The woman stuck the toe of her boot into the man's ribs. A large hunk of his body disintegrated into gray ash at her touch and puffed up like some kind of cold, macabre fog. A sliver of a smile lifted her lips at the sight. Then she reached inside her coat, drew out something white, and tossed it down on top of his body before heading toward the van and sliding inside.
Thirty seconds later, the woman drove the van down the street, turned the corner, and disappeared from view. But instead of watching the vehicle, I stared at the burned-out body that she'd left behind, wondering what that bit of white was on the dwarf's still-smoking chest.
"You want me to follow her?" Finn asked, his hand hovering over the keys in the ignition.
I shook my head. "No. Stay here and keep an eye out."
I got out of the car and made my way across the street, slithering from shadow to shadow, a silverstone knife in either hand. After about five minutes of careful creeping and lots of pauses to look and listen, I reached the edge of the building closest to the dwarf. I crouched there in the black shadows, out of sight, until I was sure that the mystery woman wasn't going to circle back around the block and see if anyone had come to inspect her shocking handiwork. Then I drew in a breath, stood up, and walked over to the dead dwarf.
Even now, ten minutes after the initial attack, smoke still curled up from his body, the elegant, green-gray ribbons wafting up to the black sky. I breathed in through my mouth, but the stench of charred flesh still filled my nose. The familiar, acrid scent triggered all sorts of emotions that were better left dead and buried deep inside me. But they bubbled to the surface, whether I wanted them to or not.
For a moment, I was thirteen again, weeping, wailing, and staring down at the ashy, flaky ruined thing that had been my mother, Eira, before Mab Monroe had used her elemental Fire to burn her to death. And the matching husk that had been my older sister, Annabella. Trying not to vomit as I realized the cruel thing that had been done to them. That was going to be done to Bria and me before the night was through. Sweet, little Bria ...
I ruthlessly shook away the memory. My hands had curled into fists so tight that I could feel the hilts of my silverstone knives digging into the spider rune scars on my palms. I forced myself to relax my grip, then bent down on my knees so I could get a better look at the white blob resting on the dwarf's back.
To my surprise, it was a single white orchid, exquisite, elegant, and petal soft in the dark.
My eyes narrowed, and I regarded the blossom with a thoughtful expression. I knew what the flower meant and exactly who had left it behind to be found. It was her calling card, her name, rank, and trademark, just as my spider rune was. Something that she'd put here to announce her presence, mark her kill, and serve as a warning to anyone who dared to get in her way.
She was taunting me, just as I'd been doing to Mab Monroe these last two weeks.
"LaFleur," I muttered, saying her name out loud.
Because the simple fact was that an assassin had come to Ashland-one who was here to kill me.
Chapter 2
"You really don't know that she's here to kill you, Gin," Finn said.
After I'd examined the dead dwarf, I'd jogged back across the street and gotten into Finn's Escalade. He'd cranked the engine, and we'd left the docks and the mean streets of Southtown behind. Now we cruised through the downtown area on our way out to the suburbs that ringed Ashland.
The corporate sharks had long ago deserted the city's skyscrapers and office complexes and had gone home for the evening. The only people out on the streets at this hour were the bums who hadn't been able to find shelter for the night. A few of them huddled around trash can fires on some of the darker side alleys. Out on the main drag, vampire prostitutes wearing as little as the cold would let them trolled listlessly up and down the sidewalks, still hoping that some sugar daddy would want to get his rocks off before going back to his warm, comfortable bed. The hookers eyed Finn's vehicle with predatory interest as he drove past, their teeth gleaming like pointed pearls underneath the harsh glare of the streetlights.
"Maybe LaFleur just wanted to stiff the dwarf to get his merchandise," Finn added.
"So what? She waits in that shack on the dock for an hour until he moves those crates for her. Then she comes out and chats with him before she fries him with her electrical magic? I don't think so," I said. "The dwarf knew she was there the whole time. She was asking him if he'd seen or heard anything. If he'd seen or heard any sign of me. That's why he shrugged. The whole thing was a setup, pure and simple."
That was the only explanation that made sense. There was no other reason for someone of LaFleur's reputation, skills, and magic to sit in the dark for an hour. No, she'd been paid to be there-and I knew exactly who was footing the bill.
"Are you sure it was her?" Finn asked. "LaFleur? Here in Ashland?"
I nodded. "Yeah, it was LaFleur. She's the only assassin I know of who leaves a white orchid behind with her victims. It's her signature. Fletcher has a whole file of information on her."
Fletcher Lane had been the assassin the Tin Man most of his life, until I took over the business from my foster father several years ago. But Fletcher had kept up with things in his own way, including compiling information on all the other top-level assassins currently working in the trenches and those who had supposedly retired like me. Strengths, weaknesses, vices, quirks, preferred kill methods. The old man had documented everyone and everything that he could find, just in case any of the others ever became a threat to us.
It wasn't unheard of for one assassin to be hired to take out another. A few months ago, an assassin named Brutus, aka Viper, had been sent to kill me, the Spider. I'd taken a contract to off a corporate whistle-blower, only my employer had decided to frame me for the murder instead, so she'd brought in Brutus to kill me at the scene of the crime, the Ashland Opera House. Viper-so nicknamed because of the rune tattoo of a fanged snake on his neck-had gotten the drop on me and would have killed me if he hadn't stopped to brag about how much better an assassin he was than me. Talking. It was always the bad guy's downfall.
I made a mental note to dig out Fletcher's file on LaFleur. I'd seen a demonstration of her electrical elemental magic tonight, but I wanted to know what other skills she might have.
"Okay, say it was LaFleur," Finn said. "There's only one person she could be working for, given the fact that she was waiting there for you tonight, given whose shipment that was supposed to be at the docks."
"Mab Monroe." I finished his thought.
Not surprising. After all, I had declared war on the Fire elemental and her organization. But the real kicker was that a few weeks ago, I'd taken credit for killing Elliot Slater, the giant enforcer who was one of Mab's top lieutenants. Mab couldn't let the giant's death slide-not and save face with the rest of Ashland's underworld. She had to get rid of me somehow, if only to let everyone else know that she was still queen bee of the city. I'd been waiting for her to react, to make some kind of move against me, and now I knew what it was. The Fire elemental had hired LaFleur to come to Ashland and kill me.
It was a smart play. Cold, calm, logical, with a high chance for quick, lasting success. LaFleur's ambush might have worked tonight. She might have gotten the drop on me, might even have killed me, if I'd been five minutes less patient. But I'd been trained by the very best, by the Tin Man himself. Waiting out an enemy was one of the first things that Fletcher had taught me-and it had certainly come in handy tonight.
And as much as I might hate Mab, I had to admit that the Fire elemental never did anything halfway. LaFleur was one of the best assassins in the business, and now I knew that she had elemental magic at her disposal, as well as the usual assortment of deadly skills assassins specialize in. LaFleur's electrical power had felt just as strong as my Ice and Stone magic. So strong that I didn't know which of us would still be standing at the end of this little game. A troubling thought, to say the least.
"But why would LaFleur kill the dwarf?" Finn asked. "Especially if they were both working for Mab?"
I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe LaFleur was bored after having to wait so long for me not to show. Maybe all that electrical magic makes her twitchy. Maybe she just likes frying people. Her motives aren't important. What I want to know is who set me up. Who told you about Mab's shipment of drugs or whatever was in those boxes in the first place?"
Finn didn't say anything for a moment. "You're not going to like it."
"Correction. He's not going to like it when I get my hands on him. Now, who told you?"
Finn looked at me. "Vinnie Volga over at Northern Aggression."
I frowned. "The Ice elemental bartender?"
He nodded. "The one and the same."
Finn was right. I didn't like it, mainly because I was friendly with Vinnie's boss, Roslyn Phillips, the vampire madam who ran Northern Aggression, Ashland's most infamous and upscale nightclub. I didn't think that Roslyn would take too kindly to my killing her favorite bartender.
I sighed. "And just how did this information get from Vinnie's lips to your ears? Did he tell you himself or was there a middleman involved?"
Information was the commodity that Finn traded in, and my foster brother had a network of spies throughout Ashland and beyond. Everyone from people he'd done favors for, to friends of friends, to folks looking to earn a few bucks by passing on what they knew about the city's power players. Finn was a master at separating the wheat from the chaff, or the solid info from the smoke screens. I rarely asked him where he got his intel from, though. I trusted Finn, and that was all that mattered to me. He wouldn't steer me wrong if he could help it.
Finn shrugged. "No middleman at all this time. I was sitting at the bar last night, chatting up all the sweet young things like usual. There was a lull in the action, so Vinnie and I started talking. He asked me if I ever, ah, imbibed something stronger than alcohol. He said he heard about some good stuff that was coming in down at the docks tonight."
I looked at Finn. "Vinnie just blurted out that he knew when and where some drugs were coming into town? That sounds like a plant to me. Like Vinnie was spreading that line around to everyone to see who might bite on it."
"I thought it was just bullshit myself, until the dwarf started unloading those boxes," Finn said.
"I think we both know it's a little more serious than that now."
We fell silent as Finn left the downtown streets behind. The metropolis of Ashland sprawled over the corner of the Appalachian Mountains where Tennessee, North Carolina, and Virginia converged. The city was divided into two sections-Northtown and Southtown-held together by the circle of the downtown area.
The docks we'd just left were firmly entrenched in Southtown, the rough part of Ashland that was home to the poor, the down-on-their-luck, and the downtrodden. Southtown was the kind of place where people would slit your throat for your shoes. Anything in your wallet would just be gravy on top of that. Gangs and junkies littered the Southtown streets, along with more traditional forms of trash.
In comparison, Northtown was the rich, genteel, refined part of town, with high-end McMansions and immaculate estates that stretched out for miles. But that didn't mean Northtown was any safer. Because the rich folks there would kill you first with kind words before they actually plunged a dagger into your back.
Middle-class suburbs with more modest homes and income levels ringed Ashland on both sides, with all the requisite schools, shops, and businesses that you'd expect to find. Which is the general direction that Finn and I were headed in now.
About ten minutes later, Finn drove his car past a massive iron gate and up a long driveway that curved by a four-story mansion. Unlike some of the others in this area close to Northtown, the home was relatively plain with a simple, sturdy, stone facade. Much like the man who lived inside. The one that I'd come here to be with this evening.
Finn grinned at me, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. "Well, I hope you and Owen have fun on your booty call tonight, since you made me drive you all the way out here."
The Owen that Finn was referring to was Owen Grayson, the wealthy businessman I'd recently started seeing and the owner of the mansion before me. Owen had asked me to come by this evening, if I wasn't out too late killing Mab's minions. Since I wasn't covered in blood tonight as I had been for the last several, I'd decided to take him up on his offer.
"It's not a booty call," I muttered.
"Right," Finn drawled. "And I'm a eunuch."
I raised an eyebrow. "I do happen to have several sharp knives secreted on my person. So we could easily arrange that, if you really wanted to make that sort of permanent lifestyle change."
Finn shuddered. "I'd rather be dead."
He really would have. Finn had an appreciation for the female form that bordered on obsession. Old, young, fat, thin, blond, brunette, toothless. It didn't matter to Finn. As long as it was breathing and female, he saw an open invitation to be charming and oh so suave.
"Be sure and say hello to Eva for me," Finn said in a hopeful voice.
Eva Grayson was Owen's gorgeous nineteen-year-old sister and the object of Finn's affections whenever he saw her-or at least whenever there wasn't some other, more accessible female in his immediate line of sight. Finn tended to have a short attention span where the ladies were concerned.
"I thought you'd sworn off college girls after that pair at Northern Aggression said you were old enough to be their father."
"Hmph." Finn sniffed. "I'm only thirty-two, Gin, so technically, that's not quite accurate. I'm not that old."