I had to laugh at his utter confidence in his smarmy seduction skills. “Well, if anyone can make a woman forget all about a lot of blood and some big, fat, whopping lies, it’s Finnegan Lane, baby.”

His chest puffed up with pride. “Damn straight.”

But his merriment quickly fled, and his handsome face turned serious again. “I haven’t said this yet, but I’m glad you’re okay, Gin. I know that we haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately, but I don’t know what Dad and I would do without you.”

I leaned over and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You’re just saying that because you want to get your greedy, grubby hands on more of our money. Without me hanging around, you’d be out of a middleman job and all the sweet, sweet cash that comes along with it.”

“True,” Finn agreed in a happy voice. “But I’d miss you more than the money, Gin. I hope you know that, that you really know that, deep down, where it matters.”

Hot tears stung my eyes, and my throat closed up with emotion. All I could do was nod. Finn slung his arm around my shoulders and hugged me to his chest. We stood like that for one precious moment. Then we both drew back, not quite looking at each other.

“Duty calls,” he quipped. “And so does Roslyn.”

“Go get her, tiger.”

Finn gave me a saucy wink before striding down the hallway and out of sight. I watched him go, so proud of him, so grateful for him.

My brother—and my friend now too.

I shuffled into one of the guest bathrooms, stripped off my ruined dress, and took a long, hot shower to wash away all the blood, grime, and gore of the night.

Too bad I couldn’t slough off Sebastian’s betrayal as easily as I scrubbed the blood off my hands.

I got out of the shower, dried off, and slipped into an old T-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts that were among the stash of clothes I kept at Jo-Jo’s. Then I got comfortable in one of the spare beds. Despite the long, hard night, my mind kept racing as I lay in the dark and went back over every single moment I’d ever spent with Sebastian. Every word he’d said to me, every smile he’d given me, every lie he’d told me.

I didn’t think I’d get much sleep, but I must have been more exhausted than I’d realized, because I quickly fell into the land of dreams, of memories . . .

Even in sleep, though, my mind kept going, churning from one horrible moment of my life to the next. My mother and Annabella disappearing into balls of elemental Fire. The stones of our mansion crashing down all around me. Climbing through the piles of rubble that remained behind, searching for Bria. Finally realizing that she was dead because of me and my magic. My confused, aimless wanderings through the woods that surrounded our house. The moment when I finally stumbled onto a road—a road that would eventually lead me to the Pork Pit and Fletcher, even if I didn’t know it yet . . .

My eyes snapped open. For a moment, I couldn’t quite remember where I was, but the soft summer sunlight slanting in through the window illuminated the cloud-covered fresco on the ceiling. The splashes of blue and white soothed me, and I realized that I was safe at Jo-Jo’s.

I let out a breath and put my hands over my face, as though I could dig my fingers into my skull and pull out all of the memories that haunted me. This was the second time in the last few weeks that I’d flashed back to my past in my dreams. I hoped I wouldn’t make a habit out of reliving my life every time I went to sleep. That would be rather tragic—and tiring.

Still, I thought back over my dreams, my memories, trying to find the reason for them, if there was such a thing. I’d thought that nothing could ever be more horrible than witnessing the murder of my family, but in some ways, the pain Sebastian had inflicted on me had been even worse.

I’d been a kid back then, ambushed and tortured in the middle of the night by a stranger who was older and stronger. There was no way I could have known what was coming.

But Sebastian had wormed his way past all of my defenses, which I’d thought were so strong, clever, and impenetrable. But he’d fooled me as easily as he had everyone else. I’d been lucky to escape the mausoleum with my life, and luckier still to have made it to Finn and Fletcher in time to save them both.

Or was it luck? The only kind of luck that Fletcher had taught me to believe in was bad luck. He said that we made everything else ourselves. I didn’t know about that, though. But I’d survived all the other horrible things that had happened to me, and somehow I had survived Sebastian Vaughn too, despite his best efforts to kill me.

But I wasn’t the only one who’d suffered at his hands. Cesar was dead because of his scheming. And Charlotte would continue to suffer, continue to be abused by her brother, unless I did something about it.

She probably wished that she hadn’t, now that she knew what I’d done to her father, but Charlotte had saved my life last night. If she hadn’t woken me up when she did, Sebastian would have gotten Porter to tie me down to the bed, and the two men would both probably still be torturing me right now. And Finn and Fletcher might be dead too.

I owed Charlotte for that, more than she would ever realize. But I also owed her for being so very wrong about her father, for taking away what was left of her family, just as the Fire elemental had taken my mother and sisters from me all those years ago. That was one of the things I hated the most about this whole situation, how I’d become just like that mysterious killer thanks to Sebastian’s machinations and my own impetuousness.

But I couldn’t change what I’d done. I couldn’t bring Cesar Vaughn back to life. But I could sure as hell make certain that Sebastian died for his sins.

Oh, I knew that killing Sebastian wouldn’t make up for taking Charlotte’s father away from her. It wouldn’t make up for anything I’d done, not one damn thing. Nothing would.

But I still had to try, all the same.

So I threw back the covers and got out of bed.

30

It was after ten, and everyone else was still asleep. It was Sunday, so the salon was closed, and Fletcher and Sophia didn’t have to get up to open the Pork Pit.

It was the perfect time to make brunch for everyone. So I tiptoed downstairs, went into the kitchen, and started rummaging through the cabinets and the refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for the spread I had in mind.

I whipped flour, sugar, salt, eggs, and milk into a frothy pancake batter, then added some fresh summer blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries that Jo-Jo had left sitting out on the counter. I spooned generous dollops of the creamy berry mixture into a hot skillet that I’d melted a little butter in. While the pancakes cooked, I also crisped up some bacon, put on a pot of chicory coffee, and made fruit smoothies with fresh-squeezed orange juice, vanilla yogurt, and a drizzle of sourwood honey that Jo-Jo had bought at some store called Country Daze, according to the label.

I’d thought that I would keep obsessing about Sebastian, but I quickly, easily lost myself in the rhythms of mixing and stirring, flipping and frying, blending and frappéing. More than that, I enjoyed the motions, knowing that the end result would be a hot, hearty, delicious meal for the people I loved. Who knew that cooking could be so cathartic?

I made more than enough for everyone and left big platters of food on the butcher’s-block table in the kitchen. I also grabbed a wooden tray out of one of the cabinets and piled it high with food, dishes, napkins, silverware, and two tall glasses filled with the orange smoothie, along with a cup of steaming chicory coffee for Fletcher. I took the tray up to the bedroom where he was sleeping and knocked on the door.

“Come on in, Gin.”

I twisted the knob, opened the door, and stepped into the room. “How did you know it was me?”

He grinned. “Because you’re the only one I know who can make pancakes and bacon smell that divine.”

I grinned back at him. “And you’re a shameless flatterer, just like your son.”

Fletcher’s grin widened. “Charm has its uses.”

I thought of Sebastian, and my smile slipped. “Yeah.”

Fletcher sat up in bed, and I put the tray on his lap before pulling a rocking chair from the corner of the room over to his side. We divvied up the food and dug in. I took the time to savor every single bite. The light, fluffy, fruity pancakes; the slightly smoky, salty bacon; the tart, tangy orange smoothie that washed everything down.

We finished eating. Fletcher put the tray on the nightstand beside his elbow, then leaned back against the headboard and let out a loud, contented sigh.

“That was a mighty fine breakfast.”

“I do try.”

He grinned again. “That you do.”

We fell silent again, although we kept staring at each other.

Finally, I raised my chin and squared my shoulders. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

Fletcher shook his head. “I told you last night, and I’ll tell you again in the light of day. Don’t blame yourself, Gin. I didn’t see what Sebastian was really up to either, not until it was too late, and I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“True. But you’re not the one who fell so easily for his lies. That was all me.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You have to hand it to him, though. He definitely has skills. And his magic . . .” My voice trailed off. “He’s strong, Fletcher. Very strong.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “But not as strong as you are, Gin.”

I shook my head. “That’s where you’re wrong. He is stronger than I am. He’s a powerful elemental. Certainly the most powerful Stone elemental I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’re the best damn assassin I’ve ever seen,” Fletcher snapped right back. “Magic is all well and good, but you don’t need it to do what you do. That’s the difference between you and Sebastian. He does. Not only that, but he needs people to do his dirty work for him. That’s why he came to us instead of killing his father himself. He likes manipulating people, getting them to do what he wants without them even realizing that they’re playing right into his hands. Just like you, Finn, and I did. Sebastian might like to hurt people, but he likes to think that he’s above everything too, including folks like us.”

Everything he said was true, but it didn’t make me feel any better about things. Still, I knew what I had to do, so I drew in a breath and raised my gaze to his. “I have to do this by myself.”

Fletcher nodded. “I know. I know you do, Gin, and it’s what I’ve been training you for all these years. You were strong enough to get away from Sebastian last night. I trust that you’re strong enough to end him tonight.”

I picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Even though I completely messed up? I let him get too close to me. I let him figure out who we were and what we do.”

I even let him into my heart, a sad, tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind.

“Everyone screws up from time to time,” Fletcher said. “Including me.”

“But even if I kill him, it still might not be over. I don’t know who else he might have told about me, about us. I don’t think he told Mab my name, but at the very least, Porter knows who I am. We could still be in danger. Even worse, someone could sell us out to our enemies. The Tin Man’s and the Spider’s. Who knows how many people might come after us then?”

Fletcher shrugged. “Then we’ll deal with those people if and when they decide to target us. There’s nothing else we can do.”

I wanted to scream in frustration, but he was right. There was nothing we could do but hope that Sebastian had kept his suspicions about our real identities and purposes to himself.

“When are you leaving?” Fletcher asked.

“In a few hours. After I get ready. I don’t want to give Sebastian time to think up a new plan or to realize that I’m still alive and coming for him.”

He nodded, then tossed back the covers and got to his feet, revealing a pair of worn blue flannel pajamas.

“What are you doing? You need to rest. You’re not coming with me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No,” Fletcher said. “But you need someone to drive you over there and wait until you come out again, and that someone is going to be me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he waved a hand, cutting me off.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to interfere or get in the way of what you need to do. I know better than that. But I want my spot of revenge too, and I’ll be more than happy to take it by delivering you to Sebastian’s door. Come on, Gin. Let an old man have his fun.” His voice took on the same wheedling note that I’d heard in Finn’s a hundred times before. Fletcher grinned at me, and I smiled back.

“Okay, okay, you can drive me,” I said. “Just let me get my things, and then I’ll get on with the business of killing Sebastian Vaughn.”

Several hours later, I crept through the woods at the edge of the Vaughn estate. Fletcher had dropped me off about a mile from the gate that led into the estate, and I’d spent the last thirty minutes hiking through the woods until I reached the back side of the property. It was after four now, and the sun still blazed overhead. Despite the sweltering heat, I was dressed the way I always was for one of my jobs: black cargo pants, long-sleeved black T-shirt, black boots, and a black vest lined with silverstone.

And I had my knives on me, all five of them this time. One up either sleeve, one in the small of my back, and one in either boot. If I didn’t kill Sebastian, it wouldn’t be for lack of adequate weaponry.

I hunkered down inside the tree line between a large maple with branches that arched up into the sky and a rhododendron with pale pink flowers that drooped in the heat. The humidity was even more oppressive than usual, and dark clouds had started to gather to the west, slowly turning the sky an eerie, brooding black. It would storm soon.