“Please,” Montoya sneered. “You didn’t kill her. Not really. You spun your little lies, and she got caught in them. That’s all. You didn’t do the honorable thing. You didn’t face her down yourself. You didn’t stand in the shadows with a gun in your hand and put three bullets in the back of her head.”
More than a few mutters of agreement rose up at his words. For as crooked, low-down, dirty, rotten, and double-dealing as the members of the Ashland underworld were, they still respected one thing above all others—strength.
Trapping your enemy with lies, bribes, and other machinations was all well and good. But twisting the knife in your enemy’s heart yourself? Well, that was even better. It proved that you had the guts to take what you wanted, and damn anyone who tried to show you the error of your ways. That’s what Mab had done, and it was one of the reasons she’d held on to her power, position, and influence for so long.
Madeline strolled over to Montoya, her long white gown rippling around her body. The crowd fell back so that the two of them stood alone in the center of the dance floor.
“Just because I didn’t kill Blanco with my bare hands or some crude instrument doesn’t mean that I wasn’t responsible for her death,” Madeline said. “She lost everything because of me, and her friends are well on their way to doing the same. I’ve always had a slightly different philosophical approach than my mother. Why merely kill your enemies when you can torture them before you utterly destroy them?”
“Please,” Montoya sneered again. “You can spout your pretty words all you want, but we all know the real reason you didn’t face down Blanco yourself—because you don’t have the magic to do something like that. Your mother, now, she was a real elemental, and she showed us all just how much power she had. So many times that we could never, ever forget. But you? You’re nothing but a spoiled little princess, coming in here, stomping your foot, and telling us all how you think it’s going to be.”
Madeline arched a delicate eyebrow. “You think that I’m not strong?”
He looked down his nose at her. “Not like your mother.”
She let out a soft laugh, but everyone in the ballroom could hear the malice in it loud and clear. Uncertainty filled Montoya’s face, finally overpowering his arrogance, but it was already far too late for any apology.
Madeline casually flicked her wrist, as if she were dismissing his harsh words and bitter accusations with a simple wave of her hand. But it was so much more sinister than that. A few small green drops flew out of her fingertips, streaking through the air like emerald comets.
The acid spattered onto Montoya’s face.
He screamed, his skin immediately blistering, burning, and smoking as the caustic liquid ate and ate away at it. In an instant, his handsome features had been irrevocably scarred. By the time ten seconds had passed, his bronze skin was melting quicker than candle wax. At the thirty-second mark, the white of his cheekbones was peeking through the bubbling red flesh that was sloughing off his face bit by gruesome bit.
Montoya went down on his knees, clawing like a wild animal at his own skin in a desperate attempt to gouge the acid out of what remained of his face.
But it was too late.
Montoya collapsed in a heap on the floor, clawing, kicking, thrashing, and screaming all the while. Madeline jerked her head at Emery. The giant drew a gun out from under her black suit jacket, stepped forward, and put three bullets into Montoya’s disintegrating skull. Blood, bone, and brain matter flew through the air, landing with wet, sickening plop-plop-plops on the white marble floor.
Madeline stood over his body, delicately dusting off her hands as if they had a bit of unwanted dirt on them. Emery flanked her. The giant holstered her gun, even as her cold hazel gaze swept over the crowd, daring anyone else to challenge her boss.
“Well,” Madeline finally drawled, “he wanted three bullets in the head. He got them. Would anyone else like to question my new authority?”
Nobody else dared to step forward. Instead, everyone shifted uneasily on their feet. The nooses had been dropped over their necks. Now Madeline was ready to pull them tight.
“As I said,” she continued, stepping over Montoya’s burned, bloody body and approaching the crowd again, “I intend to fulfill my mother’s role as the head of the underworld. Thanks to Mr. McAllister, I know what each and every one of you was paying her. I know all about your homes, your businesses, your rivals, and everyone that supplies and supports all of your various . . . enterprises.”
With every word she said, more and more people turned their hostile glares to Jonah, who gulped down a breath and tiptoed back so that his whole body was pressed up against one of the terrace doors. I’d wondered why Madeline had kept him around this long. She must have spent these past few weeks pumping him for information on how Mab had done things—and all the tribute that she’d been getting from the other crime bosses. Smart. After a few more weeks, once everything was up and running smoothly, she could dispose of him at her leisure. I almost wouldn’t have minded letting Madeline live long enough to devise some truly dastardly fate for Jonah. But I was too committed to my plan to back down now.
Madeline glanced back at Montoya’s body. “And now, since I had to resort to such an unpleasant display, you will all be paying me an even fifty percent.”
Gasps rang out through the crowd, but I studied Madeline with new appreciation. She’d known that someone would call her out, and she was using Montoya’s death as a way to get even more than what she’d already demanded. I was willing to bet that fifty percent of everything in town was what she’d really wanted all along.
“So,” Madeline said, wrapping up her threats, “you can either accept my terms, or you can dirty up my dance floor, just like your colleague did. The choice is yours.”
It wasn’t a choice at all, but nervous chatter surged through the crowd, as everyone talked with their neighbors. But all of the sounds were small, hollow, and empty, and they quickly faded away. Madeline might not have her mother’s Fire magic, but she’d demonstrated how powerful she was in her own right. She’d already won, and everyone knew it.
Slowly, a hush fell over the crowd. Madeline smiled, looking from one face to another, daring anyone to challenge her, but no one did.
One by one, I looked at my friends, still holding their positions in various corners of the ballroom. Owen. Phillip. Xavier. Silvio. Bria. Jo-Jo. Sophia. Finn. Roslyn. They all nodded back at me and started pulling off their wigs and glasses. This was the moment we’d been waiting for, and it was finally time to make my presence known.
“Well, Maddie,” I called out in a loud, sneering drawl, “let me be the first to offer my congratulations on your new position.”
Everyone turned to look at the person who’d just committed suicide by speaking to the acid elemental in such a mocking, derisive way. Puzzled frowns filled their faces, and whispers sprang up, as people tried to figure out who I was.
I stepped out of the shadows and strode across the dance floor, stopping in the middle of the ballroom, about ten feet away from Madeline and Emery. Still holding on to my champagne flute, I planted a hand on my hip and turned to one side, so that I could stare out at all the people gathered around. No one had recognized me yet, so I decided to end their confusion.
I reached up, plucked the black glasses off my face, and tossed them aside. Then I did the same thing with the red wig, making my dark brown hair spill around my shoulders.
It took the bosses several seconds to recognize me, but when they did, the entire ballroom went absolutely, completely, deathly quiet, even more so than when Madeline had been killing Montoya with her magic. Faces paled, sweat beaded on temples, and people almost swooned. Folks hurried to back away from me, and I gave them all a cold, thin smile before I turned to face Madeline, Emery, and Jonah, who had finally realized who I was—and that I was still alive.
Jonah’s mouth gaped open, and he reached for the handle of the terrace door behind him, as if that was all that was kee
ping him from toppling over in a dead faint.
Emery jerked up to her full, seven-foot height, her hands curling into fists and her body bristling with a mixture of surprise and anger.
But Madeline had the most interesting reaction. Her face whitened with shock, and she blinked and blinked and blinked, her eyes snapping open and shut faster than a camera lens, as if I were some ghost that she could will away if only she focused hard enough.
Despite all her initial suspicions and speculations that I might have survived the fire, she’d lowered her guard and let herself finally, fully believe in the illusion of my supposed death. She’d been so smug, satisfied, and secure in her triumph—a triumph that I had just ripped away during the most important moment of her life.
My grin widened.
“Why, it’s so very nice to see y’all again,” I said, addressing the crowd. “I thought that my funeral yesterday was festive, but this—this is something else.”
People shifted on their feet, mouths still gaping open, but everyone kept staring at me, wondering how I could possibly be alive and what I was going to do next.
Finally, when everyone had gotten a good, long look at me, I faced Madeline again. Her shock was rapidly fading, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in her mind as she tried to figure out what I had planned.
“Oh, yes,” I said in another loud, sneering drawl, “I say that we all raise a glass and toast to the new queen of Ashland.”
25
I raised my champagne glass high, but no one in the crowd followed suit. I glanced around, then shook my head and clucked my tongue, as if I were saddened by the sudden lack of support for Madeline.
“Actually, Maddie,” I drawled again, “I wouldn’t celebrate your victory just yet. It looks to me like there’s still some question as to who the biggest, baddest bitch in Ashland actually is. After all, you told everyone that you’d orchestrated my murder. But here I am, just like usual, just like always, so I think we can all see that that’s simply not the case. I don’t want to call you a liar but . . .” I gave a delicate shrug of my shoulders.
Madeline’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How the hell did you survive that fire?”
“Frozen peas,” I quipped. “Who knew they were so good for you?”
Her face creased into a frown, and confused whispers trickled through the crowd. No one got the joke but me. Maybe someday I’d explain it to them. Maybe not. A girl should always keep a few secrets to herself.
Madeline kept staring at me, so I decided to answer at least some of her questions.
“I survived because I’m a badass bitch. That’s all you need to know.”
“But—but—but there was a body!” she sputtered, finally losing her composure.
“There was, wasn’t there? And I have you to thank for that, Maddie. Remember your maid? That poor woman you sent into my restaurant to kill me knowing full well that I would take her out instead? The one whose body you sent Dobson into the Pork Pit to find, but that he never did? Well, she was on ice in one of my freezers. She came in handy when you started tossing Molotov cocktails into my restaurant.”
Madeline’s frown deepened. “But the coroner confirmed that it was you. And your friends, your family, your funeral . . .” Her voice trailed off as her mind began to whirl at how thoroughly I’d fooled her and everyone else.
“Did you really think that you were the only one who could plan, set, and execute a trap?” I snorted. “Please. You were so sure that you’d won that you never even thought that I could be playing you, that I could be setting you up the same way that you had me. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy, Maddie. Your mama would certainly have never made such a mistake. Oh, wait. Actually, Mab did make the same exact mistake back when she tried to kill me and my sister when we were kids. She assumed that we were dead, but we escaped her, and we made her pay for what she’d done to our family. And now I’m here to do the same to you. Like mother, like daughter, after all.”
I cluck-cluck-clucked my tongue, mocking her even more. A few laughs sounded at the edges of the crowd, but they dried up when Madeline turned her gaze in that direction. Two red spots bloomed on her pale cheeks, her body trembled with barely restrained fury, and her hands clenched into fists. A drop of green acid squeezed out from between her tight fingers and fell to the floor, causing the white marble to shriek, wail, and start smoking.
But she quickly regained control of herself. She couldn’t afford not to. Not with this crowd of sharks gathered around her. She might be the strongest among them, but they could still sense weakness, and weakness would get you killed quicker than anything else in Ashland.
So Madeline unclenched her fists and favored me with a dazzling smile. “Well, Gin, it’s all well and good that you survived the fire. Actually, it rather pleases me.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Her smile widened. “Because it will make killing you now all the better.”
She looked past me at the crowd that had now formed a circle around us. “Some of you were questioning my strength. Well, what better way than to kill Blanco right now? Surely, there would be no more unpleasant disputes then. Are we agreed?”
All around me, the bosses nodded, looking back and forth from me to Madeline.
“Well, then, now that that is settled . . .” Madeline glanced at Emery.
Emery waved her hand at the giant waiters. “What are you waiting for? Get her! Now!”
I’d thought something like this might happen, and we’d prepared for it. Before the giants could take one threatening step toward me, my friends erupted from the corners of the room, guns drawn. Xavier drew a bead on the three giants closest to him. Bria did the same to the ones near her corner, as did Phillip and Owen. Jo-Jo pulled a small revolver from her white patent-leather purse, while Sophia stepped out of the crowd, flexing her fists, obviously wanting to use them on someone. Up on the second floor, Roslyn brandished a gun and watched Finn’s back while he grabbed his own weapon and put his red sniper laser sight right in the middle of Emery’s throat. She froze, as did the rest of her men.
“You didn’t really think that I’d come in here without some sort of plan, did you?” I asked Madeline in a soft voice.
She stiffened. “What have you done?”
I ignored her and turned to look at the crowd of people gathered all around us, their eyes on the guns pointed at them.
“My friends and I own this room, along with the rest of the mansion. All the perimeter guards are dead, and, as you can see, we have more than enough firepower to make a serious dent in the lot of you. So if I were you, I’d be good, be quiet, and stay out of the way.” I shrugged. “Otherwise, some unfortunate accidents might happen. And wouldn’t that just be a shame.”
I kept my cold, wintry gaze on the crowd until people started dropping their eyes from mine and lowering their heads. They wouldn’t do anything stupid, at least not right now, and they wouldn’t try to interfere. Not when they realized what I had in mind.
When I was sure that the ballroom was under our control, I crooked my finger at the closest waiter. He swallowed and stepped forward, clearly nervous, but all I did was place my champagne flute on his tray and give him a dazzling smile. I waited until he had scurried back into the crowd before I turned and faced Madeline again.
Her eyes darted around, no doubt her mind spinning and spinning as she tried to figure out what I was up to—and whether I was going to kill her now.
“So,” Madeline said, “you’ve stooped to taking me hostage in my own home. I’d think that something like that would be beneath you, Gin. After all, don’t you prefer to stay hidden in the shadows? Creeping around like that little spider you claim to be? Hmm? Rather cowardly, if you ask me.”
I chuckled. “You think that eliminating two dozen guards, taking over your mansion, and holding all of your guests hostage is cowardly ? I think you need to study up on what that word actually means, Maddie. Then again, we all know what you’re doing. Trying to wigg
le out of a sticky situation that you’ve suddenly found yourself trapped in. You’ve set up so many of your webs for other people, including me. Looks like the black widow doesn’t like to get caught up in the very thing she’s created. I’d say that’s the sort of thing that’s truly cowardly, wouldn’t you?”
That hot, angry blush spotlighted Madeline’s cheeks again. She didn’t like my mocking her, especially when she didn’t have a ready answer or plan of attack. Finally, she just gave up.
“What do you want?” she snapped. “What is the point of this . . . display?”
Instead of answering her, I slowly peeled one black satin glove off my arm, then the other one. I clutched them both in one hand, raising them high so that everyone could see them. Speculative murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“The point? The point is that I can get to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Even an elemental as powerful as you. I thought it would be a good idea to remind everyone of that small fact. Just in case they’d forgotten, what with all those silly rumors going around about my death.”
Madeline ground her teeth together. “Well, then, you’ve made your point. Is there anything else?”
“There’s always something else. You’ve spent the last few weeks tormenting me and mine. Accusing us of things that we didn’t do, causing problems, and in general doing your best to fuck with us all on the sly.”
She didn’t respond.
“Now, I could have done what I usually do. Set up a sniper’s perch out in the woods, put a spray of bullets through your pretty face the next time you stepped outside, then come over and cut your throat just to make sure that you were good and dead.” I gave her a thin smile. “But I know how very fond of playing games you are, so I decided to give you a sporting chance.”
Unease flickered in Madeline’s eyes. “What are you saying?”
I paused a moment for dramatic effect, just like she always did, then stepped forward and threw my black gloves down onto the dance floor at her feet. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m challenging you to an elemental duel, you sadistic bitch.”