White stars exploded in my eyes, my head snapped back, and I hit the floor. I tried to grab hold of my Stone magic to protect myself from further assault, but my face and head were pounding, and I couldn’t quite get a grip on it.
Emery loomed over me. “I’ve been wanting to squash you for a long time now, Spider. Looks like I’m finally getting my chance.”
She drew back her foot and kicked me in the face. More white stars exploded in my eyes, but they almost instantly turned to black.
Lights out.
* * *
“I didn’t realize y’all were going out tonight,” a soft feminine voice drawled.
Fletcher shrugged. “It was a last-minute thing.”
I snorted. That was an understatement.
Jo-Jo heard the derisive sound and glanced over at me, her eyebrows raised in curiosity, but I shrugged back.
An hour ago, Fletcher and I had been running for our lives through the woods behind Wade Brockton’s house, but we had escaped, gotten into my car, and driven over to Jo-Jo’s house.
The dwarf had already healed my cuts, bumps, and bruises, and she was now sitting next to Fletcher, who was lying in one of the cherry-red salon chairs. Jo-Jo reached for her Air magic and moved her hand back and forth over Fletcher’s face, using her power to stitch the Tin Man back together again. The sharp, pricking feel of her Air magic made me shift in my chair, but it didn’t bother me as much as usual. Maybe that was because everything seemed small and insignificant compared to how close I’d come to losing Fletcher.
A few minutes later, Jo-Jo healed the last of Fletcher’s injuries. She dropped her hand and released her magic. “There you go, darling. Good as new.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Jo-Jo.”
She smiled at him, then looked over at me. She must have seen the worry in my grim face and the questions in my eyes, because her eyebrows rose again. I didn’t say anything. Neither did Fletcher.
Jo-Jo cleared her throat and got to her feet. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Then I’ll make some chicory coffee for you, Fletcher, and some hot chocolate for Gin.”
She left the salon, and the wooden steps creaked as she headed upstairs. A few seconds later, a door shut, and water started running in one of the bathrooms.
“That was a close call tonight, eh?” Fletcher finally said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you going to tell me who those giants work for? And why their boss wanted you dead? After he had you tortured for information?”
Fletcher shook his head. “You’re better off not knowing. Trust me on that.”
“Trust you?” I gave him a disgusted look. “I did trust you. Right up until you left the Pork Pit to assassinate a man who was just trying to save his sick daughter. A man who is now dead, apparently due to you and your machinations.”
I gave him another disgusted look, then stormed out of the salon. I thought about stomping upstairs, but Sophia was asleep in her bedroom, and I didn’t want to wake her. So I settled for striding down the hallway and going out onto the front porch. I really, really, really wanted to slam the front door behind me to let out some of my anger, but I closed it softly instead. Just because I was pissed off was no reason to damage Jo-Jo’s door.
She wasn’t the one who had lied to me.
It was a bitterly cold night, but I was still so angry that the chill didn’t bother me. I paced back and forth, my boots snapping against the wooden boards—
Creak.
The loud screech made me grimace. I’d forgotten about the old creaky board at the top of the porch steps. If my quick, steady pacing hadn’t woken Sophia, then that probably had. But there was nothing I could do about it now, so I sighed, sat down on the steps, and leaned my shoulder against the railing.
A few seconds later, the front door eased open, and Fletcher crossed the porch. He too stepped on that creaky board and grimaced at the loud noise it made.
“I keep meaning to fix that,” he said, sitting down across from me on the steps.
I didn’t respond. Fletcher sighed and leaned his shoulder against the opposite side of the porch railing.
“It’s a long, sad story, but here’s the gist of it. I got involved with some folks who weren’t who I thought they were,” he said in a low, tired voice. “I did a lot of jobs for this one guy over the years. Some of them were good jobs, and I took out a lot of nasty folks who had hurt other people.”
Despite my anger, I couldn’t help but ask the obvious question. “But?”
Fletcher sighed again, and his entire body sagged. “But I slowly realized the man I was working for was the worst of the worst. He manipulated me for a long time. Telling me all the lies I wanted to hear.”
I frowned, wondering who could have hoodwinked Fletcher so thoroughly, but I didn’t have any room to judge. Not too long ago, I had killed an innocent man named Cesar Vaughn because his son, Sebastian, had tricked me into believing that Cesar had been abusing his daughter, Charlotte.
“You made a mistake,” I said in a calmer, kinder voice. “It happens.”
Fletcher nodded, but his mouth still twisted with disgust. “Yeah. But I was hurt and angry and arrogant, and I never thought this sort of thing could happen to me. That I could be so completely, utterly fooled.”
His head dropped, and he tucked his chin to his chest, like a turtle trying to pull the vulnerable part of itself back into its shell.
“So you worked for this horrible mystery man,” I said. “How does the accountant fit in?”
“I told you the truth. Wade Brockton needed money for his daughter’s medical care, so he started embezzling from this man we both worked for. A few months ago, I caught wind of what Wade was doing. I should have told him right then and there to knock it off, to return as much of the money as he could, leave town, and never come back.”
“But?”
Fletcher sighed again. “But I didn’t. Instead, I saw Wade’s stealing as an opportunity to finally free myself from this other man, to make him leave me alone once and for all.”
“What happened?”
He let out a breath, as if he was steeling himself for his next confession. “I asked Wade to embezzle more money—a whole lot more money. I wanted to take away as much of it as I could from my enemy. But I got greedy, other people noticed the theft, and it ended up costing Wade his life. Now his daughter has to grow up without her father. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Sympathy filled me, and I reached over and grabbed his hand. “You made a mistake, just like I did with Sebastian Vaughn.”
“I know.” Fletcher fell silent for a moment, then fixed his green gaze on me. “But we’re the kind of people who can’t afford to make mistakes, Gin. If nothing else good comes from this, then remember that. We might not be richer or stronger than our enemies, so we have to be smarter, and we have to fight smarter. Otherwise, good people get hurt, good people die.”
He kept his gaze steady on mine and squeezed my hand, his wrinkled fingers warming my own.
I nodded, telling him that I understood and would take his words, his warning, to heart. “But what about the mystery man? The one you tried to kill tonight?”
Fletcher shook his head. “Don’t worry about him, Gin. Thanks to Wade, I have a plan that will finally get rid of this man. He’s never going to bother me again.” The old man’s mouth twisted. “It will cost the bastard too much if he does.”
His cryptic words puzzled me, but I didn’t ask Fletcher about his plan. I doubted he would tell me, since he hadn’t even said the mystery man’s name. Once again, I wondered exactly who this man was, but that seemed to be a secret Fletcher was determined to keep.
The old man gently tugged his hand out of mine. He chewed on his lip, thinking, then plucked a silverstone knife out of his boot. Fletcher stabbed the point of the knife into the wood in the corner of the creaky board we were still sitting on.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Leaving you a remind
er,” he murmured, dragging the knife through the wood.
He quickly finished with the blade, then brushed away the wood chips. I leaned forward and squinted at the symbol he’d carved into the board—a small circle surrounded by eight thin rays.
My spider rune.
I traced my fingers over the symbol, the rough edges of the wood pricking my skin. “Why my spider rune?”
Fletcher looked at me, his face serious. “So you’ll never forget what we talked about. So if you’re ever feeling unsure of yourself or something you’re about to do, you can sit down, look at this rune, and remember this night.” He hesitated. “And if something ever happens to me, then you can come here and remember old Fletcher.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” I said in a fierce voice. “Not even if I have to kill this mystery man myself.”
Fletcher smiled a little at my poison promise, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, Gin. I have a nasty habit of surviving. Besides, someone is helping me. Someone who hates this man just as much as I do.”
Fletcher was working with someone else? Who? And why did they hate the mystery man?
He stared at me, his green gaze steady on mine. “Promise me that you’ll remember what we talked about. Promise me that you won’t make the same mistakes I did. That you’ll always try to fight smarter than your enemies.”
“I promise,” I whispered.
The winter wind whistled across the porch, tearing my words away, although I could still hear their faint echoes in my mind.
Fletcher nodded. “Good. Now, let’s go inside and get some of Jo-Jo’s chicory coffee and hot chocolate. My old bones could really use it tonight.”
We both got to our feet. I went over to the front door, then stopped and glanced back over my shoulder. Fletcher was still standing by the porch steps, staring down at my spider rune carved into the wood.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
He looked up at me and smiled again. “Nah.”
Fletcher stepped away from the creaky board, and we headed into the house together…
For a moment, I could have sworn that I heard the old man’s footsteps on the porch. Then the sound came again, and again, and again. I was definitely hearing footsteps, only they weren’t Fletcher’s quick, light tread. No, these footsteps were much louder and heavier…like they belonged to Emery Slater and her men.
I jerked the rest of the way awake. Two giants were clutching my arms and carrying me between them like a sack of potatoes. Emery was walking in front of us, with more giants plodding along behind us.
The constant shifting of my body between the two giants made my head ache and more white stars explode in my eyes. My wounded arm also throbbed at the motions, but I pushed the pain away, ignored the stars, and glanced around, trying to figure out where we were.
Wide, spacious rooms, antique furniture, pretty plaster lining the ceilings. My stomach twisted. We were in the Mitchell family mansion.
We approached a staircase. I expected the giants to haul me up to Mason’s study, but they walked by the steps. My stomach twisted a little more. I knew where we were headed.
Eventually, Emery stepped through a door, and we trooped outside onto the large stone terrace at the back of the mansion. She held up her fist, calling a halt.
The giants set me down on my feet, and I yanked out of their grasp. Those two men stepped back and drew their guns, as did all the others. I looked from one face to another, but I didn’t recognize any of the men, and every giant wore a black suit. These were Emery’s goons. None of Liam Carter’s people were here.
“Your uncle wants to see you,” Emery purred, drawing her own gun. “Now, come along, and don’t do anything stupid, or my men will shoot you.”
I didn’t have a choice, so I shuffled forward. Emery led me across the lawn, through the woods, and over to the Circle family cemetery. My stomach twisted for a third time. Of course, Mason would bring me here so he could kill me, just like he had killed my father.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious or what time it was, but the sun had set, and the cold night had already taken hold of the landscape. Darkness cloaked the surrounding woods, but the wrought-iron torches planted at the corners of the pavilion were all lit, like fireflies suspended in glass globes. The soft golden glows made the tops of the tombstones and crosses glimmer, even as they cast the rest of the markers in deep shadows.
More giants with guns ringed the front half of the cemetery. Liam Carter was also here, with Hugh Tucker standing next to him. My gaze flicked past them. Mason was deeper in the cemetery, standing in front of the pavilion, his back turned to me.
Emery waved her hand, telling me to walk over to Mason, so I did. She followed me, as did Liam and Tucker and several of the giants. Emery and Liam moved so they were standing off to the side, but Tucker strode up and stopped right next to my uncle.
My face, head, and arm were still pounding, but I ruthlessly pushed the pain away again and reached for my Stone magic, making sure I had a good, solid grip on it.
Mason stared at his sick shrine a moment longer, then faced me. “I was just admiring your father’s tomb. I’ve always loved how the gray stone glows at night, almost like a moon.”
“Why did you bring me here?” I growled. “What do you want now?”
He shrugged. “I want what I’ve always wanted, Gin. The ledger.”
I frowned. “But I gave you the ledger yesterday at the Pork Pit.”
Mason sighed and shook his head. “You’re even more like your father than I thought. Nothing but lies ever comes out of your lips.”
My frown deepened. I truly had no idea what he was talking about. Mason snapped his fingers, and Tucker stepped a little closer to him. I hadn’t noticed it before, but Tucker was holding the black ledger. He handed the book to Mason, who waggled it at me.
“This is the ledger you gave me, the one you claim to have found in this cemetery.”
I opened my mouth, but he didn’t let me speak. Instead, he gave me a disgusted look and tossed the book onto the ground at my feet.
“What a clever little liar you are, Gin,” Mason said. “You really had me going. For a few hours last night, I truly believed that you had found the ledger here, that Fletcher had hidden it right under my nose all these years. But of course, I know that’s a lie now.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he was talking about, but once again, he didn’t let me speak.
“But that’s not the worst mistake you made,” Mason snarled. “That’s not the error that’s going to cost you your life. No, the worst mistake you made was giving me a fake.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
For a moment, I didn’t understand what Mason was saying, but then his words hit my mind like the proverbial ton of bricks. I rocked back on my heels.
A fake? The ledger was a fake?
For another moment, I thought Mason was playing some weird game, but his dark, murderous expression told me that he wasn’t lying. A sick, sick feeling flooded my stomach, and I couldn’t help but think about all the time and effort I had spent worrying about the ledger over the past few days. All of that had been for nothing.
No wonder my uncle wanted me dead. I would have gleefully murdered me too.
And I couldn’t help but curse myself as well. Given the two fake blue ledgers that had been floating around the Eaton Estate a few weeks ago, I should have considered the possibility that this black book might also be a phony, a decoy. But my own oversight and Mason’s wrath didn’t stop the inevitable question from popping into my mind: if this ledger was a fake, then where was the real one?
I shook my head. “I’m telling you the truth. Fletcher hid that ledger in this cemetery. If it’s a fake, then I don’t know anything about it. I barely even had a chance to look at it, remember? You made me give you the ledger almost immediately after I found it.”
“Oh, stop lying, Gin,” Mason snapped. “Somehow you found out what was in the ledger
, and you had one of your friends, probably Mr. Lane, concoct a clever fake. It almost fooled me. You should congratulate yourself on that.”
“I didn’t give you a fake. At least, not on purpose.” I stabbed my finger at Tucker. “He was here. He saw me take the ledger from the cemetery. He tried to stop me.”
Mason looked at Tucker, who shrugged. The vampire wasn’t going to speak up, not even to confirm my story, not now when it really mattered. I shot him a disgusted look. Tucker’s lips pinched together, but he kept quiet. Still, the longer I looked at him, the more I thought about what had happened between us here yesterday.
Tucker had tried to stop me from taking the ledger. I had expected that. But he had claimed that I was making a mistake and that he was trying to save me from myself. Why would he say those things unless…
He had known the ledger was a fake.
My mind spun around, but more and more thoughts sprang up next to that first one, like weeds growing in a field. The only way Tucker could have realized the ledger was a fake was if he had known exactly what it contained. But how could he? He hadn’t looked in the ledger yesterday, so he must have seen the volume sometime in the past.
And the only way—the only way—for Tucker to have looked at the ledger before it was buried in his grave was if Fletcher had shown it to him.
Fletcher had been working with Hugh Tucker.
The idea boggled my already thoroughly boggled mind, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. During our talk on Jo-Jo’s porch, Fletcher had said he was working with someone who hated Mason just as much as he did. He had to have been talking about Hugh Tucker.
After all, the vampire had loved my mother and tried to save her from Mab, and he’d told me more than once that everyone in the Circle saw him as nothing more than a guard dog that carried out Mason’s orders. Sure, Tucker had tried to kill me, but he’d spent far more time helping than hindering me over the past few months.
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