Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(11)

How the bitter bite of her betrayal almost destroyed me.

But none of that really matters. All that matters is that she is back in

Ashland, which means that she is a danger to you and especially to Finn. No

matter what she says, no matter what she does, no matter what lies she tells,

remember this—the only person Deirdre Shaw has ever cared about is herself.

And her rune perfectly matches her own cold, cold heart.

Watch out for Finn. He’ll need you after everything is over and Deirdre has

done whatever foul, manipulative thing she’s planning. Give him the second

letter once she’s gone. You’ll understand why then.

I love you both so much.

Now and always,

Fletcher

I read the letter a second time, then a third. Fletcher hadn’t given me any

specifics, but he didn’t really need to. Deirdre being a ghost for so long

told me the most important part of the story: she didn’t care enough about

her own son to tell him that she was alive.

Curiosity burned in my heart, and my fingers itched to grab Finn’s letter and

slice it open, but I pushed down the urge. Fletcher had wanted me to save it

for Finn, and I would honor the old man’s words and wishes.

Even if I still had no idea where Deirdre Shaw was. Or when or even if she

might appear in Ashland—and Finn’s life.

*

Despite how late it was and how emotionally drained I felt, I couldn’t leave

everything on the table for just anyone to traipse in and find, especially not

before I’d talked to Finn.

So I slid the two letters from Fletcher in between the pages of a copy of

Diamonds Are Forever, the latest book I was reading for the spy literature

course I was taking at Ashland Community College. Then I gathered up the

photos and mementos and placed them all back inside the casket box. I crossed

the den and crawled into the empty fireplace. I stood on my tiptoes, hefted up

the box, and shoved it onto a secret ledge high inside the stone column.

Once everything was secreted away, I headed upstairs to take a shower and wash

off all the blood and grime. By the time my head finally touched the pillows,

it was after two in the morning, but my sleep was fitful, and I spent the rest

of the night tossing, turning, and worrying about how Finn was going to react

to all of this.

In the morning, I got up and went to the Pork Pit. I might be the head of the

underworld now, but like Don the grave robber had said, all the other

criminals were still plotting against me, so I did my usual checks to make

sure that no one had planted any deadly surprises inside the restaurant.

Once I had determined that everything was clean, I started getting ready for

the day. Normally, wiping down the tables and booths would have brought me

some kind of peace.

Not today.

Instead, my stomach churned in time to my quick swipes as I mopped the blue

and pink pig tracks that covered the floor and worried about how to break the

news to Finn. Regardless of how I did it, Bria was right—he was going to be

hurt that I hadn’t told him right away.

Maybe I would feel better when I had talked to Finn, and we could get on with

the business of tracking down Deirdre and finding out what she had been doing

all these years. Or maybe the answers would make me feel even worse—not to

mention what they might do to Finn.

Damned if I did, doubly damned if I didn’t. Yeah. I had a bad feeling that’s

how this whole thing would ultimately play out.

The bell over the front door chimed at exactly eleven o’clock, and in walked

Silvio Sanchez, my personal assistant. The middle-aged vampire looked quite

dapper in a dark gray fedora, overcoat, and matching suit. A small spider rune

pin winked in the center of his silver tie.

Silvio nodded in greeting, took off his hat and coat, and arranged his

smartphone and tablet on the counter. Soft chimes rang out as he fired up his

electronics.

“Are you ready for the morning briefing, Gin?” he asked.

I barely heard him. Instead, I stared at a photo on the wall close to the cash

register, one of a young Fletcher standing with his friend Warren T. Fox

during a fishing trip. Fletcher seemed plenty happy in the photo, but his

smile was dim and faint compared with the big, beaming grins he’d worn in the

pictures of him with Deirdre. The way he’d looked at her . . . it was like

she had been his whole world. I wondered just how badly she’d broken his

heart—and why.

“Gin?” Silvio asked. “Are you okay?”

I turned away from the photo. “Forget about the morning briefing. I have

someone I need you to start digging into. Her name is Deirdre Shaw. She’s an

Ice elemental.”

I reached down, grabbed a copy of Deirdre’s file from a slot under the cash

register, and passed it over to him.

Silvio stared at the icicle-heart rune I’d inked on the folder tab. “And

what is so interesting about Ms. Shaw?”