Black Widow
Page 75
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Still, as I looked at the girl, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible, I almost felt as if I were . . . Mab.
I could see it all so clearly, just the way that she no doubt had all those years ago. How this one innocent girl could one day grow up to be a threat to me. How she could destroy everything I’d built. How she could kill everyone I loved, before she finally murdered me herself.
In that moment, I could almost . . . understand why Mab had murdered my mother and Annabelle and had tried to do the same to me and Bria all those years ago. How, in her mind, she’d simply been trying to protect herself and her empire. How she’d wanted to nip this potential threat in the bud, since it was by far the most dangerous one that she would ever encounter. And how all she had done was set in motion her own destruction with her attack on my family.
Yes, I could almost understand Mab’s reasoning back then, but that didn’t mean that I could do what she had done. Because no matter how ruthless I was, no matter how cold or tough or brutal of an assassin, Fletcher had taught me a few simple rules, ones that held firm even now, when I was confronted by the next generation of the Snow-Monroe family feud in the making.
No kids—ever.
So I cleared my throat, plastered a more genuine smile on my face, and crouched down on my knees so that my face was level with hers.
“Hi, there, sweetheart. My name is Gin.”
I held out my hand to her. Moira stared at me, still frightened, but I had soothed her enough to get her to release her acid magic. The pale green sparks flickering around her fingers vanished, although her rabbit continued to burn against her chest. She gingerly took my hand in hers. I gritted my teeth, expecting to feel the invisible waves of her magic burning my skin, but her hand was small, warm, and soft, with no trace of her power pulsing on her delicate skin—yet.
“Hey,” she said, perking up for no apparent reason the way that kids so often do. “Would you like to see my room? It’s this way!”
Instead of letting go of my hand, Moira started tugging me out of the ballroom. I looked back over my shoulder at my friends. Most of them gave me helpless shrugs, but Bria stepped forward, following us.
Moira led me down the hallway like a general directing a soldier. She didn’t let go of my hand until she reached a door that was cracked open at the end of one of the corridors. The door was painted blue, and as soon as she saw it, she barreled ahead into the room. I drew in a breath and followed her, bracing myself for what I knew I was going to find.
An enormous playroom lay before me.
A child-size, white wicker table with four matching seats stood in the center of the room, covered with a white china tea set patterned with delicate blue roses. Real pitchers of lemonade sat on the table, along with a plate of half-eaten sugar cookies and apple slices that had already turned brown. Picture books, dolls, and stuffed animals lined wooden shelves built into one of the walls near a white, padded window seat, while large, open cedar chests in the corners held even more toys. Any little girl could spend hours in this sort of fantasy playground, happily drinking lemonade, eating cookies, and reading books to all her stuffed-animal friends.
At the far side, an archway led to a large bedroom, and I could see a bathroom branching off that area. This was the suite of rooms that Silvio had shown me yesterday, the ones that he’d thought Madeline was remodeling for some guest. Well, now I knew exactly who’d been staying in them.
I just didn’t know what to do about it.
Beside me, Bria stood in the doorway and stared at the playroom, memories, heartache, and longing etched in the tight lines around her mouth.
“We used to have a room just like this,” she said in a low voice. “Full of toys and games and dolls and tea sets. Do you remember, Gin? What it was like, what we were like, before . . . Mab?”
I nodded and gripped her hand tight.
Moira plopped her half-melted bunny down in one of the chairs, then skipped over and grabbed my hand again, pulling me forward.
“C’mon, Gin. Let’s have a tea party!” Moira stopped, giving Bria a shy look. “The pretty princess lady can come too.”
I looked at Bria, who looked just as stunned as I did. I shrugged at my sister, and she shrugged back. Moira tugged on our hands and led us both over to the white wicker table in the center of the playroom.
Why not. It would be better than the party we’d just been at.
* * *
Bria and I sat on the floor next to the table while Moira ran around the playroom, introducing us to all her dolls and stuffed animals. My sister and I made the appropriate noises, but we were both still too stunned to really hear what the little girl was chattering on about.
Jo-Jo came to the playroom a few minutes later, and the dwarf somehow managed to get Moira settled in bed and started reading a book to her. So Bria and I slipped away and went back out to the ballroom.
The rest of my friends were still there, checking the bodies, but I ignored them and marched over to where Jonah McAllister lay in front of the terrace doors. He was still out cold, so I started kicking him in the ribs until the weaselly bastard woke up. It didn’t take long before he groaned and rolled over onto his side. I kicked him one more time, then leaned down, grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo, hoisted him upright, and slammed his body back against the closest door. It took his brown eyes a moment to focus on me, but I was pleased to note the fear that filled them the second he realized that I was looming over him.
“The girl,” I ground out. “Moira. Madeline’s daughter. Start talking. How old is she? Where is she from? Who is her father?”
Jonah just stared at me, more and more fear filling his eyes and blocking out everything else, including my pointed questions.
I shook him once, roughly, then leaned forward a little more so that my face was inches away from his. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I don’t know much.”
I leaned forward even more.
“I don’t! I swear!” Jonah cried out. “Just that the girl is almost four years old. Madeline had her, but she wanted to focus on building her own business empire, so she left the girl with her father.”
“And who might that be?”
He shrugged. “Some Stone elemental, I think. Apparently, he really loved Moira and was happy to raise her by himself. Then Madeline came around again and told him that she was taking her daughter to Ashland. The father tried to run, tried to take the girl with him, but Madeline had Emery track him down.”
I could see it all so clearly, just the way that she no doubt had all those years ago. How this one innocent girl could one day grow up to be a threat to me. How she could destroy everything I’d built. How she could kill everyone I loved, before she finally murdered me herself.
In that moment, I could almost . . . understand why Mab had murdered my mother and Annabelle and had tried to do the same to me and Bria all those years ago. How, in her mind, she’d simply been trying to protect herself and her empire. How she’d wanted to nip this potential threat in the bud, since it was by far the most dangerous one that she would ever encounter. And how all she had done was set in motion her own destruction with her attack on my family.
Yes, I could almost understand Mab’s reasoning back then, but that didn’t mean that I could do what she had done. Because no matter how ruthless I was, no matter how cold or tough or brutal of an assassin, Fletcher had taught me a few simple rules, ones that held firm even now, when I was confronted by the next generation of the Snow-Monroe family feud in the making.
No kids—ever.
So I cleared my throat, plastered a more genuine smile on my face, and crouched down on my knees so that my face was level with hers.
“Hi, there, sweetheart. My name is Gin.”
I held out my hand to her. Moira stared at me, still frightened, but I had soothed her enough to get her to release her acid magic. The pale green sparks flickering around her fingers vanished, although her rabbit continued to burn against her chest. She gingerly took my hand in hers. I gritted my teeth, expecting to feel the invisible waves of her magic burning my skin, but her hand was small, warm, and soft, with no trace of her power pulsing on her delicate skin—yet.
“Hey,” she said, perking up for no apparent reason the way that kids so often do. “Would you like to see my room? It’s this way!”
Instead of letting go of my hand, Moira started tugging me out of the ballroom. I looked back over my shoulder at my friends. Most of them gave me helpless shrugs, but Bria stepped forward, following us.
Moira led me down the hallway like a general directing a soldier. She didn’t let go of my hand until she reached a door that was cracked open at the end of one of the corridors. The door was painted blue, and as soon as she saw it, she barreled ahead into the room. I drew in a breath and followed her, bracing myself for what I knew I was going to find.
An enormous playroom lay before me.
A child-size, white wicker table with four matching seats stood in the center of the room, covered with a white china tea set patterned with delicate blue roses. Real pitchers of lemonade sat on the table, along with a plate of half-eaten sugar cookies and apple slices that had already turned brown. Picture books, dolls, and stuffed animals lined wooden shelves built into one of the walls near a white, padded window seat, while large, open cedar chests in the corners held even more toys. Any little girl could spend hours in this sort of fantasy playground, happily drinking lemonade, eating cookies, and reading books to all her stuffed-animal friends.
At the far side, an archway led to a large bedroom, and I could see a bathroom branching off that area. This was the suite of rooms that Silvio had shown me yesterday, the ones that he’d thought Madeline was remodeling for some guest. Well, now I knew exactly who’d been staying in them.
I just didn’t know what to do about it.
Beside me, Bria stood in the doorway and stared at the playroom, memories, heartache, and longing etched in the tight lines around her mouth.
“We used to have a room just like this,” she said in a low voice. “Full of toys and games and dolls and tea sets. Do you remember, Gin? What it was like, what we were like, before . . . Mab?”
I nodded and gripped her hand tight.
Moira plopped her half-melted bunny down in one of the chairs, then skipped over and grabbed my hand again, pulling me forward.
“C’mon, Gin. Let’s have a tea party!” Moira stopped, giving Bria a shy look. “The pretty princess lady can come too.”
I looked at Bria, who looked just as stunned as I did. I shrugged at my sister, and she shrugged back. Moira tugged on our hands and led us both over to the white wicker table in the center of the playroom.
Why not. It would be better than the party we’d just been at.
* * *
Bria and I sat on the floor next to the table while Moira ran around the playroom, introducing us to all her dolls and stuffed animals. My sister and I made the appropriate noises, but we were both still too stunned to really hear what the little girl was chattering on about.
Jo-Jo came to the playroom a few minutes later, and the dwarf somehow managed to get Moira settled in bed and started reading a book to her. So Bria and I slipped away and went back out to the ballroom.
The rest of my friends were still there, checking the bodies, but I ignored them and marched over to where Jonah McAllister lay in front of the terrace doors. He was still out cold, so I started kicking him in the ribs until the weaselly bastard woke up. It didn’t take long before he groaned and rolled over onto his side. I kicked him one more time, then leaned down, grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo, hoisted him upright, and slammed his body back against the closest door. It took his brown eyes a moment to focus on me, but I was pleased to note the fear that filled them the second he realized that I was looming over him.
“The girl,” I ground out. “Moira. Madeline’s daughter. Start talking. How old is she? Where is she from? Who is her father?”
Jonah just stared at me, more and more fear filling his eyes and blocking out everything else, including my pointed questions.
I shook him once, roughly, then leaned forward a little more so that my face was inches away from his. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I don’t know much.”
I leaned forward even more.
“I don’t! I swear!” Jonah cried out. “Just that the girl is almost four years old. Madeline had her, but she wanted to focus on building her own business empire, so she left the girl with her father.”
“And who might that be?”
He shrugged. “Some Stone elemental, I think. Apparently, he really loved Moira and was happy to raise her by himself. Then Madeline came around again and told him that she was taking her daughter to Ashland. The father tried to run, tried to take the girl with him, but Madeline had Emery track him down.”
