Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom (34 page)

Sophia nodded. She knew that Xavier would only get in my way—and probably get Roslyn killed in the process.

While the dwarf turned off the french fryer and shut everything else down for the night, I called Finn and told him the situation.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck, indeed.” Then, I asked Finn the most important question—of Roslyn Phillips’s life. “Where would Elliot Slater take Roslyn for one last hurrah before he kills her?”

“You don’t think she’s dead already?” he asked. “He’s had her at least an hour by now.”

I thought of the hot rage that I’d seen flashing in Slater’s hazel eyes last night on the riverboat. Of the embarrassment that Roslyn had caused him with her screamed accusations. Of the way that the giant had started after her, only to be called back by Mab Monroe. Of all the incessant calls that he’d bombarded Roslyn with during the long night.

“No,” I replied. “Slater will want to play with her first, punish her for what she did to him. At least for a couple of hours. That’s what he did to all those other women in his file. Which means I still have time to get to Roslyn—if I can find her. So where do you think Slater would go? You’re the one who compiled that file on him, who dug up all of Fletcher’s old information on him. You would know better than me.”

Asking for direction, for guidance, for a target to strike out at. It was something that I would have asked of Fletcher Lane, if he’d still been alive. But the old man had taught Finn everything he knew about how to gather information on a member of the opposition, analyze it, and predict how he would react in a certain situation. In some ways, Finn was even better at it than Fletcher had been, because Finn innately understood things like greed and desire and avarice. He saw them every day at
the bank where he worked, and again at night, while he hobnobbed with his rich, deadly clients.

Through the cell phone, a slow, slurping sound filled my ear. Finn, drinking yet another cup of coffee and thinking about my question. I could picture him leaning back in his expensive office chair, his green eyes bright with thought, the warm scent of his chicory coffee adding to his caffeine high. I let him think. Roslyn’s life depended on his coming up with the right answer. After about a minute, the slurping stopped, and I knew that Finn had come to a conclusion.

“Elliot Slater has a mansion up in the mountains north of the city,” Finn said. “He calls it Valhalla, if you can believe that. It’s large, remote, secluded. Dad used to speculate that Valhalla was where Slater disposed of certain bodies for Mab Monroe. I bet he’s gotten rid of some of his own victims up there as well. The Aneirin River cuts through the area. Lots of gorges, lots of hollows, lots of places to dump a body where it’ll never be found. If Slater wanted to spend one more night with Roslyn before he killed her, that’s where he’d take her. I’d bet my life on it.”

“You’re not betting your life,” I replied. “Just Roslyn’s.”

“I know that, Gin.” Finn’s voice was as dark and somber as mine. “Believe me, I know.”

We didn’t speak for a moment.

“Everything you need to know about Valhalla is in that file I compiled on Slater. Maps, roads, blueprints of the mansion and outbuildings,” Finn said. “Do you have it with you?”

I looked at the papers that I’d spread out on top of the counter. “I’m looking through it right now.”

“Where do you want me to meet you? Because I’m coming with you, and that’s not up for discussion.” There was no hesitation or give in Finn’s voice. Just the determination to finish this and save Roslyn. No matter what.

I eyed the clock on the wall. Creeping up on six thirty now. Roslyn had been gone an hour. By the time I got to Valhalla, close to another hour would have passed. If I waited for Finn here at the Pork Pit, it would be closer to ninety minutes. I didn’t know how long Slater would keep Roslyn alive, but every minute, every second I waited, was another one that the vamp would be in pure agony—and another one closer to her eventual death.

“All right, but we’re running out of time. I’m leaving right now to drive up there.” I looked at the maps of the area. “Looks like there’s some sort of gas station at the bottom of the mountain where the mansion sits. Grab your gear and meet me there as soon as you can.”

“You got it,” Finn said and hung up.

I gathered up all the papers on Elliot Slater and his mountain hideaway and stuffed them back into Finn’s manila folder. While I’d been talking to Finn, Sophia Deveraux had slipped into the back of the restaurant. The dwarf came out through the swinging doors carrying an anonymous black duffel bag. She handed it to me without a word.

“Thanks, Sophia.”

I took the bag from her, listening to the comforting
clink-clink-clink
of weapons rattling around inside. The bag contained just about everything I needed to do a quick, dirty job—silverstone knives, money, dark clothes, fake IDs, credit cards, tins of Jo-Jo’s healing salve. There
was only one more thing that I needed to stop and get on my way to Elliot Slater’s mansion. I unzipped the bag and put the folder of information in on top of my other supplies. Then I hefted the bag over my shoulder and headed for the swinging doors that led to the alley behind the restaurant.

Sophia moved to one side to let me pass. The dwarf reached out and put her pale hand on my arm. For a moment, I thought she meant to stop me from going on what basically amounted to a suicide mission. If anyone could do it, the dwarf could. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that I could take Sophia in anything resembling a fair fight. She’d seen all my tricks before, and she was tough as hell. And now I knew that she had Air elemental magic too—powerful magic that she could use to dissolve me into nothingness.

The dwarf stared at me for several seconds. Her eyes were black and flat as usual, but I caught the flash of some emotion swimming in the dark depths. It might have been approval or even pride, but it was gone too quick for me to pin it down.

“Luck,” Sophia rasped in her broken voice. She dropped her arm and gestured for me to go on through the swinging doors. The dwarf wasn’t going to stop me.

I nodded. “Thanks, Sophia. Tonight, I think I’m really going to need it.”

24

Twenty minutes later, my Mercedes Benz skidded to a halt in front of Owen Grayson’s mansion. I climbed out of the car, ran up to the front door, and banged the hammer rune knocker as hard as I could against the thick wood. About thirty seconds passed before I heard the scuffle of footsteps inside. A moment later, Eva Grayson cracked open the door. When she saw that it was me, she swung the door back even more.

“Gin?” Eva asked. “What are you doing here? Do you and Owen have another date or something?”

I didn’t answer, instead shouldering my way past her inside the mansion.

“Gin? Gin, what are you doing?” Eva called out behind me.

I ignored her and walked on through the house with all of its comfortable furnishings in their muted colors and the elaborate iron sculptures standing in various
nooks and crannies. My boots smacked out a loud pattern, while softer slippers scurried on the wooden floor behind me, as Eva hurried to catch up.

“Gin, what’s wrong?” she asked.

I didn’t respond. I hurried past the downstairs living room where Eva and Violet had been watching a movie last night. Had it only been last night? Seemed like a lifetime ago.

To my surprise, Violet Fox poked her head out of the living room, clutching a tub of popcorn in her hands. She and Eva must have been having another girls’ night in. Violet’s dark eyes widened behind her glasses when she saw me, and she started following me down the hallway, just like Eva was.

After about a minute of brisk walking, I came to the door that marked the entrance to Owen Grayson’s study. I rattled the knob. Locked. I turned to face Eva.

“Do you have a key for this?” I barked.

Eva started at my harsh tone. “Yeah, somewhere up in my room—”

No time for that. I reached for my Ice magic, and the familiar silver light flashed on the spider rune scar on my palm. Eva let out a small, surprised gasp at my display of elemental power. Violet just stood behind her, watching me.

A few seconds later, I let go of my magic and went to work with the two Ice picks that I’d created. It took me less than a minute to open the office door. I snapped on a light and walked over to the rows of silverstone weapons hanging on the wall. Eva and Violet followed me inside.

“Owen’s not here,” Eva said in a desperate voice. “I
don’t know what you want or what you’re doing, Gin, but if you’ll just wait for him, he’ll be back any minute.”

“Sorry,” I replied, scanning the weapons for what I needed. “No time to wait.”

There. Those would do nicely. I plucked the matching set of long swords that I’d noticed last night from their spots on the wall. I hefted the silverstone swords in my hands, checking their weight and balance. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Owen Grayson truly was a master craftsman. And I was going to put his weapons to good use tonight.

A black leather scabbard with two slots in it hung next to the swords, and I grabbed it as well. I turned and was headed toward the office door when Eva stepped in front of me.

“Oh no,” she said. “Owen’s absolutely
insane
about his weapons. He never lets anyone take them out of the office, not even me.”

I tried to go around her, but Eva sidestepped in front of me again. She was persistent, if nothing else. Just like her big brother was.

“I don’t have time to argue with you, Eva,” I snapped. “Get out of my way. Right now.”

Her blue eyes narrowed at my sharp tone. “Or what? You’ll stab me with one of those swords? I don’t think so.”

“No,” I said. “But I’ll shove you out of the way. How about that?”

Eva’s face paled at my threat, but she held her ground. Brave, but stupid. Reminded me of Bria. I didn’t want to hurt Eva, but I would if it meant I’d get to Roslyn Phillips in time to save the vampire.

Violet Fox stepped up beside her friend and regarded me with her dark eyes.

“You’re going after someone,” Violet said in a quiet tone.

I let out an angry breath. “Yes.”

She nodded. “All right then. That’s all I need to know.” Violet put her hand on Eva’s arm and drew her friend to one side. “Let her go, Eva. Just let her go.”

“But Owen—the weapons—” Eva sputtered.

“I don’t think he’ll mind since Gin’s the one taking them. Even if he does, well, I doubt he will for long. Isn’t that right, Gin?” Violet gave me a crooked smile.

I found myself smiling back. “That’s right, Violet. Thank you.”

Eva looked at her best friend, then at me. Violet slowly pulled the other girl to one side. Eva had a decidedly dazed expression on her lovely face, but I knew Violet would fill her in on what she needed to know. I nodded at Violet and walked past them, out of the office, and back down the long hallway. The girls followed me, but neither one said anything, and Eva didn’t try to stop me again.

I reached the front door, which was still open. Outside, my car beckoned, a silver beacon telling me to get on with things. But I found myself pausing, turning around, and staring at Eva. “If I don’t come back, tell your brother, tell Owen…”

I struggled to find the right words. Spouting mushy sentiment on command had never been one of my skills. Besides, I wasn’t even sure what I felt for Owen Grayson, other than a prurient desire to feel his naked body pressed against my own.

“Tell him what?” Eva asked.

A grim smile tightened my face. “Tell Owen that he’s a hell of a kisser.”

With those words, I stepped outside and shut the door behind me.

Thirty minutes later, I turned off my Benz and clicked on a small flashlight that I kept in the glove compartment. Using the information in Finn’s file, I’d driven up into the most rugged section of the Appalachian Mountains that cut through Ashland, way up north, well above the genteel confines and estates of Northtown. Technically, I was still in the city, but there were more mountains up here than people.

I’d parked the car to one side of a small gas station that lay at the foot of this particular ridge. My Benz hid between a rusted-out pickup truck that might have had green paint at one time and a white Dodge van propped up on cement blocks, its tires long since rotted away to bare rims. It was only seven thirty, but the station had already closed for the evening, probably due to the cold and hard bits of snow that continued to coast around on the night wind. The old, clapboard station reminded me of Warren T. Fox’s store, Country Daze, which wasn’t too far from here.