Still, I thought back over my dreams, my memories, trying to find the reason for them, if there was such a thing. I’d thought that nothing could ever be more horrible than witnessing the murder of my family, but in some ways, the pain Sebastian had inflicted on me had been even worse.
I’d been a kid back then, ambushed and tortured in the middle of the night by a stranger who was older and stronger. There was no way I could have known what was coming.
But Sebastian had wormed his way past all of my defenses, which I’d thought were so strong, clever, and impenetrable. But he’d fooled me as easily as he had everyone else. I’d been lucky to escape the mausoleum with my life, and luckier still to have made it to Finn and Fletcher in time to save them both.
Or was it luck? The only kind of luck that Fletcher had taught me to believe in was bad luck. He said that we made everything else ourselves. I didn’t know about that, though. But I’d survived all the other horrible things that had happened to me, and somehow I had survived Sebastian Vaughn too, despite his best efforts to kill me.
But I wasn’t the only one who’d suffered at his hands. Cesar was dead because of his scheming. And Charlotte would continue to suffer, continue to be abused by her brother, unless I did something about it.
She probably wished that she hadn’t, now that she knew what I’d done to her father, but Charlotte had saved my life last night. If she hadn’t woken me up when she did, Sebastian would have gotten Porter to tie me down to the bed, and the two men would both probably still be torturing me right now. And Finn and Fletcher might be dead too.
I owed Charlotte for that, more than she would ever realize. But I also owed her for being so very wrong about her father, for taking away what was left of her family, just as the Fire elemental had taken my mother and sisters from me all those years ago. That was one of the things I hated the most about this whole situation, how I’d become just like that mysterious killer thanks to Sebastian’s machinations and my own impetuousness.
But I couldn’t change what I’d done. I couldn’t bring Cesar Vaughn back to life. But I could sure as hell make certain that Sebastian died for his sins.
Oh, I knew that killing Sebastian wouldn’t make up for taking Charlotte’s father away from her. It wouldn’t make up for anything I’d done, not one damn thing. Nothing would.
But I still had to try, all the same.
So I threw back the covers and got out of bed.
30
It was after ten, and everyone else was still asleep. It was Sunday, so the salon was closed, and Fletcher and Sophia didn’t have to get up to open the Pork Pit.
It was the perfect time to make brunch for everyone. So I tiptoed downstairs, went into the kitchen, and started rummaging through the cabinets and the refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for the spread I had in mind.
I whipped flour, sugar, salt, eggs, and milk into a frothy pancake batter, then added some fresh summer blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries that Jo-Jo had left sitting out on the counter. I spooned generous dollops of the creamy berry mixture into a hot skillet that I’d melted a little butter in. While the pancakes cooked, I also crisped up some bacon, put on a pot of chicory coffee, and made fruit smoothies with fresh-squeezed orange juice, vanilla yogurt, and a drizzle of sourwood honey that Jo-Jo had bought at some store called Country Daze, according to the label.
I’d thought that I would keep obsessing about Sebastian, but I quickly, easily lost myself in the rhythms of mixing and stirring, flipping and frying, blending and frappéing. More than that, I enjoyed the motions, knowing that the end result would be a hot, hearty, delicious meal for the people I loved. Who knew that cooking could be so cathartic?
I made more than enough for everyone and left big platters of food on the butcher’s-block table in the kitchen. I also grabbed a wooden tray out of one of the cabinets and piled it high with food, dishes, napkins, silverware, and two tall glasses filled with the orange smoothie, along with a cup of steaming chicory coffee for Fletcher. I took the tray up to the bedroom where he was sleeping and knocked on the door.
“Come on in, Gin.”
I twisted the knob, opened the door, and stepped into the room. “How did you know it was me?”
He grinned. “Because you’re the only one I know who can make pancakes and bacon smell that divine.”
I grinned back at him. “And you’re a shameless flatterer, just like your son.”
Fletcher’s grin widened. “Charm has its uses.”
I thought of Sebastian, and my smile slipped. “Yeah.”
Fletcher sat up in bed, and I put the tray on his lap before pulling a rocking chair from the corner of the room over to his side. We divvied up the food and dug in. I took the time to savor every single bite. The light, fluffy, fruity pancakes; the slightly smoky, salty bacon; the tart, tangy orange smoothie that washed everything down.
We finished eating. Fletcher put the tray on the nightstand beside his elbow, then leaned back against the headboard and let out a loud, contented sigh.
“That was a mighty fine breakfast.”
“I do try.”
He grinned again. “That you do.”
We fell silent again, although we kept staring at each other.
Finally, I raised my chin and squared my shoulders. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
Fletcher shook his head. “I told you last night, and I’ll tell you again in the light of day. Don’t blame yourself, Gin. I didn’t see what Sebastian was really up to either, not until it was too late, and I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”
“True. But you’re not the one who fell so easily for his lies. That was all me.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You have to hand it to him, though. He definitely has skills. And his magic . . .” My voice trailed off. “He’s strong, Fletcher. Very strong.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “But not as strong as you are, Gin.”
I shook my head. “That’s where you’re wrong. He is stronger than I am. He’s a powerful elemental. Certainly the most powerful Stone elemental I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’re the best damn assassin I’ve ever seen,” Fletcher snapped right back. “Magic is all well and good, but you don’t need it to do what you do. That’s the difference between you and Sebastian. He does. Not only that, but he needs people to do his dirty work for him. That’s why he came to us instead of killing his father himself. He likes manipulating people, getting them to do what he wants without them even realizing that they’re playing right into his hands. Just like you, Finn, and I did. Sebastian might like to hurt people, but he likes to think that he’s above everything too, including folks like us.”
Everything he said was true, but it didn’t make me feel any better about things. Still, I knew what I had to do, so I drew in a breath and raised my gaze to his. “I have to do this by myself.”
Fletcher nodded. “I know. I know you do, Gin, and it’s what I’ve been training you for all these years. You were strong enough to get away from Sebastian last night. I trust that you’re strong enough to end him tonight.”
I picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Even though I completely messed up? I let him get too close to me. I let him figure out who we were and what we do.”
I even let him into my heart, a sad, tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind.
“Everyone screws up from time to time,” Fletcher said. “Including me.”
“But even if I kill him, it still might not be over. I don’t know who else he might have told about me, about us. I don’t think he told Mab my name, but at the very least, Porter knows who I am. We could still be in danger. Even worse, someone could sell us out to our enemies. The Tin Man’s and the Spider’s. Who knows how many people might come after us then?”
Fletcher shrugged. “Then we’ll deal with those people if and when they decide to target us. There’s nothing else we can do.”
I wanted to scream in frustration, but he w
as right. There was nothing we could do but hope that Sebastian had kept his suspicions about our real identities and purposes to himself.
“When are you leaving?” Fletcher asked.
“In a few hours. After I get ready. I don’t want to give Sebastian time to think up a new plan or to realize that I’m still alive and coming for him.”
He nodded, then tossed back the covers and got to his feet, revealing a pair of worn blue flannel pajamas.
“What are you doing? You need to rest. You’re not coming with me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No,” Fletcher said. “But you need someone to drive you over there and wait until you come out again, and that someone is going to be me.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he waved a hand, cutting me off.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to interfere or get in the way of what you need to do. I know better than that. But I want my spot of revenge too, and I’ll be more than happy to take it by delivering you to Sebastian’s door. Come on, Gin. Let an old man have his fun.” His voice took on the same wheedling note that I’d heard in Finn’s a hundred times before. Fletcher grinned at me, and I smiled back.
“Okay, okay, you can drive me,” I said. “Just let me get my things, and then I’ll get on with the business of killing Sebastian Vaughn.”
• • •
Several hours later, I crept through the woods at the edge of the Vaughn estate. Fletcher had dropped me off about a mile from the gate that led into the estate, and I’d spent the last thirty minutes hiking through the woods until I reached the back side of the property. It was after four now, and the sun still blazed overhead. Despite the sweltering heat, I was dressed the way I always was for one of my jobs: black cargo pants, long-sleeved black T-shirt, black boots, and a black vest lined with silverstone.
And I had my knives on me, all five of them this time. One up either sleeve, one in the small of my back, and one in either boot. If I didn’t kill Sebastian, it wouldn’t be for lack of adequate weaponry.
I hunkered down inside the tree line between a large maple with branches that arched up into the sky and a rhododendron with pale pink flowers that drooped in the heat. The humidity was even more oppressive than usual, and dark clouds had started to gather to the west, slowly turning the sky an eerie, brooding black. It would storm soon.
I scanned the grounds, but everything appeared quiet. A few people moved in and around the mansion, housekeepers taking trash outside, movers hauling out rented tables and chairs, a few gardeners doing a bit of pruning. The staff was still cleaning up from the party last night and going about their day as if everything was normal.
The only things I didn’t see were a couple of giants patrolling the grounds, as they sometimes did. But of course, they wouldn’t be here—Fletcher, Finn, and I had killed them all last night. From what I knew about Sebastian’s security force, Porter was the only man he had left now, unless he’d strong-armed some of the construction workers into doing double duty for him. But I doubted he would do that. Sebastian would want to keep up the appearance that everything was fine, despite the fact that he’d sent out six men last night, and none of them had returned.
Still, there seemed to be a bit of tension among the workers. The gardeners kept looking over their shoulders, as though they expected someone to creep up behind them while they were whacking weeds, and one of the cooks shrieked when the lid on one of the garbage cans flew shut because of the wind, banging like a clap of thunder.
Something had the staff on edge, and I was willing to bet that it was Sebastian. He would have realized hours ago that something had happened to the giants he’d sent after Finn and Fletcher. I wondered if he had a creeping sense of dread that things weren’t as neatly tied up as he thought they were. I wondered if he’d realized that he’d declared war on Finn and Fletcher by sending his men after them.
I wondered if he’d realized that I was still alive and coming for him.
Part of me hoped so. I wanted him to wonder where I was, what I was up to, and when I was going to kill him. I wanted him to sweat, worry, and wring his hands in helpless frustration, just as I had last night when I realized that he’d sent his thugs after the people I loved. It wasn’t smart, and it certainly wasn’t logical, but I wanted Sebastian to know that I was going to be the reason for his death, nobody else.
I stayed in my position at the edge of the woods until the sun started to set. The storm was almost here, and the sky had darkened to an eerie blue-black. Lightning crackled in the distance. The kitchen staff scurried back inside the mansion, and the gardeners put away their tools and did the same. Nobody wanted to be out in the elements when the rain came. I didn’t mind it, though. The storm matched my rage—strong, wild, electric, unstoppable.
When I was sure that everyone was inside and no one was looking in my direction, I left the woods behind, circled around one of the ponds, and made my way over to the crumbled mausoleum. In the fading light, it looked smaller and more pitiful than I remembered. The elegant, soaring dome had collapsed in on itself, and the entire structure was now no more than a ten-foot-high pile of rocky rubble.
I crept closer to the crushed mausoleum, crouched down, and put my hand on the stone. The dark mutters of Sebastian’s magic echoed back to me, the black tendrils of his power infecting each and every one of the rocks. I concentrated on the sounds, sinking even deeper into the stone, and searching for any hint that Sebastian had come back out here to check and see if I was really dead. I would have, if six of my giants had failed to come home last night. But apparently, Sebastian was confident that he’d at least accomplished my murder, because I didn’t hear any worried mutters in the stone or anything else to indicate that he’d returned to the scene of his crime. He still thought I was dead. Good.
I eased up to the side of the mausoleum and looked out over the lawn. The coast was clear, so I darted across the grass and over to the mansion, plastering myself against the side of the building. I was close to the kitchen, so I crept up and peeked in through the windows, but the space was empty. All the workers must have finished their chores and gone back to their quarters for the rest of the day, since it was Sunday. I could have made a couple of Ice picks to jimmy one of the kitchen doors and slip inside, but I didn’t.
Instead, I reached out, grabbed the side of the mansion, and started to climb.
I could have crept through the first floor and made my way to the upper levels of the mansion, where Sebastian was more likely to be, but there was too much risk of running into a maid and having her scream and sound the alarm that I was here and out for blood. So I decided to climb instead.
Given all the balconies, crenellation, and trellises, it was easy enough for me to scale up to the second floor, but I didn’t stop there. I had a feeling that I knew exactly where Sebastian would be, the place he had coveted for so long: his father’s office.
To my surprise, the library windows were wide open. I started to pull myself up a few feet higher so I could peer over one of the windowsills, but something made me hesitate. Given the sweltering heat of the day, I would have expected the windows to have been shut tight, in order to keep all of the precious air-conditioning circulating inside the mansion. Sure, someone could have opened the windows in order to let the cool air from the storm blow inside, but the rain was still at least half an hour off, maybe more. There was simply no reason the windows should have been open that wide—unless Sebastian was planning some sort of trap for me.
He’d seen me outside of Dawson’s library, and with his Stone magic, he might have even sensed that I had scaled the outside of the mansion so I could look in through the library windows. Maybe he thought that I’d do the exact same thing again here. Either way, it all seemed just a little too easy.
So I climbed up past the third floor, going to the fourth. I looked left and right along the wall, but all of the windows were closed on this level, further confirming my suspicions. Sebastian might no
t know that I was alive, but he’d realized that someone was probably coming after him, and he’d taken the appropriate precautions.
I climbed over to the closest window, hooked my arm over one of the shutters for support, and clung there. I reached for my Ice magic and used it to create a long, thin wand, which I jammed into the top of the window, popping the lock. A few seconds later, I was inside the mansion, with the window closed and locked behind me. No lights burned on this level, and given the dark sky outside, the interior of the mansion was murky with shadows. I moved from one hallway to the next, a knife in my hand, searching for any sign of Sebastian or Porter. They were both going to die, and I wasn’t too particular about whom I killed first.
I quickly searched the fourth floor, but neither man was here, and I didn’t hear any movement on the levels above my head. They had to be downstairs, most likely somewhere close to the library, waiting to see if I’d be stupid enough to fall into their trap. I crept over to a set of stairs and eased down to the third floor.
Lights blazed on this level, which left me few pools of shadows to hide in. Still, I managed it, moving from one hallway and one room to the next.
I checked Sebastian’s bedroom first, but he wasn’t relaxing inside the opulent space. I stared with disgust at the ebony bed with its white silk sheets and perfectly fluffed pillows, thinking about how easily I’d let Sebastian seduce me with his pretty words and lies. A wild urge seized me to palm another knife and use the sharp blades to slice through the sheets, the pillows, and even the mattress, until they were all as torn and tattered as my heart. But I forced myself to focus. Ripping up the bed wouldn’t change what had happened between Sebastian and me, but killing him would.
So I moved on. I went from room to room, searching for him and keeping an eye out for Porter too, but the two men were nowhere to be found. Finally, I came to the last room on this floor, the library.