Deadly Sting

2

I grabbed some tissues out of a box in the fitting room and spent the next ten minutes scrubbing the dwarf’s blood off my skin. After peering at my reflection in the mirror to make sure I’d gotten as much of it as I could, I put my own clothes back on, tucked my knives into their appropriate slots, and slipped on my boots.

That electronic chime sounded again, telling me that someone new had come into the store. So I stepped out of the fitting room and went into the front of the boutique.

Finn was once again standing in front of the jewelry case, but he’d been joined by my sister, Bria Coolidge. Bria wore her usual black boots and dark jeans, along with a light blue button-up shirt. A silverstone primrose rune rested in the hollow of her throat, and her gold badge was clipped to her black leather belt, along with her gun.

Red and Blondie stood against the wall behind the case, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, glossy lips puckered with displeasure. They were none too happy about my sister’s arrival. Even in her cop clothes, Bria was quite lovely, with her shaggy blond hair, rosy skin, and vivid blue eyes. Not to mention the adoring way Finn looked at her. He might flirt with every woman who crossed his path, but Bria was the one who made his eyes soften and his face brighten in that warm, special way. She was the one who had his heart, and Red and Blondie could see it just as easily as everyone else could.

But Bria hadn’t come alone. A giant who was around seven feet tall reached down and hauled the dwarf to his feet before slapping a set of silverstone handcuffs on the robber. The giant’s hair, skin, and eyes were all a rich shade of ebony, while his shaved head gleamed in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows. Xavier, Bria’s partner on the force, was another member of my makeshift extended family.

Xavier finished securing the cuffs, then put one hand on the robber’s shoulder to keep the much shorter man from falling over. The dwarf’s eyes were slightly unfocused, and blood still dripped from the cuts I’d opened up on his face when I’d pistol-whipped him. Still, he surged forward at the sight of me.

“You bitch!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you for this!”

“Sure you will,” I said in an easy voice. “Take a number and get in line.”

Xavier tightened his grip on the dwarf’s shoulder, holding him in place, and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “I’ll say this, Gin. There’s never a dull moment when you’re around.”

I winked at him. “I do my best to keep y’all employed—and entertained.”

Xavier laughed again and took the would-be robber outside, where a dark sedan with flashing blue and white lights waited by the curb.

I went over to the others. Finn leaned against the case, his elbows on the glass and his face propped up in his hands. He stared dreamily at Bria as she crouched down and examined some of the diamond jewelry scattered on the floor. Red and Blondie were still standing against the wall, although they’d now focused their laser-hot glares on Finn. Not that he noticed; Finn excelled at ignoring little unpleasantries like that.

I elbowed him in the side. “I think you’ve officially lost your fan club.”

“Hmm?” Finn said, unabashedly admiring Bria’s ass. “What did you say?”

I elbowed him a little harder and jerked my head at the two women. He finally deigned to glance in that direction.

“Oh, them? No worries,” he murmured.

Finn straightened up, adjusted his tie, and plastered a smile on his face. Then he squared his shoulders and swaggered over to them with all the confidence in the world, even though anger still pinched their faces. But that was Finn for you—always ready, willing, and eager to tame the savage female beast. Or beasts, in this case.

“Ladies,” he said. “Have I told you both how very brave you were? Why, it was just amazing the way you both kept your cool when that horrible thug stormed into the store . . .”

And he was off, telling the saleswomen just how much he admired their levelheaded gumption in the face of such terrible danger and other such nonsense. He only stopped talking long enough to draw in a necessary breath here and there, dazzling them with smile after toothy smile.

While Finn soothed their ruffled feathers and bruised egos, I stepped around the display case.

“Hey there, baby sister,” I said.

Bria smiled and got to her feet. “Hey there yourself. You know, when Finn told me that he was taking you shopping this afternoon, I didn’t imagine things would turn out quite like this.”

My gaze dropped to the bloodstains on the thick gray carpet. “Me either.”

“Still, you made my day a little easier,” she continued.

“How so?”

She gestured at the store windows, through which I could see that Xavier had stuffed the dwarf into the backseat of the sedan and was now leaning against the side of the car. He had his sunglasses on and his head tilted back, enjoying the warm, early June sun.

“By catching the bad guy for me.” Bria paused. “Or, rather, knocking him unconscious.”

I grinned. “You know me and my methods.”

“That I do.”

She returned my grin before swiveling back around to the case. Bria picked up a necklace set with square diamonds that were the size of gumballs. She studied the flashing gems for a few seconds before putting the piece down on top of the glass.

“All these diamonds would have made for a nice haul if the guy had gotten away with them.” She shook her head, making her blond hair shimmer. “The moon must be full or something. This is the second robbery I’ve been called out to today, and it’s the fifth one this week.”

“Well, that’s not so unusual, is it?” I asked. “This is Ashland, after all. Somebody’s always up to something in this town—usually something evil, dastardly, and violent.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but it seems like more bad guys than usual have come out of the woodwork these past few days. And the really weird thing? There’s no one around to stop them.”

Bria looked over at the saleswomen. “Excuse me, ladies. Does the store employ any security guards?”

Red actually glanced away from Finn long enough to answer her question. “We used to have a giant. But Anton called in yesterday and said that he’d gotten a better offer. So the owner hasn’t had a chance to replace him yet.”

Bria nodded, and Red turned her attention back to Finn.

“I’ve gotten that same explanation twice now,” Bria said. “It’s like all the giants who work as bodyguards have suddenly decided to move on up to bigger and better things. This is the third robbery I’ve seen this week where nobody’s been guarding the goods, even with an obvious score to be had.”

I frowned. That was strange. Vampires, dwarves, elementals, humans—lots of folks hired themselves out as security or bodyguards to banks, businesses, and wealthy individuals. Sure, it was a dangerous gig, especially in this town, but the money was good, and most positions came with excellent medical and dental. Some folks even offered their employees 401(k)s and profit-sharing plans. Not to mention the bonus hazard pay you could collect if you thwarted a robbery or an assassination attempt.

But given their tall, strong physiques, giants were the top choice when it came to keeping something or someone safe, especially among the underworld bosses. Practically every crime lord in Ashland had at least half a dozen giants—if not more—on his or her payroll. For the bosses, hiring them was a way to keep the rest of their underlings in line and hold on to their turf. For the giants, it was usually easy money for mostly standing around and looking tough. Win-win all the way around—unless you happened to cross somebody with a cadre of giants at his disposal. In addition to providing protection, giants were also very, very good at enforcing one person’s unpleasant will on another—and beating you until you got the bloody message.

Bria shook her head. “Anyway, at least this case is cut-and-dried. All I need to do is get some witness statements from the saleswomen, and Xavier and I can take the perp over to the station—”

A soft, feminine laugh floated through the air, followed by a series of high-pitched giggles. Bria and I looked at each other, then over at Finn. Apparently, all had been forgiven, because the two saleswomen had practically draped themselves over him by this point. Red had her hand on one of his shoulders, while Blondie was cozied up on his other side, toying with his jacket sleeve. Finn’s head swiveled back and forth between them, as though he was watching an intense tennis match. It was a wonder his neck didn’t break from the speed.

“Good luck getting those statements,” I murmured.

Bria smiled, showing a hint of teeth. “Oh, luck has nothing to do with it, big sister.”

She strode over and planted herself in front of Finn and his adoring entourage.

“Bria!” he said. “I was just telling these two lovely ladies how brave they were when that terrible thug rushed into the store.”

“Of course you were.” Her voice was mild, although she raised her eyebrows at him.

Finn gave her a sheepish grin, but he immediately disentangled himself from the other two women and stepped forward. His sudden movement made the saleswomen teeter on their heels and almost crash into each other, but Finn didn’t care. He leaned down and murmured something in Bria’s ear that caused a fierce blush to bloom in her cheeks. Red and Blondie both frowned, but Bria just smiled at them. They all knew that she had Finn’s full and undivided attention now.

He finally quit whispering to her and straightened up, a teasing grin on his handsome face. Bria stared back at him, her blue eyes warm and soft.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she murmured. “Tonight.”

Finn’s grin widened.

Bria blushed a little more, then cleared her throat, stepped past him, and addressed the other two women, back in full detective mode. “Ladies, I need to get some statements from you about what happened . . .”

I smiled at their antics, even though they made my heart twinge with pain. Seeing Finn, Bria, and their obvious happiness reminded me of how much I missed Owen. Not for the first time, I thought about pulling out my cell phone and calling him. The only problem was that I didn’t know what to say. I love you. I miss you. I killed your ex because it had to be done. Not exactly sweet nothings.

Still, the urge to hear his voice was so strong that I went so far as to grab my phone out of my jeans pocket. My finger hovered over the button that would speed-dial Owen’s number, but after a moment, I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. I sighed. I’d never considered myself a coward before, but when it came to Owen, I was as yellow-bellied as the dress I’d ruined.

But my conflicted feelings didn’t change the fact that I needed to get back to the Pork Pit and help Sophia with the dinner rush. I’d just taken a step toward the front door when Finn blocked my path.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside,” I said. “To your car. So you can drive me back to the restaurant.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Nothing doing. No way. I told Sophia that you were taking the rest of the day off, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Besides, we are not leaving here until you get a new dress.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Finn turned to the rack closest to him and grabbed a long dress that shimmered with red sequins. “What do you think about this one? Yeah, this is much too orange of a red for you. With all that pale skin, you need a blue-red, like this one.”

He plucked another gown off the rack, held it out at arm’s length, and examined it with a critical eye.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “This would look divine with your complexion. And I think I saw some shoes earlier that would be absolutely smashing with this.”

I just groaned.

After another hour of trying on dresses at the Posh boutique, Finn and I headed back to the Pork Pit to grab some dinner. The attempted robbery might have broken up some of the tediousness of dress shopping, but I still wanted some comfort food from my own restaurant. So I dished us both up some burgers, chili-cheese fries, and triple-chocolate milkshakes.

Later that evening, Finn finally dropped me off at Fletcher’s house—my house now. Being a gentleman, he carried in the ridiculously expensive dress, shoes, and purse he’d picked out and insisted I buy. Then he headed out, saying that Bria was expecting him. Of course she was, given the heated promises he’d whispered to her in the boutique.

“Good luck with your seduction,” I sniped, following him out onto the porch.

Finn waggled his eyebrows at me. “Luck? Finnegan Lane doesn’t need luck, baby. Enough said.”

His excessive confidence made me laugh, although a bit of bitterness tinged my chuckles. “Of course you don’t.”

Finn hesitated, picking up on my sour mood. “You know, I could always cancel with Bria, if you wanted some company tonight—”

“I’m fine,” I said, cutting him off before I could see the pity in his eyes. “In fact, I’m plumb tuckered out from all that shopping. I plan to take a shower, get in bed, and curl up with a good book.”

Once again, he hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure . . .”

I gave his shoulder a little push. “I’m sure. Now, go. Have fun with Bria.”

Finn nodded, stepped off the porch, and got into his car. Cranking the engine, he waved at me before zooming down the driveway. I kept my arm up and my features fixed into a pleasant smile until he disappeared from sight. Then I let out a quiet sigh, and my fake, happy face melted like a scoop of rocky road on a hot summer day. I hadn’t lied to Finn. I was tired—of pretending that I was okay. That I didn’t miss Owen.

That my heart wasn’t a bloody, pulpy mass of broken bits, splintered pieces, and sharp edges.

But standing outside and brooding into the evening sun wasn’t going to help anything, so I shut and locked the front door, then went upstairs to my bedroom. I hung up the garment bag containing my new dress, stripped off my clothes, and took a long, hot shower to wash away the last lingering traces of the dwarf’s blood. When that was done, I pulled on a pair of short, loose cotton pajamas patterned with blackberries and crawled into bed.

I glanced at the nightstand and the copy of What’s the Worst That Could Happen? by Donald E. Westlake that I was reading for my latest literature class over at Ashland Community College. But I didn’t feel like reading tonight, so I snapped off the light and snuggled under the soft, thin sheets, even though it was still early in the evening.

I tried to sleep, but the flickers began almost as soon as I closed my eyes. More nights than not, I didn’t dream so much as I remembered old jobs, old dangers, and old enemies I’d faced . . .

The job had gone sideways.

It was supposed to be an easy hit. Fletcher Lane, my mentor and the assassin known as the Tin Man, had taken out drug lords like Peter Delov dozens of times before. Breach the perimeter, get close to the target, and twist the knife in until he was good and dead before slipping back into the shadows once more. Simple. Clean. Easy.

But it hadn’t worked out that way at all.

I’d helped Fletcher gather intel on Delov for weeks, and I supposed him bringing me along tonight was my reward for all of that hard work. Plus, now that I was fifteen and two years into my training with him, Fletcher had said that it was finally time for me to see exactly what being an assassin really meant—and all the bloody violence that went along with it.

As if I didn’t already know all about blood and violence from living on the streets—and watching the murders of my mother and my older sister.

But Fletcher had said that soon I’d be ready to start doing solo jobs and that these dry runs with him would help me prepare. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, though. On the few jobs I’d been on so far, all I’d done was stand in the shadows, watch him get close to the target, wait for him to deliver the killing blow, and then leave the scene of the crime with the old man. Not exactly the hands-on method I’d imagined.

But that had all changed tonight.

Fletcher had learned that Delov had sent his giant guards on down to his Miami mansion that afternoon, while his personal staff was at the airport, readying his private plane. Delov was leaving early in the morning to meet with his drug suppliers down in the Keys, and he was the sort who’d want everything picture-perfect for his trip.

Without the usual guards patrolling, it had been child’s play for us to climb over the stone wall that ringed the estate, creep through the woods that surrounded the mansion, and then slip inside the structure. We hadn’t seen a soul, not even Peaches, Delov’s pet Pomeranian. Clear sailing all the way up to the third floor, where his bedroom was.

Only the drug lord hadn’t been sound asleep like he was supposed to have been, given that it was one in the morning. Fletcher and I stood in the shadows that blackened Delov’s bedroom, staring at the enormous, empty bed with its rumpled silk sheets.

“Where is he?” I whispered. “We’ve been watching him for two weeks now. He’s always in bed by this time.”

Fletcher shrugged, but I could see the tension in the tight muscles of his neck and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But we have to find him and do this tonight. We won’t be able to get this close to him again this easily.”

Fletcher crept over and put his hand down in the center of the bed. “The mattress is still warm, which means that he’s probably on this floor somewhere. Where do you think he went, Gin?”

The old man was always giving me little pop quizzes like this, always making me put myself in my target’s shoes, always drilling into my head that it was better to think ahead, to plan, to act rather than to react, no matter what situation I was in.

I thought about all the things the old man had taught me and everything I’d learned about Delov while we’d been watching him. “The most common places for people to go in their own house late at night are the kitchen and the bathroom. So either he got up because he was hungry or he needed to take a leak. I’d vote for the kitchen, given his enormous appetite. He’s always munching on something in all the surveillance photos I’ve taken.”

Fletcher nodded, agreeing with me. “Okay. Now, stay close to me while we go see if you’re right.”

Together, we tiptoed over to the bedroom door and slipped out into the hallway. The third floor of the mansion was devoted to Delov’s personal quarters, and each room was more opulently furnished than the one before it, all with slightly oversize chairs and tables, the better to accommodate the giant’s tall frame. One by one, we peered into the rooms we passed, but they were all as empty as his bed had been.

Finally, we reached the last room on the floor—the kitchen. The double doors were thrown open, and light spilled out into the hallway. A soft snick sounded, like someone opening a refrigerator door, followed by the faint rattle-rattle of dishes. Fletcher grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.

Fletcher and I eased up on either side of the doorway, still keeping to the shadows as much as possible, and peered inside. The kitchen was just as large and spacious as the other rooms and featured two of everything, including twin refrigerators situated side by side along the left wall. The doors on both were wide open, and Peter Delov stood in between them, perusing all the items inside.

Delov was big, even for a giant, topping out at almost eight feet. His back was to us, but I knew from my surveillance that he had tan skin, brown eyes, bushy eyebrows, and dark brown hair that was always slicked back over his high forehead. Delov considered himself to be a handsome man, and given his massive drug empire, he treated himself to the very best of everything, from clothes to cars to women.

But his main passion was gourmet food, and both fridges were stocked with bottles of pricey champagne, tubs of expensive caviar, and wheels of exotic cheeses. I wrinkled my nose. Very smelly cheeses. Several packs of crackers were crowded onto the counter to the right, along with a tray of cold cuts and another one piled high with an elegant arrangement of chocolates, strawberries, and kiwi slices. Looked like Delov had developed a hankering for a late-night snack. I hoped he was enjoying it, because it would be the last meal he ever ate.

Maybe it was wrong, but I didn’t feel bad about plotting Delov’s death. Not bad at all. I knew exactly what kind of scum he was. The giant sold drugs, which was sleazy enough, but he specialized in getting kids hooked on the stuff. He had a whole network of dealers whose sole job was to push his product to the local middle and high schools. A few weeks ago, a thirteen-year-old girl had died after getting a bad batch of Delov’s drugs, and her nine-year-old sister had also gotten sick and almost perished. The girls’ parents had somehow reached out to Fletcher, and now here we were, about to get payback for the dead girl, her sick sister, and her grieving parents—permanently.

Fletcher gave me a hand signal. I nodded, understanding that I was to hold my position in the hallway and watch our backs, just in case there was anyone in the mansion who wasn’t supposed to be there. Fletcher palmed one of the silverstone knives he carried for jobs like these, slid into the kitchen, and crept closer to Delov.

I was so busy studying Fletcher that the faint click-click-click of toenails on the hardwood floor behind me didn’t register for a few precious seconds. When it finally did, I froze for a moment, then slowly turned my head to the side and looked down.

A fat, fluffy Pomeranian with golden fur sniffed my left boot like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

I bit back a curse. We hadn’t seen Peaches while we’d been skulking through the mansion, and I’d thought he must have curled up on another floor and gone to sleep for the night. I liked dogs, really I did, but they’d screwed up more than a few jobs Fletcher had taken me on. Still, I couldn’t kill the curious fluffball. Peaches was innocent, even if his owner wasn’t. No pets, no kids—ever. That was the code Fletcher had taught me and I was determined to live by it.

I eased down to my knees and held out my hand, hoping that would distract the dog long enough for Fletcher to kill Delov. He was only about fifteen feet away from the giant now and closing fast. Ten more seconds, and he’d be in range. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .

Peaches sniffed my fingers and gave them a tentative lick. And then he started barking—loud, yippy, there’s-someone-new-new-new-in-the-house barks.

Oh, no.

Delov immediately whirled around at the sounds. Clutching the butcher’s knife he’d been slicing cheese and cold cuts with, he slashed out at Fletcher with it. Fletcher managed to jump out of the way, but Delov came at him with the knife again. Back and forth, the two men fought through the kitchen, knocking over dishes, silverware, and plates of food. I winced at all the noise they made. Good thing the guards were away for the night, or we would have been well and truly screwed. Beside me, Peaches kept barking and barking, but he seemed smart enough to know he would get stepped on and squished if he darted into the kitchen right now.

I got to my feet, ready to charge in and help Fletcher, but there was nothing I could do. Since there was only one entrance to the kitchen, Delov would see me coming, so I couldn’t even distract the giant by sneaking up on him from behind.

And then the worst thing of all happened. Delov’s fist actually connected with Fletcher’s chest.

Fletcher cursed and stumbled back. Delov surged forward, looking to press his advantage, but the old man grabbed a copper pot from a rack above his head and smashed it into Delov’s face. The giant growled in pain. He staggered and slipped on some of the broken dishes that littered the floor, going down on one knee.

But instead of regaining his feet, Delov fumbled with one of the cabinet doors below the sink, yanked it open, and reached inside. A second later, the glint of a gun appeared in his hand.

“Run!” Fletcher yelled at me. “Run!”

The old man had taught me to obey his orders no matter what when we were out on a job, so he didn’t have to tell me twice. I turned and ran, with him right behind me.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Bullets chased us down the hallway, and the acrid stench of gunpowder burned through the air, overpowering the moldy cheeses. Fletcher and I darted into a sitting room, raced through it and out into another hallway on the far side. We zigzagged through the third floor of the mansion, never taking the obvious, straight route but moving toward our escape point all the while.

Delov must have stopped to reload or maybe grab another gun from somewhere, because we quickly outran him, and I didn’t hear any sounds coming from behind us. But just before we got to the balcony and the stairs that would serve as our exit, Fletcher put a hand on my shoulder.

“Stop, Gin,” he mumbled behind me. “Or at least slow down.”

Slow down? We couldn’t afford to slow down, not while we were still in the mansion. Delov having a gun was bad enough, but if the giant caught us, he could always beat us to death with his fists. They were almost as big as the wheels of cheese he’d been cutting into.

Still, it was an order from Fletcher, so I stopped and turned around—and that’s when I realized he was bleeding. An ugly bullet hole had ruined his blue work shirt, close to where his left lung would be.

I gasped. “You’re hurt!”

Fletcher tried to smile, but his green eyes crinkled with pain. “Looks that way.”

For the first time, I heard the hoarse, raspy wheeze in his voice. It sounded like the bullet had done something to his lung, maybe even punctured or collapsed it, which meant I needed to get him to Jo-Jo—right now.

“Come on,” I whispered, putting my arm under his shoulder and preparing myself to drag him the rest of the way out of the house, across the grounds, and into the woods. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Fletcher shook his head. “No. Not before the job’s done. We have to get Delov tonight. This is our best chance—our only chance. All of his guards are gone. It’s just him and us. We have to end him now.”

“But you’re hurt,” I pointed out. “And he has a gun. Maybe more than one by now. You always told me that it was okay to walk away from a botched job. And we both know that I messed this one up.”

Fletcher shook his head again. “A dog barked. It happens, Gin, even to the best of us.”

He bent over and started coughing. He put his hand to his mouth, but I still saw the blood trickle out between his fingers.

“Here, at least sit down,” I said, helping him over to a nearby chair. “Rest for a few seconds, and then we’ll get out of here.”

“No,” Fletcher said, his mouth settling into a thin, stubborn line. “I made a promise to the Kilroy family, and I intend to keep it. Besides, I’ll be easy pickings for Delov now. We both know how fond he is of taking care of his dirty work himself.”

In addition to his love of gourmet food, Delov also fancied himself something of a hunter, and more than one poor animal’s head decorated the walls of his mansion. He even had a poaching trip planned for his time in the Keys. So I had no doubt that Delov would relish the challenge of tracking us down.

Fletcher couldn’t kill the giant. Not now, not with that injury.

But I could.

“Give me your knife,” I whispered.

He stared at me in surprise. “You don’t have to do this, Gin. I can finish it. I can—”

Another coughing fit cut off his words, and more blood dribbled down the sides of his fingers, even though he tried to hide it from me.

Fletcher looked at me, his green eyes searching mine. “Can you do it, Gin? Are you ready for this?”

I stared at the knife still clutched in his hand. The silverstone gleamed like a sharp star in the semidarkness. I’d killed people before. Buried men in the falling stones of my childhood home. Stabbed a giant to death inside the Pork Pit. And I’d watched Fletcher kill a dozen more.

But this—this was different. Before, I’d lashed out at the others in the heat of the moment. Because they’d threatened me, hurt me, and I’d just been defending myself. But tonight I’d come here knowing that Delov would die. I just hadn’t thought that I’d be the one to do it.

It was one thing to watch—it was another to twist the knife in coldly myself.

Maybe—maybe I wasn’t as ready to be an assassin as I thought I was.

But there was nothing to be done about that paralyzing thought. No changing it, no fixing it, no time to think about it. Because it was him or us now, and I’d pick us every single time, no matter what it cost me in the end.

I hesitated a moment longer, then took the weapon from Fletcher. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” he whispered back.

“Come on,” I said, helping him to his feet. “I’ll help you find someplace to hide. Then I’ll go look for Delov.”

Fletcher nodded, in too much pain to do anything else. I put my arm under his shoulder again and led him deeper into the house, back toward Delov, ready to do what needed to be done . . .

My eyes fluttered open, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was. That I was safe in bed in Fletcher’s house and not being stalked by a giant with a gun and a grudge. I let out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart and banish the rest of the memories. Slowly, far too slowly, they finally faded away.

I didn’t know what had triggered this specific memory of Fletcher and Delov. It certainly wasn’t the worst one I had. In fact, it was pretty mild compared with some of the other things I’d seen, done, and been through over the years. But something about that night felt particularly important—and ominous, almost like it was a warning of things to come.

I wasn’t an Air elemental, so I never got any glimpses of the future, not like Jo-Jo did. But I couldn’t help but think that something was stirring all the same. Something dark, something dangerous, something that might finally be the death of me.

But then again, this was just a dream, just one of many terrible memories I’d collected over the years, and no doubt more were on the way.

“Paranoid much, Gin?” I said.

Of course, no one answered back. The house was empty. All the whispers of the stones told me so, but for once, the soft, familiar sounds didn’t soothe me. I lay there and closed my eyes, but it was a long, long time before I was able to sleep once more.