A leather jacket covered the bustier, which let me tuck my two usual silverstone knives up my sleeves. I sported another knife against the small of my back, while two more waited in the sides of my stiletto boots.
Jo-Jo had come over a little while ago to do my makeup, which consisted of rimming my eyes with silver liner and painting my lashes and lips the same cold color. The dwarf had also pulled my chocolate brown hair up into a high, tight ponytail and sprinkled silver glitter over the slicked-back locks. All put together, I looked like I was in the mood for a night of cold sex and frostbitten pain.
“Where did you get all this leather from?” I asked, turning to stare at myself from another angle.
“From Roslyn’s stash of costumes at Northern Aggression,” Finn said. “Where else would I get such come-hither clothes?”
Since leaving the Pork Pit, Finn had used his various connections to find out that there was a theme to tonight’s masquerade ball—Fire and Ice. How ironic. Finn had even managed to get photos emailed to him of what some of the other folks would be wearing in order to help Owen and me blend in. Hence all the leather.
“You look like a completely different person,” Bria said from her spot on the couch.
I turned and looked at my baby sister, who had an unreadable expression on her face. After closing down the restaurant, I’d come over to Fletcher’s house to tell her what was going on—and exactly what I was up to. Bria hadn’t liked it, hadn’t liked my making another run at Mab, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Not without getting captured by Gentry or one of the other bounty hunters and making the mess we were in that much worse.
“I don’t know. I think I like Gin’s costume a lot better than mine,” Owen rumbled and stepped into the den.
If I was the ice-queen dominatrix, then Owen was my eager client for the night. He also wore leather pants, although his were black and topped by a jacket and matching vest crisscrossed with silverstone chains. The magical metal clanked with every step he took. The two of us looked like a pair of sexual deviants ready to get our freak on, but according to Finn’s info, our costumes would be among the tamer ones at the party.
Owen and I were already late, so I checked my knives one final time, then turned to him.
“You ready?”
Owen nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
“We should go then,” I murmured.
I looked at Finn, then turned to Bria. My sister hadn’t said much while we’d been making plans and getting ready, but worry tightened her face—worry for me. The emotion made my heart twist and soar in my chest all at the same time. Despite what I was, despite all the people that I’d killed, Bria had somehow come to care for me, at least a little bit. It was more than I’d ever dreamed of—and somehow, it made everything that I’d suffered over the years worthwhile.
Bria leaned forward and grabbed my hand. Then, to my surprise, she reached for her Ice magic. For a moment, I wondered what she was doing, but then I felt her cool power trickle into the silverstone ring on my right index finger. Her ring, the one that she’d given me for Christmas. A slender silver band with a spider rune stamped in the middle of it.
Lots of elementals wore jewelry made out of silver-stone, since the metal was capable of absorbing and holding their magic. By wearing pieces of the metal, elementals could have access to an extra influx of power should they need it. Like, say, if they decided to duel another elemental, to test their power against the other person’s. It wasn’t cheating, not exactly, since everyone did it, but it was still sneaky.
The two rings on Bria’s left index finger hummed with her Ice magic, as did the primrose rune that she wore on the chain around her neck. My ring was small and thin, but the silverstone still soaked up quite a bit of Bria’s power, until it felt like a band of Ice pressing against my skin. The sensation wasn’t an unpleasant one. If anything, it comforted me to be taking a piece of my sister with me into battle.
“Thank you for that,” I said. “I had been meaning to store my magic in the ring, but hadn’t done it yet. I’m not one for wearing jewelry.”
“I’d noticed that,” Bria said in a wry tone. “And I know that you prefer to use your knives, but you just never know what you might need. Especially… tonight.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to offend my sister or push her farther away, but we both knew what I was planning to do tonight—kill Mab in cold blood the way that I had so many other people. Even if she deserved it for everything she’d done to us, part of Bria would have preferred to handle the Fire elemental through legal means, to throw her in jail and let her rot.
Not me. I just wanted Mab dead, and I wasn’t picky about how she got there.
“Just—just be careful, Gin. Okay?” Bria asked, staring at me.
I squeezed her cold fingers with mine. “I always am, baby sister. I always am.”
Thirty minutes later, Owen steered his BMW up the driveway that led to the Five Oaks Country Club, where the masquerade ball was being held. Five Oaks was the snobbiest, most expensive, and highfalutin country club in Ashland, and only the insanely wealthy and powerful were allowed to be members.
I stared out the window at the snow-covered buildings of the club. The last time I’d been here was several months ago when I’d been stalking Alexis James, the Air elemental who’d tortured and murdered Fletcher. Alexis had managed to outmaneuver me that day, taking Finn and Roslyn hostage and escaping before I could kill her. I couldn’t afford to be that sloppy tonight, not with Mab, or I’d be the one who wouldn’t be leaving the club alive.
“You ready?” Owen asked in a soft voice.
I let out a breath and nodded. “As I’ll ever be,” I said, echoing his words.
Owen leaned over in the darkness of the car and pressed his lips to mine. For a moment that was all too brief, I just let myself feel—Owen’s lips warming mine, the faintest rasp of his stubble against my skin, his fingers sliding down my cheek. I breathed in, letting his rich, earthy scent fill my nose.
And then the kiss ended, and I was the Spider once more.
A valet came and took the car away. After we made note of where he put it, Owen and I strolled inside the country club arm in arm. Owen gave his engraved invitation to the tuxedo-clad vampire manning the interior door. The vamp waved us on, and we stepped into the main ballroom. We moved to one side of the open doors, getting our bearings and watching the ebb and flow of people.
Five massive, circular buildings comprised the Five Oaks Country Club, including the ballroom before us, which covered several thousand feet and towered four stories into the air. Multiple sets of stairs led to the upper levels, each of which featured a balcony that circled the entire ballroom. The walkways made it all the better for the rich snobs to look down on their peers. A glass dome arched high overhead, forming the ceiling. Through the glass, I could just make out the soft curve of the moon. The bright silver sliver peaked through the thin clouds that wisped across the sky like a child playing peek-a-boo. Now you see me, now you don’t.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined the back wall of the ballroom, along with doors that led outside. In daylight hours, the sweeping view would show off the club’s acorn-shaped swimming pools, several tennis courts, and, of course, the green carpet of the back nine. Tonight, though, only darkness and snow peeped through.
Normally, round tables covered with pale peach linens would have filled the ballroom, each one with the country club’s rune—an acorn—stitched in gold thread in the center of the tablecloths and napkins. Since this was a masquerade ball, the decorations had been swapped out accordingly. Long, low settees done in red and black velvet ringed a black-and-white, checkerboard dance floor. Abstract elemental Ice sculptures squatted here and there throughout the ballroom, while more icicles dripped down the walls and clustered together in lieu of actual flowers. Black and crimson pillar candles thicker and taller than my arms burned in the middle of some of the icy arrangements, the flickerin
g flames making the frosted shards glitter like diamonds.
I had to give Finn his props, because he’d been right about our costumes. Owen and I looked practically tame and toothless in our leather, compared to how much skin some of the trophy wives were showing. One woman walked by wearing nothing but a diamond choker and strategically placed bits of elemental Ice—shaped like sharp, curving thorns no less. Another vamp wore several long, fluttering layers of gauzy red silk, although the fabric was far too transparent for the woman to be the chaste angel that her ruby halo proclaimed her to be. I even saw one woman dressed completely in silver spandex. She was supposed to be a superhero, I think. Karma Girl or somebody like that.
We grabbed a couple of drinks at the bar and circulated through the room. To keep up appearances, Owen chatted with all the business types that he knew. I made the appropriate polite noises when called upon, but I scanned the crowd the entire time, looking for my prey for the evening—Mab Monroe.
She appeared about twenty minutes after we did, a little trilling trumpet of fanfare heralding her arrival. Conversation dulled to a low hush at the sound, and all eyes turned to the entrance. A moment later, Mab stepped inside, dressed just as Finn had said she would be.
Dressed as the Spider.
Crimson leather covered the Fire elemental from head to toe, every inch of it molded to her lush, curvy figure, making it seem as though she’d bathed in blood. Maybe she had, given all the other horrible things she’d done.
The leather made Mab’s hair look even redder than it really was. Tonight the soft, curling waves reminded me of ribbons of fire swirling around her head. As always, Mab wore her trademark necklace—a large, circular ruby surrounded by several dozen flat, gold, wavy rays. A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab’s rune.
The Fire elemental turned her head to speak to someone just inside the door. The candlelight glinted off the diamond cutting on the gold, making the rays spark and flash, while the ruby glowed with its own inner fire. But the sunburst wasn’t the only symbol that Mab was wearing tonight.
The bitch also had on a spider rune—my rune.
A small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. The symbol was stitched in glossy black thread on the left side of Mab’s crimson catsuit—right where her heart would be, if she even had one and not just a gaping maw in her chest.
Mab had taken the costume one step further. A pair of knives glinted in the black leather belt that circled her waist. Truth be told, they were fairly accurate versions of my own weapons—the ones that I wanted to reach for right now.
Anger burned in my heart at her blatant mockery of me, and my vision went red with rage. Once again, just for a second, I let myself feel the emotion, let the anger pump through my veins, let the thumping roar of it drown out everything else.
And then I put it aside—pushed it down into the pit of my stomach where it would continue to smolder but not consume me. This was a trap, after all, and the costume was just another piece of it, something else to lure me in, to make me lose control. To make me careless, something that I would not allow to happen. Not tonight.
So I stared at my enemy again, this time with narrowed eyes and a cold, calm heart.
“Are those real silverstone knives she’s wearing?” I murmured to Owen.
He cocked his head to one side, and his violet eyes began to glow ever so slightly. Owen was using his magic, reaching out with his elemental talent for metal.
“They are,” he murmured back. “High-end ones too. Made of almost pure silverstone.”
We watched as Mab shook hands with a dwarf dressed like a miniature version of Jack Frost.
“What do you want to do, Gin?” Owen asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “She’s got too many people around her right now, and she’s probably expecting me to strike immediately. Let’s give her a chance to settle in and get good and bored waiting for me to make my move.”
Owen nodded, and we moved off into the crowd.
But Mab wasn’t the only enemy that I had here tonight, because she’d brought someone with her—Jonah McAllister.
McAllister was Mab’s lawyer, the number-two man in her organization who was responsible for burying the Fire elemental’s foes in so much legal red tape that they choked on it. Usually, McAllister wore a suit that was as slick and sharp as he was, but tonight the lawyer had forgone the ball’s Fire and Ice theme in favor of dressing up like a pirate. Yargh.
A black patch covered one of his cold brown eyes, although he hadn’t bothered putting a bandana over his styled coif of thick silver hair. A loose white shirt stretched across his chest, topped off by a red sash that was patterned with Mab’s sunburst rune. The shirt and sash tucked into a pair of black breeches, which themselves tucked into a pair of matching boots. McAllister also had a curved scimitar strapped to his waist, made out of the same kind of silverstone as Mab’s faux Spider knives, from the looks of it.
Despite his sixty-something years, McAllister’s face was as smooth as glass underneath his eye patch. The lawyer was one of those who used Air elemental facials to fight the ravages of time. In fact, he was more vain about keeping his face wrinkle-free than most women.
Jonah McAllister had an active desire to see me dead, ever since I’d killed his son, Jake, a few months ago. Jake had come into the Pork Pit one night and tried to rob my gin joint. When I’d put Jake in his place, he and his father had gotten a little upset about it, threatening to run me out of business, among other, more unpleasant things.
A few days later, Jake had confronted me at a party at Mab’s mansion with the intention of raping and murdering me. After he got done spouting his threats, I’d stabbed him to death with one of my knives and left his body in the Fire elemental’s bathtub.
As I’d been in disguise at the party, Jonah McAllister had no real proof that I’d killed his son. But since I, as Gin Blanco, was one of the few people who’d ever dared to stand up to his kid, McAllister had rightly assumed that I’d had something to do with Jake’s death. He just couldn’t prove it. Still, he’d been keeping an eye on me ever since, waiting for his chance to strike.
Maybe if things went well with Mab tonight, I’d take out Jonah too. A little reward to myself for a job well done.
McAllister saw me staring at him. His nostrils flared with anger, and his mouth puckered into a cold frown that didn’t register at all on the rest of his tight, ageless face. Since I was on Owen’s arm tonight, there was nothing that McAllister could do about my being here, and we both knew it. So I waggled my fingers at him and blew the bastard a kiss. McAllister’s mouth pursed that much more, but I didn’t care.
Because I was ready to end this—all of this—tonight.
The minutes slipped by and turned into one hour, then two. I kept my attention on Mab as much as I could, waiting for her to separate herself from the crowd and her giant bodyguards who roamed through the room. I counted five of them on the ballroom floor, never moving more than a few feet away from the Fire elemental, looking for anyone suspicious or out of place. Even more giants strolled along the balconies above my head, continually circling the area. Their diligence would have made it impossible for me to station myself on a higher floor and snipe Mab from above, even if I’d managed to somehow sneak a crossbow into the club.
For her part, Mab seemed content to stay in the middle of the crowd and not wander off by herself where I could kill her. Still, I was the Spider, and I was good at being patient. I’d waited seventeen years for this moment. A few more minutes or even a few more hours was nothing in comparison to that.
Just before midnight, though, I finally got my chance.
Jonah turned to speak to someone and then swiveled back toward Mab—hitting her arm and spilling his bourbon all over the front of her crimson catsuit in the process. The liquor soaked into the spider rune on Mab’s chest, making the symbol look like an inky stain bleeding over her heart.
The conversation around them froze, as Mab glared at her attorney, h
er black eyes as cold as the Ice sculptures that decorated the ballroom. Jonah murmured a hasty apology, but Mab was having none of it. The Fire elemental brushed him off with a wave of her hand.
Then she left the ballroom.
Mab stalked through the open double doors and vanished from sight, probably headed toward one of the bathrooms to try to wipe the bourbon off her expensive leather. I waited several seconds, expecting at least one or two of her giant bodyguards to fall in behind her. But none of them did.
“That looked a little too deliberate to me,” Owen murmured.
“Oh, yeah,” I replied. “It was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the head. But it means that her men have no clue who I am and that she’s tired of waiting for me to show myself. So she’s putting herself out there instead, the final bit of bait in the trap, which means that I have to follow. So wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Owen said.
He didn’t kiss me, not this time, but our eyes locked together. No words were spoken—we didn’t need them. I could see the emotions flashing and sparking in Owen’s gaze. Worry. Concern. Determination.
Love.
I stared back at him, trying to tell Owen all the things I wanted to say to him, all of the things that I just couldn’t find the words for. He nodded once and squeezed my hand, his fingers warming my icy ones.
I squeezed back, then slipped out of the ballroom, heading after Mab.
At last.
I stepped through the double doors of the ballroom and turned to my right, just as Mab had done. The Fire elemental strolled down the hallway about a hundred feet ahead of me, before coming to a junction and turning right again.
I followed her, although I dawdled, staring at the oil paintings on the walls, the crystal vases with their elaborate arrangements of roses, and anything else that caught my eye. Going straight after the Fire elemental would have tipped my hand, but now I was just another bored costumed character escaping the cloying confines of the ballroom in search of some fresh air. At least, that’s the persona that I affected. Whether it would work well enough to get me close to Mab remained to be seen.