Maybe if things went well with Mab tonight, I'd take out Jonah too. A little reward to myself for a job well done.
McAllister saw me staring at him. His nostrils flared with anger, and his mouth puckered into a cold frown that didn't register at all on the rest of his tight, ageless face. Since I was on Owen's arm tonight, there was nothing that McAllister could do about my being here, and we both knew it. So I waggled my fingers at him and blew the bastard a kiss. McAllister's mouth pursed that much more, but I didn't care.
Because I was ready to end this-all of this-tonight.
The minutes slipped by and turned into one hour, then two. I kept my attention on Mab as much as I could, waiting for her to separate herself from the crowd and her giant bodyguards who roamed through the room. I counted five of them on the ballroom floor, never moving more than a few feet away from the Fire elemental, looking for anyone suspicious or out of place. Even more giants strolled along the balconies above my head, continually circling the area. Their diligence would have made it impossible for me to station myself on a higher floor and snipe Mab from above, even if I'd managed to somehow sneak a crossbow into the club.
For her part, Mab seemed content to stay in the middle of the crowd and not wander off by herself where I could kill her. Still, I was the Spider, and I was good at being patient. I'd waited seventeen years for this moment. A few more minutes or even a few more hours was nothing in comparison to that.
Just before midnight, though, I finally got my chance.
Jonah turned to speak to someone and then swiveled back toward Mab-hitting her arm and spilling his bourbon all over the front of her crimson catsuit in the process. The liquor soaked into the spider rune on Mab's chest, making the symbol look like an inky stain bleeding over her heart.
The conversation around them froze, as Mab glared at her attorney, her black eyes as cold as the Ice sculptures that decorated the ballroom. Jonah murmured a hasty apology, but Mab was having none of it. The Fire elemental brushed him off with a wave of her hand.
Then she left the ballroom.
Mab stalked through the open double doors and vanished from sight, probably headed toward one of the bathrooms to try to wipe the bourbon off her expensive leather. I waited several seconds, expecting at least one or two of her giant bodyguards to fall in behind her. But none of them did.
"That looked a little too deliberate to me," Owen murmured.
"Oh, yeah," I replied. "It was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the head. But it means that her men have no clue who I am and that she's tired of waiting for me to show myself. So she's putting herself out there instead, the final bit of bait in the trap, which means that I have to follow. So wish me luck."
"Good luck," Owen said.
He didn't kiss me, not this time, but our eyes locked together. No words were spoken-we didn't need them. I could see the emotions flashing and sparking in Owen's gaze. Worry. Concern. Determination.
Love.
I stared back at him, trying to tell Owen all the things I wanted to say to him, all of the things that I just couldn't find the words for. He nodded once and squeezed my hand, his fingers warming my icy ones.
I squeezed back, then slipped out of the ballroom, heading after Mab.
At last.
Chapter 17
I stepped through the double doors of the ballroom and turned to my right, just as Mab had done. The Fire elemental strolled down the hallway about a hundred feet ahead of me, before coming to a junction and turning right again.
I followed her, although I dawdled, staring at the oil paintings on the walls, the crystal vases with their elaborate arrangements of roses, and anything else that caught my eye. Going straight after the Fire elemental would have tipped my hand, but now I was just another bored costumed character escaping the cloying confines of the ballroom in search of some fresh air. At least, that's the persona that I affected. Whether it would work well enough to get me close to Mab remained to be seen.
Just as I'd suspected, the Fire elemental headed for one of the women's bathrooms, opening the door and disappearing inside. I examined the pattern etched onto a Tiffany lamp before following her.
As befitting the grandiose nature of Five Oaks, the bathroom was just as monstrous and ostentatious as everything else. It was the size of a small house, with a large, formal sitting area that was all velvet couches and gilded mirrors, for ladies of a more delicate nature, should they need a place to rest and refresh their makeup. A few women clustered together in groups on the couches, already gossiping and exchanging catty comments about the night's ball, who had worn what, and who was f**king whom. A swinging door led into the bathroom itself, so that's where I headed.
An expanse of creamy white marble flecked with gold greeted me, along with real gold faucets and all the other nonsensical features that one finds in upscale bathrooms, where people have more money than sense to spend on the finest toilets that their trust funds can buy.
Mab was keeping up her charade rather well, standing at one of the sinks and dabbing at the bourbon stains on her crimson leather with a damp cloth. But there was a watchfulness in her black eyes, a tightness in her face, a stiffness in her whole body that told me she was ready to fry whoever came through the door after her.
So I ignored her.
A woman washed her hands at the sink in between me and Mab, and I didn't have a clear shot at the Fire elemental anyway. I went into one of the stalls, closed the door, and did my lady business, keeping up my charade that I was just another bored bimbo coming in here to use the facilities and get a break from the booze and bullshit that permeated the ballroom. I flushed the toilet, left the stall, and moved over to one of the sinks to wash my hands.
Mab stood in the same spot as before at the long counter, still dabbing at her red leather, still watching everyone who entered the bathroom. Women came and went in groups of ones and twos, a steady stream as befitting the crowd that had turned out for the ball. Mab's black eyes finally turned in my direction, but I opened the tap and soaped up my hands like that was the only thing in the world I was here for. I made my movements small, casual, ordinary, as if I were no more a threat to Mab than a fly on the wall.
I couldn't help but grimace at the irony, though. The last time that I'd been this close to the Fire elemental had been in another bathroom-hers-the night that I'd killed Jake McAllister. I'd been disguised as a blond, busty hooker, one of Roslyn's girls from Northern Aggression, and I'd gone so far as to proposition Mab in order to distract her from finding Jake's body in her bathtub. The Fire elemental had turned me down, with obvious regret, but my ruse had helped me escape.