Deadly Sting (13 page)

“Good job,” Dixon said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Your rune and that explosive will be more than enough to blow the bridge.”

So that’s
what
they were planning, to toast the bridge. The
when
was easy enough to figure out: after they’d sacked up all of the art and were on the mainland once more. But why destroy the bridge at all? All of the hostages would already be dead, so it wasn’t like there would be anyone left to follow them or sound an alarm . . . unless . . . unless the giants didn’t plan to kill the hostages after all.

I tapped my fingers against the hilt of my knife as I tried to figure things out.

Obliterating the bridge was one way of trapping all of the hostages on the island and avoiding chase. But why even leave the hostages alive in the first place? It wasn’t like Clementine had any qualms about killing people. So why let anyone live who could identify or come after her after the fact? It didn’t make sense that she would, especially if she wanted her giants to take over the underworld from all the crime bosses being held in the rotunda.

And it wouldn’t solve the problem of the cops that would be hot on her trail just as soon as someone sounded the alarm. By the time the giants got done in the museum, they’d have four big, heavy trucks full of art—too much for a quick getaway, especially given the twisting, curving two-lane road that led from the museum back down into the city. Clementine had to have realized that. So what else did she have up her sleeve? How was she planning to evade the po-po? That I didn’t know worried me.

“Pack it up and get back to the museum,” Dixon said. “We’ve still got more rooms to go through.”

Hannah grinned. “Sure thing. We wouldn’t want all that art to just hang there, now, would we?”

All three giants laughed. Bad jokes seemed to be the calling card of this crew.

Dixon left the bridge and headed back up the hill, leaving the other two giants behind to collect the gear they’d stowed a few feet away from the bridge entrance. Dixon started whistling, and the cheerful sound made the black, murderous rage beat in my heart once more. I would have liked nothing more than to follow the bastard and knife him in the back for what he’d done to Jillian, but he wasn’t important right now—the bomb was.

Hannah turned off her flashlight and put it down on the pavement while Anton shoved his crowbar back into his duffel bag. Dixon was already out of sight—and, more important, earshot, since I couldn’t hear him whistling anymore.

Knife in hand, I straightened up and headed toward the edge of the garden. Unfortunately, the foliage stopped short of the bridge, leaving about ten feet of dead space and plenty of chance for the giants to see my approach.

I thought about using my Stone magic to harden my skin in case they were able to get to their guns quicker than I was able to get to them. But in the end, I decided not to. I wanted to conserve my magic as much as possible, since I didn’t know how many more giants I might have to fight before the night was through.

So I grabbed my second knife from its holster, drew in a breath, and stepped forward—

A twig cracked under my bare foot.

It wasn’t a loud sound, but it seemed to boom as big as a clap of thunder in the hushed night air. I cursed my own sloppiness and bad luck. First the creaky door, now this. I just couldn’t catch a break tonight—or at least be quiet enough to sneak up on someone.

For a moment, the two giants froze, staring at each other. Then Anton fumbled for his gun while Hannah turned toward where I was, more elemental Fire flaring to life in the palm of her hand.

I stepped up and threw my first knife at Hannah, but my aim was off, and the knife only sank into her shoulder. Still, it was enough to break her hold on her magic, and the Fire was snuffed out in her hand. She screamed, clutched at the blade in her body, and staggered back against the wooden railing that ran along the outside of the bridge.

Even as she fell back, I raced forward, this time focusing my attention on Anton. He managed to yank the gun from the holster on his belt and take aim at me. I threw myself forward, rolling, rolling, rolling, the pavement digging into my sides, stomach, and shoulders.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Anton’s gun had a silencer, just like Dixon’s, so the bullets didn’t make too much noise as they flew through the air over my head and raced away into the darkness. Well, that was one small favor, although Hannah’s scream had already been far too loud for my liking. But there was nothing to do now but finish my enemies and hope that no one would hear the commotion.

I came to a stop right in front of Anton, and I surged up onto my knees and sliced my knife across his thigh. The wound wasn’t deep enough to sever his femoral artery like I’d wanted, but it was still a serious cut, and blood spattered across my neck, chest, and hand.

Anton screamed and went down on his ass. He kicked his legs out and crab-walked backward across the pavement, scurrying away from me and heading toward the bridge opening—and the bomb.

I didn’t know if he was deliberately moving toward the explosive or just trying to get away from me no matter what, but I could
not
let him touch that Fire rune. Depending on how it was rigged, the rune could ignite at the slightest touch and trigger the bomb, which could blow us all sky-high.

A gleam of metal caught my eye, and I saw his crowbar sticking out of the top of his duffel bag. Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed the weapon and lashed out with it.

I cracked the crowbar against the giant’s knee, stopping his backward progress. He moaned and started to curl into a ball to protect himself, but it was too late. I raised the crowbar and brought it down again, this time on his head. The curved end stuck in the giant’s skull, and when I ripped it out, blood spurted up like a geyser, coating the pavement, and Anton’s eyes took on a glassy sheen. He’d be dead in another minute, two tops—

The crackle of magic filled the air, and I ducked to one side. A ball of elemental Fire streaked by my head and exploded against a nearby maple, sending smoke and sparks whooshing up into the sky. I whirled around to find Hannah standing behind me, the knife that should have been in her shoulder lying on the pavement at her feet.

“I’m going to burn you alive!” she hissed, another ball of elemental Fire flickering to life in her hand.

“Oh, I doubt that,” I drawled, twirling the crowbar in my hand.

She reared back her hand to throw her magic at me, but I didn’t give her the chance. I closed the gap between us, raised the crowbar high, and cracked her across the skull with it, just like her partner. Hannah staggered back, a dazed look on her face, but I went after her again and again, hitting her across the skull, neck, and chest as hard as I could, driving her back toward the wooden railing that ringed the edge of the island.

When I got close enough, I dropped the crowbar and buried a knife in her heart.

She sucked in a breath to scream, but I ripped the blade free, pivoted, and lashed out with my left foot, kicking her in the gut. Hannah grunted and stumbled back, the weight of her body causing the weathered wood railing to creak and groan. I pivoted once more, kicking her again. This time, the railing didn’t hold, making the same sharp, snapping sound that the twig had made earlier under my foot. Hannah’s arms windmilled, and she fell backward into the darkness. A few seconds later, I heard the splash of her body hitting the river far, far below.

I stood there in the middle of the road, bathed in the golden glow of one of the garden lights, my weapon clenched in my hand. I looked and listened, but the only sounds were my soft, quick breaths and the faint
plop-plop-plop
of blood dripping off the end of my knife. No shouts of alarm rattled through the air, no footsteps smacked in my direction, no bullets came my way. No one had heard the fight, although the pieces of pavement underfoot had already started to mutter about their sudden, violent deaths.

I grabbed my fallen knife, put both of my weapons back into their holsters, then stooped down and searched Anton. He didn’t have anything particularly noteworthy, although I did trade my gun for his silenced one and reloaded the weapon with the spare ammo I found in his duffel bag. I also picked the crowbar back up and grabbed Hannah’s flashlight. Once that was done, I got to my feet and stared at the bridge. Thinking.

After a moment, I grinned. If Clementine wanted to blow something up, I’d be more than happy to oblige her.

13

I decided to leave Anton where he lay on the pavement in front of the bridge. I didn’t care if anyone found him. If things went according to my plan, everyone would know about me in a few more minutes anyway.

I stepped over the giant’s body, walked through the bridge entrance, and dropped to my knees in front of the board I’d seen them messing with earlier. I clicked on the
flashlight and moved the beam back and forth over the area.
A symbol had been scorched into the top of the wood: a
small circle surrounded by several wavy rays.

A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab’s personal rune.

Well, I supposed that using that particular rune was rather appropriate, since the giants intended to steal all of the Fire elemental’s treasures. I wondered if Clementine was as big a fan of irony as I was. Probably not.

The symbol glowed with a faint orange light, as though it were still hot and smoking from being burned into the wood. Usually, some action was required to trigger a rune like this. If it had been traced into a door, whoever was unlucky enough to open it would get a face full of elemental Fire for his or her trouble. In this case, it seemed like the giants planned to detonate the bomb underneath to get the rune to flare to life and add to the fire, heat, and damage from the explosive itself.

Well, not if I could help it.

I set the flashlight down, then put my hand on the adjoining board, careful not to touch and jostle the other piece of wood—or the rune on top of it—in any way. I had no desire to blow myself to kingdom come. At least, not before I’d saved my friends.

I flattened my hand on the wood, feeling a splinter stab into my thumb, then reached for my Ice magic. Once again, a cold silver light flickered, centered on the spider rune scar in my palm. It only took a moment for me to bring my magic to bear. Elemental Ice crystals quickly spread out from my palm, across the wood, and onto the adjoining board with the rune on it. I concentrated, forcing the crystals to flow all around the sunburst rune without actually touching it. Then, when the entire board was coated with an inch of my Ice, I let the crystals creep inward toward the rune.

The sunburst hissed and flashed with the elemental Fire it contained, threatening to erupt, engulf me in its deadly heat, and trigger the bomb below. But I slowly, carefully forced my Ice on top of the symbol, choking the Fire with the cold crystals of its opposing element.

Sweat beaded on my temples and gathered in the hollow of my throat, my head ached from concentrating so hard, and my flattened hand trembled and threatened to cramp with every passing second. Releasing a sudden burst
of raw, unfocused magic was one thing. Even the weakest elemental could do that with relative ease, and it was the most popular form of attack during the desperate mo
ments of an elemental duel. But small, controlled, precise bits of magic like this were difficult, tricky, and draining.

Still, it was something I’d been working on lately with Jo-Jo. I was strong in my magic, but I wanted to be smart with it too. Part of that meant going beyond raw, brutal force and learning how to better focus my power and use it to control, manipulate, and manage my elements and their impact on the environment around me. Simply put, I wanted to develop more of the finesse that Clementine had mentioned to Owen earlier.

And now here I was, doing the same thing to the sunburst rune that Owen was doing to the silverstone vault door. I wondered if he was having as difficult a time with it as I was. Probably not, since he used his magic like this all the time in his forge, crafting some new sculpture or weapon. He didn’t have the sheer power that I did, but he definitely had the finesse aspect of his magic down pat.

Thinking about Owen motivated me to focus even more. I forced another layer of Ice over the sunburst rune, and the last bit of elemental Fire was finally snuffed out, choked to death by the cold power of my magic. I let out a breath that frosted in the air, despite the sticky summer humidity.

The rune neutralized, I was still careful as I used the crowbar to pry up the board and remove the bomb that had been taped to the underside. I put down the crowbar, picked up the flashlight, and focused the beam on the device. I was no expert in explosives, but Finn liked to make the occasional bomb in his spare time, and he’d taught me something about them. This one was pretty standard. A brick of what looked like C-4 with an attached cell phone that could be used either as a remote trigger or as a timer methodically ticking down until the bomb went
boom
.

I clicked off the flashlight, put it through a loop on my belt, and got to my feet. Since Clementine and her men weren’t ready to leave the museum just yet, I felt safe enough carrying the bomb in my bare hand. Besides, I planned on using it soon enough.

So, bomb in hand, I turned, slid into the shadow-filled gardens once more, and headed back toward the museum.

* * *

The main doors to the museum now stood wide open to make it easier for the giants to haul their ill-gotten goods outside, I supposed. But no one was loading the trucks at the moment, so I was able to slide back into my spot between the museum wall and the greenery that ringed the building. There were a couple of other things I wanted to check before I put the next part of my plan into action. I set the bomb down next to a patch of briars that had sprung up in the middle of the rhododendrons and wiggled my way through the bushes. A few branches tugged at my hair, while twigs and leaves added more faint scratches to my arms, but I broke free to the other side. After that, it was simply a matter of crouching low, running over to the moving truck the giants had been loading up earlier, dropping to my stomach, and scooting underneath the large vehicle.

The caustic scents of gas, exhaust, and motor oil assaulted my nose, but I held back a cough and slithered forward, the pavement digging into my hips and stomach. Dixon had been messing around next to the truck for a reason, and I wanted to know what it was. When I reached the rear bumper of the truck, I rolled over so that I was on my back, slid the flashlight out of my belt, turned it on, and focused the beam up at the underside of the truck.

Nothing. I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Just the wheels, pipes, and axles that made up any large vehicle. I moved the light this way and that, but I didn’t see anything suspicious. In fact, the vehicle looked exceptionally well cared for, and all the parts practically gleamed, including the muffler and the box that was attached to it—

Wait a second. I was no mechanic, but mufflers didn’t have boxes on their sides, as far as I knew. I wiggled up a little more so I could get a better look, and I realized that there was a hole in the box. I reached up and hooked my finger in the slot. To my surprise, the metal slid back easily, revealing what was inside the box.

Another
bomb.

I froze, wondering if I might have somehow armed the device just by opening the box, but as the seconds passed and I didn’t get blown into next week, I relaxed.

A little.

I let out a tense breath and slowly moved the light over the device. This bomb was just like the one I’d pried off the bridge board, a brick of explosive with a cell-phone trigger. It wasn’t an enormous bomb, but it probably had enough juice to torch the truck and everything in it. That must have been what Dixon was checking with his phone earlier—to make sure that he could blow the device when the time was right.

I frowned, even more puzzled than before. Why would Dixon rig the moving truck to blow? Especially since there was already several millions of dollars’ worth of art on it, with more on the way. Blowing the bridge was one thing. Clementine needed that to help with her escape. But this—this made no sense. Why destroy the things you had come here to steal in the first place?

I lay there under the truck a moment longer, thinking. Then I turned off my flashlight and wormed my way out from underneath the vehicle. I got to my feet, crept to the front of the truck, and looked inside the cab, but it was empty except for a set of keys hanging in the ignition.

I quickly scurried around to the other three trucks and looked into their cabs as well, but they too were all empty except for their respective keys. Since they giants hadn’t started loading them up yet, the backs of them were all still shut and locked.

I paused a moment, thinking. Not seeing or hearing any giants headed my way, I decided to risk checking on one more thing.

I climbed into the back of the truck that was open, the one that I’d seen the giants stuffing with art earlier.

It was almost full, with only a narrow path leading from the front to the back, and I imagined the giants would fill in the rest of the available space soon enough. I snapped my flashlight back on, moving it over everything inside. Rolled-up tubes, bubble-wrapped statues, empty frames made of gold and silver. The giants had certainly been thorough in their looting.

But there was one thing that was missing: the silverstone case that I’d seen Dixon carrying earlier.

I moved the flashlight over everything again, but the case wasn’t here, which meant that the jewelry wasn’t in the truck. But Dixon hadn’t been carrying the case when he’d come out here with the giants before. So where had he taken the jewelry? And why not store it in here with everything else?

I snapped off the light and stood in the darkness, thinking some more. Then I shook my head, slid the flashlight back through the loop on my belt, and crept toward the open end of the truck.

Once I made sure that the coast was clear and no giants were coming my way, I hopped out of the back of the truck and slipped into the shadows again. I thought about prying the bomb off the undercarriage, but I decided to leave the device where it was. I already had one explosive, and, really, that was all that I needed.

Because now it was time to spin my own web of death and destruction—and for Clementine to finally feel the Spider’s sting.

* * *

My next destination wasn’t nearly as picturesque as the covered bridge.

I stopped long enough to retrieve the first bomb from where I’d left it behind the bushes. Then I hurried down into the parking lot and scurried through the rows of cars until I reached Finn’s Aston Martin.

I checked to make sure there weren’t any giants lurking around, but the area was deserted. Once I was satisfied that I was alone, I scooted around to the front of the car and the tag there—FINNSTOY. I shook my head at his vanity, then reached around behind the tag until I felt something small, hard, and metal. I gave it a good yank, and a car key slid into my hand.

Given the shady life we led and all the people Finn, Fletcher, and I had killed over the years, the extra key was a little safety precaution we took. Finn had them stashed on all his vehicles, just like I had one on my car. Just in case one of us wanted to get into the other’s ride without making a lot of noise or needed to make a quick, clean getaway.

I used the key to pop the trunk, which contained a couple of black duffel bags. Finn always kept extra gear in his various cars, just as I had some stashed in the back of the Pork Pit, at Jo-Jo’s salon, and other places that I frequented. In case of emergencies. I’d say tonight definitely qualified as one of those.

I unzipped one of the duffel bags. Pistols, silencers, ammunition, cleaning oil. Most of the items inside were gun-related, since those were Finn’s weapons of choice. I dumped the gun I’d taken off the giant and grabbed one of Finn’s instead, along with a silencer and several clips of ammo. Guns jammed too much for my liking, but my foster brother was obsessive about keeping his in tip-top shape, so I knew they would be far more reliable than the giant’s.

Finn also had an extra suit, shirt, tie, and socks and a pair of glossy wing tips stowed in a small suitcase in the trunk, along with an iron. Not helpful, unless I wanted to steam and starch someone to death. I shook my head again, this time at his obsessiveness when it came to his appearance.

Finally, I unzipped the final bag—my bag.

Finn kept some of his things in my car, and I reciprocated in his. After the gun, the next items I grabbed were two extra knives and their holsters. I buckled the bands of leather around my thighs and slid the weapons into the appropriate slots. Now I had four blades instead of just two. Good for me, bad for everyone else.