18
Salina stood in the doorway, surveying my gin joint. And once again, I was struck by how lovely she was, but her beauty didn’t inspire quite the same awe in me as it had before, especially since Roslyn was here.
Where Roslyn’s beauty was soft, warm, and inviting, Salina’s was hard, cold, and distant. The planes of her face were perfectly proportioned, but the angles were sharp, as though her porcelain skin had been chiseled from marble. Her lips were full and covered with a slick pink gloss, while her eyes were that shifting color somewhere between blue and green. But even they were cold, so cold they reminded me of the glass eyes I’d seen in some dolls not too long ago. Flat, empty, and completely emotionless.
Salina wore a power suit in a bright aquamarine that brought out the beauty of her sun-kissed skin. Matching stilettos covered her dainty feet, and I could see the gleam of her pink pedicure all the way across the restaurant. Her silverstone cuff bracelet—the one with her mermaid rune etched into it—adorned her right wrist. But the expensive clothes and flash of jewelry almost made her seem a little too polished, a little too perfect, like she was made of wax and would melt if you so much as touched her.
The only thing soft about Salina was her hair, which cascaded down her back in rippling blond waves, reminding me of the water she could so easily control. I’d never been one for long hair myself. Too much trouble to take care of and, in my line of work, too much chance of it getting pulled out during a fight to the death.
“Stay right where you are. Act casual, but whatever you do, don’t turn around,” I told Roslyn in a soft voice.
The vampire stiffened. “Salina just walked into the restaurant, didn’t she?”
I nodded. “And since it seems like she’s going around Ashland killing former associates, or at least trying to, I don’t want her to see you and remember you used to visit her father. Okay?”
Roslyn nodded and kept facing the back wall, although she pulled a compact out of her purse, as though she needed to powder her nose. She angled the mirror so she could see behind her.
“Yep,” she murmured. “That’s Salina all right.”
The vamp snapped her compact shut and stuck it back into her purse. “So now what are you going to do?”
I picked up a menu and a glass of water, and gave her a wink. “Why, I’m going to go see what she wants, of course. You know how much I pride myself on my stellar customer service.”
Salina didn’t wait for me or one of the waitstaff to seat her. Instead, she looked around the restaurant a second longer before walking over and sliding into an empty booth by the storefront windows. Then she turned her head in my direction and smiled, a clear invitation for me to come on over.
I looked over my shoulder at Sophia. Roslyn had leaned forward and was talking to the Goth dwarf, quietly filling her in on the situation. Sophia turned in my direction, a clear question in her black eyes, but I shook my head, telling her to stay put. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t kill Salina in the middle of the Pork Pit. My customers and staff might have thought I was the Spider, but it wasn’t like I wanted to palm my knives and give them a demonstration of my deadly skills.
Sophia nodded at me and said something to Roslyn. The vampire slid off her stool and followed her to the back of the restaurant, probably so she could leave through the alley. Once Roslyn and Sophia were out of sight, I plastered my best, easiest, most unconcerned smile on my face and sidled up to Salina’s booth. I put the glass of water down on the table, along with the menu.
“What can I getcha, sugar?”
“Sit down, Gin,” Salina said, a clear command in her voice. “You don’t have to keep up the charade for me. I find charades to be rather tiresome, don’t you?”
I arched an eyebrow at her boldness, but if that was the way she wanted to play things, then that was fine by me. I’d never much liked making nice with or feeding my enemies, even when they were paying for the privilege.
So I slid into the opposite side of the booth from Salina. Up close, she was even more stunning, with a dazzling beauty you just couldn’t look away from. I could see why Owen had been so drawn to her. Hell, I could see why any man would be. The fact that she’d been Owen’s fiancee cut a little deep.
Salina’s eyes flicked over my long-sleeved T-shirt and the blue work apron I always wore whenever I cooked at the Pit. Her pink lips curled up into a faint sneer.
“So you’re Gin Blanco, the assassin known as the Spider,” Salina finally said. “How . . . disappointing.”
I leaned back in my booth, my easy smile still on my face. “And you’re Salina Dubois, the woman who likes to use her water magic to pop people’s eyes out of their skulls. I’d say the disappointment is mutual.”
Bria was right—she was smooth. Salina didn’t bat an eyelash at my words. Didn’t blink, didn’t suck in an indignant breath, didn’t pucker her lips in displeasure or denial. It was like I hadn’t even spoken for all the reaction she showed. Instead, she reached for the glass I’d put in front of her, took a delicate sip of the liquid, and then wrinkled her nose, as if it left a foul taste in her mouth.
“Tap water,” she murmured, carefully setting the glass off to the side. “I should have guessed.”
Yes, Salina was good, but I recognized the misdirection for what it was. She was trying to buy herself a few seconds to decide whether or not to lie to me about what had happened on the
Salina seemed a little put out that I wasn’t more upset—or perhaps awed—by her appearance, but she got down to business. “Tell me, how is Phillip feeling? I was going to stop by the riverboat this afternoon, but I was in such a hurry to get over here that I just didn’t have the time.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, or why she had come here in the first place, but I kept my face just as smooth as hers was. Salina wasn’t the only one who could play this sort of game.
“Kincaid is doing just fine,” I replied in an even tone. “Despite your attempt to kill him.”
Salina shrugged again, as if the fact that I’d just accused her of attempted murder was no more worrisome than a piece of lint sticking to her clothes. Given the obvious time, trouble, and energy she’d put into her appearance, I imagined the lint would bother her more.
“I knew I’d sent Phillip a clear message with Katarina’s death, but I didn’t expect him to be so desperate as to hire an assassin to protect him,” Salina said. “I didn’t think Phillip was that smart. Katarina certainly wasn’t.”
“And what was your problem with Katarina?”
Salina smiled. “Nothing in particular, other than I knew she was friends with Phillip. People should be more careful about the company they keep. It can get them into trouble. Just ask Antonio.”
So I’d been right, and she’d killed the others mostly to hurt Kincaid. Cold and cruel.
“I let Katarina know in advance I was coming for her,” Salina continued, as if that excused murdering the other woman in so gruesome a fashion. “Not that it did her any good. It never does, in the end, when I’m around.”
That sounded exactly like something I would say when talking about my prowess as the Spider. She was cocky, I’d give her that. But then again, given what I’d seen her do to Antonio, she had every right to be.
To my surprise, Salina didn’t radiate magic as strongly as many elementals did. Whenever I’d been around Mab, I’d always felt like there were hundreds of tiny, invisible, red-hot needles stabbing into my skin. But it wasn’t like that with Salina at all. In fact, the only feeling I got from being close to her was a vague sense of cool wetness, like if I reached out and touched her skin, it would feel damp and slick. You didn’t have to radiate magic to be a strong elemental, and Salina had more than enough power to be dangerous—even to me.
Besides, like Jo-Jo always told me, it didn’t matter how much elemental power you had—just what you did with it. Even the weakest elemental could kill the strongest, if the circumstances were right.
“Is that why you’ve come back to Ashland?” I asked. “To settle old scores? Like the one you have with Kincaid?”
Salina let out a small, pealing laugh. “Hardly. I’ll admit it’s been . . . amusing seeing my old . . . friends, but the thrill of that has quickly worn off. I’m here on more serious business. Although make no mistake, I’ll get back
