Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

progress.
    The
Delta Queen
featured six decks, each one more lavish and opulent than the last. Even from this distance, I could see the gleam of polished wood, heavy brass, and delicate crystal through the wide windows that lined the upper levels. Tasteful bits of red and blue trim glistenedin various spots on the riverboat’s white exterior finish, marking it as an all-American place to lose your life savings. Globe-shaped lights wrapped around the mahogany and brass railings and dipped from one deck to the next like the strings of an electrified cobweb. The third story formed an open U shape that jutted out past the other decks and formed the bow of the boat. Meanwhile, a giant paddlewheel that rose all the way up to the sixth deck anchored the back of the vessel.
    I stared at the paddlewheel. Hmm. That had possibilities. Like me shoving Elliot Slater through it. But the riverboat wasn’t scheduled to leave the dock tonight. Even if a cruise had been planned, the boards were too wide to do the necessary amount of damage to the giant, and I doubted the fall alone would kill him. He’d probably scream a lot on the way down, though.
    Too bad. I’d never killed anyone with a paddlewheel before. I might not officially be the Spider anymore, but I was always on the lookout for new experiences—and new skills to add to my deadly repertoire. Elliot Slater was going to die tonight, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a bit of fun helping him quit breathing.
    Thanks to his position at his bank and the fact that so many of his wealthy clients would be in attendance tonight, Finn had been invited to the party. I was tagging along as his plus-one. Finn handed his engraved invitation to the man checking names on the shoreline, who ushered us on board with little fanfare.
    “Hmph,” Finn sniffed, sounding exactly like Sophia Deveraux. “He didn’t even tell me to enjoy myself this evening.”
    I patted Finn’s arm. “That’s because you’re not one of the important people who are coming tonight. He’s saving his fawning for them.”
    Finn sniffed his displeasure again.
    As the two of us walked up the gangplank to the riverboat itself, I glanced over the railing. Below, the murky waters of the Aneirin River washed by, heading toward the far-away Mississippi River and ultimately the Gulf of Mexico. Oil slicks shimmered royal blue, purple, and green on the water’s surface, and all the soft, artful lights on the riverboat couldn’t hide the odd bits of wood, soggy fast-food wrappers, and other flotsam that clogged the shoreline. Or the stench.
    I wrinkled my nose. The air reeked of rotten catfish. Ugh. The scent reminded me of the last time I’d been this close to the river—when I’d taken a nosedive off the top of the Ashland Opera House to escape the cops after a botched hit. It had taken me several hot showers to get the stench of rotting fish out of my hair.
    Finn and I reached the top of the gangplank and found ourselves on the third, open deck, the epicenter of the event. The deck itself was larger than two ballrooms put together. Blackjack, baccarat, poker, and other gaming tables had been set up out in the open. The
slap-slap-slap
of cards being shuffled could be heard, along with the
clink-clink
of chips hitting each other on the felt tables and the whirring
clack-clack-clack
of the slot machines. Heaters tucked against the railing and under some of the tables kept the December chill at bay, helped immensely by the inflated egos of those already on board.
    People dressed in tuxedoes, gowns, and flashing jewelswere already waiting their turn to lose their money—all of which was supposedly going to charity tonight. I rather doubted that, since Phillip Kincaid was one of the riverboat casino’s primary owners.
    Kincaid was another of Ashland’s underworld sharks, just like Mab Monroe was, with his own network of enforcers and heavy hitters. He was already on deck, a six-foot-tall man with a chest that looked as dense as concrete beneath his white tuxedo. His sandy blond hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, all the better to show off his chiseled cheekbones and striking blue eyes. I’d never had any dealings with Kincaid, but rumor had it that his father had been a dwarf, his mother a giant. Hence his solid physique. I didn’t know where he’d gotten the pretty face from, though. Didn’t much matter. I put Kincaid out of my mind, since he wasn’t my target tonight.
    According to Finn’s