Elemental Assassin: Unraveled Part 15

I could hear Roxy and Brody shouting at the giants to move their a.s.ses, and a few seconds later, all of them came running out of the back of the saloon. They stopped, glancing from one pavilion to the next, and their faces twisted with fury when they didn't spot me.

"Spread out!" Roxy barked. "Find Blanco! Now!"

"You heard her!" Brody yelled. "Search everywhere!"

The giants hurried to follow their bosses' commands, darting into the alleys that led back to Main Street, while Roxy and Brody stayed behind in the staging area. The two of them spread out, guns in hands, searching behind every single barrel, hay bale, and rack of clothes, just as I'd expected. Brody even grabbed a long, sharp pitchfork and poked it down into all the water troughs, just in case I'd suddenly developed gills and could breathe underwater like a fish. The snarky thought made me want to giggle again, but I swallowed down the crazy laughter.

"She has to be around here somewhere," Brody said. "Why didn't you give her more of that sedative?"

"I couldn't make her drink that tea," Roxy snapped back. "It's not my fault that the cook didn't dissolve all the powder in it like I told her to, and Blanco didn't like how it tasted. Besides, she still drank almost half a gla.s.s. That should be more than enough to knock her out. The other three are all out cold. I've got some of your boys taking them up to the hotel so that Tucker can question them when they wake up."

"I still don't see why he wants them alive," Brody said. "Deirdre probably hocked those jewels long ago. If they were here, we would have found them by now. He should just cut his losses and kill the lot of them instead of making us keep up this stupid charade."

"And I don't pay you to think, Mr. Dalton," a mild voice murmured.

Roxy and Brody both winced and slowly turned around. Hugh Tucker was standing at the back door of the saloon. The vampire must have followed the commotion of my mad dash through the theme park.

He walked over to Brody, and the giant whipped off his black hat in a sign of respect and deference. Roxy also removed her red Stetson and eased a few steps away from her partner. She did not want to be the center of Tucker's attention. Smart.

And neither did Brody, judging from the way the giant shifted on his feet, making his leather boots creak and the attached spurs jangle out a sharp warning.

"I heard that Blanco pistol-whipped you with your own gun during the high-noon show yesterday. Is that true?" Tucker's voice was steady, without a trace of malice, but his eyes were like two black holes in his face, completely devoid of emotion.

Brody swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm afraid that it is-"

Before he could finish, Tucker reached down, s.n.a.t.c.hed Brody's revolver out of his hand, and slammed the weapon right back into the giant's face.

Crack.

The audible sound of the giant's nose breaking rang out like a gunshot through the staging area.

Brody yelped and staggered back, blood spewing out of his rapidly swelling nose. For a second, his face flushed red and purple with surprise and rage, and his hand hovered over the second revolver strapped to his waist, as though he were actually thinking about drawing on Tucker.

But Tucker arched his black eyebrows in a silent challenge, and Brody thought better of things and dropped his hand from his gun. Tucker tossed the first revolver back at the giant, who scrambled to catch it.

I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating how fast Tucker was, but, for once, my vision remained clear. Drinking other people's blood gave most vampires enhanced strength and senses, but it seemed to make Tucker exceptionally speedy. Or perhaps he had some sort of natural vampiric ability that helped with that. Either way, he'd broken Brody's nose in the blink of an eye. I'd have to find a way to counter Tucker's speed before I killed him.

"I don't pay you to think," Tucker repeated. "I pay you to follow orders and get me the results that I want. And right now, I want Gin Blanco found and trussed up like a Christmas ham. So get out there, do your d.a.m.n job, and find her. Or next time, I'll break a lot more than just your nose." His dead black eyes focused on Roxy. "On both of you."

"Yes, sir!" Roxy and Brody both snapped out the words in unison, but Tucker had already gone back into the saloon, disappearing from sight.

They waited a few seconds to make sure that he wasn't coming back, then slowly relaxed. Brody yanked off his black-and-white paisley bandanna and pressed it to his nose, trying to stop the stream of blood dripping down his face. Roxy rubbed her thumb over and over the pearl handle of her revolver, a nervous tic.

"You heard what he said," she growled. "Now let's find that b.i.t.c.h before he comes back and makes good on his promise."

Brody gave her a sullen look, but he wiped the last of the blood off his face and helped her search the rest of the staging area. It didn't take long, and finally they both turned to stare at the stagecoach, since it was the only place they hadn't yet looked.

"She's not here," Brody said. "I'm telling you that Blanco is long gone."

"Well, check the stagecoach anyway," Roxy snapped back. "I sent giants to all the park and hotel exits right before we met Blanco and the others at the restaurant. They've all texted back to say that she didn't get past them. So she has to be somewhere in the theme park."

Brody heaved out a long, loud, suffering sigh, but he followed Roxy over to the stagecoach. She peered in the carriage below me, and a faint creak sounded as she opened the strongbox lid, just to make sure that I hadn't crammed myself in there.

"Look up on the roof," she ordered Brody.

More creaks sounded, this time from the springs, and the entire coach dipped under the giant's weight as he took hold of the ladder on the back.

I silently cursed, but there was nothing I could do. The drug had completely taken over my body, making me feel limp, languid, and slightly disconnected from everything that was happening. Plus, I was wedged in so tightly between the two rows of steamer trunks that I couldn't even palm a knife to try to take the giant by surprise when he finally spotted me.

And he would spot me.

All Brody had to do was look over the first row of trunks, and he'd see me lying here. Then he'd either pound me into oblivion or reach down, toss me off the stagecoach, and let Roxy put a few bullets in me. Either way, I was caught- "What are you two doing?" a low voice growled. "And why is everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off?"

Brody stopped climbing, although I could just see the top of the giant's black hat at the rear of the stagecoach. I turned my head and looked back out through the gap in the trunks.

Ira Morris stood in the staging area, his arms crossed over his chest, and an angry look on his weathered face. I had never been so glad to see the surly dwarf.

"Well?" he snapped. "What's going on? You two should be getting ready for the high-noon show, not lollygagging around back here. And what is wrong with Brody's nose?"

Roxy flashed Ira a smile. "Actually, we're going to have to postpone the show until later this afternoon."

Ira's eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"

"Brody and the giants were chasing after a pickpocket who made off with a woman's purse," Roxy said in a smooth voice. "The pickpocket busted up Brody's nose in the scuffle, and we were hoping to find him before he got out of the park. Isn't that right, Brody?"

"Yeah," the giant said. "That's right."

Ira huffed, then held his hands out wide. "Well, that pickpocket is obviously not back here. So why don't you get down from there before you break that ladder? It's too rickety to hold a big fella like you, and I don't need anything else to fix around here."

Brody gave the other man a mulish look, but he hopped down off the ladder, making the entire stagecoach rock from side to side at the sudden loss of his weight. "Whatever," he muttered.

Ira stared him down a moment before turning to Roxy. "Now, why don't you two go search somewhere else and let me do my job? I need to take a look at the stagecoach wheels and make sure that everything is ready for the next show. Whenever the two of you get your act together and finally decide to hold it."

Roxy glanced at Brody, who shook his head, telling her that I wasn't hiding on top of the stagecoach. For once, I'd gotten lucky, and Ira had distracted the giant before he could actually look on the roof. A small favor, but I'd take what I could get right now.

"Well?" Ira snapped. "Are you going to get out of my way and let me do my job? Or are you just going to stand there all day?"

Anger sparked in Roxy's eyes, but she wanted to find me more than she wanted to deal with him right now. "Sure thing, Ira," she said. "C'mon, Brody. Let's see if the others have had better luck finding that pickpocket."

She smiled at the dwarf a final time, then she and Brody left the stagecoach behind, walked through the pavilions, stepped into the back of the saloon, and shut the door behind them.

"Good riddance," Ira muttered.

I breathed a soft sigh of relief. Roxy and Brody were gone, and all I had to do was wait for Ira to look over the stagecoach and leave. Then I could climb down from the roof and find someplace better to hide until my body flushed the sedative out of my system.

I really should have known better than to even think that I was in the clear.

Ira looked over his shoulder, making sure that Roxy and Brody were gone, then scrambled up to the top of the stagecoach ladder, tipped his black bowler hat back on his head, and stared down at me.

"How did you get down in there?" he said. "Determined little thing, aren't you?"

All I could do was stare up at him, my body feeling cold, heavy, and numb, and my mind growing foggier and foggier as the sedative swept through me.

He shook his head. "Now I'm going to have to slice through all the ropes and move all the trunks just to get you out of there. . . ."

The dwarf kept muttering to himself about how much trouble I was causing him, but I could do nothing to stop him, so I tuned him out.

My fingers felt as cold, heavy, and numb as the rest of my body, and I fumbled in my jacket pocket, trying to pull out my cell phone. It took me three tries, but I finally managed it.

I squinted at the screen, trying to see my contacts. For once, I was glad that Silvio had programmed my phone with a special spider rune beside his name. Like the Bat Signal, but in reverse, for when you wanted to summon Alfred instead of Bruce Wayne.

Ira was standing on top of the stagecoach, and he reached into his jeans pocket, drew out a switchblade, and flicked it open.

I hit the screen, determined to make my call before the dwarf cut through the ropes and then used that knife to cut into me. A second later, the call went through. True to form, the person on the other end answered almost immediately.

"What's up, Gin?" Silvio's voice filled my ear. "Do you need something?"

"I-" That one single word came out as a garbled croak.

"Gin?" Silvio's voice immediately sharpened. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I-" I tried again, but the sound was as garbled as before.

The balloon of my mind seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from the rest of me, higher and higher and faster and faster all the while. I needed to tell Silvio what had happened. About Finn, Bria, and Owen being captured. About me being drugged. About the man looming over me with a knife.

But only one thought filled my mind, along with those strange, crazy giggles.

"Don't eat the barbecue," I whispered, giggles punctuating each and every word. "Don't eat the barbecue. . . ."

"Gin? Are you drunk? Are you hurt? Where are you? What's happening?" Silvio's voice sharpened with every single word, and I could hear his fingers flying over a keyboard.

I wondered if the vamp was already trying to track my phone. Probably. He was extremely efficient that way. The thought made me giggle again.

Ira leaned down and pried the phone out of my fingers. "I don't think you need to be making any calls right now."

"Gin? Gin! Who is that talking? Are you still there? Gin!" Silvio's voice continued to sound through the phone.

Ira rolled his eyes at Silvio's frantic cries, ended the call, and stuffed my phone into his jeans pocket as though it were his own. I really was out of my mind because, instead of being concerned, I focused my gaze on the white lights flashing on the dwarf's snowflake Christmas sweater. Such pretty, pretty lights . . .

Ira frowned and leaned down again, the switchblade glinting like liquid silver in his hand.

Mercifully, the drug finally pulled me under before I saw or felt him stab me with the blade.

17.

My mom's annual holiday party was in full swing.

I peered through the railing that lined the second-floor balcony, staring down at all the elegantly dressed people filling our large living room below. Men in cla.s.sic black tuxedos, diamond cuff links winking on their shirtsleeves. Women in colorful ball gowns, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds hanging from their ears, necks, and wrists. Even up here, above the soft, trilling carols of the harpists, I could hear the whispers of all those precious stones, each and every one vainly singing about its own sparkling beauty.

Waiters clad in red and green tuxedo vests moved through the crowd, handing out dainty appetizers and tall gla.s.ses of golden, bubbly champagne, and everyone was talking, eating, laughing, drinking, and having a good time. Mistletoe, tinsel, and soft white lights were strung up along the mantel, with potted poinsettias flanking the fireplace with its cheery, crackling flames. Still more greenery, lights, and poinsettias were cl.u.s.tered in the corners of the room, and the air smelled like pine sap mixed with a hint of woodsmoke. The pretty scene reminded me of one of my mom's snow globes. All it needed was some fake flakes and glitter swirling up into the air to make it complete.

Even though it was almost midnight, the party was still going strong, and my mom was right in the thick of things, moving from one group of guests to the next, smiling, laughing, and shaking everyone's hand. After that tense meeting in her office, Mom had come up to the family room to help Bria and me decorate our Christmas tree, although she'd brushed off all my questions about Hugh and Deirdre and what they wanted her to do. Instead, Mom had pretended like everything was fine, just like she was doing right now, by mingling with all her guests.

I was supposed to be in bed, but I couldn't sleep, so I'd slipped out here to watch the action. But that had been twenty minutes ago, and I was getting bored. So I moved away from the balcony and went over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the family room, the one that my sisters and I had decorated earlier today. Well, mostly decorated. Several snow globes and other ornaments were still strewn across the floor, waiting to be hung. But the tree was plenty decorated enough for me.

I lay down underneath the Christmas tree and scooted over to the far corner, lying on my back and peering up through the branches at all the ornaments, lights, and tinsel above. This was one of my favorite things to do every single year. Normally, I would do it on Christmas morning when we were all gathered around the tree and had finished opening our presents, but Annabella had made fun of me last year, saying that only a little kid would crawl behind the tree. So I'd just go ahead and do it now, when she wasn't around to tease me.

I didn't know how long I lay there, staring up at the lights and the soft glimmers of gla.s.s, but I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, the mansion was silent. The talking, the laughing, the carols. All the noise from the party had vanished. Everyone must have gone home while I was sleeping.

I rubbed the sand out of my eyes and sat up. At least, I started to, but then I remembered where I was and ducked back down at the last second. I just managed to avoid upending the Christmas tree and knocking the whole thing down. That would have been a disaster, especially with all my mom's snow globes on it. No doubt I would have broken every single one.

As I started to crawl out from behind the tree, the creak of the stairs made me stop. That was probably Mom, coming to turn off the holiday lights. So I stayed where I was, hoping that she would just walk down the hallway and not actually open our doors and look inside to make sure that we were in bed.

I hunkered down and peered through the branches, expecting to see her black stilettos. But instead, a pair of black boots appeared at the top of the stairs. I frowned. Why would Mom be wearing boots?

She wouldn't, I realized. For a second, I thought that it must be Annabella, coming home late after sneaking out to meet her friends, but then I noticed that the boots were far too large to belong to her. I froze, then slowly looked up through the branches, my mind finally putting the pieces together.

Someone was in our house.

The boots stepped forward, and a tall man emerged out of the shadows. He was dressed all in black, with black gloves and a black ski mask covering his head and face.

An intruder was in our house.

That horrible thought kept rattling around inside my brain, with questions popping up beside it, like holiday lights blazing to life one after another. What was this man doing here? Was this a . . . robbery?

Several houses in the neighborhood had been robbed in recent weeks, folks coming home from parties and other late nights out to find that someone had broken in while they were gone and had stolen all the presents from beneath their trees, just like the Grinch in that old holiday cartoon.

I held my breath, wondering what the man could possibly steal, since we hadn't put any of our presents out yet. Or maybe he was here for my mom's jewelry, some of the antique knickknacks in the house, or even the stacks of money piled in her office safe. He stepped forward and dropped his hand down to his side.

That's when I saw the gun.

My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat. Not here to steal-here to kill.

All around me, the stones of our mansion whispered, but the vain, happy trills of the partygoers' gemstones had been replaced by dark, harsh mutters. Whoever the gunman was, he was dangerous, and his evil intentions were brutal enough to have already left emotional vibrations in the stone.

The man walked over to the tree and stopped, as though he was admiring the decorations. I clapped my hands over my mouth to hold back the scream rising in my throat and shrank back against the wall, desperately wishing that I could melt into it and escape out the other side.

But all I could do was stay as still and quiet as a mouse, hoping that he wouldn't look down at the floor and spot me through the thick branches, silver tinsel, and twinkling lights. The scent of pine sap, which had been so pleasant before, now seemed like poison sliding down my throat, choking me from the inside out.

Finally, the man stepped away from the tree and left the family area behind. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, as if he was unsure where to go. Then he started forward again, and I realized that he was walking toward Annabella's and Bria's bedrooms.