Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite
couple of blocks, then circle back around to the Cake Walk.”
“Want to tell me why?”
“You’ll see.”
Finn did as I asked, and five minutes later, he parked in the same spot he’d started from. Once I made sure Donovan Caine and his watchers were gone, I got out of the car and walked over to the trio of coeds the vampire had been chatting up. I dug into my jeans pocket and pulled out all the cash I had on me—three hundred bucks and change. Should be more than enough for what I had in mind.
I stopped in front of the girls and flashed the money at them. “Ladies, can I have a moment of your time? I’ll make it worth your while.”
The girls looked at each other, then at me.
“Sorry,” said one of them, a petite black woman in her early twenties. “We’re not hookers.”
“I’m not looking for a hooker,” I said. “That guy who was talking to you earlier. The vampire with the receding hairline. He gave you something. I’m thinking a business card?”
The second girl, a pretty brunette, snorted. “Yeah, he gave us his card. Said he was a talent scout and asked us if we’d ever done any modeling. Like we all haven’t heard that line before.”
The three women shared a harsh, knowing laugh. So young and already so jaded. I liked them.
I fanned the money at them. “Well, there’s a hundred here for each of you if you give me that card.”
The third woman, a chubby blonde, frowned. “Why would you want that creep’s number? We were going to toss it with our coffee cups.”
I gave her a wide smile. “I’m tailing the bastard for his wife. She thinks he’s cheating on her. Every little thing I can get him for is another nail in his coffin, and more alimony in her pocket. Want to help a sister out?”
The three women glanced at each other, then at the money in my hand.
The brunette shrugged, reached into her jeans pocket, and plucked out a crumpled slip of paper. “For three hundred bucks, it’s yours.”
I swapped my C-notes for the card and gave them another winning smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, ladies.”
I left the coeds to their mochas and jogged back to Finn.
“You looking for some girl-on-girl action or something?” Finn asked after I’d slipped into the passenger’s seat.
“Only in your dreams, Finn.”
I glanced at the wrinkled card in my hand. Charles Carlyle. A cell phone number squatted underneath the blocky script, but my eyes settled on the symbol printed on the card—a triangular shaped tooth with sawlike edges done in black ink. The mysterious Air elemental’s rune.
“So what was this little detour all about then?” Finn asked.
My thumb rubbed over the rune. “Putting a name with a face. Now, let’s get out of here, before Donovan Caine sends the po-po back this way.”
Finn dumped the SUV in the first parking garage we came to and liberated a similar one—another late-model Cadillac. He drove through the streets, circling around the downtown district twice before taking a swing through the suburbs to make sure we were clear of anyone who might have an unhealthy interest in us.
Since the Appalachian Mountains cut through most of Ashland, the surrounding suburbs were greener and cleaner than what you’d find in most metropolitan areas. The city planners worked hard to keep it that way, especially in Northtown. Trees and copses of dense woods crept into the landscape here and there, thieves staking their claims amid new subdivisions and cobblestone-fronted shopping malls. Ashland also had its share of industrial complexes, but careful plantings of maples and walnut trees hid the dilapidated buildings and acres of concrete from sight. Rows of pine trees and twisting, grassy knolls obscured the tall towers of the city’s paper mills. Irony at its finest.
I stared out the window. Everything looked so normal, so innocent in the burbs. Soccer moms hauling around vans full of unruly kids. People power-walking with their dogs. Shoppers ambling down the nicer streets, arms full of bags. A Fire elemental letting flames dance over his fingers and doing a few other magic tricks for spare change in one of the parks. An Ice elemental performing a similar show for kids at a playground a mile away.
I couldn’t help but imagine what this day might have been like, if I’d listened to Fletcher’s advice about retiring and quit the business six months ago. Or if I hadn’t let him talk me into doing the Gordon Giles’s hit. If we’d both had
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