Game time.
I waited until Delov had stepped into the library, then got to my feet and tiptoed across the hall, easing up against the wall. The giant snapped on a light, and its harsh golden glare filled the library like the rays of a noontime sun. Peaches started barking even louder. The dog scuttled out from underneath the desk, skipped over to Delov, and wound his way through the giant's feet before prancing back over to the desk. The giant frowned, looking at the dog and watching his happy, excited movements. After a moment, his mouth tightened, and he raised his gun.
"Come on out from behind that desk," Delov growled. "I'd hate to ruin all that antique wood by plugging it full of holes, but I will."
Silence.
Then the leather chair rolled away from the desk, and Fletcher slowly crawled out from his hiding place and got to his feet. He faced Delov and raised his hands. Despite the healing salve he'd used, even more blood covered Fletcher's blue shirt than before, along with the palms of his hands where he'd used them to keep pressure on the wound.
"You thought you could come into my house and murder me?" Delov snarled. "Who do you think you are?"
Fletcher just grinned at him, which only infuriated the giant even more. Delov stepped forward and leveled his gun at Fletcher's head, ready to put a few more bullets into the old man.
And that's when I made my move.
I slid into the library as quiet as a shadow. Delov was so focused on Fletcher that he never thought to look behind him, so he never saw me coming. Instead of going for the giant's back, I aimed low, slicing my knife across his right hamstring as brutally as I could, hoping to put him down on my level, so to speak. Delov let out an angry, pain-filled bellow, even as his leg buckled and slid out from under him. The gun went off, shattering one of the glass windows to Fletcher's right and not the old man's skull.
But Delov wasn't done. He rolled over onto his back, bringing his gun up and around and searching for the person who'd attacked him.
I didn't give him a chance to fire a second shot. I surged forward and slashed down with the knife, cutting into his right wrist. The silverstone blade skittered off the thick bones there. Delov howled with pain again, and the gun slid from his hand. I kicked it away, then threw myself on top of him - knife-first. I sank the blade deep into Delov's chest, scraping against his ribs. The giant screamed and dug his left hand into my hair, yanking me back and off him. I kept hold of the knife, though, and as soon as the blade slid free of his chest, I twisted around and stabbed his arm with it. When he let go of my hair, I brought the knife back down into his chest again - and again and again, until his screams faded away and he finally quit fighting me.
When it was over and Delov was dead, I got to my feet and turned to face Fletcher, who was leaning against the desk for support. The old man looked down at Delov, then Peaches, who was sniffing his master's body.
"I was wondering why that dog suddenly decided to come in here," Fletcher said, lifting his green gaze to mine. "You led him and Delov straight to me, didn't you?"
I nodded.
"You used me, Gin," he said, a note of accusation creeping into his voice. "You used me as bait for Delov. As a stalking horse."
I winced and nodded again. "I couldn't think of another way to take him down. I couldn't kill him myself, not face-to-face, anyway, and I thought I'd have a better chance with a sneak attack."
Fletcher didn't say anything. He just kept staring at me with a thoughtful expression, as though I were some curious creature he'd never seen before.
"Are you angry with me?" I whispered, my heart twisting at the thought.
He gave me a rueful grin. "Well, I won't deny that you gave me a scare there for a minute. But I'll get over it. You did what you had to in order to save us both, Gin. Don't ever apologize for that. Especially not to me. I've done far worse than you tonight. Used people, manipulated them, lied to them time and time again in order to accomplish my goal. Using folks, deceiving them, putting them in certain situations - it's all part of being an assassin. If you live long enough, you'll do worse yourself, even to folks you consider friends, maybe even to those you love. You'll hurt them, whether by choice, chance, accident, or design."
I shook my head. "No, I would never do something like that."
"Sure you would. You just did. Here, tonight."
I looked down at Delov. The answer was in the giant's blood slowly soaking into the colorful rug underneath his body.
A sad smile curved Fletcher's lips. "I don't blame you, Gin, and you shouldn't blame yourself either. It's just the nature of what we do - of what you do now. But no matter what, remember this: all that really matters in the end is protecting the people you care about, even if they don't like how you do it, even if they hate you for it. Because I'd rather have somebody alive and hating me than dead and buried, with me knowing that I failed them."
I nodded, listening to his words, even if I didn't really believe that I could ever do anything horrible enough to somebody I cared about to make him hate me for it.
"But that's enough philosophical talk for one night," Fletcher said. "Delov is dead, and we aren't. So what do you say you drive me over to Jo-Jo's so the old girl can patch me up?"
I nodded and pointed at the Pomeranian. "And what about Peaches? We can't just leave him here. There's no one to take care of him."
Fletcher regarded the fluffball. "No, I suppose not. Maybe we'll give him to the Kilroy girl, the one who lived. Might help take her mind off her sister's death. Besides, every girl should have a dog. So grab him, and let's go."
While Fletcher hobbled down the hall toward our exit point, I slid the bloody knife up my sleeve and picked up the Pomeranian, staring into his soft, liquid brown eyes.
"You're just lucky you're so cute," I muttered to the dog.
Peaches barked and licked my cheek, and I let out a relieved laugh -
Something wet splattered onto my face, snapping me out of my memories.
I punched my hands in the air, thinking that maybe Clementine wasn't as dead as I thought she was. The motion made my ribs and collarbone ache worse, and I groaned with pain. A moment later, more wet drops hit my skin, and I realized that it was just the river sloshing up onto the walkway where I was lying.
I sighed and blinked away the last fragments of my dream. I was in the same position as before, sprawled next to Clementine's body in the boathouse. Everything was still and quiet, except for the soft, constant rush of the river and the macabre mutters of the marble as it soaked up the violence I'd committed here tonight.