Jennifer Estep - Spider's Revenge

But more important than my discomfort was that the attack took me by surprise. So much so that my hold on my Stone magic slipped, and my skin reverted back to its normal texture — and vulnerability — once more. Which meant that I could now be injured by bullets, fists, or whatever other dangers came my way. Plenty to go around tonight.

“Wow, I thought you’d be tougher to take down than that,” a man rumbled and stepped out of the shadows to my left. “Kind of disappointing, if you ask me, you not living up to all the hype, Spider.”

He was one of Mab’s giants, almost seven feet tall with a big, bulky frame that was ghostly pale in the wintry moonlight, thanks to his silver snowsuit. I recognized him — I’d slid past him on my way toward the mansion earlier. He smiled at me, revealing two rows of capped teeth that were even more dazzling than the frosted landscape around us.

I stayed where I was, down on one knee, as though I were still dazed from his hard hit. The giant’s grin widened, his hand clenched into a fist once more, and he stepped toward me, ready to knock my head the rest of the way off my shoulders. He didn’t see my right hand fall to my side or the glint of metal that suddenly appeared there.

Arrogance will get you, every single time.

As soon as he was in range, I reached up and slammed my silverstone knife into his chest. I drove the blade in as hard and deep as I could before yanking it out and plunging it into him again. The giant needed to get dead — now. I could still hear my other pursuers behind me, racing ever closer to the pine-filled woods and the freedom that they represented.

The giant screamed in pain, telling everyone exactly where we were, and fell to his knees. He reached for me, trying to hold on to me until his buddies could come and watch him die, but I eluded his groping grasp. Normally, I would have moved in for the kill then and slit his throat, but I just didn’t have the time—

Crack! Crack! Crack!

More bullets zinged in my direction, thunking into the trees. Splinters zipped through the air, and the sharp, sticky scent of pine sap burned my nose. I jumped over the wounded giant and darted deeper into the woods, trying to escape the web of death that was slowly tightening around me.

I ran through the forest, leaping over snow-covered logs, stumbling over icy rocks, and shoving through frozen thickets full of sharp, brittle briars. All the while, I held my breath, hoping that my next step wouldn’t be my last. That my boots wouldn’t slip too badly on the snow and ice, that I wouldn’t break my ankle, that I wouldn’t make the single misstep that would mean my death.

Making my way over the hidden, treacherous terrain wasn’t the only thing that I had to worry about. Man-made traps littered the woods as well as magical trip wires, elemental Fire bombs, and other nasty things just waiting for me to stumble into them so they could blast me off to hell. I moved as fast as I dared, keeping to the path that I’d scouted before and skirting around the traps I’d already found on my way in. I kept my pace quick and steady, but I didn’t run blindly, even though the back of my neck itched as though there was a gun pointed right there, right at the sweet spot that would end me.

Paranoia was never a good feeling, especially for an assassin on the run from a botched hit.

And then there were all the giants in the woods, snarling and swarming over everything like wolves tearing into a fresh kill. This time, I didn’t bother skirting around them. If they were between me and my escape, then they got cut with my silverstone knives, as hard and deep as I could manage it and still keep moving.

A few of them blocked my path, putting up as much resistance as they could, but I was quicker and far more ruthless. A swipe or two of my knife, and it was over. By the time the giants realized what was happening, they were more concerned about their guts spilling out of their stomachs than trying to stop me. I moved on, another obstacle hurdled, my eyes fixed ahead once more, ready to take care of the next fool stupid enough to step in front of me. I didn’t bother checking to see if I’d hurt the guards enough to kill them. The giants didn’t matter — only my escape did.

Finally, I managed to put a little distance between myself and my pursuers. The giants’ hoarse shouts faded to eerie echoes that rattled through the trees. But just because they weren’t as close anymore didn’t mean that I was in the clear yet, so I kept moving. I didn’t stop, not even for a second. That would be stupid and sloppy, and I’d already been plenty of both tonight.

I still couldn’t believe that I’d missed Mab. That I’d missed her when I’d had the chance to finish her once and for all—

The click of the gun surprised me.

So did the woman who stepped out of the woods twenty feet ahead of me. Thin, wiry body, gray hair, nut brown skin, pale blue eyes. I recognized her. Ruth Gentry, the woman who’d spoken up during the predinner festivities inside Mab’s mansion.

Now she had a revolver leveled at my chest. The gun was a big, old-fashioned piece, with the kind of fancy pearl finish you see in western movies. It glinted in the moonlight through her fingers, looking as bright as a star against the dark, weather-worn quality of her skin.

“That’s far enough,” Gentry said in the same pleasant voice she’d used with Mab earlier. “Stop right there.”

I did as she asked, even though I wasn’t particularly scared of her and her revolver. The silverstone in the vest that I had on underneath my gray clothes would catch any projectile that thunked into it. The magical metal was better than Kevlar for blocking bullets. Plus, I could always use my Stone magic to harden my skin once more.

Instead, I stood there, stared at the older woman, and struggled to make sense of things. Like how she’d gotten here ahead of me. I retraced my steps in my head, wondering how I’d been so stupid, so slow, as to let someone cut off my escape route.

The giants and the traps in the woods, I realized. I’d spent far too many precious minutes fighting them and skirting around the magical trip wires, which had let Ruth Gentry get in front of me. And now she was standing between me and my freedom.

My hands tightened around the bloody knives in my hands, so hard that I could feel the tiny spider runes stamped into the hilts press against the larger scars embedded in my palms. Not for long.

I could tell by the way her blue eyes stayed on mine and her slow, steady steps toward me that this wasn’t Gentry’s first time facing down someone like me. She wouldn’t be arrogant and assume that just because she’d gotten the drop on me she’d won. She wouldn’t give me an opening to use my knives — unless I made her.

“How did you know that I’d come this way?” I asked, even as I kept both ears open, listening for sounds of pursuit behind me.

Gentry stopped about ten feet in front of me, the revolver still aimed at my chest. Sometime between my seeing her in the dining room and then again out here, she’d put a heavy coat on over her dress. The wool fabric was just as worn and faded as her gown, and the leather boots on her feet were cracked from age and wear. Still, despite her rather shabby appearance, she’d come to Mab’s for a fancy dinner party and had then been prepared enough to tromp through the woods after me on a second’s notice. She was a thinker, then, a planner, which made her that much more dangerous.

She smiled, as though she was delighted by my question. “I guessed.”

I raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see it behind the gray ski mask that covered my face. “You guessed? You must be one hell of a good guesser.”