Spider's Trap

by Jennifer Estep

  At the opposite end of the table, Lorelei resumed text­ing, ignoring all the drama. She noticed me staring at her, scowled, and turned sideways in her seat to face the other way.

  I didn’t know why Lorelei was so disdainful of me. Sure, she’d sent some of her men to kill me, just like most of the other bosses had, and no doubt she was dis­appointed that I was still alive, despite her best efforts to the contrary. But we’d never had any direct conflicts or confrontations. Then again, if Lorelei Parker wanted to hate me, that was her problem. Take a number, sugar, and get in line. I had a long list of enemies, and one more didn’t bother me in the slightest.

  I polished off my gin and tonic and the last of the delicious desserts, and everyone pushed their nibbles aside. The waiters came around and freshened up everyone’s drinks. When they had finished and moved away, I gestured at Dimitri, indicating that he could finally begin his spiel. Dimitri huffed at how long I’d made him wait, but he got to his feet, fluffed up his damp toupee, and began his long-winded rant about the coin laundries.

  I tried to pay attention to him. Really, I did. But his speech quickly dissolved into a string of petulant pronouncements, claiming that he deserved the laundries just because he was Dimitri Barkov and he thought he was a badass. Yeah, even Luiz rolled his eyes at that, but he was smart enough to keep quiet. Or maybe Luiz thought that he could win the laundries simply by being the person who annoyed me less.

  He might be right about that. I didn’t see any other reason to give one man the businesses over the other.

  But Dimitri plowed ahead full steam with his rant, oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t listening to him. Neither was anyone else. Phillip was sipping his Scotch and watching a group of ducks swim across the river, while Silvio discreetly tapped away on his phone under the table, just like Lorelei. Even Dimitri’s own guards looked far more interested in their food and drinks than in their boss’s grandstanding.

  Everyone’s collective boredom, including my own, was probably the only reason I noticed the waiter.

  He wore the same uniform all the other waitstaff did—black pants, black shirt, red tuxedo vest. But instead of coming out through the double doors like the rest of the staff had, he emerged from a walkway that wrapped around the side of the boat facing the river. Still, he might not have caught my eye at all if the sun hadn’t reflected off the silver bucket he was carrying and flashed a bright spot in my eyes. I winced and blinked away the resulting stars.

  The waiter placed the bucket on a serving stand next to the railing, about five feet away from where I was sitting at the end of the conference table. A bottle of champagne was nestled in a mound of ice inside the bucket.

  The waiter left the bucket behind and fell in step with the others, grabbing the now-empty food platters and passing them off to other staff members, who whisked the trays across the deck, through the double doors, and out of sight. But he made no move to go back over and actually do anything with the champagne. Strange. You’d think that he would have opened the bottle first thing to start serving it while the other waiters replenished the food.

  Another thought struck me. Nobody had ordered champagne when the first waiter had gone around, and everybody still had a full glass in hand, since our drinks had just been topped off. Now, Phillip could be playing the part of the gracious host and have asked that the bubbly be brought out in case anyone wanted it. But I’d never heard him give that order either.

  Finn often told me that I was completely, utterly, insanely paranoid, but so many people had tried to kill me over the past several months that I thought my constant worry was more than warranted. I wasn’t a superhero, but my Spider sense was definitely tingling right now.

  I focused on the waiter, but he didn’t do anything suspicious, and when the table was covered with food again, he took up a position by the railing, right next to the champagne bucket. He seemed as bored as everyone else, since Dimitri was still going strong with his speechifying, but something about the waiter wasn’t quite right.

  So I kept staring at him, trying to figure out what it was. He was average-looking, with sandy hair, brown eyes, and a medium build. Nothing about him really stood out at all. No distinguishing marks, no scars, no tattoos. He blended in perfectly with the other waiters, and he could have been a piece of furniture for all the attention he attracted.

  All the traits of a perfect assassin.

  I’d spent years being just as forgettable. Just another waiter, just another worker, just another bland, polite face in the crowd at some of the most lavish parties in Ashland. Sure, I might have actually been hired and served as a waiter, but what I’d really been doing was conducting reconnaissance on potential targets and scoping out security systems at some of the city’s finest homes.

  But if this guy was an assassin, and he was here to kill someone, then where was his weapon? I didn’t see a gun outlined anywhere on his body. He could have a revolver or a knife tucked against the small of his back or strapped to his ankle, but it would be hard to get to a weapon in those spots, whip it out, and kill someone with it. Especially if I was his target. I could easily blast him with magic before he grabbed his gun or got close enough to stab me with a knife.

  But the guy didn’t make any moves toward me. He wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, he stood by the railing, with one hand resting on the rim of the silver champagne bucket, and ogled Lorelei Parker, even though she was ignoring everyone and still texting.

  “Gin?” Silvio whispered. “Is something wrong?”

  He pointedly dropped his gaze to my lap. I looked down to find that my hands were clenched into fists so tight that I could feel my fingers pressing into the scars embedded in my palms—two small circles, each one surrounded by eight thin rays. A spider rune, the symbol for patience. My own personal mark, in more ways than one.

  I relaxed my grip, then frowned. Because it wasn’t my Spider sense tingling so much as it was the silverstone that made up my spider rune scars. The metal was itching and burning in a way that only meant one thing: someone here was using elemental magic.

  I looked around the deck. Silvio had vetted everyone who was going to be here today, including Dimitri, Luiz, and their guards, and none of them had any kind of magic. Of course, someone could have been hiding their ability, but the vampire was nothing if not thorough. If anyone here had ever used magic out in public where other people could see it, Silvio would have found out about it.

  One of Phillip’s waiters or guards could be using magic, but I was familiar with them, given my frequent trips to the riverboat, and I didn’t see anyone I didn’t know from previous visits.

  Except for the mystery waiter.

  I studied him again, but his dark eyes didn’t glow with magic, and no sparks of Fire or needles of Ice formed on his fingertips from where he might be reaching for some sort of elemental power.

  So I focused on the feel of the magic itself. It wasn’t the hot burn of Fire, the cold frost of Ice, or even the gusty breeze of Air. Instead, the power felt most similar to my own rock-hard Stone magic, although it wasn’t exactly the same.

  I scanned the deck again, but Dimitri was still talking, and everyone was as bored as before. My gaze latched back onto the waiter, and I finally realized what was wrong about him.

  He wasn’t wearing a gold riverboat rune pin on his vest like all the other waiters were.

  Most folks in Ashland used some sort of rune to symbolize their businesses, their magic, or even their family ties. So did underworld figures like Phillip, but he and all the others kept a tight watch on their runes—whether they were fashioned into pins or rings or whatever—and especially on who was wearing them. Phillip and the other bosses wouldn’t let just anyone sport their runes. No, in order to wear the symbol, you had to actually be part of the crew and loyal to the head honcho.

  Black pants and a matching shirt would have been easy enough to get.
So would a red tuxedo vest. But the gold riverboat rune pin was the one thing a would-be assassin wouldn’t be able to pick up at the store the day he decided to impersonate a Delta Queen waiter, slip on board, and try to kill someone.

  No, not someone. Me. The Spider.

  “Stay here until I get back,” I murmured to Silvio. “Don’t let anyone leave.”

  “Back? Where are you going—”

  “I can’t believe it!” Dimitri’s loud voice cut him off. “You’re not listening to me! Again!”

  Dimitri threw his hands up into the air and started cursing at me in Russian again. Everyone else turned their attention to him, amused by his tirade, but I kept staring at the mystery waiter.

  The man realized that I was looking at him, and he stared back, his eyes widening as he thought about what to do. He gave me a tight smile, then quickly looked away, focusing on Dimitri, even as he started shifting on his feet. He was trying to remain calm, but nervous beads of sweat slid down the side of his face, despite the cool November breeze. The waiter wouldn’t be hovering so close and suddenly so tense at my watching him if I weren’t his intended target.

  I surged up out of my seat, and he turned and ran.

  He raced across the deck and onto the walkway that ran the length of the riverboat. I took the most direct route after him, leaping up into my chair and then on top of the table. I sprinted straight across the table, knocking off the remaining platters of food, turning over drinks, and generally making a mess. Surprised shouts rose up behind me, but I focused on jumping off the table and chasing after the waiter.

  Guilty people always run. I should know. I’m almost always one of them.

  But the fake waiter had a head start, and he was moving fast. He flung open a door and ran through a glassed-in viewing room that overlooked the river, then shoved through the opposite door and kept on booking it toward the back of the boat.

  Luckily, he left the doors open for me, and I was able to make up a few precious seconds on him.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  As I left the viewing room behind, the guy climbed up onto the brass railing at the very back of the riverboat, right next to the enormous white paddle wheel that loomed up over all six decks. Instead of looking back to see how close I was, he launched himself over the side in a perfect swan dive.

  Splash!

  The waiter cut through the surface of the water with all the grace of an Olympic high diver, and barely a ripple showed where he had landed in the river. Impressive. I skidded to a stop and leaned over the railing.

  The guy surfaced and started swimming toward the opposite shore as fast as he could. I started to hook my leg over the railing so I could dive in after him—

  Crack!

  Crack! Crack!

  Crack!

  Bullets pinged off the railing, making me duck down behind the brass bars. I immediately reached for my Stone magic, using it to make my skin as hard as marble, even as I summoned up a cold, silvery ball of Ice magic in my right hand. I was one of the rare folks who were gifted in not one but two elements, and I was deadly in both of them. I peered through the gaps in the railing, searching for a target to blast with my Ice power.

  But no more bullets zipped through the air toward me.

  Five seconds passed, then ten, then twenty.

  And still, no more gunfire.

  At the thirty-second mark, I let go of my Ice power, although I still kept my skin impenetrable with my Stone magic in case the sniper was trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Then I rose back onto my feet and looked out over the water.

  By this point, the fake waiter had reached the shallows and was busy shoving through cattails. I cursed, because there was no way I could catch him now. So I waited, wondering if the sniper might show himself. Whoever had been firing at me was too smart for that, unfortunately.

  But he wasn’t too smart to peer at me through his binoculars again.

  It was the same telltale flash of glass I’d noticed earlier on the main deck and one that I was all too familiar with, since I’d often used binoculars to spy on potential targets. I frowned, wondering why the guy would be content just to stare at me when I was standing upright, giving him what looked like a clear, easy shot.

  But the sun kept winking off the binocular lenses, and no more bullets zeroed in on me. Across the river, the fake waiter finally slogged out of the shallows and scrambled up onto the riverbank. A few seconds later, he vanished into the trees.

  So why was the sniper still training his lenses on me? He should have been hightailing it out of here with his buddy, not sticking around to watch the aftermath.

  Unless . . . this wasn’t the aftermath he was waiting for.

  I thought of the way the waiter had clutched the rim of the silver champagne bucket earlier. He might have escaped, but that bucket was still sitting there, right where he’d left it.

  A horrible suspicion occurred to me. I’d wondered where the waiter’s weapon was, but maybe he hadn’t carried a weapon at all. Maybe he’d had something even more powerful and far more deadly, something that he’d purposefully left behind on the riverboat.

  A bomb.

  3

  I turned and sprinted back the way I’d come, heading for the front of the boat.

  Silvio and Phillip appeared at the far end of the walkway, no doubt drawn by the sound of the gunshots and coming to help me, but it was too late for that.

  It might be too late for all of us.

  I waved at them. “Get back! Get everyone off the main deck! There’s a bomb!”

  Silvio must have heard me with his enhanced vampiric hearing, because he yanked on Phillip’s arm, and they both whipped around and hurried back to the main deck, vanishing from my line of sight.

  Screams and shouts rose up from that area, although they were too garbled to understand. All I could really hear was the heavy thump-thump-thump-thump of my boots on the deck and the roar of my own heart beating like a bass drum in my ears. I ran as fast as I could, but with every step, I worried that I was going to be too late to save my friends. Because that telltale flash of glass still gleamed in the woods across the river, and I expected the sniper to remotely trigger the bomb at any second.

  That’s what I would have done, anyway.

  But the sniper must have had other ideas, because no explosion ripped through the air. No fire flashed, and no smoke boiled up into the sky. So I kept running. I didn’t know why the bomb hadn’t gone off yet, but I was going to use every extra second I got.

  That was the only way we were going to survive this.

  I raced back out onto the main deck to find that the meeting had dissolved into complete and utter chaos. Silvio and Phillip were yelling for everyone to get off the riverboat, with Phillip standing by the open double doors, trying to usher his staff to safety.

  Across the deck, a logjam had formed at the top of the gangplank, with Dimitri, Luiz, and their respective guards scrambling to disembark first. Silvio was there too, shouting at them to go down the gangplank two at a time in an orderly fashion, but the thin vampire was no match for the giants, and he bounced off their tall, broad bodies like a tennis ball being whacked first one way, then back the other. No one was listening to him, and no one was getting off the boat.

  Phillip ran over, grabbed hold of the closest giant, and flipped him over the railing and down into the river. Phillip’s likely mix of giant and dwarven blood gave him more than enough strength to wade into the crowd, shove Dimitri, Luiz, and their men out of the way, and give Silvio some much-needed breathing room.

  And create a perfect opening for Lorelei Parker to escape.

  Lorelei was no match for the giants’ strength, so she stuck her boot out, tripping one of them as he ran past her. The giant yelled and stumbled forward, knocking down two other men in front of him, like trees crashing tog
ether in the forest, and creating a clear path to safety. Lorelei leaped onto the fallen giant’s back, hopscotched over the other two men, and made it to the gangplank as easy as you please. Even I had to admire her sneaky, effective technique. Corbin followed her down the gangplank, and the two of them disappeared from view.

  I scanned the rest of the area. The conference table had been tipped over onto its side, with all the serving platters lying around it, the elegant displays of food littering the deck like garbage. Chairs had been overturned, glasses had shattered, and everything was a mess.

  Except for the champagne bucket.

  It remained untouched, sitting on that serving stand beside the railing right where the fake waiter had left it, shining like a bright silver beacon amid all the trampled food, dented platters, and upended furniture.

  I rushed over to the bucket and clawed through the ice. I checked to make sure that there was just liquid in the champagne bottle, then threw it aside. The bottle shattered on the deck, the golden liquid inside hissing, fizzing, and bubbling like acid. It reminded me of Madeline’s horrible magic. I flinched and kept searching through the ice.

  Finally, just when I thought that I was wrong and there wasn’t a bomb hidden inside, my hand closed around something small, square, and metal in the bottom of the bucket. Still holding on to my Stone magic to protect myself from any potential blast, I yanked the object out of the dark depths, wondering all the while why the sniper, the watcher, hadn’t blown up the bomb already—and me along with it.

  Or maybe he’d just been waiting for me to pick it up to ensure maximum damage to yours truly.

  The thought made me flinch again, tense up, and reach for even more of my Stone magic. But the device still didn’t explode, so I took a few precious seconds to examine it. I didn’t know as much about bombs as Finn did, but it was a simple metal box with a cell phone duct-taped to the top to serve as the trigger. No doubt some sort of explosives had been packed into the container, but the box was still a lot heavier than it should have been. I gave it a gentle shake, and several items rattled around inside. They almost sounded like . . . nails, loose nails that would create deadly shrapnel the second the bomb exploded.