Poison Promise
Page 35

Benson turned to face me. I’d never seen him look anything but cold, clinical, and detached, but right now, he was a f**king mess. His clothes were torn, ripped, and dirty from our fight, his black hair stuck out from his head at odd, spiky angles, and patches of sweat darkened his baby-blue shirt. Even worse, his body had swelled up, his muscles filling out and bulging with all the life, blood, and emotions he’d just sucked out of his guard.
But it was his face that was truly gruesome.
The dead guard’s blood was smeared all over Benson’s mouth, the most garish sort of lipstick imaginable, while more blood had run down his chin and spattered all over his shirt. Crimson specs even dotted the lenses of his silver glasses like dead bugs splattered all over a car windshield.
But it was his eyes that worried me the most. They pulsed a bright blue from the terrified emotions he’d sucked out of his dying guard, burning hotter than the noon sun overhead. Benson was stronger now than ever before.
And I wasn’t.
I’d already used up a good chunk of my magic just keeping him from breaking every single bone in my body. I needed to finish this, I needed to kill him, before my own magic ran out entirely, just like he said. Or I’d be the one dying in the street today.
Benson grinned, showing off his fangs, stained red with blood. “What were you saying about my winding down? I can do this all day long, Gin. But you can’t.”
I tightened my grip on my knife. “I don’t have to do it all day long. It shouldn’t take me more than another minute, two tops, to finish off the likes of you.”
Benson growled and launched himself at me again. But I was expecting the move, so I was able to sidestep at the last possible second, and he slammed into his own car instead of me, putting a bigger dent in the metal with the force of his own body than I had with Owen’s hammer.
But it didn’t slow him down for an instant. Benson let out a loud, guttural growl, reached down, hooked his hands on the bottom of his car, and flipped it over onto its side, causing the people gathered on the sidewalks to scream in surprise and terror. Benson grinned, whirled around, and took a menacing step forward, as though he were going to plunge into the crowd and do to them what he had done to his own guard. He would too, the second he felt like he needed another hit of power.
In his own way, Benson was just as much of an addict as all the people he’d gotten hooked on his drugs over the years.
He chuckled at the crowd’s fear, his eyes burning brighter than ever before. He might not be able to feed on their emotions without touching them, but he could sense their fear, and it was adding to his own twisted high. I had to distract Benson from the crowd before he attacked someone else and became too strong for me to kill, so I darted over, grabbed Owen’s hammer from where it had landed, and hurled it in his direction.
But Benson was truly hopped up on adrenaline, emotion, and blood now, and he whirled around almost too fast for me to follow. One second, he was doing his best bogeyman impression with the crowd. The next, he’d snatched Owen’s hammer out of midair. He let out an amused chuckle, then turned and hurled the weapon as hard as he could. It sailed away as free and easy as a kite, as if Benson had the strength of some Olympic god, and it didn’t stop until it clattered against the side of his mansion, knocking a chunk of stone off the side before falling to the ground.
Benson grinned at me again, his fangs seeming even bloodier than before. “And now, Gin, I think it’s time for you to die.”
Before I could move, before I could react, before I could even think about ducking, Benson was on me. I lashed out with my knife, but he let out a mocking laugh and slapped the weapon out of my hand. I palmed another knife, but Benson slapped that one away too, sending it flying through the air. It came to a stop right beside my first knife. I started to reach for the third knife in the small of my back, but Benson stepped forward, grabbed my shoulders, and slammed his head into mine.
With all of that fresh blood and emotion pumping through his veins, this blow was harder and sharper than all the others he’d landed so far. I felt like my skull had gotten run over by a Mack truck, and I lost my grip on my Stone magic.
Benson used the opening to head-butt me again.
I managed to bring enough of my magic back to bear to keep the blow from killing me outright, but my brain rattled around in my skull like a coin tumbling through a slot machine. White, gray, and black stars winked on and off in my vision, and I was flat on my back on the pavement before I realized what was happening.
I lay there, trying to blink-blink-blink the dangerous spots away and come up with some sort of plan that would let me kill Benson without getting dead myself. In my earpiece, I could hear Bria, Owen, Finn, Xavier, and Phillip all screaming at me to getup-getup-getup!, but scrambled brains aren’t great for comprehension or action.
I blinked again, and Benson was kneeling on the pavement beside me, his hand wrapped around my throat. He easily hoisted me off the ground and lifted me up into the air, so that my feet were kicking in the breeze and my gaze was level with his.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bria, Owen, and Xavier start forward, only to draw up short as Benson’s men moved in front of them, cutting them off from me.
“I don’t have the angle,” Finn yelled in my ear. “I don’t have a shot!”
“Neither do I!” Phillip yelled back.
Things had not gone my way, and my friends were still trying to save me. But they were going to be too late.
So I’d just have to save myself.
I pushed all the noise away. Finn and Phillip still screaming in my ear. Bria, Xavier, and Owen shouting from behind the guards. The excited whispers of the crowd. I ignored it all and focused on Benson. The sweaty warmth of his hand wrapped around my throat. The strength in his arm as he held me up. The hot blue glow of magic in his eyes. The bloody flecks painting his glasses. The lemony scent wafting up from his body.
It was that last one, his smell, that made me flash back to my time in his lab. Different day, same situation. Because right now, I was just as helpless as I’d been in his chair, when Benson had shoved that Burn pill down my throat and then made me swallow it—
Malevolent understanding burned through me like acid, making me grin. Because I wasn’t helpless. Not here, not now, not ever.
And I knew how I could beat Benson: the exact same way he’d beaten me.
All around us, the crowd gasped, pressing forward in anticipation of the end. They knew that this was the moment when the vamp could snap my neck with a thought, if he so chose.
Benson knew it too, because he started laughing. He turned this way and that, lifting me up higher and higher into the air for the crowd’s and his own inspection and amusement, as if I were some sort of trophy he’d won and was hoisting skyward.
But what the bastard didn’t realize was that he hadn’t won—not yet—and that I wasn’t about to let him be the end of me.
Finally, Benson quit waving my body through the air and brought me back down so that my eyes were level with his again. He stared at me, his happy face creasing into a thoughtful frown. Once again, he did that weird, tilting thing with his head, staring at me like a bird about to gobble up a worm, as if he were surprised by something I’d said, even though he had such a tight grip on my throat that I could have barely done more than croak out a few words, even if I’d wanted to crow about how I was going to kill him.
“Fascinating,” he said. “Truly fascinating.”
Benson loosened his hold on my neck and waved his free hand in front of my face. The rough, sandpaper feel of his Air magic sloughed against my body, trying to pinpoint the emotions under the surface of my skin and tear them out of me. But I didn’t let them. Instead, I reached for my Ice magic and let the cold power center me the way it had done so many times in the past.
Benson gave me a little shake, as if trying to rattle the emotions out of me, like pennies stuck to the bottom of a glass jar. I gritted my teeth as my brain sloshed around inside my skull again, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of hissing in pain. Instead, I focused on my magic, letting it make me as cold as ice—literally—from the inside out.
But my lack of response, my lack of emotion, my lack of fear, made him go from curious to enraged in a heartbeat.
“How can you be so damn calm?” he hissed. “Don’t you know that I’m seconds away from killing you? Where’s your fear? Your panic? I want your terror, Gin. Give it to me. Give it to me now.”
I rasped out a low chuckle. “Oh, sugar, do you really think that you’re the only nasty thing that’s ever had his hand around my throat? Please. This isn’t my first heavyweight bout, but it’s going to be your last.”
He shook me again, then brought his face even closer to mine, so close that I could smell the coppery stink of blood on his breath, mixed with his lemony scent, both as bitter and foul as any poison. “You should be scared, you stupid fool.”
“No,” I countered. “You should be scared. You like getting people hooked on your drugs because it makes it that much easier for you to feed on their emotions. You’re so proud of your power, of your formulas and experiments, and you think that they make you so smart, so superior to everyone else. But you’re just as much of an addict as all those poor people in your basement. You’ve been the undisputed king of Southtown for so long that you’ve forgotten one important thing—the only thing that matters right now. Kind of sad, since you so painfully reminded me of it yesterday down in your lab.”
“And what would that be?” he hissed again.
I smiled, my features even more predatory than his. “That no matter who you are—addict, assassin, or vampire—everybody needs air to breathe, even you.”
I shoved my hand out so that I was touching his right cheek, cupping it almost the way a lover might.
Then I unleashed my Ice magic on the bastard.
A silver light flared between us, leaking out from the spider rune scar branded in the center of my palm. For a moment, the light was so intense that I couldn’t even see Benson standing in front of me. But I didn’t need to see him, because I could feel my magic, and I directed it at him with all the force of an arctic blizzard.
In an instant, his skin was severely frostbitten and even bluer than his eyes. He drew in a breath, and the air crystallized and froze deep in his lungs, killing all of that precious tissue. And then, for the coup de resistance, I coated his entire face with three inches of elemental Ice, a trick I’d learned from Bria.
By the time I dropped my hand, Benson looked like he was wearing a bubble of bluish glass over his face. His hand slipped from my throat, and he staggered back, beating and clawing at the elemental Ice on his face. I dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, but I was already pushing the pain away and coming back up onto my hands and knees. I lashed out with my foot, driving it into the side of Benson’s knee, and then I sent out a burst of Stone magic, cracking the pavement under his feet.
This time, he was the one who landed flat on his back. Using his enhanced strength, Benson finally broke through the Ice on his face and started sucking down some much-needed oxygen, his breath coming in painful rasps, given how much of his lungs I’d just destroyed. While he was busy wheezing, I flattened my hands against the asphalt and reached for my power.
I didn’t have a fancy chair to help me subdue the vampire, but I didn’t need one. Benson might be the king of Southtown, but the foundation of everything around us was made of stone—my element, the one that I was queen of.
Like the street he was lying on.
So I pressed my palms into the pavement and sent my Stone magic racing through it, causing more and more of the asphalt to crack-crack-crack-crack. And then I poured even more of my power into the pavement, causing all those broken bits of stone to rise up and come together again, until they formed five specific shapes.
Shackles.
Using my magic, I clamped a Stone shackle around each of Benson’s arms and legs and his neck, then sank them down deep into the asphalt, as though they were about to pull him down into the center of the earth along with them. For extra insurance, I coated each shackle with three inches of elemental Ice, so that even if Benson could use his strength to break through the restraints, he’d still have to expend even more energy to get through the Ice too.
The vamp must have already used up a good portion of the dead guard’s blood and emotions, because he heaved and bucked and thrashed against my improvised restraints, but he couldn’t break free of them.
Just like I hadn’t been able to break free of the ones in his lab.
Desperate, Benson looked at me, his fingers crawling across the broken stone, trying to touch me so he could siphon off enough of my emotions to escape. Well, he was finally going to get his wish, since I was more than ready to open up about my feelings.
I went down on one knee beside the vamp, staring at him as dispassionately as he had stared at me in his lab. Then I slowly drew the knife from the small of my back and tapped the point of it against my cheek, as if I were considering all the secrets of the universe.
“Tell me, Beau,” I drawled. “How does it feel to be completely helpless? What sort of emotions are you feeling right now? Hmm? Why, I think it would make for a fascinating scientific study, don’t you?”
He opened his mouth to scream or perhaps yell at his men to shoot me, but before he could, I raised my knife and slammed it into his heart.
“Why, I do believe that’s agonizing discomfort you’re experiencing,” I murmured. “Every nerve ending in your body probably feels like it’s on fire right now. Sort of how I felt when you pumped me full of Burn.”