Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite

for obvious reasons. Finn was right. There was no way to tell which kind of elemental it belonged to. The rune didn’t mean anything in and of itself, just like they had no real power unless you created or imbued them with magic.
    I might have dismissed the tooth rune as a mere trinket, if not for the gruesome way Fletcher had been tortured. I’d seen just about all the bad things people could do to each other, and I knew the signs of Air elemental magic when I saw them. Shortie had been working for someone. It made sense he would wear his employer’s symbol, whoever she might be.
    “We’ll figure it out,” I promised. “Let’s see what else is here.”
    We went through the rest of the items. More fake IDs, a few credit cards, and several hundred bucks in cash. Nothing useful. The television droned on in the background while we worked. At five in the morning, the early news program blared on. The top story was the incident at the opera house. Finn and I sat on the couch and watched the spectacle.
    A reporter stood outside the opera house. Red lights flickered in the background. “A tragedy occurred last night at the Ashland Opera House, as a deranged woman attempted to kill one of the attendees. The target was believed to be Gordon Giles, a wealthy Ashland businessman and the chief financial officer of Halo Industries.”
    The same headshot of Giles that was in Fletcher’s file popped up on the screen. The reporter recounted the events of the evening, albeit with a great deal of spin. Now, instead of busting into the box seats, detective Donovan Caine had prevented me from entering, with an innocent bystander tragically losing his life in the process. Media bullshit. I wondered how they would explain the bloodstains being inside the box instead of out in the hallway.
    “Even though Giles was not harmed in the initial incident, he was involved in a traffic accident on his way home. A large SUV hit his limo. Police say the impact ignited the gas tank, and the vehicle exploded. Giles and his driver were pronounced dead at the scene.”
    The television cut to a shot of a limo engulfed by flames. Killing Giles, torturing Fletcher. Busy girl, our mysterious Air elemental.
    “They killed Giles anyway,” Finn murmured. “They really must have wanted him dead.”
    The reporter appeared on the screen again. “Giles was attacked by this woman, believed to be the businessman’s disgruntled former lover and a possible prostitute. She is also believed to have been behind the car accident that led to his death. Police are not releasing her name, but a detective on the scene provided officials with this sketch.”
    I snorted. They weren’t releasing my name because they didn’t know it. But a moment later, my face appeared on the monitor. Or at least, what might have passed for my face if you tilted your head just right and squinted real hard. It wasn’t a completely inaccurate rendering. Donovan Caine had at least gotten my eyes and the hard set of my mouth right, even if the black toboggan had hidden my bleached blond hair. Still, I wasn’t worried about someone recognizing me from the sketch. It was too rough for that. Besides, people never really looked at those things anyway or remembered them after the fact. Not in a city like Ashland where everyone could be a potential threat.
    Speaking of Caine, his was the next face to flicker onto the screen. He stood behind one of the Ashland Police Department’s senior captains, who was speaking into a microphone. More cops flanked the two men.
    “… and although she did not succeed in harming Mr. Giles initially, she is still wanted for his murder.”
    That was the captain speaking. Stephenson was his name, according to the ID on the screen. Wayne Stephenson. A giant with pale eyes and stubby, salt-and-pepper hair, whose once trim physique was going to fat. Perhaps it was the media spotlight, but Stephenson looked stressed. A greenish hue tinged his pasty skin, and he blotted a sheen of sweat off his forehead with a white handkerchief.
    A reporter waved her hand, shouting Donovan Caine’s name and trying to get him to answer a question. The detective scowled and opened his mouth to respond, but the captain stepped in front of Caine, blocking him from view.
    “Nice defensive maneuver,” Finn said.
    “Somebody doesn’t want Caine talking about what really happened.”
    Finn shook his head. “Honesty will get you killed in this city.”
    All the reporters