Elemental Assassin 05 - Spider's Revenge

fact that I’d used my Stone magic to shield my body, Don had still gotten in a few good licks on me, and I could taste my own coppery blood in my mouth, as well as what felt like a broken rib scraping against my lung.
    Jenkins looked back, realized that I was following him, and picked up his pace, crossing the icy street like a speed skater and disappearing into an alley on the other side. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to push the pain away and move faster, run harder. I entered the alley to find that Jenkins had gained ground on me, since the thief was already halfway down the narrow corridor, which was largely clear and free of snow. He looked back again, his eyes wide with terror.
    Instead of taking advantage of his natural speed, Jenkins reached out and grabbed one of the trash cans that lined the alley. He slapped the lid off it and turned it over. All sorts of refuse spilled out of the can, and several bottles tink-tink-tinked my way. One by one, he dumped the cans over, putting all sorts of disgusting things between us. Greasy fast-food wrappers, crushed cigarettes, used condoms. The sour stench alone made me gag, but Ichurned through the garbage, my boots smashing everything that was underfoot.
    Jenkins thought he was doing the smart thing, but his tactics cost him precious time and slowed him down as well, when he would have been much better off just hot-footing it away from me as fast as his matchstick-thin legs would carry him. Still, he might have made it even tipping the cans over, if he’d been a little quicker or I’d been a little less determined.
    Or if I didn’t have my Ice magic.
    We reached a spot in the alley where it was a straight shot for about a hundred feet with no garbage cans in sight. Up ahead, a light burned at the end of the corridor, indicating another street and possible escape for Jenkins. I was determined that the bastard wasn’t going to make it that far, not after he’d sold out Bria. But by this point, the pain in my ribs had intensified until it felt like I was stabbing myself in the chest with my own knives, and I could feel myself slowing with every step.
    Good thing I didn’t have to catch Jenkins—only stop him.
    I dropped to one knee, put my hands on the blacktop, and reached for my Ice power. A cold, silver light flickered underneath my palms, centered on the spider rune scars there. Snowflake-shaped Ice crystals spread out from my hands, zipping down the alley floor, coating the already frigid concrete faster than I could ever think about moving—and much, much faster than Lincoln Jenkins could ever dream of running.
    The frosty, silvery crystals caught up with the petty thief ten feet from the end of the alley. Jenkins hadn’tnoticed the elemental Ice creeping up on him, and his sneakers squeaked, then slid on the slick sheet. His arms windmilled as he tried to stay upright. Didn’t work, never did. A second later, his back smacked onto the cold pavement. His puffy jacket deflated like a popped balloon, and he let out a low groan. I smiled, my expression even colder than the Ice I’d just created.
    Still, I approached Jenkins cautiously, just the way that Fletcher had taught me. Just because someone might be down didn’t mean that he was out—a trick I’d pulled more than once.
    But Jenkins wasn’t all that clever, and he must have hit the concrete harder than I’d thought, because he was still moaning when I reached him. I crouched down on my knees and straddled him, putting just enough pressure on his ribs to make it difficult for him to breathe. The thief’s eyes widened at the bloody silverstone knife in my hand, and panic tightened his pasty skin. He tried to grab my hand in his, but I slapped his cold, grasping fingers away and shoved the blade up against his scrawny neck.
    “Be very, very still, and you just might make it out of this alley alive,” I snarled.
    It was a lie, but I needed something to break through Jenkins’s fear—I needed something to get him to talk, other than the threat of his own imminent demise. My harsh words worked because he nodded his head in a frantic motion, as eager as a puppy to please me. I eased up a little on his ribs, although I kept my knife against his neck, ready to slash open his throat if he so much as twitched wrong. Even lowlifes like Jenkins could get in a lucky shot, and not taking that into account was how people got dead.
    “Now,” I said in a pleasant tone. “You and I are going to have