The Fire elemental wore a floor-length evening gown done in an emerald green that made her hair seem even redder than it actually was. She wore no jewelry except for a flat gold necklace that ringed her throat. My eyes focused on the centerpiece of the design. A circular orange ruby a little smaller than my fist surrounded by several dozen wavy rays. The intricate diamond cutting on the gold caught the light and made it seem as though the rays were actually flickering. A sunburst. The symbol for fire.
Mab's personal rune, used by her alone. For a moment, I sensed the ruby's vibrations. The gemstone whispered of raw, fiery power. The sound meshed perfectly with the shrieking stone of the mansion. Both made my stomach clench.
As I looked at Mab, I couldn't help but think about the file Fletcher Lane had left me on the murder of my family - and the piece of paper he'd tucked inside with Mab Monroe's name on it. Again, I wondered why Fletcher had written down the Fire elemental's name.
Had Fletcher concluded that she'd murdered my family?
Had he merely suspected her? Or had he put her name in there for another reason entirely -
"Earth to Gin," Finn murmured in my ear.
I focused on the here and now once more. "How long have they been standing there talking?"
"Not long," Finn said. "I'd say you have another five or ten minutes before Mab and the others drift off. "
"All right. Keep an eye on them. "
"What are you going to do?"
I stared out at the glittering mass of people. "Find someplace quiet to take care of Tobias Dawson, once I get my hooks into him. "
Finn promised to keep watching Tobias Dawson, and we both hung up. I tucked the cell phone back into the purse Roslyn had given me. It was a tiny thing, but I'd managed to stick one of my silverstone knives inside, along with the compact and tube of healing ointment Jo-Jo Deveraux had provided a few days ago. I didn't think Dawson would go down easily, and I wanted to have some healing supplies on hand in case the dwarf got a couple of shots in on me before he died. I couldn't exactly sneak out of Mab Monroe's party unnoticed if I was bruised and bloody from head to toe.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the giant waiters and headed toward the back of the ballroom. The grand staircase was shaped like a T, and two hallways ran underneath either side of it and connected the ballroom to the other wings of the mansion. I strolled down the left hallway, peering into the rooms I passed. I couldn't very well kill Tobias Dawson on the ballroom floor, so I needed to find a more secluded spot I could lure the dwarf to before I stabbed him to death.
But the hallway wasn't as deserted as I'd hoped. I passed several couples standing against the walls or inside the interior rooms, just out of sight of the ballroom. Some talked softly. Others stared into each other's eyes and sipped champagne. A few necked. But at least one person in every couple wore a heart-and-arrow rune that marked him or her as a hooker from Northern Aggression.
One man wearing the rune necklace grimaced as his vampire paramour sank her fangs deep into his exposed throat. Her eager, sucking sounds reminded me of a kitten mewling. Another man, a dwarf, stood upright, his head tucked up underneath the dress and his face buried in the crotch of a giant woman wearing the rune necklace.
I didn't have to guess what he was doing with his tongue.
The giant had a decidedly bored look on her face. She cooed false encouragement to the dwarf, even as she examined her nails as if debating whether or not she needed a fresh manicure. The giant saw me staring. Her brown eyes landed on the rune necklace around my throat, and she shrugged as if to say, What can you do? I returned her shrug and walked on.
One thing I didn't see back here were any giant guards.
Mab Monroe probably didn't want her more amorous guests to feel like they were being watched. Having a giant loom over you would give just about anyone performance anxiety.
I came to a cross corridor and paused. To my left, another set of doors led out onto the terrace. Another hallway stretched out in front of me, while another one veered right, snaking back underneath the staircase. I turned right and walked deeper into the mansion. The partygoers hadn't gotten too serious about their sexual gymnastics just yet, so this area was deserted. I passed a couple of rooms, none concealed enough for my liking. It wouldn't do any good for me to kill Tobias Dawson and have someone find his body a minute later. I was going to need longer than that to slip out of the mansion after I'd done the job.
So I strolled through the rooms, sipped my champagne, and pretended to admire Mab Monroe's tasteful furnishings while I looked for a spot to stiff Dawson.
One thing actually did catch my interest - a series of rune paintings, not unlike the drawings I had propped up on the mantel in Fletcher Lane's den.
My eyes flicked over the runes mounted on the wall opposite the back of the staircase. A sunburst. A lit match. A teardrop-shaped flame licking at the paper it was on. The framed pieces all had to do with fire or heat in some way, and all were done in burnt siennas, bloody oranges, fiery yellows. It seemed Mab and I shared the same taste in something besides killing peo
ple. Weird. And disturbing.
As I stared at the paintings, an uneasy shiver tickled my spine like a cold finger. Something about the artwork resonated on a primal level with me. Here, something old and knowing whispered in the back of my mind. Here is your enemy.
Not an unusual thought for a Stone elemental to have while in the house of a Fire, or vice versa. Opposing elements just didn't mesh - and neither did their human counterparts. Air against Ice, Fire against Stone. An old, predictable story. I'd heard that voice, felt this unease, before in other places with other elementals. But never this intense.
Again, I wondered about Mab Monroe's name being in Fletcher's folder. I'd been blindfolded so I hadn't seen the bitch's face back then, only heard her cackling laughter as she tortured me. But it could have been Mab. Rumor put her current age at about forty-five. She would have had enough power, even seventeen years ago, to do all the horrible things that had taken place that night. But why?
Why had she murdered my mother, Eira, and my older sister, Annabella? Why had she wanted to kill me? Why had she demanded to know where my baby sister Bria was above all else? I just didn't understand why -
Footsteps whispered on the carpet off to my right, and a large, beefy hand clamped onto my ass and squeezed - hard.
"Hello there, sweetness," a male voice said. "If your front looks as tight as your ass, I'm in for a real good time tonight. "