I tossed the bucket aside and reached down again. This time, my hand closed around a paintbrush with a thick handle. I snapped the brush down at an angle on the edge of the table, causing the wood to crack on a diagonal and giving me a sharp point to work with instead of just a blunt block of wood.
The giant reached for me again, and I buried the daggerlike tip of the paintbrush in his throat. The wood wasn't nearly as sharp as one of my knives, but I kept sawing it in deeper and deeper, and the giant quickly started backing away from me instead of surging forward.
I didn't let him.
I held on to the end of the paintbrush and followed him, still twisting the wooden point into his body. When his legs finally started to buckle, I ripped the wood out of his throat and drove the point through his right eye, causing him to topple to one side.
He was dead before he hit the floor, but I was already moving, moving, moving toward the third and final man.
"You bitch!" he growled.
The last man had a gun too, which he immediately turned in my direction. But the giant had forgotten that Owen was also still in the vault - and holding a burning welder's torch. Owen reached up, grabbed the giant's shoulder, and shoved the concentrated flame into the back of the giant's head. His hair went up in a whoosh of smoke, and the acrid smell of charred flesh flooded the vault. The giant forgot all about shooting me. Instead, he screamed and batted at Owen, trying to push him away. I grabbed my knives from the floor, and a blade to the giant's heart ended his struggles and misery.
I stood there, a knife in either hand, breathing hard and trying to suck down as much oxygen as I could and push away the dull, pulsing pain of the fight. Owen slowly lowered the torch and turned it off.
We stared at each other, blood everywhere, three dead giants at our feet, the air hot, thick, and caustic with the stench of melted metal, burnt hair, and singed skin. Not exactly a romantic reunion, but I'd take what I could get, especially since we'd both survived the fight.
"Gin?" Owen whispered, his face white and tight with shock. "Is that really you?"
I grinned. "Isn't all the blood a dead giveaway?"
"But I thought . . . in the rotunda . . . the body . . ." His voice trailed off, as if the words choked him.
I shook my head.
He looked at my ruined dress, and understanding flashed in his violet eyes. I kept staring at him, wondering what he was thinking, what he was feeling now that he knew I was still alive.
Without a word, Owen stepped forward, dragged me into his arms, bloody knives and all, and crushed his mouth to mine.
Chapter 16
I sighed, welcoming the sensation, welcoming the embrace, welcoming him.
For a moment, our bodies melded together, even as our tongues dueled back and forth in a hot, furious kiss. His fingers pressed into my back, and I stepped even closer to him, desperate for more, aching for every single part of me to be touching him. Owen's mouth slid off mine, and he buried his lips in my hair, his arms tightening around me even more, even as we both trembled and tried to catch our breath.
I closed my eyes, brought my hands up to his muscled back, and returned his hug, careful not to cut him with my knives. Then I just enjoyed the moment - the solid strength of his arms circling me again, the warmth of his skin pressing into mine, the hot whisper of his breath in my hair. I drank it all in, imprinting it on my mind, holding it close to my heart, and savoring every last second of it.
Then I dropped my arms and slowly pulled away from him, because we weren't safe yet, and the danger was far from over.
"How are you?" I asked. "Did they hurt you?"
Owen shook his head. "No. They just wanted me to open the vault, which I finally managed to do, right before that explosion ripped through the air. Your handiwork?"
I grinned again. "Of course."
Owen grinned back at me. Once again I savored the moment, then headed over to the vault door. Except for the wheel and hinges, which both had a smushed, melted look to them, the once-sturdy door was still intact - it just wasn't standing in front of the vault anymore. The door had been moved to one side, creating a five-foot-wide opening into the vault.
Owen noticed me staring at the door. "Once the giants and I got through the lock and hinges, Clementine picked up the door and lifted it out of the way all by herself. It was impressive. I had no idea she was that strong."
He was right. It was impressive - and worrisome. Because Clementine being that strong meant that I'd have to be even stronger to kill her. And I simply wasn't. Not now.
Oh, I was a powerful elemental, but I'd already used up part of my magic fighting her crew. I had some power stored in the spider rune ring on my index finger and the knives I was carrying, but I didn't know if it would be enough. Now I was starting to wonder if the power, magic, and energy I'd already expended would mean the difference between Clementine dying - or me.
Owen sighed and slumped against the side of the vault. For the first time, I noticed the sweat and soot on his face, the tired slant of his mouth, the slight sag of his shoulders. Sparks from the torches had landed on his tuxedo, leaving holes in his jacket, shirt, and pants, and his black hair was plastered to his forehead. Still, I thought he'd never looked more handsome or appealing.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
He nodded and straightened up. "Yeah, just tired. Using my magic on the door was hard - one of the hardest things I've ever done." He jerked his head at the opening. "But it worked just like Clementine said it would."
"Well, then," I said. "Let's finish the job for her and see what's inside."
* * *
The inside of the vault resembled something you'd see in a bank rather than a museum. A series of metal boxes lined one of the walls, while sturdy metal shelves took up two others. Three long tables cut through the center of the area, although their surfaces were clean and empty, I supposed so that the museum staff could open the metal boxes and sort through their contents there.
"Well, I certainly don't see any piles of gold," I said. "Do you?"
Owen shook his head.
Oh, there were valuables in the vault, and not just the expected paintings and sculptures. A pale jade elephant adorned with gold and emeralds peeped out from one of the shelves, right next to a small onyx statue of a mythological Nemean prowler, its ruby eyes flashing with some evil inner fire. A small antique violin gleamed inside an open case, while a diamond choker perched on a blue velvet stand, the gemstones proudly singing about their own exquisite clarity. The cluster of stones in the middle and the long, swooping lines of the necklace almost made it look like a spider spinning a web of diamonds.