Deadly Sting

life on her index finger, and her eyes began to glow a dull orange from her power, like two matches burning in her face. Her magic pricked at my skin like tiny, invisible needles, making me grind my teeth together. Hannah didn’t have nearly as much juice as Mab had. In fact, she was quite weak in her magic, but she still had enough power to lean down and trace something into the top of the board: a rune.

In addition to using them as their personal, familial, and business symbols, elementals could also imbue runes with magic and get them to perform specific functions. No doubt Hannah was scorching some sort of Fire symbol into the wood.

Hannah finished creating the symbol and leaned back on her heels. She let go of her power, and the elemental Fire was snuffed out on her fingers, causing a bit of smoke to waft up into the night sky. The uncomfortable feel of her magic vanished a moment later.

“Good job,” Dixon said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Your rune and that explosive will be more than enough to blow the bridge.”

So that’s what they were planning, to toast the bridge. The when was easy enough to figure out: after they’d sacked up all of the art and were on the mainland once more. But why destroy the bridge at all? All of the hostages would already be dead, so it wasn’t like there would be anyone left to follow them or sound an alarm . . . unless . . . unless the giants didn’t plan to kill the hostages after all.

I tapped my fingers against the hilt of my knife as I tried to figure things out.

Obliterating the bridge was one way of trapping all of the hostages on the island and avoiding chase. But why even leave the hostages alive in the first place? It wasn’t like Clementine had any qualms about killing people. So why let anyone live who could identify or come after her after the fact? It didn’t make sense that she would, especially if she wanted her giants to take over the underworld from all the crime bosses being held in the rotunda.

And it wouldn’t solve the problem of the cops that would be hot on her trail just as soon as someone sounded the alarm. By the time the giants got done in the museum, they’d have four big, heavy trucks full of art— too much for a quick getaway, especially given the twisting, curving two-lane road that led from the museum back down into the city. Clementine had to have realized that. So what else did she have up her sleeve? How was she planning to evade the po-po? That I didn’t know worried me.

“Pack it up and get back to the museum,” Dixon said. “We’ve still got more rooms to go through.”

Hannah grinned. “Sure thing. We wouldn’t want all that art to just hang there, now, would we?”

All three giants laughed. Bad jokes seemed to be the calling card of this crew.

Dixon left the bridge and headed back up the hill, leaving the other two giants behind to collect the gear they’d stowed a few feet away from the bridge entrance. Dixon started whistling, and the cheerful sound made the black, murderous rage beat in my heart once more. I would have liked nothing more than to follow the bastard and knife him in the back for what he’d done to Jillian, but he wasn’t important right now—the bomb was.

Hannah turned off her flashlight and put it down on the pavement while Anton shoved his crowbar back into his duffel bag. Dixon was already out of sight—and, more important, earshot, since I couldn’t hear him whistling anymore.

Knife in hand, I straightened up and headed toward the edge of the garden. Unfortunately, the foliage stopped short of the bridge, leaving about ten feet of dead space and plenty of chance for the giants to see my approach.

I thought about using my Stone magic to harden my skin in case they were able to get to their guns quicker than I was able to get to them. But in the end, I decided not to. I wanted to conserve my magic as much as possible, since I didn’t know how many more giants I might have to fight before the night was through.

So I grabbed my second knife from its holster, drew in a breath, and stepped forward—

A twig cracked under my bare foot.

It wasn’t a loud sound, but it seemed to boom as big as a clap of thunder in the hushed night air. I cursed my own sloppiness and bad luck. First the creaky door, now this. I just couldn’t catch a break tonight—or at least be quiet enough to sneak up on someone.

For a moment, the two giants froze, staring at each other. Then Anton fumbled for his gun while Hannah turned toward where I was, more elemental Fire flaring to life in the palm of her hand.

I stepped up and threw my first knife at Hannah, but my aim was off, and the knife only sank into her shoulder. Still, it was enough to break her hold on her magic, and the Fire was snuffed out in her hand. She screamed, clutched at the blade in her body, and staggered back against the wooden railing that ran along the outside of the bridge.

Even as she fell back, I raced forward, this time focusing my attention on Anton. He managed to yank the gun from the holster on his belt and take aim at me. I threw myself forward, rolling, rolling, rolling, the pavement digging into my sides, stomach, and shoulders.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Anton’s gun had a silencer, just like Dixon’s, so the bullets didn’t make too much noise as they flew through the air over my head and raced away into the darkness. Well, that was one small favor, although Hannah’s scream had already been far too loud for my liking. But there was nothing to do now but finish my enemies and hope that no one would hear the commotion.

I came to a stop right in front of Anton, and I surged up onto my knees and sliced my knife across his thigh. The wound wasn’t deep enough to sever his femoral artery like I’d wanted, but it was still a serious cut, and blood spattered across my neck, chest, and hand.

Anton screamed and went down on his ass. He kicked his legs out and crab-walked backward across the pavement, scurrying away from me and heading toward the bridge opening—and the bomb.

I didn’t know if he was deliberately moving toward the explosive or just trying to get away from me no matter what, but I could not let him touch that Fire rune. Depending on how it was rigged, the rune could ignite at the slightest touch and trigger the bomb, which could blow us all sky-high.

A gleam of metal caught my eye, and I saw his crowbar sticking out of the top of his duffel bag. Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed the weapon and lashed out with it.

I cracked the crowbar against the giant’s knee, stopping his backward progress. He moaned and started to curl into a ball to protect himself, but it was too late. I raised the crowbar and brought it down again, this time on his head. The curved end stuck in the giant’s skull, and when I ripped it out, blood spurted up like a geyser, coating the pavement, and Anton’s eyes took on a glassy sheen. He’d be dead in another minute, two tops—

The crackle of magic filled the air, and I ducked to one side. A ball of elemental Fire streaked by my head and exploded against a nearby maple, sending smoke and sparks whooshing up into the sky. I whirled around to find Hannah standing behind me, the knife that should have been in her shoulder lying on the pavement at her feet.

“I’m going to burn you alive!” she hissed, another ball of elemental Fire flickering to life in her hand.

“Oh, I doubt that,” I drawled, twirling the crowbar in my hand.

She reared back her hand to throw her magic at me, but I didn’t give her the chance. I closed the gap between us, raised the crowbar high, and cracked her across the skull with it, just like her partner. Hannah staggered back, a dazed look on her face, but I went after her again and again, hitting her across the skull, neck, and chest as hard as I could, driving her back toward the wooden railing that ringed the edge of the island.

When I got close enough, I dropped the crowbar and buried a knife in her heart.

She sucked in a breath to scream, but I ripped the blade free, pivoted, and lashed out with my left foot, kicking her in the gut. Hannah grunted and stumbled back, the weight of her body causing the weathered wood railing to creak and groan. I pivoted once more, kicking her again. This time, the railing didn’t hold, making the same sharp, snapping sound that the twig had made earlier under my foot. Hannah’s arms windmilled, and she fell backward into the darkness. A few seconds later, I heard the splash of her body hitting the river far, far below.

I stood there in the middle of the road, bathed in the golden glow of one of the garden lights, my weapon clenched in my hand. I looked and listened, but the only sounds were my soft, quick breaths and the faint plop-plop-plop of blood dripping off the end of my knife. No shouts of alarm rattled through the air, no footsteps smacked in my direction, no bullets came my way. No one had heard the fight, although the pieces of pavement underfoot had already started to mutter about their sudden, violent deaths.