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Chapter Thirty
"Broken wrist, cracked ribs, and more cuts and bruises than I can count. " Jo-Jo ticked off my many injuries one by one.
I shrugged. "It was a slow night. "
I lay in one of the cherry red chairs at Jo-Jo Deveraux's beauty salon. After hiking back down the mountain, I'd driven myself over to the dwarf's house so she could heal me up once more. Sophia had already positioned herself above me. The Goth dwarf had her hands clamped on my arms, ready to hold me down so Jo-Jo could pour her healing Air elemental magic into my battered body.
In the next chair over, the already healed Finn murmured a quiet good-bye and snapped his cell phone shut.
"That was Xavier, checking in," he said. "Roslyn's given her statement to the cops. She said exactly what you told her too, Gin. She told the police that Elliot Slater kidnapped her from Northern Aggression and took her up to his mansion because of what she said about him on the riverboat. That he beat her before leaving her tied to the bed. They also found the clothes and mementoes of his other victims in that closet you rifled through, the other women that he raped and murdered. "
I nodded. That was the cover story we'd gone with, a way for Roslyn to be the victim that she really was in all this, instead of a twisted scapegoat to cover up Slater's many crimes.
Finn drew in a breath. "Roslyn told them the rest of it too. That she heard lots of noise, lots of screaming, and then several gunshots. That a masked figure, a woman, came into the bedroom where she was at and untied her. That the woman told Roslyn that she was the Spider and to tell everyone in Ashland what she had done to Slater and his men. Then the woman vanished into the night. Roslyn passed out, and the next thing she knew, the cops were everywhere. "
Finn stared at me, his eyes bright and green in his ruddy face. "It's already all over the news. They've dubbed you a vigilante, some sort of modern day Robin Hood. Except, of course, you kill people instead of just stealing from them. "
I nodded again. That's exactly what I'd wanted to happen. To set myself up as a larger-than-life legend, to distract people from the fact that I was just as human and mortal as the rest of them. People looking for legends tended to ignore the mundane, like someone who owned a barbecue joint and took classes at the local community college.
"I'm proud of you, Gin," Jo-Jo said in a soft voice.
"Proud," Sophia echoed in her raspy voice.
"Why?" I replied. "For setting myself up as a target for Mab Monroe? According to Finn, she's already got her people trying to figure out who I am and what I really want from her. She thinks I'm working for someone who's trying to muscle in on her territory. One of her many enemies. "
Jo-Jo shook her head. "No. For saving Roslyn Phillips, for putting the blame on yourself instead of on her. "
I shrugged. "It was my fault Elliot Slater fixated on her in the first place. I owe her more than I can ever repay for that alone. Besides, there was just no other way to work it out. Otherwise, Mab would have come after Roslyn, even though she knew that the giant was stalking the vampire. "
"Still," Jo-Jo said. "It's something that Fletcher Lane would have done. I'm sure wherever he is, he's looking down and smiling at you, Gin. "
I thought of the old man, of the file of information that he'd left me on my murdered family, about the fact that he'd gotten Bria to come back to Ashland to look for me. Jo-Jo was right. I felt like I was following in Fletcher's footsteps in a weird sort of way. The old man had done pro bono jobs for folks. Now I was doing one for the whole city of Ashland.
"You know what?" I replied. "I think you're right. "
I dropped my head back down against the headrest. "Now, use your mojo to get me up and around again. I need to go see a man about some swords. "
Jo-Jo smiled. "With pleasure, darling. With pleasure. "
I knocked on Owen Grayson's front door just as the sun rose over the eastern mountains. I'd just let go of the hammer knocker and stepped back when he threw open the door and stuck his head outside. Owen wore a baby blue shirt that made his eyes seem more blue than violet in the gray dawn. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd spent the night in them.
Owen's eyes widened at the sight of me, and his violet gaze took in my disheveled appearance, bloody clothes, and the two swords that I held out in front of me. After Jo-Jo healed me, I could have gone home, changed, and showered. Probably should have.
But the blood was part of me, part of who I was and what I did. If things were going to work between Owen and me, he had to realize what being with me really meant-and he had to accept me for who and what I was. Donovan Caine hadn't been able to do that. Now I was going to see if Owen Grayson ever could.
"Hi there," I said in a low voice.
"Hi yourself," Owen replied. He looked at my bloody clothes once more before his eyes lifted to my face. "Long night?"
I shrugged. "You could say that. I wanted to come by and apologize. I think I might have scared Eva a little last night when I came over. But there was an emergency, and I didn't have time to explain things to her. I also brought your swords back. "
I held out the weapons to him. They were just as bloody as my clothes. So I stood there, and I waited. Because now it was Owen's turn to make a decision.
He stared at me again, taking in my bloody black clothes before he slowly reached forward and took the swords out of my hand. Owen looked at first one weapon, then the other. Dried blood gleamed like dull red ink on both of the blades, making it ever so obvious what I'd done with them during the long night. That I'd used them to cut and hurt and wound and kill. It was one thing to make weapons. Quite another to see their brutal application in the harsh light of a new day.
For a moment I thought that Owen would turn around, go inside, and shut and lock the door on me. That's what Donovan Caine had done, only he'd been the one to leave instead of me. But to my surprise, Owen nodded his head, then looked up and gave me a small smile.
"Come on," he said in a low voice. "Let's get you cleaned up. "
