24
I headed for the canyon, running as fast as I dared through the dark woods.
Off to my right, the Snow family mansion continued to burn, but the flames were slowly weakening and taking their precious orange-red light along with them. Soon I wouldn’t be able to see anything up ahead. With what little light there was I still kept tripping over rocks and tree roots, and my bare feet were a bruised, bloody mess that throbbed with every step.
Another rock stabbed into my big toe, making me hiss with pain and finally forcing me to slow down to a quick walk. I glanced back over my shoulder, but I didn’t see the giant behind me, not even the yellow beam of his flashlight sweeping through the trees. I took another step forward and put my foot down.
But there was nothing there to hold me up.
My head snapped around, and I spotted the dark, gaping chasm in front of me. At the last second, I managed to windmill my arms and lurch back away from the edge. My heart pounded, and cold sweat slid down my spine, as I realized how very close I’d come to falling to my death.
I carefully tiptoed forward and peered down into the canyon. But the distant firelight couldn’t penetrate the ink-black shadows down there, and all I could make out were the vague, murky shapes of the stones below.
I thought back, trying to remember what the canyon looked like in the daylight. Wide and deep, with slick, jagged pieces of moss-covered rocks running down the sides and lining the bottom like spikes. But would the fall and the rocks be enough to kill the giant? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know—
Crack.
A branch snapped behind me. I whirled around, my eyes wide, my breath caught in my throat.
Crack.
Another branch snapped, followed by a muttered curse, and a bright beam of light sliced through the trees, quickly heading in this direction. The giant must be following the trail I’d left.
I whirled back around and stared down into the canyon again. Sure, I’d almost stepped off the edge, but I hadn’t been watching where I was going. So how could I trick the giant into doing the same? Especially when he had a flashlight?
Think, Gin, think! I silently shouted at myself again, shifting back and forth on my feet, my fingers twisting in the ruined, tattered fabric of my nightgown—
My hands stilled, and I looked down. Despite the eerie gloom, I could still see my nightgown, since the fabric was so much lighter than everything else in the woods. What color was it? White? Blue? I couldn’t even remember. But if I could see it, so could the giant, and maybe, just maybe, it could help me trick him.
I reached down, grabbed the bottom of my nightgown, and ripped a long, thin strip off it. At least, I tried to. The fabric didn’t want to give, and fresh pain flared up in my burned hands, but I kept on tugging at it. Tears streamed down my face, and I had to grind my teeth to keep from screaming, but eventually, I managed to rip a piece off the bottom of the gown.
Crack-crack. Crack-crack.
Behind me, I could hear the giant getting closer and closer. There was no time to be picky, so I hooked the fabric on a bush that was right by the canyon’s edge, arranging it so that it looked like I was hiding behind the thick branches. Then I moved away from the steep drop, darted around a tree, and hunkered down in the blackest shadows I could find.
I’d just settled into place when the giant charged into view. He swept his flashlight back and forth, and the yellow beam caught the piece of fabric that I’d hooked to the bush. The giant spotted it immediately.
“There you are!” he growled.
He charged forward, right by my hiding spot, and leaned down, as though he was going to snatch up that piece of fabric and me right along with it.
He never had a chance.
“What— Ahh!”
The giant ran right off the edge of the canyon, almost like a cartoon character would, and he screamed all the way down. A few seconds later, another sickening crack sounded, louder than all the ones before. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, waiting, but the giant didn’t make another sound, not so much as a whimper, and I knew that he was dead, his bones broken by the fall and the rocks below.
But there were still other people in the woods.
Before I could even think about moving, more shouts rang out, and people crashed through the underbrush, heading in this direction. I hunkered down even lower, scooping leaves and dirt up over my nightgown to hide its pale color and making myself as small and invisible as possible.
Less than a minute later, another flashlight appeared, bobbing up and down through the trees, and a man stepped out of the shadows—Hugh, the vampire.
Unlike the giant, he was careful as he moved forward, slowly sweeping his flashlight back and forth across the ground. He too noticed the fabric strip hooked to the bush, but he realized that there was a steep drop beyond it, and he walked right up to the edge and stopped, shining his light down into the canyon below. After several seconds, Hugh crouched down and plucked the fabric off the bush, examining it with his light. His mouth puckered in thought, but he didn’t move or mutter anything to himself.
He wasn’t alone.
More faint crack-cracks rang out, and another person moved through the woods in this direction—the Fire elemental. Through the trees, I could see the orange-red glow of her magic flickering all around her hand, since she was using her power as her own personal flashlight.
“Hugh?” she called out, heading this way. “What’s going on?”
The vampire got to his feet, tucked the fabric strip into his pocket, and stepped away from the canyon. He moved forward, meeting the Fire elemental halfway, about thirty feet from where I was still hiding. I squinted, but I couldn’t make out her features, just the burning glow still flickering on her hand.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“What do you think happened?” Hugh snapped. “Your idiot bodyguard stepped right off the side of a cliff. He’s lying at the bottom, squashed like a bug.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?” She started to walk past him.
Hugh stepped to the side, blocking her. “I’m sure. You’ve already lost one man out here. Call the others back, and let’s leave. I’m tired of tromping through the woods in the middle of the night. Trust me. There’s no one out here but us. I would have seen them.”
The Fire elemental huffed, not liking to be told what to do, but she set off in the opposite direction, heading back toward the mansion. I thought that the vampire would follow her, but instead he turned around, scanning the woods, his eyes narrowing to slits and his nose twitching, almost as if he were sniffing the air like a dog. I remembered what my mom had told me about vampires, about how the blood they drank gave them enhanced senses. He might be able to see me after all, maybe even smell me too, even here in the deep, dark woods. I held my breath, not daring to move a single muscle . . .
And that’s when I felt the spider crawl onto my hand.
Startled, I looked down. I didn’t know what kind of spider it was, but it was a big, black blob on my hand, moving slowly, feeling along my skin with its hairy, prickly legs, carefully exploring this strange new territory. It must have been building a web or maybe even had a nest in the leaves that I’d disturbed.
As much as I wanted to scream and fling it away, I ground my teeth again and let it crawl around, hoping that it wasn’t poisonous and that it wouldn’t bite me. After what seemed like forever, the spider walked down my hand, crawled out to the tip of my index finger, and slid back down onto the leaves. I snatched my hand off the ground and cradled it against my chest. I looked up, wondering if I was alone yet—
The vampire was staring straight at me.
I froze again, my heart hammering up into my throat. Our eyes locked across the distance. No doubt about it. He’d seen me. Any second now, he would shout that he’d found me, and I’d have to run away again, run, run, run for my life—
“Hugh!” the Fire elemental snapped, her silky voice echoing through the trees. “It was your idea to leave, so let’s go already!”
Instead of moving, he kept staring at me. I looked back at him, the two of us locked in a silent staring contest.
“Hugh!” she snapped again.
He looked at me a moment longer, then did the strangest thing. He pulled something out of his pants pocket and dropped it onto the ground. A second later, he turned and walked off into the woods.
I stayed frozen in place, still holding my breath, not daring to move a single muscle, thinking that it was some kind of trick. It had to be a trick, right? He wasn’t just going to leave and pretend he hadn’t seen me . . . was he? Why would he do that? Especially when the Fire elemental wanted to kill me just like she had the rest of my family?
But the seconds ticked by, and no one jumped out of the shadows at me. Not the vampire, not the Fire elemental, no one. But I still thought that it was a trick, so I started counting off the seconds in my head, waiting them out.
Five minutes passed. At least, that’s how long I thought it was, although I had no real way of knowing. Still, no one approached me, and the woods remained utterly, eerily quiet. So I finally felt safe enough to leave my hiding spot, creep forward, and see what the vampire had dropped.
A hundred-dollar bill.
Not just one but a whole stack of them all rolled up together.
I frowned. The vampire had seen me. I knew that he had. So why hadn’t he told the Fire elemental? And why leave this money behind? Was he . . . trying to help me? Why would he do that?
I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to pass it up. I snatched the money off the ground. Then I got to my feet and headed back toward the dwindling bonfire of the mansion. My plan was the same as before. As soon as I was sure that everyone was gone, I’d walk down to the road and start heading toward the city. After I got to Ashland, well, I didn’t know where I would go or what I would do, but one thing was for sure. I couldn’t stay here any longer.
So I put my head down and started walking. I made it back to the mansion with no problems. The Fire elemental and her men were gone, along with Hugh, whoever he really was.
I let out a sigh of relief, stepped out of the woods, and headed for the road, forcing myself to keep moving forward instead of looking back at the ruins of my entire world. But I couldn’t escape it. Not with the ash still fluttering through the air like snow and the acrid stench of smoke coating everything, including me . . .
The stench woke me up. It was a harsh chemical odor but strangely comforting in a way, as though I’d sensed this same scent a hundred times before and associated it with a specific place. Someplace warm and inviting. Someplace safe. I drew in another breath, trying to figure out why it seemed so familiar. It almost smelled like some sort of . . . hair dye.
I relaxed. Owen and the others must have come back for me at the Rivera mansion. They must have fought their way through all those guards and pulled me out of there. I opened my eyes, fully expecting to see the warm, cozy confines of Jo-Jo’s beauty salon.
But what I woke up to was another nightmare.
I was tied to a chair, my wrists and ankles lashed so tightly to the wood that I couldn’t move them at all, no matter how hard I tried. And I definitely tried, straining and straining with all my might. I only stopped when the ropes started digging painfully into my skin, causing ugly burns, and I realized that I couldn’t escape them. At least, not this way.
I was still wearing my black assassin clothes, along with my boots, but all of my knives were gone—the two up my sleeves, the two tucked into the sides of my boots, and the one in the small of my back. So I looked around, searching for my weapons.
I was in another cottage, although it wasn’t Bruce Porter’s caretaker cottage, since the stone floor here was still intact. I was sitting in the middle of a large den, halfway between a stone fireplace and a dark green leather couch. Several pieces of kindling were arranged in the fireplace, ready to be lit, with other, thicker logs stacked neatly in a nearby basket.
I glanced around the rest of the den. Brightly colored throw rugs, end tables, a bookcase bristling with paperbacks. The furniture was nice enough, although it had obviously been here for a while, given how well worn and old-fashioned it looked.
At first glance, everything seemed normal. Except for, you know, me being tied to a chair. Sadly, this wasn’t my first time at that particular rodeo, so I moved on. I turned my head, scanning the kitchen area in the back of the cottage, still looking for my knives.
And that’s when things started to get really, really weird.
A romantic table for two was set up in the middle of the kitchen. White tablecloth, two lit candles, a crystal vase full of red roses, fine china, a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. Someone had really gone all out.
I drew in a deep breath. In addition to the hair dye, I got a faint whiff of the food that had already been dished out on the two plates on the table. Lemon-pepper chicken, if I had to guess, along with honey-glazed carrots and mashed potatoes. A simple, elegant meal.
Still, the longer I stared at the table with its picture-perfect spread, the more my stomach roiled. It reminded me of the romantic dinner that Owen had surprised me with a couple of days ago. But there was no romance here—only death.
I listened, but I didn’t hear anything but the faint whistle of the wind swirling around the house. And the stones, of course. They shrieked with the exact same notes of blood, violence, pain, and death that the caretaker cottage had, telling me that I was sitting smack dab in the middle of the Dollmaker’s lair. This was where he’d brought all the other women he’d kidnapped, and this was where he’d killed them all, when they didn’t live up to the twisted fantasy that he’d so carefully crafted.
I wondered how it went exactly. If he complimented them on how pretty they were. If he expected them to make polite chitchat. If he force-fed them dinner while they were still tied up. If he flew into a rage when they stared at him with fear and horror. If he finally started beating them when he realized that the fault was with himself instead of them.
I didn’t want to stick around to find out.
White lace curtains covered the windows, so I couldn’t tell where I was, although it was dark outside. Given the lack of noise, the cottage was probably isolated, which meant that I needed to get out of here before Rivera came back. So I started struggling against my ropes again, harder than before. And just like before, I got absolutely nowhere.
Something moved out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my head, noticing another piece of furniture, a full-length mirror propped up in the corner by the fireplace.
For a moment, I didn’t understand exactly what I was seeing in the mirror. Who was that strange-looking woman in the glass?
But then I realized that it was me.
That harsh chemical stench? It was hair dye, all right, just like I’d thought. And now I realized why the scent was so strong. It had been used on me.
Instead of its normal dark brown, my hair was now a bright, shiny, platinum blond that had been curled into loose waves that rested against my shoulders. He’d even taken the time to do my roots, so that I looked like a natural blonde. I didn’t know whether to admire his effort or be disgusted by how far he would go to make me resemble his dream woman.
Yeah, disgust won out.
But the worst part was the fact that my face had been carefully made up—and my lips were painted a bright, glossy, familiar color.
Heartbreaker red.
• • •
I blinked and blinked, staring at myself in the mirror as if I could somehow change my own horrible reflection. My stomach roiled again, and hot, sour bile rose in my throat. Of all the things that I’d been subjected to over the years, all the beatings, all the fights, all the deadly duels, this was one of the worst things that I’d ever experienced.
I felt violated in a way that I never had before.
I wasn’t Gin Blanco right now. I wasn’t the assassin the Spider. I wasn’t even a person anymore. I was a canvas, a doll, a plaything, primped and painted to Damian Rivera’s exact specifications.
Bile rose in my throat again, but I swallowed it down, along with the primal scream of rage that went with it. I might have rescued Elissa, but it was obvious that Rivera was determined to make me his next victim. And since he’d already transformed me into his perfect woman, it didn’t seem like he was going to keep me around for nearly as long as he had kept the others. That was me, Gin Blanco, classic overachiever, always on the fast track to death.
I had to get out of here before he came back. Since I couldn’t break through the ropes myself, I looked around the cottage again, but my knives weren’t in here, and I didn’t see anything else that I could use to saw through my thick, heavy bonds. Even if I could have scooted myself all the way around the couch and over to the kitchen table, the china there looked far too old and delicate to be of any use. It would probably crumble to dust if I broke it.
Well, if I couldn’t slice through the ropes, then I’d just break the damn chair and get out of my bonds that way. So I started swaying back and forth, trying to judge exactly how sturdy the chair was. The wood was thick, but it creak-creak-creaked with every move I made, telling me that it would break if I put enough force into it. Now, how to do that? I could either use my Ice magic to freeze and crack the wood, or I could try to lurch to my feet, stagger over to the fireplace, and dash the side of the chair against the stone.
I decided on the second option, not wanting to waste my magic on something as simple as getting out of a chair. I had far better plans for my power tonight.
I’d used up some of my magic taking out the guards at the mansion, but Rivera had foolishly left my spider rune ring on my finger, and my matching pendant still hung from my neck, glimmering against the black fabric of my vest. He wasn’t an elemental, so he hadn’t sensed the reserves of Ice and Stone power rippling through the silverstone jewelry.
That mistake was going to cost him dearly. I was going to use every single drop of magic that I had left to kill him dead, dead, dead.
But first, I had to get out of the chair, so I drew in a breath and tensed my muscles, getting ready to surge to my feet—
A beam of light flashed across one of the windows. My head snapped in that direction, and I looked at the window, wondering if I’d imagined the light. But I hadn’t. A second later, another beam of light appeared, and several sets of heavy footsteps thump-thump-thumped on what seemed to be an old, creaky wooden porch attached to the front of the cottage.
The footsteps whipped back and forth, back and forth, from one side of the porch to the other, almost as if someone outside was pacing out his anger, anxiety, and frustration.
“. . . bitch killed all my men . . .”
“. . . can’t believe you captured her . . .”
“ . . . giving her exactly what she deserves . . .”
Muffled voices sounded outside, drowned out by the whistling winter wind. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I recognized one of the voices as belonging to Rivera. Of course he was outside. He’d spent far too much time and effort turning me into his pretty little plaything not to want to finish acting out his delusional fantasy.
The voices stopped, the knob turned on the front door, and Rivera stepped into the cottage. He was still wearing the same expensive suit he’d had on before, and he looked as handsome as ever, right down to the stubble that darkened his jaw.
He studied me from head to toe, his black eyebrows arching in his face, as if what he saw surprised him. After a few seconds, he pulled a small silver flask out of his jacket pocket, unscrewed the top, and took a long, healthy swig of the contents. I could smell the caustic burn of alcohol all the way across the room, even stronger than the hair dye.
“Well,” he slurred. “I see that you’ve been busy. You’ve only had her, what, three hours? And you’ve already got her all dolled up just the way you like ’em. That’s quick work. Even for you.”
I frowned, wondering who he was talking to. The things he was saying made it almost sound like . . . like he hadn’t done this to me. Like he wasn’t the one who’d dyed my hair, painted my face, and tied me down.
I thought back over everything that had happened over the past few days and all the clues that had pointed to Rivera—the lipstick, the men he’d sent to Jade’s house, the threats that Tucker had made against him about dealing with his mysterious problem. And I realized that while those clues pointed to Rivera, they also led to another person. Someone else who also had access to all of those things.
All along, I’d thought that this whole thing was like two separate but connected jigsaw puzzles that I’d been trying to work at the same time. Well, all of the pieces had just snapped into place on one of them, and my heart dropped as I realized just how wrong I’d been about the Dollmaker.
Rivera turned toward the open door. “Aren’t you going to come in and admire your handiwork?”
A shadow appeared in the doorway, and a man slowly stepped inside. The person who was the real Dollmaker.
Bruce Porter.