Deadly Sting

by Jennifer Estep

  Still, there had to be some way to use my magic against her without killing myself in the process. Oh, I’d sacrifice myself if it meant murdering her too, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not until my air was almost completely gone and I had no other chance of stopping her.

  I moved my head left and right, my gaze shooting every which way, but there wasn’t much to see. Just the marble ceiling over my head, the columns on either side of the boathouse, and the statue of the old fisherman to the left of Clementine—

  The statue.

  My gaze locked on it, but it wasn’t the figure of the old man I was interested in—it was the spear clutched in his hand. I hadn’t made a dent in the giant with my silverstone blades or Ice knife, but that spear looked to be at least six feet long and three inches thick. That spear would take down anyone, even a giant as tough and strong as Clementine Barker.

  All I had to do was find a way to finesse it right into the bitch.

  I quit fighting the giant, quit clawing at her hands, quit kicking and punching and trying to buck her off me. I even quit using my Stone magic to harden my skin. Instead, I gathered and gathered the power inside me, combining it with all the Ice magic I had left, added to what was stored in the spider rune ring on my right index finger.

  Clementine noticed that my skin had reverted back to its normal texture. She paused and drew her hand away from my nose and mouth. I sucked down breath after breath, but all the while, I kept reaching and reaching for my magic, getting ready to make one final strike with it.

  She grinned. “Out of magic already, Gin? How disappointing. I thought that the legendary Spider would be tougher to beat than this. Why, I haven’t been hitting you more than three minutes now. Going to let me beat you to death after all? Pathetic. But I have to thank you. This will be so much more fun than simply smothering you.”

  She drew back her fist and drove it into my chest.

  Thwack.

  One of my ribs cracked.

  Thwack.

  Another rib splintered.

  Thwack.

  She went for my shoulder that third time, and pain exploded in the socket and reverberated along my collarbone and down into my arm. Fuck. I hated having a broken collarbone.

  The pain almost overwhelmed me, but I forced it to the back of my mind and concentrated on the cold, raw fury of my magic, drawing it up from the deepest, darkest, blackest part of me. I let the Ice power flood my body first, numbing me from head to toe, until I couldn’t feel the sharp, pulsing pain in my ribs or the fact that my collarbone felt like broken bits of confetti barely clinging together. I reached for more and more of my Ice magic until all I felt was cold—and the determination to end this bitch once and for all.

  Clementine stopped hitting me long enough to throw back her head and laugh again. She didn’t notice me stretch my arms out to either side of my body and press my palms flat on the stone walkway. Looking past Clementine, I stared at the statue of the old man, my gaze narrowing in on the spear in his hand.

  Finally, she quit laughing. “But as much as I’d love to break every single bone in your body, you were right before, Gin,” Clementine said. “I have a boat to catch and a fortune to spend. It’s a crying shame that Opal and Dixon won’t be around to help me use all that money, but I’ll toast to them—and your death—with the finest champagne. Good-bye, oh, great and not-so-mighty Spider.”

  Clementine drew back her fist for the final, killing blow. Instead of trying to fight her off, I reached out with my Stone magic, pushing it toward the statue. The giant finally noticed that I wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. She hesitated, wondering what I was doing.

  “You know what, Clem?” I mumbled through a mouthful of blood, my eyes still on the statue.

  “What?”

  “Don’t count your diamonds before they’re fenced,” I snarled.

  And that’s when I finally unleashed my power.

  26

  I pushed my magic out through the marble. The force of it made the walkway ripple like the surface of the river below us, but I focused, aiming the power across the floor and then forcing it up into the statue. The figure of the old man seemed to shudder as my magic raced up his legs, then spread into his chest and out into his arms.

  Clementine felt the walkway rise and fall beneath us. She glanced at me a moment, then turned her head to look over her shoulder, trying to figure out what I was doing with my magic. “What the—”

  I focused even more and pushed more of my magic into the statue, putting everything I had into the marble—all of my Stone magic, all of my Ice power, every single drop of magic that I had left, along with what was stored in my spider rune ring. And then I grabbed hold of all that magic, all that power, and I made the statue move.

  It was difficult—so damn difficult. It was one thing to fling around raw magic. Any elemental could do that, just like any giant could throw a couple of punches. But this was a finesse job, a surgical strike, just like what Owen had done earlier tonight in the vault and how I had disarmed the rune trap on the covered bridge.

  Just like my fight with Peter Delov all those years ago. Back then, I’d made the giant go where I wanted him to, and now I was going to do the same exact thing to Clementine.

  I wanted to unleash my magic more than anything, wanted to send it racing out through the marble in all directions until it pulverized the statue and every other rock it came into contact with.

  That wouldn’t save me, but maybe this would.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the old man shuddered again. Bits of marble chipped off his arms and legs, but his stone chest slowly swiveled in my direction, and so did the spear in his right hand.

  Sweat poured down my body, mixing with my blood, but the only things I was aware of were that spear and the growing mutters of the marble as I forced it to go exactly where I commanded it to.

  Clementine finally realized that I was up to something, because she leaned forward and clamped her hands over my nose and mouth once more. “Oh, no you don’t—”

  I’d gotten the statue into position. Now it was time to do the same thing to the giant. I sent out a burst of magic, forcing a bit of my Ice and Stone power into a small crack I’d sensed in the side of the statue.

  The old man’s left arm shattered with a roar.

  Clementine’s head snapped around just in time to see the explosion of stone. Instinct took over, and she lurched to one side, trying to get out the way of the falling bits of rock. But I reached out, dug my hand into the back of her tuxedo vest, and held on tight, keeping one eye on the statue all the while. My deadweight took Clementine by surprise and made her pull up short. She grunted and lunged forward again, causing her vest to rip down the back. So I lashed out, driving my foot into the back of her knee and making her land on her ass on the walkway.

  She sat right in front of the old man and his spear.

  Clementine started to crab-walk backward to get out of the way of the falling stone, but she put her elbow down in the same puddle of water that I had earlier, causing her arm to slip out from under her.

  Before she could even think about moving again, I focused on the statue once more, forcing my power down into the old man’s remaining arm. His fingers twitched, and the spear wobbled back and forth, causing more bits of stone to break off the figure.

  Come on, old man, I thought, still staring at the statue. Come on!

  I sent out one last, final burst of magic, putting everything I had into the statue, bending it to my will.

  The old man’s right arm snapped down and forward, ramming the stone spear straight through Clementine’s chest.

  The weight of the blow threw her back and pinned her to the ground right next to me, even as the rest of my magic ripped through the statue unchecked.

  For a moment, there was just—noise.

  Crash after crash after crash as the rest of the statue toppled over, broke off into chunks, and went flying through the boathouse. One of
the old man’s legs sailed through the air and disappeared with a plop into the river. His head spun around and around in a circle on the floor, rattling this way and that like a child’s top that was out of control. Dust choked the air, and it seemed as though the entire boathouse bucked and heaved for several seconds before the statue finally stopped breaking apart and the marble settled into place once more.

  I rolled over onto my side and lay there, panting against the pain that flooded my ribs and collarbone. I was all out of magic, and the numbing effect of my Ice power was rapidly wearing off. But I didn’t mind the pain—it told me that I was still alive.

  And so was Clementine.

  She was flat on her back, the spear sticking up out of her stomach, the old man’s arm still attached to the top of the weapon. She arched up, as if she could somehow wiggle out from under the stone tip, even though it had driven all the way through her body and punched into the walkway underneath. Clementine was pinned as securely as a butterfly in a glass case.

  The giant realized that I was staring at her. She snarled and stretched out, her hand curving into a claw as she aimed it at my throat—

  And came up two inches short.

  Clementine flailed and flailed at me, snarling and grunting and cursing all the while, but she just couldn’t move those last two precious inches in order to throttle me. Her fist slammed into the stone walkway between us over and over again in frustration, her movements getting weaker and slower with every glancing blow. After about thirty seconds of that, the last of her strength left her, and her hand dropped to the floor and stayed there.

  Still, she glared at me, her eyes bright with pain, fury, and the cold, cold death that was creeping up on her breath by breath.

  “Bet you really hate my Stone magic now, don’t you?” I said.

  Clementine opened her mouth, but no words came out, only a spurt of blood. After a moment, even that slowed and slopped. Her whole body shuddered once, her eyes dimmed, and then she was still.

  27

  I lay where I was and watched Clementine Barker die.

  When I was sure she was gone, I put a hand on the walkway and tried to push myself upright. But I moved too quickly, and the pain in my ribs and shoulder was too great. My arm slid out from under me, and I slumped back down onto the cold stone.

  I knew that I needed to move, to get up and go see how the others had fared in the rotunda, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. My vision narrowed, as though I were standing in a train tunnel, and the light at the end began to fade. Even though I tried to fight it, I felt myself sliding into that sweet blackness where there was no pain, no worry, only the dreams, the memories . . .

  I was hiding behind a table, waiting for a giant to come and kill me.

  At least, I was pretty sure that’s how it would go. But I’d set my trap for Delov anyway, knowing it was the best chance I had to kill him—the only chance, really. Now all that was left to do was see if he fell for it—

  A floorboard creaked farther down the hallway.

  I drew in a breath, trying to slow my racing heart, and peeked around the edge of the table.

  Delov stood at the end of the hall. A patch of moonlight sliding in through the lace curtains illuminated him, making him seem even larger and more dangerous than before. He squinted into the shadows, looking left and right and back again. I froze, not even daring to try to curl into a tighter, smaller ball. After a moment, the giant eased forward, heading toward the library, where Fletcher was still trying to get the yip-yappy Pomeranian to shut up.

  Game time.

  I waited until Delov had stepped into the library, then got to my feet and tiptoed across the hall, easing up against the wall. The giant snapped on a light, and its harsh golden glare filled the library like the rays of a noontime sun. Peaches started barking even louder. The dog scuttled out from underneath the desk, skipped over to Delov, and wound his way through the giant’s feet before prancing back over to the desk. The giant frowned, looking at the dog and watching his happy, excited movements. After a moment, his mouth tightened, and he raised his gun.

  “Come on out from behind that desk,” Delov growled. “I’d hate to ruin all that antique wood by plugging it full of holes, but I will.”

  Silence.

  Then the leather chair rolled away from the desk, and Fletcher slowly crawled out from his hiding place and got to his feet. He faced Delov and raised his hands. Despite the healing salve he’d used, even more blood covered Fletcher’s blue shirt than before, along with the palms of his hands where he’d used them to keep pressure on the wound.

  “You thought you could come into my house and murder me?” Delov snarled. “Who do you think you are?”

  Fletcher just grinned at him, which only infuriated the giant even more. Delov stepped forward and leveled his gun at Fletcher’s head, ready to put a few more bullets into the old man.

  And that’s when I made my move.

  I slid into the library as quiet as a shadow. Delov was so focused on Fletcher that he never thought to look behind him, so he never saw me coming. Instead of going for the giant’s back, I aimed low, slicing my knife across his right hamstring as brutally as I could, hoping to put him down on my level, so to speak. Delov let out an angry, pain-filled bellow, even as his leg buckled and slid out from under him. The gun went off, shattering one of the glass windows to Fletcher’s right and not the old man’s skull.

  But Delov wasn’t done. He rolled over onto his back, bringing his gun up and around and searching for the person who’d attacked him.

  I didn’t give him a chance to fire a second shot. I surged forward and slashed down with the knife, cutting into his right wrist. The silverstone blade skittered off the thick bones there. Delov howled with pain again, and the gun slid from his hand. I kicked it away, then threw myself on top of him—knife-first. I sank the blade deep into Delov’s chest, scraping against his ribs. The giant screamed and dug his left hand into my hair, yanking me back and off him. I kept hold of the knife, though, and as soon as the blade slid free of his chest, I twisted around and stabbed his arm with it. When he let go of my hair, I brought the knife back down into his chest again—and again and again, until his screams faded away and he finally quit fighting me.

  When it was over and Delov was dead, I got to my feet and turned to face Fletcher, who was leaning against the desk for support. The old man looked down at Delov, then Peaches, who was sniffing his master’s body.

  “I was wondering why that dog suddenly decided to come in here,” Fletcher said, lifting his green gaze to mine. “You led him and Delov straight to me, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “You used me, Gin,” he said, a note of accusation creeping into his voice. “You used me as bait for Delov. As a stalking horse.”

  I winced and nodded again. “I couldn’t think of another way to take him down. I couldn’t kill him myself, not face-to-face, anyway, and I thought I’d have a better chance with a sneak attack.”

  Fletcher didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at me with a thoughtful expression, as though I were some curious creature he’d never seen before.

  “Are you angry with me?” I whispered, my heart twisting at the thought.

  He gave me a rueful grin. “Well, I won’t deny that you gave me a scare there for a minute. But I’ll get over it. You did what you had to in order to save us both, Gin. Don’t ever apologize for that. Especially not to me. I’ve done far worse than you tonight. Used people, manipulated them, lied to them time and time again in order to accomplish my goal. Using folks, deceiving them, putting them in certain situations—it’s all part of being an assassin. If you live long enough, you’ll do worse yourself, even to folks you consider friends, maybe even to those you love. You’ll hurt them, whether by choice, chance, accident, or design.”

  I shook my head. “No, I would never do something like that.”

  “Sure you would. You just did. Here, tonight.”

  I lo
oked down at Delov. The answer was in the giant’s blood slowly soaking into the colorful rug underneath his body.

  A sad smile curved Fletcher’s lips. “I don’t blame you, Gin, and you shouldn’t blame yourself either. It’s just the nature of what we do—of what you do now. But no matter what, remember this: all that really matters in the end is protecting the people you care about, even if they don’t like how you do it, even if they hate you for it. Because I’d rather have somebody alive and hating me than dead and buried, with me knowing that I failed them.”

  I nodded, listening to his words, even if I didn’t really believe that I could ever do anything horrible enough to somebody I cared about to make him hate me for it.

  “But that’s enough philosophical talk for one night,” Fletcher said. “Delov is dead, and we aren’t. So what do you say you drive me over to Jo-Jo’s so the old girl can patch me up?”

  I nodded and pointed at the Pomeranian. “And what about Peaches? We can’t just leave him here. There’s no one to take care of him.”

  Fletcher regarded the fluffball. “No, I suppose not. Maybe we’ll give him to the Kilroy girl, the one who lived. Might help take her mind off her sister’s death. Besides, every girl should have a dog. So grab him, and let’s go.”

  While Fletcher hobbled down the hall toward our exit point, I slid the bloody knife up my sleeve and picked up the Pomeranian, staring into his soft, liquid brown eyes.

  “You’re just lucky you’re so cute,” I muttered to the dog.

  Peaches barked and licked my cheek, and I let out a relieved laugh—

  Something wet splattered onto my face, snapping me out of my memories.

  I punched my hands in the air, thinking that maybe Clementine wasn’t as dead as I thought she was. The motion made my ribs and collarbone ache worse, and I groaned with pain. A moment later, more wet drops hit my skin, and I realized that it was just the river sloshing up onto the walkway where I was lying.