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And then the kiss ended, and I was the Spider once more.
A valet came and took the car away. After we made note of where he put it, Owen and I strolled inside the country club arm in arm. Owen gave his engraved invitation to the tuxedo-clad vampire manning the interior door. The vamp waved us on, and we stepped into the main ballroom. We moved to one side of the open doors, getting our bearings and watching the ebb and flow of people.
Five massive, circular buildings comprised the Five Oaks Country Club, including the ballroom before us, which covered several thousand feet and towered four stories into the air. Multiple sets of stairs led to the upper levels, each of which featured a balcony that circled the entire ballroom. The walkways made it all the better for the rich snobs to look down on their peers. A glass dome arched high overhead, forming the ceiling. Through the glass, I could just make out the soft curve of the moon. The bright silver sliver peaked through the thin clouds that wisped across the sky like a child playing peek-a-boo. Now you see me, now you don't.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined the back wall of the ballroom, along with doors that led outside. In daylight hours, the sweeping view would show off the club's acorn-shaped swimming pools, several tennis courts, and, of course, the green carpet of the back nine. Tonight, though, only darkness and snow peeped through.
Normally, round tables covered with pale peach linens would have filled the ballroom, each one with the country club's rune-an acorn-stitched in gold thread in the center of the tablecloths and napkins. Since this was a masquerade ball, the decorations had been swapped out accordingly. Long, low settees done in red and black velvet ringed a black-and-white, checkerboard dance floor. Abstract elemental Ice sculptures squatted here and there throughout the ballroom, while more icicles dripped down the walls and clustered together in lieu of actual flowers. Black and crimson pillar candles thicker and taller than my arms burned in the middle of some of the icy arrangements, the flickering flames making the frosted shards glitter like diamonds.
I had to give Finn his props, because he'd been right about our costumes. Owen and I looked practically tame and toothless in our leather, compared to how much skin some of the trophy wives were showing. One woman walked by wearing nothing but a diamond choker and strategically placed bits of elemental Ice-shaped like sharp, curving thorns no less. Another vamp wore several long, fluttering layers of gauzy red silk, although the fabric was far too transparent for the woman to be the chaste angel that her ruby halo proclaimed her to be. I even saw one woman dressed completely in silver spandex. She was supposed to be a superhero, I think. Karma Girl or somebody like that.
We grabbed a couple of drinks at the bar and circulated through the room. To keep up appearances, Owen chatted with all the business types that he knew. I made the appropriate polite noises when called upon, but I scanned the crowd the entire time, looking for my prey for the evening-Mab Monroe.
She appeared about twenty minutes after we did, a little trilling trumpet of fanfare heralding her arrival. Conversation dulled to a low hush at the sound, and all eyes turned to the entrance. A moment later, Mab stepped inside, dressed just as Finn had said she would be.
Dressed as the Spider.
Crimson leather covered the Fire elemental from head to toe, every inch of it molded to her lush, curvy figure, making it seem as though she'd bathed in blood. Maybe she had, given all the other horrible things she'd done.
The leather made Mab's hair look even redder than it really was. Tonight the soft, curling waves reminded me of ribbons of fire swirling around her head. As always, Mab wore her trademark necklace-a large, circular ruby surrounded by several dozen flat, gold, wavy rays. A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab's rune.
The Fire elemental turned her head to speak to someone just inside the door. The candlelight glinted off the diamond cutting on the gold, making the rays spark and flash, while the ruby glowed with its own inner fire. But the sunburst wasn't the only symbol that Mab was wearing tonight.
The bitch also had on a spider rune-my rune.
A small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. The symbol was stitched in glossy black thread on the left side of Mab's crimson catsuit-right where her heart would be, if she even had one and not just a gaping maw in her chest.
Mab had taken the costume one step further. A pair of knives glinted in the black leather belt that circled her waist. Truth be told, they were fairly accurate versions of my own weapons-the ones that I wanted to reach for right now.
Anger burned in my heart at her blatant mockery of me, and my vision went red with rage. Once again, just for a second, I let myself feel the emotion, let the anger pump through my veins, let the thumping roar of it drown out everything else.
And then I put it aside-pushed it down into the pit of my stomach where it would continue to smolder but not consume me. This was a trap, after all, and the costume was just another piece of it, something else to lure me in, to make me lose control. To make me careless, something that I would not allow to happen. Not tonight.
So I stared at my enemy again, this time with narrowed eyes and a cold, calm heart.
"Are those real silverstone knives she's wearing?" I murmured to Owen.
He cocked his head to one side, and his violet eyes began to glow ever so slightly. Owen was using his magic, reaching out with his elemental talent for metal.
"They are," he murmured back. "High-end ones too. Made of almost pure silverstone. "
We watched as Mab shook hands with a dwarf dressed like a miniature version of Jack Frost.
"What do you want to do, Gin?" Owen asked.
"Nothing," I said. "She's got too many people around her right now, and she's probably expecting me to strike immediately. Let's give her a chance to settle in and get good and bored waiting for me to make my move. "
Owen nodded, and we moved off into the crowd.
But Mab wasn't the only enemy that I had here tonight, because she'd brought someone with her-Jonah McAllister.
McAllister was Mab's lawyer, the number-two man in her organization who was responsible for burying the Fire elemental's foes in so much legal red tape that they choked on it. Usually, McAllister wore a suit that was as slick and sharp as he was, but tonight the lawyer had forgone the ball's Fire and Ice theme in favor of dressing up like a pirate. Yargh.
A black patch covered one of his cold brown eyes, although he hadn't bothered putting a bandana over his styled coif of thick silver hair. A loose white shirt stretched across his chest, topped off by a red sash that was patterned with Mab's sunburst rune. The shirt and sash tucked into a pair of black breeches, which themselves tucked into a pair of matching boots. McAllister also had a curved scimitar strapped to his waist, made out of the same kind of silverstone as Mab's faux Spider knives, from the looks of it.
Despite his sixty-something years, McAllister's face was as smooth as glass underneath his eye patch. The lawyer was one of those who used Air elemental facials to fight the ravages of time. In fact, he was more vain about keeping his face wrinkle-free than most women.
Jonah McAllister had an active desire to see me dead, ever since I'd killed his son, Jake, a few months ago. Jake had come into the Pork Pit one night and tried to rob my gin joint. When I'd put Jake in his place, he and his father had gotten a little upset about it, threatening to run me out of business, among other, more unpleasant things.
