"No," she said in a thoughtful tone. "I wouldn't want to know. Not really."
We didn't speak for several moments.
"So what now?" I asked. "We've both been searching for each other for weeks, and we both want Mab to pay for what she did to our family. So where does that leave us?"
Bria hesitated. "You have to understand that I've spent my whole adult life being a cop, Gin. That I was raised by a cop, a good one. Rules, procedure, the law, all of those things mean something to me. I don't think that they do to you."
I shrugged again. No, they didn't, because I had my own rules, my own procedure, my own law. But I didn't think that Bria wanted to hear about the Spider's cynical, bloody, violent worldview right now.
"I should be turning you in for everything you've done, including killing Elektra LaFleur and Mab Monroe's men, even if they deserved it," Bria said. "But I just can't seem to bring myself to do it. I don't know why."
Her reluctance to rat me out wasn't much, but it was a place to start.
"Well, I know what I want," I said. "You're my sister, Bria. I want what I've always wanted-a relationship with you. You back in my life in some way. I want to get to know you and see how much you're like the little girl I remember, the one I used to play all those games with, and have such fun with. Don't you want that too? After everything we've been through? After all these long years we've been apart?"
Bria let out a tense breath. "I thought I did before I found out that you were the Spider. Now, I just don't know."
Her words didn't surprise me. I'd expected this conversation to more or less go the way it had. But her lack of commitment hurt me, wounded me deep down in a way I couldn't even begin to describe. Probably the same way that my doubt and hesitation did to Owen. He'd never said anything to me about it, but I could tell that Owen wanted something from me that I just wasn't ready or able to give him. Just as Bria wasn't ready to give me her love and trust. Not now, maybe not ever. Irony. Out to get me once again.
"I need some time to think about things, Gin," Bria said, running a hand through her blond hair. "I mean, it's not just you. After I left the train yard last night, I called Xavier and told him what had happened. Xavier's my partner, for crying out loud, and he knew more about you, about who you are and what you do, than I did. Or do. Or whatever. I feel ... betrayed. By him, by you, by the whole situation. I can't just snap my fingers and forget everything that I am just because I know who you are now."
"I understand," I said in a quiet voice.
And I did.
Once upon a time, I'd been a happy little girl with a mother and two sisters who had loved her. But fate or destiny or even simply circumstance had turned me into a killer. It was a choice that I'd embraced and something that I'd had to do in order to survive. I knew this. Rationally, I knew it, but it had still taken me a long time to adjust to the fact that I'd never be that carefree little girl again.
And neither would Bria. In many ways, my sister was just like me. She might believe in the law and in justice, while I put my faith in my knives and my will to use them, but deep down, we were more alike than she realized. We both did what needed to be done to protect the people we cared about. I just got more blood on me along the way. I wondered if Bria would ever realize that. I hoped she would. I hoped-for a lot of things. Too many things, really.
"Well, my invitation still stands," I said.
Bria frowned. "What invitation?"
"The one to the Christmas party tomorrow at Owen Grayson's house. I'd like you to come, if you would."
Bria immediately shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Gin. I just need some time to think about things. How much time, I don't know."
I nodded, accepting her request. After all, I was the Spider, the assassin whose rune was the symbol for patience. I'd wait for Bria-for however long it took.
"All right. I'll be here, whenever you're ready," I said. "In whatever way that you want me to be."
And then there was nothing left for us to talk about, not today, so Bria slid out of the booth and got to her feet. I did the same and unlocked the front door for her.
She put her hand on the knob and twisted it as if she was about to leave. But for some reason, she turned and faced me once more.
"Whatever issues there are between us, whatever bad things we've both done over the years, I want you to know that I'm glad you're alive, Gin," Bria said. "I'm glad you're alive."
It sounded like she was saying good-bye-forever. But before I could call out to her, before I could try to get her to stay, Bria opened the door, stepped out into the cold evening, and walked away.
Taking the last piece of my childhood, and maybe even my heart, with her.
Chapter 31
That night, I couldn't sleep. Part of it was Bria, of course, and everything that had been said between us. But mostly, I couldn't stop thinking about what my sister had told me-about the man with the green eyes who'd found her wandering around in the forest after Mab had murdered our mother and older sister.
So I got out of bed, headed downstairs, and went into Fletcher Lane's office.
I clicked on the light and stood in the doorway, staring into the room in front of me. The old man's office had always been something of a mess, with papers and folders and pens scattered everywhere, from his battered desk to the bookcases that hugged the walls to the filing cabinets on either side of the door. Supposedly there was some kind of method to the madness, although I'd never quite gotten the grasp of it. Fletcher had always claimed that there was no need to lock his office, because if someone ever broke in, she'd give up trying to find what she was looking for out of sheer frustration. The only reason I'd been able to find LaFleur's file was because it had actually been in one of the filing cabinets in its proper place.
Even though he'd been dead for a couple of months now, I just hadn't had the heart to clean out Fletcher's office yet. I supposed that part of me wanted to keep everything the way that it had been the day he'd died, as if that would somehow bring him back. The air even still smelled faintly of him-like sugar, spice, and vinegar swirled all together.
But the old man wasn't coming back, and I wanted answers. So I drew in a breath, stepped into the room, and started going through the stacks of papers.
An hour later, I was ready to give up, just as Fletcher had intended. Because I'd found nothing. No files, no papers, nothing that gave me any clue as to why the old man had rescued Bria or how he'd even known she was in trouble in the first place. Once again, Fletcher had kept secrets from me, and now, since the old man was gone, I doubted I'd ever get the answers to my questions.