No one said a word.

Mab let out a pleased, pealing laugh. "I thought not."

She turned and snapped her finger at one of her giants. "Bring the car around. I'm finished here."

And then she walked away - just picked up the skirt of her long, forest-green evening gown and calmly walked away like she hadn't just burned a man to bits and enjoyed every second of it.

Less than a minute later, the Fire elemental slid into the back of a black limo. One of her men shut the door behind her, then scurried around and got in the front. The driver put the vehicle in gear, and the limo coasted down the long driveway. Even when the car had disappeared from sight, everyone stood where they were, afraid to move, afraid that Mab might come back and do the same thing to them that she'd done to Dubois.

All the while, the girl kept crying. The boy who'd been holding her back went over, crouched down beside her, and put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't know what to do or say anymore than anyone else did. After a few seconds, the girl turned and threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him over onto the grass. He stroked her long blond hair and whispered words to her that I couldn't hear, although I imagined they were your usual sort of comforting lies about how everything was going to be okay.

I eyed Dubois's still smoldering body. No, everything was a long, long way from okay.

Eventually, the guests roused themselves out of their stunned state and began murmuring to each other.

"Can't believe Benedict thought he could really kill Mab . . ."

"He should have known better. . . ."

"If you ask me, he got what he deserved for being so foolish. . . ."

The last voice was a little louder and snider than the others had been - loud enough for the girl to hear. Her sobs stopped, and her head snapped around. She shoved the boy away and got to her feet, her hands curling into fists by her sides.

"Why didn't you help him?" she yelled at the crowd. "Why did you all just stand there? You were supposed to be his friends! Cowards! You're nothing but dirty rotten cowards! The whole lot of you!"

No one answered, but the guests edged away from her and dropped their eyes in shame.

Finally, a giant stepped forward, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. I recognized him as one of Dubois's bodyguards.

"Calm down, Salina," he said. "You know we couldn't save your father. Not from Mab. Not without dying ourselves. There was nothing we could do."

The girl stared up at the giant a moment, then smiled - a bright, sunny smile that was at odds with her red, tear-streaked face. Something about her expression made me uneasy. I started to move forward, but Fletcher grabbed my arm and held me still. The old man shook his head at me.

"You're right, Carl," the girl said in a sweet voice. "You couldn't do anything - but I can."

She reached into the giant's jacket, plucked his gun from the holster on his belt, and shot him in the chest with it.

Carl screamed with pain and surprise. He staggered back, but the girl went after him.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

She kept right on shooting him. Giants could take a lot of damage, but getting pumped full of lead at point-blank range will take a toll on anyone. Carl staggered back, his feet slid out from under him, and he landed on his back on the grass. But still, the girl wasn't done.

She walked over and stood by the giant's side.

"Salina . . . please . . . stop . . ." he said through a mouthful of blood. "It wasn't . . . my fault. . . . You have to . . . know that. . . ."

That sunny, eerie smile curved the girl's lips again, and her hand tightened on the gun.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

She emptied the rest of the magazine into his head.

Blood arced up through the air and spattered onto her, but the girl didn't care. She kept pulling the trigger until the gun was empty.

Click.

She let out a disgusted snort and threw the weapon down on the giant's bloody chest. After a moment, she realized that everyone was watching her in horrified silence, just the way they had Mab. Rage flashed in the girl's eyes, and she started forward to do - something, I didn't know what exactly. The crowd backed away from her, giving her the same wide berth they would a wild, rabid animal that was about to charge at them.

"Salina! Salina!" the boy said, grabbing her from behind and pinning her arms by her sides. "That's enough!"

"No, it's not!" she screamed, struggling to break free of him, struggling to throw herself into the group of people in front of her and claw at them with her bare hands. "He needed to pay! They should all pay for just standing there! For just letting it happen! For letting my father die!"

The girl struggled with the boy a few more seconds before her screams dissolved into sobs once more. The boy put his arms around her and held her again while she cried.

For a minute, everyone just stood there and watched. Then, one by one, the guests began walking across the lawn, careful to skirt around Dubois's and the giant's bodies as they headed to their cars.

Fletcher and I were among the last to leave. The old man looked at the still-sobbing girl with a grim expression on his face. "She's going to be trouble later on," he said in a dark voice. "For anyone who crosses her in any way."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

To me, she was just a girl - a girl who'd watched her father be horribly tortured and murdered, just like I'd seen happen to my mother and Annabella. My heart ached for her, and I wanted to go over to the girl and put my arms around her, just like the boy was doing. At least she had him to comfort her, to help her. That was something. I hadn't had anyone.

Instead of answering me, the old man shook his head. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Fletcher put his arm around me, and we hurried across the lawn, going back to the kitchen with the rest of the staff under the pretense of getting our things and getting out of there. Before we went into the mansion, I looked over my shoulder a final time.

The boy had moved over to talk to another one of Dubois's bodyguards. He had his arm around the girl's shoulders, but he didn't seem to realize that she wasn't listening to what he was saying to the giant. Instead, the girl was staring down at Carl's body. But the weird thing was that she almost looked . . . happy. Satisfaction filled her face, and she was smiling again, although it seemed like there was something wrong with her expression, that it was somehow twisted into something far more sinister -

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" yelled an angry voice, startling me awake.

Chapter 25

"Seriously, are you out of your mind?" that same voice asked again.

My eyes snapped open, and I realized I was staring at a ceiling that featured a soft, pretty, cloud-covered fresco. Jo-Jo's. I was in the dwarf's house. Somehow, I'd gotten all the way from Cooper's forge, down the mountain, and over to Jo-Jo's salon in a ritzy Northtown suburb. Since I was lying in one of her upstairs bedrooms, that meant she had already healed me, had already fixed all the damage Salina had inflicted when she'd tried to drown me with her water magic. Good. That was good.

What weren't good were the bangs, shouts, and general commotion I heard coming from downstairs.

"Just let me talk to Salina," another voice said.

Owen. That was Owen's voice.

"And do what?" demanded the first voice, which I now recognized as Finn's. "Ask her to apologize to Gin for almost drowning her? Or maybe you're going to get her to do a double apology, for almost blasting Cooper to death with her water magic?"

Silence. Then -

"I can't believe you're still defending her," a third, softer, feminine voice jumped into the mix. Eva, this time.

"I'm not defending her," Owen replied. "But Salina obviously needs help."

"Oh yeah," Finn sniped. "She needs help in the form of a bullet to the head - nothing else."

All the voices started talking at once, arguing with each other. I sighed, wondering how long my friends, family, and lover had been fighting. Probably since they'd brought me here. I glanced over at the window. Morning sunlight was creeping through the curtains, warming the entire room, and the clock by the bed read eight thirteen. We'd gone up to Cooper's about four o'clock yesterday afternoon, which meant I'd been in bed for more than twelve hours. Not surprising. Air magic always took a toll on you mentally as your brain tried to catch up to the fact that your body was well once more. Plus, I'd gotten my ass kicked. I still needed a few more hours' sleep to really be myself again.

The voices continued arguing, telling me it was time to rise and shine, whether I felt like it or not. I sighed again, threw back the covers, sat up, and realized I wasn't alone.

Kincaid was there with me.

The casino boss sat in a chair in the corner, reading one of Jo-Jo's beauty magazines. He looked up at the sound of me stirring in the bed.

"Getting some tips on how to keep your ponytail looking all nice and shiny?" I quipped.

He put the magazine on the table by his elbow. "Well, I always like to look my best. Apparently, it's all about which conditioner you use."

We fell silent. Kincaid sat there studying me, and I did the same to him. Instead of his usual suit, he'd dressed down today in a pair of black jeans, boots, and an expensive gray polo shirt that stretched across his shoulders.

"Welcome back," he said, for once without a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"I suppose I have you to thank for that."

He nodded. "I saw you take off into the woods after Salina so I chased after you while Owen stayed with Cooper. I had an idea of where she would go."

"The creek."

He nodded again. "The creek. Salina used to spend hours there sitting by the water when we were younger and Owen was busy working with Cooper. She saw me coming and took off through the trees, and I realized you were in the bottom of the creek. I'd just started to wade in to try and get you out when this silver light erupted out of the water, and the whole creek froze over, like it was the dead of winter instead of early May."

Kincaid gave me a calculating look, and I knew he was thinking about my magic and what he'd seen me do with it. But I didn't volunteer any more information about my power. That was my business, not his. Especially when I still wasn't sure whether or not I could trust him. Kincaid might have saved my life, but he had his own reasons for doing so - like me killing Salina for him.

"Then what?"

He shrugged. "I saw you there under all that elemental Ice, and I saw you blasting it again and again with your magic, trying to break free. I thought you were going to make it on your own. You got one hand loose and up into the air, but then it just sort of flopped there on top of the Ice. So I fished you out, dragged you up the bank, and did CPR."

I looked at his shoulders and at the muscles in his arms. "Guess that extra strength you have came in handy."

He shrugged. "You were right before. I don't know who or what my parents were. Maybe dwarves, maybe giants, maybe one of each. But I'm strong, and I use it to my advantage."

"Thank you," I said. "You saved my life."

He shifted in his chair, seeming uncomfortable with my thanks. "Just returning the favor you did me a few nights ago."

"I guess that makes us even then."

He didn't say anything, but for the first time, a hint of a real smile softened his face.

Below us, the voices kept arguing.

I jerked my head at the bedroom door. "What's all that about?"

Kincaid sighed. "Just Owen being Owen."

"Is he still defending Salina?"

"No. He's finally seen her for what she really is. But he doesn't want to cut off her head, mount it on a pike, and dance around with it like your pal Finn does."

I grinned. "Well, Finn can be just as violent as me. Sometimes even more so."

As if to prove my point, downstairs, Finn let loose with a very long, very imaginative string of words describing exactly what he thought should be done to Salina.

"You know, I'm actually starting to like him," Kincaid said. "He certainly has the right idea as far as Salina's concerned."

"Well, that will certainly warm the cold cockles of Finn's heart," I said, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. "Now, come on. Let's go before it escalates into fisticuffs."

I got up, and immediately had to lean against the nightstand for support. Despite the fact that Jo-Jo had healed me, I still felt weak and light-headed. I knew it was because I'd been so close to dying. Hell, maybe I'd even been dead for a minute or two there before Kincaid had revived me. Either way, it would take some time for my mind to figure out that I was still in one piece and not drowning one slow, agonizing breath at a time in that creek.

I managed to walk down the stairs without Kincaid's help. He seemed amused by my attempts to keep my legs under me, but he didn't make any move to help me either. I didn't want him to. The time for being weak was past.

I reached the salon that took up the back of Jo-Jo's house, and my eyes swept over the familiar furnishings. Cherry-red salon chairs. Stacks of magazines everywhere. Combs, scissors, curlers, and dozens of other beauty tools on the counters. Bottles of pink nail polish and matching lipsticks cluttered together. It was all as familiar to me as my own face, and I drank in the scene, grateful I'd survived another battle I shouldn't have.

Then I focused on the two men in the middle of the room. Finn and Owen stood toe-to-toe, their eyes bright, their bodies tense, and their faces flushed with anger, while Eva, Cooper, and Bria sat in the chairs behind them. The men's shouts had woken Rosco, Jo-Jo's tubby basset hound, who eyed them with lazy disinterest from his wicker basket in the corner.