Owen, Finn, and Phillip exchanged glances at the cold violence echoing through my words, but they didn’t try to talk me out of my plan.
“Besides,” I said in a more normal voice, “Benson has to realize that I’ll be coming for Silvio, if nothing else.”
“And?” Owen asked.
I let out a breath. “And it’s personal too. I won’t deny it. That bastard strapped me down to a chair, pumped me full of drugs, and sat there and took notes like I was his own private lab rat. I can’t let that stand. Not as Gin, and definitely not as the Spider. I can already imagine what folks are saying about me.”
Finn winced. “Nothing good. The rumors are already flying around. Basically, most of them boil down to Benson making you scream like a girl.”
I stabbed my finger at him. “Exactly. Everyone knows that he got the upper hand on me and that you guys had to come and bust me out of his mansion. If I don’t take care of him now, it’ll only get worse. It’ll renew everyone’s interest in killing me.”
“Did that ever really wane?” Phillip asked in a snide voice.
I shot him a dirty look, but he merely arched a golden eyebrow in return before pouring himself another mimosa from the pitcher on the table.
“As I was saying, Benson’s probably been crowing all over town about how he so thoroughly humbled me,” I said. “Well, I plan to return the favor. Benson thinks that he’s the king of Southtown, and he’s put all his rivals in the ground for years now. I say it’s time to knock the king off his throne.”
Finn sighed, grabbed a final strip of bacon off his plate, and crunched down on it. “Why do I get the feeling that this is going to be some grand operation that will most likely involve me schlepping to some disgusting rooftop and getting my clothes dirty yet again?”
I grinned. “Funny you should mention that. I’ve already worked out some of the details with Bria. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
26
Just before noon, I strolled down the street that led up to Beauregard Benson’s mansion.
Forget the sidewalks. I walked right down the center of the street between the two faded double yellow lines, just like I had been doing for the last several blocks.
I’d started my journey at the community college, where the whole shebang had begun a few days ago. It seemed ironic and rather fitting. I’d parked my car in the lot there, gotten out, and headed into Southtown on foot. I’d been walking ever since.
At first, everything had been normal. People moved on the streets, flowing in and out of restaurants, grocery stores, and other businesses. Conversation floated through the air, along with the rumble of cars and the smells of exhaust and fried foods. But the deeper I headed into Southtown, the more storefronts were boarded up, the more rune graffiti covered the buildings, and the more people ducked their heads and scurried away from one another as fast as they could.
It wasn’t all that far from the college to Benson’s mansion, maybe ten blocks, but eyes had been on me the whole time.
Gangbangers had already gathered on the street corners, smoking, drinking, and selling their daily allotment of weed, pills, and other drugs. A few vampire hookers had already started trolling for clients, slowly sashaying back and forth on the sidewalks, while their pimps dozed on the stoops or in their cars, knowing that the real action wouldn’t start until sunset. The bums had begun their daily trash rounds, digging in the Dumpsters for whatever they could salvage, while the working-class folks hurried along the sidewalks or zoomed by in their cars. But everyone peered at me, wondering what the crazy chick was doing and how many more blocks I would make it before someone started hassling me.
Good. For once, I wanted everyone to notice me. I wanted everyone to see the Spider and exactly what she was capable of.
That wasn’t to say that there weren’t a few problems with my march. There was still traffic on the street, and cars beeped their horns as they approached me, wondering what I was doing strolling down the pavement like I owned it.
I was wearing my usual ensemble of dark jeans, black boots, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and my black silverstone vest. With my hair pulled back into a ponytail, I looked like some college student who’d gotten lost in the bad part of town. I didn’t seem particularly threatening, but one look at my hard face and cold eyes had most drivers putting their feet on the gas and steering away from me as fast as they could. A few of the gangbangers whistled and catcalled in my direction, but I gave them the same flat stares that I gave the drivers, and their jeers and laughter soon quieted down. Given the mood I was in, I was killing anyone who got between me and Benson, stepping over their bodies, and walking on. The folks on the street didn’t have his Air power and the precognition that went along with it, but it was easy to tell that I was up to no good.
As I walked, I whistled out a cheery tune. I was actually looking forward to what was coming. For months now, my anger and frustration about everyone targeting me had been slowly building. All I’d wanted was to be left alone, but the underworld bosses hadn’t gotten the message. Well, Benson was going to be the perfect outlet for all my rage, and he was going to help me drive my point home—right before I shoved my knife through his heart and out the other side.
But something curious and most unexpected happened: the farther I went, the more people appeared on the sidewalks. The gangbangers, the hookers, the pimps, even some of the homeless bums, started following me. Someone must have recognized me, because it wasn’t long before the whispers began.
“Hey, isn’t that the Spider?’
“You mean the assassin chick?”
“I thought she was dead, that Benson killed her.”
“Apparently not. Looks like she is here for payback.”
I grinned. And then some.
The whispers continued, and the crowd followed me block after block, until I finally reached my destination.
The street I was on led straight into the one that fronted Benson’s estate, which spread out before me like the palace of a king. I’d been too woozy from the sedative yesterday to really appreciate the beauty of the prewar gray stone mansion with its elegant crenellation and soaring columns. It used to be an apartment building, from the information that Silvio had given me, before Benson had it converted into his own private residence and drug-cooking factory. The mansion butted right up against the street, and I’d seen the lush green grounds and the river beyond it for myself yesterday, when Bria had rescued me.