Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

hard mouth, the vampire resembled some beautiful Valkyrie or goddess, angered beyond the point of all reason.
    Roslyn realized that everyone was watching her. But instead of being cowed into silence by the attention, thehate in her eyes blazed even brighter, a bonfire burning out of control.
    “Do your rich friends know what a bastard you are?” Roslyn screamed. “How you’ve been stalking me? How you’ve been coming to my club every single night and making me fix your stupid drinks and kiss you like a lover? Does your boss know what kind of sick fuck you are? How you made me come here tonight and pretend to be your fucking girlfriend even though I hate you, even though I
loathe
you?”
    A lot of bad things happened in Ashland on a daily basis. Robberies, beatings, murders. Still, shocked gasps rippled through the crowd at the vampire’s words. Every eye landed on Elliot Slater. The giant turned his head this way and that, feeling the heavy judgment of all in attendance, before his gaze snapped back to Roslyn.
    “Calm down, baby.”
    Slater’s voice was soft, but his eyes were cold, flat, hard. His right hand clenched and unclenched into a massive fist, and his knuckles cracked with the movement. The pale, chalky skin of his cheeks turned a mottled red with rage, and his thin mop of blond hair bristled with anger. Roslyn had just called Slater on his predilections in the most public and humiliating of ways. The bastard was seconds away from hitting her—or worse, snapping the vamp’s neck outright.
    I palmed one of my silverstone knives and got ready to move. He wasn’t going to touch her. Not as long as I still had a breath left in my body.
    The giant stretched out a hand to do something to Roslyn. Hit her, draw her closer. But Roslyn didn’t givehim a chance. Even as he reached for her, the vampire picked up her long skirt, turned, and ran away as fast as she could. Her heels clattered against the deck and then the gangplank, the echo growing fainter with every step.
    Slater stood on the deck, momentarily stunned. Then, he shook his head and started after the vamp. I shifted my weight forward, ready to follow him—
    “Elliot.”
    That single, breathy word was enough to stop Slater and make him jerk back like a dog on a leash. The crowd parted, and Mab Monroe stepped forward. The
swish-swish
of her black silk dress sounded as loud as a vacuum cleaner in the absolute silence. The Fire elemental stopped at the giant’s shoulder and patted his arm. Mab’s black eyes seemed to suck in all the available light as she studied her number-one enforcer.
    “Let her go, Elliot,” Mab said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know how troubled poor Roslyn is. All those pills she’s on for her mood swings and depression. I’m sure she’ll come to her senses. When she does, she’ll be quite embarrassed about those horrible things she just said. I’m sure she’ll offer you a very sincere, very
public
apology.”
    At this point, Mab was speaking to the crowd as a whole, rather than to the giant. The Fire elemental was letting everyone know that Roslyn Phillips was persona non grata, as Finn would say. As for all the talk about Roslyn being troubled, I imagined Mab would trot out those same tired lines when the vampire’s body was pulled out of whatever dark hole Slater was planning to plant her in.
    Because that’s what the giant had in mind. Whatever twisted obsession or feeling he’d had for Roslyn was gone, burned away by her bitter truths. Now, only hate filled Slater’s face. Pure, simple, murderous hate.
    Mab looked at Phillip Kincaid first, since the riverboat was his gin joint, giving him the courtesy of at least pretending to defer to him on his home turf. After a moment, the handsome casino owner nodded at her, accepting her statement, even though he knew it was all so much bullshit, just like everyone else did. But there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it.
    The Fire elemental stared at one person after another, daring anyone to challenge her phony words. After a few seconds, all but the bravest souls dropped their eyes from Mab’s and went back to whatever they’d been doing before. Talking, drinking, gambling. Slowly, the noise level returned to normal. Mab pulled Slater toward the back of the deck, where Jonah McAllister stood. The three of them put their heads together and started talking to each other once more.
    I waited, but Slater made no move toward the