myself when I’d gone toe-to-toe with Mab and her Fire and lived through the fight. So it was easy for me to coat the rocks around me with an inch of elemental Ice. What wasn’t so easy was pushing my power outward over the whole ridge and then even farther out into the woods beyond the rocks.
But I had a plan for that too: the silverstone spider-rune ring on my right hand, the one that Bria had given me. I tapped into the magic that was housed in the metal there, adding it to the Ice power that was already flowing out of me. The reason silverstone was so prized was that the metal had a special property, the ability to absorb and store all forms of magic. That’s why so many elementals wore rings, necklaces, and watches made out of silverstone, so they could have an extra boost of power when they needed it, say, for an elemental duel.
So many people had tried to kill me in the past few months that I’d taken to putting a bit of my Ice and Stone power into my ring every morning when I got up and again every night before I went to bed. As a result, the ring held more of my magic than it ever had before, and
I intended to tap into every single bit of it.
It was a risk, using up all of my magic this way, but I wanted to give Warren, Owen, and Sophia the best possible chance to get off the mountain and back to Roslyn’s car. I figured that turning the whole damn ridge into a field of elemental Ice was the best way to do that.
I kept reaching and reaching for my magic, watching the Ice crystals leapfrog from one rock and one patch of earth to the next, pushed forward by my Stone power like soldiers marching into battle. Below me, the men started shouting as the Ice approached and then rushed on past them like a cold crystal wave. A few weren’t quite quick enough to let go of their handholds on the ridge, and their hands froze to the rocks and were trapped there by the thick layer of Ice. I hoped their fingers rotted, turned black, and fell off from frostbite. It would serve these bastards right for all the horrible things they’d done.
People thought assassins were evil, but at least my violence was mostly contained to my targets and whatever bodyguards they employed. Grimes and his men hurt everyone who’d ever crossed their path, whether they’d deserved it or not, like all those poor college kids they’d kidnapped and brought up here over the years. And Hazel, well, she liked to use her Fire magic for the sadistic little thrill that it gave her. I wondered how many folks had been innocently hiking through the woods when they’d stumbled across the camp, never to leave it again.
The thought made the black rage rise in me once more, and I dug down even deeper inside myself. It only took me a moment to release another cold blast of power, this one even stronger than before. The rest of the ridge iced over, and the crystals kept right on going, spreading out into the woods beyond and the clearing below, until the rocks, trees, grass, and leaves glittered like polished glass.
Still, despite the elemental Ice, one man actually managed to climb all the way up to the top of the ridge. He stopped short of pulling himself up and over the crest.
Instead, he held on to the cold, slippery rocks with one hand, while he raised the gun in his other hand to fire at me.
Before he could pull the trigger, I rose to my feet and kicked him in the face, smashing my boot into his nose.
The sharp jab made his body arch back, and he lost his grip on the slick rocks. End over end, he plummeted to the clearing below. I’d hoped that he would plow into a few of his friends on the way down and knock them off the ridge too, but I’d kicked him too hard, and he fell clear of the rocks.
I heard his neck break all the way up where I was. I grinned again. One down. Many more to go.
I crouched down over the ridge again, sending wave after wave of Ice magic out into the rocks and trees and grass below. cold sweat soaked my clothes, my lungs burned, and my head began to pound from the effort of concentrating so long and so hard, from the sheer
Steam rose from the Ice, shrouding the ridge, the woods, and the clearing below in a cold, eerie, misty fog.
Well, that should give my friends a bit more cover as they trekked down the mountain.
Still, despite my best efforts, it wasn’t enough.
If only it had been a cloudy day, my crystalline creation might have lasted a little longer, but the July sun was already beating down on the ridge and slowly baking it once more. I’d made the Ice as thick as I could, but it wouldn’t be long before it melted away. But I’d done all that I could do to help Sophia, Owen, and Warren escape. The rest was up to them.
So I let go of the few remaining scraps of my Ice power.
My spider-rune ring was completely empty of magic. I had a bit of Stone power left, but it wouldn’t do me much good now, unless I wanted to use it to harden my skin, protect myself from the bullets that were still coming my way, and dash off into the woods.
But I wasn’t going to run. I might have given Sophia and the others a good head start, but her injuries, combined with Warren’s, would make their escape a slow one.
I still needed to give Grimes, Hazel, and their men something else to focus on for at least a little while longer: me.
I slid my knife up my sleeve, grabbed the guns from where I’d placed them on the rocks, and waited for
Grimes’s men to come.
After seeing what had happened to their buddy with the broken neck, Grimes’s men quit trying to climb up the frozen rocks to get to me. But they had just as hard a time getting back down again, and several slipped off the ridge and fell to the ground below. Moans, groans, and high pitched whimpers drifted up to me, along with the sharp, satisfying
I looked down dispassionately at one man, who was crying, rocking back and forth, and clutching his leg. I could see the white of his bone from where I was. He wouldn’t be getting up without an Air elemental to heal him. Even then, the process of being healed would be as excruciating as the broken leg itself. They should just shoot him. It would be kinder—
A bullet zinged off the rocks to my right, and I realized that one man had already made the trek through the woods and up the side of the ridge.
Too bad he had lousy aim. The bullets pinged off the rocks around me, but none of them actually came close to hitting me.
I ducked down behind a boulder, then scrambled on top of it and launched myself through the air. The man raised his gun, but I hit his body before he could pull the trigger, and we both went down on the ground. I was the only one who got back up.
Footsteps crunched through the leaves on the trail to my right, and shouts rose from that direction, like a pack of hounds baying out their location.
“Up here!”
“There she is!”
“Get that bitch!”
Men darted out of the woods and headed toward me.
I raised the guns in my hands and took aim.
That was the mantra I chanted in my head as I fired off shot after shot, carefully aiming at every person who came within range of my weapons and trying to make every single bullet count. Man after man went down, tumbling to a stop at my feet with holes in their heads, necks, and chests, but all too soon, my guns
I threw them away, palmed the knife that I’d tucked up my sleeve, and grabbed another one out of a pocket on my vest. More properly attired, I twirled the weapons in my hands and stepped forward.
