"About nothing being able to penetrate my Stone magic. Alexis James's Air power did."
The dwarf shrugged. "You said yourself your concentration broke. Next time, you'll know what to expect. Besides, you're still young, Gin. You're just now fully coming into your power."
"But Alexis was stronger than I was," I protested. "Her magic was stronger. I felt it.
You saw what she did to me with it."
Jo-Jo gave me a sly look. "If she was so strong, how come she's rotting out in the quarry and you're sitting here in my chair?"
I didn't have an answer to that.
The dwarf chuckled. "Pure strength is one thing, darling, whether it's magical or natural. It'll only get you so far. But how you use what you've been given-that's what really matters. When you figure that out, ain't nobody going to be able to touch you. Not even me or Mab Monroe."
Jo-Jo threw her paper towel away and started puttering around the salon. While she worked, I just sat there in the chair pondering her words-and the cold fear they raised in me.
The Alexis James story played out for the next week. To say it was a circus would have been to underestimate the rabid appetite of the Ashland media. Story after story flooded the airwaves and newspapers about James and the trail of bodies in her wake.
Donovan Caine must have been a better liar than I'd given him credit for, because the detective placed the blame for everything on Alexis, and nobody seemed willing to contradict him.
Haley James might have, if she'd been able to. But her home burned to the ground with her in it the night after the incident at the rock quarry. Only the house's stone foundation survived the blaze, along with a few of Haley's teeth. Everything else was totally obliterated by the heat. The fire was ruled an accident, and the coroner said Haley probably died from smoke inhalation, since he didn't actually have her body to autopsy. But I had no doubt Mab Monroe had paid Haley a visit for hiding Alexis's activities from her. So the very thing Haley had feared came true after all. Irony.
What a bitch.
Finn made his own discreet inquiries into the matter, reaching out to his various contacts. He wanted to know if Haley had spilled her guts to Mab, if she'd said anything to the Fire elemental about Fletcher, Finn, or me. About what we did or what the James sisters had hired us to do. But evidently, Haley had never gotten the chance. Rumor had it that Mab had been so enraged at Haley's part in the embezzlement scheme that the Fire elemental had fried her on the spot. No questions asked. And with Alexis and the rest of her men dead, there was no one else to tell the tale. Which meant that Finn and I were safe from anyone else nosing around or blowing our cover to Mab.
A week after the incident at the rock quarry, we buried Fletcher in Blue Ridge Cemetery. Me, Finn, Jo-Jo, Sophia, the waitstaff and cooks from the Pork Pit, some of Fletcher's buddies, who were as gnarled and old and grumpy as he'd been. Roslyn Phillips also showed up for the service, although the vampire stood off to one side by herself.
It was another gorgeous fall day. Cerulean blue sky, bright sun, clouds that were smoother than marshmallow creme. The cemetery stood on a plateau on top of one of the mountains that ringed Ashland and offered a spectacular view of the sprawling city and countryside below. The grass gleamed like gold underfoot, while the burnt sienna and scarlet leaves painted the landscape with even more color. The mountaintops around us were smoky blue smudges against the sky.
We ringed a plain wooden casket burnished to a high gloss. Fletcher hadn't wanted anything fancy, he hadn't been that kind of man, and Finn had respected his father's wishes. The preacher had just started the graveside service, and people were already weepy. Several of the waitstaff and cooks snuffled into tissues. The old men dabbed their eyes with white handkerchiefs. Finn did the same. Jo-Jo Deveraux bawled like a baby, unashamed of her many tears, even though they were ruining her makeup.
Sophia stood over her older sister, patting her back. The younger dwarf was dry-eyed, just like me. I'd cried my tears the night I'd found Fletcher's body. Now, I just felt ... empty. Hollow. Another piece of my heart was gone, and it was never coming back.
Just like all the other bits I'd lost over the years.
As the preacher spoke the traditional words of comfort, my mind drifted back to the day Fletcher had taken me in ...
My family had been gone nine weeks now. Maybe ten. Time had little meaning to me anymore. All that mattered was finding enough food for one more day and someplace that wasn't too cold to sleep at night. Something that was getting more difficult as winter approached. My favorite spot was next to this barbecue restaurant called the Pork Pit. A crack in the alley across from the back of the restaurant was just big enough for me to squeeze into. I liked the small, tight space and the muted contentment of the stones in the surrounding buildings. Both of them made me feel safe, even though I knew it was only an illusion.
Then there was the tall guy who ran the restaurant. Barbecue Man. That's what I called him. He knew I hung around out back, but he didn't yell or chase me away like the folks at the Italian and Chinese restaurants did. He even let me do odd jobs for him, like sweep out the stockroom. Last week I'd helped him defrost the freezers and clean these weird pink stains out of them.
He'd given me fifty bucks for a day's work. I'd used the money to buy a black fleece jacket, a turtleneck, and the thickest pair of gloves they had at the Goodwill store.
Barbecue Man was a lot nicer than the nuns over at the soup kitchen. They wanted to save your soul before they offered you so much as a glass of water. Hypocrites.
Barbecue Man had given me a hamburger a little over an hour ago for cleaning the gum off the tables in the front of the restaurant. I licked the last of the crumbs from my fingers, trying to make every single bite last. But Barbecue Man didn't skimp with the meat, and this was one night I wouldn't go hungry-one of a very few. The sandwich made me sleepy, and I curled into a tight ball and dozed off in my little crack, having survived another day on the streets of Ashland.
Sometime later, the stones woke me, their murmurs rising to a low, steady wail, thanks to the protection curls I'd set into the brick. My own sort of alarm, to keep me safe from the drugged-out bums, vampire prostitutes, and pimps. Something I'd seen one of the street elementals do, although she'd used fireballs to trigger her alarm instead of something else. Fire elementals had it so easy. They could use their magic to keep warm at night, and if somebody messed with them, they would get a face full of flames. Not for the first time, I wished I'd been born a Fire instead of a Stone.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, clutching the loose brick in my lap. I'd used my magic to pry it out of one of the alley walls a few days ago. A pitiful weapon, but it was better than nothing. It only took me a moment to find the source of the alarm. A man stood in the shadows to my left. I stilled, hoping he wouldn't see me. I was very good at staying still and quiet. Being invisible was a necessary skill I'd perfected these past few weeks.