I screamed. Not in pain or fear or surprise this time, but in sheer, undeniable fury, in raw elemental force, pouring my magic into that one primal sound. The bitch wasn't killing anyone else that I loved. Not now, not ever. I didn't care what I had to do to stop her-or what I had to sacrifice.
Triggered by my scream, my Stone power tore through the rubble and rocks around us, pulverizing and shattering them instantly, one after another, just as it had done the night this had all started. It was like watching a row of dominos fall down on top of each other. The giants, the bounty hunters, my friends. All the people who'd been fighting in the courtyard stumbled and staggered as the stone foundation under their feet literally disintegrated out from under them. The few walls that had been standing collapsed with a collective roar, sending more piles of rubble crashing down, and shards of rocks zipped through the air, joining the angry swirl of snowflakes.
The elemental force of my scream surprised even Mab, breaking her concentration for the briefest second. The Fire streaming out of her hands flickered and dimmed for the smallest fraction of time, but it was enough to let me draw in another breath and focus myself.
But my magic didn't stop with the stones of my ruined house. It spread out farther and faster than it ever had before, leaping from one rock to another, until even the forest around us seemed to quake, mutter, and vibrate with it.
I'd never known that I'd had this much magic before.
The thought skipped through my head just the way it had the last time I'd been here-the night that I'd collapsed my own mansion on top of everyone who'd been inside it. Mab, her men, Bria, even myself. Before, back then, my magic had scared me, and with my guilt over thinking that I'd killed Bria with it, I'd spent years using it in only the smallest of ways. But now I gave myself over to it completely. I could feel the power inside me, the incredible magic running through me like a vein of the finest, richest silver imaginable. Stone, Ice, Ice, Stone-there was no separation anymore. It all mixed together in me until there was just sheer power, just raw, furious force over the elements themselves. So much power, so much force, that I went cold and numb from it. Fingers, toes, torso, I couldn't even feel them anymore. My magic was the only thing I was aware of, surging through me, building and building and building toward something spectacular-
My body burst into silver flames.
I didn't know how I did it or why it happened or even that it was possible in the first place. But something ripped open deep inside me, and a second later, silver flames engulfed me from head to toe, dancing around my body like all the ghosts of my past come back to life to haunt me one final time. But the curious thing was that the flames weren't hot-they were cold. Colder than Ice. And that's when I realized what they were. My Ice magic come to life, manifesting itself just the way that Mab's Fire magic did. A new quirk, a new extension of my elemental power in my most desperate hour. Jo-Jo had always claimed that one day my Ice magic would be the equal of my Stone power.
The dwarf had just never told me that the Ice would get stronger.
"Nice trick," Mab hissed, eyeing the silver flames flashing around my body with obvious disgust. "But it's not going to be enough to save you."
"We'll see about that," I muttered back.
And then we danced.
The two of us stood there in the courtyard, our hands outstretched, magic pulsing out of our fingertips in bright, continuous waves. Mab's magic burned red and orange and yellow and black, spitting, hissing, and crackling with ash and heat. My magic glinted like a stream of silver stars all strung together, whistling and whispering with cold and frost.
Fire and Ice.
Opposing elements in so many ways.
And now, the two of us finally engaging in this battle that had been so many years in the making.
Our magic crashed together, sending up sizzling sprays of red and silver sparks, fireworks of an impressive and most deadly sort. Steam rose in the air between us, wrapping around us like fog. Sweat poured down my face, until I could barely see what I was doing, but I didn't wipe it away-I didn't dare do anything to interrupt my concentration. I didn't move, I didn't blink, I didn't even breathe.
I don't know how long we stood there, the two of us just throwing our magic at each other, pushing, straining, and fighting with everything that we had.
But eventually, I realized that I was going to lose.
Despite all the magic I was holding on to, despite all the raw power coursing through my veins, hell, despite the silver flames that coated my body, it still wasn't enough. Not enough to drive back Mab's Fire magic, not enough for my power to overtake hers and engulf her in Ice. All the rumors that I'd heard over the years were true. Mab did have more raw power than any elemental born in the last five hundred years-including me.
Now that we were dueling, I could sense the full extent of her power, and I knew that it was greater than my own. Not by much, but just enough to end me. Another minute, two tops, and I'd run out of juice. Then Mab's Fire would cut through my Ice, and she'd burn me to death, just like she had my mother and older sister. The fact that I was going to die the way they had wasn't lost on me. Hell, I would have laughed at the bitter, bitter irony, if I hadn't needed every bit of my strength right now just to keep standing.
Once again, I thought of Fletcher and what the old man might do in this situation. The truth was that he wouldn't have put himself in such a spot to start with. He would have found another way to kill Mab, something that didn't involve a face-to-face confrontation and an elemental duel. It was far too late for that now, of course, but what really irked me was that I was so close to finally beating her. All I needed was another burst of power, just another sliver, hell, another fingernail of magic-
And then I remembered.
My ring-the one Bria had given to me. A thin silver-stone band with my spider rune stamped into the middle of it. She had poured her Ice magic into the silverstone last night before I'd gone to the country club to confront Mab. With everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I'd forgotten about the ring and the power that it contained-and that I was still wearing it on my right index finger. I concentrated, focusing on that sliver of power. Somehow, despite the magic that numbed my body, I could feel the silverstone resting against my skin, a cold, solid band of Ice wrapped around my finger.
And I knew what I had to do.
I gritted my teeth and forced my feet to move forward. The motion made my concentration waver, just for a second, but the lapse was enough to let Mab's Fire blast through my Ice magic. The flames licked at my skin like a sloppy lover, burning me down to the bone. I screamed again, in agony once more.
Mab laughed, thinking that I was weakening, thinking she'd finally won. Her delighted cackle only made me that much more determined to end this thing-forever.
Despite the searing pain and the stench of my own burning flesh, I kept moving forward, inching closer and closer to the endless Fire streaming out of Mab's fingertips. I wasn't able to push back as much with my Ice magic, wasn't able to completely block her attack, and I felt my skin begin to bubble, blister, and burn from the incredible heat. But I didn't care. All that mattered now was killing Mab.
Maybe it was all that had ever really mattered.
Five feet, four, three... I inched closer and closer to the other elemental. Through the flames, Mab's black eyes narrowed, as if she couldn't figure out what I was up to. She'd know soon enough.
I crept closer still, my silverstone knife still in my right hand. Despite Mab's magic slamming into me, I'd managed to keep my death grip on the metal. It felt soft and hot in my fingers, but maybe I could do something about that. Carefully, I reached for the Ice magic that Bria had stored in my spider rune ring. There was only a trickle of it, compared to what Mab and I were throwing at each other, but it was enough-more than enough for what I had in mind.
"Oh, do come closer, little Genevieve," Mab mocked in her silky voice. "It'll make your death that much quicker."
Only two small feet separated us now, and I felt my skin melting, melting, melting, dripping from my bones like candle wax under the fiery roar of her magic. Somehow, I managed to draw in one final breath, even though flames coated my mouth and throat like acid.
"You want close?" I rasped. "How's this for close, bitch?"
With my left hand, I reached through the wall of Mab's elemental Fire, grabbed her sunburst necklace, and used it to yank her toward me. With my right hand, I drove my silverstone knife all the way through her heart.
The Fire elemental's black eyes bulged in shock and surprise, and she screamed with pain and fury-all the elemental pain and fury that I had felt minutes ago. Flames exploded from the wound, along with blood, and spattered against my cheek, adding to my agony. But I didn't care anymore. My world had narrowed to one final thing-killing my enemy.
Mab jerked back, trying to get away from me, but I didn't let her go. Hell, I didn't even try to defend myself. Instead, I redirected all of my magic, pouring everything that I had into keeping my silverstone knife cold, solid, and sharp in her chest. I twisted and twisted and twisted it, driving it in deeper every single time, even as her Fire washed over me, consuming me.
Mab screamed again, or maybe it was me. Hell, maybe it was both of us shrieking with pain like a couple of harpies come to life out of one of my mythology books. Whoever was screaming, I knew I'd done my part. Mab wouldn't be coming back from the sucking wound in her chest. It was just too bad that I wouldn't be coming back either, not from the elemental Fire that had burned me to the core.
Then the silver and red flames engulfed us both, and I knew no more.
Chapter 29
I hurried down the snowy street, my steps quick, sure, and purposeful. I was late, and I knew that he'd be waiting for me. He always waited for me after a job, no matter how long it took me to get here.
No one moved on the deserted downtown Ashland street except for me, and no cars crawled through the foot-deep snow. The flakes were coming down harder now, as heavy and wet as teardrops on my face, but I trudged on, eager to get to my destination. I turned the corner, and the familiar multicolored sign of the Pork Pit came into view, burning like a beacon through the dark night.
Home-I was finally home.
Light spilled out from the storefront windows, looking like pure liquid silver streaming down the snowbanks outside. I paused a moment and trailed my fingers over the cold, battered brick. The muted murmurs of clogged contentment sounded back to me the way they always did. I smiled and opened the door. The bell chimed a single cheery note, announcing my presence.
Inside, an old man with a wispy thatch of white hair leaned over the counter next to the cash register, reading a blood-stained book. Where the Red Fern Grows. One of his all-time favorites-and mine too.
Joy filled my heart at the sight of him, a burst of happiness so intense it was like I hadn't seen him in months, instead of just a few hours. After a moment, the feeling faded away, replaced by a darker, more ominous sensation.
And then I remembered.
He wasn't here anymore. Not really. No, he was dead, killed months ago in this very spot. Murdered in his own restaurant. I remembered crouching over his body, my tears dripping down and mixing with the blood on his ruined face. I remembered the pain of losing him, the pain that I still felt every time I woke up in his house and realized he was gone.
But here the old man was, and so was I-back together again. Or so it seemed.
He looked up at the sound of the bell chiming and used one of the day's credit card receipts to mark his spot in the blood-stained book. Then his bright green eyes met mine, and a grin creased his wrinkled face.
"About time you got here, Gin," Fletcher Lane said.
I stood there just inside the door, staring at the old man and struggling to make sense of this, of where I was and what was happening to me.
I remembered-I remembered- Fire. Mab's elemental Fire, washing over me, burning me to the core. My own Ice magic reaching out to hers, holding it at bay, and then finally, my driving my silverstone knife into Mab's chest as the flames consumed both of us.
I sighed. "So I'm dead then, right? This is heaven or hell or limbo or whatever?"
Fletcher didn't answer me. Instead, the old man moved over to the stove and came back with a plate of food. He set it on the counter, then picked up his book by the cash register once more, going back to his reading.
"Better start eating before it gets cold," he said.
I wasn't sure what was going on-if this was real or a dream or something else entirely-but I wasn't about to pass up a chance to be with Fletcher. Not now. Not after I'd spent the last few months missing him so terribly and feeling so guilty over his death-and that I hadn't been able to save him. Not from being tortured, not from being murdered.
So I took a seat at the counter and started eating the food. A half-pound hamburger dripping with mayonnaise and piled high with smoked Swiss cheese, sweet butter-leaf lettuce, a juicy tomato slice, and a thick slab of red onion. A bowl of spicy baked beans followed, along with a saucer of carrot-laced coleslaw. I remembered the last time that I'd had this meal-the night before Fletcher had died.
I dug into the food, a little hesitant at first, but soon I was relishing the play of sweet and spice, salt and vinegar, on my tongue. It was a simple, savory meal that I'd had hundreds of times before, one I'd cooked a thousand times more, but somehow it had never tasted as good as it did right now. It seemed like I'd barely started eating before my plate was clean. I pushed it back and sighed.
"That was the best meal I've ever eaten," I said in a wistful tone.
"I know," Fletcher said. "Everything tastes better here."