Not just any knife—my knife.

   I used the tip of the knife to jiggle the satchel. Sure enough, more clank-clanks rang out, telling me that more knives were in the bag, probably the other four that I’d been carrying when I was captured. I wondered what Rivera and Porter had done with my knives and especially why the man in black would bring them to me. I didn’t know, and right now, I didn’t care.

   I dragged the satchel even closer and hooked my arm through the loops, so that I wouldn’t lose it and no one could take it away from me. Then, my knife in my hand, I closed my eyes and drifted off again . . .

   “Gin!” a voice shouted. “Gin!”

   My eyes snapped open. Once again, a man dressed in black was standing over me. But this man dropped to his knees in the mud right beside me, and Owen’s face came into focus right above mine, his violet eyes filled with worry.

   “Hey,” I rasped. “There’s no need to shout. My hearing is just about the only part of me that’s working properly right now.”

   He laughed at my black humor, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my cold lips. He pulled back, and I realized that my friends were gathered around me in a tight circle—Owen, Bria, Finn, Silvio, and Jo-Jo. They were all staring down at me, horrified expressions on their faces, their gazes fixed on the makeup smeared all over my face and especially my unnatural blond hair.

   “Where’s Jade?” I asked. “And Elissa?”

   Jo-Jo dropped down beside me. “They’re at the salon, along with Sophia and Dr. Colson. Now, we need to take you there too, darling. I’m going to heal you up enough so that we can move you.” She took my hand, sympathy filling her eyes. “I won’t lie, Gin. This is going to hurt.”

   I grinned up at her. “Do your worst. After the night I’ve had, it will feel like a picnic.”

   She smiled back at me, then gently pried my knife out of my cold, stiff fingers. She handed it over to Finn. He eyed the satchel, obviously wondering where it had come from, but he slipped it off my arm and put the knife in the bag with all the others.

   “All right, then. Here we go, darling,” Jo-Jo said.

   She smiled at me again, and then her eyes began to glow a milky-white, and her Air magic gusted over me.

   The sharp, pricking pins and needles of Jo-Jo’s Air magic flooded my body, filling in the cracks in my ribs, soothing out all my many bumps, cuts, and bruises, even easing the pounding pressure and cottony, disconnected feeling in my head. She was right. Getting everything healed hurt just as much as hitting the ground had, and I had to grind my teeth to keep from screaming. Owen held my hand through the whole thing. He didn’t wince, not even once, despite the intense pressure I was putting on his fingers.

   Finally, about ten minutes later, Jo-Jo’s eyes cleared, and the uncomfortable sensation of her Air magic vanished. I lay in the mud another minute, just getting my breath back. Then I held my hand out, and Owen helped me sit up and eventually stand on my own two feet. But I wobbled so badly that he scooped me up into his arms. Still, I felt much better than before, and I could actually focus again.

   I looked down at Bruce Porter—or what was left of him. The dwarf was in the same position as before, his body broken from the fall and his sightless eyes staring up into the night sky. But what made my stomach twist was his mouth. He’d coughed up so much blood that his mouth was a dark red stain against the rest of his face, almost as if he’d painted his own lips with Heartbreaker lipstick.

   I shivered, and Owen pulled me a little closer.

   “What do you want to do about Porter?” Silvio asked.

   I didn’t even have to think about it. “Leave him. Out here in the open, just like he left all those poor girls. The bastard doesn’t deserve a proper burial.”

   And that’s exactly what we did. One by one, we looked at the Dollmaker a final time, then turned and left him behind, as bloody, broken, and dead as his victims.

28

   I didn’t remember everything that happened after that. Just bits and pieces. Owen carrying me along the riverbank. Jo-Jo keeping a close eye on me, making sure that I was healed well enough to keep going. Bria, Finn, and Silvio asking me questions. Me babbling and babbling, trying to tell them what had happened. I didn’t know if they understood everything I said, but I thought they got the gist of what had gone down with Tucker, Rivera, and Porter.

   “Rivera,” I said at one point. “We need to go back to the mansion. We need to get Rivera before he gets away . . .”

   “Don’t worry about Rivera,” Bria said in a grim voice. “I’m working on a warrant to arrest that son of a bitch, and Xavier is watching the mansion. Rivera’s not going anywhere.”

   “But we have to get him now . . .”

   “No, darling,” Jo-Jo said in a firm voice. “We have to get you out of here. Rivera can wait.”

   I’d never been able to argue with Jo-Jo, and I was still a little out of it, so I fell silent. But my mind churned, plotting the best way to go after Rivera as soon as possible.

   Eventually, the high, jagged cliffs dwindled down to a small hill, and we were able to climb back up into the woods and leave the Rivera estate far, far behind. Owen tucked me into his car, and the next thing I knew, Bria was helping me get into the shower, and I was crawling into bed in one of the guest rooms at Jo-Jo’s house. I fell asleep almost immediately, and for once, no nightmares disturbed me.

   Sometime late the next morning, sounds started intruding on my peaceful slumber. Namely, the bedroom door opening and someone tiptoeing inside, trying to be quiet, although he stepped on a creaky floorboard, totally ruining the surprise. I rolled over onto my side and opened my eyes to see Owen standing by the foot of the bed, holding a tray full of food.

   “Hey,” I said, my voice still thick with sleep.

   “Hey, yourself. It’s almost noon, but I thought you might want some breakfast.”