Web of Lies (Page 38)

While Tobias Dawson and Warren T. Fox played eyeball chicken, my gaze flicked to the men standing behind the dwarf. The two shorter guys were human, although they probably had some giant blood mixed in them, from the looks of their powerful muscles and fists. Easy enough to put down with my knives. The giants standing behind them would be a bit more of a challenge – especially considering the fact each of their fists was only a little smaller than my head. I’d have to bob and weave with them, just like I’d done with the dwarven assassin last night. Still, nothing I couldn’t handle.

My gray eyes rested on Tobias Dawson once more. He’d be the real problem, the real test. Especially since I felt the faintest bit of power trickling off him, like a piece of sandpaper just brushing against my skin. Magic. The blond, mustached dwarf had some kind of elemental magic.

Being an elemental myself, I could sense when others used their magic, of course. But there were some folks like Dawson who, well, leaked magic, for lack of a better word. Even when those elementals weren’t actively using their power, magic still trickled out of them, like water from a leaky faucet. Drip, drip, drip. The magical runoff was easy to sense. Then there were people like me, whose magic was completely self-contained. No leaks, no drips, no runoff. My magic couldn’t be felt at all unless I used it in an overt, forceful manner or someone had a particular knack for sniffing out elemental power.

Dawson’s magic felt similar to my own, although I couldn’t quite tell if the dwarf was a Stone or Ice. If I had to guess, I’d say Stone. The sensation rippling off him would have felt smoother, cooler if he’d been an Ice elemental.

Either way, I felt it. If things went badly, I’d go for the dwarf first, then his goons. With his magic and inherent dwarven strength and toughness, Tobias Dawson was definitely the greater threat.

My thumb rubbed over the hilt of the silverstone knife I’d already palmed. Even though I hadn’t gotten in much practice with my knives lately, the weapon felt cold and comforting in my hand, just like always. An old, familiar friend.

Donovan Caine cleared his throat. Tobias tore his gaze away from Warren and stared at the detective. The dwarf gave Donovan the once-over, dismissed him as unimportant, and turned his attention back to Warren.

"Have you thought any more about my latest offer?"

Tobias Dawson asked in a voice that was pure twangy country.

Warren’s eyes narrowed. "I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been saying for two months now. I’m not interested in selling a soda pop to you, much less my store. You coming down here and asking me every other day isn’t going to change my mind. No matter how much money you offer me."

Tobias leaned forward and spit. Tobacco juice stained the wooden plank an ugly brown at Warren’s feet. "Now that’s a damn shame, especially considering the most recent, more-than-generous offer I made you. Why don’t you do the smart thing and sell out, old man?"

"Because this store, this land, has been in my family for more than three hundred years," Warren replied in a testy tone. "And I’m not letting someone like you come in and strip-mine it like you have the rest of the mountain."

Tobias sighed. A long, drawn-out see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with sigh that sounded as phony as Jonah McAllister had at the Pork Pit. "Now, you know that it’s not exactly strip-mining, Warren. It’s called mountaintop removal, and there’s nothing illegal about it. We’re just getting the coal out of the ground the quickest way we know how."

"And leaving everybody else with your mess," Warren snapped. "Like I said, I’m not interested in letting you do that to my land. My whole backyard’s turned into a damn sinkhole already from you and your mining."

Tobias’s face hardened, and his mustache bristled with barely restrained anger. "I’m tired of waiting you out, old man. You can either sell out now, and get a good price for your land. Or – "

"Or what?" Warren snapped, cutting off the dwarf ‘s threat. "You’ll send some of your boys over here to make me see the light of day? You’ve tried that before, and it didn’t work. A couple of shotgun blasts in their asses sent your boys running for the hills."

Tobias glared over his shoulder at his men, who all shuffled on their feet and stared at the ground.

I looked at Warren with a little more respect. Violet had told me that Warren had fought off Dawson’s goons by himself, but I hadn’t realized the old coot had put buckshot in their hides. Brave but stupid of him. Because Warren’s shotgun and sheer stubbornness must have been part of the reason why the dwarf had decided to go after Violet instead.

Tobias turned back to face us and spit another mouthful of tobacco juice onto the porch. "All I’m saying is it would be a damn shame if something was to happen to you – or your sweet granddaughter."

The dwarf leered at Violet, staring at her boobs like he wanted to bury his head between them. Behind him, the giants and other men did the same. Violet’s face paled a little more, but she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted up her head. She wasn’t backing down any more than her grandfather was.

"By the way, Miss Violet," Tobias drawled in his twangy voice. "You haven’t seen my brother Trace around anywhere, have you? Short guy, looks a fair bit like me, has a stick of dy***ite tattooed on his arm. Drives a great big ole truck."

My gray eyes narrowed. Dawson had a brother named Trace? With a dy***ite tattoo on his arm? That must be the dwarf that Finn had pancaked in the parking lot last night. The one whose body Sophia had disposed of.

"He was going to take care of some business for me in Southtown, over near the community college," Tobias said. "But he didn’t come home last night. I thought you might have seen him, seeing as how you take all those classes at the college."

Violet’s eyes widened behind the frames of her black glasses. She’d just realized Trace was the dwarf who’d attacked her, and she didn’t know how to respond to Tobias Dawson’s veiled innuendos, hints, and threats. But Finnegan Lane, being the Southern gentleman he was, stepped forward and intervened.

"Southtown’s a dangerous neighborhood," Finn said in a soft tone. "Who knows what could have happened to him in a place like that? Just about anything, I imagine. Rough crowd, down in that part of Ashland. Junkies, vampire hookers, pimps. Not safe for a man to walk those streets by himself."

Tobias fixed Finn with a hard stare. "I wasn’t talking to you, son. And what the hell would you know about it anyway?"

Finn smiled. "I grew up down there."

The dwarf stared at Finn with open hostility and suspicion. The two giants and two other men sensed their boss’s displeasure. They shifted forward on their feet, as if to storm past him and come up onto the porch. Tobias tensed, ready to give the order. I palmed another knife.