Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

hear her. “This is how it has to be. I want him dead. Tonight. I can… do it. I can… handle it one more night, one more time.”
    She bit her lip and nodded her head, as if trying to convince herself that she really could calmly go out with the man who’d been stalking her and using her as his own little toy. But Roslyn knew that playing her part was the only way this was going to work—no matter how distasteful it was going to be.
    “And what will you be doing, Gin?” Roslyn asked.
    I stared at her, my gray eyes as cold as ice. “Hopefully, stabbing the bastard to death before you down your first glass of bubbly.”

14

    Just after eight that night, I opened the door, climbed out of the Aston Martin, and smoothed down my dress. I walked around the front of the silver sports car and waited for Finn to lock his precious baby up tight.
    Then, when Finn joined me, I put my hand on my hip and struck a pose. “How do I look?”
    Finn gave me the once-over. “Nice. Not at all like you plan to commit murder before the night is through.”
    Since I was going to spend the evening hobnobbing with Ashland’s wealthiest citizens, I’d decided to dress up for the occasion. I’d traded in my usual jeans and T-shirt for a simple cocktail dress with a loose, flowing skirt. The garment was made of a heavy, shiny satin that was such a deep blue that it looked black. All the better to hide bloodstains.
    Even more important, the dress also featured long sleeves to hide the two silverstone knives I’d tucked upthem, and the poofy skirt fell to my knees, hiding the other two knives that I’d strapped to my thighs. Still two more knives rested in the sides of my stiletto boots, and I had another one tucked into my purse. Seven knives was probably overkill, but I wanted to be prepared when I went after Elliot Slater. It just wouldn’t do to have the giant in my sights and be unable to finish him off for a lack of adequate weaponry. I might officially be retired from being the assassin the Spider, but that didn’t mean I still wasn’t a pro.
    In an effort to blend in with all the pretty young things and trophy wives sure to be in attendance, I’d gone heavy on the makeup—smoky eyes, deep plum lips, lots of mascara. I’d even freed my shoulder-length hair from its typical ponytail for the evening’s festivities. Jo-Jo Deveraux had been all too happy to curl my dark chocolate locks into wavy ringlets. The dwarf always liked it when I played dress-up.
    Jo-Jo had also been kind enough to slip me some tubs of her magic-infused healing ointment, just in case Elliot Slater got a couple of licks in before his swan song tonight.
    “And me?” Finn asked. “How do I look?”
    Finn wore what he always wore to a society function—a classic tuxedo, small diamond cufflinks, and polished wingtips that had a higher luster than some of the jewels the debutantes would be wearing tonight. The black fabric accentuated the bright green of his eyes, while his walnut-colored locks curled around his collar in an artful arrangement that looked both deliberate and effortless. Finn had spent more time on his hair than Jo-Jo had on mine.
    “Ever the gentleman,” I replied. “Not at all like you plan to assist me in committing said murder tonight.”
    Finn grinned and held his arm out to me. “Ready for an evening of murder and mayhem?”
    I grinned back. “Always.”
    Arm in arm, Finn and I left the parking lot and strolled toward the
Delta Queen.
    The riverboat was docked in the middle of the downtown district, where the Aneirin River curled like a ribbon past the city’s skyscrapers and cultural buildings like the Ashland Opera House. Several years ago when the riverboat casino had first come to town, the city planners had constructed a wooden boardwalk lit with old-fashioned iron street lamps. Despite its proximity to the mean streets of Southtown, the gentrification had stuck, mainly because the casino had its own ever-vigilant security staff who kept an eye out for the riffraff who might mug their customers before they could get on board and blow their money in high style.
    No gang runes or graffiti could be seen on the boardwalk itself, and several artsy shops and restaurants had sprung up opposite the river on the far side of the weathered wooden planks—overpriced antiques stores and cafés determined to suck as much money as they could out of passersby before they boarded the casino and lost that week’s paycheck. Ah,