Hot, sour, bitter bile rose in my throat at the thought of what the Fire elemental would do to my sister, of how she would torture her. Just because she could. My stomach twisted, and it took what little strength I had left to keep from vomiting.
"I'm so sorry, Gin," Finn said. "So f**king sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't set my sights on Bria, if I hadn't tried to seduce her tonight, if I hadn't baited her, if I'd just answered my damn phone when you first called..."
Finn swallowed the rest of his words, but I could hear the anguish in his voice. Despite his womanizing ways, Finn genuinely cared for Bria. Even more than that, she was part of our makeshift family now. He would have felt the same way if Jo-Jo had been kidnapped or Sophia or me. And I couldn't point the finger of blame at Finn too much. We all made mistakes, we all f**ked up from time to time. Not too long ago, one of my screwups had led to my foster brother's almost being killed in the Ashland Rock Quarry. No, I couldn't fault Finn for being himself, for doing what was in his nature. I just couldn't. I'd already lost Bria tonight-I wasn't losing him too.
So I roused myself out of my stupor long enough to lean over and squeeze his cold hand. "If you'd answered my call and tried to leave the house, you might have run into the bounty hunters coming up the driveway and been captured immediately. It's okay. We'll get her back. Bria will be fine. You'll see."
Finn nodded, but we could both hear the hollow echo in my weak, mumbled words.
We headed due west to the suburbs that lay on the far side of Ashland. Given the late hour, falling snow, and treacherous roads, we didn't pass a single car-not one. We'd gotten our clean getaway after all-it had just come too late for Bria.
Twenty minutes later, Finn left the main road. He made a series of turns, finally steering the car into what looked like two ruts leading smack-dab to the middle of nowhere. A mile later, the car broke free of the snow-laden trees, and Finn stopped in front of an enormous log cabin that had been built into the side of this particular ridge.
In the dark, the cabin looked like a stain that had been spilled over the pristine carpet of the white, fluffy snow. No lights burned in the structure, which was flanked by trees, but one of the fins on Sophia's classic convertible peeked around the far side of the building. The Goth dwarf and Jo-Jo had made it here. I just hoped that the others had too.
The cabin was a safe house Fletcher had kept up for years, one of several that the old man had maintained. Now that he was gone, the only people who knew about the place were me, Finn, Owen, and the Deveraux sisters. But that didn't mean there still couldn't be trouble lurking inside-not with all the bounty hunters in the city who were searching for me. So I made myself pick up my bloody knives from the floorboard. Next to me, Finn pulled out one of his guns again. The two of us left the car and approached the house cautiously, sliding from shadow to shadow and watching for any sign of movement behind the curtains.
We'd only gotten halfway across the yard, when the light on the front porch snapped on. Finn and I both dropped into a low crouch, weapons ready. A moment later, the front door creaked open, and Jo-Jo stuck her head outside, no doubt looking for us. Finn and I climbed back to our feet and headed her way. The dwarf spotted us and opened her mouth to call out a greeting. Then she saw there were only two of us-and that Bria wasn't here.
"Gin?" Jo-Jo asked in a soft voice, stepping back to turn on some more lights.
I shook my head and plodded past her inside.
The cabin was exactly what you'd expect to find in this part of Ashland. Large, sprawling, roomy, and filled with rustic, woodsy furniture done in dark, manly shades. Soapstone figures carved into the shapes of various animals crouched on the tables, while paintings of mountains and creeks covered the smooth log walls.
They were all gathered in the downstairs living room, huddled together on the couches and chairs. Xavier and Roslyn held hands on a love seat in front of the windows. Warren Fox sat next to them in an old-fashioned rocking chair. Warren's granddaughter, Violet, perched on one side of another sofa, next to her best friend, Eva Grayson. Sophia stood by herself next to the fireplace, stirring up the flames that flickered there. And finally, there was Owen, already moving toward me, concern flashing in his eyes. Everyone was here, everyone was safe, except for Bria.
The guilt and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed in the middle of the floor.
Owen scooped me up, carried me into the next room, and gently laid me down on the bed there. Jo-Jo pushed up the sleeves of her pink flannel housecoat, leaned over, and started working her healing magic on me. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, for once not even caring that the dwarf's Air magic pricked my skin like hundreds of tiny needles. The discomfort was nothing to what I'd endured at Mab's hands tonight.
It was nothing to what Bria could be suffering this very second.
Owen held my hand as Jo-Jo healed me. I could hear the others talking in low, strained voices out in the main den. Finn would have filled everyone in on what had happened at Fletcher's house. Even now, though he had to be as exhausted as I was, my foster brother would be working the phones, contacting his myriad sources, trying to determine if Bria was still alive or if Mab had killed her on sight. The others would huddle around him, staring at each other and trying to think of some way to help, of some way to rescue Bria, of some way out of this mess. They shouldn't have bothered. Because it was a mess that I'd created, just by being born, just by existing in the same world as Mab, just by breathing-or so it seemed tonight.
A few minutes later, Jo-Jo dropped her hand, and the feel of her Air magic faded away.
"There," the dwarf said in a low voice. "Good as new. I'll give you two a minute to talk."
I nodded, and Jo-Jo left the room. As soon as the door closed, Owen lay down on the bed beside me and drew me into his arms.
"Oh, Gin," he said, his lips pressed against my temple. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry. For you and for Bria."
For a moment, I clung to him, letting him hold me, letting him be the strong one. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of Owen's arms around me, of his smell, that rich scent that always made me think of metal. The warmth from his body heated my own, melting the icy numbness that had gripped me since Gentry had dragged Bria away in the woods. I shuddered in a breath and came back to myself.
And then the moment passed, the way it always did, whether I wanted it to or not.
And I knew it was time to get on with things. Time for me to be the Spider once more. To be the assassin that Fletcher had raised me to be. To do the thing it seemed the old man had been secretly preparing me for all these years.