Kiss of Venom (4 page)

Oh, I knew that I couldn’t have done anything to save Jillian, that she’d been killed before Clementine and her giants had taken everyone prisoner, but I still felt the weight of her death—and Salina’s too. They were dead, and I wasn’t, and I wasn’t sure how to move forward from that cold, inescapable fact.

Someone bumped into me, snapping me out of my thoughts. Gin was still staring at me. I hesitated, then waved at her. I pointed toward Phillip and then at the front doors of the club, as if I was getting him and we were leaving and going home for the night.

We were going home—eventually. I just had a little problem to take care of first. Two of them, actually.

After a moment, Gin returned my wave, before swiveling around on her seat and facing the Ice bar. Bria glared at me a few more seconds before doing the same.

I sighed, knowing that I’d screwed up again without even meaning to. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I waded over to where Phillip was still boogying the night away. Now his two dance partners were practically draped over him, one on each arm, and the grin on his face told me exactly how much he was enjoying their attention.

I waved my hand, catching his eye, and jerked my thumb toward the doors. Phillip started to protest, but he must have seen the tension in my face, because he smoothly kissed one woman’s hand, then the other, before murmuring some excuses and regretfully leaving them behind.

He followed me to the edge of the dance floor. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Gin was still sitting at the bar, her back was to me, and she was chatting with Bria again.

“You know, you could always go over there and buy her a drink,” Phillip murmured. “I thought that things had gotten a little better between the two of you after the Briartop heist.”

“They are better,” I said. “I just don’t know how to get them back to where they were, to where
we
were before . . .”

“Before Salina.”

I shrugged. Phillip knew the rest of the whole sad, twisted story as well as I did.

“You should make some grand romantic gesture,” he said in a confident, knowing tone. “Women love that. Flowers, candy, jewelry.”

I didn’t tell him that I’d already done that—sort of—by giving Gin the rune necklaces that had belonged to her mother and her older sister. The snowflake and ivy-vine pendants had been among Mab’s things at the Briartop museum. Mab had murdered Gin’s family when Gin was thirteen and had kept the necklaces as some sort of sick trophy.

I’d noticed Gin staring at the necklaces and had realized what they were before Clementine and her men had taken everyone hostage. After the crisis was over, I’d found the rune pendants stuffed into a garbage bag with some of the other jewels that the giants had taken off the partygoers. It had taken me a couple of days and a lot of hard work to clean up the runes and make the silverstone shine again, but it had been more than worth it to see the look of amazement and wonder on Gin’s face when I’d given the necklaces back to her at the Pork Pit—

“Flowers, candy, jewelry,” Phillip repeated in a firm voice. “Those three things have gotten me out of more sticky situations than any gun ever has.”

I shook my head. “That’s because you’re so utterly charming that you convince every woman who crosses your path that she’s going to be Mrs. Phillip Kincaid. Naturally, they get upset when that doesn’t happen.”

For a moment, his face grew somber. “There’s only one woman who’s going to be Mrs. Phillip Kincaid.”

I knew that he was talking about Eva. I could see it in his eyes, but I made myself snort, as though I didn’t care one way or the other about the burgeoning relationship between the two of them. “If she wants you.”

“Oh, she’ll want me,” Phillip said with a confident grin. “Everyone does.”

“Now you sound like Stuart.”

“Who is Stuart?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“I’ll tell you all about him and his friend Richie—outside,” I said. “Now, come on. We have some peacocks to deal with.”

5

Phillip and I left the bump and grind of the dance floor behind and stepped outside. I breathed in, enjoying the freshness of the summer night air after all of the smoke and sweat inside the club.

The interior of Northern Aggression might have been all lush elegance, but the exterior was surprisingly featureless, like a corporate office building. The only thing that set the building apart was the neon sign over the entrance, which was shaped like Roslyn’s rune. The heart with an arrow through it burned a bright, bloody red, then a sunny yellow, then a burnt orange, casting its intense light out over the folks waiting to get past the red velvet rope at the entrance to the club.

A few people looked up from their phones, cigarettes, and conversations as we walked past but quickly lost interest and turned their hopeful attention back to the giant bouncer manning the velvet rope. I filled Phillip in on Stuart the giant and Richie the dwarf and their plans for Gin as we headed toward the parking lot.

When I finished, Phillip let out a low whistle. “So now they’re following her around Ashland, just waiting for her to let her guard down long enough to try to kill her? Sounds like some folks are getting a little desperate to get rid of the Spider.”

“I don’t know why. It’s not like Gin is trying to take Mab’s place or anything like that. All she wants is to be left alone.”

Phillip shook his head. “That’s not going to happen, and we both know it. Not until someone steps up and takes control of the underworld. Right now, everyone is just trying to hold on to what they have and position themselves as best they can. As much as I hate to say it, at least with Mab around, there was some semblance of order. You don’t want to know how many men I’ve lost these past few months to fools storming onto the riverboat, thinking that they can rob me and intimidate my customers. Not to mention what happened to Antonio.”

A shadow passed over his face, causing guilt to cut through my stomach like one of Gin’s knives. Antonio Mendez had been Phillip’s right-hand man on the
Delta Queen
, but more important, the giant had been Phillip’s friend. Salina had used her water magic to suck all of the moisture, all of the life, out of Antonio, and he’d died on the riverboat’s main deck. Salina might have been the one who actually killed the giant, but I still felt responsible for his death—the same way that I felt responsible for all of the hurt that Eva, Phillip, Cooper, and Gin had experienced because of Salina.

Because of my foolish faith and trust in her.

There was nothing that I could do for Antonio. Not now. But the same wasn’t true for Gin, so I pulled my keys out of my pocket and popped open the trunk of my Mercedes-Benz. The trunk was a mess, full of tools and odd bits of metal I had picked up here and there, but I knew exactly what I was looking for and precisely where it was. Like Gin and her knives, I never went anywhere without my weapon of choice these days. I reached down into the mess, and my hands closed around a smooth, firm, familiar hilt. A moment later, I pulled my blacksmith’s hammer out of the trunk and into the neon glare cast by the heart-and-arrow sign.

The hammer wasn’t a traditional weapon, but it was
mine
. After spending so many hours, so many years, in my forge, it felt far more comfortable in my hand than a gun or a knife ever would. Besides, with so many giants and dwarves in Ashland, it was good to have something that would really pack a punch and level the playing field. Drive the hammer into someone’s knees, and he would go down screaming, no matter how tall or tough he was. Slam it into someone’s head, and his skull would crack like an eggshell, no matter how thick and strong his bones were.

I twirled the hammer around and around, moving it from one hand to the other and limbering up my shoulders. After being hunched over in the booth, it felt good to move, to stretch—and to be doing something to help Gin, rather than hurt her again.

The hammer was made of solid silverstone, although you couldn’t really tell, given how much soot and ash had blackened it over the years. And there was something else that made the hammer special: my magic.

Over the years, I’d imbued the hammer with my own elemental talent for metal, so that whenever I was working in the forge, the hammer was an extension of my arm, my magic, my
will
. All of that flowed from me, through the hammer, and into whatever piece of metal I was working with, until the sheets of iron, copper, and silverstone took on the exact shape that I wanted them to.

Phillip eyed the hammer. “I thought you just wanted to talk to these guys, tell them to back off.”

“We can try that,” I said. “But I doubt it will work. They’ll want their money too badly to walk away from this chance to kill Gin. Does that bother you?”

He grinned. “Not at all. In fact, that’s exactly the sort of party that I like. Although I hate to go empty-handed. What other junk have you got in your trunk?” Phillip snickered, then leaned down and peered into the mess. “Hey, what’s in here?”

“Nothing—”

Before I could stop him, he reached down and popped open the lid on a silverstone case that lay on the right side of the trunk. Five knives were nestled in black foam inside the case. They glinted dully in the flashing neon still streaming out from the club’s sign.

“Knives?” Phillip’s eyes narrowed. “Do I even have to guess who these are for?”

He plucked one of the knives out of the foam and held it up to the light. He turned it around and saw the symbol stamped into the hilt. A small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. A spider rune—Gin’s rune—the symbol for patience.

“You made her some more knives?” Phillip scoffed. “Really? The five you made her for Christmas weren’t enough?”

“Have you met Gin?”

He shrugged, conceding my point. “Still, Owen, knives? Again? Really? Were you not listening before when I mentioned flowers, candy, and jewelry?”

“Gin isn’t exactly a flowers-candy-and-jewelry sort of woman,” I said. “And I didn’t make the knives for her.”

Phillip snorted. “Right. Because someone else wants a set of knives with her rune stamped into the hilts. If these knives are part of some half-assed plan you have to get back into Gin’s good graces, then I gotta say, it’s a little lame.”

I ground my teeth. That was exactly what I’d been thinking about doing with the knives, giving them to Gin as an apology for everything that I’d done. I knew that it wouldn’t make up for everything—not for anything, really—but it was all I could think of.

In fact, every time I was in my forge these days, all I thought about was what I could make for Gin. What weapons she might need. What sort of sculpture she might like. What single thing I could make to get her to forgive me.

So far, I’d made five sets of knives, three sculptures shaped like various flower bouquets, and a complete set of silverware for the Pork Pit. None of which was good enough for her, not by a long shot. But still, I kept forging things, hoping that some sort of inspiration would strike and I’d finally know what to make, what to
do
to escape my past mistakes, and move forward.

Phillip started slashing the knife through the air, as though he was thinking about keeping it for himself.

“Give me that,” I growled.

I grabbed the knife, put it back into the case, and closed the top.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re no fun?” Phillip pouted.

“Frequently.” I dug through the trunk until I came up with another, slightly smaller hammer. “Here. Use this. If you still remember how.”

He twirled the hammer in his hands, with the same sort of familiar ease that I had. “Oh, I remember. I could never forget all the blisters, burns, and sore muscles I got from Cooper’s forge.”

Back when we were younger and living on the streets, Cooper had taken us both in, along with Eva. Phillip had spent almost as many hours working in Cooper’s forge as I had, even though he’d been a scrawny kid back then. But now he was even stronger than I was. He’d have no problems using that hammer to pound his way through whoever got in his way.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we find Gin’s car. If they tracked her here, then they probably know what her car looks like and where she parked it. Since Stuart struck out in the club, they’ll probably try to take her out in the parking lot.”

“So that’s why you asked Xavier to throw them out of the club,” Phillip murmured. “And here I thought you were just another ugly face.”

“Come on,” I said, slamming the lid down on the trunk. “Before I show you just how ugly I can be.”

*    *    *

We walked through the rows of cars, looking for Gin’s vehicle, but I didn’t see it. Then again, there were so many cars crammed into the lot that I could have searched for an hour and not come across it.

“Maybe they came in Bria’s car,” Phillip said when we reached the end of another row. “Or one of Finnegan Lane’s. I hear that he has quite the collection of vehicles.”

“He does,” I replied in an absent voice, growing more and more frustrated.

Phillip poked me in the shoulder. “Hey, is that your guy?”

Sure enough, Stuart stepped out of the club. Rather, he was hustled out by Xavier, who had one of Stuart’s arms pinned behind his back.

“C’mon, man,” Stuart whined. “I was just having a little fun.”

“Well, go have your
fun
somewhere else. Remember what I told you, Stuart,” Xavier growled, his voice carrying all the way over to us. “You’re banned from the club for a month. And a month means a whole month, not a lousy couple of days. Now, get lost before I give you the beating that you so richly deserve.”

Xavier gave him a sharp push, and Stuart stumbled forward five feet before catching his balance. He clenched his hands into fists and whirled around as though he was thinking about charging Xavier. But Xavier crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared the other giant down, daring Stuart to come at him. Stuart must have thought better of things, because he brushed a bit of imaginary dirt off one of the sleeves of his blue T-shirt.

“Whatever. I don’t need this stupid club anyway,” Stuart said. “Chicks love me. Love me, I tell you!”

A few snickers sounded from the folks standing in line. Stuart turned his angry gaze to them, and suddenly, everyone was very interested in their phones, cigarettes, and conversations once more.

Stuart started muttering to himself, but he headed toward the parking lot, moving parallel to where Phillip and I were standing.

Phillip started to follow him, but I grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” I said. “There’s another guy with him.”

Sure enough, a minute later, Richie ambled out of the club, his hands stuck in the front pockets of his khakis like he was just out for an innocent stroll. The dwarf must have somehow sneaked past Xavier inside, or maybe he’d realized that Stuart was about to get tossed out. Either way, it didn’t matter, because he was outside now—where I could deal with him.

Richie looked left and right. He spotted Stuart marching through the parking lot and headed in that direction, still keeping his slow, steady pace, as if he wasn’t on his way to murder a woman.

Phillip let out a low whistle. “That’s who’s after Gin? No wonder you were worried.”

“Why? Do you know him?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. That’s Richie Richardson. He’s a nasty bit of work. Basically, a pair of fists for hire. Strong, even for a dwarf, and he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. He rather enjoys it, actually.”

I thought of how chillingly empty Richie’s eyes had been when he’d been talking about killing Gin. “Yeah, I can see that. Does he have any elemental magic?”

Phillip shook his head. “None that I know of, but that doesn’t mean much.”

No, it didn’t. Some elementals almost constantly gave off waves of power that other elementals around them could sense—gusts of Air, hot, invisible sparks of Fire, and the like. But there were others, like Gin, whose power was completely self-contained, and you didn’t realize that they had Ice or Stone magic until they frosted or buried you with it.

I tightened my grip on my hammer. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s see where they’re headed.”