Venom (Page 31)

So while Jo-Jo might claim that I was strong enough that my Stone and Ice magic would never fail me, I didn’t really believe the dwarf. Which is why I carried so many silverstone knives. Sure, blades might break, but they always left some sort of jagged edge behind that I could shove and twist into someone’s flesh.

Once you were out of magic, you were done for. Especially if the person you were fighting still had some juice left. Hence the fact that so many elementals died in duels. Elementals fought by flinging raw magic at each other-Air, Fire, Ice, and Stone-until somebody ran out of power, strength, will. When that happened, the other elemental’s magic washed over the loser. Lose an elemental duel, and you were going to get suffocated, burned, frozen, or perhaps even entombed in your own skin.

Either way, you got dead. Just like my mother and older sister had, thanks to Mab Monroe and her Fire power.

"Come on," I said, pushing away my troubling thoughts. "It’s getting cold out here. Let’s go back inside."

Jo-Jo got to her feet, and I opened the door for her. We stepped into the living room, and I stopped short. A few minutes ago, large, sticky patches of blood had covered the hardwood floor like a new coat of varnish. But now the golden wood looked pristine. Sophia Deveraux was down on her hands and knees, gloves off, scrubbing at one last spot. But instead of using a rag or brush, the Goth dwarf slowly moved her bare finger back and forth over the bloodstain, staring at the spot as though she could burn it away with her mind or some hidden magic deep inside her.

And that’s exactly what she was doing.

Sophia made one pass with her finger, and the blood under her hand dried. On the second pass, the stain looked brittle, as though it had been on the floor for years instead of just an hour. Sophia kept casting her finger back and forth over the stain with slow, precise movements. While I watched, the bloodstain underneath her hand turned a rusty brick color, then a pale pink. A minute later, the wood gleamed with its original golden hue as though the blood had never even been there at all.

I’d been right when I’d thought that the Goth dwarf had the same kind of Air elemental magic that her older sister Jo-Jo did. But instead of healing, instead of mending all those tiny molecules back together, Sophia used her power to tear them apart, to break them down and then slowly sandblast them away into nothingness. I imagined she could do the same to just about anything that crossed her path-blood, bones, bodies.

But the most amazing thing was that I didn’t feel her using the slightest bit of elemental magic.

Sophia’s black eyes didn’t spark and flash with power the way that so many elementals’ eyes did. The tip of her finger didn’t glow. Her skin didn’t become pale, chalky, or sweaty. Hell, she didn’t look like she was exerting any effort at all. Sophia’s Air elemental power was completely self-contained-and completely undetectable.

Sophia sat back on her heels and nodded, pleased by another job well done.

I looked at Sophia, then at Jo-Jo. "Just one person, huh?"

Jo-Jo’s lips turned up in that sad smile again. "Just one. A skill she learned out of necessity rather than by choice."

I thought about asking Jo-Jo what she meant by that cryptic remark, but she went over to Sophia and patted her sister on the shoulder. Sophia glanced up, smiled, and squeezed her big sister’s hand. Some emotion passed between them that I couldn’t quite identify. Pride perhaps, tinged with sorrow. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to interrupt it tonight.

The sisters always came when I needed them. That’s all that mattered, and that’s all I needed to know. They’d tell me the rest in time. When they were ready. Besides, I wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming person, especially when it came to my emotions.

I glanced to my right. Finn paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his cell phone stuck to his ear. Bria rested on the couch, sleeping off the effects of being healed by Jo-Jo. My sister looked like an angel relaxing there on the sofa-despite the clumps of blood that had matted in her shaggy hair.

"I see. I owe you one. Thanks. Bye." Finn snapped his phone shut and turned toward me. "Good news. One of my sources says that Elliot Slater’s gone home to lick his wounds for the rest of the night."

"Wounds? The bastard didn’t have any wounds, as far as I could tell," I muttered and rubbed my side. After she’d finished with Bria, Jo-Jo had used her Air magic to restore my ribs to their previously unbroken state.

Finn jerked his head at Bria. "Seems your sister winged him in the shoulder with her gun. Either way, he’s not coming back here tonight, according to my source."

I raised an eyebrow. "And which source would this be?"

Finn grinned. "This would be Leslie, the lovely young lady who happens to be the daughter of one of the maids who works at Slater’s mansion. Evidently, Slater came home a while ago, went straight to his bedroom, and rang for an Air elemental healer to come force the bullet out of his shoulder."

"Is this Leslie reliable?" I asked.

Finn’s grin widened. "In all sorts of ways."

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to hear about more of Finn’s sexual conquests. Not tonight. So I focused on more important matters. "So Slater’s tucked himself in bed for the rest of the evening. Good. Did Leslie or any of your other sources say anything about why Mab sent the giant out here to kill Bria?"

Finn’s smile slid off his face. "No, but they didn’t have to. I already know."

"How-" I started.

Finn crooked his finger at me. "Follow me. There’s something you need to see, Gin."

Curious, I followed Finn down the hallway. Jo-Jo and Sophia stayed in the living room to keep an eye on Bria. Finn walked back to the kitchen, then climbed a set of stairs to the second floor of the house. More cardboard boxes lined the hallways up here, stacked so high that they formed another set of walls in some places. Looked like Bria had only gotten the downstairs part of her things unpacked.

"While you were busy cleaning up, I took the liberty of exploring the rest of the house," Finn said.

"You mean you rifled through Bria’s stuff to satisfy your own rampant curiosity," I corrected.

Finn looked over his shoulder at me, his green eyes as bright as Christmas lights in his ruddy face. "You’re just jealous you didn’t get around to it first."

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Anyway, your sister has some interesting quirks," Finn replied.

I still couldn’t even bring myself to read the file of information that Finn had compiled on Bria. I certainly didn’t want to paw through her personal, private things like the cheapest kind of thief, especially when she was downstairs, unconscious on her own sofa, recovering from a gunshot wound.