Widow's Web

34

I stayed outside for a long time—long enough for Jo-Jo to heal Owen and for him and Eva to go on their way.

The porch light snapped on, and my lover stepped outside, followed by Eva and Sophia. The Goth dwarf rounded the house, and I heard her convertible start up a minute later. She must have been taking them home.

Sure enough, Sophia drove her convertible around to the front of the house. Eva opened one of the passenger doors and slid into the backseat. Owen grabbed hold of the front passenger door. He started to open it and get inside but paused, his eyes scanning the yard. He couldn’t see me in the shadows, and my heart rose in hopes that he might come looking for me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he got into the car and shut the door. Sophia steered the vehicle down the driveway, and her red taillights—shaped like little skulls—disappeared into the darkness.

When I was sure they were gone, I walked over, trudged up the porch steps, and shuffled inside. I plodded back to the salon, where Jo-Jo and Finn were talking in low voices. The two of them looked at me. I knew they could see the raw emotion in my face, but for once I was too tired to hide my feelings.

Everything about tonight had simply hurt.

I settled myself in one of the cherry red salon chairs. Finn gave me a sympathetic glance, murmured something about calling to check in with Bria, and left.

“Finn told me what happened,” Jo-Jo said, reaching for her Air magic. “What you did to Salina.”

“I killed her, Jo-Jo. She was down for the count, but I went ahead and killed her anyway—even though Owen asked me not to.”

In a flat, dull voice, I told the dwarf everything, starting with Owen leaving me to go confront Salina to Finn figuring out her plan to my putting a stop to it and her—for good. All the while, the dwarf worked her magic on me. The feel of the tiny needles pricking at all my cuts, lumps, scratches, and bruises and making them whole again didn’t bother me tonight.

It was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

Finally, the dwarf finished healing me and dropped her hand. The magic faded from her eyes, and she looked at me once more.

“It was an awful choice you had to make, darling. But Owen wouldn’t have wanted Eva to be a killer. Not like that.”

“No, he wouldn’t have, and I was trying to protect Eva from that.” I let out a breath. “But part of me killed Salina because I wanted to, Jo-Jo. Because she was a threat to me and Owen, and not just physically. I didn’t want to lose him to her, but it looks like that’s what’s happening anyway.”

She nodded. “Maybe that’s what it feels like now, but we both know Fletcher trained you better than that, Gin. He might have raised you to be an assassin, but he taught you to respect his code, your code. You don’t kill for the pleasure of it—you do what you have to in order to survive. Nothing more, nothing less. Like it or not, sometimes people just get broken, and nothing and nobody will make them whole again. Some of them even enjoy what they become. If you hadn’t killed Salina tonight, how long do you think it would have been before she made another run at you? Or Eva? Or even Owen?”

Jo-Jo was right, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It didn’t heal this rift between me and Owen.

“She would have killed one of you sooner or later,” Jo-Jo continued. “And then how would Owen feel? He’s already full of guilt that he didn’t realize what she was doing to Eva and that he believed her lies about Phillip. If you’d let Salina live, and she’d hurt any one of you, Owen would have felt even guiltier that he didn’t kill her when he had the chance. It would have eaten him up inside until there was nothing left.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know there was anything left of me and Owen.

Jo-Jo’s eyes clouded over, as though she was peering into the future. “Don’t worry, darling. It may take some time, but it everything will work out all right in the end. You’ll see.”

She patted my hand and started moving around the salon, straightening up. I sat in the chair and thought about her words.

But try as I might, I couldn’t convince myself that things would ever be the same again.

I spent the night at Jo-Jo’s. The next morning, I was sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch, brooding into the sunlight, when Bria’s car pulled into the driveway. Xavier was with her, and he waved at me from the passenger’s seat. I waved back.

Bria got out of the car, walked to the porch, and sat down in the rocking chair next to me. For a long time, the only sound was the faint creak-creak-creaks of the wood. Finally, my sister spoke.

“I thought you’d want to know that there are fifteen folks dead, including Salina and the giants you killed, and almost two dozen with injuries,” she said.

I nodded. I’d expected the damage to be something like that, given how much water had soaked the area and how much glee Salina had taken in using her magic.

“Still, it could have been worse, a whole lot worse, all things considered,” Bria said. “She would have killed everyone with her magic if you hadn’t stepped in. The folks who survived owe you their lives, Gin.”

I tried to smile at her, but it didn’t come off very well. “Yeah, well, maybe the mayor will finally break down and give me that medal I’ve always wanted.”

My sister reached over and squeezed my hand, which was cold despite the growing warmth of the day. “Maybe. But I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I know it would have been better for you if Salina had killed everyone, especially Jonah McAllister. I know it wasn’t easy for you to save all the people who’ve been trying to murder you these past few months.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age, wanting to protect my enemies instead of executing them like I should have. Like they would have done to me.”

Bria’s eyes met mine. “Not too soft. You killed Salina in the end.”

I let out a breath. “No, not too soft.”

“What does Owen think about that?”

“Nothing good.”

“I saw what happened, what you did for Eva. You killed Salina so she wouldn’t have to, so Owen wouldn’t have to. He’ll come to see that in time.” She echoed what Jo-Jo had said to me last night.

I shrugged. I wished I shared her confidence, but I didn’t—I just didn’t. I’d seen the way Owen had looked at me after I’d slit Salina’s throat. How angry and hurt he’d been by my actions. I didn’t know if he could recover from that. I didn’t know if I could either.

“Bria!” Xavier called out, waving his hand at my sister through his open car window. “We have to go!”

Bria waved back, telling him that she’d be there in a minute. “Duty calls,” she said, and got to her feet.

“I made quite the mess for you to clean up, didn’t I? You’ll be dealing with the aftermath of this for weeks.”

She shrugged. “What are sisters for? Besides, you just helped me close two other homicides—Katarina and Antonio. Plus, the families of the men Salina married and murdered can finally get some closure, too. All in all, not a bad night’s work for the Spider.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my assassin name in a happy tone,” I said.

Bria looked at me, her face somber. “Do you remember what you said to me the night you saved Elliot Slater from beating me to death in my own house?”

“Something like there were worse things in the world than me.”

She nodded. “I think we saw one of those things last night. There are worse things than assassins in the world, Gin. A hell of a lot worse things. Some of them are even disguised as love.”

She leaned down and hugged me, then headed back over to her car, where Xavier was waiting. A minute later, they were gone, off to deal with the rest of the fallout.

The attempted massacre of Ashland’s underworld leaders dominated the news for the next few days. Story after story filled the newspapers and airwaves about Salina Dubois and her twisted plan to get revenge for her father’s murder.

When those stories became old news, the survivors told their harrowing tales for the local media, Jonah McAllister chief among them. Even though he’d been working with Salina, had helped her arrange her deadly dinner, he still painted himself as just another victim. The smarmy lawyer gave an interview to anyone who came calling until you couldn’t turn on the TV or open the newspaper without seeing his smooth face. Smug bastard. He was worse than a cockroach, always finding a way to survive no matter whose boot heel he was being crushed under.

But slowly, life got back to normal—except for the fact that I didn’t hear a word from Owen.

He didn’t call or come by to see me, and I didn’t try to contact him. I knew he needed some time, some space, and I was determined to give it to him, no matter how much I just wanted to hold him in my arms and pretend like the last few days had never happened. Like I’d never heard of Salina Dubois or discovered just how much she’d meant to my lover.

Eva called me every day, but she didn’t have much to say either. She was trying to deal with Salina’s death and her part in it just like I was.

Finally, a week after I killed Salina, Owen dropped by the Pork Pit. My lover stepped into the restaurant, making the bell over the front door chime. It was five minutes before closing time, and the restaurant was deserted except for me and Sophia. The dwarf jerked her thumb over her shoulder at him.

“Privacy,” she rasped.

“Thanks, Sophia,” I murmured. “I’ll finish locking up. See you tomorrow.”

The dwarf gave me a hopeful smile, then pushed through the double doors and went into the back of the restaurant.

Owen waited until she left before squaring his shoulders and walking over to the counter. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

I smiled at him, trying to tell him that I understood, trying to tell him that I wanted to move forward. But he didn’t return my smile, and his eyes were dark and troubled in his rugged face. Not a trace remained of the giants’ attacks on him or the injuries he’d gotten when Salina had used her magic to throw him against the Ice bar. No, Owen looked just fine on the outside. Inside, though, I knew it was a different story—for both of us.

“I’d like to talk, if that’s okay with you,” he said.

I nodded. I locked the door and turned the sign there over to Closed. We moved to a booth out of sight of the storefront windows. The honk and hum of the cars sounded on the street outside, but we sat in silence.

Finally, Owen drew in a breath. “I’m sorry about how I acted the other night. When you . . . killed Salina . . . it affected me more than I thought it would.”

“I know, Owen. And I’m sorry about that. Sorrier than you will ever know.”

I didn’t apologize for killing her. I didn’t say that it simply had to be done, that Salina wouldn’t have ever stopped, that I’d probably saved Owen’s life—all our lives—by cutting the water elemental’s throat. He knew all that as well as I did. And if he didn’t, well, then we had an even bigger problem than I’d imagined.

“One of the things that bothers me the most is that you had Finn pull a gun on me,” Owen said, his violet eyes harsh and accusing. “You let him hold me at gunpoint while you killed Salina.”

I wasn’t surprised he was upset by that, by how I’d had Finn keep him out of the fight. Not only had I killed Salina, but I’d also taken away Owen’s choice in how things would go down. I would have been just as angry if our positions had been reversed.

“And what would you have done if I hadn’t? You would have tried to stop me, Owen. Hell, you told me to stop—more than once. I was trying to protect you, trying to keep you safe.”

Trying to spare you from having to kill someone you once loved.

I didn’t say the words, but they hung in the air between us, weighing everything down, weighing us down, with their many ugly implications.

Owen shook his head. “No, you just didn’t trust me enough to do what needed to be done where Salina was concerned. You didn’t trust me at all, Gin. Not with her. When we went to Blue Marsh, and you ran into Donovan again, I trusted you to make the right choice. I trusted in your love for me. I trusted you not to hurt me. I expected the same courtesies in return, but you didn’t give them to me with Salina.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I couldn’t, because his words were too true. I hadn’t trusted him with Salina because I hadn’t wanted to get my heart broken when he chose her over me. When you cared about someone, you gave them the power to hurt you, and I’d feared that Owen would throw away my concern just like Donovan had once done. Deep down, I knew it was irrational, that Owen was nothing like Donovan, but I’d still felt that paralyzing fear all the same.

“But I did trust you,” I replied. “Did I have doubts? Sure. Was I worried that Salina was coming between us? Absolutely. But I handled all that as best I could. Even when you went to see her alone, I came after you—and that’s when I heard you tell Salina that she could leave Ashland. That wasn’t what we agreed on. Not at all. You didn’t tell me what you were really going to say to her, so I’d say that you didn’t trust me either.”

To that, he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, because my words were as true as his had been a moment ago. For once, I let my emotions show. Let him see my clenched jaw, the tightness in my face, the cold, harsh accusations in my eyes. I let him see my anger and my hurt and my disappointment—in him.

“I’ll admit that I was jealous of her,” I finally said in a soft voice. “She was everything that I’m not, and she was a part of your past that you couldn’t seem to let go of. That maybe you didn’t want to let go of.”

Owen sighed. “Salina and I were finished the moment she first hurt Eva, even if I didn’t realize it back then. But as soon as she came back to Ashland, I should have made it crystal clear to her that we were long over—and to you too. I thought I did that day at the Pork Pit. But that doesn’t change the fact that you killed her, Gin. Right in front of me. I asked you not to, and you killed her anyway.”

“I didn’t kill her for you. So I could have you or keep you.”

No, I killed Salina for Eva, for Kincaid, for Cooper—and for myself too and everything she represented to me. What I could have become if not for Fletcher. Maybe what I was anyway.

Owen’s face tightened. “I know that. Over these past few months, I’ve watched you do what you thought needed to be done, no matter how dangerous it was. Even when other people told you not to do something or tried to get you to stop, you went ahead and did what you thought was right anyway.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

He shook his head. “I can’t say that there is. Not after I’ve seen how you’ve helped people. But I never thought you would tune me out the way you sometimes do Bria, Jo-Jo, and even Finn. I never thought I would ask you for something—something important—and you would just ignore me.”

I could have protested. I could have told him that he was wrong. That I listened to my family and friends, that I didn’t just tune them out, but he was partially right. Because in the end, someone had to make the hard decisions, had to do the dirty work, had to be the bad guy, and, like it or not, it seemed that quite often that someone was me.

I thought about telling him what I’d promised Eva, about how I’d promised his baby sister that I would protect Owen no matter what—even from himself, if it came down to that. But I kept my mouth shut. Owen had to accept what I’d done on his own and not just because I wanted him to. He had to forgive me on his own terms, in his own way, and not because I gave him an excuse to.

We didn’t speak for several minutes. Outside, folks went about their day, talking on their phones, getting into their cars, driving home, but inside the restaurant, it was like Owen and I were frozen in place, stuck in this one awful moment, and not sure where we went from here. I could almost see our future swinging back and forth like a clock pendulum.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. Together, apart. Together, apart.

“So where does all of this leave us?” I finally asked.

Silence. Then—

“I need . . . I need some time, Gin. To think about things. You. Me. Us.”

Those were the words I’d been dreading hearing, and they caused my heart to crack, splinter, and disintegrate into black dust, leaving a hollow, cavernous space in my chest, an ache that just pulsed and pulsed and pulsed with pain.

Owen hesitated. “And it’s not just about Salina. It’s about me too. All these years, I believed her lies, and I hurt Eva, Phillip, and Cooper because of it—and you too. Because I believed in Salina when I shouldn’t have. I feel like such a fucking fool. I said before that you didn’t trust me. Maybe you were right not to, because I’ve clearly been wrong about this most basic thing. I just—I just don’t know anymore. What to do, what to say, what to feel about any of this.”

Bitterness colored his voice, and the guilt he was feeling made him grind his teeth together. His mouth twisted with disgust—at himself.

I wanted to reach out to him, wanted to put my hand on top of his and tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That Salina had fooled a lot of people.

But I didn’t.

I knew that I had to give Owen some space. I had to give him some time to come to terms with what had happened, work through everything, and settle it for himself. He had to come back to me on his own, he had to find his way back to me on his own. Otherwise, we’d never truly recover, and we’d only be going through the motions, pretending to love each other, and it would eventually eat away at and undermine everything we had together. I’d rather have lost Owen completely than have had him by my side when I knew he didn’t really want to be there.

And the truth was that I needed some time too—time to think about Salina, what she’d meant to Owen, and how I felt about all that. I needed some time to convince myself that I wasn’t like Salina, that Mab hadn’t ruined me the way she had the water elemental, that she hadn’t twisted me into something sad, dangerous, and grotesque.

That I wasn’t a threat to the people I loved.

Owen slid out of the booth and got to his feet. I did the same. He started to go, but I caught his hand in mine. He turned to meet my gaze.

“I understand,” I said, “and you take as much time as you need. But know this, Owen. I love you. Now, today, tomorrow. That won’t ever change, no matter what happens between us.”

I moved closer, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed him.

For a moment, he gathered me up in his arms and kissed me back—kissed me back with all the passion, all the concern, all the love I felt for him.

Then he broke off the kiss and stepped away. I curled my hands into fists so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him. He’d asked for space, and I was going to give it to him.

No matter how much it fucking hurt.

“Take care of yourself, Gin.” Owen hesitated. “I’ll be seeing you.”

I forced myself to smile. “Yeah. We’ll see each other again real soon.”

Owen nodded, then turned and walked out of the restaurant. The bell over the door chimed as he stepped outside, ringing like a dirge for the dead, and the end of our relationship.

Or was it? Was this the end? Could we get past this? I didn’t know. I hoped so. Oh, how I hoped so. But my hope was as useless as tears would have been. So I stood there in the shadows staring out the storefront windows for a long time, the dust of my heart quivering with sadness and a chill creeping into my bones, despite the warm spring sunshine outside.