Black Widow (24 page)

More and more
snap
s,
bang
s, and
rattle-rattle
s sounded. Even though I burned with curiosity to see what was going on, I didn't dare rise up and peak over the side of the Dumpster. That was a sure way to be spotted. I'd recovered some of my strength and magic, but I had no doubt that Madeline was still lurking around somewhere, along with a large contingent of cops, all of whom would be more than happy to shoot me on sight.

Eventually, I heard enough noises and snatches of conversation to realize that the firefighters were using a metal saw and some crowbars to cut through the locks on the back door of the building. The
bang
ing got louder and louder, until a loud, violent
screech
sounded, and everyone let out happy cheers of relief and accomplishment.

The door was open.

After that, more and more footsteps sounded, moving back and forth and all around my position in the Dumpster. I held my breath, but once again no one bothered to look inside the container.

Finally, a shout rang out from the back of the restaurant. “We've got a body in here!”

“No!” The sharp, thin scream immediately rose up. “No! It can't be!”

My heart lurched as I recognized Bria's voice. My baby sister was here, and she thought that the body was mine.

She thought that I was dead.

Of course she was here. She'd probably been here all night, along with Finn and Owen and the rest of our friends. They'd probably watched the flames consume the Pork Pit, their hearts twisting just like mine was right now as they realized that I was trapped inside and that there was nothing they could do to help me. I'd been so focused on surviving the fire and finding a place to hide, as well as confused and exhausted from the smoke inhalation, that I hadn't thought to let them know that I was okay.

So I dug into my jeans pocket and pulled out the burner phone that I'd used to call Owen last night. But I must have been clumsier than I'd thought getting out of the Pork Pit and into the Dumpster because the screen was cracked, and the phone was dead.

Damn it!
I silently cursed. My hand curled around the phone, and I wanted nothing more than to smash it against the side of the Dumpster, since it was as useless as the rest of the garbage in here. But I couldn't do that.

“You have to let me see her!” Bria's agonized voice rang out through the alley again. “You have to let me in there!”

The scuffle of footsteps sounded, followed by some more shouts.

“Ma'am!” a loud, booming voice called out. “Ma'am!
You need to stay back. You can't be here right now, Detective.”

My heart lurched again. Chance of discovery be damned. I had to see what was going on, and I had to try to let Bria and the others know that I was still alive.

Still keeping my head well below the edge of the container and being as quiet as possible, I crawled over to the opposite side of the Dumpster, the one that was the closest to the back door of the Pork Pit. I looked left and right and up and down until I spotted what I wanted—a small hole that had rusted into the side of the metal, close to one of the corners.

I drew in a soft breath, then leaned down and peered through the opening.

The quarter-size hole was about five feet off the ground, and the angle and position of the Dumpster let me see the open back door of the restaurant and the crowd of people milling around the alley beyond it—including Bria, Finn, Silvio, Xavier, and Owen.

Faces tight, eyes red and weary, shoulders slumped. The five of them stood in a row against the wall opposite the Pork Pit, their backs resting against the dirty bricks as if those were the only things holding them upright. Finn had his arms wrapped around Bria, who'd obviously been crying, while Xavier had his hand on Silvio's shoulder. Owen stood a few feet away, his phone clutched in his hand as if he were waiting for me to keep my promise and call him at any second.

My stomach churned with hot, bitter acid at their obvious heartache and suffering. If only I hadn't broken my phone, I could have at least texted Owen and told him
where I was hiding and why. But I had no way to communicate with him or the others.

So close, so far away.

Minutes passed, then dragged into more than an hour. And still, cops, firefighters, and other officials kept moving through the alley and all around the Dumpster before going into the restaurant and streaming back out again. Fletcher had taught me to be patient, but it was almost more than even I could bear, knowing that my loved ones thought that I was dead, seeing the doubt, agony, shock, and suffering on their faces, and not being able to tell them that I was alive.

Finally, the coroner arrived and went into the restaurant. Ten more minutes ticked by before he came back out again. He shot Bria a sympathetic look, then turned to the cop in charge of the scene.

“There is definitely a body inside . . .” The coroner's voice trailed off. “And it looks to be female from my preliminary examination.”

“No! No! No . . .”

Bria screamed and screamed before burying her face in Finn's chest, her voice trailing off into loud, ugly, heartbreaking sobs. Tears streamed down Finn's face. Xavier's too, and even Silvio dabbed at the corners of his eyes. Owen remained still and stoic, although his fingers curled a little tighter around his phone, almost as if he were willing it to ring to prove everyone wrong.

I closed my eyes, and my heart twisted into cold, hard, guilty, shameful knots. I didn't want to put my friends through the torture of thinking that I was dead, but I couldn't leave my hiding place either. Otherwise, everything
that I'd been through inside the Pork Pit would have been for nothing. So as much as it pained me to do so, I held my position and forced myself to open my eyes and keep watching through my peephole.

But even as Bria's screams died down into gut-wrenching sobs, the speculative whispers started, the way I knew they would, and soon everyone in the alley was chattering about the burned body.

“Is it Blanco? Is she really dead?”

“Looks that way.”

“Didn't think the Spider would go out like that. . . .”

And on and on it went.

Every muttered comment, every soft word, and every harsh, mocking laugh made me grind my teeth together. Even though I knew that it was crazy, part of me wanted to leap up in the Dumpster and scream
Boo!
as loud as I could. It would serve the gawking, jabbering ghouls right to get the shit scared out of them.

But I swallowed down my anger and held my position, even though the growing heat of the day baked me like a potato inside the Dumpster, as well as intensifying the reek of the garbage. Soon, the sour, putrid stench became so foul that even a thick layer of Jo-Jo's ointment all around my nose couldn't block it out.

While I waited, I planned my revenge.

Madeline had spent weeks setting her grand scheme into motion. Framing Bria and Eva. Causing business problems for Roslyn, Owen, Finn, and Jo-Jo. Coercing her maid into trying to kill me. Getting the Pork Pit shut down with that ridiculous health inspection. Bribing Dobson to put me in the bull pen. That had all taken
time, energy, and money to pull off, and I wanted the same time to think and plan and plot.

But most of all, with my supposed death, I wanted to see what Madeline would do next.

Now that I was out of her way, there was nothing to stop her from assuming Mab's position as head of the Ashland underworld, and she would make sure that all of the crime bosses knew that she was the one who'd so thoughtfully, elegantly orchestrated my death. They might grumble about it under their breath, but the other bosses would have no choice but to bow down to their new queen, or she would kill them the same way that she'd supposedly killed me.

So I huddled in the Dumpster and thought through all the implications, wondering how I could stop Madeline's reign of terror once and for all. The acid elemental was smart, clever, and cunning. So far, she'd been three steps ahead of me in our little game, and as soon as she realized that I was still alive, she'd start scheming more than ever before.

But what would she do if I
stayed
dead?

She would gloat and preen and then turn her attention to other matters, like solidifying her hold on the underworld. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my death was the key to taking her down. I needed to hit Madeline the same way that she had me—completely blindside and bulldoze her until she was buried six feet under.

I wasn't quite sure how I was going to go about doing that yet, but one thing was for certain.

I was sure as hell looking forward to it.

*  *  *

People streamed in and out of the alley the rest of the day as my supposed body was loaded up and carted away, and the Pork Pit was officially condemned as a safety hazard. To help keep my strength up, I guzzled down a bottle of water and ate some of the granola bars that were in the zippered pockets of my duffel bag. Then I made myself as comfortable as possible and dozed on and off through all the noise. That was the only thing I could do.

Finally, night fell, and the clamor and commotion around the restaurant faded away. About an hour after the sun set, I felt safe enough to get to my feet and peer over the side of the Dumpster.

The alley was deserted.

I looked left and right, scanning the shadows, but all of the cops, firefighters, and other officials had vanished, along with all of the curious passersby. Of course they had. Everyone thought that I was dead. There was no reason to stick around and gawk anymore.

So I climbed out of the Dumpster, rotten bits of food and other disgusting garbage dripping off my cold, sweaty, soot-streaked clothes. As soon as my feet touched the cracked pavement, I slid behind the container, out of sight of anyone who might glance down or even enter the alley.

The night was cool, and I was stiff and sore from staying in the same cramped position for so long. So I spent a few minutes bending and stretching to get the blood flowing back to every part of my body. Then I had to take care of the pressing matter of my lady business.

Once that was done, I dug a couple of tins of Jo-Jo's
healing ointment out of my duffel bag and smeared the soothing concoction all over the injuries I hadn't been able to reach before now. I sighed as the soft pins-and-needles of her healing magic traveled up and down my body. I'd never liked the feel of Jo-Jo's power, as her Air magic was the opposite of my Ice and Stone power, but those small stabs reminded me that I was still alive and that this wasn't all some crazy dream.

When I felt like I could actually move without groaning in pain, I dropped to a knee, opened up my bag even wider, and surveyed the items inside. I'd used up all of Jo-Jo's healing ointment, and I only had a bottle of water and one granola bar left. Several of my extra knives glinted in the bag, nestled inside the piles of clothes and money.

I stared at my supplies, thinking about my next move. I didn't have a phone, and it wasn't like I could walk into one of the nearby businesses and ask to use one. Not when I'd been sitting in a Dumpster all day. The owners would think that I was a homeless bum, trying to scrounge around for some free airtime. They wouldn't be too far from the truth. Besides, someone might recognize me, and I couldn't afford to let that happen. Madeline thought that I was dead, and I had to take advantage of her ignorance for as long as and as best I could. If I squandered this opportunity, I'd be right back where I started—waiting for Madeline to strike out at me and mine.

But I desperately needed to let Owen, Bria, Finn, and the others know that I was okay. Since I didn't have a phone and couldn't risk trying to find one, that meant a hike up into Northtown to locate my friends. But where would they be? Jo-Jo's salon, most likely, or maybe Owen's
mansion. Someplace where they could all gather and plan what to do next.

Owen would be coldly furious, Bria would want to try to arrest Madeline, and Finn would be demanding that they all load up and let him put a bullet in the acid elemental's head. As tempting as that last thought was, it still wouldn't solve my problems with the underworld bosses, although I thought there was something that would get them and Madeline off my back at the same time. Either way, I had to get to my friends before they went off the rails and declared war on Madeline.

But how to get from here to there without being seen? Oh, I had enough money to take a cab, and I could always steal a car, but I wanted to keep my exposure to a minimum. That meant no cabs, no breaking and entering, no stealing, and no drawing any attention to myself whatsoever. But I couldn't exactly stroll down the streets covered in garbage . . .

Or could I?

I looked at the Dumpster in front of me, then down at my clothes, which were soaked, soiled, and slathered with all sorts of things better left to the imagination. Burning would be too good for the filthy garments, but maybe I could get one more use out of them.

I stripped off all of my dirty clothes, shivering in the cool dark of the alley as I shimmied into clean underwear, jeans, socks, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. But I didn't stop there. I kept pulling and pulling on clothes, until I was wearing every single item in the bag—all the socks, all the T-shirts, even a silverstone vest—and resembled some sort of marshmallow person. Then, as a final touch,
I put my soiled T-shirt back on top of all the clean layers that I was wearing. I hated to do it, and it almost made me vomit up the granola bars I'd eaten earlier, but no one was going to look too closely at me when I was reeking of so much garbage.

I didn't bother wiping any of the soot and grime off my face, since I wanted my features to be as dirty and hard to recognize as possible. I also had a black knit toboggan in my bag. As a final touch, I stuffed my nasty brown hair up under the toboggan, then pulled the edge down low over my forehead, hiding even more of my face from sight.