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Finn had mentioned there was a rumor that the contents of Mab's will were going to be revealed at the gala tonight. Now that I'd read the document myself, I could easily imagine Mab arranging for things to go down like that. Like Finn had said, it would have been one last hurrah for her - an opportunity to remind everyone how powerful she had been, and a chance to announce her successor in the most dramatic way possible.
Because Mab hadn't left anything to Jonah McAllister, her other business associates, or even charity. No, she'd given everything to this M. M. Monroe.
I wondered if this mysterious relative had the same devastating Fire magic Mab had wielded.
I wondered if this person knew about the massive fortune he or she had inherited.
I wondered if this Monroe would decide to come to Ashland to oversee Mab's empire in person - and how much trouble he or she might cause for me if so.
My mother and Mab had been enemies for years before Mab had murdered her and my older sister. Their parents had been enemies before them, and their parents before them. At least, that's how it had been according to Mab. So it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that the family feud would continue on into another generation, if that's what this was. It already had with me and Mab, really.
Once again, I'd thought that I'd taken care of everything when I'd killed the Fire elemental, that I'd finally set myself free from her, but she just kept screwing with me, even from six feet under.
"It doesn't really matter who Mab left her fortune to," I finally said, rolling up the paper and sliding it back into the tube. "Just that we have the will and Clementine wants it. We can use it for leverage. "
Owen shook his head. "She's not going to let the hostages go, if that's what you're thinking. You know that as well as I do. Not now, when everyone's seen her face and knows exactly who she is. She can't afford to let any of them live. "
"That's what I thought at first too. But I think good ole Clem has a slightly different plan in mind. "
I told Owen about the bombs I'd found on the bridge and under the bumper of the moving truck.
He frowned. "Okay, I understand about the destroying the bridge to help with their escape, but why would Clementine want to blow up the moving trucks?"
I shrugged. "I haven't quite figured that out yet. But it doesn't really matter, because the only way she's leaving this island is in a body bag. "
Owen studied me in the moonlight. "Because of what she and Dixon did to Jillian?"
I didn't say anything, but he could see the answer in my cold, angry eyes - along with the guilt.
"That wasn't your fault, Gin," he said. "It was a mistake, her having on the same dress as you. Just a stupid, simple, cruel twist of fate. " He hesitated. "She was a friend, but you don't have to avenge her for me, if that's what you're thinking. I wouldn't ask you to do that. "
No, he wouldn't. Owen preferred to handle such things himself, just like I did. It was one of the many things I admired about him.
"I know you wouldn't ask me that," I said. "But I need to avenge Jillian for me. Because it should have been my face that got blown off, not hers. "
"I'm not blaming you for Jillian's death, if that's what you're thinking. "
"No," I replied, weariness creeping into my voice. "You just blame me for Salina. "
His ex-fiancee's name hung in the air between us, writhing around and around like a poisonous snake. But I'd said the words, and there was no taking them back. Despite the danger we were in, the danger we were all in, Eva, Phillip, and the others were right: Owen and I needed to start talking, to start figuring out where we stood and what kind of future we might have together. If I was going to die tonight, if we both might die tonight, well, I wanted to clear the air between us - about this, anyway.
Owen grimaced. He reached out and touched one of the brown briars wrapped around the weeping willow, sliding his thumb over one of the thorns. It was several seconds before he finally spoke.
"I don't blame you for Salina's death. You did what you thought needed to be done. "
"But you didn't agree with it then," I said. "And you still don't now. "
He sighed, looking as sad and tired as I felt. "Like I told you before, everything's all mixed-up inside me right now. You, Salina, how I feel about her death and your part in it. I keep going over it again and again in my head, wondering if I could have done something different, if I could have changed things. But I can't see how I cou
ld have, other than waking up and realizing what Salina was really like when we were young. But I didn't see the real her, and now she's dead. I can't change any of that, and I haven't sorted any of it out. Not really. "
It was a shortened version of the same speech Owen had given me at the Pork Pit a few weeks ago, when he'd told me that he needed some time to himself. I'd hoped that tonight's events, that the danger and emotions we'd shared, had meant that he'd come to terms with at least some of his issues. But he hadn't, and I didn't know if he ever would.
"Jillian was a friend," he continued. "But I wasn't one to her. Not really. Because I didn't even realize that she wasn't in the rotunda with the rest of us. When Clementine threw that body down, and I thought it was you . . . I couldn't think about anything else but you being dead. I always seem to let down the people I care about. Eva, Phillip, Cooper, you. I let you all down because of Salina. And tonight, I didn't even notice that Jillian was missing. Some friend that makes me, huh?"
Owen barked out a harsh laugh, his face twisting with guilt and misery.
"And that kiss you laid on me in the vault?" I asked.
