Bitter Bite

by Jennifer Estep

  Too late.

  Deirdre marched down the hallway and kicked me in the ribs, forcing me to roll over onto my back and look up at her.

  “Well, now I realize why the others were all so worried about you.” A sneer twisted her lips. “At least killing you will earn me some favor with them.”

  Them? Who was them? And why were they so interested in me?

  Deirdre raised her hands, Ice daggers sprouting like blue-white spikes on her fingertips. There was no way I could avoid her magic. Not this time. So I reached for the scraps of my Stone power and hardened my skin as much as I could, even though I knew that it wasn’t going to be enough to stop her from skewering me—

  A blue ball of magic streaked through the air, slamming into the center of Deirdre’s chest and knocking her back.

  Footsteps pounded on the floor, and Bria, Owen, and Silvio emerged out of the lingering clouds of dust. Bria stepped in front of me, reared back her arm, and hurled another ball of her Ice magic at Deirdre. But the other elemental sent out a spray of daggers, and the two masses of magic crashed together in midair. Shards of elemental Ice shot out everywhere, embedding themselves in the floor, walls, and ceiling. The temperature dropped another ten degrees, and everything took on a pale blue, glassy sheen.

  But Bria kept right on attacking Deirdre, sending out blast after blast of magic, driving the other elemental back into the vault.

  “Get Gin!” Bria yelled, summoning up more magic in the palms of her hands.

  Owen and Silvio darted forward, grabbed me under the arms, and hoisted me to my feet. They started dragging me away from Bria and Deirdre, who was still in the vault. But she wouldn’t stay there for long. I could feel how Bria’s blasts were slowly weakening, while Deirdre’s counterattacks remained at their cold, steady level. In a minute, two tops, Bria would run out of magic, and then Deirdre would step out of the vault and kill her with one Icy wave of power.

  “No!” I yelled. “Let me go! I have to help Bria!”

  “Forget it!” Owen yelled back. “You’re in no position to help anyone!”

  He was right, but I still struggled against him and Silvio, even as they dragged me backward.

  Deirdre sent out another, larger blast of magic that had Bria ducking out of the way. She surged out of the vault, pressing her advantage and sending out spray after spray of Ice daggers. Bria knew when she was beaten, and she whipped around to follow us, but one of the daggers caught her in the back and sent her crashing to the floor. Her silverstone vest took the brunt of the blow, but she still grunted with pain.

  “Bria!” I screamed, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to save her. “Bria!”

  Deirdre looked at me, a smile curving her lips. She raised her hands and focused on Bria again, even as my sister tried to crawl away from her—

  Crack!

  Crack! Crack!

  Crack!

  Finn staggered up beside Owen, Silvio, and me, guns clutched in both of his Ice-burned hands. I didn’t know where he’d gotten the weapons, and I was amazed that he had the strength to even hold them, much less stand upright, given how he’d been tortured.

  The hail of bullets made Deirdre lurch to one side of the hallway. She snarled, whipped around, and reached for her Ice magic again, this time to blast Finn with it. But Finn was faster, and he snapped up his guns and sent more bullets flying in her direction. Owen and Silvio also reached for their guns, and Deirdre realized that she’d lost control of the fight.

  So the bitch turned and ran.

  She sprinted down the hallway toward the stairs as fast as she could. Finn snapped up one of his guns and squinted down the length of the barrel, aiming square at her back so he could take her down with one shot. He took a step forward to better his aim, and his foot slipped on a patch of Ice on the floor.

  Crack!

  The bullet bounced off the marble wall instead of punching into Deirdre’s back. But Finn wasn’t about to give up. He staggered forward, pulling the triggers on both of his guns now, but she was already gone. His legs went out from under him, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  “Finn!” I yelled. “Finn!”

  His head lolled in my direction, and he grinned up at me, his green eyes filled with pain—so much pain—that wasn’t all from his gruesome physical wounds.

  Owen lowered me, and then he and Silvio ran over to check on Bria, who was still groaning and trying to sit up. I crawled across the Ice-slickened floor to Finn.

  He grinned at me again, even as tears dripped down his bruised, bloody cheeks. “I’m sorry, Gin,” he mumbled through his split lips. “I’m so sorry. You were right, and I was wrong. She was using me the whole time . . . the whole damn time . . .”

  His voice choked off, and he closed his eyes, though the gesture couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks. The air was so cold that the drops froze on his face, glinting like diamonds against his bloody skin. He curled into a ball on the floor, sobs shaking his body.

  I lay down next to him, slid my good arm around his shoulders, and gave him a weak, understanding hug before my own strength deserted me.

  “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, trying to soothe him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  But things were anything but okay right now, and the tears kept streaming down and freezing on Finn’s face.

  27

  Once they made sure that Bria was okay, Owen and Silvio ran upstairs to the lobby, but Deirdre was long gone, along with a couple of duffel bags full of cash.

  Of course the bitch had escaped.

  But she wasn’t going to be able to hide for long.

  Not in Ashland. Not from the Spider.

  Silvio called Jo-Jo, who rushed over to the bank. Silvio and Owen had carried Finn and me upstairs, laying us both out on desks. Jo-Jo took one look at the Ice burns on Finn’s body, slapped her hands down onto his chest, and blasted him with her Air magic. I rolled my head to the side and watched her work, too cold and exhausted to do anything else.

  Once Jo-Jo was finished with Finn, she repeated the process on me. It hurt more than usual, since the dwarf had to slough off all the dead layers of skin that Deirdre had frozen solid with her Ice magic, but I clamped my lips shut and swallowed down my snarls. My pain was nothing compared with what Finn was going through right now.

  When I was healed, Jo-Jo helped me sit up. Owen, Silvio, and Bria were still in the lobby, going through the thieves’ pockets, looking for clues, but I didn’t see Finn.

  “Where is he?”

  Jo-Jo jerked her thumb at the door that led downstairs. “Back down in the vault, darling.”

  She stayed with the others, but I trudged downstairs. I found Finn sitting in the middle of the ruined vault, picking through the rubble, scooping up the loose, bloody diamonds, and arranging them in a neat little pile.

  Jo-Jo had healed all those ugly blue-white burns on his skin, but he was still a mess. Blood, dust, and other filth covered his torn clothes, which were wet in spots from the elemental Ice that had melted and soaked into the fabric. His dark brown hair was rumpled, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and dried blood speckled his face like freckles. Finn looked nothing at all like his usual slick, charming self, but the thing that worried me most was the dull hurt shimmering in his eyes—the sort of soul-deep, heart-rending, bone-weary hurt that you never quite got over.

  The same sort of hurt that Deirdre had inflicted on Fletcher all those years ago.

  Finn sighed. “What a fucking mess. Mosley and the rest of the higher-ups are going to have conniptions when they find out about this.”

  “They don’t have to know anything,” I said. “Everyone who saw us here is dead, except Deirdre. We could just walk out of here and pretend we didn’t know anything about what happened.”

  “I can’t do that. Not when this is all my fault. I’m the one who helped Deirdre get inside the bank. She told me that someone had tried to rob the exhibit and that the insurance company was moving t
he jewelry here.” He picked another diamond out of the rubble and placed it on his stack. “So I hurried over here like her little lapdog and let her waltz right into the lobby with Santos and his men. I knew all the guards they killed. Every single one of them. Nice guys. They didn’t deserve this. Neither do their families.”

  “Deirdre and Santos storming in here and killing the guards, that’s not on you. None of this is on you. It was their plan, not yours.”

  “Of course it is.” His mouth twisted. “It’s all on me. And do you know what the really sad part is?”

  I shook my head.

  Finn picked another loose diamond out of the rubble. “Deep down, I knew that you were right. That Mama—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “That Deirdre was up to something. She was just too good to be true, but I ignored it. I ignored your warnings, my own gut instincts, everything.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, it is. Because I knew that she was up to something. I just didn’t care what it was.”

  “We’ll find her,” I said. “Deirdre won’t get away with this. Not what she did here at the bank and especially not what she did to you. Not the torture, not the lies, none of it. I promise you that.”

  Finn gave me a distracted nod. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Gin.”

  I laid my hand on his shoulder, letting him know that I was here for him. He smiled at me, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he went back to picking through the rubble. I looked at the diamonds that he’d already gathered. I didn’t know if he’d done it subconsciously or not, but he’d arranged the loose, bloody stones into a familiar shape.

  The diamonds formed a jagged, shattered heart, just like Finn’s.

  * * *

  Finn picked up a few more diamonds while I fished my knives out of the rubble. Then I coaxed him back upstairs. I asked again if he wanted to leave, but he said no and called Stuart Mosley. Bria pulled out her phone, called Xavier, and told him what had happened, then contacted her own bosses.

  “They’ll be here soon,” she said, after she ended the call. “Probably fifteen minutes, tops.”

  “You guys should go,” Finn said, his voice that same dull monotone as before. “No need for you to get dragged any deeper into this.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head, not quite looking at me or anyone else.

  “You’ve done enough for me today. Just go, Gin. Please?”

  I didn’t like it, but he was right. Us sticking around would just lead to all sorts of awkward questions. I squeezed his shoulder again. Finn gave me the same weak smile he had down in the vault, then turned away, staring out over the blood and bodies in the lobby.

  Bria stayed behind with Finn, and Owen, Silvio, Jo-Jo, and I left the bank.

  “He’ll be all right,” Jo-Jo said, once we were outside. “He just needs some time.”

  I nodded, knowing that she was right. The dwarf hugged me, then headed off to her car to drive back to her salon. Owen, Silvio, and I went back to the parking garage.

  “I’m going to the Pork Pit,” Silvio said. “Spread the word and get people to start looking for Deirdre.”

  If Deirdre was smart, she was already on her way out of town, but I didn’t mention that. “Good idea. Thank you, Silvio.”

  The vampire nodded, got into his car, and drove off.

  I climbed into Owen’s car with him, and we sat there. I didn’t say anything, and he didn’t try to prod me into a conversation. Instead, he reached over and took my hand in his. Owen knew that Finn wasn’t the only one who was hurting and heartsick.

  “I didn’t want to be right about her,” I whispered. “I know that I didn’t help matters, acting the way I did toward Deirdre, but I didn’t want to be right. I didn’t want Fletcher to be right. I didn’t want her to hurt Finn.”

  “I know, Gin,” Owen said. “I know.”

  I curled my fingers into his, soaking up all the warmth, comfort, and support he had to offer. Then I let go and buckled my seat belt.

  “Will you drive me somewhere?”

  Owen frowned. “You don’t want to stay here? See what the cops do? Make sure that Finn’s okay?”

  I shook my head. “Bria will take care of him. There’s nothing else I can do here.”

  “All right, then.” Owen cranked the engine. “Where to?”

  I rattled off an address. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he threw the car into gear and left the garage.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into another parking garage, this one underground, and we took the elevator up to the lobby. I made a call to the doorman’s boss—Jade Jamison, an underworld figure that I was friendly with—who was happy to tell her guy to give me access to whatever I wanted. The doorman put his key in the elevator, and Owen and I rode it all the way up to the top floor of the Peach Blossom.

  The doors slid back, revealing Deirdre’s penthouse.

  Knife in hand, I stepped out of the elevator and into the suite. Owen was right beside me, gripping a gun and ready to shoot anyone who came at us. After a quick once-over, we saw that no one was in the kitchen or the living room, and no one was hiding in the bedrooms and bathrooms. Even more telling, I didn’t feel so much as the faintest trace of Deirdre’s Ice magic. When we’d cleared the suite, Owen and I went back to the living room.

  That was where the mess was.

  Deirdre must have come straight back here after the disaster at the bank, because a suitcase was sitting on one of the white sofas, clothes haphazardly sticking out of it. More luggage littered the rest of the living-room floor, all of it open, with clothes, shoes, jewelry, and makeup bristling out of the tops of the bags. It looked as though Deirdre had grabbed her things and tossed them into the suitcases, not caring where or how they landed.

  Someone, most likely Deirdre, had dropped a heart-shaped perfume bottle onto the floor, breaking it into half a dozen jagged pieces. The overpowering scent of peonies filling the air reminded me of the broken bottle that had been in Fletcher’s casket box.

  Owen poked his gun down into one of the suitcases, making bottles of makeup, hair gel, and nail polish rattle together. “Looks like she was in a hurry to leave.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “But she didn’t take any of her stuff with her. Why not?”

  He shrugged. He didn’t know any more than I did.

  We moved through the rest of the penthouse, but it was clean, except for the mess in the living room. No blood, no bodies, nothing that would indicate a struggle or that Deirdre had left against her will. If the luggage and her things had been gone, I would have assumed that she’d already skipped town. But Mama Dee wasn’t the kind of woman to leave so much as a toothbrush behind. Since her bags were still here, that meant she was most likely still in Ashland. So where had she gone? And why had she left in such a hurry?

  I didn’t know, but I was going to find the answers—and her.

  For Finn.

  28

  Unfortunately, the answers that I wanted, and the ones that Finn needed, were much harder to come by than I expected.

  Despite all the feelers that Silvio put out, along with a hefty reward from yours truly for information about Deirdre’s whereabouts, we got exactly nowhere trying to track her down. It was like she had vanished into thin air. She was simply gone, with no trail to follow. I didn’t hear so much as a whisper about where she—or her body—might be.

  The only bright spot was that things didn’t go nearly as badly for Finn as they could have. Stuart Mosley was plenty pissed that someone had tried to rob his bank, but Bria managed to spin the story that Finn had been taken hostage and had bravely fought off the thieves until help arrived. Mallory Parker also put in a good word for Finn, since she was all buddy-buddy with Mosley and an esteemed bank client herself. But most important, Mosley didn’t want anyone to know just how close Deirdre and Santos had come to grabbing everything in the vault. So he blamed it all on a gas leak and subsequent explosion, hired a crew from Vaughn Const
ruction, made everyone from the construction workers to the cops sign confidentiality agreements, and got them to clean up the mess.

  Still, the more time passed and the more things got back to normal, the more worried I became. I didn’t particularly care if someone had gotten to the Ice elemental before me. I just wanted to know with absolute certainty that Deirdre was dead and rotting, not lurking in some dark corner of Ashland waiting to strike back at me—or, worse, Finn.

  “You’re . . . cranky,” Silvio said as I slammed some dirty dishes into one of the sinks. “I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you cranky before.”

  I gave the vampire a dark glare, but he merely quirked his eyebrows in a chiding response and went back to his tablet.

  It was Tuesday, three days after the bank robbery, and just after seven at the Pork Pit. It was a slow night, given the cold and increasing flakes of snow outside, and I was getting ready to close up. I’d told Silvio that he could go home an hour ago, but he’d insisted on staying, just in case someone called in with a tip about Deirdre. But no one had, and no one was going to. Deirdre was a ghost, until she either decided to lash out at us again or someone uncovered her body in a shallow grave. I was hoping for the latter, although I didn’t know anyone who wanted her dead as much as I did.

  Still, my worry over Deirdre was nothing compared with my worry over Finn.

  Despite everything he was dealing with at the bank, Finn had still come to the Pork Pit every day for lunch, just like he had with Deirdre. He seemed to have aged a decade over the last few days. Everything about him was dull, flat, and lifeless, and he had lost the vibrancy and cheer that made him, well, Finn. It was as though Deirdre had reached inside him and scooped out his essence, his heart, leaving nothing behind but a brittle, hollow shell.

  Making him a Tin Man, just like Fletcher had been.

  Finn didn’t laugh or smile or joke, and he barely picked at his food, even though I made all his favorites, including triple chocolate milkshakes. More than once, I looked at Finn to find him with his fork in his hand, staring over at the corner booth where he and Deirdre had sat so many times, a blank look on his face. Mama Dee had really done a number on him, and I had no idea how to help him.