Elemental Assassin 05 - Spider's Revenge

symbol for patience. Something that I was getting real short on these days.
    I sighed and turned around. Sure enough, two guys stood in the alley that ran behind the restaurant. One was a giant, judging by his seven-foot frame, while the other was human and an elemental. A ball of Fire flickered in the palm of his hand, gently bobbing up and down.
    Ding, ding, Gin Blanco wins again.
    “Let me guess,” I drawled. “You’re here to take out the notorious Spider.”
    The giant started to speak, but I held up my hand, cutting him off.
    “I really don’t care to listen to your blustering manifesto about what badasses the two of you are and how you’re going to make me beg for mercy by the time you’re done with me,” I said. “I just want to say this—do yourselves a favor. Walk away now, and I won’t kill you.”
    “Did you hear that, Billy?” the Fire elemental cackled. “The Spider’s going to go soft on us tonight.”
    Billy, the giant, cracked his knuckles together, a grin splitting his face. “She doesn’t look so tough to me, Bobby.”
    I rolled my eyes. People might not know for sure that I was the Spider, but you’d think that enough folks had disappeared in and around the Pork Pit by now for everyone else to realize that it might be a good idea to steer clear of me and my restaurant.
    “Let’s get her, Billy!” Bobby screamed.
    The giant let out a loud whoop of agreement.
    Apparently not.
    They rushed me at the same time, and Bobby threw his elemental Fire at me. He was strong in his magic but compared to the blazing inferno that I’d faced when I’d killed Mab, his power felt as weak as a candle flame. Still, I ducked out of the way. I had no desire to have my hair singed off again this week.
    I rolled to my left, came up on one knee, and grabbed the lid of one of the metal trash cans in the alley. I held the lid up over my head just in time for Billy to plant his massive fist in it. The sharp, ringing force of the giant’s blow rocked me back for a moment. Billy drew his fist back again, and I lashed out with my foot, driving my boot into his knee. Billy grunted and stumbled forward, one hand going to the alley floor, putting him down on my level.
    I looked him in the eyes, smiled, and smashed the metal lid into his face as hard as I could.
    It took several blows, but eventually blood started to pour out of Billy’s broken, bulbous nose and the deep, jagged cuts I opened up on his face. I hit him againwith the trash-can lid, driving the metal into his square chin, and the giant toppled over onto his back. His head cracked against the alley floor, and he let out a low groan. Down for the count already.
    Bobby looked stunned, just stunned, that I’d taken out his friend so easily. But his expression quickly changed to one of concern when I got to my feet and started walking toward him, holding the metal lid out in front of me like a shield. Bobby backpedaled, but he forgot to look behind him. He’d taken only two steps before he was pressed up against the side of one of the Dumpsters. Frantic, he snapped his fingers together over and over again, trying to summon up another ball of elemental Fire.
    I didn’t give him the chance.
    Two seconds later, I slammed the metal lid into his face. I had only to hit him once before he crumpled to the ground.
    When I was sure that neither man was going to get up anytime soon, I put the lid back on the trash can. The bloody dents in it matched the ones on all the other cans. More than one moron had jumped me in the alley this week. I eyed the two men, who were moaning and groaning and trying to figure out how things had gone wrong so quickly.
    “Idiots,” I muttered, and went back inside the restaurant.
    A mirror with a cracked corner was mounted over one of the sinks in the back. I stopped there and washed the blood and grime of the fight off my hands. My hair had come loose while I’d been hitting the giant with the trash-can lid,so I yanked the elastic band out of my hair and shoved my dark chocolate brown locks back into a tighter ponytail.
    The clink-clink and clatter-clatter of silverware and dishes drifted through the swinging doors, along with the savory smells and sizzles of grilled burgers and fried onion rings. All of the waitstaff had already gone home for the evening, so I was alone in this part of the restaurant. Instead of going out into the storefront and getting back to work, I put my hands on the sink and leaned forward,