Sharpest Sting

by Jennifer Estep

  So I gently tugged my hand out of hers and wiped away my tears. “Yeah. Tell me the rest of it.”

  “Ryan thinks an elemental caused those injuries.” She paused. “A Stone elemental.”

  I could hear what she wasn’t saying. Not just any Stone elemental—Mason.

  A loud, vicious curse spewed out of my lips. My fingers clenched around the edges of the open folder, and a sudden urge filled me to rip it to shreds, along with the papers and photos inside. But destroying them wouldn’t change what had happened to my father. Nothing would ever change that, and the awful images were now permanently burned into my brain, as though each picture was a red-hot brand sizzling inside my mind.

  Bria wet her lips. “You’re a Stone elemental too. How…how would you do something like that, Gin?”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to answer her question, didn’t want to think about this a moment longer. But she needed to know what we were up against, so I forced myself to open my eyes and study the photos again. Not as a daughter and not even as an assassin. What had been done to my father went beyond mere killing. This action had sprung from a deep well of hatred, a sharp sting of rage unlike any I had ever encountered before.

  “Gin?” Bria asked in a low, strained voice. “How would you do it?”

  I held up my hand and slowly curled my fingers into a tight fist. “I would coat my hand with my Stone magic to make my skin, my fist, as hard as a cement block. Then, when I had a good grip on my power, I would start hitting the other person. Over and over again. Their skin would bruise first, but I would keep going, using more magic, more power, more force, until I broke their bones.”

  Bria shuddered out a ragged breath at my cold, clinical tone. “And then?”

  “And then, when their bones were broken, I would coat both of my hands with my Stone magic, so that I had a strong, unbreakable grip. Then I would dig my fingers deep into their skin, grab hold of their arms and legs and fingers and toes, and wrench their bruised muscles and broken bones even farther apart. Twisting and twisting, again and again. Until you got this.”

  I couldn’t stand to look at the photos anymore, so I shoved them and the folder off my lap and down to the floorboard. They landed with soft whispers, although the faint scraping sounds seemed as loud as my father’s phantom bones breaking in my mind. I flinched, and another sob rose in my throat. This time, I couldn’t swallow it down, and the small, strangled, anguished cry escaped my lips.

  Bria grabbed my hand again, her fingers shockingly warm as they wrapped around my cold fist. Even though I wasn’t using my Ice or Stone magic, wasn’t reaching for my power at all, my body still felt frozen and stiff.

  “It’s okay, Gin. It’s okay,” Bria murmured. “We’re going to find Mason. We’re going to get the bastard. For Dad, for Mom, for Annabella. He’s never going to hurt anyone else like he’s hurt us.”

  She squeezed my hand again, then rubbed it between her own two, trying to bring some warmth to my skin and get me to unclench my fist. I sat there and dully watched her work.

  Bria kept murmuring words of revenge and encouragement. She probably thought I was upset about what had happened to Tristan. That was part of it, but our father was dead. Mason couldn’t hurt him anymore.

  No, what coated my heart with icy dread was the agonizing worry and paralyzing fear that I wasn’t strong enough to stop Mason and that my murderous uncle would torture and kill Bria and everyone else I loved the same way he had killed my father.

  Chapter Five

  It took me a few minutes to push away my dread, worry, and fear, but I forced myself to lean forward, pick up the papers and photos, and shove them back into the folder. I laid the file on the center console between Bria and me, then scooted away from it. I didn’t even want to look at it right now, much less think about the ugly things it contained.

  Bria’s phone chirped. She fished it out of her pocket and read the message. “Lorelei says they’re waiting for us inside.”

  “Then we should go,” I said in a dull, tired tone.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, Gin. I just thought you would want to know. That you would want to see the photos…no matter how horrific they were.”

  I forced myself to nod as though everything was okay. “You’re right. I did want to know. I’m glad you showed them to me.”

  If nothing else, the photos had made me even more determined to protect my sister and everyone else. The thing that concerned me was that I didn’t know how to actually do it.

  Bria and I left the folder in her car, crossed the parking lot, and stepped into the Posh boutique.

  The boutique had been remodeled and had expanded into a neighboring storefront since the last time I’d been here. Designer dresses lined the walls, while free-standing racks of even fancier frocks took up the center of the store. Cocktail, evening, bridal, prom. The boutique featured a gown, pantsuit, and catsuit for every occasion, along with counters brimming with makeup, shoes, and purses. A glass case full of sparkling sapphire bracelets, gleaming ruby rings, and other expensive jewelry ran along the back wall, in case you wanted to add some serious bling to your ensemble.

  I was so busy looking at the dresses, shoes, and jewelry that it took me a few seconds to realize that the boutique itself had been decked out for today’s occasion.

  Enormous white paper wedding bells and hearts swooped down from the ceiling, along with royal-blue ribbons with Mallory + Stuey printed on them in shiny silver letters. More white, blue, and silver ribbons curled along the tops of the dress racks and display counters, while a large silver banner bearing the happy couple’s names in blue sequins glittered on the back wall above the jewelry counter. Crystal vases filled with white, blue, and purple orchids sat on tables throughout the boutique, along with platters of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla petit fours. Several bottles of champagne were chilling in ice buckets beside the tables.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered. “I thought we were just doing a final fitting for our bridesmaid dresses.”

  “I have no idea,” Bria whispered back.

  “Gin! Bria! There you are!” a light feminine voice called out.

  A woman stepped out from behind a rack of dresses and walked over to us. Her short black hair framed her face, and her mint-green pantsuit highlighted her lovely toffee eyes and skin, along with her gorgeous curves. A square emerald dangled from the silver chain around her neck, and a matching ring sparkled on her finger. She looked like a model who had stepped out of the pages of some high-fashion magazine.

  “Roslyn?” I asked. “What are you doing here? Are you in the wedding too?”

  Roslyn Phillips, another one of our friends, laughed. “In a manner of speaking. The wedding planner came down with the flu, so Mallory asked me to help with a few last-minute details for your fitting, along with some of the other events leading up to the big day.”

  Roslyn ran Northern Aggression, the hottest nightclub in Ashland, so she was used to showing people a good time. Helping Mallory navigate through the rest of her wedding week would probably be a piece of cake compared to dealing with everyone who crammed into Roslyn’s club on a nightly basis.

  “Gin! Bria! I’m so happy you’re here!” another voice called out, although this one was older and rougher and had far more of a hillbilly twang than Roslyn’s soft, dulcet tones.

  Two other women stepped into view. The first was my age, early thirties, with blue eyes, pale skin, and black hair pulled back into a pretty French braid. She was wearing a dark blue pantsuit, and a diamond, rose-and-thorn ring glinted on her finger, a symbol for how deadly beauty could be.

  “Hey, guys.” Lorelei Parker smiled at Bria and me. “And here is the blushing bride-to-be.”

  She gestured at the other woman, a much older dwarf who was around five feet tall. The dwarf was also wearing a pantsuit, but hers was a cool off-white that was just a shade darker than her teased cloud of hair.

  Mallory Parker waved her hand, dismissing her
granddaughter’s words. The motion caused the many carats in her diamond engagement ring to flash and sparkle.

  “Blushing? Hardly. I’ve been around the block too many times for that.” Mallory’s face softened, and a smile curved her lips, warming her blue eyes and adding a few more wrinkles to her tan skin. “But I’m so happy to be marrying my Stuey.”

  I grinned. I would never get used to her nickname for Mosley. “And where is the groom-to-be?”

  Mallory snorted. “Oh, he was here earlier, picking up his tux, but he skedaddled when Roslyn broke out the decorations. You would have thought the ribbons and bells were snakes and spiders the way Stuey hightailed it out of here.”

  We all laughed, and Mallory stepped forward and threaded her arms through mine and Bria’s. “Come on, ladies. I’m getting married in a few days, so we need to get this show on the road.” She winked at us. “Besides, all these desserts and bottles of champagne aren’t going to eat and drink themselves.”

  She pulled us deeper into the boutique, still quite strong, despite her three-hundred-plus years.

  Roslyn had reserved the entire store for our fitting, and a large area had been cleared next to the dressing rooms. Several white velvet chairs had been arranged around three round, raised daises that reminded me of oversize mushrooms. Two salesclerks were standing by, along with Willa, the seamstress.

  Mallory released Bria and me and gestured at a couple of racks of dresses. “I thought we could start with these. As you know, I’ve decided on a cool color palette. Lots of silvers and blues. None of that tacky pink and red you always see this time of year.”

  Mallory and Mosley were getting married on Saturday, Valentine’s Day, but during the rehearsal dinner, she had announced that she’d opted for a winter-themed wedding instead of the more traditional white gown and red roses extravaganza. The dwarf started flipping through the dresses, muttering to herself about royal versus sapphire blue and satin versus silk.

  “What about the dresses she picked out for us at the bridal shop last week?” I whispered to Lorelei. “The ones we came here to try on for our final fitting?”

  Lorelei glowered at Willa, the seamstress, who winced and ducked her head. “I left Grandma alone for ten minutes while Roslyn and I hung the bells and the banner, and Willa and the salesclerks started talking about a new shipment of bridesmaid dresses they got in yesterday. Grandma insisted on seeing them.”

  “And now we have to try them on?” Bria asked.

  “Yes. Apparently, I have a bridezilla on my hands.” Lorelei sighed and gestured at one of the tables. “But at least we have dessert. And champagne. Lots of champagne. I insisted on that.”

  “Smart woman,” Bria said.

  “Very smart woman,” Roslyn chimed in.

  Mallory gestured at me. “Gin! Come here! This color would look amazing on you!”

  I might be the Spider, but bridezilla definitely trumped assassin, so I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Pour me a glass of champagne, and keep ’em coming,” I muttered as I walked past Lorelei.

  She saluted me, then grabbed the closest bottle.

  * * *

  An hour later, I had drunk two glasses of champagne, eaten a platter of petit fours, and tried on a dozen dresses. Now I was standing on one of the daises, while Bria was on a second one and Lorelei was on the third.

  We were all wearing the same thing: a royal-blue gown with short sleeves, a high neckline, and a skirt dotted with small silver sequins. More silver sequins glinted on the sleeves and the bodice, making us look as though we had draped ourselves in a gorgeous night sky, complete with sparkling stars.

  Mallory clapped her hands together. “That’s it! That’s the one! I love the color, and it looks gorgeous on all three of you. It’s so much better than that other cheap rag I picked out last week.”

  The other dress had hardly been cheap or a rag, but she was right. This gown looked stunning on Bria and Lorelei and pretty good on me too. Plus, it had a long skirt to hide my knives. I might be attending a wedding, but I was still going to be armed.

  Mallory waved her hand at the two clerks. “Ladies, ring up those dresses, and put them on my account. Willa, do whatever is needed for the alterations. I want my gals to look perfect.”

  The clerks scurried away, while the seamstress grabbed a plastic box filled with pins, measuring tape, and other sewing supplies.

  “I thought bridesmaids were supposed to pay for their own dresses,” Bria said. “I’m happy to do that.”

  Mallory waved her hand again. “Nonsense, darling. It’s my shotgun wedding, so to speak, so I’m paying for everything, including the dresses.”

  Bria opened her mouth to protest. I did too, but Mallory stared us down over the rim of her champagne glass.

  “I won’t hear another word about it,” she said in a stern voice. “You’re doing me a huge favor being in the wedding on such short notice. Paying for your dresses is the least I can do.”

  My sister looked at me for help, but I shrugged back. Bridezilla also trumped detective.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bria and I said in unison.

  Now that Mallory had finally decided on our dresses, the seamstress got to work, pinning up Bria’s skirt, taking in my bodice, and adjusting Lorelei’s neckline just a bit.

  Roslyn picked up a tablet from a table and swiped through a few screens. “Now that we’ve taken care of the two bridesmaids and the maid of honor, we need to find you a dress, Mallory.”

  The dwarf nodded, got up, and started flipping through another rack of dresses.

  A few minutes later, the seamstress finished with my bodice. I stripped off the gown in one of the dressing rooms and put on my long-sleeve dark blue T-shirt and black jeans, along with my five knives—two tucked up my sleeves, one nestled in the small of my back, and two hidden in the sides of my black boots.

  Bria and Lorelei also shimmied back into their normal clothes, and then it was our turn to sit while Mallory tried on dress after dress after dress.

  “Too poofy.” Lorelei dismissed the first choice.

  “Too many sequins.” Bria doomed the second.

  “Too much tulle.” Roslyn rejected the third.

  “Too many feathers.” I nixed the fourth.

  Finally, nine (ten?) gowns later, Mallory emerged from the dressing room and stepped up onto the dais.

  “Ahhh,” Lorelei, Bria, Roslyn, and I sighed in unison.

  “That’s the one,” Lorelei declared.

  “Yep,” Bria agreed.

  “Definitely,” Roslyn replied.

  “Absolutely,” I chimed in.

  Mallory was wearing a simple sheath dress with cap sleeves. The color was somewhere between silver and blue, and the cool tone brought out the dwarf’s blue eyes and the pink in her cheeks. A thin band of silver sequins circled the waist, adding a bit of sparkle to the garment.

  “You’re right. This is the one. I won’t find a prettier dress.” She beamed at us, and we started clapping, as did the seamstress and the salesclerks.

  Mallory gave us an elegant curtsy, then held her arms out to her sides so that Willa could flutter around and mark down some minor alterations. Once the seamstress was finished, Mallory disappeared into a dressing room to put on her regular clothes, while Lorelei, Bria, Roslyn, and I relaxed and noshed on more desserts.

  Mallory was still changing when Bria’s phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket and made a face.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Duty calls,” Bria replied. “Although I have no idea why Sykes would be texting me.”

  “Who’s Sykes?” I asked.

  Roslyn rolled her eyes. “He’s this awful cop that Bria and Xavier work with. Sykes is totally lazy and can’t be bothered to do much of anything, other than drink coffee, eat doughnuts, and take bribes. He’s a total cliché, even for Ashland.”

  Xavier was Roslyn’s significant other and Bria’s partner on the force.

&nbs
p; Bria snorted out a laugh and started texting. “Coffee, doughnuts, and bribes. Yeah, that’s Sykes in a nutshell. But he says there has been a robbery in one of the nearby shopping centers. I need to respond to the scene. Gin, can you catch a ride back to the Pork Pit with someone else?”

  “I can drop her off,” Roslyn volunteered. “I’d love to get some barbecue for dinner.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “That would be great.”

  Roslyn smiled and went back to her tablet. Lorelei pulled out her phone to check her own messages, while Mallory came out of the dressing room and started talking to Willa and the clerks. Bria kept texting, and a frown flickered across her face.

  “Something wrong?” I asked again.

  She shook her head and got to her feet. “Apparently, Xavier hasn’t heard about the robbery. I texted and told him I was on my way, and he wanted to know the address.”

  That was weird. Xavier was usually right on top of things like that.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go,” Bria said. “I’ll swing by your house tonight, and we can talk more about that…file. Okay?”

  She meant the folder of information on our father’s murder. I put down the chocolate petit four I’d been about to eat. My appetite had vanished.

  “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

  Bria left the boutique. My sister was a tough-as-nails cop, with a gun on her belt and Ice magic flowing through her veins, and she could definitely take care of herself. It wasn’t unusual for her to be called to a crime scene, but this summons seemed more abrupt than most, so I got to my feet, went to the front of the boutique, and peered through the window.

  Bria hurried across the pavement, still looking at her phone. I scanned the parking lot, but I didn’t see anyone lurking among the rows of luxury vehicles. Still, the closer Bria got to her car, the more unease filled me.

  “Gin?” Lorelei walked over to me. “Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t explain the worry suddenly swirling through my body—