Thread of Death (5 page)

I stepped forward and reached for my magic. But not my Stone power. No, this time, I grabbed hold of my Ice magic. For a moment I smiled, relishing the feel of the cool power flowing through my veins; then I pushed the magic outward. A cold silver light flickered on my palm, centered in the middle of the spider rune scar there. I leaned forward, placed my hand against the rough bark of the tree trunk, and let loose with my power.

Ice crystals spread out from my palm, climbing higher and higher into the maple, zipping from one branch, one leaf, to the next. If I wanted to, I could have frozen the entire tree in a matter of seconds with my elemental Ice, but that would have just been showing off, something I didn’t need or even want to do. So I focused on the branches closest to the sniper, forcing the Ice crystals in that direction—and then out onto the boards the dwarf had nailed to the tree.

The sniper let out a surprised shout and backed up, trying to get away from the encroaching crystals, but there was no escaping them—or how slippery they were. The dwarf’s boots skidded this way and that on the elemental Ice, and he held on to the rifle, his arms twirling around like he was a figure skater, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable. One foot slipped over the side of the platform, then the other.

The dwarf screamed all the way down to the ground.

I let go of my magic, dropped my hand from the tree trunk, and stepped to one side. The sniper hit the ground with a satisfying thump. I had no illusions he was dead, though. The shooter’s body didn’t look as thick and strong as Sophia’s, but he was still a dwarf, which meant that he could take a lot of damage before he was down for the count. A thirty-foot fall probably wouldn’t even break any of the bastard’s bones.

The drop stunned the dwarf for a second, but he recovered quickly. I’d just started to reach for him when he rolled over onto his side away from me and scrambled to his feet. His eyes dropped to the sniper rifle, which lay between us, and I could see him wondering whether it was worth it to try to lunge for the weapon and shoot me at point-blank
range.

The dwarf made the right decision and decided not to go for the weapon. Instead, he bared his teeth at me, turned, and ran to the left, hurrying across the cemetery lawn as fast as he could. I sighed, hating the thought of having to chase after him. Why did they always have to run—

Crack!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Crack! Crack!

Shot after shot rang out, until it seemed like the whole cemetery had erupted in gunfire. I clapped my hands over my ears and turned around. Apparently, the giants and other bodyguards had decided to earn their keep today, because many of them had gotten to their feet, pulled out their guns from their suit jackets, and opened fire on the running dwarf. Earlier, I’d been right when I thought that Kincaid had a gun, because he’d joined the ranks of the bodyguards, firing shot after shot from a silver revolver.

The dwarf was quick—but not quite quick enough. A bullet clipped him in the shoulder, spinning him around so that he was facing the crowd and letting the bodyguards get a bead on him.

Crack!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Crack! Crack!

Bullet after bullet thumped into the dwarf’s chest, arms, and legs. Dwarves were tough, but this one never had a chance—not with so many people firing so much lead at him. His body vibrated back and forth from the force of the dozens of bullets slamming into him, until finally his legs went out from under him and he dropped to the grass. The bodyguards lowered their weapons, and the cemetery was silent once more, except for the overlapping echoes of all the gunshots rattling up the ridge above. The smell of burned gunpowder filled the air, overpowering the earthy scent of the grass and trees.

When I was sure that everyone had lowered their guns and no one was going to turn their weapons in my direction, I let go of my Stone magic, walked over to the dwarf, and dropped to a knee beside him.

He was a fucking mess. The sniper’s clothes hung in tatters from his body, his entire chest black with bullet holes and red with the blood that
was gushing out of them. Still, I leaned forward, dug my hands into what was left of his shirt, and jerked him up toward me.

“Who hired you?” I demanded. “Were you here for me or someone else? One of the other crime bosses, maybe? Tell me who you were trying to kill!”

But it was too late. The dwarf tried to say something, but his answer was lost in a gurgle of blood that oozed out of the side of his mouth and dripped onto the grass. He shuddered out a breath, his eyes glazed over, and his head lolled to one side while the rest of his body relaxed. Dead.

I dropped him, and he flopped back down to the ground. I got to my feet and turned around to find people staring at me. Everyone—all the bodyguards, all the bosses, even the minister—was peering at me with wide eyes. Now, instead of the Fire elemental, I was the center of attention.

I sighed yet again. So much for a solemn service.

Owen, Finn, and Bria got to their feet and hurried over to me. Sophia helped Jo-Jo and Roslyn stand up, and I waved at the three women, letting them know that I was okay. They waved back and started walking in our direction.

“Gin! Are you all right?” Owen asked, hugging me tight, then holding me out at arm’s length and scanning my face and the rest of my body for injuries.

“I’m fine,” I said. “There’s not a scratch on me. For once.”

“Well, the same can’t be said for our friend here,” Finn drawled, staring down at all the bullet holes in the sniper’s body.

Bria stood next to him, looking at the dead dwarf as well. After a moment she shook her head. “I’ll call it in,” she said in a resigned voice.

“Bria—”

I held out my hand to her, hoping to explain, but my sister had already turned away. I couldn’t tell if she hadn’t heard me . . . or if she had just decided to ignore me instead. I let my hand drop to my side, hurt by the idea that Bria was shunning me. Mab was dead. We should be closer together now than ever, but instead it seemed like we were drifting further and further apart, and I had no idea how to reach her. Everything I
did only seemed to make things worse—like coming to the funeral today.

Bria walked a few feet away, pulled a cell phone out of her purse, and started dialing, summoning her fellow members of the po-po to the scene.

“Wow, Gin,” Finn said in an amused voice. “You’ve really done it this time.”

“What do you mean?”

He swept his hand out, the gesture meant to encompass the whole cemetery. “I mean, take a look around. Not only did you kill Mab, but you pretty much trashed her funeral, too, ruining her last little hurrah in this world. It’s like the cherry on top of the ultimate revenge sundae. A dish
definitely
served cold.”

I looked out over the crowd. Everyone had gotten to their feet now that the sniper was dead and the danger had passed. Most of the mourners were covered with dirt and grass, and several folks looked smushed after being pounced on and driven into the ground by their giant bodyguards. No one seemed to be seriously injured, though.

However, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of Ashland Memorial Cemetery. Many of the monuments and headstones were cracked and riddled with bullet holes where the bodyguards had opened fire on the sniper, and several of the older, more delicate and brittle markers had been completely shattered on impact. The wail of the cracked and broken stones echoed in my ears, the marble and granite shocked out of the quiet passage of time by the sudden eruption of violence and the horrible damage that had been done to them. One monument in particular caught my eye. A tall, slender angel stood off to my left, the one Kincaid had taken cover behind. Her once beautiful wings had been chipped off, and bullets had also struck her face, scorching the stone and making her look like she was weeping black tears.

As much as I hated to admit it, Finn was right: I had ruined Mab’s funeral—and the cemetery too.

“It’s okay, darling,” Jo-Jo said, coming up to stand beside me, Finn, and Owen. “We all know you didn’t intend this.”

“Not your fault,” Sophia added in her hoarse, raspy voice.

“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen,” Roslyn chimed in.

“I doubt everyone else will believe that,” I murmured. “No doubt some of them will think I planned the whole thing just to ruin the funeral like Finn said. Or, worse, that I hired the sniper to try and kill the crime bosses.”

Owen shook his head. “But we know you would never do something like that, not even to Mab. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. We know the truth. So the question is: Who was the sniper really after? You? Another one of the bosses? More than one of them? And why here? Why today of all days?”

My eyes swept over the crowd, going from one face to another. By this point, folks had started to cluster together, talking to each other or murmuring into their cell phones. All the bodyguards still had their guns out, their heads swiveling left and right, but I could have told them not to bother. The danger was dead. At least for today.

Still, the bodyguards eyed me warily, as did their employers, including Phillip Kincaid.

The casino boss politely tipped his head to me. The motion made the blond highlights in his short ponytail shimmer in the sun. That same smile I’d noticed earlier was still plastered on his face, although it was even wider now, as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed the show I’d inadvertently put on. I’d never spoken to Kincaid, but something about the way he looked at me made me feel like he knew a lot more about me than I did about him. That was worrisome, especially since Kincaid would no doubt be moving to consolidate his power base now that Mab was dead and almost buried.

Still, I’d never made any problems for Kincaid, and he hadn’t for me, either. Hiring someone to kill me at Mab’s funeral just didn’t seem like his style.

I couldn’t say the same thing about Jonah McAllister, though. He was talking to the minister, probably about trying to finish the service for Mab. He must have felt me staring at him, because he looked over his shoulder at me. The lawyer’s mouth puckered into a frown, and he turned his attention back to the minister. I didn’t know whether McAllister’s displeasure was because I’d ruined the service or I was still breathing. I imagined either one was more than enough to thoroughly piss him off.

“My money’s on McAllister setting this up,” I said, finally answering
Owen’s question. “As to who he was after, the sniper had his sight set on you first before he switched it over to me, but that was probably just him turning the laser on and lining up his shot. I think he wanted to take me down first. It looked like he was aiming for Donaldson and Parker, too, given how many shots he fired at them.”

“But he kept firing even when you and the others were on the ground,” Owen pointed out.

I shrugged. “Maybe he was trying to get Donaldson, Parker, and some of the other bosses as a bonus. Maybe he had orders just to kill whomever he could. There’s just no way of knowing, but trying to have me or some of the other underworld players assassinated at Mab’s funeral is just the sort of underhanded, weaselly thing McAllister would do. As for why now, probably because this is one of the few times all the bosses have been together and that I’ve been out in such a public place since I killed Mab. McAllister wants me dead, and he probably thought this was his best shot—that I might still be weak from my fight with her. I
would
still be weak, if Jo-Jo hadn’t spent so much time and magic healing me.”

I didn’t add that my arms and legs were still twitching and trembling from my sprint across the cemetery and that I could feel the familiar exhaustion creeping up on me from overexerting myself. The others would probably insist on taking me home, and I still had unfinished business here.

Jo-Jo patted my hand. “Something I was more than happy to do, darling. You know that.”

I nodded at the dwarf, but my gaze went back to McAllister. If the lawyer had been behind the attack, I wondered how he was feeling now that it had failed. He didn’t seem as upset as he should be, though, and I couldn’t help but wonder what else McAllister would plan now that he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted at the funeral.

I had a feeling I was going to find out sooner rather than later.