“I don’t think he’ll mind since Gin’s the one taking them. Even if he does, well, I doubt he will for long. Isn’t that right, Gin?” Violet gave me a crooked smile.
I found myself smiling back. “That’s right, Violet. Thank you.”
Eva looked at her best friend, then at me. Violet slowly pulled the other girl to one side. Eva had a decidedly dazed expression on her lovely face, but I knew Violet would fill her in on what she needed to know. I nodded at Violet and walked past them, out of the office, and back down the long hallway. The girls followed me, but neither one said anything, and Eva didn’t try to stop me again.
I reached the front door, which was still open. Outside, my car beckoned, a silver beacon telling me to get on with things. But I found myself pausing, turning around, and staring at Eva. “If I don’t come back, tell your brother, tell Owen…”
I struggled to find the right words. Spouting mushy sentiment on command had never been one of my skills. Besides, I wasn’t even sure what I felt for Owen Grayson, other than a prurient desire to feel his naked body pressed against my own.
“Tell him what?” Eva asked.
A grim smile tightened my face. “Tell Owen that he’s a hell of a kisser.”
With those words, I stepped outside and shut the door behind me.
Thirty minutes later, I turned off my Benz and clicked on a small flashlight that I kept in the glove compartment. Using the information in Finn’s file, I’d driven up into the most rugged section of the Appalachian Mountains that cut through Ashland, way up north, well above the genteel confines and estates of Northtown. Technically, I was still in the city, but there were more mountains up here than people.
I’d parked the car to one side of a small gas station that lay at the foot of this particular ridge. My Benz hid between a rusted-out pickup truck that might have had green paint at one time and a white Dodge van propped up on cement blocks, its tires long since rotted away to bare rims. It was only seven thirty, but the station had already closed for the evening, probably due to the cold and hard bits of snow that continued to coast around on the night wind. The old, clapboard station reminded me of Warren T. Fox’s store, Country Daze, which wasn’t too far from here.
I played my flashlight over the maps that Finn had compiled for me. Finnegan Lane might be a designer-suit-wearing, caffeine-addicted womanizer of the highest degree, but when he dug into someone, he got every single bit of dirt there was on them. Which is why the folder of information on Elliot Slater contained not only glossy magazine spreads of his mountain retreat but more useful topographical maps as well, along with the blueprints to Valhalla itself.
I sat in the car, feeling the cold creep in through the doors and windows, and studied the maps, searching for the best way to slip into the mansion. First, though, I’d have to hike up the mountain. Only one road curved up the rugged hillside, and whatever guards Slater had posted would be able to see the headlights from any car a half mile from the mansion—something I couldn’t afford to have happen. Like so many of my other jobs over the years, the element of surprise was the key to my success, more so tonight than ever before, since the giant was holding Roslyn Phillips hostage and was doing or had already done who knew what to her.
Depending on what kind of shape Roslyn was in, I might have to come back and drive the car up to get her, but flashing my headlights wouldn’t matter then, since I would have killed everyone in the mansion at that point.
I’d just decided to follow a dry creek bed up to the mansion, when the headlights of another car appeared in front of the gas station. The car slowed, and I spotted Finn behind the wheel of his Aston Martin. I flicked my headlights on and off, so he’d know that I was already here. Finn parked his silver sports car on the other side of the rusted pickup truck. A minute later, he opened the door on the passenger’s side of my Benz and slid inside. He too carried a black duffel bag of supplies.
“Your timing is impeccable,” I said. “I’ve only been here a couple minutes.”
Finn grinned. “Isn’t it always?”
His green eyes flicked to the maps and flashlight in my hands, and the smile dropped from his handsome face. “You found a way in yet?”
“I’ve found a way up the mountain. We’ll worry about getting inside after we reach the mansion.”
I showed Finn the creek bed that we’d be hiking up. He took the map from me and studied the terrain. But after a minute, he put the map down and stared up at the mountain before us. His fingers tapped out a staccato pattern on his thigh.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
Finn sighed, and his hand stilled. “That I hate that it’s come to this. That it’s all my fault. I didn’t expect things to get so complicated. Not with Roslyn or Elliot Slater. If I’d known just how badly the giant was obsessed with her, how messy this whole situation was going to get, I never would have told Xavier that we’d help them. I would never risk you like that, Gin.”
“I know,” I said in a soft voice.
We didn’t speak for a few seconds.
“We don’t have to do this,” Finn finally said. “You don’t have to do this. Roslyn left Jo-Jo’s of her own free will, even after you told her not to, even after you told her that you’d take care of Slater. The best-case scenario is that Slater has just beaten her. But we both know that Roslyn’s probably dead by now, that we could be risking ourselves for absolutely nothing.”
Everything that Finn said was true, and he was only voicing the same troubling thoughts that I’d had on the drive up here. But there was one more thing that we both had to think about before we made our decision.
“And what would Fletcher do if he were here?” I asked. “What would the old man say?”
Finn stared up at the mountain a few more seconds, before turning to face me. “He’d say that we made a promise to Roslyn, and that you can never go back on your word.” A smile tightened Finn’s face. “And he’d grouse that it’s about damn time somebody gave Elliot Slater exactly what he deserved.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “I gave Xavier my word. More importantly, I gave it to Roslyn too. Even if she might not be alive to appreciate it.”
“I know.” Finn reached over and squeezed my hand. “But I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I love you, Gin.”
“I love you too.” I squeezed back. “Now let’s go kill the bastard.”
I climbed into the backseat of my Benz, peeled off the clothes that I’d been wearing at the Pork Pit, and pulled a fresh set out of the duffel bag that Sophia Deveraux had handed me. Thick, black cargo pants, a long-sleeved black turtleneck, a tight-fitting black vest with numerous pockets, boots, socks. I gathered my dark brown hair into a ponytail, then pulled a black watchman’s cap over my head as low as I could and still have a clear field of vision. In the front seat, Finn donned a similar set of black clothes.
Once I was properly attired for the evening’s activities, I took a small tin of black grease out of the bag and smeared it all over my face. Wouldn’t do much good to dress in black from head to toe and have my pale face shining like a beacon in the night. When I finished, I passed the tin over to Finn. He wrinkled his nose but dipped his fingers into the grease and darkened his own face.
I got out of the car and shouldered the duffel bag with its remaining contents, including Finn’s maps, my flashlight, and Owen Grayson’s two long swords. I also slid a pair of night-vision goggles on over my head. A moment later, Finn did the same, bringing his own bag and goggles with him. Our heavy boots crunched on the gravel of the gas station’s parking lot. Under my feet, the sharp stones whispered of the roll of tires over them, the chug-chug-chugs of the gas pumps, the chime of the bell over the door of the station. Normal sounds. Nothing to be worried about—so far.
Finn and I left the parking lot behind and slipped into the woods on the far side of the station. It didn’t take us long to find the dried-up creek bed, and we stepped down into the shallow rut and started working our
way up the mountainside. By walking up the creek bed, all we had to worry about stepping on were loose stones, and the lack of trees and branches in our path let the two of us move quickly and quietly at the same time. We didn’t speak as we walked, saving our breath for the terrain.
We’d only been hiking about twenty minutes when Finn put his foot down on something that snapped with a loud crack. We both froze. The sound reverberated through the immediate area before the wind whipped it down the mountain. Finn and I dropped to the ground, waiting, but no one came to investigate the noise.
When I was sure we hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention, I shone my flashlight on the ground underneath Finn’s boot. To my surprise, Finn had stepped on what looked like a long, brittle femur bone, snapping it in half. Definitely a human bone, probably belonging to a giant, from the length of it. Looked like Fletcher Lane had been right about the mountain being a dumping ground for the bodies of Elliot Slater and Mab Monroe’s enemies.
Finn raised his eyebrows. He knew a bone when he saw it too. I shrugged. Nothing we could do for whomever it had been attached to, so we moved on.
The air grew colder, sharper, the higher we climbed, burning my lungs like liquid fire. I kept my mouth closed and breathed in only through my nose, trying to minimize the sensation. The metallic scent of snow gusted on the night breeze, and heavy clouds clung low to the ground, partially obscuring the moon and stars, before being pushed on by the wind. I wanted all the cover I could get, and for once, luck, that cruel, capricious bitch, seemed to be smiling on me. I knew it wouldn’t last.
A few birds rustled in the thick branches of the maple, elm, and pine trees over our heads, but our footsteps and movements were small and quiet enough for them to keep a silent watch on us, instead of fluttering up into the darkness and alerting whoever might be watching. Besides, they were safe and warm for the night and didn’t want to give up their roosts if they didn’t have to. The birds sensed they weren’t our prey for the evening and were content enough in their trees and nests to let Finn and me pass without comment or criticism.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been walking before the creek bed veered west, away from the mansion. I climbed up out of the shallow rut and slithered forward into the black shadow provided by a large walnut tree. Finn followed me.
According to Finn’s maps, Valhalla lay due east another mile up the mountain. We were still far enough away that I pulled out my flashlight and shone it over the maps, getting my bearings for the final time. Finn peered over my shoulder, doing the same. He nodded, and I turned off the flashlight and stuffed the maps back into my duffel bag. We climbed on.
I took the lead once more, moving more slowly and cautiously than before. Elliot Slater was secure enough in his mountain retreat not to have any exterior security measures, like lasers or dogs. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy of him, but I wasn’t going to complain, as it made things easier for Finn and me. Besides, I’d never liked killing dogs, even if their owner was a cold-blooded bastard who needed to be put down.
Still, the lack of obvious security didn’t mean that Slater hadn’t come up with some other clever, deadly way to booby-trap the perimeter. I would have. So I kept an eye out for trip wires, small holes, and flashes of light that would alert me to the fact that we were approaching a trap—or worse, had just set off some sort of defensive, protective rune. I had no desire to take a fireball to the chest because I’d put my feet or hands somewhere they shouldn’t be. Finn followed my path exactly to further minimize the risk.
But we didn’t stumble across anything, and several minutes later, we crested a ridge that overlooked the mansion.
As its name implied, Valhalla was a massive, six-story structure that took up a good portion of this particular mountain. The building was constructed of thick, heavy wood, inlaid with gray granite and river rock. Several balconies and patios wrapped around the structure, offering sweeping views of the surrounding mountains and hillsides below. It would be a gorgeous spot to take in the blaze of fall color as the leaves changed. But with winter approaching, the leaves had already fallen, revealing the bony, fingerlike fragments of the trees, interspersed with the thick, green boughs of the pines and firs that stood up like rows of jagged, mossy green teeth among the bare maples and poplars.
There was enough light up here for me to pull off the night-vision goggles and look toward the mansion with my own eyes. Beside me, Finn took off his goggles as well. Lights blazed in several windows on the first, second, and third floors, and I spotted a tall shadow moving back and forth in one of the windows. Someone was definitely home tonight.
As if I wouldn’t have guessed by the two giants standing vigil outside the main, first-floor entrance. I’d been right when I’d thought that they’d be able to see any car headlights climbing up the mountain. Several hundred feet of road was visible from the giants’ line of sight, and the area around them had been cleared of all trees and underbrush. It would take me about fifteen seconds to rush from the edge of the forest and reach the giants by the front door—plenty of time for them to alert whoever else was inside the house. We weren’t getting in through the front door, so I turned my attention to the second story.
That story was more or less level with the cleared backyard of the house. An Olympic-size pool stretched out almost to the woods there, probably heated, since it hadn’t been covered up for the season yet. Finn and I crouched behind one of the many pine trees on the hillside overlooking the pool. The tangy scent of sap tickled my nose, but I ignored the sensation, focusing on the scene before me, blocking out everything else but the things I needed to hear and see.
Two giants stood on the stone deck next to the pool, smoking cigarettes and talking softly. They didn’t seem to be carrying any obvious weapons, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a couple of guns on them somewhere. Problematic, but still doable.
Finn tapped my shoulder and pointed at the house itself. I scanned past the two giants and spotted another man sitting in a chair just inside the back door. That giant wet his thumb and flipped another page in whatever book or magazine he was reading.
I frowned. The inside man was worrisome. We could creep forward and drop the first two giants easily enough, but the third man would be sure to spot us—and probably be able to raise the alarm before we could silence him too. I’d much rather backstab Elliot Slater than have the giant lying in wait for me—with Roslyn Phillips already dead.
Finn tapped me on the shoulder again and jerked his thumb backward, telling me to follow him. We slithered back away from the ridge, well out of sight and earshot of the two guards by the pool.
“Why does there always have to be a third man?” I muttered.
“Because Elliot Slater’s no fool,” Finn replied in a soft voice. “You need a distraction, Gin, something to draw at least one or two of the men away from the patio and maybe make the guard inside come out as well. We don’t know how many more giants might be in there, and you need to drop as many as you can out here.”
Finn stared at me, his mouth set into a determined line.
“No, Finn,” I snapped in a fierce whisper. “Forget about it. I’m not using you as bait so I can kill a couple of Slater’s men before I slip inside the house. You know what Slater will do to you.”
“And I know what he’s doing to Roslyn right now,” Finn countered. “Every second we’re out here arguing is another second that he could be hurting her. Face it. This is the easiest way you can get inside and see if Roslyn is still alive.”
He was right. Damn. I hated it when he was right.
Finn’s mouth crooked into a smile. “Besides, you’re always saying that I need to have some sense beaten into me. I’m sure that Elliot Slater would be happy to oblige you.”
I stared at him. “You don’t have to do this, Finn. We can find another way inside.”
“I know,” he replied. “But how long will that take? Every second counts now. Besides, I got us into this mess. Let me do what I can to end it
. You’re the better fighter. I’m the better distraction. You know it’s true.”
I couldn’t argue with him. Not when he was right. Not when he was so determined to help me to help Roslyn. So I blew out a breath and nodded my head. “All right. But the second I find Roslyn and get her out of there, I’m coming after you. And you’d damn well still better be breathing when I get to you. Understand?”
Finn’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “I understand. You just can’t live without me, Gin. There’s no shame in admitting it.”
If I hadn’t been afraid of drawing unwanted attention from the guards below, I would have punched him for spouting that sentimental shit. I settled for rolling my eyes.
“Whatever,” I said. “But if you’re so determined to get yourself killed, you might as well get started.”
Finn snapped his hand up in a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
We didn’t speak after that. I moved back into position on top of the ridge so I could see the two patio guards. Finn disappeared in the shadows to my right. I crouched beside one of the trees and hoped that I was doing the right thing, giving up Finn so I had a chance of saving Roslyn. Because if she was already dead, then this was all for nothing—
The snap-snap of a fallen tree branch fifty feet to my right sounded as loud as a gunshot in the quiet of the dark night. I stilled, scarcely daring to breathe, even though I knew it had to be Finn, getting into position to do whatever he was going to do.
Below me on the patio, one of the guards crushed out his cigarette. I would have thought the action normal, if I hadn’t seen him light it just a few seconds ago. He’d heard the crack too, but he maintained his position. My eyes narrowed. Why would he just stand there? Why wasn’t he tromping up the ridge to investigate?
And then—
Silence.
I huddled closer to the tree that I was hidden behind, sinking even deeper into the shadows, and slowly turned my head to the right, keeping the movement small and steady as I looked for Finn. But Fletcher Lane had also taught his son a thing or two about being invisible, and I didn’t spot Finn among the tangled trees.