Elemental Assassin 01 - Spider's Bite

detective dropped his eyes.
    We reached the front door. A small plaque with a rune etched into it was embedded in the stone to the right. A heart with an arrow through it. Roslyn’s symbol for her nightclub, Northern Aggression. Finn rang the doorbell. Cheery chimes echoed through the house.
    After about twenty seconds, a shadow moved in front of the peephole. Somebody inside was studying us. Several locks clicked, and the door opened.
    Roslyn Phillips was a beautiful woman, with eyes and skin the color of melted toffee. Her cropped, feathered black hair just brushed the edge of her strong jaw. Silver-frame glasses perched on the end of her pointed nose, and her face was free of the heavy makeup I’d always seen her wear. She looked younger without it, softer, and more vulnerable than I knew her to be.
    A pair of black yoga pants covered her legs, while a matching shirt stretched over her chest. But the innocuous ensemble couldn’t hide Roslyn’s stack of full breasts, lush hips, and toned thighs that had most men wiping the drool off their chins after a few seconds. And Roslyn knew how to use her body to its full potential. She was one of the vamps who used sex to power up, along with drinking blood.
    Roslyn’s lips drew back into a wide smile, revealing her fangs. They were as pale as bleach. “Finnegan Lane. What a nice surprise.” Her voice was a low, husky whisper.
    “Roslyn, darling. So good of you to see me on such short notice.” Finn leaned down and pressed a kiss to Roslyn’s smooth cheek.
    “Always a pleasure, Finn,” Roslyn murmured. Her dark eyes drifted to the detective before resting on me. “And you’ve brought friends with you.”
    “The gent is Donovan Caine,” Finn said. “And you know Gin, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    Roslyn stared at me, and I met her dark gaze with a neutral one of my own. I hadn’t been there when she’d approached Finn about finding someone to kill her brother-in-law, since Finn was known as a man who could get all kinds of things done. But she’d seen me with Finn, knew I’d been chummy with Fletcher and worked at the Pork Pit. Finn had never told Roslyn he’d find someone to do the job, had never even admitted he knew anyone who would do that sort of thing. But three weeks after Roslyn had asked, her abusive brother-in-law had been found stabbed to death outside a Southtown strip club. I was sure the vampire had drawn her own conclusions—about a lot of things.
    “Come in,” Roslyn said. “We were just finishing up lunch.”
    She ushered us inside, then closed and locked the door behind us—with all three deadbolts. Roslyn Phillips didn’t take chances with her safety. Smart woman.
    Roslyn crooked her finger and led us through several rooms filled with heavy, wooden tables, Tiffany lamps, and old-fashioned settees lined with velvet. The antique furniture was in sharp contrast to the toys, books, and other childish doodads stacked on the tables, piled in the corners, and spread over the settees. Around me, the stone of the house alternated between low worry and carefree glee, given the varying emotions of its occupants.
    We stepped onto a stone patio that overlooked a heart-shaped pool that had been covered up for the winter. A little girl who bore a striking resemblance to Roslyn sat in a princess-themed, pink castle planted in the backyard and pushed a blue dump truck through the grass. Every once in a while, she’d quit making vroom-vroom sounds long enough to nibble on the tomato sandwich clutched in her tiny fist.
    Roslyn gestured at a table surrounded by wicker chairs with thick, flowered cushions. The remains of a Cobb salad littered a plate on the table, along with a frosted mug half-full of blood, a cup of chocolate milk, a pitcher of lemonade, and several glasses.
    Finn sat in the chair opposite Roslyn’s. Donovan Caine dropped into the seat beside him, while I took the last chair. I pulled it out from the table and angled it so I could see the little girl.
    Roslyn held up the pitcher. Ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass. “Lemonade?”
    Seems I wasn’t the only gracious hostess around. We all accepted, and Roslyn dispensed the cold drink. I sipped the liquid. Tart and sweet at the same time, just the way I liked it. Mmm.
    Roslyn fixed her eyes on Finn. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Finn? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until later this week at the benefit for the battered-women’s