Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom (40 page)

“And you thought Bria buried herself in her own tomb,” Finn deduced. “Until she came back to town a few weeks ago and Mab realized that she hadn’t died that night all those years ago. I bet Mab fucking
freaked
when her sources in the police department told her about Bria, that the detective was digging up dirt on her family’s murder. I bet Mab was absolutely livid when she realized who Bria really was. That’s how Mab even knew it was her in the first place, right?”

“More or less.” Slater shrugged again. “But it’s all just a small setback, one I’m going to rectify after I’m finished having my fun with you—and sweet Roslyn.”

Instead of getting angry again, Finn just stared at the giant, his green eyes gleaming with secrets that Slater couldn’t even begin to guess. Finn’s lips twitched, but not with pain. A small chortle sounded, then another, then another, until he was guffawing with laughter. Tears of
hysterical amusement cascaded down his bruised cheeks, mixing with his scarlet blood.

Slater looked at Finn, then at his two flunkies. The other giants shrugged their shoulders. They didn’t know why he was laughing either.

“What’s so funny?” Slater rumbled, turning back to face Finn. “Most men don’t laugh when they’re about to die.”

My foster brother ignored the giant and kept right on laughing. The loud, merry, confident sound grated on Slater’s nerves, because he moved closer, grabbed Finn’s chin with his massive hand, and shoved his mouth closed, cutting off his gleeful chuckles. It took some effort, but Finn’s chest finally quit shaking with chuckles. Slater stepped back and eyed the other man, still wondering at the cheerful outburst.

“You know what, Elliot?” Finn asked. “You’re a pretty smart guy yourself, to help your boss cover up such brutal murders for so long. But in the middle of telling your little bedtime story, you forgot one small thing.”

“And what the fuck would that be?” Slater growled.

“You know that night that I stopped you from killing Bria Coolidge?”

The giant nodded.

Finn just smiled. “You forgot that I had a partner then—and still do now.”

28

That was my signal to move. So I pulled myself up onto the banister that overlooked the living room and leaped. I hung in midair for a moment before gravity took over. On my way down, I grabbed the edge of the iron chandelier. My momentum propelled me forward, like I was on a old-fashioned rope swing, and I pumped my legs to get the arc I wanted. Elliot Slater’s head snapped up at the noise, but the two giants were too focused on their boss to do the same. Slater shouted a warning. Too fucking late.

I dropped right on top of the two giants. One of them stumbled to the left and slammed into a table. My silverstone knife ripped into the other one’s back and sliced all the way down, like I was a sailor and his flesh was some sort of heavy canvas I was cutting into to slow my own fall.

He screamed with pain and bucked like a bronco, but I jumped up, grabbed his hair, and climbed on his back.
The man tried to throw me off, but I had a death grip on his greasy locks. The giant paused a second to scream and gather his strength, and that’s when I reached around and slit his throat. His scream turned into a gurgle, and I felt the fight and power drain out of his body, along with his blood. The man pitched forward, and I got off the rodeo ride.

One of my knives was still stuck in the giant’s back, and the other had fallen from my grasp when he’d lurched forward. So I grabbed the two knives hidden in my boots and turned to face the other man. He’d picked himself up and was getting back into the thick of the fight. The giant roared with rage, charged, and swung at me.
Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.
I slithered forward and popped up inside his nonexistent defense. One knife went into his heart. The other severed his jugular. I shoved him away and whirled, ready for Slater’s onslaught.

But Elliot Slater stood in front of the column where Finn was chained, just staring at me. His hazel eyes regarded the dead bodies of his men, then flicked up to my face. It took him a second to recognize me through the grease and blood that coated my features like a rubber Halloween mask. But once he did, the giant’s eyes narrowed, and a red flush crept up his pale, chalky neck.

“Blanco!” he hissed.

“You were expecting someone else?” I mocked. “And here I thought the idea that all giants were big and dumb was just a vicious stereotype.”

My eyes flicked behind him to Finn, who was jumping up and down, trying to slip his handcuff chain off the peg that secured it to the stone column above his head.

“I’m the big dumb bastard who’s going to rip you to pieces,” Slater snarled, his hands curling into fists.

“Promises, promises,” I mocked again.

I needed the giant to focus on me. Not do something smart and use Finn as a human shield.

Elliot Slater charged at me. I waited until the last second, then threw myself to one side and rolled up. I turned and immediately flung one of my silverstone knives at him. The weapon sank into the giant’s chest. With a low snarl, he ripped it out and threw it to one side. I grabbed the knife in the small of my back and tossed that one at him too. It also landed in his chest, but I wasn’t done yet. Two more knives came out of the pockets on my vest and whistled in Slater’s direction as well.

Solid chest hits, all of them. If Slater had been human, he would have been dead by now. But he was a giant and a tough one at that. He merely pulled out the knives and let them drop to the floor at this feet. Once that was done, he smiled and started in my direction.

And that’s when I drew the swords.

Elliot Slater had kicked my ass twice now—once at the community college when I’d let him and then again at Bria’s house the night that he’d come to kill her. But I’d taken something away from both of those beatings—the fact that I couldn’t let the giant put his hands on me. Not if I wanted to win. Not if I wanted to live.

Sure, I could use my elemental Stone magic to harden my skin, to make it tougher than granite. But Slater was arguably the strongest man in Ashland. He could keep punching me until my magic wore down. And when it was gone, when my strength and magic were exhausted
and my concentration slipped that one precious second, my skin would revert back to normal. And then the giant could kill me with one well-placed blow. I couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let him get close to me. Which is why I’d grabbed the two long swords from Owen Grayson’s wall of weapons. I needed a way to cut Elliot Slater down piece by piece and keep out of reach of his long arms at the same time.

Now I was going to see if Owen was as good a craftsman as I thought he was. Going to stake my life on it, as a matter of fact.

Slater pulled up short at the sight of the silverstone swords glinting in my hands. Then a cruel smile spread across his face. “You think those little toothpicks are going to stop me?”

I twirled the swords in my hands. “Come here, you sick bastard, and we’ll find out.”

And then we danced.

Around and around we circled, our shoes squishing into the puddles of blood already on the carpet. Unlike his men, Slater didn’t rush at me, thinking his superior strength and size would be enough to carry him through the fight. Instead, the smart, cagey bastard feinted in and out, testing me, trying to see how good I really was with the swords. He got the message when I sliced his bicep with one weapon and nicked his thigh with the other one.

Slater’s hazel eyes narrowed. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Blanco.”

I smiled. “Every day’s a new surprise.”

We kept testing each other. I got a few more wounds in, content to slowly bleed the giant out. Slater realized
what my strategy was and decided to up the tempo and use his incredible speed to his advantage. He came at me swinging in a lightning-fast pattern.
Punch-punch-punch.
I dodged the first two, but his last quick blow caught me in the shoulder before I could sidestep away. The hard hit rocked my joint, and my arm and hand went numb from the sudden pressure. Owen’s beautiful sword slipped from my fingers and thumped to the carpet. I darted forward and kicked it back and behind me, well out of Elliot Slater’s reach. The speedy giant was dangerous enough by himself. If he got his hands on a sword, well, it wouldn’t be good for me.

“Seems like you lost your toothpick,” he mocked.

“And you’ve lost more blood,” I replied, trying to shake the numbness out of my arm. “I’d say that makes us even.”

Slater looked down at his shirt and pants. Blood covered both of them, and the rips that I’d made in the fabric made him look like a castaway whose clothes had been shredded by the elements. The giant smiled.

“Not for long, bitch,” he replied. “Not for long—”

And then the worst thing in the world happened—Finn decided to get into the fight.

While I’d been circling around and nicking Slater, Finn had managed to get the chain holding his hands up off the peg above his head. Finn’s hands were still bound together by the silverstone cuffs, but he used the heavy chain like it was a piece of garrote wire. He leaped up onto a sofa, threw the chain over Slater’s head, and crawled up on the giant’s back like a monkey.

I’d give Finn points for style, if not substance, because Slater immediately backpedaled and slammed him into
the closest wall. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Finn groaned, and the chain slackened around Slater’s neck. The giant threw off the metal and Finn, who fell to the floor, completely limp. Slater turned and stomped on Finn’s ribs with his massive foot.

“I’ll deal with you soon, you cocky bastard,” he muttered.

I rushed forward, swinging the long sword above my head, but the giant was quicker than I was. So much fucking quicker. Slater used his massive forearm to block my attack, then punched me in the face. Pain and blood flooded my mouth. I wasn’t anticipating the blow and staggered back, momentarily stunned. The giant pressed his advantage, charging at me. I managed to bring the sword up to hold him back, but it was only a temporary maneuver. Slater ripped the weapon out of my hands, tossed it to one side, and kept coming.

Since I was out of weapons, I reached for the only thing that I had left—my magic. My Stone power flooded through my veins, and I pulled the power up through my tissue and bones and muscles and joints, letting it pour over my skin, hardening it. Slater stopped short and eyed the gray, chiseled appearance of my skin.

“Fuck, you’re an elemental too. Just full of tricks aren’t we—” The giant stopped his muttering and glanced over his shoulder at Finn, then back at me. Knowledge shimmered in his hazel eyes. “Well, well, looks like Mab had the wrong sister all the while, didn’t she? Just think how pleased she’ll be when I tell her that
you’re
the one with the Stone magic. What was the middle brat’s name again? Oh, yeah—hello,
Genevieve.
”

Fuck. Of all the things that could have happened, Elliot Slater guessing my real identity had not been at the top of my list. Neither was the way the truth energized him.

Slater let out a loud roar and threw himself at me. This time I couldn’t avoid him. The giant slammed me to the carpet and started punching me over and over and over again, just the way that I’d feared he would. He peppered my face and chest with blows, never slowing his cadence or losing his rhythm.
Punch-punch-punch.
Every sharp blow threatened to break through my hardened skin. My head already rang from his previous punches, and it took every thing I had to focus on my Stone power to keep myself from being beaten to death. I had no doubt that the giant could keep his promise to Finn. He could hit me for hours without tiring.

In desperation, I threw my hand to one side and reached for my Ice magic. A jagged knife formed in my palm, and I snapped my hand up, determined to drive the weapon into Slater’s eye or neck or whatever the hell I could reach. But the giant saw the motion out of the corner of his eye. Once again, his quickness saved him. He grabbed my hand, stopping the forward motion, and glanced at the crude weapon that I had clenched between my fingers.

“An Ice knife. Cute,” he said.

Then the bastard snapped my wrist.