Widow's Web

spring breeze.

The Delta Queen was docked in the downtown district in front of a wooden boardwalk lined with old-fashioned iron street lamps and benches. Several uppity art galleries, overpriced antique stores, and cutesy cafes could also be found along the walkway, their windows and outdoor seats offering views of the boat and the Aneirin River that it slowly bobbed up and down upon.

The boardwalk and shops were an attempt by the city planners to gentrify the area, despite how close it was to Southtown, the dangerous part of Ashland that was home to the city’s down-on-their-luck bums, deadly gang-bangers, vampire hookers, and their violent pimps. So far, the upscale stores and pristine landscaping had stuck, thanks in part to the security force Kincaid paid to watch over the Delta Queen and surrounding parking lots. After all, it just wouldn’t do for someone to get mugged before he could board the riverboat and lose his money in the casino.

“Pretty lights,” Sophia rasped beside me.

“Yes,” I murmured. “The lights on the riverboat are certainly pretty.”

I just wondered what darkness waited for me on board.

I’d asked Finn to find out everything he could about Kincaid and what was going down on his riverboat tonight. My foster brother had an impressive network of spies, snitches, and folks who owed him favors in Ashland and beyond, and Finn loved digging up dirt on people more than a gardener enjoyed planting his prize roses.

Still, despite all his sources, Finn hadn’t been able to find out much. Kincaid had appeared on the underworld scene as a teenager, doing whatever dirty job he was asked to and ruthlessly working his way up through the ranks of various criminal organizations until he’d struck out on his own. Today, he controlled the market for all the gambling operations—legal and otherwise—in Ashland.

Kincaid was rumored to be as dangerous as they came, despite the fact that he wasn’t an elemental. Then again, you didn’t need elemental magic to kill—just an intense desire to make someone quit breathing and the will to make it a reality. Kincaid wouldn’t have gotten where he was and stayed there all these years without having both of those in spades.

Good thing I did, too. I’d be more than ready for whatever trap the casino boss had in store for me tonight.

“Well,” I said to Sophia, “let’s go make some barbecue.”

* * *

Sophia and I spent the next fifteen minutes unloading our supplies from her classic convertible and the Cadillac Escalade I’d borrowed from Finn’s fleet of cars. Together, the Goth dwarf and I carried everything we needed up the gangplank and on board the riverboat . . .

And right into the middle of a frat party.

Guys and girls in their late teens and early twenties filled the riverboat’s third deck, which formed an open U shape that jutted out past all the other decks and curved into the bow of the boat. Everyone had on flip-flops and sandals, along with the tightest T-shirts and the shortest shorts they could get away with. A banner hanging down from the fourth deck read Charity Rocks! Give ’Til It Hurts!

That was the other strange thing about tonight. I’d expected Kincaid to be throwing some fancy gala, but instead here was a fund-raiser for an animal shelter being put on by some sororities and fraternities at Ashland Community College. Well, perhaps fund-raiser was too generous a term. Kegger with a cause would have been more appropriate, given the students who had brought along their own beer and were already stumbling around like the boat was actually moving instead of being secured to the dock.

Games had been set up on deck, everything from poker to roulette to craps. A twenty-dollar cover charge got you on board the riverboat, all the food you could eat, and a stack of chips. They didn’t have any monetary value tonight, but if you won enough chips playing the games, you could redeem them for prizes. Raffles of donated items were also being held, and screams of delight rippled through the crowd every time someone won something, rising above the loud, constant, ringing ching-ching-ching of the slot machines.

The kids who weren’t drinking or gambling were amusing themselves by hooking up, as though standing by the railing meant that no one could see them sticking their tongues down each other’s throats or would notice all the wandering hands disappearing beneath skimpy outfits.

It all looked so real, so legit, so damn convincing, that I would have almost believed this was a bona fide catering job—except for the fact Kincaid had personally come into the Pork Pit to hire me. Men like him didn’t do things like that—that’s what underlings were for. The casino boss was definitely up to something; I just didn’t know what it was yet.

“Gin! There you are!”

Speak of the devil. Kincaid pushed through a door that led into the riverboat’s interior and headed in my direction. From my past explorations here, I knew the inside of the boat was hollow and ringed with a series of balconies, so folks on the upper decks could see the stage here on the third floor and watch the elaborate shows put on there. Kincaid offered a full, Vegas-style experience, right down to the leggy showgirls Finn always lusted after whenever he watched a performance here.

Kincaid walked toward me, followed by a giant with pecan-brown hair, matching eyes, and olive skin. Both men wore light, summer-weight suits, and each had a large pin in the middle of his silk tie. Kincaid’s pin was made of silverstone, while the giant’s was gold, but both were shaped like a dollar sign superimposed over an outline of the riverboat—Kincaid’s rune for his casino and the buckets of money it netted him. A little garish and too in-your- face for my tastes, but it didn’t surprise me that the casino boss liked to flaunt his wealth. He’d earned it, clawing his way up through the underworld.

More giants circulated through the crowd, all wearing suits and the same gold tiepin. They closely monitored the students and games. Despite the fact that he’d opened up his riverboat to the college crowd, Kincaid wasn’t letting any of the kids cheat or swipe chips from their fellow gamblers. How noble of him.

Kincaid stopped in front of Sophia and me, his blue eyes flicking over our boots, jeans, and long-sleeved T- shirts. Once again, I got the sense he was highly amused about something whenever he looked at me, although I had no idea what that could possibly be. There wasn’t anything amusing about me—or the knives I’d brought along.

“This is Antonio Mendez, my second-in-command,” Kincaid said, gesturing to the giant beside him. “If you need anything tonight, just let him know.”

Antonio nodded his head at Sophia, then turned to stare at me, sizing me up. Despite the neutral expression, I could sense the coiled strength in his seven-foot body. Finn had actually been able to find out more about Kincaid’s men than about Kincaid himself, so I knew Antonio could be ruthless when need be. The giant wasn’t someone you wanted to fuck with.

Then again, neither was I.

I returned Antonio’s searching stare with a cold, hard one of my own. After a moment, the giant nodded his head again, indicating I’d passed his little mental pissing contest. As if I cared. I didn’t have anything to prove to the giant or anyone else, but I’d have been happy to show him exactly who he was messing with if he got an inch out of line or threatened either Sophia or myself in the slightest way.

Antonio turned his attention to the Goth dwarf, and his eyes widened at her black lipstick and the purple streaks she’d put in her hair. “Here. Let me help you with those,” he said, reaching for the stack of boxes in her arms.

Sophia let out a low, threatening growl. With her ruined, raspy voice, she sounded like a mythological Fenrir wolf about to sink its teeth into a hunk of fresh meat. Antonio froze. Sophia let out another growl, and the giant dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from her. Smart man.

Kincaid stayed silent throughout their exchange, then made a sweeping motion with his hand. “This way.”

He led us over to the far side of the deck, the one facing out toward the Aneirin River. A large cooking station had been set up there, complete with pots, pans, utensils, a couple of burners, coolers filled with ice, and everything else we would need. Kincaid had been thorough, if nothing else. His accommodating nature only made me that much more suspicious about what he really wanted—and how many people I might have to kill to make it through the night.