Venom in the Veins

by Jennifer Estep

  The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I was right.

  Finding this mystery item must be the mission Alanna had signed up for, the one she thought she could do better than Tucker. But her arrogance had pissed him off, and instead of letting her men take me out and recover the item, he’d helped me instead. Once again, Tucker was playing both sides against the middle, probably hoping that I’d kill Alanna for him the same way I had killed Bruce Porter.

  I didn’t care about Tucker’s twisted reasoning or whatever power struggle he might be having with Alanna. If there was something in one of those boxes that could hurt the Circle, then I was determined to find it.

  But first, I had to get out of here.

  By now, Terrence Phelps had called Alanna and told her that her plan had failed, and she could already be sending more men to the area. So I left the dead giants where they had fallen, along with the second black sedan, which was still idling and blocking the road.

  I hurried over to the back of my van, reached inside the door console, and pulled out some extra bungee cords before crawling inside the vehicle. I wasn’t nearly as strong as the giant who had forced her way into the van, but I managed to yank the broken door shut a few inches. Then I threaded the bungee cords through the interior door handle and secured them to the exposed metal framework inside the van, closing the door as much as possible. My crude web would keep the door from falling off and stop any boxes from sliding out of the back.

  Once the back door was secure, I climbed up to the front of the van, shoved the broken glass out of the driver’s seat, and sat down in it. The windshield had completely shattered, with all the bullets that had punched into and through it, but I didn’t mind. At least I had a clear view.

  Now came the real moment of truth. I’d turned the van off to fight the giants, but their hail of bullets might have completely destroyed the engine. If the engine was done for, then so was I, since there was no way I could move all those boxes of books by myself, much less the actual bookcase.

  Only one way to find out.

  I reached down and turned the key, which was still in the ignition. I held my breath, hoping, hoping, hoping that it would start…

  Vvv…vvv…vroom-vroom…

  The engine sputtered and wheezed for several seconds, as though it were coughing up all the bullets lodged in it, but it finally turned over. The low grumbling drowned out the relieved sigh that escaped my lips. I threw the van into gear, looked around to make sure that no traffic was coming, and hit the gas, zooming away from the scene of my latest crime.

  Luckily, I didn’t pass any cars around the botanical gardens, but given the engine’s continued coughing, I didn’t know how far my van would make it before it gave up completely. Besides, I couldn’t exactly drive around indefinitely in a bullet-ridden van with no windshield. Most of the cops might be as corrupt as the day was long, but even they would pull me over if they caught sight of my vehicle in this condition—if only to see what kind of bribe I’d offer to get out of trouble.

  So I thought about the closest, safest place to where I was and steered in that direction, sticking to the back roads, where I was less likely to run into any other cars.

  For once, my luck held, and I made it over to a shipping yard owned by Lorelei Parker without passing another vehicle. Lorelei was in the process of expanding the shipping yard, which she used for her various smuggling operations, and I drove around a couple of rolls of metal fencing that hadn’t been erected yet.

  A few minutes later, I parked the van behind one of the hundreds of metal containers that lined the area like oversize building blocks. This part of the yard butted up against the Aneirin River, and the ground dropped away to a steep bank that plummeted down to the dark water. That was going to come in handy later, since I had no desire to explain to anyone why my van now looked like a piece of metal Swiss cheese.

  I turned off the engine and leaned forward, listening and peering out the empty windshield. In the distance, heavy machinery rumbled back and forth as containers were moved around the yard, but the sounds didn’t draw any closer, and I didn’t see any workers in this section.

  It didn’t seem like anyone had spotted me, so I pulled out my phone, called Silvio, and told him what was going on. He was still at the Pork Pit, but he promised to come pick me up, as well as call around and see who else could help us.

  While I waited for him, I reached down and grabbed the photo of my parents, which had fallen to the floorboard when the shooting started. A bullet had hit the corner of the silver frame, shattering it as well as the glass, but the photo itself was still in one piece. I let out a relieved breath, carefully slid the photo out of what was left of the ruined frame, and put it on the dashboard for safekeeping.

  Next, I crawled into the back of the van, undid my web of bungee cords, and kicked the broken door open again. Then I hefted the boxes of books out of the van and set them down on the ground a safe distance away. The giant movers had made it look easy, but the books were heavy, and I was sweating by the time I plopped the last box down on the ground.

  My phone rang just as I was trying to figure out how—or if—I could move the bookcase by myself. Yeah, that wasn’t happening, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “You here?”

  “Your chariot awaits,” Silvio’s dry voice sounded in my ear.

  An engine rumbled in the distance, and several seconds later, a black van steered around the containers and stopped a few feet away. Silvio got out and walked over to me.

  “Where did you get that on such short notice?” I asked.

  He spun his silver key ring around on his finger, then held up the attached key chain, which was shaped like a spider rune, just like his tie pin was. “It’s mine. After I had to come down to Bullet Pointe to help you, I thought a larger vehicle might come in handy in case of emergency.” His gray gaze flicked from one cardboard box to another. “Although I never expected said emergency to involve books.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know whether to admire or be frightened by his planning, but it was one of the things that made him such a great assistant. “Well, I’m glad it’s here. Help me load these.”

  Given the blood he drank, Silvio was much stronger than I was, and he easily stuffed the boxes into the back of his van, along with the heavy bookcase, which he wrangled all by himself. While he was busy with that, I grabbed the photo of my parents out of my van and slid it into the top of one of the boxes.

  “Mosley should give his men a bonus,” Silvio said in an admiring voice as he secured the bookcase with bungee cords in the back of his van. “They did a great job cushioning this. I don’t think any bullets made it through all those layers of padded plastic.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Too bad they didn’t do the same thing to my van. Now, come on. Help me push.”

  I looked around again to make sure that we were still alone, then put my van in neutral and went around to the back.

  “On three,” I told Silvio. “One…two…three!”

  Together we pushed the vehicle forward. Well, really, Silvio did most of the pushing. But together we forced the van to the edge of the shipping yard and then shoved it over the side of the steep bank. After that, sweet, sweet gravity took over.

  SPLASH!

  The van careened down the bank and actually went airborne for a few seconds before it plunged into the river below. All of those bullet holes let the water rush right in, and the vehicle quickly sank below the murky surface. Silvio went back to start his own vehicle so we could leave, but I stayed by the river for a couple of minutes, making sure my van was completely submerged.

  The water was particularly deep here, and with any luck, the strong current would slowly push the van on down the river. The vehicle was registered in one of my many aliases—Carmen Cole, an oldie but a goodie—so even if the cops did eventually fish it out of the water, no one would be able to trace it back to me.

  I waited until all the air bubbles h
ad popped away and the surface of the water rippled and flowed like normal before getting into Silvio’s van.

  At least, I tried to get into the van. I got as far as opening the passenger’s door before he scurried around the front of the vehicle and held up a finger, telling me to wait. He skirted around me, reached into the door console, and pulled out a roll of black plastic, which he then draped all over the passenger’s seat, as well as the surrounding floorboard. It reminded me of that black plastic floor in Amelia Eaton’s murder room.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Silvio asked. “Oh, wait, no, you haven’t, because the giants shot them both off your van. Well, let me clue you in to one small fact: you are covered in blood.” Despite the fact that he was a vampire and had to drink blood to survive, his nostrils still flared in disgust. “You absolutely reek of it.”

  “So? How is that unusual?”

  “It’s not unusual. But you are not smearing it all over my brand-new van.”

  “Wait a second. This is a brand-new van? Like brand-new brand-new?” I leaned in closer and drew in a deep breath. Oh, yeah. It still had that new-car smell.

  “Yes,” Silvio said in a prim, proud tone. “It is brand-new brand-new. I just bought it last week, and I’ve put a grand total of one hundred and thirteen miles on it so far. Emergency or not, that’s much too early to dirty it up with bloodstains.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to wipe off my grimy face too, Mom?”

  “If I thought it would do any good.” His nostrils flared again. “It’s even in your hair. How did you get blood in your hair?”

  “Well, I stabbed this one giant in the neck—”

  Silvio snapped up his hand, cutting me off. “That was a rhetorical question, Gin. Totally a rhetorical question.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  After using up the better part of his roll of black plastic, Silvio finally let me slide into his precious new van.

  He stabbed his finger at me. “And don’t you dare touch anything.”

  I made a big show of tucking my hands into my armpits like I was a little kid. “Yes, Mom. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  Silvio harrumphed, but he was smiling as he shut the door. Then he went around the van, got into the driver’s seat, cranked the engine, and away we went.

  Twenty minutes later, he steered the van up the gravel driveway to my house and parked in his usual spot. But instead of immediately getting out, we both stayed in the vehicle, peering out the windshield in case my enemies had beaten us back here. I didn’t see anyone lurking in the woods, and the stones only muttered about the cold, windy weather like usual. Alanna wasn’t here. Neither was Tucker. Apparently, they both knew better than to take on the Spider in her home web.

  “It’s clear,” I said. “Let’s get this stuff unloaded.”

  “I’ll unload everything,” Silvio countered. “You go take a shower.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a little bit of blood. Besides, you’re a vampire. You’re supposed to like that sort of thing.”

  His gray eyes narrowed, and he stared me down, clearly disagreeing with my assessment. I sighed, but I gave in and followed his orders. By the time I had showered, washed the offensive blood out of my hair, and changed my clothes, Silvio had brought all the boxes into the den, along with the bookcase.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Owen was here too, carefully rapping on one side of the bookcase, searching for secret compartments. Silvio was doing the same thing on the other side.

  Thunk. Thunk-thunk. Thunk.

  They both tapped all around the case, but no hollow sounds rang out, and no panels, drawers, or slots popped open.

  Owen shook his head. “Nothing. No hiding spots at all. This thing is solid wood from top to bottom—”

  He caught sight of me standing in the doorway. He stopped rapping, came over, and hugged me tight. I stepped into his embrace and buried my face in his neck, letting his rich, metallic scent sink deep down into my lungs.

  “Silvio told me what happened.” Owen drew back and cupped my face in his hands, his violet gaze searching my gray one. “How are you?”

  I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him deep and hard. Owen pulled me closer and kissed me back. I didn’t know how long we would have stood there if Silvio hadn’t cleared his throat, reminding me that we needed to find whatever Alanna was after before she attacked us again.

  I kissed Owen again, then drew back. “Better now that you’re here. Ready for another treasure hunt?”

  He winked at me. “Always.”

  Silvio cleared his throat again. “Well, now that we’ve eliminated the bookcase, we can move on to the rest of the items.”

  He looked out over the cardboard boxes littering the den. His face brightened, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I do love a good puzzle.”

  His enthusiasm was as strange to me as that blood in my hair had been to him.

  “You are officially the oddest assistant ever,” I said. “Most people try to get out of work, you know. Not dive right into more.”

  Silvio sniffed. “Well, I have a higher standard than most people. I never slack off or shirk my duties. That’s what makes me a superior assistant.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Owen grinned. Yeah, me too.

  We all tore into a box and pulled out everything inside. I started with the one that contained the photo of my parents. I laid the picture on the corner of the coffee table, then moved on to the other objects inside. A glass bowl, a fancy fountain pen, other small knickknacks. This box contained the pretty decorations that had adorned the bookcase shelves. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I still studied each piece carefully.

  And I found something odd: a blue crystal paperweight that pulsed with elemental magic.

  The paperweight was shaped like a small dome with a flat bottom, so it would sit upright. It was about the size of an egg, but it felt much heavier than that. I frowned and held it up to the lights, studying the deep blue color and smooth, sparkling facets. And I realized that it wasn’t made of crystal. No, it was a sapphire—a very large and expensive sapphire, judging from the way the gemstone kept trilling about its own flashing beauty.

  But I was far more interested in the magic emanating from the jewel. It felt cold and hard, like my own Stone power. My frown deepened. Someone had coated the sapphire with Stone magic. But who? And why?

  It certainly hadn’t been Mab, since she’d had Fire magic. As an elemental, she would have been able to sense the Stone power just like I had, and it would have felt as wrong to her as Jo-Jo’s Air magic always felt to me. The sapphire practically pulsed with Stone magic, which would have made it a constant annoyance to the Fire elemental, like an alarm that screeched every time she walked by it. So why was it in with Mab’s things? And even more important, what was all that magic on the sapphire supposed to do?

  “Did you find something?” Owen asked, noticing me staring at the paperweight.

  “I don’t know.” I got up and set the sapphire on the fireplace mantel right next to the framed drawing of my mother’s snowflake rune so I wouldn’t lose track of it. “I’ll go back to it later. Let’s keep searching.”

  Mine had been the only box full of knickknacks, and I quickly repacked everything and set it aside. Then I tore into the box of books that was closest to me.

  Most of the books were fancy, expensive, leather-bound collector’s editions, the kind that folks bought for their home libraries and stuck on the shelves without actually reading them. I doubted that Mab had ever even touched any of the volumes, given how absolutely pristine they were.

  At least, they would have been pristine if not for all the bullets stuck in them, like metal bookmarks holding people’s reading places. Fresh anger surged through me. I didn’t care about ruining my clothes or even getting blood in my hair, but I never, ever cracked the spine of any book I read, e
ven if it was just a paperback. All these beautiful books ruined. I should kill Alanna for this alone.

  I pushed my anger aside and concentrated on the books. I went through each volume slowly and carefully, searching for dog-eared pages, loose pieces of paper tucked inside, highlighted passages, and any notes that might have been scribbled in the margins. I even checked the front and back covers, along with the spines, in case a letter might be hidden inside the flaps.

  Nothing—I found nothing. No marked sections, no notes, and no other indication that anyone had ever even opened the books.

  Disappointed, I finished with the first box and moved on to a second one. Beside me, Owen and Silvio did the same.

  But the books in my second box were the same as the ones in the first. Frustrated, I threw down my first edition of Huck Finn, which now had a nice, gaping hole right in the center of the front cover. The bullet was still lodged deep in the pages, and it winked at me like a metallic mocking eye.

  Owen noticed my disgusted look. He reached over, picked up the book, and stared at the bullet embedded inside. “You know what? I kind of like it. This book has character now.” He waggled it at me. “Bullets and books. That could be your new motto.”

  “You’d have to add blood to that,” Silvio quipped.

  I snorted, took the book from Owen, and set it aside, but I was smiling as I dove into the next box. He always knew what to say to make me feel better.

  Owen, Silvio, and I worked as fast as we could for the next hour, well aware that trouble could come knocking on my door at any moment. By now, Alanna had to be plotting her next move against me. She might not realize that I’d come home yet or that I had Mab’s things here, but it was only a matter of time before she did. I didn’t know how or when she would respond, but one thing was for sure, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Still, the hour passed quietly, and we managed to go through all the boxes and books without any interruptions or attacks.

  Silvio shook his head and set his last volume aside. “I’m sorry, Gin, but I don’t see anything special in these books. Sure, some of them are first editions and worth several thousand dollars. At least, the ones that aren’t riddled with bullet holes. But I’m not seeing anything that anyone would kill for, not even the most devoted bibliophile.”