“You fucking bitch!” he yelled.
The giant drew his gun out of his holster and started firing at me.
Crack!
Crack! Crack!
Crack!
But instead of punching through the window and then my skull, the bullets snagged in the thick glass, with spiderweb cracks zigzagging out in all directions from the sharp impacts.
“Bulletproof glass,” I said, leaning to one side of the cracks so that Dobson had a clear view of my smug smile. “A girl’s best friend.”
He growled and started to raise his gun again, but Madeline sidled over to him. “Here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let me.”
He reluctantly handed over his weapon, and Madeline strode back to the door with its busted-out glass. She raised the gun, aiming it at me through the open space. I tensed, ready to dive out of the way and reach for my Stone magic to harden my body—
But Madeline whipped around and shot Dobson instead.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Madeline was an excellent marksman, and three holes appeared in his chest, clustered right over his black heart, while the fourth bullet punched through the middle of his throat. Blood bubbled out of his lips, and he choked and choked, as if he could actually cough up the bullet lodged in his neck. Dobson teetered back and forth for a moment, staring at Madeline in disbelief, before dropping to the sidewalk.
I looked past the dead giant, expecting to see the cops leave their vehicles behind and sprint in this direction. But Dobson must have told them that he was taking care of things and to stay back, because the other officers held their positions at the ends of the block, although I could hear their hoarse shouts of Shots fired! Shots fired!
Madeline turned her attention to me again. “You’re right, Gin. Dobson would never be able to explain all of this away. But now I can.”
She stepped forward. I tensed again, wondering if she was going to shoot at me, but she only threw the gun in through the shattered door pane. The weapon tumbled end over end before clattering to a stop at my feet.
“You killed Dobson with his own gun, then holed up in your restaurant. The cops surrounded the place, but tragically, they weren’t able to take you alive.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
Instead of answering me, Madeline crooked her finger at Emery. The giant bent down, and Madeline whispered something into her ear. Emery nodded and stepped out of my line of sight. She reappeared less than a minute later holding a cigarette lighter and a bottle with a fat wad of white cotton stuffed into the top. Emery passed the bottle to Madeline, who turned it around so that I could see the label on the expensive liquor.
The irony almost made me laugh—almost.
“Gin to be the end of Gin. I think it’s rather fitting, don’t you?” Madeline purred. “I had Emery bring this and some other supplies along tonight just in case you survived the bull pen. If you had, I was going to toss this inside the cell and watch you burn. You actually gave me the idea, when you were talking about my mother earlier today and how she would have already dispatched you with her Fire magic. You made an excellent point. I was extremely disappointed that you didn’t die in the bull pen, but this will be so much better. So much more satisfying. After all, my mother extinguished most of the Snow family with her elemental Fire. Rather fitting that I’m going to use a similar flame to finally kill you too. Good-bye, Gin.”
She held out the bottle. Emery flicked on the cigarette lighter, bent down, and lit the cotton rag in the top of the gin. Madeline stared at the red flames, which were the same color as her smiling crimson lips, then tossed the Molotov cocktail in through the shattered door.
The bottle of gin exploded against the floor.
* * *
I’d backed out of the way of the bottle and the flames that spewed out from the shattered glass, but a few seconds later another Molotov cocktail sailed in through the open door, this one thrown by Emery, adding more fuel to the fire, so to speak.
I stared at Madeline through the growing flames.
“Cover all the exits,” she told Emery. “Keep her inside. Nobody approaches the building until there’s nothing left but cinders.”
Emery nodded and moved off to do her boss’s bidding. I thought about plowing through the door and taking my chances with Madeline, but she could still kill me with her acid magic. And by this point, the cops had actually started to approach the restaurant, no doubt with even more members of the po-po on the way. I wasn’t getting out of here.
I was going to burn to death inside the Pork Pit.
For a moment, the helplessness, the despair, the absolute certainty of my impending, painful, fire-filled death threatened to overwhelm me. I wobbled on my feet, like Dobson had before he’d dropped to the ground and bled out. But I wasn’t going to have the luxury of a quick death like that. I was going to go up in flames and die screaming, just like Madeline wanted me to—
A small explosion sounded, as the last bit of glass from the first bottle of gin shattered under the growing heat. The flames scorched along the floor, as if they were following the path of the pig tracks back to the restrooms. In an instant, the hungry swath of fire had obliterated the blue and pink marks, the ones I’d walked over a thousand times before.
Cold rage erupted in my heart, icing over my despair. Fletcher had already died in here, been hideously tortured in the very same spot where I was now standing. I hadn’t been able to save him, but I’d be damned if I was going to just lie down and die, especially at the hands of Madeline Magda fucking Monroe.
“Gin! Gin!” Owen screamed in my ear. “What’s happening? We’re almost to the restaurant. Finn and Bria are with me, and Silvio and Xavier are on their way. Just hold on until we get there. Do you hear me? Hold on!”
“Whatever happens, I love you,” I said, watching the flames snake across the floor and start crawling up the sides of the blue and pink booths. “And I love Finn and Bria and everyone else too. Make sure they know that. And whatever you do, don’t give up on me. No matter how bad things seem.”
“Gin, wait—”
I ended the call and slid the phone into my jeans pocket. Owen and the others wouldn’t get here in time, and I couldn’t let their anguish distract me from the things I needed to do now.
A third Molotov cocktail, this one thrown by McAllister, sailed in through the empty door pane. It too exploded and sent even more heat scorching through the restaurant. It wouldn’t be long before the storefront was completely engulfed. The fire would spread through the rest of the building quickly after that, leaving nothing behind but the foundation and the brick walls.
And me—if I was very smart and very, very lucky.
I was calmer now, more in control. I knew what needed to be done. It was the same feint that Fletcher and I had managed, all those years ago, during the hit at the poker game. The principle was the same now as it had been back then. I couldn’t leave the restaurant, but no one could come in and get me either. Only one way to break this stalemate.
Madeline wanted me dead in the worst possible way. The restaurant was on fire, and even if I did stumble out of the building, the cops were waiting outside to shoot me. It was a troubling problem, but the answer was surprisingly simple.
I needed to stay in the Pork Pit.
I needed to surrender to the flames.
I needed to die.
15
Still keeping one eye on Madeline, Emery, Jonah, and the cops gathered outside, I hurried through the storefront, pushed through the double doors, and went into the back of the restaurant, as though I were trying to escape from the heat, smoke, and flames for as long as possible. That was partly true, but I also wanted to fortify my position. Just because Madeline wanted to burn me to death didn’t mean that she wouldn’t send Emery or the cops inside to try to pump me full of bullets first.
So I tipped over a heavy metal rack lined with containers full of sugar, flour, and cornmeal in front of the double doors
to keep anyone from coming at me that way. When that was done, I hurried over to the back door. The locks had held, although every once in a while I would hear a ping-ping-ping against the metal. The cops were still outside and still shooting, to keep me trapped inside so the fire could do its work.
So instead of using my Stone magic to harden my skin, opening the door, and making a desperate attempt to escape out into the alley, I went over to the freezer in the back.
The one with all the frozen peas in it—and the body.
Madeline wanted me dead, but she was also smart enough to make very, very sure that her goal had finally been accomplished. She wouldn’t be satisfied with just burning the Pork Pit to the ground. She would want concrete proof of my death.
She would want to see my ruined, ashy, burned body.
In fact, she would demand it, and she wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less. If there was no body, then she would assume that I had escaped, and she’d tear Ashland apart searching for me, not to mention keep terrorizing my friends.
Madeline wanted me dead, so I was going to give her exactly what her black heart desired.
I pulled the strap of the duffel bag up over my head and tossed the whole thing over into the corner, so I could move more quickly and easily. Then I opened the freezer and started tossing out the boxes of frozen peas and bags of ice inside until I had uncovered the maid’s body.
She’d been in the freezer for more than twelve hours, long enough to be frozen solid, a life-size icicle with stiff, brittle limbs. It was difficult, since she was dead weight, literally, but I managed to grab hold of her arms, stand her upright in the freezer, and maneuver her over my shoulder like a fireman would. Sweating, and not just from the growing heat of the fire, I carried her over and slung her down so that she was lying on the floor in between the double doors that led into the storefront and the one that opened up into the alley out back, as if she’d been trapped there and overcome by the smoke and flames, just as Madeline wanted me to be.
Then, when that was done, I considered how I might actually survive the fire.
While I’d been working, the sprinklers had come on, spraying water everywhere, but the blaze quickly swallowed up all those precious drops, and they weren’t going to be enough to put out the fire. The flames had already reached the far side of the double doors, painting the interior of the restaurant in a bright, flickering, orange-red glow. Thick gray clouds of smoke wisped through the cracks in the doors, making me cough, and I crouched down to keep my head out of the worst of it as I considered my options.
I had no doubt that I could go into one of the walk-in freezers and remain safe from the fire. But I might run out of oxygen and suffocate before the flames died out. Besides, even if I had enough air, part of the restaurant could always collapse in and block the door, trapping me in the freezer until Madeline sent Emery and the cops inside to make sure that I was dead. I had no desire to be captured and taken back to the bull pen. So the walk-in freezers were out, and so was the one I’d hauled the body out of, since it would have far less air.
I could have gone over to one of the brick walls, let loose with my Stone magic, and blasted open a hole big enough to stagger out of, but the cops were still waiting in the alley. At this point, Madeline and Emery had probably told them to watch the walls and be on the lookout for any sign that I was using my power, so I couldn’t escape that way.
I might have gone through one of the walls into the storefront next door, but if I were the acid elemental, I would have posted men there too. Besides, I had no way of knowing how fast or far the fire might spread. The sturdy brick walls of the Pork Pit should contain the blaze, but there was no guarantee of that. So nothing doing there.
The drop ceiling wasn’t any help either, since it was covered with tiles that would soon succumb to the flames. Besides, smoke was already boiling every which way up there, and I’d die from inhaling it before the flames even had a chance to scorch my skin.
No, I had to stay in the restaurant, and I had to figure out some way to keep myself safe from the fire. My Ice and Stone magic would help with that, but I’d already used up a good chunk of my power escaping from the bull pen. I didn’t know that I had the reserves left to wait out a lengthy fire. And my magic still wouldn’t save me from the smoke. Even now, it threatened to overwhelm me, and I kept coughing and coughing, drawing treacherous particles of soot and carbon monoxide deep down into my lungs with every ragged breath I took.
My gaze fell to the floor and all those disgusting boxes of frozen peas. I’d tossed them out of the freezer, not caring where they’d landed, but some of them had stacked up together, almost like . . .
Bricks.
Once again, I flashed back to that night with Fletcher and how we’d taken refuge in those metal barrels as the warehouse had exploded around and then collapsed down on top of us. I didn’t have a barrel, but in this case I had something better—frozen peas.
I knew what I had to do now.
Time was running out, so I yanked the neck of my bloody T-shirt up over my mouth and nose, blocking out the billowing clouds of smoke as best I could, as I went around to all three of the freezers, throwing the tops open, reaching inside, and grabbing all the bags of ice and the biggest, thickest boxes of frozen food I could find.
I worked as fast as I could, and then, when the freezers were empty, I dragged all the bags of ice and boxes of food to the very back corner of the restaurant and grabbed my duffel bag from where it had landed.
Then I started building my frozen-food fort.
I stacked the bags of ice around the corner, bringing them in as close and tight to my body as I could, then piled the boxes of frozen food all around me, until I had a makeshift wall that was about three feet high. I sank down behind the wall, sitting on my duffel bag, and pulled my knees up to my chest. Already, the flames had eaten through the double doors, and the eerie, orange-red glow had intensified, as had the heat.
My throat burned from the searing, smoky air, and I coughed and coughed, but there was one more thing I needed to do before I shut myself off from the flames. So I turned to the wall pressing against my back.
The bricks had already started to shriek, scream, and shudder from the fire racing through the restaurant, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be screaming in the same sort of agony before this was all over with. But I couldn’t let myself think about that, so I made my body as small and comfortable as possible, then reached out and put a hand on a single brick, right at the level of my nose and mouth. With a small trickle of power I loosened the brick from the gray mortar and wiggled it out of the wall. I doubted that anyone outside could hear the movements, but the steady scrape-scrape-scrape of the stone sliding free sounded as loud as a drum to me, beating out the fact that I was still alive.
I pried the brick loose, set it aside, and peered out the small, narrow opening. The back of a Dumpster stood in front of me, its dull, gray metal hull blocking my view of the alley and anyone who might be lurking in the corridor. I was so desperate for oxygen that I couldn’t even force myself to wait a few seconds to see if someone was coming to investigate the noise. Instead, I shoved my nose up to the opening and sucked down gulp after gulp of air. It was foul stuff, reeking of the empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and bags of fast food that had long ago spoiled in the Dumpster, but some of the fog cleared from my mind.
So I breathed in all the fresh air I could and listened. Above the crackling flames, I could hear sharp, excited murmurs echoing back and forth through the alley, although the gunshots had stopped. The cops were still stationed out there, waiting for me to stumble outside and die. Even if they weren’t in Madeline’s pocket, they’d want revenge for my supposedly killing Dobson, and they’d be all too happy to empty their guns into me until I was dead.
BOOM!
Something exploded inside the storefront, the flames spewing all the way back here and cranking up the heat that much more. I sucked in another lungful of air
, then turned back to face my makeshift fort.
There were so many bags of ice and boxes of food that they hadn’t started to melt yet, but it was only a matter of time before they did. So I reached out with both hands and touched the closest one—another box of frozen peas—then focused on my Ice magic, on all that cold, cold power buried deep inside me. I concentrated, and silver lights flared in both my palms, centered in my spider rune scars. I drew in a shallow breath, not wanting to inhale too much more smoke, then unleashed my magic.
I sent my power racing through all the bags and boxes stacked around me, filling in all the cracks and crevices between them with my elemental Ice. Slowly, the cold crystals of my power began to spread, until I’d sealed all the bags and boxes into a solid, frozen mass around me. But that wasn’t going to be enough to save me from the fire, so I pushed out another wave of Ice, making the crystals spread out from the top of my frozen-food fort and the brick walls all around me at the same time.
It was difficult, especially with the smoke washing over me and the flames creeping closer and closer, but I forced the Ice out in wave after frosty wave, until all the separate sheets met directly over my head, completely sealing me off from the fire, and creating the crudest sort of igloo.
But I didn’t stop there. I might be walled off from the fire, but the flames still flickered outside my crystal cage, casting bright, twisting glows in all directions, as though I were staring into the center of a lit candle. Before long the fire would wash over my igloo, cooking the food and me too if I wasn’t careful, so I poured all my strength, all my energy, all my power, into making all those sheets and layers and wedges of Ice as thick and cold and hard and solid as I could.
I didn’t know how long I did that. It seemed like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute, two tops. But all too soon, I exhausted what magic I had, and I slumped back against the wall. This was the choice I’d made, for better or worse, and now all I could do was hope that I’d been clever and strong enough to save myself.
Black Widow Page 14
