Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(3)

next to the tombstone, dug my fingers into the grass, and scrambled up and out

of the grave. I’d just staggered to my feet when the dwarves stopped in front

of me, their shovels now held out in front of them like lances.

Ethel’s blue eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you think you’re doing? This

here is our cemetery. Nobody else’s.”

“Aw, now, don’t be like that, Ethel,” her companion said. “Look on the

bright side. She did the hard work of digging up this grave for us already.

Looks like she found something good too.”

He stabbed his shovel at the silverstone box. My fingers clenched into fists.

No way were they getting their grubby hands on that. Not when it might hold

clues about Deirdre Shaw—where she might be and why everyone thought she was

dead, including Finn, her own son.

Don grinned; his bright red nose and bushy white beard made him look like

Santa Claus. With her rosy cheeks and short, curly white hair, Ethel was the

perfect counterpart. If Santa and Mrs. Claus were low-down, no-good grave

robbers.

“Why, we should thank her,” Don said. “Before we kill her, of course.”

Ethel nodded. “You’re right, hon. You always are.”

The two dwarves tightened their grips on their shovels and stepped toward me,

but I held my ground, my gray eyes as cold and hard as the snow-dusted

tombstones.

“Before the two of you do something you won’t live to regret, you should

know that that box is mine,” I said. “Walk away now, don’t come back, and I

’ll forget that I ever saw you here.”

“And who do you think you are, giving us orders?” Ethel snapped.

“Gin Blanco. That’s who.”

I didn’t say my name to brag. Not really. But I was the head of the Ashland

underworld now, which meant that they should know exactly who I was—and

especially what I was capable of doing to them.

Ethel rolled her eyes. “You must really be desperate to claim to be her. Then

again, dead women will say anything to keep on breathing, won’t they, Don?”

The other dwarf nodded. “Yep.”

I ground my teeth. Low-life criminals had no trouble tracking me down at the

Pork Pit, my barbecue restaurant in downtown Ashland, and no qualms whatsoever

about trying to kill me there. But whenever I was away from the restaurant,

got into a bad situation, and tried to warn people about who I really was,

nobody believed me. Irony’s way of screwing me over time and time again,

laughing at me all the while.

“Besides,” Don continued, “even if you really were Gin Blanco, it wouldn’t

matter. Everyone knows that she’s the big boss in name only. It won’t be

long until someone kills her and takes her place.”

He was certainly right about that. The other bosses were plotting against me,

and many of the city’s criminals were waiting to see how my underworld reign

played out—or how short-lived it might be—before they officially took sides.

Still, it was kind of sad when even the local grave robbers didn’t respect

you.

I opened my mouth to tell them to stop being idiots, but Don kept on talking.

“Enough chitchat. It’s freezing out here, and we need to get to work, which

means that your time is up. But since you found that box for us, I’ll offer

you a deal. Turn around, and I’ll whack you on the back of the head.” Don

swung his shovel in a vicious arc. “You won’t even know what hit you. I’ll

even plant you in that grave, so you get some kind of proper burial.”

I palmed the silverstone knife hidden up my right sleeve and flashed it at

them. “As charming as your offer is, I’m going to have to decline.”

Ethel glared at me. “So that’s how it is, then?”

“That’s how it always is with me.”

The two dwarves looked at each other, raised their shovels, and charged at me.

I reached for my Stone magic, hardening my body again, then surged forward to

meet them.

I sidestepped Ethel and sliced my knife across Don’s chest, but he was

wearing so many puffy layers that it was like cutting into a marshmallow. I

slashed through his down vest, and tiny white feathers exploded in my face,

momentarily blinding me and making me sneeze.

Don yelped in surprise and staggered back. I sneezed again and went after him

—

Whack!

A shovel slammed into my shoulder, spinning me around. But since I was still

holding on to my Stone magic, the shovel bounced off my body instead of

cracking all the bones in my arm.

I blinked away the last of the feathers to find Ethel glaring at me again.

“Look at that gray glow to her eyes,” she huffed. “She’s a Stone

elemental. We’ll have to beat her to death to put her down for good.”

Don brightened, his blue eyes twinkling in his face and adding to the Santa

Claus illusion. “Why, it’ll be just like our honeymoon all over again,” he