Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite

is stronger than me.”
    Flinging raw power, raw magic, at each other was how elementals fought. Testing their strength against the other person’s. Sometimes, the duels took seconds. Sometimes, hours. But eventually, someone’s magic always prevailed, always overpowered the other person’s. And when that happened, the unlucky elemental was overwhelmed and fell under the onslaught of the other’s power. Suffocated by Air, frozen by Ice, hammered by Stone.
    Burned alive by Fire, like my mother and older sister.
    I shook my head, banishing the ugly memories. “No thanks. All I need to get the job done is my silverstone knives. Nothing else. Magic is too easy. Makes you take stupid chances, makes you think you’re invincible, makes you sloppy. I’ll use it when I have to, but I’m not going to depend on it.”
    I didn’t mention the fact I’d already done enough horrid things with my magic to last a lifetime. That I’d killed with it long before Fletcher had taken me in off the streets. That I’d lashed out with it without thinking, and used my power to crumble the stones of my own house so I could escape from my torturers. That the combination of fires the elemental had started and my magic made the whole structure come tumbling down. That Bria, my younger sister, had died because of what I’d done, been buried alive just like everyone else.
    Some of the many reasons I didn’t use my power like that now, unless there was no other option. It only reminded me of that darker time, when everything I’d known had been lost in one fiery night.
    Jo-Jo finished her work and dropped her hand, but her pale eyes stayed on my face. “We’ll see.”
    The front door banged open, and heavy footsteps smacked against the hallway floor. A few seconds later, Sophia Deveraux stepped into the salon.
    Sophia was an inch taller than her older sister, and her body was thicker, with an extra layer of hard muscle. Where Jo-Jo was light, Sophia was dark—as in Goth. Short, straight black hair clung to her head, matching her eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick. Her eyes were also a flat black. Instead of a dress, Sophia wore black jeans, black boots, and a black T-shirt embossed with hot-pink skulls. The skulls matched the plastic ones hanging off the spiked, black leather collar that ringed her thick throat. Even though she was a hundred and thirteen, Sophia had the moody adolescent look down pat.
    Sophia flopped into one of the salon chairs and examined the pink glitter polish on her nails. Jo-Jo leaned over and patted her sister’s hand. Despite their obvious differences, the sisters were close. Living together for more than a hundred years would do that to you. Sophia gave Jo-Jo a half smile, her most animated and pleasant expression.
    “Any problems getting rid of the bodies?” I asked.
    Sophia’s black eyes met my gray ones. “Nuh-uh.” The Goth dwarf’s version of no.
    Like Jo-Jo’s healing, I’d also inherited Sophia’s expertise when Fletcher retired from the assassin business. I didn’t know exactly how Sophia disposed of the bodies I sent her way. What she did with them, where she put them, why she even liked doing that sort of dirty work in the first place. But the Goth dwarf could clean up like nobody’s business. Sophia left every site pristine. No blood, no fibers, no hairs, no DNA, or evidence of any sort. The fact she baked the best sourdough bread in Ashland was an added bonus.
    “Good. I’m going to need you to run the Pork Pit the next few days.” I swallowed the acid that once again coated my throat. “And call the cops in the morning.”
    I told Sophia about everything that had happened tonight. The dwarf didn’t say anything. But for a moment, something dark and soulful sparked in her gaze. It might have been sorrow. Hard to tell with Sophia. She was even colder than I was.
    Once I made the arrangements with Sophia, I thanked Jo-Jo for her hospitality and skills, and promised to have Finn wire her the usual amount. Then I stood up, put the hooker’s bloody shirt back on, and roused Finn, who was taking a catnap in the salon chair.
    “Come on,” I said. “We’ve still got things to do tonight.”
    “Like what?” Jo-Jo asked.
    I ran a hand through my hair. My fingers caught on a clump of blood. “We took some things off the guys at Finn’s apartment. I want to go through them. I also want to see what’s on the news and what’s been leaked to the press. Gordon Giles’s attempted