Deadly Sting

8

Eva. Finn. Phillip. Roslyn. Owen. The realization hit all of them at about the same time. One second, they were trying not to look at the body like everyone else. The next, they couldn’t stop staring at it, mouths open, eyes wide, features tight with shock and sorrow.

Roslyn immediately put her arms around Eva and turned the younger woman away from the horrible sight. Eva’s shoulders shook, and a loud sob broke free from her lips before she could swallow it. Phillip turned away too, his lips curled in anger and disgust.

Owen kept staring at the body, his face blank and completely closed off. His eyes were empty, his gaze dull and far away, as if he was so shocked, so stunned, that he wasn’t even really seeing what was in front of him. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. If he was absolutely horrified or just relieved that I was gone. I hoped—I hoped—that he at least cared, that he at least felt something, but I just couldn’t tell what it might be, one way or the other.

And then there was Finn.

He had an entirely different reaction. Instead of shying away from the body, he moved even closer to it, stepping in front of Owen. Finn’s green eyes narrowed, and he slowly, carefully, quietly examined the body from head to toe. His gaze lingered on Jillian’s shoes, which peeked out from beneath the edge of her skirt, before going up to her hands. Finn leaned down, staring at one of Jillian’s palms as though it held all the secrets of the universe.

I knew exactly what he was looking for: my spider rune scar.

When I was younger, the scars had been red, raw, and puckered, but over the years, they had slowly smoothed out and faded to a pale silver, given that they were really silverstone that had been melted into my palms. Everyone in the underworld might think that I was the Spider. They might recognize my rune and the fact that I took my assassin name from it, but none of them knew that the symbol was actually branded into my palms. Only my closest friends and family knew that story, and only they had ever seen the scars. Oh, I didn’t try to hide the marks, not even when I was working at the Pork Pit, but unless you knew they were there, you wouldn’t notice them. Besides, who ever bothered to look at the palms of someone else’s hands?

After a moment, Finn’s shoulders sagged, his face relaxed, and his jaw unclenched. He knew that it wasn’t me lying there—that it was Jillian instead. I waited for my foster brother to turn and whisper the news to the others, but he didn’t.

“See something you like?” Dixon called out, noticing Finn’s interest in Jillian. “You one of those freaks who likes to get down and dirty with bodies?”

Finn slowly straightened up and looked at the giant. “Hardly,” he drawled. “Although it’s interesting that was the first thing you thought about me doing. Maybe that says something about your sexual preferences. Why, I bet that you’re the one who likes to get his freak on with corpses. Who knows what you did with her before you so gallantly carried her in here?”

Dixon charged forward, his hand already dropping to the gun holstered on his belt. At the last second, Clementine held out her hand, stopping him. He looked at her, a clear plea in his eyes, but she slowly shook her head. It took him a moment, but Dixon swallowed his anger. She might be his aunt, but he didn’t want to cross her.

Clementine gestured for one of her men to come over to her and whispered something in his ear. Dixon glared at Finn and slowly drew his finger across his throat in threat.

Finn, being Finn, puckered his lips and blew the giant a big, fat, sloppy kiss.

More anger stained Dixon’s cheeks, breaking through his orange fake bake, but he didn’t draw his gun. Instead, he just stared at Finn with murder in his eyes. After a few seconds, Clementine finished her conversation with the other giant and crooked her finger at her nephew. Dixon stepped closer to her. I let out a breath. If Finn didn’t play nice, he was going to get himself shot before I could rescue him and the others.

Too bad I had no idea how I was going to do that.

I couldn’t just leap over the balcony and start taking on giants. Not with only two knives. There were too many of them and too much of a chance of people getting hurt in the confusion and crossfire. Plus, I had no doubt that Clementine would have no qualms about killing as many of the hostages as it took in order to take me out.

I was mildly surprised that she hadn’t let Dixon go ahead and shoot Finn for mouthing off, but at this point, she probably wanted to keep everyone calm for as long as possible. As long as folks thought they had a chance of going free, they’d behave like good little boys and girls and play by her rules.

Oh, I could see some of the underworld figures staring at the giants, trying to figure out how to overpower them. Beauregard Benson coldly eyed a giant’s throat like he wanted to rip it open with his bare hands. But nobody wanted to be the first—or only—person to make a move against the guards. Even though they all knew that everyone here was most likely marked for death.

If this had just been a simple sting, Clementine and her crew would have all been wearing masks, not walking around with their faces exposed for everyone to see. There were a lot of heavy hitters at the gala, a lot of folks with a lot of money and power who wouldn’t take too kindly to being robbed. The sort of folks who would expend a lot of time, energy, effort, and resources tracking down every single one of the robbers and horrifically executing them.

Clementine was smart and sly, which meant that she knew the score as well as I did. But she’d boldly announced herself and her intentions to all of the hostages. There were only a couple of reasons I could think of for her to do that.

The first, and most obvious, was that she wasn’t planning on leaving any survivors around to identify her after the fact. A bloody option but effective in the end.

The second was that she really thought that she and her squad of giants could handle any repercussions or reprisals from tonight. That she could take control of the underworld. That her little uprising would actually take. A pie-in-the-sky hope, at best.

And the third was that she’d already made arrangements to leave Ashland far, far behind and that, despite her talk of running the town, she’d already set herself up somewhere she thought no one would ever find her. But that was still a big risk to take. Nobody could hold a grudge like the folks in Ashland—nobody. The Hatfields and McCoys had nothing on us.

Still, it didn’t much matter what Clementine Barker had planned—because I was going to make sure that she didn’t live through the night.

“Now,” Clementine said, after everyone had taken a good, long look at my supposed corpse and the whispers had died down once more, “I suggest that everyone sit down and start taking off their valuables. The sooner we rob you, the sooner we can leave.”

She let out another loud howl of laughter, one that had all the hostages hurrying to plant themselves on the marble floor just as quickly as they could.

I stayed in my position on the balcony and watched as the three giants with the trash bags moved through the crowd, collecting everyone’s rings, watches, necklaces, and cell phones. Once everything was gathered up, the giants handed the bags off to Opal, then rejoined the other guards ringing the hostages. Clementine stepped forward once more, a bright smile on her face.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she said in that same deceptively friendly voice. “And don’t worry. We’ll keep the jewels, but y’all can have your cell phones back after we’re done. We wouldn’t want to put y’all out any more than we already have by making you get new phones.”

Clementine chuckled, turned, and murmured something to Opal. The younger giant put the trash bags down on the floor and started sorting through all of the items inside. Opal carefully set all of the jewelry and watches off to one side while tossing the cell phones into a haphazard pile. Meanwhile, several other giants started moving through the rotunda, some roughly plucking the paintings off the walls while the others carefully took them out of their frames, rolled them up, and slipped them into long, slender tubes. More than a dozen additional giants holstered their guns and trooped out of the rotunda, probably to start looting the other rooms. Plenty of guards remained behind to watch the hostages.

“And now I’m afraid that I have to leave y’all for a little while,” Clementine said. “Things to do and all that. But don’t you worry. My girl, Opal, and the rest of my boys will take good care of y’all while I’m gone.”

She laughed yet again, and the dark sound made more than a few folks shiver.

“Actually, I need one of you to come with me,” Clementine continued. “And help me with a very special art project.”

I frowned. Special project? What was she talking about? As far as I knew, all of Mab’s art was in here, making it the most valuable room in the whole museum. Sure, there were plenty of other pricey paintings and sculptures throughout Briartop, but most of them were just wired to the walls or housed under glass. Nothing a giant’s strength and a few well-placed punches couldn’t take care of. Since I hadn’t heard any alarms blaring, Clementine and her crew must have already taken care of the real guards and the security system; they wouldn’t be worried about clipping wires or smashing through any glass case they wanted. So what else could they be after? What could they possibly need help with?

The partygoers looked around, wondering what she was talking about. Suspicion filled their faces as they eyed one another. They were thinking the same thing I was—that someone here was working with Clementine and her crew.

“You see, there’s a particular bit of metal that I need help dealing with,” Clementine said. “And there’s someone here with just the right kind of magic to help me and my boys handle it.”

As soon as she said the word metal, my heart clenched in my chest. I knew exactly what kind of magic she was talking about—and exactly who had it.

“Owen Grayson,” Clementine called out in a booming voice. “Come on down.”