Black Widow (Page 67)

Across the dance floor, Madeline also stepped out of her white heels and passed them over to Emery. The two of them started whispering, with Madeline’s gaze on me the whole time. No doubt she was ordering Emery to kill me no matter what happened. I’d told Finn the same thing—to put a bullet through Madeline’s head if I lost the duel. One way or another, she was dying tonight.

But all too soon, we were both ready, and there was nothing to do but get on with things. I stepped out into the middle of the dance floor, and Madeline moved to face me. The crowd circled around once more, the whispers and chatter of conversation getting louder and more excited. I even saw some money exchange hands, just like it had before my fight in the bull pen.

For a moment, I looked at the necklace ringing Madeline’s throat. The lights made the gold crown-and-flame rune gleam brighter than ever before. Then I focused my gaze on the acid elemental. The hate glittering in her eyes matched my own hard expression.

“You won’t win, Gin,” she crowed. “You might have been able to defeat my mother and her Fire magic, but I’m even stronger than she was, thanks to my father and his giant blood. Even if I wasn’t, nobody’s ever been able to withstand my acid magic for more than a few seconds. I don’t expect you to be any different.”

I crooked an eyebrow. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Because I am different, and I’m certainly stronger than you are. Maybe not when it comes to raw power, but in other ways—the ones that really count.”

“Well, then, let’s get on with it.” She raised her hands.

I did the same. “With pleasure.”

Madeline smiled, then threw her acid magic at me.

*  *  *

Even though I was expecting the attack, even though I could see all those green, glistening drops of acid arcing through the air toward me, the hot, caustic feel of Madeline’s magic still took my breath away. In the Pork Pit, just picking up the money she’d touched had made me want to scream in agony. But having so much of her power fully directed at me . . . realizing how strong she was . . . knowing that even a few drops of acid hitting my skin in just the right place would kill me instantly . . .

I didn’t know if I could survive it or not, despite my plan.

I brought my Ice magic to bear, holding my palms wide open, and using my power to create a shield to block Madeline’s attack. But the drops of acid burned through all my Ice, obliterating it, and I had to use even more of my magic, much more than I wanted to, to freeze the acid in midair before it could touch my skin.

Madeline lowered her hands, and so did I. Wisps of steam curled in the air between us, creating a cold, eerie fog that kissed my cheeks. I could feel the burn of Madeline’s acid magic even in the steam, and I had to blink back the tears it brought to my eyes.

All around us, the crowd whispered, debating who was going to win, even as more and more money slipped from one hand to the next.

Madeline shook her head. “One little taste of my magic and you’re already crying and playing defense. So sad, Gin.”

“You want offense?” I growled. “Well, how about this.”

I shoved my hands forward and let loose with a cold, bitter burst of Ice magic, trying to take her by surprise. Hundreds of sharp, daggerlike needles erupted from my palms and sliced through the air, heading straight at Madeline.

She laughed, brought up her hand, and flicked her fingers again, sending out another spray of acid. The second that the acid hit my Ice, the deadly needles of my power dissolved into nothingness. A second later, all that remained of them were the few drops of water that had managed to escape Madeline’s magic and hiss against the floor.

“Is that really the best you’ve got?” she asked in a bored tone. “How very weak you are.”

My hands clenched into fists. That hadn’t been a weak attack. I’d put a good chunk of my magic into it, and so had she. Despite her seemingly effortless defense, I could feel how much energy she’d expended to block my strike. Madeline was strong, but I was right up there with her. Our magic wouldn’t determine who killed the other. Not really. How we used our power, who was more clever and resourceful with it—that was what would ultimately decide the winner.

And it was going to be me.

We exchanged blow after blow, insult after insult, as the duel raged on. She flung acid balls at me, I tossed Ice daggers back at her. She focused on my face, I went after her knees. She stepped back, I moved in. Ice and acid flew through the air as our attacks and counterattacks grew quicker and more furious, and our voices and taunts dissolved into low, vicious snarls. But neither one of us could get the upper hand in our deadly dance, and neither of us could break through the other’s magic to do any real damage.

Stalemate.

The crime bosses scrambled out of the way of our explosive blasts of magic, but they didn’t go far, and their faces were cold, eager, and calculating as they oohed and aahed with every bright burst of power. From the snippets of conversation I’d heard, most of them were hoping that we would kill each other outright and save them the trouble of trying to do it themselves.

My friends watched too, torn between cheering me on and worrying about whether I was going to survive. But they didn’t interfere. I’d asked them not to, explained all the many reasons why I needed to face Madeline myself, and they’d reluctantly agreed. Besides, they couldn’t have gotten between me and the acid elemental now, not without dying in the cross fire.

But they weren’t the only ones who were worried—so was I.

We’d only been fighting a few minutes, but I’d already used up most of my magic, more than I’d wanted to. Plan A had been to kill Madeline outright with my own power, but that wasn’t going to work. Time to change tactics.

So when Madeline raised her hands again, I charged at her. She flung a ball of acid at me, but I managed to sidestep it and get in close enough to slam my fist into her jaw. That made the crowd roar.

Me too, since my hand exploded in agony the second that my skin touched hers.

It wasn’t any real pain from the punch. I’d thrown more than enough of those in my time to be accustomed to that sharp, smacking sting. No, this was much, much worse. Too late, I realized that not only could Madeline create acid, but that, in a way, her skin was coated with the caustic power that she could control. So much for my Plan B of beating and strangling her to death with my bare hands.

I screamed and lurched back, clutching my hand to my chest. That only made the crowd cheer louder.