Deadly Sting

by Jennifer Estep

  After a moment, I grinned. If Clementine wanted to blow something up, I’d be more than happy to oblige her.

  13

  I decided to leave Anton where he lay on the pavement in front of the bridge. I didn’t care if anyone found him. If things went according to my plan, everyone would know about me in a few more minutes anyway.

  I stepped over the giant’s body, walked through the bridge entrance, and dropped to my knees in front of the board I’d seen them messing with earlier. I clicked on the flashlight and moved the beam back and forth over the area. A symbol had been scorched into the top of the wood: a small circle surrounded by several wavy rays.

  A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab’s personal rune.

  Well, I supposed that using that particular rune was rather appropriate, since the giants intended to steal all of the Fire elemental’s treasures. I wondered if Clementine was as big a fan of irony as I was. Probably not.

  The symbol glowed with a faint orange light, as though it were still hot and smoking from being burned into the wood. Usually, some action was required to trigger a rune like this. If it had been traced into a door, whoever was unlucky enough to open it would get a face full of elemental Fire for his or her trouble. In this case, it seemed like the giants planned to detonate the bomb underneath to get the rune to flare to life and add to the fire, heat, and damage from the explosive itself.

  Well, not if I could help it.

  I set the flashlight down, then put my hand on the adjoining board, careful not to touch and jostle the other piece of wood—or the rune on top of it—in any way. I had no desire to blow myself to kingdom come. At least, not before I’d saved my friends.

  I flattened my hand on the wood, feeling a splinter stab into my thumb, then reached for my Ice magic. Once again, a cold silver light flickered, centered on the spider rune scar in my palm. It only took a moment for me to bring my magic to bear. Elemental Ice crystals quickly spread out from my palm, across the wood, and onto the adjoining board with the rune on it. I concentrated, forcing the crystals to flow all around the sunburst rune without actually touching it. Then, when the entire board was coated with an inch of my Ice, I let the crystals creep inward toward the rune.

  The sunburst hissed and flashed with the elemental Fire it contained, threatening to erupt, engulf me in its deadly heat, and trigger the bomb below. But I slowly, carefully forced my Ice on top of the symbol, choking the Fire with the cold crystals of its opposing element.

  Sweat beaded on my temples and gathered in the hollow of my throat, my head ached from concentrating so hard, and my flattened hand trembled and threatened to cramp with every passing second. Releasing a sudden burst of raw, unfocused magic was one thing. Even the weakest elemental could do that with relative ease, and it was the most popular form of attack during the desperate moments of an elemental duel. But small, controlled, precise bits of magic like this were difficult, tricky, and draining.

  Still, it was something I’d been working on lately with Jo-Jo. I was strong in my magic, but I wanted to be smart with it too. Part of that meant going beyond raw, brutal force and learning how to better focus my power and use it to control, manipulate, and manage my elements and their impact on the environment around me. Simply put, I wanted to develop more of the finesse that Clementine had mentioned to Owen earlier.

  And now here I was, doing the same thing to the sunburst rune that Owen was doing to the silverstone vault door. I wondered if he was having as difficult a time with it as I was. Probably not, since he used his magic like this all the time in his forge, crafting some new sculpture or weapon. He didn’t have the sheer power that I did, but he definitely had the finesse aspect of his magic down pat.

  Thinking about Owen motivated me to focus even more. I forced another layer of Ice over the sunburst rune, and the last bit of elemental Fire was finally snuffed out, choked to death by the cold power of my magic. I let out a breath that frosted in the air, despite the sticky summer humidity.

  The rune neutralized, I was still careful as I used the crowbar to pry up the board and remove the bomb that had been taped to the underside. I put down the crowbar, picked up the flashlight, and focused the beam on the device. I was no expert in explosives, but Finn liked to make the occasional bomb in his spare time, and he’d taught me something about them. This one was pretty standard. A brick of what looked like C-4 with an attached cell phone that could be used either as a remote trigger or as a timer methodically ticking down until the bomb went boom.

  I clicked off the flashlight, put it through a loop on my belt, and got to my feet. Since Clementine and her men weren’t ready to leave the museum just yet, I felt safe enough carrying the bomb in my bare hand. Besides, I planned on using it soon enough.

  So, bomb in hand, I turned, slid into the shadow-filled gardens once more, and headed back toward the museum.

  * * *

  The main doors to the museum now stood wide open to make it easier for the giants to haul their ill-gotten goods outside, I supposed. But no one was loading the trucks at the moment, so I was able to slide back into my spot between the museum wall and the greenery that ringed the building. There were a couple of other things I wanted to check before I put the next part of my plan into action. I set the bomb down next to a patch of briars that had sprung up in the middle of the rhododendrons and wiggled my way through the bushes. A few branches tugged at my hair, while twigs and leaves added more faint scratches to my arms, but I broke free to the other side. After that, it was simply a matter of crouching low, running over to the moving truck the giants had been loading up earlier, dropping to my stomach, and scooting underneath the large vehicle.

  The caustic scents of gas, exhaust, and motor oil assaulted my nose, but I held back a cough and slithered forward, the pavement digging into my hips and stomach. Dixon had been messing around next to the truck for a reason, and I wanted to know what it was. When I reached the rear bumper of the truck, I rolled over so that I was on my back, slid the flashlight out of my belt, turned it on, and focused the beam up at the underside of the truck.

  Nothing. I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Just the wheels, pipes, and axles that made up any large vehicle. I moved the light this way and that, but I didn’t see anything suspicious. In fact, the vehicle looked exceptionally well cared for, and all the parts practically gleamed, including the muffler and the box that was attached to it—

  Wait a second. I was no mechanic, but mufflers didn’t have boxes on their sides, as far as I knew. I wiggled up a little more so I could get a better look, and I realized that there was a hole in the box. I reached up and hooked my finger in the slot. To my surprise, the metal slid back easily, revealing what was inside the box.

  Another bomb.

  I froze, wondering if I might have somehow armed the device just by opening the box, but as the seconds passed and I didn’t get blown into next week, I relaxed.

  A little.

  I let out a tense breath and slowly moved the light over the device. This bomb was just like the one I’d pried off the bridge board, a brick of explosive with a cell-phone trigger. It wasn’t an enormous bomb, but it probably had enough juice to torch the truck and everything in it. That must have been what Dixon was checking with his phone earlier—to make sure that he could blow the device when the time was right.

  I frowned, even more puzzled than before. Why would Dixon rig the moving truck to blow? Especially since there was already several millions of dollars’ worth of art on it, with more on the way. Blowing the bridge was one thing. Clementine needed that to help with her escape. But this—this made no sense. Why destroy the things you had come here to steal in the first place?

  I lay there under the truck a moment longer, thinking. Then I turned off my flashlight and wormed my way out from underneath the vehicle. I got to my feet, crept to the front of the truck, and looked inside the cab, but it was empty except for a set of keys hanging in the ignition.

  I qu
ickly scurried around to the other three trucks and looked into their cabs as well, but they too were all empty except for their respective keys. Since they giants hadn’t started loading them up yet, the backs of them were all still shut and locked.

  I paused a moment, thinking. Not seeing or hearing any giants headed my way, I decided to risk checking on one more thing.

  I climbed into the back of the truck that was open, the one that I’d seen the giants stuffing with art earlier.

  It was almost full, with only a narrow path leading from the front to the back, and I imagined the giants would fill in the rest of the available space soon enough. I snapped my flashlight back on, moving it over everything inside. Rolled-up tubes, bubble-wrapped statues, empty frames made of gold and silver. The giants had certainly been thorough in their looting.

  But there was one thing that was missing: the silverstone case that I’d seen Dixon carrying earlier.

  I moved the flashlight over everything again, but the case wasn’t here, which meant that the jewelry wasn’t in the truck. But Dixon hadn’t been carrying the case when he’d come out here with the giants before. So where had he taken the jewelry? And why not store it in here with everything else?

  I snapped off the light and stood in the darkness, thinking some more. Then I shook my head, slid the flashlight back through the loop on my belt, and crept toward the open end of the truck.

  Once I made sure that the coast was clear and no giants were coming my way, I hopped out of the back of the truck and slipped into the shadows again. I thought about prying the bomb off the undercarriage, but I decided to leave the device where it was. I already had one explosive, and, really, that was all that I needed.

  Because now it was time to spin my own web of death and destruction—and for Clementine to finally feel the Spider’s sting.

  * * *

  My next destination wasn’t nearly as picturesque as the covered bridge.

  I stopped long enough to retrieve the first bomb from where I’d left it behind the bushes. Then I hurried down into the parking lot and scurried through the rows of cars until I reached Finn’s Aston Martin.

  I checked to make sure there weren’t any giants lurking around, but the area was deserted. Once I was satisfied that I was alone, I scooted around to the front of the car and the tag there—FINNSTOY. I shook my head at his vanity, then reached around behind the tag until I felt something small, hard, and metal. I gave it a good yank, and a car key slid into my hand.

  Given the shady life we led and all the people Finn, Fletcher, and I had killed over the years, the extra key was a little safety precaution we took. Finn had them stashed on all his vehicles, just like I had one on my car. Just in case one of us wanted to get into the other’s ride without making a lot of noise or needed to make a quick, clean getaway.

  I used the key to pop the trunk, which contained a couple of black duffel bags. Finn always kept extra gear in his various cars, just as I had some stashed in the back of the Pork Pit, at Jo-Jo’s salon, and other places that I frequented. In case of emergencies. I’d say tonight definitely qualified as one of those.

  I unzipped one of the duffel bags. Pistols, silencers, ammunition, cleaning oil. Most of the items inside were gun-related, since those were Finn’s weapons of choice. I dumped the gun I’d taken off the giant and grabbed one of Finn’s instead, along with a silencer and several clips of ammo. Guns jammed too much for my liking, but my foster brother was obsessive about keeping his in tip-top shape, so I knew they would be far more reliable than the giant’s.

  Finn also had an extra suit, shirt, tie, and socks and a pair of glossy wing tips stowed in a small suitcase in the trunk, along with an iron. Not helpful, unless I wanted to steam and starch someone to death. I shook my head again, this time at his obsessiveness when it came to his appearance.

  Finally, I unzipped the final bag—my bag.

  Finn kept some of his things in my car, and I reciprocated in his. After the gun, the next items I grabbed were two extra knives and their holsters. I buckled the bands of leather around my thighs and slid the weapons into the appropriate slots. Now I had four blades instead of just two. Good for me, bad for everyone else.

  Last, I pulled a pair of black boots out of my bag.

  The scarlet heels I’d worn earlier were still tied to the leather belt around my waist. After dropping them in the trunk, I grabbed a pair of socks out of the bag and sat on the rim of the open trunk. I used some of the cut-off fabric from my dress to wipe as much of the dirt, dew, and grass off my feet as I could before sliding the cotton socks and boots onto my feet.

  The black socks and boots didn’t exactly go with my dress. Or maybe they did, given how tattered, torn, and bloodstained the scarlet gown was now. Either way, now I wouldn’t have to watch where I was walking or worry about cutting up my feet. Besides, I felt better in the boots—stronger and more grounded. Steel toes tend to bolster a girl’s confidence in her ability to kick some serious ass.

  When I was properly attired, I walked around the car, opened the passenger door, and grabbed my purse off the seat. I didn’t carry a purse all the time, and I hadn’t wanted to keep up with one tonight, which is why I’d left it in the car. But there was one final item in the tiny bag that I needed—a cell phone.

  Clementine had mentioned that she had set up jammers inside the museum to stop people from calling the cops, but I was hoping that she hadn’t thought to put them outside too, especially way down here in the parking lot. I powered up the device and was pleased to see that I had a signal.

  I checked the time. Ten-oh-three. Forty minutes had passed since I’d stepped outside the museum. Owen should almost be through the vault door by now, if Clementine’s calculations had been correct. Add the twenty minutes I’d spent roaming around inside the museum, and Phillip had been shot roughly an hour ago. That meant he probably had another hour left. Maybe two if we were both lucky.

  Tick, tick, tick. Time to get on with things.

  I touched a contact on my cell phone. It rang three times before she picked it up.

  “Detective Coolidge.” My sister’s warm, confident voice flooded the line.

  “Hey there, baby sister,” I drawled. “Have I got a story to tell you.”

  14

  “Are you joking?” Bria asked three minutes later when I’d finished explaining everything. “Please, please, please tell me that you’re joking.”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “You’re telling me that a group of giants is holding everyone at the Briartop museum hostage? And robbing the place while they’re at it?”

  “You got it,” I replied. “I’m out here in the parking lot, taking a halftime break before I head back in and let Clementine know that things aren’t sewn up quite as neatly as she thinks they are.”

  “What are you going to do, Gin?”

  The suspicion in her voice might as well have been code for How many people are you planning to kill? Always a valid question when it came to the Spider.

  “Well, right now, I’m going to take the bomb I got off the bridge, go back into the museum, and blow something up. I haven’t decided what, exactly. Any suggestions?”

  Bria was silent for a moment. Then she let out a rueful laugh. “Well, I’d suggest the abstract wing. I never understood what all the fuss was about with that. Art should look like art, trees and flowers and people, not weird shapes and splotches of color all smeared together.”

  I grinned, even though she couldn’t see me. “A woman after my own heart.”

  Through the phone, I heard Bria typing on her keyboard. She was at the police station, and as soon as I’d told her Clementine’s name and description, she’d started searching for information on the giant.

  “Here she is. Clementine Barker. Fifty-eight. Lives on Bear Hollow Road. Head of Barker Industries. Private security firm offering personal and corporate protection. I’m looking at the company website right now . . .” Bria let out a low whistle. “Wow. I
t looks like she’s hired at least fifty, sixty giants in the last few weeks, judging from all the announcements on their press page.”

  “She actually put all her new hires on her website?”

  “Yep,” Bria said. “She’s got up photos and bios listing all of the giants’ credentials.”

  “Well, that would certainly fit in with the rah-rah-giants speech she gave in the rotunda earlier.”

  I told Bria what Clementine had said about getting her crew together so the giants could finally take what should have been theirs all along from the museum and everyone at the gala. When I finished, Bria hit some more buttons on her computer.

  “No arrests on record for Clementine or her daughter, Opal,” Bria continued. “But it looks like her nephew has had more than a few brushes with the law. Dixon Barker: bar fights, drunk and disorderlies, even an assault charge he managed to skate on a few months ago.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “I’ve seen Dixon. He’s a real Prince Charming.”

  “As for Clementine, it looks like she’s kept her nose clean, although there have been several complaints filed against her, her company, and her employees for assault, intimidation, things like that. She’s also been questioned in a couple of murders. Seems like a few folks that Clementine was providing protection to died under mysterious, violent circumstances on her watch.”

  “You mean that she helped them along herself. Or got a better offer from someone else to eliminate her clients.”

  Bria snorted. “I’d say that’s a distinct possibility from the autopsy photos I’m looking at right now. Most of the victims were beaten to death. No weapons were ever recovered, so I’d say Clementine used her fists on them. Nothing’s stuck, though. Seems like Clementine has enough money and clout to get herself out of most scrapes. That, or she’s paid off enough of the right people in the police department to make some of the more serious unpleasantness simply go away.”