While I waited, I planned my revenge.
Madeline had spent weeks setting her grand scheme into motion. Framing Bria and Eva. Causing business problems for Roslyn, Owen, Finn, and Jo-Jo. Coercing her maid into trying to kill me. Getting the Pork Pit shut down with that ridiculous health inspection. Bribing Dobson to put me in the bull pen. That had all taken time, energy, and money to pull off, and I wanted the same time to think and plan and plot.
But most of all, with my supposed death, I wanted to see what Madeline would do next.
Now that I was out of her way, there was nothing to stop her from assuming Mab’s position as head of the Ashland underworld, and she would make sure that all of the crime bosses knew that she was the one who’d so thoughtfully, elegantly orchestrated my death. They might grumble about it under their breath, but the other bosses would have no choice but to bow down to their new queen, or she would kill them the same way that she’d supposedly killed me.
So I huddled in the Dumpster and thought through all the implications, wondering how I could stop Madeline’s reign of terror once and for all. The acid elemental was smart, clever, and cunning. So far, she’d been three steps ahead of me in our little game, and as soon as she realized that I was still alive, she’d start scheming more than ever before.
But what would she do if I stayed dead?
She would gloat and preen and then turn her attention to other matters, like solidifying her hold on the underworld. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my death was the key to taking her down. I needed to hit Madeline the same way that she had me—completely blindside and bulldoze her until she was buried six feet under.
I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to go about doing that yet, but one thing was for certain.
I was sure as hell looking forward to it.
* * *
People streamed in and out of the alley the rest of the day as my supposed body was loaded up and carted away, and the Pork Pit was officially condemned as a safety hazard. To help keep my strength up, I guzzled down a bottle of water and ate some of the granola bars that were in the zippered pockets of my duffel bag. Then I made myself as comfortable as possible and dozed on and off through all the noise. That was the only thing I could do.
Finally, night fell, and the clamor and commotion around the restaurant faded away. About an hour after the sun set, I felt safe enough to get to my feet and peer over the side of the Dumpster.
The alley was deserted.
I looked left and right, scanning the shadows, but all of the cops, firefighters, and other officials had vanished, along with all of the curious passersby. Of course they had. Everyone thought that I was dead. There was no reason to stick around and gawk anymore.
So I climbed out of the Dumpster, rotten bits of food and other disgusting garbage dripping off my cold, sweaty, soot-streaked clothes. As soon as my feet touched the cracked pavement, I slid behind the container, out of sight of anyone who might glance down or even enter the alley.
The night was cool, and I was stiff and sore from staying in the same cramped position for so long. So I spent a few minutes bending and stretching to get the blood flowing back to every part of my body. Then I had to take care of the pressing matter of my lady business.
Once that was done, I dug a couple of tins of Jo-Jo’s healing ointment out of my duffel bag and smeared the soothing concoction all over the injuries I hadn’t been able to reach before now. I sighed as the soft pins-and-needles of her healing magic traveled up and down my body. I’d never liked the feel of Jo-Jo’s power, as her Air magic was the opposite of my Ice and Stone power, but those small stabs reminded me that I was still alive and that this wasn’t all some crazy dream.
When I felt like I could actually move without groaning in pain, I dropped to a knee, opened up my bag even wider, and surveyed the items inside. I’d used up all of Jo-Jo’s healing ointment, and I only had a bottle of water and one granola bar left. Several of my extra knives glinted in the bag, nestled inside the piles of clothes and money.
I stared at my supplies, thinking about my next move. I didn’t have a phone, and it wasn’t like I could walk into one of the nearby businesses and ask to use one. Not when I’d been sitting in a Dumpster all day. The owners would think that I was a homeless bum, trying to scrounge around for some free airtime. They wouldn’t be too far from the truth. Besides, someone might recognize me, and I couldn’t afford to let that happen. Madeline thought that I was dead, and I had to take advantage of her ignorance for as long as and as best I could. If I squandered this opportunity, I’d be right back where I started—waiting for Madeline to strike out at me and mine.
But I desperately needed to let Owen, Bria, Finn, and the others know that I was okay. Since I didn’t have a phone and couldn’t risk trying to find one, that meant a hike up into Northtown to locate my friends. But where would they be? Jo-Jo’s salon, most likely, or maybe Owen’s mansion. Someplace where they could all gather and plan what to do next.
Owen would be coldly furious, Bria would want to try to arrest Madeline, and Finn would be demanding that they all load up and let him put a bullet in the acid elemental’s head. As tempting as that last thought was, it still wouldn’t solve my problems with the underworld bosses, although I thought there was something that would get them and Madeline off my back at the same time. Either way, I had to get to my friends before they went off the rails and declared war on Madeline.
But how to get from here to there without being seen? Oh, I had enough money to take a cab, and I could always steal a car, but I wanted to keep my exposure to a minimum. That meant no cabs, no breaking and entering, no stealing, and no drawing any attention to myself whatsoever. But I couldn’t exactly stroll down the streets covered in garbage . . .
Or could I?
I looked at the Dumpster in front of me, then down at my clothes, which were soaked, soiled, and slathered with all sorts of things better left to the imagination. Burning would be too good for the filthy garments, but maybe I could get one more use out of them.
I stripped off all of my dirty clothes, shivering in the cool dark of the alley as I shimmied into clean underwear, jeans, socks, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. But I didn’t stop there. I kept pulling and pulling on clothes, until I was wearing every single item in the bag—all the socks, all the T-shirts, even a silverstone vest—and resembled some sort of marshmallow person. Then, as a final touch, I put my soiled T-shirt back on top of all the clean layers that I was wearing. I hated to do it, and it almost made me vomit up the granola bars I’d eaten earlier, but no one was going to look too closely at me when I was reeking of so much garbage.