Venom. Part 7

9.

"Are you sure he's in there?" I asked.

Finn grinned. "Baby, would I lie?"

I stared at him.

"Okay, frequently," he admitted. "But you can trust me on this. Elliot Slater's in that restaurant, along with Jonah McAllister and Mab Monroe. According to my sources, they're having their weekly powwow. Talking business, counting their money, discussing the latest body count."

"The usual, then," I murmured.

I stared through the window of Finn's silver Aston Martin. It was just after eleven, and we sat parked across and down the street from Underwood's, Ashland's most exclusive and expensive restaurant. Underwood's was the kind of place where a gla.s.s of tap water cost ten bucks. More, if you wanted ice. The restaurant was located in one of the city's older brick buildings, a cla.s.sy, three-story affair in the financial district. Much of the stone had been stripped from the top floor and replaced with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the restaurant's patrons an impressive view of the Aneirin River that curved through this part of downtown. A crimson awning bearing the eatery's name stretched out into the street, and valets hurried forward to open the doors on the steady stream of limos that pulled up to the curb.

Finn reached over and tapped the manila folder on my lap. "According to my info, the Three Musketeers should be ordering dessert about now. Tiramisu for Mab Monroe, pear cheesecake for Jonah McAllister, and a whole chocolate fudge pie for Elliot Slater."

I opened the folder and flipped through the sheets of paper. As soon as Roslyn and Xavier had left the Pork Pit, Finn and I had gone to work. I'd left the restaurant in Sophia Deveraux's capable hands for the rest of the afternoon, while Finn had fired up his laptop, reached out to his many sources, and started compiling all the information he could on Elliot Slater and the best and quickest way I could kill him.

Just like Fletcher Lane would have done, if the old man had still been alive. Finn even used the same type of plain-Jane folders that Fletcher had. Made me all nostalgic.

Nothing obvious had jumped out of the file, so we'd decided to tail the giant to see if we could spot any potential weaknesses. A bar he liked to frequent, a bookie he did business with, a mistress tucked away somewhere. It was one thing to just walk up to Slater and stab him to death. I could do that easily enough. It would be quite another to make his death look like a random bit of violence on the mean streets of Ashland and not have it traced back to me or Roslyn Phillips.

After Finn had worked his computer magic, we'd swung by Fletcher's house to pick up some supplies for the evening. More silverstone knives for me, an extra laptop battery for Finn, and ski masks and dark, anonymous clothes for both of us. Normally I didn't care if my targets saw my face before they died. It wasn't like they were going to blab about my real ident.i.ty where they were going. But I wasn't taking any chances with Elliot Slater. Especially since he already knew me as Gin Blanco. It would be just my bad luck to get interrupted before he died and then have him point the finger back at me before he took his last, blood-soaked breath.

I closed the file, placed it on the floor, and leaned my head back against the seat.

"Speaking of files," Finn said. "Did you ever look at that info on Bria that I compiled for you?"

"No."

Finn stared at me with his bright green eyes. "Why not? I thought you'd be eager to see what your long-lost baby sister has been up to the past seventeen years."

I sighed. "Part of me is. But part of me wonders if I should even bother."

"Why?"

"Because Bria's a cop, Finn," I replied. "A real straight arrow, just like Donovan Caine was. I don't think she'd be too thrilled to learn that her big sister has killed more people than the common cold."

Finn looked at me for a moment. "Once again, you underestimate yourself. If Bria can't understand why you've done the things you've done, then she doesn't deserve to know you. Just like Donovan Caine didn't deserve you."

I tried to smile, but I don't think it came off very well. "Sweet of you to say, but we both know that's not true, don't we? I can't blame Donovan for leaving, not really. It's one thing for a guy to want to sleep with me. But hanging around long-term with a former a.s.sa.s.sin? That's not the kind of thing that makes a man rest easier at night, especially when he's in bed next to me and I've got a knife tucked under my pillow and another one on top of the nightstand."

Finn opened his mouth, probably to argue with me some more, but a movement across the street caught my eye. One of the valets hurried to open the door, and Mab Monroe strolled out into the dark night. The Fire elemental wore a stylish black trench coat, and her coppery hair glistened like wet blood against the dark fabric. Jonah McAllister exited next, followed by Elliot Slater. Both men wore suits, somber ties, and wingtips. I could see the gleam of their shoes even across the street.

Elliot Slater jerked his thumb at the two valets on duty. The kids paled, then hurried around the corner to retrieve someone's car. Slater rejoined Mab and Jonah McAllister, and the Three Musketeers, as Finn had dubbed them, stood on the sidewalk talking. Finn rolled down his window to see if we could hear any of their conversation.

"... don't care about the consequences. Just get it done," Mab snapped to the other two.

"Perhaps you're being a bit hasty..." McAllister began in a fainter voice. He turned around to watch Mab pace back and forth on the sidewalk, and the rest of his words were lost to me.

Mab whirled around on her heel and glared at the silver-haired attorney. "I'm never hasty, Jonah. Elliot and his men need to take care of it. Tonight. Am I understood?"

McAllister nodded his head. So did Slater.

A limo pulled to a stop at the curb in front of them. Mab said something else to her two flunkies, but the rumble of the engine drowned out her voice. The Fire elemental slid into the back of the limo, and a moment later it sped away into the night. One of the valets brought another car around, a late-model Mercedes. Jonah McAllister slipped into the driver's seat, whipped a U-turn, and raced away in the opposite direction.

That left just Elliot Slater standing on the sidewalk. The giant pulled a slim cigar case out of his jacket pocket and lit up a Cuban with the help of a heavy silver lighter. Slater leaned against the brick of the restaurant and puffed away. The giant enjoyed two more cigars in rapid succession, but he made no move to leave.

"What is he waiting for?" I murmured. "Christmas?"

"I don't know," Finn replied.

We sat there and watched Slater smoke. About five minutes later, a black Hummer stopped in front of the restaurant. Slater crushed out his cigar and climbed into the back of the vehicle. Finn and I slid lower in our seats as the Hummer roared down the street past us.

Finn let the driver get a block away before sitting up and cranking the Aston's engine. He turned to me and grinned. "Care to follow the white rabbit down his hole?"

"Sure," I replied. "Let's see what kind of late-night errand the giant is doing for Mab Monroe-and how we can f.u.c.k it up."

Finn hung back at a discreet distance, and we followed the Hummer through the downtown district. The vehicle took one of the on ramps to the interstate, so Finn was able to blend in with the rest of the evening's traffic.

"Looks like they're headed for Northtown," Finn murmured.

Ashland might sprawl over the mountainous region where Tennessee, Virginia, and North Carolina met, but the city was really divided into two sections-Northtown and Southtown. The Pork Pit and Ashland Community College lay close to Southtown, which was home to the disenfranchised, down-on-their-luck, and dregs of society. Junkies, vampire hookers, and homeless b.u.ms wandered the Southtown streets, along with menial, blue collar workers barely eking out a living.

Northtown was a different story with its cutesy subdivisions, cookie-cutter homes, and sprawling estates. That was the part of the city that the white-collar yuppies and moneyed, social, and magical elite called home. But that didn't make that part of Ashland any less dangerous. I'd rather face down a dozen junkies than have to put up with a self-important yuppie sn.o.b who thought he was better than me just because he had little logos on his polo shirts and chinos.

"It's not terribly surprising that Slater's headed to Northtown," I told Finn. "Northtown folks are the only ones rich and dumb enough to make trouble for Mab Monroe."

"Yeah, Mab just ignores Southtown trash like us." Finn snorted.

I smiled. "Going to be the death of her. One day real soon."

Finn stared at me out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, he shook his head and returned my sly smile.

The Hummer carrying Slater and his cohorts got off the interstate. Finn slowed down and followed the black vehicle. The Hummer rumbled past a couple of cobblestone shopping malls filled with pretentious bookstores, overpriced coffee bars, and designer clothing shops. There was just enough late-night traffic to keep us from being spotted. Not that I really cared if Slater realized we were following him. If the giant stopped and confronted us, well, I'd solve Roslyn Phillips's problem on the pavement, witnesses be d.a.m.ned.

But the giant was far too busy plotting his foul deed for the evening to notice us tailing him, because the Hummer never slowed down or did any sort of evasive maneuvers. After about twenty minutes of driving, the ma.s.sive vehicle turned into a subdivision. A spotlight on the brick entrance highlighted the name-Paradise Park. Finn waited until the Hummer had made the turn into the subdivision before killing the lights on his Aston Martin and following.

I peered at the houses we pa.s.sed. Mostly two-story affairs with wide porches. Roomy enough for a family, but not enormous. Swing sets, plastic castles, and other toys littered most of the sloping lawns.

"Not as nice as I'd expect for someone causing trouble for Mab Monroe," I said. "These are middle-cla.s.s homes, not McMansions."

Finn shrugged. "Doesn't matter either way, does it? We're here to watch Slater, not Mab's target."

I returned his shrug. "Not really."

A block ahead, the Hummer's taillights flared red in the darkness. The vehicle made a final turn, coasted halfway down the street, then stopped. I peered out my window. Unlike the other jam-packed avenues in the subdivision, this one only featured two houses sitting on opposite sides of the corner. The Hummer sat several hundred yards away from each one. What was going on? Did Elliot Slater need his exercise or something? Was the giant going for a jog out in the suburbs?

"I wonder why they're stopping here," Finn murmured, voicing my silent question.

"No idea. Let's find out."

I picked up a pair of night-vision goggles from the dashboard and peered through them. The Hummer doors opened, and Slater slipped out, along with four other giants. Elliot Slater ran his hands down his suit jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then he jerked his head at his men. But instead of walking back down the street in our direction, Elliot Slater and his men tromped through the gra.s.s to the right of the Hummer. I scanned over and spotted a modest house hidden behind a thin row of freshly planted trees. It looked like it had just been built, given the amount of loose dirt, cement blocks, and two-by-fours that still ringed the structure. The house was the only one on its block, and more than a half mile from the next-closest building.

"Looks like they're slipping up on a house on the next street, Jasper Way, according to the sign at the end of the corner. Going in the back instead of the front," I said.

"Jasper Way?" Finn asked. "What's the name of this subdivision again?"

"Paradise Park," I replied. "Why? Does one of your many conquests live around here?"

"Probably, but the name sounds familiar for some other reason." Finn frowned and tapped his fingers on his thigh, trying to remember something important.

I peered through the goggles again. A light burned in one of the downstairs windows of the home, but the curtains were drawn, so I couldn't see inside. A gleam of white caught my eye, and I looked to the right.

"The name on the mailbox says Coolidge." I frowned. The name tickled my memory for some reason.

"Coolidge?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, Coolidge." I snapped my fingers. "I remember now. After Elliot Slater finished beating me that night at the community college, I heard Mab talking about someone named Coolidge. About how Mab wanted him taken care of-the sooner the better. Must be why Slater and his men are paying him a late-night visit. I wonder what the poor guy did to p.i.s.s off Mab."

Finn sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "Not him, her," he replied. "Coolidge is a her, Gin."

"How do you know that?"

Finn stared at me, his green eyes flashing like emeralds in the semidarkness. "Because it's in that file of information I gave you."

A hard knot formed in my stomach. "Which file?"

"The one on Bria," Finn replied. "Bria Coolidge. That's the name she's using now."

Oh, f.u.c.k.

10.

I dropped the night-vision goggles, grabbed my ski mask from the dashboard, and yanked the black fabric down over my head, hiding my pale face and brown hair from sight.

"Gin-"

Finn said something, probably telling me to wait for him or slow down, but I couldn't make out what it was. I was already out of the car and sprinting toward the house.

Elliot Slater and his giants had a good head start on me-almost a quarter of a mile. I saw the five of them slip through the trees that circled the back side of the house. Another few seconds and they'd be at the back door and surging inside. An icy fist squeezed my heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. I'd just found my sister again, and now Slater and his men were here to kill her. Why else would they be sneaking around Bria's house this close to midnight?

Run, run, run, run... The thought drummed through my head as my boots slapped against the pavement. I chugged past the parked Hummer, leaped over the concrete curb, and ran through the frost-covered gra.s.s. The tiny blades crackled like gla.s.s under my smashing feet. If Slater and his giants bothered to stop and listen, they'd hear me coming for sure. But I didn't care. All that mattered was getting to Bria before she got dead.

I broke through the line of spindly pecan trees, and Bria's house rose up in front of me, two stories of charming gray brick. I blocked out the blood roaring through my ears and reached out with my Stone magic. But the house was freshly constructed, and the stones were too new to tell me anything about Bria-or what might be happening inside.

I was a hundred feet away from the back door when lights flashed and a series of pop-pop-pops sounded. The distinctive sights and sounds of someone firing a handgun. A window shattered, and a series of loud curses spilled out into the night air. Bria was putting up more of a fight than the giants had expected.

A few seconds later, an intense, bluish white glow filled the downstairs windows and burst through the open back door. Even though I was outside, I could still feel the cold caress of Ice magic surging through the house. A sensation so like my own Stone and Ice power that it made me want to weep. Not surprising, even if it was something that I hadn't thought about in years. Because Bria was an Ice elemental, of course. Just like our mother, Eira, and older sister, Annabella, had been. I was the only one who'd inherited our father, Tristan's, Stone magic as well. I just hoped Bria had enough juice to hold off Elliot Slater and his men until I could even the odds.

The Ice magic flowed around me a second longer before snuffing out like a candle. Either Bria didn't have much power or something had broken her concentration-like a fist to her face or a bullet to her gut.

The bra.s.s hinges of the back door barely clung to the stone frame. One of the giants must have just shouldered his way through it, rather than bother with the pretense of knocking. Although my heart screamed at me to keep running, to get to Bria as quickly as possible, I slowed my steps and paused just outside the door. Me barging into whatever fight was going on inside wouldn't help Bria. That's not how I'd operated as the a.s.sa.s.sin the Spider, and I wasn't going to do it now. Besides, there was always the off chance that Bria could mistake me for one of the giants and turn on me. Being killed by one's own sister would be a s.h.i.tty way to die.

So I stood there and listened. Another series of pop-pop-pops sounded, followed by three more shots. Two people exchanging gunfire.

"f.u.c.k!" A sharp, masculine cry. One of the giants had been hit.

Then silence.

I crept a few feet inside the door, taking care to be exceptionally quiet. The back door opened up into a kitchen, and the white tile floor and countertops gleamed like they were made of ivory. The fight had started in here, judging from the black splashes of blood on the floor. Sharp, melting pieces of elemental Ice also littered the tile underfoot like a wet carpet.

But what was most surprising was the refrigerator. The top door had been blown off, and a rune shimmered with a bluish white light inside the frosty depths of the freezer. The symbol zigzagged up and down like the teeth of a saw. That's what it was called-the saw. Symbolizing pure, biting force. In addition to using runes to identify themselves, elementals could also imbue runes with magic. In other words, make the symbols come to life and perform some specific function.

The saw was a defensive rune that could be used by any elemental and was especially popular as a sort of magic trip wire and bomb rolled into one. Since Bria was an Ice elemental, she'd drawn the saw symbol in her freezer, using the rune and appliance to contain her frosty magic. When the giants had broken into her house tonight, she'd most likely sent a burst of her Ice power into the freezer, triggering the explosive saw rune inside. And then-boom! The freezer door had blown open, spraying the giants with sharp, jagged icicles. Hence the blood on the floor.

I recognized the trick. I'd done it myself with stone a time or two. Baby sister had b.o.o.by-trapped her own freezer. Despite the situation, I found myself grinning underneath my ski mask. Nice.

I saw all this in the three seconds it took me to creep to the opposite side of the kitchen. I crouched down and peered around the doorjamb. A long hallway stretched out before opening up into the front of the house. Rooms branched off either side of the hallway, which was now littered with debris. A couple of porcelain vases had been shattered, chairs overturned, a table splintered, a mirror knocked off the wall and broken. More blood glistened on the wooden floor, and a couple of bullets had punched into and blackened the walls. I started forward- "Give it up, Coolidge!" Elliot Slater's voice rumbled through the house like thunder. "We've got you surrounded, and it's only a matter of time before you run out of ammo. We'll kill you quick, I promise."

"f.u.c.k you, Slater," Bria snarled.

Not the most original of retorts, but it was hard to be witty under pressure. Still, I frowned. Despite her bravado, Bria's voice had sounded high and thin, like she was in pain or injured. But she was still breathing. As long as she kept doing that, Jo-Jo Deveraux could fix the rest of the damage. From the sound of things, Elliot and his men had Bria trapped somewhere in the front of the house. Which meant they wouldn't be expecting a sneak attack from the rear. Excellent.

I tiptoed down the hallway, a silverstone knife in each hand. Although I still wanted to charge forward, I moved slowly, calmly, carefully. Just because I thought Slater and his men were at the end of the hall didn't mean that he hadn't left someone behind to guard their rear. Slater had worked for Mab Monroe for a long time. He wasn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination. So I checked every room that branched off the hallway, looking for trouble.

Two doors up from the kitchen, I found some. A giant slouched over a sink in a small bathroom. Judging from the long, needlelike bits of elemental Ice sticking out of his face, it looked like he'd been the one who'd taken the brunt of the blast from the b.o.o.by-trapped freezer. The giant held a white towel up over his eye socket. At least, the towel had been white at one point. Blood had turned the cotton fabric a dull crimson. The giant had also been shot a couple times in the chest, and a tight cl.u.s.ter of wounds just above his heart oozed blood. Baby sister was a good shot. She just hadn't had time to finish him off before the other giants had rushed her.

Good thing her big sis Gin was here to take care of that.

I drew in a breath, then burst into the bathroom. My sudden appearance startled the giant so much that he dropped his towel, giving me a good look at the icicle that had skewered his right eye like a toothpick through an olive. The wounded giant opened his mouth to yell for his friends just as my silverstone knife slammed into his throat. The scream turned into a coughing, choking wheeze. My other knife ripped into the giant's stomach. His warm blood splashed all over my ski mask and dark clothes.

But the giant wasn't down for the count just yet. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d lashed out at me, flailing wildly with his fists. One clipped my shoulder. The other hit my left kidney. Even weakened, the solid blows still hurt. Being an elemental, I could have reached for my Stone magic and used it to harden my skin into an impenetrable sh.e.l.l. Almost nothing could hurt me when I did that. But I didn't know if Elliot Slater or one of his other men had any elemental power, and I didn't want to tip them off to my presence just yet. Besides, I reserved my magic for the main event. This barely qualified as the warm-up bout.

So I just stood there, slashing the giant with my knives. By the time I'd made my third pa.s.s with the silverstone weapons, the giant's pink guts could be seen through the ripped fabric of his shirt. Not to mention the fact that his throat was open almost to his spine. He quit fighting, and his one good eye glazed over. I lowered his heavy body to the floor and tiptoed back to the door.