I went back over to Tommy and rifled through the dead vampire’s pockets until I found his cell phone. I dialed information and had them give me the number that I wanted. Four rings later, she picked up the phone.
“This is Roslyn,” Roslyn Phillips’ sultry voice filled my ear.
“Hello, Roslyn,” I said. “One of your girls is out here in the woods. She and a couple of her friends had a nasty run-in with a black bear. At least, that’s what you can tell the cops.”
I told her what had happened and where to find Jasmine.
“Who the hell is this?” Roslyn asked when I finished.
“I think you know exactly who this is,” I said. “And you owe me, remember? So quit asking questions and get your ass out here.”
“Gin?”
I hung up without answering her. Because I knew that Roslyn Phillips had gotten the message and that the vampire would come and bring help for Jasmine. Roslyn did owe me—bigtime. Because she knew exactly what I’d done before I’d retired. She knew that I was an assassin. Hell, I’d even killed her brother-in-law, who’d been abusing her sister and young niece. Roslyn talking about such things was partly the reason that Fletcher Lane had been murdered in the first place—because the wrong person had learned about the old man and the fact that he was my handler.
I’d confronted Roslyn about all that at Fletcher’s funeral a few weeks ago. I’d told the vamp in no uncertain terms that she would do whatever the hell I wanted her to until she’d worked off her debt to me—or else. And as much as I’d loved the old man, that would be a bloody long while indeed.
But I pushed Roslyn Phillips out of my mind and went about erasing any trace that I’d been here in the clearing tonight—including retrieving my silverstone knives from Billy’s cooling body. Because while I might officially be retired from being the assassin the Spider, that didn’t mean that I was going to be stupid or sloppy enough to leave any evidence behind.
As I worked, every once in a while, I looked over to check on Jasmine.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I murmured even though she couldn’t hear me. “The cavalry’s on the way.”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, I heard the sharp crackle of heavy footsteps on the fallen leaves, and I knew that Roslyn had arrived with help for Jasmine, who was still unconscious. From my hiding place on the far edge of the clearing, I saw the bob of flashlights through the trees and heard the hoarse shout of voices.
“Over here!” a man rumbled. “I see them!”
“Where?” Roslyn Phillips’ concerned voice drifted over to me. “Jasmine! Jasmine, are you okay?”
After that, things went pretty much as I’d expected them to. Cops arrived on the scene to try to figure out what the hell had happened. Not that they would work too hard at that though, since the majority of the members of the Ashland Police Department were known for their rampant laziness, avarice, and love of bribes.
Men and women moved through the clearing, collecting evidence. Jasmine was packed up and carted off to the closest Air elemental healer to get patched up. The coroner was called to come out and collect Tommy and Billy. And so on and so forth.
Once Jasmine had been stabilized, I saw no need to hang around any longer. Because I just killed people, after all. I didn’t patch them up after the fact. I figured that I’d done my part by keeping Jasmine from getting dead in the first place.
So still softly whistling, I headed back through the woods to Fletcher Lane’s house to start unpacking my boxes, feeling more cheerful than I had in weeks.
Jennifer Estep, Web of Death
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