Venom. Part 10

"Anyway, your sister has some interesting quirks," Finn replied.

I still couldn't even bring myself to read the file of information that Finn had compiled on Bria. I certainly didn't want to paw through her personal, private things like the cheapest kind of thief, especially when she was downstairs, unconscious on her own sofa, recovering from a gunshot wound.

Finnegan Lane had no such qualms. He loved finding out information about other people, ferreting out all their secret hobbies, habits, and vices-and using them to his own advantage if the situation called for it. To him, it was a grand game, one in which he always came out the winner. Groundhogs couldn't dig as well as Finn could.

So I knew there was nothing I could do but sigh and go along with him. "What kind of quirks?"

He stopped in front of a box with open flaps, reached inside, and pulled out a frilly white negligee. "For starters, she likes girly underwear. Lace, ribbons, soft, feminine colors. The whole shebang. Expensive brands too." Finn rubbed the silk between his fingers. "Makes me look forward to the future."

"For what? When you try to seduce her?" I pulled the negligee out of his hand and put it back in the appropriate box.

"Of course," he replied in a smug tone. "And it won't be a matter of merely trying. No one can resist the charms of Finnegan Lane for long."

Finn definitely wasn't lacking in the self-confidence department. But as annoying as he was, he was also pretty good at figuring out what made people tick. Just like his father, Fletcher, had been.

"What else?" I asked.

Finn reached into another box and pulled out a small, round sphere. "For whatever reason, she collects snow globes. I've found three boxes of them so far."

My breath caught in my throat, and I took the globe from his outstretched hand. A charming winter scene lay underneath the smooth, domed gla.s.s-a couple of tiny brown horses pulling two laughing young girls in a silver sleigh. Evergreen trees lined the back of the snowy sphere, surrounding a miniature house. But another image flashed in my mind-more globes just like this one, their gla.s.s s.h.i.+ning like stars underneath a fading sunset.

"My mother used to collect snow globes too." I shook the gla.s.s and watched the fake flakes of snow drift down and settle on top of the horses and two girls. "She had dozens of them all lined up on top of the fireplace mantel. Bria and I used to go down and shake them, trying to have the snow flying in all of them before the first one settled back down. A silly game we played. I'd almost forgotten about it."

My voice dropped to a whisper, and my fingers tightened around the globe, threatening to punch through the thick gla.s.s.

"Are you okay, Gin?" Finn asked.

I shook my head, loosened my grip, and pa.s.sed the globe back to him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He just looked at me. I dropped my sad, gray gaze from his searching green one and gestured at the boxes.

"And what does all that tell you about her?"

A thoughtful light flared in Finn's eyes. "That Bria Coolidge's icy sh.e.l.l is merely a mask to hide the soft, warm, sentimental woman that she really is deep down." He paused. "Kind of like you. Black and crunchy on the outside, marshmallow-soft on the inside."

I gave him a hard stare. "I am not a f.u.c.king marshmallow. And I am especially not sentimental."

"Of course not. That's why you just hacked and slashed your way through several giants to save a long-lost sister you haven't seen since you were thirteen." Amus.e.m.e.nt colored his placating tone.

My eyes narrowed to slits, but Finn just grinned at me. My angry face had long ago lost its effect on him. Finn knew that I'd rather hurt myself before I did him.

"But come here, I've saved the best for last," he said, gesturing for me to follow him once more. "What's most interesting about Bria is this."

Finn opened a door at the end of the hallway, and we stepped into Bria's home office. Wooden desk, computer, stapler, sticky pads, lots of books and papers stacked everywhere. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary-until Finn snapped on the light. And there it was, pushed against the back wall.

An eight-by-ten picture of one of the spider rune scars on my palms.

The photo was stuck in the middle of the biggest dry-erase board I'd ever seen. And it wasn't alone. There were more pictures, ones that I recognized from the file of information that Fletcher Lane had left me-autopsy photos of my mother and my older sister. The burned husks of their bodies. Mounted right next to the photo of my scar.

My stomach clenched, and that icy fist started squeezing my heart again.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" I whispered.

Still shocked, I moved closer to the dry-erase board. In addition to the photos, notes had been scribbled all over the surface in a variety of colors. Murdered, burned, bodies reduced to ash in red. Physical evidence in black. Possible suspects in navy blue. Motive? in a bright green.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" I repeated.

My eyes went up and down and all around the dry-erase board. Everywhere I looked there was another piece of information about the night my family had been killed, about the night that Mab Monroe had burned our house to the ground.

"I believe some folks call it a murder board. It's a visual representation of all the evidence found in relation to a crime. Some cops use them to help connect the dots or keep track of leads." Finn leaned against the doorjamb. "From the looks of it, I'd say Bria is investigating the murder of your family. Just like you started to, after Dad left you that file."

"All right. I can understand her doing that, wanting to know the truth, who was behind the murders and why. But where did she get all this information?" I asked. "Especially that photo of the spider rune scar on my palm?"

I peered at the photo, wondering how I'd been so sloppy as to let someone take a picture of my hands. Oh, every once in a while, someone eating at the Pork Pit caught a glimpse of my scarred palms. But I was always able to pa.s.s the marks off as burns I'd gotten working in the restaurant. It wasn't like I ever stopped, held them up for everyone to see, and posed for pictures- And then I remembered. Fletcher Lane had bought a digital camera a few months before he died. He'd brought it to the Pork Pit one day to show it off to me. A fancy newfangled device, he'd called it in his gruff voice. The old man had started taking my photo, and I'd finally put my hand out in mock surrender to get him to stop. He'd snapped a final picture and smiled before putting the camera away.

"Fletcher," I murmured. "He's the one who took the photo."

I told Finn about the camera incident and how I hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

Finn's green eyes drifted over the murder board. "That's not all Dad did, is it? He sent Bria the same folder of information that he left you, Gin. He sent her the exact same file about Mab Monroe murdering your mother and older sister."

"With a twist. Fletcher sent Bria a photo of my scar instead of the lovely headshot of her that he provided for me. Very thoughtful of him not to send her a glossy of my face." I shook my head. "I can understand Fletcher leaving me the information. I've made my peace with that. But why would he send it to Bria too? What did he hope to accomplish?"

"I don't know," Finn murmured. "Maybe he wanted to see how she'd react to the knowledge that you were still alive. Maybe he wanted to bring Bria to Ashland on her own terms."

I dropped my eyes from the board. "Doesn't much matter now, does it? Fletcher's gone, Bria's in town, and Mab wants her dead. Whatever the old man started with Bria, she's come to Ashland to finish it. If Mab doesn't get to her first."

"Speaking of finis.h.i.+ng things, there's one more thing you should see," Finn said.

He moved to the right side of the board, put his hand on the top edge, and slowly turned it over. The board was constructed in such a way that it could be flipped over without moving the entire structure around. The back of the board was filled with just as many photos and scribblings as the front side. Only there was one distinct difference.

The back of the board dealt entirely with Mab Monroe and her organization. It was organized like a cla.s.sic Mob pyramid. Mab's picture sat alone on top of the board. Underneath her photo were shots of Elliot Slater and Jonah McAllister. Below them were even more pictures of the various goons that made up Mab's organization. Bria had written notes beside each photo, with words like Indicted, Arrested, or Dead. There were more Dead notations than anything else. Not surprising, given Mab's dislike for failure.

"I think we know why Mab sent Slater to kill your sister," Finn said. "One of the reasons anyway. Looks like Bria's set her sights on the Fire elemental."

"Why?" I asked. "Because she wants to clean up Ashland? Or because she knows Mab murdered our mother and sister?"

Finn shrugged. "Does it really matter at this point?"

I rubbed the spider rune scar on first one palm, then the other one. d.a.m.n things were itching and burning again the way they always did when I thought about things that upset me, like my murdered family and crusading sister. "No, it doesn't matter why Bria's here or what she knows. All that matters now is keeping her safe-and away from Mab Monroe and her minions."

Finn snorted. "Are you kidding? Based on all this, I'd say that Bria's eager to get down and dirty with Mab. Maybe even more so than you are, Gin. Remember that scene in Northern Aggression last night? Bria looked like she'd be happy to put some bullets in Elliot Slater's head."

I stepped forward and turned the board back over to its original position. "Well, then, I guess I'm just going to have to get to Mab before Bria goes and does something stupid-like get herself killed."

Finn sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

I gave him a hard smile. "Come on, Finn. We both know going after Mab will be fun."

"Oh, sure," Finn replied in a dry tone. "It'll be a barrel of laughs, right up until she kills us."

Finn wasn't entirely joking. He knew as well as I did that going after Mab would be tricky at best and most likely lethal. Even Fletcher Lane had never dared to take on the Fire elemental. For years the old man had compiled information on Mab, looking for any weaknesses, any sliver of opportunity he could take advantage of to kill her. But Mab always had too many people, too many guards around her. Even if I'd been able to get her alone, she could always kill me herself with her elemental power. Mab's own strength was the real reason she'd survived all these years.

Still, I couldn't help but stare at the photos on the board-the ones that showed the blackened husks that had been my mother and older sister before Mab had used her elemental Fire magic to burn them to ashes. And somehow, I knew that I was going to try to do the impossible-no matter what.

"Not if I kill her first," I murmured. "Not if I kill the b.i.t.c.h first."

Finn and I went back downstairs. Jo-Jo and Sophia had finished the last of the cleanup and stood by the front door ready to go. Bria was still asleep on the sofa. Once again, I was struck by how angelic she looked lying there, how calm and peaceful. You'd never guess that she spent her free time digging up dirt on the most dangerous woman in town.

"How long will she be out of it?" I asked Jo-Jo.

The dwarf stared at my sister. "That shot to the kidney took a lot out of her, but she should wake up within the hour. Two, at most."

I eyed a clock on the wall. Just after two in the morning. Finn said Elliot Slater was busy getting patched up himself, which meant the giant wouldn't be back for Bria. Not tonight, anyway.

"All right, we need to be gone before she wakes up," I said. "So grab whatever supplies you brought in and leave. Finn, you help them, please. I'll be out in a minute."

Finn opened the front door, and Jo-Jo and Sophia gathered up their gear and went outside. Finn followed and shut the door behind the three of them.

I moved over to the sofa and stared down at Bria. Sleep eased out the sharp planes of her face, and a dewy pink color freshened up her cheeks, thanks to Jo-Jo's healing elemental Air magic. At this moment, Bria didn't look anything like the icy professional I'd seen that night at the community college or the calm cop holding a gun on Elliot Slater at Northern Aggression. She seemed younger, softer, like this. More like a grown-up version of the sweet little girl that I'd once known.

And she was going to stay this way, I vowed. I was going to lullaby Elliot Slater very, very soon. Once the giant was removed, I'd go after Mab Monroe. The time for keeping to the shadows like a tiny spider had pa.s.sed. It was time to show Mab and her minions that I had some bite-and that they were next on my f.u.c.king to-do list.

I looked at Bria a moment longer, then turned away.

"Sweet dreams, baby sister," I murmured before walking out the front door.

13.

The next day it was business as usual at the Pork Pit. Crowds of customers. Harried waitresses. The hiss, spit, and sizzle of the grill. The spicy smells of baked beans and barbecue sauce flavoring the air. Sophia Deveraux cooking up a storm.

And me plotting someone's demise.

"I just don't see how you're going to do it," Finn said, wiping a bit of barbecue sauce off his mouth. "Elliot Slater's sure to be on his guard now. Not only against you, but Bria too. You could try to snipe him from a distance, but as big and strong and tough as he is, you'd probably have to put several bullets or arrows in him in just the right places. Which you probably wouldn't have time to do before he started ducking for cover."

I nodded my head, agreeing with him. I'd killed people with rifles and crossbows before, but I preferred using my silverstone knives. It was just easier to make sure someone got good and dead that way.

"As for something more personal, which we both know you prefer anyway, he'll be looking suspiciously at any woman who's trying to get close to him in a dark alley, in a dark room, in a dark car. Anywhere dark, basically," Finn continued. "Which is where you do your best work, Gin."

It was after three the next afternoon. The lunch crowd had already come and gone, and it wasn't quite time for the dinner rush yet. Which is why Finnegan Lane sat on a stool beside the cash register shooting the breeze with me. In between scarfing down two hot dogs loaded with spicy chili, onions, shredded Cheddar cheese, and sweet honey mustard, along with baked beans and a big slice of my still-warm chocolate-chip pound cake.

I looked up from my copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and stared at my partner in crime. "Don't worry. You'll find an opening for me. You're my handler now. It's what you do, remember?"

"I am the best," Finn said in a not-so-modest voice. He chewed another bite of his hot dog. "But even I can't make you invisible, Gin. And that's what it's going to take to get close to Elliot Slater right now."

"I'm good at being invisible, remember?"

"True," Finn agreed. "But people tend to notice pesky little things like screams and bloodstains. Especially when there's a body to go along with them."

I rolled my eyes and went back to my book. Finn had come over for an early dinner and to help me brainstorm how I could get close enough to Elliot Slater to bury my silverstone knives in his broad back. So far, all Finn had done was eat my food and muse about how difficult it was going to be making sure the giant got dead before he killed Roslyn Phillips-or Bria. Finn's defeatist att.i.tude wasn't helping, and since I hadn't come up with any bright ideas of my own, I'd turned to Huck in hopes that something would spring to mind while I was reading about someone else's adventures. But nothing had so far- The front door opened, causing the bell to chime. I looked up from my book, ready to greet my potential customer. To my surprise, Roslyn Phillips stepped inside the restaurant. Today the vamp wore a short, plum-colored coat over a pair of winter white pants, which looked both elegant and s.e.xy on her at the same time. A silverstone pin gleamed on the lapel of Roslyn's jacket-a heart with an arrow through it. The symbol for her nightclub, Northern Aggression. Like most magic types, Roslyn wore her rune with pride.

The vamp paused in the doorway a moment, her toffee eyes sweeping over the interior. Roslyn had come during the postlunch lull, so the waitresses that had been working were in the alley behind the restaurant taking a long smoke break and eating their own dinner. Several customers still sat at the tables and booths against the windows, finis.h.i.+ng up their meals, lost in their own bubbles of conversation. When she realized no one was within earshot of Finn and me, she nodded, yanked the door shut behind her, and stomped over in our direction. The vampire's high heels clattered against the floor like falling silverware.

Roslyn slammed her small handbag down on the counter next to Finn, startling him and making him jiggle the spoonful of baked beans he'd been ready to shove into his mouth. The beans slipped off his spoon and splattered on his gray suit jacket, along with a healthy amount of barbecue sauce. Finn cursed and reached for a white paper napkin.

But Roslyn didn't care about Finn's fas.h.i.+on emergency. The vamp only had eyes for me-eyes that flashed with hot anger.

"What the f.u.c.k did you do to Elliot Slater last night?" she snarled.

"Lovely to see you again too, Roslyn." I marked my place in my book with a wayward credit card receipt and set it aside. "Care to take a seat?"

Roslyn plopped down on the stool next to Finn's, her back as tall and straight as the arrow in her rune pin. The vamp's hot gaze never left my face.

"I ask again," she snapped in a low voice only the three of us could hear. "What did you do to Elliot Slater last night?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. Killed a couple of his men. I was going to do him too, but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d ducked out a window and ran away before I could get down to business with him."

My confession didn't appease Roslyn. If anything, it made her angrier. I could tell by the way the vamp bared her pearl-white fangs at me. Finn gave Roslyn a sidelong glance and kept trying to rub the barbecue sauce out of his suit, more concerned about the stain setting in his jacket than the danger presented by the p.i.s.sed-off vampire. He was rather impractical that way.

"I take it there's a problem with Slater?" I asked in a quiet tone. "Beyond what you told me yesterday?"

Roslyn stared at me. I met her gaze with a calm one of my own. If anyone else had busted into my gin joint and b.i.t.c.hed about the way I handled my b.l.o.o.d.y, dangerous business, I would have set her straight, perhaps with the point of my knife. But Roslyn was the victim in all this, had suffered so much because of me, I was going to be as gentle with her as I could. Even if gentle was something I didn't really know how to do-or that I hadn't been myself in a long, long time.

After a few seconds, the vamp made a visible effort to get herself under control. Finn gave his stained jacket up as a lost cause. He sighed and tossed his crumpled napkin in the middle of his plate. Dinnertime was officially over.

"Would you care for something to eat or drink?" I asked, trying to be the responsible hostess once more.

"No," Roslyn muttered.

I ignored her curt answer and moved over to a gla.s.s cake stand resting on the counter against the back wall. I cut Roslyn a piece of the chocolate-chip pound cake and put the dessert in front of her, along with a tall gla.s.s of milk and a fork. Since no one liked warm milk, I wrapped my hand around the gla.s.s and reached for my Ice magic. A silver light glowed on my palm, centered on the spider rune scar embedded in my flesh. Ice crystals immediately formed on the surface of the mug, and a moment later, it was as cold and frosty as if I'd just taken it out of the freezer. Steam curled up from the lip of the gla.s.s.

Not so long ago, doing something as simple as cooling a drink had been about the extent of my Ice magic. Now it wasn't any harder than breathing. Jo-Jo Deveraux claimed that the silverstone metal melted into my palms had inhibited my Ice magic, since Ice elementals tended to release their power through their hands to make cubes, daggers, and other shapes-or just to blast someone with their cold magic.

But I'd finally overcome the blockage during a desperate moment when I was facing off with another elemental, when my life had been on the line. Now, doing things with my Ice power was far easier than it had been before. I was getting stronger in it too. Jo-Jo claimed that my Ice magic would continue to grow until it was just as powerful as my Stone power, making me the rarest of elementals-someone who was equally strong in two elements.

I wasn't exactly comfortable with that idea for a variety of reasons. Mainly because I'd seen my mother, Eira's, Ice magic let her down when she'd gone up against Mab Monroe. I wasn't so sure I wanted to tempt fate by relying on my own Ice magic when Mab and I had our inevitable confrontation. Because it would be d.a.m.ned ironic if Mab killed me the exact same way she had my mother and older sister. Irony. Always out to get you.

Roslyn eyed me some more, and I realized that I'd never done any kind of magic in front of the vamp before. That she hadn't even known I was an elemental until now. The other customers were all still too busy with their food to notice my small magical display.

I wasn't worried about Roslyn telling anyone, though. She'd agreed to keep quiet after what had happened to Fletcher Lane, and she'd held up once already under Elliot Slater's questioning. Her word was good.

Roslyn opened her mouth to turn down the food I'd just shoved her way, but I cut her off.