Deadly Sting (6 page)

“Did he, now?” I murmured. “How considerate of him.”

Finn had been so insistent that I come to the exhibit that I hadn’t thought too much about exactly why he wanted me here in the first place. Oh, sure, he’d said that Bria was busy and that he wanted to get me out of the house and have some fun, but I was beginning to think he’d had an ulterior motive in mind. Getting me and Owen into the same space was exactly the sort of sneaky, underhanded thing Finn would do and then claim it was for my own good. I loved my foster brother, truly I did, but sometimes his cheerful meddling made me want to wring his neck.

This was one of those times.

“Well,” I said, giving Owen and Jillian a bright smile. “Please excuse me. I really need to go see what Finn is up to. Jillian, it was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she replied.

I looked at my lover, careful to keep my face blank. “Owen.”

“Gin.”

I nodded at him, and he returned the gesture.

And that was that. Nothing else was said, nothing else was done, and nothing had changed between us. I wondered if this was the extent of my relationship with Owen now—cool, distant, polite, impersonal. I wondered if this was all we would ever be now.

My heart clenched at the thought, but I forced myself to smile at the two of them a final time. My teeth ground together and my cheeks ached from the strain, but I managed to keep the expression fixed on my face until I stepped past them. Then I walked away, leaving them to their date.

* * *

I strode through the crowd, the sharp
snap-snap-snap
of my heels against the floor as loud as a series of firecrackers exploding, my wintry gray glare fixed on one man—Finnegan fucking Lane.

He saw me coming and edged behind Eva. Please. As if that would save him. Still, I stopped when I reached the group and addressed everyone in turn.

“Roslyn, you’re looking as lovely as ever. You too, Eva. Phillip, nice to see you.”

The three of them murmured polite greetings to me. I looked past Eva and stared at Finn, who was still keeping the younger woman between the two of us.

“Why, Finn,” I drawled in a voice that was as sugary-sweet as the summer sun tea I made on Fletcher’s front porch. “I didn’t realize you’d asked some of our friends to come here tonight too. You are just
full
of surprises.”

Finn eyed me over Eva’s slender shoulder. “So,” he replied in a voice that was just as easy and unconcerned as mine, “are you planning on killing me right here in the middle of the rotunda?”

I gave him a cool, murderous smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but I rather like the rotunda just the way it is, without your blood decorating the walls. It would be a shame to dirty up all this pretty gray marble, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Personally, I like my blood right where it is, inside my body.”

“Besides, it would be
so
much easier to stab you to death in the parking lot, stuff you into the trunk, stop your car at the entrance to the covered bridge, and heave your dead carcass into the Aneirin River. No muss, no fuss, and no evidence for the cops to find when they finally fish your bloated, rotting corpse out of the water.”

He winced. “I take it things didn’t go well with Owen?”

“No, things did not go well with Owen, unless you think stilted sentences and awkward pauses are the signs of a successful couple.” I glared at Finn. “What were you thinking? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Owen was coming tonight—and that you’d purposefully invited him.”

Finn kept wincing, but he didn’t answer me. Roslyn and Phillip exchanged a puzzled look, but it was Eva’s reaction that caught my eye. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor, a guilty expression on her face if ever there was one. She glanced up, realized that I was staring at her, and let out a small sigh.

“Actually, it wasn’t really Finn’s idea,” Eva admitted. “I was the one who suggested it.”

“And
why
would you do that?”

She sighed again. “Because it’s been almost a month since Salina’s death, and you and Owen haven’t seen each other in weeks. You haven’t even spoken, as far as I know.”

She was right about that, not that I told her so.

“I agree with Eva,” Kincaid chimed in. “You and Owen need to at least start talking again.”

“About what?” I asked, turning to face him. “How I slit Salina’s throat right in front of him? Even though he asked me not to? Or maybe we should talk about how I told Finn to hold him back and how you helped with that? It’s easy for you to tell me to start talking to Owen, especially since it seems like he’s forgiven you, Finn, and everyone else for what happened—everyone except me, that is.”

This time, Kincaid was the one who winced at my harsh words. Still, he didn’t back down. “Salina’s gone, Gin, and I say good riddance to her. But you and Owen are still here. The two of you care about each other, quite deeply, from what I’ve seen. If I were you, I’d be doing my best to fix things between the two of you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t really think you’re in a position to be giving me relationship advice,
Philly
,” I said, using Eva’s childhood nickname for him. “Although I’m glad to see you’re here tonight with someone who’s age-appropriate. You
are
here with Roslyn, right? And not someone else?”

Anger simmered in Kincaid’s blue eyes, and his jaw clenched, making his chiseled cheekbones stand out more. Not too long ago, I’d told Kincaid that I knew he was not-so-secretly in love with Eva. Phillip had helped Eva and Owen when the three of them had been living on the streets as kids, and he’d told me that Eva was the first person who’d ever cared about him. That was why he loved her, even though he was my age, thirty, and about ten years older than her.

Eva looked back and forth between me and Phillip, her brow furrowed, obviously wondering what I was talking about.

I sighed. Just because my love life was on the skids was no reason for me to take my anger and frustration out on everyone else, especially my friends.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that seeing Owen took me by surprise. Especially since he’s here with someone else tonight.”

We all turned to look at the pair in question. Owen was staring blankly at a watercolor that depicted a snowstorm. Jillian stood by his side, murmuring something to him, her arm still threaded through his. I had to admit that she wore the scarlet gown a lot better than I did. They made a handsome couple, Owen dark and rugged in his tux, Jillian like a flash of fire next to him. Sadness filled me, but I tried to ignore the sensation.

“That was the other reason I asked Finn to get you to come tonight,” Eva said. “Jillian.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

She hesitated. “Well, nothing, really. Except for the fact that she’s not
you
.”

I sighed again, then reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate that, Eva, really, I do. But if Owen wants to move on and date other people, then that’s his right.”

No matter how much it hurts
. I didn’t have to say the words. They could all see the pain glinting in my eyes.

We fell silent for a few moments before Kincaid cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m feeling a little parched. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Roslyn and I both politely declined, but Eva stepped over and smiled up at him, her face as bright, warm, and happy as a sunny day.

“I’ll go with you, Philly,” she said.

Eva had her back to me, so she didn’t see me arch my eyebrow at Kincaid again. He noticed, though. A faint blush crept up his cheeks, but he still held out his arm to the younger woman.

“I would be delighted to be escorted by you, Eva,” he said.

Eva giggled and took his arm, and Roslyn, Finn, and I watched them head toward the elemental Ice bar that had been set up on the opposite side of the rotunda.

“Well, I suppose I don’t have to worry about Phillip hitting on me on the ride home tonight,” Roslyn said. “He’s crazy about that girl.”

“I know. Problem is, she’s still a
girl
.”

Roslyn gave me a sidelong glance. “Not that much of one. Not the way she’s looking at him.”

I snorted. “Tell that to Owen when he finds out. Phillip might be his friend, but Eva’s still his baby sister. He’s not going to be happy with anyone she dates, especially not Kincaid, given all his underworld connections and business interests.”

I looked at her.

“Why are you here tonight with Phillip, anyway? I didn’t realize you knew him.”

Roslyn shrugged. “We have business from time to time. Occasionally, he hires out some of my guys and girls for events on his riverboat. Xavier’s also moonlighted for him as a guard at the casino on occasion.”

She was talking about the
Delta Queen
, the luxe riverboat casino Kincaid owned. It was docked not too far away from Briartop Island. The
guys and girls
she was referring to were the hookers she employed at Northern Aggression. Roslyn had been a hooker herself, working the Southtown streets for years like so many vampires did, before she’d saved up enough money to open up her own gin joint.

“Sometimes I think you know more people than Finn does,” I murmured.

“Impossible,” Finn scoffed, grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing giant waiter. “I know everyone who’s anyone, everyone who wants to be someone, and everyone who’s not anyone too.”

I snorted. Roslyn laughed, showing off her small pearl-white fangs.

While Finn grabbed some bite-size deep-fried macaroni and cheese hors d’oeuvres from another waiter, Roslyn put her hand on my arm.

“So how are you really holding up?” she asked, her dark eyes full of sympathy and concern.

I shrugged. “Just taking it day by day. Although coming here tonight and seeing Owen with someone else hasn’t exactly done wonders for my confidence that we can work through our issues.”

The vampire stared across the room, studying the couple. “Oh, she’s definitely interested in him, all right. Anyone can see that from her body language, the way she’s smiling at him, how close she’s standing to him, the way she’s keeping hold of his arm as they wander around the room. But I don’t think Owen is into her at all.”

“Why not?”

She turned back to me. “Because he keeps sneaking looks at you.”

Hope surged through me at her words—bright, beautiful, shining hope. But then I heard Jillian laugh and Owen chuckling along with her, and the happy emotion was snuffed out like a candle flame being doused by a blizzard. Owen might be looking in my direction every once in a while, but he was still here with another woman.

“It’ll be okay, Gin,” Roslyn said, picking up on my darkening mood. “You’ll see. You and Owen care about each other too much not to work things out eventually.”

I let out a breath. “Even though I killed his first love?”

The vampire shrugged her slender shoulders. For all she knew about men and women, even she couldn’t answer that.

And neither could I.

5

Roslyn gave my arm a sympathetic squeeze, then moved off to talk to a male vampire who was waving at her.

That left me standing alone with Finn. Somehow, while I’d been talking to Roslyn, he’d managed to snag a whole tray of hors d’oeuvres from one of the female waiters. In addition to the deep-fried macaroni, he was also scarfing down baked phyllo cups stuffed with creamy gourmet chicken-apple salad, pineapple boats piled high with a light, airy mixture of cream cheese and toasted slivered almonds, and mini fruit tarts topped with fresh blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries.

“You should make these mac-and-cheese things at the restaurant,” Finn said, popping another one into his mouth. “Because they are absolutely
divine
.”

I grabbed one off the tray and bit into it. The crust was crispy, buttery, and golden brown, while the inside was the perfect temperature—not too hot to burn your tongue but warm enough that the sharp cheddar cheese still melted in your mouth.

“Not bad,” I said after I’d finished it. “But they could use some more cheese and a bit of spicy kick in the filling. A dash or two of cayenne pepper or maybe even a sprinkle of cumin to give it some smoky heat.”

Finn huffed. “Well, I think they’re pretty good just the way they are. If you’re going to criticize, then I’m eating the rest of them.”

“Knock yourself out.”

One by one, Finn devoured every single thing on the tray. When it was empty, he looked mournfully at the crumbs on the smooth silver surface, his mouth turning down into a pout. Then a waiter passed by with another tray of champagne, and Finn perked right back up. He bowed and gallantly handed the empty tray to the waiter in exchange for a glass of bubbly.

“Now, on to more important matters,” Finn said, after his thirst had been quenched. He stabbed his finger in Owen’s direction. “Sandy and Samantha are going to hear
all
about this little fashion faux pas.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? Who are you talking about?”

“The two saleswomen at the Posh boutique. Sandy was the blonde, Samantha was the redhead,” Finn said. “Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t bothered to get their names. I figured saving them from the robber was good enough.

“Well, they
assured
me that your dress was an original, an absolute one-of-a-kind. In fact, they swore up one side and down the other that you were the only person to ever even try it on, so I happily let you pay their outrageous price for it.”

“How noble of you.”

Finn pretended not to hear my snide words and went right on with his rant. “But now here’s some other sweet young thing wearing your dress at the biggest event of the summer. And not just any other woman but the one who came waltzing in on Owen’s arm.” He fumed for a moment. “Oh, yes, Sandy and Samantha are going to be getting a
very
harsh phone call from me Monday morning.”

“It’s just a dress. So another woman has on the same one. So what?”

His mouth dropped open, and he looked at me in horror. “Please tell me that those words did
not
just come out of your mouth. It is not just a dress—it is
your
dress. At least, I thought it was. Sandy and Samantha
assured
me that it was. They are going to be very, very sorry they misled me.”

Finn went on a tear then, pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly with his champagne glass, and talking all about how he was going to take his fashion wrath out on the two saleswomen for daring to sell my dress to another woman.

I just sighed and listened to him rant. No matter how long I knew him, I didn’t think that I would ever fully figure out or understand the inner workings of the mercurial mind of Finnegan Lane.

* * *

Finn eventually wound down, and the two of us strolled around the rotunda, but I couldn’t concentrate on the showcase of Mab’s loot. Two things were on my mind: how I could come back later and steal my family’s runes, and Owen and Jillian.

The first one wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Other than the plethora of giant guards working tonight, security at the museum didn’t seem all that tight. Oh, I was sure there were some lasers, alarms, and other hidden measures that would snap on when the lights went out, but there weren’t nearly as many cameras as there should have been in the museum, and it would be easy enough for me to stroll through their blind spots. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

As for Owen and Jillian, I kept watching the two of them out of the corners of my eyes. Laughing, talking, drinking champagne. They seemed to be having a good time together. But more than once, my eyes met Owen’s, and it was all I could do to look away. But then, two minutes later, my gaze would find his again.

If I stayed in the rotunda, I’d just keep staring at Owen, so I decided to leave. Besides, several of the underworld bosses were still eyeing me with hostile intent, and I was tired of their murderous glances.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I told Finn. “I need some air.”

He was now talking to a petite vampire wearing an emerald choker and a matching tiara. He waved a distracted hand at me, telling me that he’d be fine on his own. Of course he would. Finn had never met a stranger.

I shook my head and left the exhibit room. I hadn’t noticed before, but the crush of people inside the rotunda had raised the temperature in there by several degrees, and the cool, drafty air outside felt good against my flushed cheeks. I wandered from one hallway to the next, looking at all the objects on display. I hadn’t taken an art class in a while, but I began to think that maybe I should mix it up and try painting or some sort of sculpture course next semester, instead of another literature class.

All of the art was housed on the first, main floor of the museum, and I roamed from one wing to the next and back again. The upper levels had all been closed off for the gala, but there wasn’t much to see in them, anyway, just staff offices, spaces for artists to work, and rooms where paintings and more were being slowly, lovingly restored and authenticated.

The rotunda was in the front of the main wing of the museum, and it took me a while to make a full circuit through all of the hallways that curved around it. I passed a few more giants in my wanderings, but there weren’t nearly as many guards out here as there had been in the rotunda. Eventually, I wound up back where I started, standing in the entrance that led to the exhibit of Mab’s things. Since I wasn’t ready to go in and look for Finn just yet, I headed for the bathroom.

Like everything else at Briartop, the bathroom was done on a grand, impressive scale. Several white crushed-velvet settees and matching overstuffed chairs had been arranged in the outer powder room, while the bathroom itself featured more gray marble, along with silver faucets and oval-shaped, silver gilded mirrors. A tangle of briars and brambles curving around a fancy letter
B
—the museum’s rune—had been etched into the edges of the glass, adding to the mirrors’ slick, glossy elegance.

I went into a stall, did my lady business, and came back out. A couple of women finished washing their hands and left, leaving me alone. I washed my hands, then leaned forward and peered at my reflection.

On the outside, I looked as calm as ever—distant, remote, cold even. I wondered if I was the only one who could see the purple smudges under my eyes, the ones the makeup couldn’t quite hide. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the faint slump in my shoulders or the way my mouth always seemed to turn down with a hint of sadness these days.

Because the truth was that Owen wasn’t the only one haunted by Salina’s death—I was too.

More than once, I’d dreamed of the night I’d killed her. The sharp, curved thorns of her water magic ripping into my skin, trying to tear me apart. My desperate struggle to release enough magic to overcome hers. My elemental Ice glittering all around us like a field of cold crystal. The way Salina’s blood had spilled down her neck in a cascade of crimson teardrops.

Killing Salina had been a necessity. She’d told me herself that she’d never quit, not until she’d taken her revenge on everyone she thought had wronged her. And that she’d never stop loving Owen or trying to win him back by any means necessary—including murdering me.

Yes, killing her was something that just had to be done, but it didn’t make the memories any easier to bear.

Because there was a second twisted truth to this situation, one that kept me up late brooding into the dark of the night: the fact that I was more like Salina than I cared to admit. Cold, brutal, ruthless. And I’d done some of the same things she had over the years, like killing people for revenge, or money, or because letting them live just didn’t fit into my plans.

Maybe Owen was right to keep his distance from me. Maybe it would be better for both of us if I went ahead and ended our relationship for good. That way, at least maybe he could move on, even if I couldn’t—

The door erupted open with such force that it almost banged against the marble wall before a hand reached out and stopped it at the last second. My head snapped to the right. Thoughts of Salina still filled my mind, and for a crazy moment, I thought the water elemental was coming after me again, or at least her ghost was.

But it wasn’t Salina who stepped into the bathroom—it was the giant waiter who’d spoken to me earlier. Curly auburn hair, hazel eyes, nice features. The same waiter who’d been hovering nearby while McAllister and I had been insulting each other.

The giant realized that I was watching her. Maybe it was the hard, flat stare I gave her, but she hesitated a moment before stepping into the bathroom and letting the door swing shut behind her.

“Sorry about the door,” she said, a slightly sheepish tone in her twangy voice. “It got away from me.”

I didn’t respond. All giants were strong, but she’d practically ripped the door out of its frame in her haste to get in here. And she’d pulled at least one of the hinges loose, since the door didn’t quite line up with the wall anymore.

Given her seeming urgency, I expected the giant to scurry into a stall, but instead, she meandered over to one of the sinks and turned on the faucet. For a moment, the only sound was the steady hiss of water streaming over her hands.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” she said.

“Just gorgeous,” I muttered.

The giant quickly washed her hands and dried them, before throwing her used paper towel into the silver trash container. I’d thought she’d go back out to the party, but instead, she turned to look at me again. She stared at me for another second before smiling and leaving the bathroom. The door shut behind her, once again not quite closing the way it should.

Well, that had certainly been odd. But since the giant hadn’t pulled a gun out of her pants pocket, come at me with clenched fists, or otherwise tried to end my existence, I put her out of my mind and turned back to the mirror.

I was staring at my reflection and brooding once more when the door opened again a few seconds later. Only this time, it wasn’t the giant who stepped through—it was Jillian Delancey. Of course. Because that was just my kind of luck.

Jillian stopped when she saw me standing in front of the mirrors. I wondered if she was as offended by the fact that we were both wearing the same dress as Finn was, but I decided not to be rude and ask.

“Oh,” she said. “Hello again . . .”

“Gin,” I said, when it became apparent that she didn’t remember my name. “Like the liquor.”

“Gin. Right.”

Jillian walked over and put her small black beaded clutch down on the counter. Even though Finn had made me buy a purse to match my dress, I hadn’t bothered bringing it inside the museum. I had my knives. That was all I needed.

Jillian opened up her clutch and pulled out a tube of scarlet lipstick, along with a small compact so she could touch up her face.

I washed my hands again, just to have something to do, and I took my sweet time drying them off. Finally, Jillian finished with her makeup. She put everything back into her bag, snapped the top shut, and headed toward the door. But just before she reached it, she turned around and faced me.