Jennifer Estep - Deadly Sting

“But it is true,” Clementine said, continuing her one-sided conversation with the crowd. “This is a robbery. So why don’t we start moving things along? If you will all be so kind as to remove any jewelry, watches, cuff links, and other valuables you have on, some of my boys will go around and collect them. And to save them the effort of patting you down, go ahead and put your phones into the bags too. Now, we’ve already set up a series of cell-phone jammers inside the museum and cut the landlines to the island, so no calls are coming in or out. But let’s just go ahead and remove all temptation to try calling for help anyway. This is a private party, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Three of the giants reached into their pants pockets, drew out black plastic garbage bags, and snapped them open. But before they could step up and repeat their demand that folks take off their jewelry, or else, one of the hostages pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

Jonah McAllister.

The lawyer pinned his cold brown gaze on Clementine. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, while anger stained his unnaturally smooth cheeks a bright beet red.

“You won’t get away with this,” McAllister said in a furious voice, stabbing his finger at the giant. “None of you will get off this island alive. I have no doubt the police will be here any minute to round you up and throw you in prison where you belong—”

Crack!

Clementine didn’t even wait for McAllister to finish sputtering before she stepped forward and backhanded him across the face. The sharp, stinging blow threw the lawyer five feet to his right and slammed him into a pedestal topped by a glass case housing a dainty tea set. The pedestal seesawed back and forth, making the dishes rattle, before McAllister managed to grab it. He hung on to the stand and slowly used it to push himself upright. Then he turned to face the giant again. I had to give McAllister credit. He didn’t cringe—much.

Instead, eyes wide, he blinked like an owl for several seconds before slowly raising a hand to his face, which was bleeding. Clem had opened up a cut low on his left cheek, probably with the sharp edge of her watch. That was no way to treat such an expensive timepiece.

“You were saying?” Clementine asked.

McAllister blanched at the blood on his hand and slowly stepped back. It took him a few seconds, but he didn’t stop backpedaling until he was on the opposite side of the room, as far away from her as he could get and still be standing with the other hostages. Clementine smirked at him for a moment before turning her attention to the crowd again.

“Now, in addition to all those pretty little rings and watches you folks have on, my boys and I are also going to load up Mab’s treasures in the rotunda to take with us. In fact, we plan to clean out the whole museum while we’re here,” she said. “Since this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So to speak.”

She chuckled at her own bad joke, but I was thinking about her words. Loot the entire Briartop museum? Countless millions in art decorated the hallways, galleries, and other exhibit spaces. I’d counted around twenty giants outside earlier, and there were more than thirty in here right now. No wonder she’d brought so many men. She’d need them all to haul so much loot away with her. Clementine definitely didn’t think small. I wondered how long she’d been planning her heist—and what I could do to stop her.

“So while my boys and I go about our business, you’re all going to be spending some quality time here in this beautiful rotunda,” she continued. “As long as you sit still, be quiet, and behave, you will all come out of this just fine. My boys and I are only interested in what the museum has to offer. We don’t want any more blood dirtying up things. Lowers the resale value.”

She let out another hearty chuckle, but once again, no one joined in her laughter. Couldn’t imagine why. She should have brought a giant with a set of drums along with her. That way, he could ba-dum-dum in time to every one of the corny jokes she was cracking.

“But know this,” Clementine said. “We won’t hesitate to fill your guts full of lead if you so much as twitch funny.”

Her smile stayed soft and pleasant, her voice as warm and welcoming as apple pie, but her eyes took on a chillingly empty look. She stared at first one hostage, then another, making sure they all realized how serious she was. Everyone got the message loud and clear.

“Now,” Clementine continued, “there’s actually another reason why my boys and I are here tonight, other than the obvious payday we’re getting. And that reason is that we’re tired—tired of all of you .”

The hostages glanced at one another, wondering what she getting at. So did I.

“We’re giants,” Clementine said. “We’re tough, we’re strong, and we’re damn near unstoppable, but for years—for years —we’ve been relegated to hiring ourselves out to protect you. We’ve put ourselves in the line of fire over and over again, serving you, saving your miserable hides. And for what? Some measly paycheck? Some small hope of advancement? Well, not anymore. No, starting tonight, my boys and I are going to take what we want—take what we’re due —and to hell with anybody who tries to stand in our way. This is the dawn of a new era in Ashland, when we’re in charge. The way it should have been all along.”

All around the rotunda, the other giants nodded their heads in eager agreement. They were totally buying what Clementine was selling and seemed completely committed to her uprising.

She gestured with her gun at the bodies lying on the floor in front of her. “Now, I think that my boys and I have already proven our mettle, but just in case you need some more convincing, I have one more example to show you. Bring her in!”

Dixon stepped back into the rotunda—with Jillian. He might not have had any problems shooting someone in the face, but it seemed as if the giant didn’t like actually getting his hands dirty, judging by the stiff way he held Jillian out in front of him like she was a piece of smelly trash he needed to rid himself of as soon as possible.

Clementine handed Opal her gun, then moved over and took the faceless Jillian from Dixon with quick, easy movements. I thought she might approach the hostages with the body, but instead, she turned and threw it into the middle of the crowd.

Jillian Delancey had been a fit woman, but her body still weighed more than a hundred thirty pounds, every single ounce now dead, floppy, and awkward. But Clementine hefted the body through the air like it was nothing more than a football. All giants were strong, but this—this was an impressive display of sheer, raw power. The only other giant I’d seen with that kind of muscle had been Elliot Slater, Mab’s henchman. Clementine looked to be just as strong as Slater had been, maybe even stronger.

People screamed and scattered when they realized what Clementine was doing, and Jillian’s body slid to a stop on the mosaic star embedded in the floor. Horrified gasps rippled through the crowd like a tree full of crows all cawing at once. More than a few folks turned away from the body, hands clamped over their mouths to try to smother their screams or choke down the bile rising in their throats. Even in Ashland, where violence was so common, someone missing most of her face wasn’t an everyday sight—and it certainly wasn’t a pretty one.

“I want everyone to gather ’round and take a good, long look,” Clementine said. “My nephew, Dixon, did that a few minutes ago. Put enough bullets in this woman’s face that even her own mama wouldn’t recognize her. And he and the rest of my boys will do the exact same thing to you at the slightest whisper of trouble.”