As if in answer to my need, a building loomed up out of the darkness, lights burning on the outside of the structure.
Cesar Vaughn’s mausoleum.
My steps faltered, my heel caught on a rock, and I almost did a header onto the dewy grass. But there was no going back, only away from Porter, his bullets, and whatever other evil things Sebastian might have in mind for me. Torture, most likely. Charlotte had said that he enjoyed hurting people.
My heart squeezed again at the thought of her, of what she must have suffered at her brother’s hands, and especially how I’d taken her father away from her.
But I could have regrets later—if I lived that long.
So I raced through the open doorway and ducked into the mausoleum, stopping inside the entrance. Then I raised the knife that I was still clutching and waited—just waited for him to come inside. No doubt, Porter thought that I would keep right on running through the building and out the opening on the back side, but that wasn’t who I was. Besides, maybe if I captured him, I could force him to call off the giants he’d sicced on Finn and Fletcher—before I slit his throat.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
More bullets pinged off the doorway as Porter neared the mausoleum. The giant stopped to reload his weapon, so I risked a quick glance around.
A light burned in the center of the ceiling, casting a dim golden glow. The structure was smaller than I thought it would be and shaped like a rotunda. Crystal vases full of those dark blue roses perched on shelves that had been carved into the gray marble walls, and four stone tombs stood in the center of the area. Two of the tombs had words carved into the tops of them, including the one closest to me, which read: Cesar Vaughn, Beloved Father and Husband.
I grimaced and turned my attention back to my attacker. Porter finished reloading his weapon and started to run toward the entrance, but Sebastian had finally caught up with us. He held his hand out in front of the giant.
“Stop,” Sebastian said. “I didn’t see her run out the other side. Unless I’m mistaken, Gin is lying in wait for us in there.”
He stepped forward so that he was standing about twenty feet from the mausoleum entrance, bathed in the golden glow from the lights that blazed on the outside of the structure. If I thought that I could hit him with my knife from here, I would have thrown it at him, but my arms felt as wobbly as my legs. Besides, the blade was my only weapon, and I wasn’t wasting it like that. No, the only thing I wanted to do with my knife was bury it in Sebastian’s black heart.
“Gin, Gin, Gin,” Sebastian called out in a mocking voice. “You really should have stayed in bed. You wouldn’t have known what hit you. Now I’m afraid that you’re going to have to suffer.”
“Really?” I called out. “I think that I’ve suffered enough already, letting you put your hands on me, you sick, slimy bastard.”
He laughed, apparently delighted by my answer. “From what I saw, it seems you were eavesdropping on me and Mab in the library. That seems to be a bad habit of yours. But I take it that you heard what I said to her?”
“Every last word.”
“Well, then, there’s no need for us to lie to each other any longer, now, is there?” He practically purred. “You know who I am, and I know who you are too.”
“I’m not who you think I am. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not some assassin. I’m just a waitress.”
Yeah, it was a weak denial at best, but if I died here tonight, I at least wanted to give Finn and Fletcher some plausible deniability, even if Sebastian was sending his giants after them.
He laughed again, even more amused than before. “Maybe you can sell that line to someone else but not to me. I’m a much better liar than you are, Gin. Although I can’t figure out if you actually killed my father yourself or stood by and watched while your foster father or brother did it. I suppose that any one of you could be the assassin. Care to tell me who it is? Hmm? I’m just dying to know.” He laughed again at his stupid joke.
“I’m not telling you a damn thing, you black-hearted son of a bitch,” I growled back.
“Come on, boss,” Porter snapped. “Let me go in there and take care of her.”
The giant raised his gun and started forward, but once again, Sebastian held out his arm, stopping him.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Gin,” Sebastian called out. “Come out now, and I promise you that we’ll have some fun together before you die.”
“No, thanks,” I shot back. “I’d rather die where I stand than let you put your hands on me again.”
He grinned. “Well, that can certainly be arranged.”
I adjusted my knife in my hand, getting it into position. “Well, come on in here, and we’ll find out.”
Porter tightened his grip on his gun and looked at Sebastian, who shook his head at the giant. Sebastian made a circling motion with his hand, and Porter nodded and disappeared from my line of sight.
“Since you and your family killed my father, I’m sure you did your homework beforehand. I’m sure you know all about his Stone elemental magic, since he used it to shatter all of those stupid models in his office, I assume in a desperate attempt to save his own miserable life.”
Sebastian paused, as if he was waiting for me to confirm his suspicions, but I kept quiet.
“Well, I thought you should know that I lied to you before, Gin,” Sebastian called out. “Because my father’s not the only one in the family with that particular power.”
All around me, the marble of the mausoleum began to mutter with deep, dark intent, the same deep, dark mutters that I’d first heard at the construction compound and then again in the mansion. All this time, I’d thought that Cesar had caused the murmurs, a by-product of his abusive actions toward Charlotte. Wrong again, Gin.
“Many people sneer at it, but Stone magic is actually quite handy,” Sebastian called out. “It has all sorts of uses.”
A thought occurred to me. “Like crumbling restaurant terraces?”
Surprise flashed across Sebastian’s face before he was able to hide it. But he grinned again. “Just like that.”
So that’s what Vaughn had had Harry Coolidge investigating, and that’s what had been in the file: exactly how Sebastian had caused the terrace collapse. Coolidge had said something about getting an elemental to go over the crime scene. It must have been a Stone elemental, one who’d sensed the same disturbance in the balcony rubble that I had at the mansion. The other elemental had just been smart enough to figure out who and what had caused it. Unlike me, the colossal fool.
“Did you even care about those innocent people you hurt at that restaurant?” I called out. “Or were you so eager to get your father out of the way that it just didn’t matter to you?”
I already knew the answer, but it kept Sebastian from unleashing his magic for another few precious seconds, which might give me enough time to slip out the back and get away . . .
No such luck.
I hurried over to the far side of the mausoleum, but Porter had already taken up a position there, his gun trained on the entrance, ready to shoot me the second I stepped outside.
Trapped—I was trapped.
If I’d been at full strength, it wouldn’t have been a problem. I would have barreled through the opening, used my Stone magic to harden my skin, and then plunged my knife into Porter’s chest before racing around the structure and doing the exact same thing to Sebastian.
But whatever drug had been in the champagne had weakened me, and my frantic run through the mansion and across the grounds had further sapped my strength. My entire body trembled, sweat streamed down my face, and a stitch throbbed in my side. It was all I could do to stand upright and hold on to my knife at the same time.
Everything felt loose and slippery, including my magic. I reached for my Stone power, but it slid out of my grasp like a wet fish. I bit back a curse and tried again, with the exact same result. No, I’d have to find another way to get past Porter and his gun and then disappe
ar into the woods beyond the mansion.
“Don’t care who I hurt?” Sebastian mocked. “Oh, Gin. I’m very particular about who I hurt. Why waste my time on people who are of no use to me?”
“Oh, really?” I called out, just to keep him crowing.
I stalked from one side of the mausoleum to the other, hoping to find another exit, a trapdoor, or something, anything, that would help me. But there was nothing, and I wound up standing next to Vaughn’s tomb, staring down at the words carved into the bottom of it: Gone Too Soon.
Because of me. And just like me, in another minute, two tops, if Sebastian had his way.
“Yes, really.”
I crept back up to the entrance and peered out. “Is that why you like to slap your sister around? Because teenage girls are so useful to your grand schemes?”
For once, I managed to wipe the smug grin off Sebastian’s face.
“Charlotte needs to learn her place,” he snarled. “I was the firstborn. I was the one my parents loved the most—at least, until she came along.”
My eyebrows shot up. Looked like Finn and I weren’t the only ones who had some sibling rivalry going on—if that’s what you could even call Sebastian’s twisted jealousy of his baby sister.
“Charlotte’s weak, just like our father was,” Sebastian continued. “Always whining, always crying, always whimpering about every little thing. She should be grateful that I’m here to look out for her, to teach her how to toughen up and be as strong as I am.”
I snorted. The only thing Sebastian wanted to teach anyone about was pain.
“Keep telling yourself that, sugar.” I mocked him with the same endearment that he’d said to me earlier in bed. “Instead of just the fact that you’re a sick, sadistic son of a bitch who gets his kicks beating up kids. A real prince, you are. A real king of industry and empire.”
I made my voice as mocking and disdainful as possible, hoping that I would enrage Sebastian enough to get him to rush into the mausoleum to try to kill me himself. For a moment, I thought that it might actually work. Sebastian’s cheeks reddened with fury, the hot emotion mottling his tan skin, and his hands clenched into tight fists. He even went so far as to take a few steps forward before he thought better of it and stopped. I had to admire his self-restraint.
Even if it was going to be the death of me.
“You know what, Gin?” Sebastian said. “You’re as weak and pitiful as Charlotte is. More so, really. So starved for affection, so hungry for attention, so desperate for some-one to love you that you leaped at the opportunity to cozy up to the son of the man you murdered. What kind of sick, sadistic, twisted bitch does that make you? Were you ever going to tell me what you did to my father? Or were you under the impression that it wouldn’t matter? That we would just live happily ever after? Are you really that delusional?”
This time, the angry blush stained my cheeks, making them burn even in the cool dark of the mausoleum. But like Sebastian, I didn’t give in to my anger, and I didn’t respond to him. Instead, I glanced over my shoulder at Porter, but the giant stood in the same position as before, ready to shoot me the second I stepped out of the mausoleum.
When he realized that I wasn’t going to answer, Sebastian shrugged. “No matter. I don’t really care, anyway. I never did care, you know, especially not about you.”
Despite everything that I’d learned about him in the last hour, his words still hurt me, cutting me to the core and then eating away at everything there like a chain saw slicing through a tough cord of wood. But it was my own fault, for not listening to Finn, for not putting more faith in Fletcher’s feeling that something was wrong about the job, but most of all, for being an easy, stupid mark, just like Sebastian had said.
Oh, yes. Arrogance will get you, every single time. I had no one to blame but myself, especially for what was about to happen next.
“Oh, come on, now, Gin,” Sebastian said. “Don’t be a sore loser. I was always going to win, you know. There was never any doubt about that. You just made it a bit easier than I expected.”
Once again, I didn’t respond.
“Fine.” He pouted. “If you don’t want to play anymore, then neither do I. In fact, I think that it’s rather fitting that you’re cowering in there, right beside my dead father, since you were the one who killed him. It’s so terribly, tragically ironic. And it will make this all the easier and sweeter.”
Sebastian raised his hands, and the amber flecks in his dark eyes, the ones that I’d thought were so beautiful, began to brighten as he reached for his Stone magic. All around me, the marble of the mausoleum took on even sharper, harsher mutters. It knew what Sebastian was going to do with it—and so did I.
He kept gathering and gathering his magic, until his eyes burned like two topaz torches set into his handsome face, and his skin took on a hard sheen, as though it was made of the same marble that he had so much control over. Sebastian was like me in that his magic was completely self-contained. He’d never used it around me, which was why I hadn’t sensed it before. But now that he was actively reaching for his magic, I could feel exactly how powerful he was.
He was strong—much, much stronger than his father had been, stronger even than I was. Jo-Jo had always told me that I was a powerful elemental, but Sebastian far surpassed me. No wonder he’d been able to crumble that restaurant balcony. With the amount of magic he was wielding right now, it would have been child’s play to him, as easy as knocking over a stack of wooden blocks.
Sebastian grinned, and his eyes locked with mine, despite the shadows that lay between us. Then he brought his hands down and unleashed his magic, driving the invisible waves of it into the ground at his feet and then into the mausoleum.
His magic made the ground ripple, like a whip that was rising up and getting ready to crack down—right on top of my head. His Stone power raced through all of the rocks in the ground, leapfrogging from one to another, until it reached the foundation of the mausoleum. And I finally realized what Sebastian was going to do. He didn’t dare come in here and fight me himself, so he was going to do the next best thing.
The bastard was going to bury me alive.
Oh, no, the irony didn’t escape me. Me, a Stone elemental, about to be smashed to death by the very thing that I felt such kinship with, that I had such control over.
Sebastian’s magic raced up through the foundation and then raged outward. The slick floor bucked and heaved under my feet, while chunks of stone broke off the columns that held up the domed roof. Without those supports, it wouldn’t be long before the entire structure collapsed in on itself and on me.
Desperate, I looked around, wondering how I could keep from being crushed to death by tons of falling, broken rock. Once again, I reached for my own Stone magic, and once again, it slipped away from me, as though it were water that I was trying to hold in the palms of my hands. Through the thick, choking dust that had sprung up from the shattered marble, I could see Sebastian standing outside the mausoleum, pouring more and more of his magic into destroying every last part of the structure. Through the other opening, Porter waited, ready to put a bullet through my heart should I try to escape that way.
I was trapped, with nothing but cold, hard stone raining down on me.
Still, I looked around, trying to figure some way out of here. Sebastian sent another surge of magic into the mausoleum, and a large chunk of marble broke off from one of the columns, sailed through the air, and hit the top of Cesar’s tomb. But the marble shattered instead of the stone slab.
My eyes narrowed as I wondered if I’d really seen what I thought I had. Because that shouldn’t have happened, not unless . . . unless . . . the tombs were heavier and stronger than the marble columns.
And a thought finally occurred to me, a crazy way I could save myself from the falling stone. I didn’t like it, but it was the only chance I had.
Even as the floor shook under my feet and more and more pieces of stone cracked off the columns, I staggered
over to Cesar’s tomb. Sure enough, it was made out of a tougher granite, rather than the more delicate marble that made up the mausoleum. Lucky for me, the granite slab was just resting on top of the tomb and hadn’t been bolted or welded down. I pushed and pushed against the slab, trying to get it to move, but it was far too heavy for me to lift on my own. I doubted even Porter could have managed it with his giant strength.
I screamed with frustration, even though I couldn’t hear the sound over the continual crashes of the plummeting stone. Desperate, I reached for my magic again. It was difficult, as difficult as catching raindrops in my hands, but I managed to grab hold of a small trickle of power and send it flowing into the top of the tomb, even as I grabbed the edge of it with my hands. I couldn’t lift the tomb lid, but maybe I didn’t have to.
Slide, I commanded the stone with every bit of magic and muscle that I could muster. Slide, damn you, slide!
Slowly, very, very slowly, the granite began to obey my frenzied orders. It slid to the right one measly inch. I tightened my grip on the edge and sent another wave of power into the stone, even as I shoved at it with all my might. It moved another inch. Then two more, then five more, then an entire foot.
The stench of death wafted up out of the tomb, and I found myself staring down at Cesar Vaughn’s pale, waxen face. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest and the expensive suit that he wore. He seemed to be at peace, which was not at all how he’d left his life, thanks to me.
I killed an innocent man.
The thought slammed into me, as sharp and brutal as before, and I knew that it would always feel this way. And that what I was about to do now would only make it worse.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, although the crashes of the crumbling rocks drowned out my voice.
But there was no time for remorse or regrets. Not now. So I sent another wave of magic into the stone, making the slab slide a few more precious inches to the left.
And then I lifted my leg over the side of the tomb and hoisted myself up and inside it.