Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(2)

into the opening, using it as a lever to lift the lid the rest of the way.

Dirt rained down all around me, mixing with the snowflakes, and I wrinkled my

nose to hold back a sneeze. I wedged the length of the shovel in between the

lid and the edge of the casket so it would stay open. Then I wiped the sweat

off my forehead, put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and looked down.

Just as I expected, snow-white silk lined the inside of the casket, with a

small square matching pillow positioned at the very top, where a person’s

head would rest. But something decidedly unexpected was situated next to the

pillow, nestled in the middle of the pristine fabric.

A box.

It was about the size of a small suitcase and made out of silverstone, a

sturdy metal that had the unique property of absorbing and storing magic. The

box’s gray surface gleamed like a freshly minted coin, and it looked as clean

and untouched as the rest of the white silk.

I frowned. I’d expected the casket to be completely empty. Or for there to be

a decaying body inside. If I had been extremely lucky, Deirdre would have been

in there, dead after all.

So why was there a box in it instead? And who had put it here?

I stared at the box, more knots forming in the pit of my stomach and then

slowly tightening. I’d recently gone up against Raymond Pike, a metal

elemental who had enjoyed planting bombs before I helped plant him in some

botanical gardens. Pike had received a letter with Deirdre’s rune stamped on

it and had bragged that the two of them were business associates. He’d also

said she was the most coldhearted person he’d ever met. I wondered if he’d

booby-trapped the box in Deirdre’s casket as some sort of favor to her, to

blow up anyone who might come investigate whether she was truly dead.

I reached out, using my Stone magic to listen to all the rocks in the ground

around the casket. But the rocks only grumbled about the cold, the snow, and

how I’d disturbed their own final resting place. No other emotional

vibrations resonated through them, which meant that no one had been near the

casket in years.

I crouched down and brushed away the dirt that had fallen on top of the box

when I opened the casket lid. No magic emanated from the silverstone box,

although a rune had been carved into the top of it, the same small circle and

eight thin rays that were branded into each of my palms.

My spider rune.

“Fletcher,” I whispered, my breath frosting in the air.

The old man had left the box here for me to find. No doubt about it. He was

the only one who seemed to know that Deirdre wasn’t actually dead. More

important, Fletcher had known me. He had realized that if Deirdre ever made an

appearance back in Ashland, back in Finn’s life, I would find his file on her

and come to her grave to determine whether she was dead and buried.

Once again, the old man had left me with clues to find from beyond his own

grave, which was located a hundred feet away. For whatever reason, he and

Deirdre hadn’t been buried side by side. Something I hadn’t really thought

too much about until tonight. I wondered why Fletcher hadn’t buried the

supposedly dead mother of his son next to his own cemetery plot. Something

must have happened between him and Deirdre.

Something bad.

I opened up the bottom half of the casket and ran my fingers all around the

silk, just in case something else had been left behind, but there was nothing.

So I hooked my hands under the box and lifted it out of the casket. It was

surprisingly heavy, as though Fletcher had packed it full of information. The

weight made me even more curious about what might be inside—

“Did you hear something, Don?”

I froze, hoping that I’d only imagined the high feminine voice.

“Yes, I did, Ethel,” a deeper masculine voice answered back.

No such luck.

Still holding the box, I stood on my tiptoes and peered over the lip of the

grave. A man and a woman stood about forty feet away, both of them dwarves,

given their five-foot heights and stocky, muscular frames. I hadn’t heard a

car roll into the cemetery, so the two of them must have parked somewhere

nearby and walked in like I had.

They were both bundled up in black clothes and weren’t carrying flashlights,

which meant that they didn’t want to be seen. Shovels were propped up on

their shoulders, the metal scoops shimmering like liquid silver under the glow

of the streetlamps. There was only one reason for the two of them to be

skulking around the cemetery with shovels.

My mouth twisted with disgust. Grave robbers. One of the lowest forms of scum,

even among the plethora of criminals who called Ashland home.

They must have sensed my stare, or perhaps they’d noticed the massive pile of

dirt that I’d dug up, because they both turned and looked right at me.

“Hey!” the woman, Ethel, called out. “Someone else is here!”

The two dwarves started running toward me. I cursed, put the box on the ground