“I don’t need a vacation,” I growled, stomping away from him and the curious customers. “And that’s final.”
I grabbed a couple of trash bags, pushed through the swinging double doors, and walked through the back of the restaurant. I didn’t stop until I opened another door and stepped outside into the alley that cut between the rows of buildings on the block.
It was after seven, and night had already fallen, wrapping the structures in thick, coal black shadows that stretched all the way up to the sky. Wispy clouds flitted by in front of the not-quite-full moon, rolling over the bright silver orb like waves crashing onto a sandy shore and then retreating back out to sea.
My eyes zoomed in on a crack in the alley wall across the way, a tiny sliver of space barely big enough for a child to fit into. My old hiding spot when I’d been living on the mean streets of Ashland back before Fletcher had taken me in. For a moment, I wished that I were still small enough to fit into the crack and hide from all my worries—at least for a little while.
I’d thought killing Mab would solve all my problems, but instead it had just created a whole host of new ones. Sure, business was better than ever at the Pork Pit, but only because people came to gawk at me. Everyone wondered if I was really the notorious assassin known as the Spider and if I’d really killed Mab Monroe like some folks claimed.
Then there were the people who actually knew I’d taken out the Fire elemental—people like Jonah McAllister. He’d been Mab’s lawyer and one of her top lieutenants before her death, and he had a number of reasons to hate me, especially since I’d killed his son, Jake, last year. McAllister had even gone so far as to offer a price for my head, sending a variety of bounty hunters my way, but no one had been able to collect—yet.
To many, my taking out Mab had made me something of a folk hero, given all the people the Fire elemental had stepped on, hurt, tortured, and killed climbing her way to the top of the Ashland underworld. A few folks had even been bold enough to offer me an atta girl and other kind words upon her death. But to others, especially those who walked through the shady side of life, I represented nothing more than a fat payday or the means to make a name for themselves.
Either way, I was the center of attention these days—and I hated it.
I breathed in, enjoying the peace and quiet after the tight, nervous tension that permeated the restaurant. It was early April, and the nights were still cold and frosty, although the warm days whispered of spring. I heaved the trash bags into the closest Dumpster, but instead of going inside, I lingered in the alley outside the back of the restaurant.
I skimmed my fingers over the rough brick and reached out with my magic. As a Stone elemental, I could create, control, and manipulate the element in whatever form it took, from making bricks fly out of the wall in front of me to crumbling cobblestones to shattering the foundation of a house. I could even make my own skin as hard as marble, so that nothing could hurt me. I’d relied on that particular trick a lot these past few weeks.
My power also let me listen to the stone around me and all the emotional vibrations that it contained. People’s actions, thoughts, and feelings sink into their surroundings over time, especially stone, as folks live, love, die, and more. Listening to the bricks that made up the Pork Pit was one of my favorite things to do because the sound was almost always the same—one of low, slow contentment, just like the minds, hearts, and stomachs of all the folks who’d eaten in the restaurant. A good meal was one of the few things that could satisfy even the pickiest soul, and the Pit had served up its fair share of fine food over the years. I breathed in again, letting that soft sound fill me and soothe away all the stress of the day, all the stress, turmoil, and worry of the last few weeks.
Calmer, I dropped my hand and turned to go inside when the crackle of magic filled the air.
In addition to humans, dwarves, giants, and vampires, Ashland also had a substantial elemental population. Magic could take many forms, could manifest in all sorts of unusual ways, which meant that elementals in the city and beyond had everything from the ability to create balls of lightning in the palms of their hands to being able to control bodies of water. But to be considered a true elemental, you had to be gifted in one of the four main areas—Air, Fire, Ice, or Stone. I was the rarest of elementals in that I was able to tap into not one but two areas, Ice and Stone.
I narrowed my eyes and focused on the other person’s magic, which felt like red-hot sparks landing on my skin. A Fire elemental, judging by the way the scars embedded in my palms began to itch and burn. The marks on both my hands were the same. A small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. A spider rune. The symbol for patience. Something that I was getting real short on these days.
I sighed and turned around. Sure enough, two guys stood in the alley behind me. One was a giant, judging by his seven-foot frame, while the other was human and an elemental. A ball of Fire flickered in the palm of his hand, gently bobbing up and down.
Ding, ding, Gin Blanco wins again.
“Let me guess,” I drawled. “You’re here to take out the notorious Spider.”
The giant started to speak, but I held up my hand, cutting him off.
“I really don’t care to listen to your blustering manifesto about what absolute badasses the two of you are and how you’re going to make me beg for mercy by the time you’re through with me,” I said. “I just want to say this—do yourselves a favor. Walk away now, and I won’t kill you.”
“Did you hear that, Billy?” the Fire elemental cackled. “The Spider’s going to go soft on us tonight. Lucky us.”
Billy, the giant, cracked his knuckles together, a grin splitting his face. “She doesn’t look so tough to me, Bobby.”
I rolled my eyes. Most people might not know for sure that I was the Spider, but you’d think by now enough folks had disappeared in and around the Pork Pit for everyone else to realize that it might be a good idea to steer clear of me and my restaurant.
“Let’s get her!” Bobby screamed.
The giant let out a loud whoop of agreement.
Apparently not.
They rushed me at the same time, and Bobby threw his elemental Fire at me. He was strong in his magic but, compared to the blazing inferno that I’d faced when I’d killed Mab, his power felt as weak as a candle flame. Still, I ducked out of the way. I had no desire to have my hair singed off again this week.
I rolled to my left, came up on one knee, and grabbed the lid of one of the metal trash cans in the alley. I held the lid up over my head just in time for Billy to plant his massive fist into it. The sharp, ringing force of the giant’s blow rocked me back for a moment. Billy raised his fist again, and I lashed out with my foot, driving my boot into his knee. Billy grunted and stumbled forward, one hand going to the alley floor, putting him down on my level.
I looked him in the eyes, smiled, and smashed the metal lid into his face as hard as I could.
It took several hard, sharp, ringing blows, but eventually blood started to pour out of Billy’s broken, bulbous nose and the deep, jagged cuts that I opened up on his face. I hit him again with the trash can lid, driving the metal into his square chin, and the giant toppled over onto his back. His head cracked against the ground, and he let out a low groan. Down for the count already. Amateur.
Bobby looked stunned, just stunned, that I’d taken out his friend so easily. But his expression quickly changed to one of concern when I got to my feet and started walking toward him, holding the metal lid out in front of me like a shield. Bobby backpedaled, but he forgot to look behind him. He’d taken only two steps before he was pressed up against the side of one of the Dumpsters. Frantic, he snapped his fingers together over and over again, trying to push past his panic and summon up another ball of elemental Fire.
I didn’t give him the chance.
Two seconds later, I slammed the metal lid into his face. I had to hit him only once before he crumpled to the ground.
When I was sure that neith
er man was going to get up anytime soon, I put the lid back on the trash can. The bloody dents in it matched the marks on all the other cans. More than one moron had jumped me in the alley this week. I eyed the two men, who were moaning, groaning, and trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong so quickly. I shook my head.
“Idiots,” I muttered, and went back inside the restaurant.
A mirror with a cracked corner was mounted over one of the sinks in the back. I stopped there and washed the blood and grime of the fight off my hands, since I didn’t want to make the customers any more scared of me than they already were. My hair had come loose while I’d been hitting the giant with the trash can lid, so I yanked the elastic band out and shoved my dark, chocolate brown locks back into a higher, tighter ponytail.
The clink-clink and clatter-clatter of silverware and dishes drifted through the swinging doors, along with the savory smells of grilled burgers and fries. Since it was creeping up on closing time, all of the waitstaff had already gone home for the evening, so I was alone in this part of the restaurant. Instead of going out into the storefront and getting back to work, I put my hands on the sink and leaned forward, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Cold gray eyes, dark hair, pale skin. I looked the same as always, except for the blood spatters on my cheek from the fight and the purple smudges under my eyes. I wiped the blood off with a wet paper towel easily enough, but there was nothing I could do about the circles and the matching exhaustion that had crept over me these past few weeks.
All the stares, all the whispers, all the knock-down, drag-out fights. They’d all worn me down, until now I was just going through the motions. Hell, I hadn’t even pulled out my silverstone knives tonight and permanently sliced up those bastards in the alley like I should have. Tangling with the Spider once was enough for most folks, but those morons would probably be stupid enough to make another run at me.
I let out a frustrated sigh. Weariness was a dangerous feeling, especially for an assassin. If I didn’t do something about it, eventually I’d slip up and make a careless mistake. Then I’d wind up dead, my head served up on a silver platter to Jonah McAllister or whatever lowlife finally got the drop on me.
Much as I hated to admit it, Finn was right. I needed a vacation—from being the Spider.
I pushed through the double doors, stepping into the restaurant storefront. Once again, everyone froze at my appearance, as if they expected me to whip out a gun from underneath my blue work apron and start shooting. I ignored the curious, fearful, suspicious looks, went back over to the counter, grabbed my knife, and started slicing tomatoes again for the last of the day’s sandwiches.
“Took you long enough,” Finn said. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost back there.”
“Not exactly. I had another pair of unexpected visitors I had to entertain.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Injured or dead?”
“Merely injured. What can I say? I was in a charitable mood tonight.”
Finn arched his eyebrow a little higher at my sarcasm. Charity was one thing that assassins, even semiretired assassins like me, couldn’t afford to have too much of. Especially not these days, when every wannabe hood in Ashland wanted a piece of me.
It took me the better part of a minute and two tomatoes to work up to my next words. Finn might be right, but I hated to let him know it. He tended to gloat about things like that.
“You know that vacation you were talking about?”
“Yes?” Finn asked, a sly, satisfied note creeping into his smooth voice.
I sighed, knowing that I was beaten. “When do we leave?”
2
Three days later, Thursday, I was cruising in a silver Aston Martin convertible, the top down and the wind whipping my hair into a hopelessly tangled mess.
And I wasn’t alone.
My sister, Detective Bria Coolidge, belted out beach tune after classic beach tune at the top of her lungs as she steered the car down the narrow two-lane road. Her shaggy blond hair glistened like honey in the spring sun, and the warm rays had already brought out the pleasing pink in her cheeks. Oversize sunglasses hid her blue eyes from sight, and her lips were curved up into a smile.
“Come on, Gin,” Bria wheedled. “Sing along with me. I know you know the songs.”
I pulled down my own sunglasses and looked over the tops of the black lenses at her. “Sorry,” I drawled. “Assassins don’t sing—ever.”
Bria snorted and turned up the radio.
It was just us girls in the convertible, which was reluctantly on loan from Finn. My foster brother collected cars like some people did glass figurines, and this convertible was the newest addition to his prized fleet.
“Try not to get blood on or in it, okay?” he’d grumbled this morning outside the Pork Pit. “In fact, don’t even think about blood within a five-foot radius of my baby. No, wait. Better make that ten feet. Would twenty feet be asking too much?”
Bria leaned over and plucked the keys out of his hand. “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll take good care of it, I promise. I’ve already decided on a strict no-blood-and-bodies policy this weekend.”
Finn scowled at her for making light of his fears, but his green eyes were soft and warm as he leaned forward to kiss her good-bye. Despite years of womanizing, he’d fallen hard for my sister—and she for him. They were a good fit. Bria’s quiet, thoughtful nature balanced out Finn’s boisterous antics, and he made her smile and laugh when she needed to the most.
“Well,” he said, stepping away from the car. “You girls have fun.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We will.”
Finn eyed me. “You say that now, Gin, but let’s face it: your idea of fun is different from most folks’. That’s what worries me.”
“I’m with Bria. No blood and bodies this weekend. I promised her. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I made the matching gesture over my chest, but Finn just snorted and shook his head in disbelief. Couldn’t blame him for that. Trouble had a way of finding me whether I wanted it to or not.
That had been several hours ago, and now we were almost to our destination—Blue Marsh, a swanky beach town situated on an island on the Georgia–South Carolina line that was within spitting distance of Savannah.
It had been my idea to make the journey down here into a road trip with just the two of us, since Finn and Owen Grayson, my lover, were tied up until tomorrow. Finn was using his wiles as an investment banker to broker some huge, supersecret deal for Owen, who was one of the wealthiest and most powerful businessmen in Ashland. I didn’t know the details, and I didn’t really want to. Finn wasn’t always legal and aboveboard in his methods, any more than I was in mine.
I was glad that the boys weren’t with us because it gave me a chance to spend some quality time with my sister—something I thought we needed now more than ever. Even though Bria had been back in my life for several months, I couldn’t help but stare at her whenever we were together, and not just because she was beautiful. So many bad things had happened to me over the years, to us, that some small part of me couldn’t help wondering when it would all end. When I’d wake up from this wonderful dream I was having of Bria’s being back in my life. Of our trying to be a family again, trying to be sisters again. Hell, just trying to be friends instead of strangers who shared the same magic and DNA—strangers who seemed to be growing further apart instead of closer together, no matter how hard I tried to make it otherwise.
The truth was that with Mab dead, my baby sister didn’t need me to protect her anymore. The danger was over, the threats were past. Bria was to free to live her life on her own terms—with or without me in it. The idea that she might choose to do it without me scared me more than I ever would admit to anyone—even myself.
That’s why this trip was so important to me and why I’d suggested that we come down a day early. I wanted to get to know Bria—the real Bria, the person she was when she wasn’t out chasin
g bad guys, being threatened by Mab, or otherwise in danger.
I needed this weekend to work, to be fun and relaxing and carefree. I needed Bria to see that there was more to me than just being the Spider—that there was more to us besides banding together to fight a common enemy and being sisters in name only. I just hoped Bria felt the same way—that she realized there was something special between us. Something worth saving.
“What are you staring at?” Bria asked when the last song on the CD finally ended. “Do I have a bug in my teeth or something?”
“You,” I said. “I’m staring at you because you look . . . happy.”
I didn’t think my sister had been happy since she’d come back to Ashland late last year. After Mab had killed our mother and older sister when we were kids, Bria and I had been separated, each of us thinking that the other was dead. I’d lived on the streets, while Bria had been adopted by a family in Savannah. But my mentor, Fletcher Lane, had managed to bring us together after his death. He’d sent me a photo of Bria, letting me know that she was alive, and he’d done the same to Bria by sending her a picture of one of the spider rune scars on my palms. We’d both started searching for each other as a result, but our reunion had been anything but smooth.
Bria was a cop, one of the few honest ones in Ashland, and she’d been determined to discover the Spider’s real identity and bring her—me—to justice. When my sister had found out that her long-lost big sister, Genevieve Snow, had grown up to be a notorious assassin, well, let’s just say it wasn’t the best news she’d ever heard.
We’d been working on our relationship ever since. I’d thought we were making some real progress—until Mab had kidnapped Bria several weeks ago. The Fire elemental had figured out my connection to Bria, so she’d put a price on my sister’s head to smoke me out. A bounty hunter named Ruth Gentry had eventually captured Bria and taken her to Mab.
By a Thread Page 2
