Thread of Death

Page 7

I lay there sprawled over the dwarf, my hand curled around the bloody knife still in his chest, breathing hard, sweat pouring down my face, my whole body shaking from the exertion of the fight and the adrenaline running through my veins. I wanted nothing more than to lie there until the tremors and exhaustion passed, but I made myself roll off the dwarf, pull the knife out of his chest, and sit up.
The cemetery was completely quiet.
I peered out over the still, silent landscape, my eyes going from one gravestone to the next. But no one else could be seen lurking among the monuments, and there weren't any more snipers perched in the trees, hidden among the leafy branches, waiting to take another shot at me.
When I realized I was alone and that the danger had passed, I let go of my Stone magic. Then, knife still in hand, I lay down on my side in the bloody grass and curled into a loose ball. I stayed that way until the air was back in my lungs and my arms and legs quit trembling.
I could have stayed there longer, in the quiet of the cemetery, recovering from the fight, but I just didn't have the time - not with three dead bodies dotting the grass around me. So, after a minute or two had passed, I roused myself into a sitting position, then managed to stagger to my feet even though my twisted knee still throbbed with pain.
I looked at Mab's casket. It was closed just like it had been before the fight, although the dwarf's shovel was still stuck in the side of it, like an arrow in a target, scarring the black surface of the wood. But the sunburst rune on the side was still intact, the ruby in the middle just a shade brighter than the dwarves' blood that covered my clothes and body. The golden rays and faceted sides of the gem seemed to wink at me, like eyes opening and closing, as the afternoon sun reflected off them.
"What are you looking at?" I muttered.
The rune didn't respond. If anything, it just glinted a little brighter, almost like Mab was mocking me one final time.
Phillip Kincaid
I couldn't believe she'd killed the three dwarves.
Oh, I'd heard the rumors for weeks now about Gin Blanco. About how she was a powerful Ice and Stone elemental. About how she was really the assassin the Spider. And most especially about how she was the one who'd finally killed Mab.
Jonah McAllister had whispered those things and many more into my ears while trying to insinuate himself into my good graces. McAllister shouldn't have bothered sucking up to me. The cocky bastard had caused me far too many problems over the years while working for Mab for me to ever consider allying myself with him. Still, his information interested me enough to do my own digging into Gin Blanco. Family murdered, some time living on the Southtown streets, taken in and raised by an old man who was also rumored to be an assassin. What I found had only made me that much more curious about her.
She'd caught my attention earlier today when she ran toward the sniper in the tree instead of finding a tombstone to hide behind like most everyone else had. Not something a normal person would do. So when it became obvious that she wanted to say her good-byes to Mab alone, I pretended to leave the cemetery, then snuck in a back way and took up a position behind the same tree the sniper had been in earlier.
At first, nothing happened, except that Blanco said a few soft words to the coffin that I couldn't quite hear. Then the dwarves appeared. I thought they'd merely come to dig Mab's grave, but they crept up on Blanco and attacked while her back was turned.
I thought about shouting a warning, showing myself, and stepping into the fight, but Blanco didn't need my help. She moved with ease and grace, like the knife in her hand was a natural extension of her own body: Owen's work, I'd wager. He'd always enjoyed making weapons, and what better present to give his assassin lover than a knife or two?
It was one thing to think that Blanco was an assassin; it was another to see her handiwork for myself. She was as impressive and dangerous as McAllister claimed, striking quickly, brutally, and ruthlessly, with no wasted movements, no hesitation, and no remorse.
I watched Blanco stab the last dwarf to death. She slumped over his body and then rolled over onto the ground, and I thought she might be injured herself. But after a few seconds she got back up on her feet. She looked down at the dwarf, her face cold and dispassionate, then slid her bloody knife up her sleeve with no more thought than most people would give to tucking spare change into their pocket. Definitely no remorse there. I liked that about her.
"Wow," a voice whispered in my ear. "She really is an assassin. She really is the Spider."
I looked at the giant hunkered down in the grass beside me: Antonio Mendez, my right-hand man and my friend, one of the few that I had these days.
"It appears so," I murmured. "For once, McAllister actually told the truth about something."
Now all that was left was to decide what I was going to do with the information. Unlike McAllister, I didn't want Blanco dead. No, I had something else in mind for her. I'd heard some nasty rumors lately about an old enemy of mine who was coming back to Ashland, and I was thinking that Blanco was the perfect person to help me with my problem. I just needed to convince Blanco of that. But it wouldn't take much doing. Not when she realized who my enemy really was - and what a threat that person was going to be to her and what she loved.
I thought my enemy had shown her face here today - that mysterious woman in black. Rage had filled my whole body, and I was tempted to pull out my gun and start blasting at her. But I watched her, and I realized the mystery woman wasn't who I'd thought she was. Oh, no. My enemy wouldn't have been content to stay in the background like that. I didn't know who the mystery woman was, and I didn't really care. No, I had much bigger worries right now, like figuring out exactly when my enemy would return to Ashland - and finally come after me.
"Now what?" Antonio whispered, breaking into my thoughts.
I looked at Blanco, but all she did was face the coffin and lower her head to it again.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go and let her pay her respects in peace. I think she's earned it."
Antonio and I slipped away from Mab's grave site. I wanted a few minutes to think about what I'd just seen, so I told Antonio that I'd walk to the front of the cemetery and meet him there. The giant nodded and went to get the car from where he'd parked it on the back side of the cemetery.
I slowly wandered through the cemetery, looking at all the tombstones and the names of those buried here. I should have been planted a long time ago in some pauper's grave, but I'd managed to survive against the odds. Something I had in common with Blanco, I supposed.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts about the assassin that I didn't even see Owen until I was twenty feet away from him.
He was leaning against his car, lost in his own thoughts, but he turned at the scuff of my footsteps in the grass. Owen straightened up at the sight of me. His whole body stiffened, and the old, familiar anger blazed in his eyes. Even now, after all these years, he still hated me for what he thought I'd done. I couldn't decide whether I despised him or pitied him for being such a fool, for not realizing that I wasn't the villain - that I never had been. We'd been friends once - brothers, even - but that was gone now, long gone, destroyed in an instant by vicious lies and Owen's inability to see through them.
Still, I couldn't stop myself from veering in his direction and halting right in front of him.
"Owen." I nodded my head politely at him.
"Phillip," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Come to pay your respects, I see."
Owen shrugged.
He might hate me, but we had some similar business interests, so he had to deal with and even speak to me on occasion. I went out of my way to make him interact with me as often as possible. It pleased me to see his jaw clench when I knew that all he really wanted to do was punch me. Childish of me, but it was the only revenge I could force myself to take - on Owen, anyway. It wasn't completely his fault things had turned out like they had.
"And Gin?" I asked. "Did she come to pay her respects as well?"
Owen's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about Gin?"
This time I shrugged. "Just what all the rumors say. That she's the assassin the Spider. That she's the one who killed Mab. Then, of course, there was the display she put on here today. Going after that sniper wasn't exactly a smart move, if you ask me. All she's done is draw attention to and set herself up to be a target for the other crime bosses. I imagine almost all of them will want her dead now."
Chapter Eight
"What do you know about the sniper?" Owen demanded, his hands clenching into fists. "Did you hire him to kill Gin? Were you behind the attack today?"
"Of course not," I snapped. "If I were going after Gin, I would go after her myself - not hire someone to do it for me. I'm man enough to do my own dirty work. So were you, once upon a time. I'd thought you'd remember that, given all those clever jobs we pulled together."
Owen stared at me with suspicion, but after a moment he forced himself to relax. It seemed like he was going to believe me - about this anyway. "So if it wasn't you, then who do you think was behind the sniper attack?"
"McAllister, I imagine," I said. "He's looking for work, and some of the other bosses haven't been very . . . kind to him. Too bad he hired someone with lousy aim. Or maybe he just wanted your friend to show everyone exactly who she is and confirm all the nasty rumors he's been spreading about her. Either way, McAllister wins."
I hesitated. "But let's talk about more pleasant things. How's Eva?"
I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't stop myself from asking the question. I missed Eva. I missed a lot of things - things that had unfairly been taken away from me. Things that I thought Blanco just might be able to help me get back - finally, after all these years.
The anger flared up in Owen's eyes again. "Don't you dare ask me anything about Eva," he snarled. "Don't you even think about my sister."
I held up my hands. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just one old friend asking after another."
"Well, don't," he snapped. "And we aren't friends. Not anymore. Not in years now."
"Believe me, I know. You've never let me forget that."
"What does that mean?" Owen snapped again.
I thought about telling him what I meant, about what had really happened all those years ago, but he wouldn't listen to me. He hadn't back then, and he wouldn't now.
It was his stubborn refusal to believe me that hurt the worse, despite how much time had passed.
A beep sounded, saving me from answering. Antonio steered the car down the narrow road. The giant stopped a few feet away and beeped again.
"Well," I drawled. "It looks like my ride is here. A pleasure seeing you again, Owen. Just like it always is."
He glared at me. I started to head toward the car but stopped after a few steps. Even now, after what he'd done to me, part of me still cared about him - enough to turn around and let him know what was going on.
"You should go check on your friend," I said. "She had a rough time of it at Mab's coffin."
"What do you mean?" Owen asked again.
Instead of answering him, I just smiled, my blue eyes as cold as his were. "She really is something. I look forward to getting to know Gin better in the future. It'll be here sooner than you think."
Owen's knuckles cracked as his fists tightened that much more. He took a step forward, but I turned my back on him, walked over to the car, and got inside. I'd just shut the passenger door behind me when Blanco hobbled into view, covered with blood. Owen glared at me a final time before hurrying over to her. I watched him put his arms around her, and I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. He had no idea what was coming, but I did - and I was going to be ready for it.
"Phillip?" Antonio asked.
"Let's go," I said. "I'm done here."
My friend put the car in gear and drove out of the cemetery. I looked in the passenger-side mirror, getting a final glimpse of Owen and his new love before we rounded a curve and they disappeared from sight.
I sighed. Maybe Owen wasn't the only fool here. Maybe I was, too, for still caring about him, for still wanting to protect him from what was coming. I wondered if Gin felt the same way - and what she'd do when she learned the truth about me, Owen, and our checkered past together.
A past that was going to come to light soon - very, very soon.
Gin Blanco
I left the dwarves' bodies where they were and slid my bloody knife up my sleeve. Now that the funeral and fight were over, the black coffin seemed smaller than I remembered, its surface looking dull and tarnished.
Still, I couldn't help but think of the irony of the situation. The remains of my mortal enemy were in that coffin. I'd thought my battle with Mab was finally over with, but I'd just added three more bodies to the cemetery's count - and the Fire elemental hadn't even been buried yet. Maybe it was fitting that I'd had to fight for my life at Mab's grave site, just like I'd been battling her these last few months.
So I lowered my head once more, paying my last respects to the woman who had been such a big part of my life for so long.
"Good-bye, Mab," I said. "It was a hell of a fight while it lasted."
The sunburst rune on the side glimmered at me a final time, almost like it was blinking in agreement, before I turned away from the coffin.
I slowly hobbled through the cemetery, wincing every time I put my weight on my left foot, and trying to come to terms with my feelings. I guess part of me had foolishly hoped with Mab dead that I could just go back to my quiet life as Gin Blanco, restaurant owner. But after today, I knew that wasn't going to happen - not after everyone had gotten an eyeful of me at the funeral, chasing after the sniper and then getting him out of the tree. No, unless I'd missed my guess, I'd just brought myself a whole lot of unwanted attention. All that remained to be seen was how it played out, but I was willing to bet it was going to involve me fighting for my life.