him, but the sensation didn’t bother me, since it felt so similar to my own Stone power.
Pike straightened up. I stopped and tensed, ready to throw my knife at his throat, just like he’d done to Smith at the hotel. But the risk was that he might still be able to trigger the bomb before he died or I managed to get that phone away from him—
“That knife in your hand is quite impressive,” he murmured in a cool, smooth voice. “Silverstone is a favorite metal of mine.”
Raymond Pike turned to look at me. I twirled my knife around in my hand and stepped forward so that he could see me, easing closer to him. I didn’t look at the phone in his hand—didn’t so much as glance at it—but I was aware of it all the while.
“Mine too,” I replied. “Especially when I’m killing people with it.”
He chuckled, his face creasing into a wide smile. Most people would have thought the expression charming, but his eyes stayed cold, and the curve of his lips was more cruel than kind. This was not a man to be trifled with. Well, I wasn’t to be trifled with either.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he said in that same suave voice. “I’m Raymond Pike.”
“Gin,” I replied. “Like the liquor.”
He arched his eyebrows. “How quaint.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. I kept staring at his face, even though I was thinking about distances and angles and how I could best get that phone away from him.
Pike’s blue gaze swept over me, taking in my tangled hair, torn dress, and bare, dirt-crusted feet. “Why, aren’t you the very epitome of Southern womanhood,” he drawled, his cultured tone making even the sarcastic insult sound classy. “A veritable flower of perfection in this fine, fine garden.”
I grinned, but my smile was as sharp as the knife in my hand. “Bless your heart. What a lovely compliment. I’m actually not looking my best right now, but I expect that to change in another minute or two.”
“Really? How so?”
My grin widened. “Because that’s when I’ll be figuring out how to wash your blood out of my dress. Red really is my best color.”
He chuckled, unconcerned by my threat. “You’re confident. I like that. It always makes the game so much more interesting.”
“The game?”
He nodded. “Life and death. The one that people like you and me play with all the puppets and pawns out there.”
“Well, if that’s your game, then why didn’t you blow me to bits on the riverboat?” I asked, creeping forward another step. “You had plenty of opportunity. Not to mention that sniper rifle you used to take those shots at me.”
Pike shrugged. “You weren’t my target. Besides, I was rather curious to see what you would do. Most people would have run screaming once they realized there was a bomb on board. But not you. I found it most interesting. And amusing, watching your pitiful efforts to save everyone, even if it cost you your own life. And it almost did. Lucky for you that friend of yours jumped into the river to save you. Or you’d be as dead as Lorelei will be very, very soon.”
“Oh, yes. Lorelei. I’ve heard of family feuds before and have been involved in a few myself, but I’ve never wanted to kill my own sister. What did she ever do to you?”
The coldness lurking beneath his handsome mask of a face rose to the surface and spread out like ice coating his skin. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched. In that moment, there was a complete and utter stillness to him, like a snake waiting to strike. I might have thought him a statue planted in the gardens, if not for the hate burning in his blue eyes.
; “Half sister,” he corrected in that ever-smooth voice. “She killed my father, and instead of having the guts to face up to what she’d done, she went into hiding. She should die for that alone.”
“But there’s more.”
“You’re damn right there’s more,” he snarled. “After my father’s death, I was put into foster care. Some fool psychiatrist said that I was a danger to myself and others. They locked me up in juvie until I was eighteen. You can imagine the sorts of things that happened to me in there.”
Nothing good. Being locked up, at other people’s mercy, or lack thereof . . . It would have warped Pike even more than his father already had.
“Lorelei is to blame for it all. Every second I was locked up, every time I was beaten, every bad thing that happened to me inside,” he continued. “It’s taken years for me to track her down. Years of dead ends and false leads and being led on a merry fucking goose chase. But now I’ve found her, and I intend to finish what my father started all those years ago. For him and especially for me.”
Memories from that day filled my mind. The horn on Sophia’s convertible beeping in warning. Her car crumpled around that tree, smoke boiling up from the hood. Renaldo Pike striding toward the cabin, using his metal magic to rip all the nails out of the walls and send them shooting out like bullets. And then, everything that had happened after I’d dragged Lorelei out of the cabin and into the woods . . .
I blinked, forcing away the memories. Raymond Pike was wrong about so many things. As far as I was concerned, his father had gotten exactly what he deserved. But of course, Pike wouldn’t see it that way.
I shook my head. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You should have killed Lorelei on the riverboat. You would have gotten away with it then. But not now.”
“Why? Because you’re here, and you’re going to stop me?” Pike laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. All you’ve done so far is run around, stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, and try to save people.”
He raised his phone. I tensed, expecting him to detonate the bomb, but all he did was clutch that hand to his heart, phone and all, mocking me.
“It’s been very noble of you, though,” he said. “Even if it all was a waste of time.”
I tightened my grip on my knife and eased forward another foot. Three more steps, and I’d be close enough to gut him. “That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t think that saving people is a waste of time. More like time well spent.”
Pike scoffed, then dropped his hand from his heart and glanced down at his phone. I was out of time, so I raised my knife, ready to lunge toward him and drive the blade through his rotten heart—
A cold, hard force took hold of my knife, as though an invisible hand were peeling my fingers off the hilt. Before I could tighten my grip again, the force jerked the knife completely out of my hand and sent it zipping over to Pike, who plucked it effortlessly out of midair.
“An impressive weapon,” he murmured, hefting it in his hand. “Light, lethal, perfectly balanced. How about I take it for a spin?”
Pike grinned, snapped his arm up, and threw the knife right back at me, aiming for my throat, the same way he’d done when he’d killed Smith. There was no time to duck, so I threw up my forearm as I reached for my Stone magic, hardening my skin.
I didn’t know if Pike used his metal magic to direct the weapon or if he was just that good a marksman, but the knife slammed into my forearm, tip first, in a perfect throw.
Bull’s-eye.
I hadn’t brought enough of my magic to bear to completely block the blow, and the knife sliced through my skin, the blade lodging deep in the tendons close to my elbow with a hard, sickening impact. I felt like someone had jabbed an icy poker right into the middle of my funny bone. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
I staggered back, my breath escaping in a hissing yelp of pain, as blood spurted out of my arm and spattered all over my dress. As an added bonus, a sharp bit of rock buried under a pile of leaves sliced into my left foot. Injury and insult.
But I swallowed my screams, reached down, and yanked my own knife out of my arm. The coppery stink of my blood filled my nose, overpowering all the sweet floral perfumes. I tightened my grip on the blade, using my Stone magic to harden my fist around the hilt and make sure the weapon stayed put.
Every movement, every breath, every blink of my eyes sent more and more pain spiraling through my body. Still, it could have been worse. If I hadn’t used my magic, the weapon would have broken my arm outright. If I hadn’t raised my arm, the knife would have lodged in my throat—and I’d be on the ground, bleeding out.
Instead of using his metal magic to rip the weapon away from me again, Pike did something far, far worse: he held up his phone. The screen was large enough for me to see a timer there. Two minutes and tick-tick-ticking down.
“Since you seem to enjoy saving people so much, I’m giving you a chance to do just that,” he purred. “You have two choices. You can try to kill me right now, or you can try to stop my bomb. I’ll give you a hint. This one packs a lot more punch than the one on the riverboat. Up to you, hero.”
A wave of magic rolled off him, and the phone disintegrated in his hand, with bits of plastic, glass, and metal pinging off the surrounding trees and bushes. Pike backed up, his hands held up in front of him, ready to blast me with magic if I came at him.
For a mad, mad moment, I thought about going after him and ending this here and now. But he was right—I would rather save everyone than try to kill him. Besides, there would be plenty of time for that later.
“Tell Lorelei that her big brother says hello,” Pike purred again, realizing he’d won this round. “And that I’ll be seeing her again real soon.”
He waggled his fingers, then raised his hand to his lips and blew me a kiss before disappearing into the trees. Smug bastard.
I plunged through the bushes, shoving my way through the tight branches and staggering out into the middle of the garden.
For a second, nothing happened. Then someone noticed me, my knife, and the blood dripping all over me.
“Look out!” someone screamed. “She has a knife!”
Everyone turned to stare at me. The society ladies. The waitresses. Jo-Jo, Roslyn, Lorelei, and Mallory. They all froze, and the only sounds were my hoarse, raspy breaths and the faint tinkling of the wind chimes in the distance.
Then chaos erupted.
Everyone screamed and stampeded away from me as fast as they could. But they didn’t get far; in their haste, the partygoers slammed into one another, rattling around like bowling pins, upending chairs, tipping over tables, and sending all those pretty tea sets crashing to the ground. One woman—Delilah—tripped and did a header into the podium, knocking herself unconscious. In an instant, the elegant soiree was reduced to a giant rose-and-tea-themed mess, with broken dishes, trampled food, and overturned furniture strewn in the midst of all the colorful flowers.
There was no time to explain, so I shoved through the women standing between me and that box that was still sitting in front of Mallory, who was getting to her feet. By some stroke of luck, hers was the only table that had remained upright and untouched during the stampede. I just hoped it stayed that way. If the box fell to the ground, if someone accidentally kicked it . . . I didn’t know what might trigger the bomb other than the cell-phone timer, and I didn’t want to find out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jo-Jo and Roslyn moving against the crowd, trying to get to me. So was Lorelei, although she was heading toward Mallory. But I was closer to the dwarf than any of them, so I shut them out of my mind and focused on the bomb.
“Move!” I yelled, although my voice was lost among the shrieks and screams. “Move! Move! Move!”
I pushed a couple of middle-aged matrons out of my way and staggered over to the table. Mallory sidestepped away from me, clearly wondering what I was doi
ng, but I only had eyes for the bomb. More women streamed past the table, carrying Mallory along in their wake. Good. The farther away she was, the more likely she was to survive.
Just as I’d thought, the bomb was housed inside a jewelry box made out of pale rose quartz. Flowers and vines swirled through the sides, while a small silver clasp held the lid closed. It would have been quite beautiful, if not for the ugly rune carved into the top.
A mace—Pike’s rune.
As my gaze locked onto the symbol, a pale blue light flared, growing brighter and brighter and slowly filling in the lines of the mace rune. Cold, hard power leaked out of the box, building and building like a wave rising up. Pike must have coated the box with his metal magic to make the blast even more powerful, to send the nails inside shooting out in all directions for maximum effect.
No collateral damage this time—just utter destruction.
I’d been trying to keep a mental clock running in my head, but I didn’t know how accurate my timing was. I thought that I had about thirty seconds left to do something with the bomb—other than watch it explode and rip people to shreds, including me.
Desperation filled me. My eyes flicked left and right, but there was no place to throw the bomb. Even if I managed to find an empty area, I couldn’t throw it far enough to keep everyone out of the blast radius. The blowback would still kill people, along with the resulting shrapnel.
Twenty-five . . . twenty-four . . . twenty-three . . .
Lorelei reached my side. She’d lost her floppy hat and one of her heels, but her mouth was set into a determined slash as she stared down at the bomb.
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