I wondered how many other folks had stood in this exact same spot, facing down Grimes's mob. Would these gangsters all raise their weapons and fire at once? Would
they swarm me en masse? Or would they all throw themselves at me, drive me to the ground, and tear me limb from limb? No way to know, until they decided to attack.
I'd killed around a dozen men up on the ridge, but there were a dozen more gathered around me now. My gaze roamed over the crowd again, this time searching for any sign of weakness, any gap in the ring that might be big enough for me to fight my way through, any way that I could escape and live to kill another day. Or at least get back to Grimes and take him down before I died.
But there was nothing - no weakness, no gap, no hope of escape.
So I straightened my spine, stared back at the men, and braced myself for my impending execution.
I didn't have to wait long.
I'd only been standing in the ring of men for about two minutes when the front door of the house banged open, and Grimes and Hazel appeared. Hazel had her arm linked through his, and Grimes escorted her down the steps, through the yard, and out into the clearing in a show of gallantry as complete as any old-fashioned Southern gentleman ever could have managed.
The men parted enough to allow Grimes and Hazel to join in the ring. Once again, the big man kept out of arm's reach of me, but I swallowed my frustration. I couldn't kill Grimes, but I couldn't survive this either, despite my promise to Owen that I would. I'd known that the words were most likely a lie when I'd said them, but I'd at least hoped to destroy Grimes before I met my own end. Now I didn't even think that would happen.
My heart clenched at the thought of Owen, and I focused on the tightness in my chest, imagining it as a drumbeat and letting it steady me.
Live, live, live, live . . .
I could almost hear Owen's voice whispering that to me over and over again, and I seized onto that determination until there was no room for anything else. No doubt, no hesitation, no fear. Just the will to do what needed to be done to survive this.
Because if I couldn't kill Grimes now, that meant that
I had to live to try again another day.
The Fire elemental swept his hat off his head and bowed low to the crowd, before straightening back up and gesturing at me with his dapper fedora. "Allow me to introduce Ms. Blanco," he said in a loud, booming voice. "At least, that's what she says her name is. But we don't pay too much attention to names up here, do we, boys?"
The men all chuckled. Several wet their lips as they stared at me, while others slowly looked me up and down, their lecherous gazes trying to see my br**sts through the blood-soaked vest that I wore.
"Now, we all know what we do to the folks we decide to bring up to our camp or those who wander in here by accident," Grimes continued. "We give them a choice. They can stay, or they can go."
A choice? I seriously doubted that, but I had no idea what he was babbling on about.
"Usually, that choice only involves a few of you, since it's a reward for those who have worked extra hard over the last few weeks. But I think that you will all agree that Ms. Blanco's .. . antics have earned her a special sort of punishment."
The men all hooted and hollered, their dark cheers rising in a swelling tide of impending violence. The guy with the lighter clicked it on and held it up as if he was at a rock concert, while a few of the others fired their guns into the air or stamped their feet, like they were bulls about to charge me. I really should have been wearing a red cape. It was my color, after all.
Grimes raised his hands, and the commotion slowly quieted down. "Now, you all know how many good men we lost today because of Ms. Blanco and her friends."
The crowd sobered at that, and angry, accusing gazes slammed into me from all sides.
"Rest assured that we will track down the other people responsible for the attack on our camp, and we will deal with them accordingly. But in the meantime, there is the question of what to do with Ms. Blanco."
Grimes looked at each man in turn. "Well, boys? What should we do with her?"
A chorus of shouts erupted from the crowd.
"kill her!"
"Shoot the bitch where she stands!"
"Throw her in the pit!"
Naturally, that last screamed request came from Hazel.
Grimes grinned and cupped a hand to his ear, as though he were listening to each and every hoarse, murderous scream and was considering them all quite carefully. From Fletcher's file and what I'd seen, I'd thought that Grimes was just another bad guy, just another underworld thug, just another elemental who used his magic to keep his minions in line. But I had to admit that he had a certain charisma to him, a certain way of playing to a crowd, a certain cruel strength that others might admire and flock to. I had no doubt that his men feared him, but they respected him too.
After a few minutes, he raised his hands, and the men quieted down once more. "Well, those are all fine, fine ideas, but I have one that I think you'll like even better,"
Grimes said. "As some of you know, Ms. Blanco here claims to be the Spider, the most feared assassin in all of Ashland."
This time, derisive laughs and snorts rippled among the men.
"Now, I doubt that she's telling the truth," Grimes continued. "But let's say that she is. I know how much you boys like to go hunting, and I'd say that this is a prime opportunity to go up against the best of the best. Wouldn't you?"
More hoots and hollers. More stomping feet and lascivious grins. More fingers rubbing over the triggers of guns and the hilts of knives, itching to use the weapons on me.
"Now, we've all suffered a terrible loss here today,"
Grimes said, when the men had fallen silent once more.
"This woman has taken our brothers in arms from us.
Fine men and fine soldiers. She came up here, snuck up here in the shadows, and killed them, like a hunter shooting deer from a stand. Hardly sporting at all. So I say that we give her a taste of her own medicine and show her what it feels like to be hunted for a change."
Grimes fixed his gaze on mine. His eyes glowed a bright, almost golden brown, not from any Fire magic that he was embracing but from the strength and surety of his own crazy convictions.
"I like to think of myself as a sporting man, Ms. Blanco," Grimes said. "And the rules of this game are quite simple. You get a five-minute head start. After that, it's open season - on you."
When I didn't respond to his taunts or show so much as a flicker of fear, Grimes turned to his men once again.
"Bring her back dead, and you'll be richly rewarded," Grimes said. "Or, if you prefer, bring her back alive, and, well, the man who bags her can have her for an hour before we throw her in the pit and finish her off."