AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Clementine? That wasn't a very common name, and it rang a bell in the back of my mind. I studied the giant, but once again, I couldn't quite place who she was or where I might have seen her before tonight. I was going to find out, though - real soon.
"We're the ones taking all the risks," Dixon said, his voice taking on a pleading, petulant note. "I say we do whatever we want, as long as we get the job done in the end. This is the score of a lifetime. I don't want anything to screw it up. Do you? So three in the head, and the Spider's dead. "
The Spider. That sick, sick feeling ballooned up in my stomach, choking me from the inside out, burning as cruelly as the hottest elemental Fire. They thought that they'd killed the Spider; they thought that they'd murdered me. But it was Jillian lying there on the cold marble - or what was left of her.
Finn had been so upset when he'd realized that Jillian had on the same dress as I did. He'd never dreamed it would get her killed, and neither had I. Scarlet dress, dark brown hair, strong, slender build. Owen had mistaken me for Jillian earlier, and Dixon had made the same error in reverse.
The cold, cruel irony twisted into my gut, adding to my agonizing guilt, and my own scarlet gown seemed to cinch tightly around my waist, like a corset compressing my lungs and slowly suffocating me. I could feel each and every one of the delicate crystals around the waist digging into my stomach like tiny daggers. For a moment, I was seized by the unbearable urge to tear off the gown and rip it to shreds with my knife. I wanted to scream and shout and beat my fists against the marble walls about how fucking unfair it was that an innocent woman had died because of me.
But that wouldn't calm my raging emotions.
Nothing would - except killing the giants.
Clementine studied Jillian's body. After a moment, she nodded. "You're right. Dead is dead, and dead is good in her case. Besides, it's not like you can put her face back where it used to be. "
Dixon let out the breath he'd been holding. He smiled at the other giant, but it was a nervous expression, punctuated by a faint twitching of his left eye, and it took him a moment to relax the tight, white-knuckled grip he'd had on his gun. He'd known that Clementine wouldn't be happy with what he'd done, and he'd been afraid of what she might do to him.
Whoever Clementine was, she was definitely in charge, and Dixon was scared of her. He had shot an unarmed woman in the face, but he was still taking pains to tiptoe around the other giant. That told me a few things about Clementine, namely that she was even more dangerous and ruthless than Dixon was.
Clementine got to her feet and glanced at her watch. I didn't get a good look at it, but I could still see the flash of diamonds and the gleam of silverstone around her wrist. An expensive piece, one far too pricey for a simple waiter. Then again, Clementine wasn't what she seemed to be, any more than I was.
Didn't much matter. She was getting dead in another minute, two tops.
I'd wait until they left Jillian's body behind, creep through the shadows after them, then ram my knife into Clementine's back. Once she was dead, I'd find a quiet, secluded corner in the museum where I could question Dixon - a place where no one would hear him scream out the answers. Depending on what he told me, I'd either wipe his blood off my knives and go back to the exhibit, or I'd find Finn and tell him that we had a situation to deal with -
"Is everyone else in position?" Clementine asked.
Dixon reached down and grabbed a walkie-talkie that was clipped to the black leather belt around his waist. "Team one?"
A staticky crackle sounded, along with a male voice. "In position. "
"Team two?" he asked.
Another crackle, another voice, this one female. "In position. "
He repeated the procedure, checking in with three other teams. I didn't know how many folks were on each team, but I was willing to bet that it was several. This was what the stones had been murmuring about all evening. Whatever was happening, I was going to stop it - and the giants.
Clementine nodded, satisfied. "All right. Grab her, and let's get out of here. "
"Aw, do I have to?" Dixon whined again. "Why don't you do it?"
"Because you're the idiot who shot her in the face. You made the mess, so you can carry her. Do you have a problem with that?" Her voice was calm, polite even, but her hazel eyes were cold, flat, and empty.
"No, no, no, that's okay," Dixon said. "I can get her. No problem, boss. "
This time, Clementine smiled. The expression reminded me of a fox baring its teeth at a fat hen. "Good. Then let's get the show started. We wouldn't want to keep our guests waiting. "
Turning her back on her underling, Clementine set off down the hallway.
* * *
Dixon stared at Jillian's body for a moment, his lips curled with disgust. Finally, sighing, he holstered his gun and attached the walkie-talkie to his belt again. He reached down, grabbed Jillian's leg, and hurried after his boss. His inherent giant strength and the smooth marble floor made it easy for him to drag the body, like a kid pulling a wagon behind him. In seconds, the two of them had rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
I got out of the chair, went back into the bathroom, and grabbed my shoes. Then, knife still in my hand, I opened the exterior door and eased out into the hallway, looking left and right. Not seeing anyone else or hearing any footsteps clattering in my direction, I hurried down the hallway after them, my shoes clutched in one hand and my knife in the other. The marble floor felt as cold and slick as an ice rink against my bare feet, but I didn't dare take the time to stop and put my heels back on. They'd make too much noise cracking against the floor, anyway.
Guilt surged through me once more. I should have realized something was wrong the second Clementine had sidled up to me in the rotunda, and especially when she'd done the same thing again in the bathroom. Clementine had been making sure I was inside so Dixon could shoot me. But somehow, while they'd been off plotting my demise, the two of them had missed Jillian entering the bathroom. And since he'd shot Jillian so many times in the face, destroying her features, they both assumed he'd killed the right woman in the red dress.
I didn't know anything about Jillian Delancey. Didn't know if she was good or bad, kind or indifferent, sweet or cynical. If she had a family, if she was a loner, if she had a couple of cats at home. If she gave money to charity, if she saved every penny, if she was a ruthless businesswoman who crushed everyone who stood in her way. All I did know was that Jillian had been in the wrong place at the wrong time - and wearing the wrong damn dress.
