I smiled at her interesting imagery.
“But you had silverstone melted into your hands. So, in a sense, the metal choked your Ice magic every time you tried to release it through your hands. Like a bottleneck. Make sense?”
I thought about all those times I’d formed a cube or a pair of Ice picks. Jo-Jo was right. I almost always used my hands to do those things, but most of the time when I drew on my Stone magic to harden my skin, the power almost always came from within. “I think I get it now. But how was I able to draw on so much Ice magic in the cavern if the silverstone was blocking it?”
Jo-Jo stared at me. “Because you finally brought enough of your Ice magic to bear to overpower the silverstone. You blasted right through that metal, broke down that barrier. Your Ice magic’s always been as strong as your Stone magic, Gin. Now, it’s finally risen to the surface where you can use it. That’s why your spider rune scars look brighter, more of a silver color now. Because your Ice magic is right there waiting for you to tap into it. Because your power is in the silverstone now, instead of being blocked by it.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked. “You knew the whole time why my Ice magic was weaker. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you had to break through the silverstone by yourself,” Jo-Jo said. “I couldn’t do it for you.”
I sat there and stared at the matching scars that decorated my palms. A small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. One on either hand. A spider rune. The symbol for patience.
“You’re only going to get stronger now, Gin,” Jo-Jo said in a quiet tone. “One day soon, you’ll be the strongest elemental in Ashland. Even stronger than Mab Monroe herself.”
Stronger than Mab? I didn’t know if that was a good thing, seeing as how the Fire elemental only used her power for destruction. All Mab used her magic for was to kill, hurt, and burn everyone who stood in her way. I might have been an assassin, but I didn’t want to be like her. Not now, not ever.
I curled my hands into fists, hiding the scars from sight, and tried to ignore the shiver that shook my body.
——
I spent the rest of the night at the Foxes’, resting up, and Finn came to get me the next day just before the crack of noon, as was his style. I was sitting on the front porch of Country Daze in some of Violet Fox’s borrowed clothes when he pulled up in his Cadillac Escalade. I’d already said my good-byes to Warren T. Fox, who was still inside with Jo-Jo Deveraux. Sophia was coming up later to pick up her older sister, who wanted to spend a few more hours gossiping with Warren.
Finn got out of the car and walked over to me. He slid his designer sunglasses down so he could peer over the top of the lenses. “Nice clothes.”
“Lovely to see you too, Finn,” I replied in a wry tone.
But I got up and hugged my foster brother anyway. He hugged me back as tight as he could.
“You ready to leave?” Finn asked.
I looked up at the tin sign mounted over the front door. Country Daze. Yeah, dazed was one way of putting everything I’d gone through the last few days. I stared at the gleaming sign a moment longer, then turned and smiled at Finn. “Let’s blow this gin joint. Take me home. Take me to the Pork Pit.”
34
The incident at the coal mine played out for the next week. Folks worked around the clock for days, digging, moving, and hauling earth and stone out of the way before they finally recovered Tobias Dawson’s body, along with those of his two giant workers. The coroner said both the giants and Dawson died of blunt force trauma.
Yeah, the cave-in had taken out the giants, but Dawson had died from those Ice daggers I’d launched into his torso. Too bad the evidence had melted away — just like always. Something I was grateful for.
After the rescue workers recovered the bodies, there wasn’t much else to do. So they closed down the mine and went home. A couple of days later, Finn showed me a business article in the Ashland Trumpet that said Owen Grayson had bought Tobias Dawson’s company for a song — lock, stock, and barrel. No plans had been announced about what would happen to the collapsed mine, and Grayson was quoted as saying he wasn’t in a rush to make a decision. Either way, I’d destroyed the diamonds in the cavern, so no one would be sniffing around there anytime soon. Which meant Warren T. Fox, his granddaughter, Violet, and their store, land, and house were safe for now and the foreseeable future.
I was glad I’d been able to help the Foxes, glad I’d been able to do something for someone who had once meant so much to Fletcher Lane. I thought the old man would have approved of me helping Warren, even if the two of them had parted on bad terms all those years ago.
As for me, I lapsed gracefully back into retirement. Auditing classes at Ashland Community College. Reading.
Cooking. Running the Pork Pit.
That last one was easier now, since Jake McAllister was out of the picture. The incident at the mine shaft had dominated the news, of course, but there was a small mention about Jake and the fact he’d been found dead at his father’s home. The coroner blamed it on natural causes caused by an undetected heart defect — or some such nonsense. There was no mention of Jake being at the party at Mab Monroe’s house, and no mention of him being found stabbed to death in one of the bathrooms.
But with Jake dead, his father, Jonah McAllister, had no real reason to squeeze me anymore. At least, not about the robbery and pressing charges again his son. Oh, I imagined Jonah was still angry at me over what had happened the day he had come to the restaurant and that he’d get back around to harassing me sooner or later, if only because he enjoyed that sort of thing. But for now, the Pork Pit was back up to its regular flow of customers. Still, I kept an eye out for trouble. If Jonah McAllister ever connected me with the blond hooker who’d been at Mab’s party, he’d get his giants, come to the Pork Pit, and raze the restaurant to the ground — with me inside it.
Which is why I had Finn make some discreet inquiries into the matter. Jonah McAllister was said to be seething with rage over the murder of his son — and the fact the incident had taken place at Mab Monroe’s mansion. McAllister had vowed to find his son’s killer and take care of her himself — with his bare hands. Mab Monroe was also said to be livid at the fact someone had dared to murder her lawyer’s son in her own home.
Mab was also said to be quietly searching for a blond hooker who’d attended her party and had been seen leaving with Tobias Dawson. According to Finn, the Fire elemental had sent Elliot Slater and a couple of his giant goons to question Roslyn Phillips about the mysterious hooker. But Slater had eventually been satisfied that the invitation and rune necklace had been stolen from Northern Aggression without Roslyn’s knowledge. Still, I had Finn wire Roslyn a significant amount of money to help make up for what I was sure had been a forceful interview.
And I still wondered about that night at the party and why Mab hadn’t just killed me herself when I’d been knocked out cold on the ground in front of her. It would have been easy enough for her to do. Why make Dawson do it? Why make him take me somewhere else? Had Mab known he would take me to the mine? Maybe she’d thought I’d kill Dawson for her, and she could step in and have all the diamonds for herself. It wouldn’t have been a bad plan, if I hadn’t collapsed the whole mountain in the process.
I didn’t know the Fire elemental’s reasoning, and I’d never believed much in luck. But I knew that I’d dodged my own death that night. But now she was actively searching for me, and I had no illusions about what would happen if she ever discovered my real identity.