Sophia was incredibly strong, even for a dwarf, but what really set her apart was the fact that she had the same elemental Air magic that her sister, Jo-Jo, did. The older dwarf used her magic to heal, but Sophia did something different with hers. In addition to putting blood vessels and broken bones back together, Air magic was also great for tearing them apart-and sandblasting bloodstains, DNA, and brain matter off doors, floors, walls, and wherever else it happened to spatter. Sophia wouldn't bother getting rid of the tacky pools of blood in the parking lot, since the harsh winter elements would soon erode them. But she would take care of the dwarven bounty hunters' bodies for me, disintegrating them with her Air magic and hauling off whatever pieces were left to parts unknown.
"We're going to Jo-Jo's to get Bria patched up," I told Sophia. "See you there?"
"Mmm-hmm," she said in a distracted tone, already pulling on a pair of gloves, probably so she wouldn't ruin her manicure. Her nails gleamed pearl pink in the semi-darkness, the soft, girly color looking decidedly at odds with her stark black coveralls.
"I'll stay with her," Xavier said. "Just in case anyone wonders what she's doing and comes over to investigate."
I nodded. There was a slim chance anyone would venture by at this late hour, at least someone who was still sober and not soused from their time inside Northern Aggression. But if they did, the giant would flash his police badge and send them on their way. Good. Sophia could take care of herself, but it never hurt to have someone around watching your back.
"Thanks," I told the giant. "I owe you one."
Xavier grinned. "Nah, you don't owe me anything. At least not for this. Although I wouldn't be opposed to another free lunch or two. That was one fine meal we had today."
I raised an eyebrow. "Better be careful talking about how good my cooking is. Roslyn might get jealous."
The vampire madam let out a soft laugh. "Oh, I'll freely admit that your cooking is much better than mine, Gin. But I have certain skills you don't, especially in the bedroom. I think that Xavier far prefers those, even over a plate of the Pork Pit's best barbecue."
Roslyn gave Xavier a sly look, and the giant's grin widened.
"Well played, Roslyn," I murmured. "Well played."
Xavier gave Roslyn a hot, lingering look that told me exactly what the two of them would be doing later on. Then the giant moved over to stand by Sophia, who had pulled a measuring tape out of her coveralls to see how many of the bounty hunters' bodies she could squeeze into the trunk of her convertible. Despite its swooping fins and clean lines, the black vehicle always reminded me of a hearse. Tonight, the dwarven mobsters would take their last ride in it.
Roslyn went back inside Northern Aggression to continue circulating through the crowd and keep up appearances. Finn and I helped Bria limp over to his Aston Martin, which was parked in the nightclub's east lot.
Bria and I didn't speak while we rode over to Jo-Jo's house. My sister was still pissed that I'd killed her informant, even though Jenkins had sold her out. Finn tried to fill in the silence, cracking wise and telling a few jokes, but even his antics couldn't defrost the tension between us.
Twenty minutes later, the three of us were in the warm, familiar confines of Jo-Jo's salon. Bria sat in one of the cherry red salon chairs, while Jo-Jo examined her face with a critical eye.
"That's a nasty cut you've got there, darling," the dwarf told Bria. "The bastard walloped you good, didn't he?"
Bria grimaced. "That he did."
Jo-Jo held her palm up close to Bria's face and reached for her Air magic. The dwarf's power filled the salon, once more making the spider rune scars on my palms itch and burn. Jo-Jo leaned forward, and Bria hissed like an angry cat. Not because Jo-Jo was hurting her, but because she could sense the dwarf's Air magic, just like I could-and it felt nothing like our cool Ice magic or even my similar Stone power.
"I don't like the feel of it either," I said in a quiet voice, coming to stand beside her. "The Air magic."
Jo-Jo passed her hand over Bria's face, forcing oxygen into all the cuts that marred her features. I watched while the gash above her eye knit itself together, and the ugly bruising faded from her skin.
Bria gritted her teeth. "It's not the most pleasant sensation, but I'll live."
"Sometimes, it's better if you hold on to something," I said, stretching out my hand. "It helps distract your mind from the pain."
Bria looked at my hand hovering in midair, my fingers curled up; then her blue gaze flicked up to my face. I know what she saw when she looked at me. A woman dressed in black. A woman covered in blood. A killer. A murderer. A monster. No matter how she tried to hide it, Bria couldn't forget who and what I was-and how conflicted she felt about it.
Finally, she sighed and grabbed my hand. Her palm felt cool and soothing against mine. Bria might not like my past as an assassin, might not like my being the Spider now, but she also knew that part of me would always be Genevieve Snow-the big sister she'd loved so much as a child.
"You squeeze as hard as you need to."
Bria just nodded, her hand tightening around mine.
Besides the cuts on her face and a few cracked ribs, my sister wasn't that banged up from grappling with the bounty hunter, so it took Jo-Jo only a few minutes to heal her. Then the dwarf did the same to me, taking care of the injuries that Don had inflicted on me. Afterward, the three of us trooped into the kitchen.
Most people preferred the salon, but the kitchen was my favorite room in the house, maybe because I loved to cook so much. A long, skinny table sliced the kitchen into two pieces, while appliances done in a variety of pastel colors hugged the walls. Fat, fluffy clouds dotted the fresco-painted ceiling like marshmallows. More clouds could be found everywhere you looked, from the pot holders stacked next to the stove to the dishcloths piled beside the sink. Like other elementals, Jo-Jo also used her personal rune-a puffy cloud that symbolized her Air magic-in her decorating scheme.
Finn stood by the counter, having just finished making his thirteenth cup of coffee of the day. As always, the chicory fumes warmed me from the inside out and made me think of his father. I wished that the old man were here tonight. Fletcher would have known exactly what to do about the mess we were in-the mess I'd dragged us all into by declaring war on Mab in the first place.
Finn stared at me with his green eyes. "Any chance of getting something sweet to go with my coffee?" he asked in a hopeful voice.
I arched an eyebrow at him. "You mean all those pieces of strawberry pie that you ate for lunch weren't enough?"