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The gown was beautiful - certainly more beautiful than I was - but I couldn't help but feel exposed it in. The top left my arms bare, which meant that I couldn't carry knives up my sleeves like I usually did. Still, I hadn't come to the museum completely weaponless: two blades were strapped to my thighs underneath the long skirt, just in case. I would have preferred to be carrying my full five-point arsenal, so to speak, but two knives were usually enough to get the job done, especially when I was the one wielding them.
Still, I couldn't help but listen to the tense, worried mutters of the stone around me - mutters that had only gotten louder and sharper since we'd entered the rotunda.
And it wasn't just the stone's whispers that made me wary. There were increasingly more giants inside the museum than there had been outside, until it seemed like they were everywhere I turned in the rotunda. Most of the giants were dressed as waiters, but really, they were just glorified guards in black bow ties. They'd be ready to deal quickly, brutally, and efficiently with any problems that might arise. In fact, there were more giant waiters in the room than there were personal bodyguards. I supposed that some of the movers and shakers thought they'd be safe enough at such a public event and had left their muscle at home for the night.
Even so, the giants didn't bother me as much as the stares, snubs, and whispers. Opal wasn't the only person who recognized me, and more than one person turned in my direction to gawk. Apparently, an assassin attending such a high-society event was something of a shock. Please. I'd snuck into my share of their fancy parties over the years to get close to a target - and more than one person had died before the last bit of bubbly was drunk. Or perhaps they thought it was gauche of me to show my face at an event commemorating the woman I'd killed. As if they all hadn't wanted Mab dead for years.
Most folks limited themselves to whispering about me or turning their backs to me, but a few of the underworld figures had more interesting reactions. Ron Donaldson openly pouted at the fact that I was still breathing. I'd killed three of his men last month when they'd ambushed me outside the Pork Pit. Lorelei Parker was another petulant pouter. She'd sent two of her men after me just last week, and I had Sophia send them back to her in pieces.
Oh, yes. Tension rippled through the crowd with every move I made. But even beyond that, a nervous edge crackled in the air. I couldn't quite put my finger on the source of it, but I felt it all the same, buzzing around like lightning getting ready to streak down from the sky and fry someone to a crisp - me, most likely.
"Well, I think you look fabulous," Finn repeated. "Now, what do you say we get some champagne and have a look at Mab's loot?"
I snorted. "You're just trying to butter me up so you can get your way. "
"Is it working?"
I sighed. "Doesn't it always?"
Finn grinned at me.
So I shut the stones' murmurs out of my mind and ignored the folks whispering about me, determined at least to try to have a good time.
We grabbed some champagne and spent the next few minutes wandering around the rotunda. Actually, Finn dragged me from one group of people to the next, cozying up to all of his clients, saying hello to everyone he knew, and introducing himself to the few folks who hadn't yet had the supreme pleasure of his acquaintance.
Finnegan Lane was one of the best investment bankers in Ashland, and he'd made a lot of people in this room a lot of money. We wouldn't take more than three steps before Finn would wave at someone he knew or a woman would sidle up and plant a coy, perfumed kiss on his cheek. Finally, after the fifth time that happened, I motioned at Finn that I was going on without him. He absently waved his hand at me and turned back to his apparently riveting conversation about tax shelters with a wizened dwarf wearing a dozen ropes of black pearls.
While Finn held court, I moved off into the crowd. I wandered from one display to the next, ignoring the awed whispers about my being the Spider and disappointed mutters about why I wasn't dead yet. Instead, I concentrated on all of the things Mab had collected over the years. Most of the items were exactly what I'd expected: pricey paintings, large sculptures, small, detailed carvings, even a few silk wall tapestries. Nothing too exciting or interesting. In fact, I was rather disappointed by the whole thing. Given how cruel and vicious Mab had been, I'd expected there to be something noteworthy on display, maybe a gun she'd used to kneecap someone, a knife she'd chopped off an enemy's fingers with, a bit of rope she'd wrapped around someone's throat and choked them into compliance with.
But I should have known that Mab wouldn't have had anything like that. She'd preferred using her Fire magic to hurt, torture, burn, and kill people. She hadn't needed anything else. No props, no weapons, no help from her giant guards. Just the mention of her name had been enough to inspire abject terror - and rightly so.
"What, exactly, are you doing here?" a low voice snapped.
I turned to find Jonah McAllister standing behind me, his fingers clenched around a champagne glass and his mouth pinched down with as much surprise and displeasure as his tight features would allow him to show.
"Why, hello, Jonah," I drawled. "Lovely to see you again too. "
His cold brown eyes flicked up and down my body, carefully studying my gown as if he expected to find bloodstains on the expensive fabric. Maybe later. Like Finn had said, the night was still young.
"I told the guards to keep the riffraff out, but apparently, they didn't understand the meaning of the word," he said in a haughty, condescending tone.
I laughed in his face. McAllister had called me trash - and worse - on more than one occasion, but his insults didn't bother me in the slightest. In fact, I idly considered reaching out, grabbing the lawyer's lapels, and dragging him back into a dark corner so I could stab him to death with one of my knives. But alas, there were too many people, too many cameras, and too many giant guards posing as waiters in here for me to get away with murdering McAllister.
Still, the lawyer's days were numbered. I'd make sure of that.
An angry, mottled flush stained McAllister's cheeks at my light, happy, mocking laughter, and I could almost see the wheels furiously spinning in his mind as he thought about how he could get the better of me. He took another long, careful look at me, intently eyeing me from head to toe, then pivoted on his heel and strode away. I watched him for a few moments, but instead of going over to a couple of the giants and demanding that they escort me out, he pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and started texting on it. Maybe he was sending his demands to someone higher up the museum food chain than the guards.
Strange, even for McAllister. Usually, he had some sort of devious plan in mind when it came to me, one that involved my untimely demise. It wasn't like him just to walk away after merely one insult. I'd have to keep an eye on him -
"A fresh glass of champagne, ma'am?"
A silver tray appeared at my elbow, and I stared up at the person holding it, a giant about seven and a half feet tall. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, judging from the wrinkles fanning out from the corners of her eyes, the deep laugh lines grooving in and around her mouth, and the long crease slashing across her forehead.
She wore the same starched white shirt and matching black tuxedo vest, bow tie, and pants that all of the other waiters did, but her features were quite striking. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was a mass of tight, wild curls, while her hazel eyes were just a shade darker than her tan skin. Her understated makeup highlighted her full mouth, sharp nose, and high cheekbones, and even the waiter uniform couldn't disguise her generous breasts or how long her legs were. Put a gown on her, and she'd turn her fair share of heads in the room.
She also seemed vaguely familiar to me, like I'd seen her before, although I couldn't quite place when or where. I'd probably noticed her at some other event, serving as a waiter or maybe even as a bodyguard to one of the underworld bosses. As the Spider, I'd met a lot of giants in my time. Well, killed was more like it.
"Ma'am?" she repeated, moving the tray closer to my elbow. "More champagne?"
