Widow's Web (Elemental Assassin) (30 page)

At some point, Salina must have gotten bored with making me bob up and down like a Halloween apple, because the tentacles wrapped me around a final time—and then dragged me down to the bottom of the creek. The water wasn’t that deep, maybe eight feet, but there was more than enough for Salina to kill me with.

Mud and rocks ground into my back as I blinked, staring up through the creek. The water was pure, sweet, and clear this high up in the mountains, and I could make out Salina’s wavy figure standing above me on the bank. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought she was smiling.

But the worst part was that I could—I could
see
her through the water. Standing beside the tub watching me drown—smiling while I was drowning.

Eva’s words whispered in my mind. I remembered what she had said about how Salina had watched her drown—and the pleasure the elemental had taken in it. Now, all these years later, Salina was doing the same thing to me.

Not if I could help it.

There was no use struggling against the tentacles, not now, when Salina had moved in for the kill, so I let my body go loose and slack against the water that surrounded me like a wet tomb, like I was already halfway to drowned.
Not much of a stretch. I had maybe two minutes’ worth of oxygen left before I blacked out. After that, the end would be quick.

My Stone magic was useless in this situation, so I focused on my Ice power, gathering and gathering it around me. It was the only chance I had left—and I didn’t even know if it would work. If I had enough power to do what needed to be done in order to survive.

Ten seconds passed . . . twenty . . . thirty . . . My lungs burned a little more with every passing second, the need for air so great I wanted to scream from it, but I forced myself to be calm, to wait to bring all of the Ice magic I had to bear, along with what I had stored in my spider rune ring. I thought about reaching for the Ice power that was in my knives as well, but my concentration was a little shaky, and I didn’t know if I could tap into the magic of all six items at once. So I decided to focus on combining my magic with the ring’s and releasing all of that power outward at once. I’d only get one shot at this, and I had to make it count—or I was dead.

So I gathered up the final scraps of my Ice magic . . . and let loose with it.

I sent out a blast of Ice, forcing the cold power out of my hands and into the water around me. I didn’t know if I had enough strength, enough magic for what I needed to do; hell, I didn’t even know if it would work at all.

The creek water that had been rushing by immediately froze. One second, I could feel the water flowing around me. The next, it had stopped cold—literally. The entire creek had frozen around me, including the tentacles of Salina’s magic. They wrapped around my body like crystallized
tendrils of ivy gnarled and knotted every which way. The whole scene, all the glittering, elemental Ice around me, was strangely beautiful—and still deadly.

I might have stopped Salina from drowning me by freezing the creek, but I still wasn’t getting any air. I might have been an Ice elemental, but that didn’t mean I could
breathe
through it. So I sent out another desperate burst of magic, hoping to crack the Ice that encased me like a crystal coffin.

But I’d already used up so much of my power, and the Ice was frozen solid. Again and again, I sent out burst after burst of magic.

And at last, slowly, much too slowly, the Ice around me began to chip and crack and fall away from my body.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Running after Salina, fighting against her water tentacles, using my own Ice magic until there was none left—all of that had taken everything out of me, and I simply wasn’t strong enough to claw my way out of the weight of Ice pressing down on me and get to the air I so desperately needed.

I thought I punched one hand free of the Ice, but I wasn’t sure, and it wasn’t enough to matter anyway. Bit by bit, the blackness crept over me before it rose up in a wave in my mind and blotted out everything else.

The last thought I had was of Owen, and what he would think when he realized that Salina had killed me.

24

Someone was pounding on my chest. Over and over again, a tight fist smacked into my ribs right over my heart. An uncomfortable sensation, especially when I’d been so peaceful just a moment before, drifting along in that calm, soothing, unending blackness . . .

“Come on, breathe, dammit, breathe!”
a harsh voice barked at me.

Something hot and wet pressed against my mouth, forcing air down my throat and into my lungs. Again and again, that hot rush of air invaded my mouth, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. A few seconds later, my chest began heaving and convulsing, and I started coughing, spewing up all the water in my lungs and trying to choke down all the air I could at the same time.

Hands rolled me onto my side to make it easier for me to breathe. I just lay there, cold and half-frozen by my own Ice magic, my fingers curled into the dirt, my face
resting on a bed of dried, cracked leaves, sucking down breath after breath. After a few moments, I managed to open my eyes and found a face right there on the dirt next to mine—but it wasn’t the one that I expected. His eyes were blue, not violet, and his hair was as light as the sunshine kissing the forest.

Kincaid gave me a crooked smile. “Don’t think you’re going to weasel out of our deal just by dying, Gin.”

Deal? We didn’t have any deal. I’d never agreed to kill Salina for him. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but the words just wouldn’t come. The blackness rose up in my mind again, and I was helpless to resist it once more.

The girl had finally quit screaming—if not crying.

Even though her father was dead and had been for a while now, the girl was still slumped over his body—or what was left of it—and sobbing like she would never, ever stop. Each one of her loud, wild, soul-wrenching cries was like a knife piercing my own heart. I knew that pain, I knew those screams all too well—they were the same ones that had torn my heart to pieces and spewed out of my mouth after the murder of
my
family.

I was still a little shocked by what had happened. Mab Monroe had spent the better part of an hour torturing Benedict Dubois, burning him with her elemental Fire, delighting in his tearful pleas and whimpers as he begged her to stop. And she’d made everyone watch—all the dinner guests, all the chefs, all the waiters, even Dubois’s own daughter.

It had been like a nightmare come to life.

At first, Mab had toyed with Dubois, jabbing her red-hot fingers into his arms like they were slender cigarettes she was
stubbing out. Then, she’d used her elemental Fire to burn the rest of him—his chest, his legs; she’d even used her power to singe all the hair off his head like she was scalping him.

Still, no matter what Mab did, I made myself watch the whole thing just like Fletcher did beside me. These were the realities of life in Ashland, especially for an assassin-in-training like me. Because if I was ever captured, especially by someone like Mab, I would face the same sort of torture. Fletcher didn’t say the words. He didn’t have to. Not tonight. Not when I was faced with something like this.

Once Dubois was dead, I’d thought the Fire elemental would turn her wrath on the girl to quiet her down, but Mab just let her scream and scream, as though the sound amused her. It probably did, given all the cruel things I’d seen the Fire elemental do tonight. Finally, the girl broke free of the boy holding her, threw herself on top of her father’s body, and started crying, her sobs just as loud as her screams had been.

When it was finally over, Mab dusted the pieces of ash and burned flesh off her hands and turned to face the horrified crowd.

“Am I going to have any more problems from the rest of you?” she asked. “Or has this been an adequate enough display of my position in Ashland? I’m happy to demonstrate further, if you like.”

No one said a word.

Mab let out a pleased, pealing laugh. “I thought not.”

She turned and snapped her finger at one of her giants. “Bring the car around. I’m finished here.”

And then she walked away—just picked up the skirt of her long, forest-green evening gown and calmly walked away
like she hadn’t just burned a man to bits and enjoyed every second of it.

Less than a minute later, the Fire elemental slid into the back of a black limo. One of her men shut the door behind her, then scurried around and got in the front. The driver put the vehicle in gear, and the limo coasted down the long driveway. Even when the car had disappeared from sight, everyone stood where they were, afraid to move, afraid that Mab might come back and do the same thing to them that she’d done to Dubois.

All the while, the girl kept crying. The boy who’d been holding her back went over, crouched down beside her, and put his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t know what to do or say anymore than anyone else did. After a few seconds, the girl turned and threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him over onto the grass. He stroked her long blond hair and whispered words to her that I couldn’t hear, although I imagined they were your usual sort of comforting lies about how everything was going to be okay.

I eyed Dubois’s still smoldering body. No, everything was a long, long way from
okay.

Eventually, the guests roused themselves out of their stunned state and began murmuring to each other.

“Can’t believe Benedict thought he could really kill Mab . . .”

“He should have known better. . . .”

“If you ask me, he got what he deserved for being so foolish. . . .”

The last voice was a little louder and snider than the others had been—loud enough for the girl to hear. Her sobs stopped, and her head snapped around. She shoved the boy away and got to her feet, her hands curling into fists by her sides.

“Why didn’t you help him?” she yelled at the crowd. “Why did you all just stand there? You were supposed to be his friends! Cowards! You’re nothing but dirty rotten cowards! The whole lot of you!”

No one answered, but the guests edged away from her and dropped their eyes in shame.

Finally, a giant stepped forward, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. I recognized him as one of Dubois’s bodyguards.

“Calm down, Salina,” he said. “You know we couldn’t save your father. Not from Mab. Not without dying ourselves. There was nothing we could do.”

The girl stared up at the giant a moment, then smiled—a bright, sunny smile that was at odds with her red, tear-streaked face. Something about her expression made me uneasy. I started to move forward, but Fletcher grabbed my arm and held me still. The old man shook his head at me.

“You’re right, Carl,” the girl said in a sweet voice. “You couldn’t do anything—but I can.”

She reached into the giant’s jacket, plucked his gun from the holster on his belt, and shot him in the chest with it.