“Mama?” Opal whispered.
Then she pitched forward, her body landing with a dull thump on the walkway. The current had dragged Dixon’s body over to where Opal was, and her hand slid forward into the water and landed on his broad back, almost as if she were reaching down to try to fish him out of the river.
Silence.
Clementine stood in the middle of the main walkway, slowly swaying from side to side. After a moment, she shuffled forward until she was standing over the bodies of her daughter and her nephew.
“Opal . . . Dixon . . .” she whispered.
While Clementine was caught up in her grief, I eased back the way I’d come, circling all the way around until I was standing in the front of the boathouse right next to the statue of the old man fishing. I didn’t want the giant to make a sudden move, charge past me, go after Owen and Eva, and try to get her revenge that way. No, this ended right here, right now. I watched her the whole time, just watched and waited for the rage that was sure to come.
To my surprise, a welling of tears cascaded down Clementine’s face, and she looked every one of her fifty-eight years as she stared down at the bodies.
“Opal . . . Dixon . . .” she said again, her voice dull and small. “They were the only family I had left.”
I hadn’t thought she would be so emotional, given how I’d seen her threaten, bully, and intimidate Opal and Dixon earlier tonight, but apparently, she’d cared about them more than I’d realized.
“You killed them. You killed them both,” she murmured.
Clementine raised her eyes to mine. Hate brightened her hazel gaze, and her mass of curls bristled around her head, giving her a wild, crazed look, like a rabid animal with its fur up, one that was about to attack. And I knew that there was only one thing that would satisfy her now: my blood.
Good. Because I felt the same way about her.
“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” I said, taunting her. “Let’s hope you have more fight in you than Opal there did. Why, I didn’t even break a sweat cutting her down.”
Clementine’s lips flattened out, her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed to slits. It was the same murderous expression I’d noticed earlier, when she’d been browbeating Opal and Dixon outside the vault. The mottled flush of her skin and her low, breathy snarls told me just how fully enraged she was, like a bull about to charge at a matador waving a red cape—or rather me in my ruined red dress.
“Come on,” I taunted her again. “Come on, already. What are you waiting for? Let’s dance, bitch.”
“You wanna dance?” Clementine asked, her hands closing into fists as she slowly advanced on me. “By the time I get done with you, there won’t even be any bones left to feed the fish.”
“Come over here and say that again, sugar.”
She let out a loud roar and charged forward.
25
I raised my blades and let her come to me. I also reached for my Stone magic and used it to harden my skin. Despite my mockery of her, Clementine was a dangerous enemy, made even more so by the grief, rage, and adrenaline pumping through her veins right now. I needed to put her down as quickly as possible, or I’d be in a world of hurt.
When she was in range, I stepped forward and slashed out with my knives, determined to end her with that first strike. But Clementine anticipated my plan and sidestepped me at the last second, so my weapons only sliced through empty air. I whirled around for another strike, but Clementine was already moving, moving, moving. Her fist slammed into my jaw, spinning me around and making a few stars wink on and off before my eyes. I stumbled back, but I managed to stay upright and keep my grip on my Stone magic.
Clementine came at me again, her fists raised in a classic boxer’s stance. For the better part of a minute, we bobbed and weaved back and forth, each one of us trying to end the other. Clementine wanted to plant her fist in my chin again, while I wanted to slice her from guts to gullet with my knives. But we both dodged this way and that, trading shallow, glancing blows and never giving each other a clear opening.
The longer we bobbed and weaved, the more I felt the dreaded exhaustion creeping up on me. My breaths grew hoarse and raspy, sweat trickled down my face, neck, and back, and my legs twitched with the effort of staying upright. It had been a long night already, and now here I was, locked in another fight to the death. Sometimes it just didn’t pay to leave the house.
Not for the Spider, anyway.
Back and forth and around and around, we do-si-doed in the front of the boathouse, neither one of us able to break through the other’s defenses.
At least, not until my boot slipped.
I didn’t know where the puddle came from. Maybe a paddleboat bumping into a docking station and spraying water everywhere, maybe a freakishly large wave arching up and spilling over onto the stone, maybe even a fish jumping in the river and doing a cannonball. But water had pooled on the marble walkway, making it as wet and slick as glass. I blocked the giant’s latest blow and stepped forward to deliver one of my own—and slipped. Even as I windmilled my arms and tried to stay upright, I lowered my guard, just for a second, and Clementine took the opening.
She slammed her fist into my face.
Since I was still holding on to my Stone magic, the blow didn’t crush my cheekbone, but it knocked me back all the same. Clementine immediately pressed her advantage. She slapped one of my knives away, then the other one. The weapons skidded along the stone walkway, the blades throwing up bright silver sparks as they tumbled end over end. Before I could reach for my other pair of knives, the giant was on top of me.
“You think you can kill my girl—my Opal—and get away with it? I’ll show you,” Clementine snarled. “I’ll show you.”
She grabbed my arms, lifted me into the air, and then slammed me into the ground with all the force she could muster. She would have splintered every bone in my back if I hadn’t had my magic to protect me. Even with my Stone power, I still felt like I’d plummeted out of a high window and hit the ground at warp speed—splat. Before I could even think about moving, much less fighting back, Clementine was straddling me.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
She pounded her fists into my body over and over again. Each punch seemed to add fuel to her rage, and every blow was harder and sharper than the one before it. Any one of them would have been enough to do major damage. The only thing saving me right now was my Stone magic and the hard shell of my skin, but that wouldn’t last long under a beating like this.
It was always a concern when fighting dwarves or giants, letting them get their hands on you. Because once they did that, it was just a matter of them wearing you down. Power was still power, whether it was a giant’s strength or an elemental’s magic. One always succumbed to the other in the end, and the loser died.
This time, the loser was going to be me.
Clementine kept hitting me and hitting me. She showed no signs of tiring. Or stopping.
But she quickly realized that something was wrong, since I wasn’t screaming with pain and gushing blood from every available surface. She snarled with disgust when she realized that her blows weren’t having the desired effect, and she finally noticed the magic glinting in my gray gaze.
“Stone magic,” she muttered. “I should have remembered that you have that. I fucking hate Stone magic. But don’t you worry. You’ll run out of that long before I get tired of hitting you.”
She stopped her assault and pulled back just long enough for me to throw my hand to the side, reach for my Ice magic, and use it to form a sharp, cold knife. I raised the weapon and drove it into her chest, but since I was flat on my back, I couldn’t put enough muscle behind the thrust to make it do any real damage.