Deadly Sting

by Jennifer Estep

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He nodded and straightened up. “Yeah, just tired. Using my magic on the door was hard—one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” He jerked his head at the opening. “But it worked just like Clementine said it would.”

  “Well, then,” I said. “Let’s finish the job for her and see what’s inside.”

  * * *

  The inside of the vault resembled something you’d see in a bank rather than a museum. A series of metal boxes lined one of the walls, while sturdy metal shelves took up two others. Three long tables cut through the center of the area, although their surfaces were clean and empty, I supposed so that the museum staff could open the metal boxes and sort through their contents there.

  “Well, I certainly don’t see any piles of gold,” I said. “Do you?”

  Owen shook his head.

  Oh, there were valuables in the vault, and not just the expected paintings and sculptures. A pale jade elephant adorned with gold and emeralds peeped out from one of the shelves, right next to a small onyx statue of a mythological Nemean prowler, its ruby eyes flashing with some evil inner fire. A small antique violin gleamed inside an open case, while a diamond choker perched on a blue velvet stand, the gemstones proudly singing about their own exquisite clarity. The cluster of stones in the middle and the long, swooping lines of the necklace almost made it look like a spider spinning a web of diamonds.

  It looked like Mab wasn’t the only power player in Ashland who had stashed her shinies at Briartop. But there was no hoard of gold and nothing that looked like it was remotely worth the risk Clementine and her giants had taken in breaking in here, versus the art they had already swiped from the rest of the museum.

  “If it wasn’t gold, then what is Clementine really after?” Owen asked, voicing my thoughts.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, but start looking. Whatever it is, we need to find it and get out of here before Clementine and her men come back.”

  Owen started looking at the white labels on the metal boxes along the left wall, while I took the opposite side of the vault, scanning first one shelf, then another. All the while, I was counting off the seconds in my head. It wouldn’t be too long before Clementine realized that she’d been tricked and headed back this way. We needed to be out of the vault by then, or we were dead. But we also needed to find whatever she was after. Otherwise, we’d have no leverage to use to free the hostages.

  A minute passed, then two. But all I saw were paintings, jewelry, more small statues, and a couture dress made of crimson feathers and adorned with rubies that was draped over a mannequin in the back corner. Well, Finn certainly would have considered that valuable enough to store inside the vault. And it was even in my color. Heh.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  Owen shook his head. “Nothing that jumps out at me. You?”

  “Same.”

  Owen turned toward the wall of boxes again, but I took a step back and examined the vault. We could look for an hour and not find what Clementine had been after, and the giant and her men would return any second. As my gaze flicked from one shelf to another, I realized something important, something I should have remembered before now: that the inside of the vault was made of marble, just like the rest of the museum. An idea popped into my head of a way that I could at least narrow down our search area. I leaned forward, laid my hand on the wall closest to me, and reached out with my magic, concentrating on all the whispers of the stone.

  The stone walls hummed with various emotions, mostly lofty pride and haughty arrogance at all the precious things they had housed and kept safe over the years. But those feelings were also mixed with notes of sweet relief, as the museum staff had been glad when certain items had been moved elsewhere so they wouldn’t be held responsible for them anymore. I reached for more of my magic and let myself sink even deeper into the stone, straining to hear every single thing I could from the marbles walls, every harsh note, every soft whisper, every sly murmur.

  And I finally found something—a suspicious mutter that was just a little louder and just a little sharper than all the others. I trailed my fingers over the smooth stone, following the echo of that mutter like notes on a roll of sheet music. The sound led me all the way over to a shelf in the back of the vault. To my surprise, there was only one item on this shelf: a tube made out of ebony.

  Small, thin, lightweight. There was nothing extraordinary about the tube, except for the design inlaid in the center of the black wood, a thumbnail-size ruby surrounded by several wavy golden rays.

  A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab Monroe’s personal rune.

  “I found it,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” Owen asked, coming around one of the tables to where I was.

  My fingers closed over the tube, and that mutter in the marble took on an even uglier, darker, harsher note. “I’m sure.”

  “What do you think it is?” he asked. “A portrait? Maybe some sort of small painting?”

  I shrugged and stuffed the tube into one of the pouches on my stolen utility belt. I also took a moment to snag the diamond necklace I’d noticed earlier and dropped that inside the pouch too. “Don’t know. We can look at it later. Right now, we need to move.”

  17

  Owen followed me out of the vault. I stopped in the exterior chamber long enough to do a quick pat-down of the three dead giants. Key cards, a couple of metal batons, pepper spray, walkie-talkies. Same old, same old. Owen picked up two of the men’s guns, while I handed him all the extra ammo I found stuffed in their pockets. He reloaded both weapons before tucking one against the small of his back and keeping the other one in his hand at the ready. He nodded at me, and together we crept up to the exterior door and peeked outside.

  I didn’t see anyone in the hallway, but I heard something just as worrisome—the steady thud-thud-thud of footsteps, growing louder and louder as they pounded in this direction.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered. “They’re headed this way.”

  Owen nodded again and followed me into the hallway. I headed right, away from the sound of the footsteps, and we ran in that direction. What followed was a desperate series of zigzags as we tried to avoid the giants. Clementine’s men were everywhere we turned, walkie-talkies screeching as they yelled instructions at each other and searched for whoever or whatever had caused the explosion. Three times we started down a hallway only to pull up short and backtrack when we caught a glimpse of a couple of giants lurking at the far end, guns up and ready to fire at the slightest movement. Oh, yes. Everyone knew that I was here now.

  There was no way we could break through the perimeter they’d set up without making a whole lot of noise and bringing them all down on top of us, so Owen and I ended up crouching behind a doorway in a room down the hall from the vault entrance. It was far too close to the vault and the main force of giants in the rotunda for my liking, but all the other exits from this part of the museum had been cut off. We’d just have to hunker down and see what happened.

  We didn’t have long to wait. We’d just slid into the shadows when Clementine ran down the hallway, with Opal and Dixon following her. The three giants rushed through the open door that led into the vault area.

  “Dammit!” Clementine’s scream erupted out of the chamber a minute later.

  I grinned. Such a satisfying sound. Always nice when you could make your enemies bellow with anger. Across from me, Owen gave me a sly wink.

  A moment later, Clementine stormed out of the vault entrance and back into the hallway. Opal and Dixon followed her, although the two younger giants were careful to keep out of arm’s reach of her. A good idea, on their part.

  Clementine raised her walkie-talkie to her lips. “Somebody go out front and see if the cops are here. Right now.”

  “It’s not the cops,” one giant answered her a few seconds later. “I’m out by the moving trucks, and there’s no one here. No police cars, no cops, nobody. All of the art is still inside the
truck, and it doesn’t look like anything’s been stolen. Er . . . re-stolen.”

  “Roger that. Stand by for further instructions.” Clementine clicked off her walkie-talkie and stuck it back onto her belt.

  She paced back and forth for a few seconds before whirling around and facing Opal and Dixon again. Her features, which I’d thought so attractive before, were twisted and mottled with purple rage. Lips flat, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed to slits.

  Opal and Dixon glanced at each other and took another step back. Dixon swallowed, and Opal wiped a bit of nervous sweat off her forehead.

  “How the hell could this happen?” Clementine finally barked at them.

  “Now, Mama, just calm down,” Opal said, holding her hands palms up in a placating gesture. “I’m sure we’ll get this all figured out. Whoever set off that bomb couldn’t have gotten far. It’s not the cops, so that’s a good thing. We’ll take care of whoever it is.”

  Clementine cocked her head to one side, and she advanced on Opal, who immediately sucked in a breath and plastered herself against the wall. Dixon scooted out of the way. Opal glanced at her cousin for help, but he smirked at her. Opal sighed and turned her head back in her mama’s direction.

  Clementine coldly eyed her daughter. After a moment, she drew back her fist. Opal shuddered, waiting for the blow—but it never came.

  Instead, Clementine slammed her hand into the wall beside Opal’s head. The sharp, stinging crack reverberated down the hallway, seeming almost as loud as the bomb blast. But the giant didn’t stop with just one punch. Again and again, Clementine rammed her fist into the marble inches away from her daughter’s head. Opal stood there and watched her. Mouth open, nostrils flared, eyes wide. Her expression a far more terrified version of her mother’s murderous one.

  Finally, Clementine stopped her assault on the wall and glared at her daughter once more.

  “I don’t care about the damn bomb,” Clementine said, every word as sharp and clipped as the punches she’d just plowed into the wall. “What I do care about is the fact that someone used it to lure us away from Grayson and the vault. Something that is your fault, my darling girl, since you assured me that everyone was corralled inside the rotunda.”

  “Yeah, Opal.” Dixon sneered, sidling up to Clementine’s side. “That was your job. Looks like you’re the screw-up tonight. How does it feel, cuz?”

  Clementine immediately turned on her nephew, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him off the ground. She slammed him back into the wall and kept him there.

  I eyed Dixon’s feet, which were dangling six inches above the floor. Dixon was no lightweight, but Clementine was holding him up with one hand like he didn’t weigh any more than a wet kitten. My gaze flicked to the basketball-size dent she’d punched into the marble wall. Impressive, indeed.

  “And you, you little weasel,” Clementine growled. “You can’t do anything without half-assing it or fucking it up completely. Where do you think our surprise guest got the bomb from? My guess is the bridge or one of the moving trucks. Which means that whoever it is has probably been following you around for who knows how long, watching you check the charges with your phone, and you were too stupid to even notice.”

  Dixon’s mouth opened and closed, and opened and closed again, but the only sound that came out was a faint, pitiful squeak, the kind a rabbit might make before a wolf snapped its jaws around the rabbit’s throat. Clementine shook him once, then dropped her hand and stepped back. Dixon landed in a heap on the floor, a perfect red handprint ringing his throat like a rash.

  “We’ll fix it, Mama,” Opal said, her voice a little higher and more desperate than before. “We’ll find whoever’s responsible for this and make them pay.”

  “You’d better hope so,” Clementine growled. “You’d both damn well better hope so.”

  Opal vigorously nodded, trembling as badly as a bobblehead doll someone had set to bouncing.

  More footsteps sounded, saving Opal and Dixon from any more of Clementine’s wrath—at least for the moment. The giant smoothed out her features and turned to face the two men who were running down the hallway toward her.

  “Anything?” she asked when they finally stopped in front of her.

  They both shook their heads. Like Opal and Dixon, the giants took obvious care to stay out of reach of her long arms. Smart move, given the murderous rage that still glinted in her hazel eyes.

  Clementine raised her walkie-talkie to her lips. “All teams, report in.”

  “Team one, here.”

  “Team two, here.”

  And on and on it went, with the giants reporting back to Clementine—all except the ones I’d killed.

  When Clementine realized that she couldn’t raise her people in the security center or the two who’d been down by the bridge, she let out another loud curse. She lowered her walkie-talkie and stabbed her finger at the men standing in front of her.

  “You two, come with me,” she growled before glaring at Opal and Dixon. “You two, stay here and start organizing a search. I want to know who was in the vault, how many of them there are, everything they took, and where they and Grayson are now. So move! Now!”

  Opal and Dixon scurried back into the vault area to do her bidding. Clementine marched off down the hallway with the other two giants, heading away from Owen and me. I waited until I was sure she wasn’t coming back, then looked at Owen.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s get while the getting’s good.”

  * * *

  The giants had started their search from the vault and the rotunda, spreading out toward the exits. They didn’t bother checking behind them, so Owen and I were able to trail along in their wake, weapons in hand, eyes open in case any of them doubled back on their search pattern.

  “We need to get outside,” I told Owen. “Bria and Xavier should be here soon. Jo-Jo too. She can heal Phillip after we take out the guards in the rotunda.”

  “If he’s even still alive,” Owen said, his forehead creasing with worry.

  I shrugged. Another twenty minutes had passed since I’d first gone into the vault after Owen, but there was nothing I could do about the time that just kept tick-tick-ticking away. First, I had to get Owen to safety. Then I’d worry about rescuing Phillip and the others.

  Finn would realize that I was planning something, though. Knowing that I was still alive, he would have figured that I was up to my usual tricks as soon as I set off that bomb. He’d help Eva, Roslyn, and Phillip until we could free them. Finn might be selfish, flighty, and infuriating and have an inflated sense of his own self-worth, but if there was one thing I could always count on, it was for him to be there when the chips were down—and they were certainly down tonight.

  Finally, a pair of guards we’d been following reached a set of exit doors and checked them to make sure they were locked. Owen and I slipped into one of the rooms that branched off from the hallway and looked out the doorway at the giants, keeping an eye on them.

  “West exit secure,” one of the guards said into his radio. “We haven’t seen anyone. Haven’t found any more bombs either.”

  After a moment, Clementine’s voice crackled back. “Well, retrace your steps and keep searching. They have to be in the museum somewhere. Go back through and look again. Check every room—I want them found. Now. Got it?”

  “Understood,” the giant said, and clipped the device back onto his belt. He jerked his head at the other man. “Come on. You heard her. She wants us to keep searching.”

  Damn and double damn. I’d hoped that Clementine would order the giants to start sweeping the grounds. That way, Owen and I would have been able to follow them outside, kill them, and slip into the gardens before anyone was the wiser. Instead, the two men turned and headed back in our direction, which meant there was nowhere for us to go.

  “Gin?” Owen whispered, raising his gun. “What do you want to do?”

  We couldn’t backtrack deeper into the museum without risking running in
to more giants, and I didn’t want to try to take out the two men in front of us—not now, when they were on high alert, guns drawn and ready to shoot at the first hint of trouble. Oh, we could kill the giants, but I doubted we could do it quickly or quietly enough to make it outside before the others heard the commotion and came running. If Clementine and her men surrounded us, we were done—simple as that.

  My eyes flicked around the room we were in. The lights were turned down in here, casting everything in soft shadows. The giants hadn’t looted this area yet, so paintings still covered the walls, and several statues squatted out in the middle of the open floor. But none of them was big enough for us to hide behind, not even for the few seconds it would take to spring a surprise attack. I’d thought we might have to stand our ground by the doorway and risk going at the giants head-on after all, when I spotted a larger statue in the very back of the room.

  “Over there.” I grabbed Owen’s arm and tugged him in that direction.

  The statue was a life-size scene, some twenty feet wide, and featured a boy in a thatched hat and overalls sitting down and holding a pole as though he were fishing in the pond of white rock in front of him. Next to him, a girl wearing a gingham dress sat on a rope swing, her feet pulled back and her bare toes digging into the ground as if she were about to launch herself up into the air. A maple tree arched over the two of them, its branches stretching up and down, almost like it was reaching out to hug the boy and the girl, before the limbs ran together and formed the back of the piece. Well, it definitely wasn’t abstract art; Bria would approve.

  I sprinted to the right. The statue was set flush with the wall, so we couldn’t hide behind it. I’d just turned back to Owen to tell him to get ready to fight after all, when I noticed a shadow on the statue that looked a little deeper and darker than the others. I stepped up onto the carved stone and peered around the girl on her swing. Sure enough, there was a slight gap between the tree trunk and the rock wall that formed the back of the statue. Not exactly the best or most creative hiding place, but it would have to do.