By a Thread (Page 52)

Despite how tightly I held on to my emotions, the dwarf could always sense when I was struggling with something – that’s how well she knew me.

I shifted on the bed. "The bastard gnawed on my neck like a dog chewing a bone. He hurt me, Jo-Jo. More than I thought he would, more than I thought he could. I didn’t think there was anyone as powerful as Mab, but Dekes showed me just how wrong I was last night. I stupidly thought I could go in and take care of him as easily as I did his men at the hotel, but he almost killed me instead. Hell, he would have killed me if I hadn’t managed to play dead. It was just dumb luck on my part that I got away from him."

"Your fight with Mab was a long time coming," Jo-Jo said, her clear eyes locking with my gray ones. "You’ve focused so much energy on her these past few months that you’ve turned a blind eye to everything else. The fact is that there are people out there who are just as dangerous as Mab ever was, some of them with magic, and some of them without. The Fire elemental dying at your hands doesn’t change that."

"So what do I do about it?" I asked, feeling just as lost as if I were still plodding through the dark marsh.

Jo-Jo smiled and patted my hand. "You do what you always do, darling. You keep going and fighting and struggling – and then you take the bastard down any way you can."

The dwarf got up and started moving around the room, humming under her breath as she gathered up some clean towels and clothes so I could take a shower and wash the rest of the stink of the long night off me. I sat there on the bed and watched her work, turning over her words in my mind.

Jo-Jo was right. I’d been so focused on Mab that I’d forgotten that someone didn’t have to be an elemental to be dangerous – and that a vampire could kill me as easily as anyone else could. Whether I liked it or not, Dekes had almost done the deed so many others had tried to do and failed. But even worse, the vampire had scared me. I’d accepted that Mab would probably get the best of me, but I hadn’t thought Dekes would be such a threat, that he could come so close to killing me. The vampire had proved to me just how wrong I’d been. Sure, I’d had something of a deadline, given Callie’s situation, but I’d been stupid, arrogant, and sloppy even to waltz into his mansion without more information, especially about what kind of elemental magic he did or didn’t have, and I’d almost paid the ultimate price for my foolishness.

But if there was one thing I was good at, it was learning from my mistakes. Yes, Dekes had gotten the best of me last night, but I was still alive, still breathing, which meant I still had another chance to take the vamp down.

Jo-Jo might have healed my wounds from Dekes’s gruesome bites, but the horror that I’d endured at the vampire’s hands had still scarred me. The vicious brutality of his attack had left its own grooves and nicks on my black heart, right alongside the ones that Mab, LaFleur, Elliot Slater, and so many others had before.

But I’d repaid those marks in spades to the people who’d caused them – and I was going to do the same thing to Dekes very, very soon.

I got out of bed, took a shower, and put on some clean clothes. I still felt a little tired, the way I always did whenever Jo-Jo used her Air magic to bring me back from the brink of death. It would take my mind a few hours to play catch-up and realize that my body was whole and well once more. Normally, I would have gone back to bed for a few more hours, but I couldn’t rest today.

Not while Callie was still in danger. Not while Vanessa and her sister were still being held hostage at the vampire’s mansion. Not while Randall Dekes was still breathing. I’d rest after the vamp was dead.

It was going to be sooner than he’d ever f**king dreamed.

It was noon now, and the others were waiting in the downstairs living room, staring out at the ocean without really seeing the waves or the bright, sunny beauty of the day. They all jumped to their feet when I came into the room, and Owen immediately wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in, letting his scent fill my nose.

"I was so worried about you," he whispered.

"I know. I’m sorry."

I didn’t tell him that something like this wouldn’t happen again because we both knew it would. Like it or not, violence was a part of my life. It had been ever since I was thirteen, and it wouldn’t stop now just because Mab was dead. But I was the Spider, and Fletcher had trained me to face whatever the world threw my way. He’d made me strong enough to do it time and time again, to take my licks and come back even tougher and more determined than before. I wasn’t about to disappoint the old man now, even if he was dead and gone.

I pulled back, stood on my tiptoes, and gently kissed Owen. He returned my kiss, drew back, and rested his forehead against mine – just holding me like I was holding him. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of his body against mine, letting his warmth spill into the cold, dark places in my heart and mute the horrors I’d faced last night. And then I sighed with relief, with love, with everything I felt for him but always had so much trouble putting into words.

"I know," he whispered again. "Me too."

I could have spent the rest of the day in Owen’s strong, comforting embrace, but as tempting as that was, it wouldn’t solve the problem of how to kill Dekes. Like it or not, it was time for me to put on my game face again. So I opened my eyes and pressed another kiss to Owen’s lips before slipping out of his arms and heading into the kitchen.

I pulled open the refrigerator door and eyed all the vittles inside that we’d brought home from the grocery store yesterday, before moving over and doing the same thing to the cabinets. Once I’d taken stock of everything, I started grabbing the items I wanted. Buttermilk, flour, cornmeal, chicken, olive oil, shortening, salad fixings, and more soon crowded onto the kitchen counters.

"You’re not seriously going to cook now, are you?" Bria asked, eyeing the boxes and bottles that I’d lined up in neat rows. "Shouldn’t you still be resting?"

"I think I’ve rested enough," I said. "Besides, I’m starving. Being drained by a vamp will do that to a girl."

My sister didn’t smile at my gallows humor, but she did step into the kitchen and start rifling through the drawers, looking for dishes, glasses, silverware, and more. Finn, Owen, Sophia, and Jo-Jo settled themselves around the long, square table in the dining room that branched off the kitchen.

I washed my hands and got to work. First I added a generous dash of salt and black pepper to the flour that I’d poured into a small, shallow dish. Then I cleaned and soaked the chicken in a bowl full of buttermilk before dredging it in the flour mixture. A few seconds later, the first piece sizzled when I put it in the skillet full of olive oil that I’d heated on the stove. More pieces joined that first one, until the smell of meat filled the kitchen. Once I got all the chicken in the skillet, I took the rest of the buttermilk that was left in the carton and mixed it with the remaining cornmeal, forming a thick, creamy batter, while a black cast-iron skillet went into the preheated oven so that the shortening I’d coated it with would melt.