"Eva - " he started.

"Gin's house is the safest place I know," she said, her voice trembling just a bit. "I need to feel safe right now, Owen, and I won't at home. Not when I know Salina's back in Ashland and that she could show up at the house at any time - that you'd let her into the house at any time."

Owen opened his mouth to argue.

"It's okay," I cut in. "You both know you're welcome to stay with me anytime. I'd love to have the company."

I didn't add that them coming home with me tonight was for the best anyway, since we had a lot to talk about.

"Fine," Owen muttered. "We'll stay with Gin tonight. But don't think this gets you out of the punishment you have coming for going behind my back and talking to Phillip."

Eva's eyes narrowed, and the siblings glared at each other. Normally, the two of them got along like gang-busters, but whatever had happened in the past had driven a Kincaid-specific wedge between them, one that was still there, even now, all these years later.

Sophia offered to take Violet home. Violet and Eva hugged and exchanged a few whispers before Violet got into Sophia's car, and the two of them left. I wasn't surprised when Eva immediately pivoted in her flip-flops, marched over to Finn's Escalade, threw open the door, and got into the passenger's seat without another word - or a single glance at her brother. I looked at Owen, who just shrugged, letting me know it was fine.

"I'll follow you over there," he said, then pulled me into his arms. "I'm just glad you're safe, Gin."

My arms tightened around him, and I breathed in deep, letting his rich scent, the one that always made me think of metal, fill my nose. For a moment, I let myself forget about everything that had happened tonight and just concentrated on Owen - on the feel of his hands on my back, his warm body next to mine, his lips resting against my temple.

Then I exhaled and put all those soft emotions away, because the night wasn't over yet, and I still hadn't gotten the answers to any of my questions - answers that I needed now more than ever.

I drew back and looked at him. "I'll see you at Fletcher's. Don't worry. We'll straighten everything out."

Owen nodded and headed across the parking lot to his car. I rounded the Escalade and opened the driver's door. But before I got inside, I looked up.

Phillip Kincaid was leaning over the railing of the Delta Queen. The bright globes on the decks above him made his slicked back hair gleam like gold, even as the lights cast his features in darkness and caused his long, ominous shadow to stretch out onto the boardwalk below. No doubt he'd seen the whole thing - Owen and Eva arguing, Eva getting into my car, Owen leaving. I wondered what the casino boss thought of all that, if he'd been pleased Eva had taken his side over her brother's, if he even knew why she'd done such a thing in the first place.

Kincaid raised his hand to his forehead and gave me a mock salute before stepping away from the railing and disappearing from sight. Once again, I wondered what game he was playing - and why I had a feeling he wasn't quite the monster Owen said he was.

Chapter 12

Eva didn't say a word in the twenty minutes it took for me to drive across town. Instead, she stared out the window and brooded. I didn't try to question her. There would be plenty of time for that at home.

I turned off the road and steered the Escalade up the rough gravel driveway, leaning into the familiar lumps and bumps as the SUV rocked from side to side. In my rearview mirror, the headlights on Owen's car bounced up and down as he did the same thing. Eventually, both vehicles chugged to the top of the ridge, and Fletcher's place came into view.

The old man had left me his ramshackle house, and the sight of it never failed to lift my spirits, even after a night like this one. A light burned on the front porch, illuminating the white clapboard, brown brick, and gray stone that joined together at crazy angles to form the sprawling structure. The house had passed through a lot of hands over the years, and each of the folks who'd lived here before had added on a room or two onto the structure; hence the mishmash of materials and styles.

The house looked quite a bit worse for wear these days, thanks to all the bullet holes that peppered the front and sides like tiny black eyes. Back in the winter, bounty hunters hot on the trail of the Spider had laid siege to the house. I was still digging bullets out, but I didn't mind. Fletcher had spent years fortifying his home to withstand just such a standoff, and it had more than held up against the hail of gunfire.

Still, that didn't mean someone couldn't be lurking around, waiting to make a run at me. Most of the fools who came after the Spider limited their murderous attempts to the Pork Pit, but a few of the braver ones had sought me out here at home. I supposed I could have moved to some anonymous apartment where folks would have a harder time finding me, but the house was one of the last pieces of Fletcher that I had left, and I'd be damned if anyone was going to make me leave it behind.

"Stay in the car for a minute," I told Eva as I opened the door and got out.

I motioned for Owen to sit tight in his vehicle as well, then walked around the SUV, placing myself between it and the house. My eyes swept over the landscape, from the black maw of the woods on my left to the flat yard that stretched out to my right before abruptly falling away in a series of jagged cliffs.

I didn't see any dark figures or shadows that weren't supposed to be there, although I did spot Finn's silver Aston Martin parked on the far side of the house, which meant he was inside already. Good. Hopefully by now Finn had information on Salina that would shed some light on who she was - and why Owen and Eva were mixed up with her and Kincaid.

As a final precaution, I reached out with my Stone magic, listening to the gravel underfoot in the driveway, the rocks scattered at the edge of the woods, and the brick, granite, and concrete that made up the house. But the stones only whispered back of the cars rolling over them, the animals scurrying to and fro in the underbrush, and the spring heat that was building bit by bit and would soon bake them once more.

Satisfied we were safe, I gestured to the others that it was okay for them to get out of the cars. I led Eva and Owen over to the front door, which was made out of solid black granite. The door was strong enough by itself, but thick veins of silverstone also swirled through the stone, adding another layer of protection. No matter how much water magic Salina had, she'd have a tough time using it to blast through the door or pry apart the silverstone bars that covered the windows.

I'd just started to reach for the knob, when the door abruptly opened. Finn stepped outside, a manila file folder tucked under one arm and a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, despite the warmth of the night. The chicory fumes drifted over to me, making think of his father, since Fletcher had drunk the same rich, dark concoction before he'd died. I wished the old man was here tonight to help me sort out what was going on - and how I could make everything right again, especially between me and Owen.

Despite the fact that I was the one standing right in front of him, Finn leaned to one side and favored Eva with a dazzling smile.

"Why, hello, Eva," he said in a smooth tone. "You're looking exceptionally fine this evening. Love the flip-flops."

Finnegan Lane was many things - an investment banker, an information trader, a greedy connoisseur of all the fine things his ill-gotten gains could buy him, but sometimes, I thought his chief pursuit in life was that of a shameless womanizer. He might have been involved with Bria, but Finn still liked to charm all the women who crossed his path. And he didn't limit his attention to just the pretty ones. No, Finn was an equal-opportunity flirt - old, young, fat, thin, vampire, human, dwarf, giant. Finn didn't care who they were or what they looked like as long as they were female.

"Hi, Finn," Eva replied.

She gave him a wan smile, and the small encouragement caused Finn's grin to widen that much more. At least, until Owen stepped forward and frowned at him.

"Ah, evening, Owen," Finn added in a hasty tone. "I didn't see you standing there."

"You never do," Owen murmured.

Finn stuck his head outside a little more, scanning the front porch. "Where's Kincaid? I thought Gin would hog-tie him and bring him here so we could question him at our leisure."

Eva and Owen both shifted on their feet. No one said anything. The faint hum of the crickets and cicadas hidden in the grass rose up, but their high-pitched songs did little to ease the tension between us all.

"Well," Finn drawled, "don't everyone speak up at once."

"You have no idea," I muttered. "No idea at all."

I walked inside, down a hallway, and into the den in the back of the house. Owen trailed right along behind me, but Eva dawdled behind us, peering into all the rooms that branched off the hallway and staring at all the furniture that was stuffed inside. Even though she'd been here before, there was always something to look at that she hadn't noticed before. Fletcher had been a bit of a pack rat, and lots of odd dishes, interesting carvings, unusual sculptures, and other quirky knickknacks crowded into the rooms. The old man had been dead for months now, and I still hadn't had the heart to go through much of the house. Throwing away his things seemed like I would be ripping part of Fletcher out of my heart as well - and that was something I just couldn't bear to do yet.

We reached the den, with its worn furniture, but instead of sitting down, Eva went over to the mantel, where a series of framed drawings were propped up, the runes of my family members - dead and otherwise. A snowflake, an ivy vine, a primrose. Eva walked past the first three runes before stopping to look closer at the fourth one, a neon pig.

"I like the Pork Pit sign the best," she said. "It makes me think of how I first met you in the restaurant."

I smiled at her. "Me too, sweetheart."

The sign also reminded me of Fletcher and everything he'd given me, everything he'd taught me over the years. I stared at the drawing and let myself remember the old man for a moment before putting those memories away and focusing on the here and now.

"Y'all make yourselves comfortable," I said. "I'm going to fix us a snack."

Once again, nobody said anything. Eva kept looking at the runes, while Owen sat down on the end of the plaid couch and turned on the television, staring at it without really seeing it. I jerked my head at Finn, who followed me into the kitchen.

Finn put the folder he'd been carrying down on the table, right next to his open laptop, then poured himself what was probably his fifteenth cup of coffee of the day. I started pulling things out of the cabinets, in the mood for something sweet, crispy, and crunchy, all at the same time. Besides, cooking almost always soothed me. The simple motions of mixing, measuring, and stirring comforted me and gave me time to work out whatever was bothering me - and there were plenty of things on my mind tonight.

Home-canned apples, flour, buttermilk, salt, sugar, and more soon crowded onto the counter, and I filled a pan with oil and let it start warming on the stove. I combined the flour and buttermilk to form a soft, sticky dough, used my biscuit cutter to divide it up, and rolled out the sections into several, large, flat rounds. A heaping scoop of apples went into the center of each piece of dough, which I then folded over, crimping the edges together with a fork, making a half-moon-shaped pie.

I repeated the process until I'd made a dozen pies. Then, one by one, I dropped them into the sizzling oil and let them cook until they were light, fluffy, and golden brown. When they were done, I slid the fried apple goodness onto a plate.

"So lay it out for me," I finally said to Finn as I topped the pies off with powdered sugar, cinnamon, and a few drizzles of sourwood honey.

He snatched one of the pies off the plate before I could stop him. "Don't you want to wait until we go back in the den with the others?"

I shook my head. "No, I want to hear what you have to say first without any interruptions. Eva and Owen aren't exactly objective here. You should have seen Eva after Salina worked her magic on Antonio and then tried to do the same to Kincaid. She was terrified. Yeah, watching Antonio get wrung dry wasn't exactly pleasant, but it seemed like there was more to Eva's reaction than just simple shock, fear, and disgust. So tell me what you found out about Salina."

"Nothing good," Finn said in a quiet voice, making sure his words wouldn't carry into the den, where Eva and Owen were. "From what I can tell, Salina Dubois has never worked a day in her life - she hasn't had to, thanks to all her husbands."

"'Husbands'? As in, more than one?"

Finn nodded and took a bite of his pie. "Since leaving Ashland, Salina has had not one, not two, not three, but four husbands. Each one richer than the last, and each one dead under suspicious circumstances. Hubby number one, Rodgers, slipped and fell in the bathtub, cracking his skull open. Numbers two and three, Smythe and Steele, died in boating accidents. Number four, Henley, drowned while swimming in his own pool. He managed to make it all the way to his third anniversary with Salina. None of the others lasted more than two years with her."

"So she's a black widow, then," I murmured. "One who likes to use her water magic to kill her husbands for their money, because she's bored with them, or for whatever other reason she might have."

Finn polished off his pie and shot his thumb and forefinger at me. "Bingo. All of the deaths were suspicious, though the police could never pin anything on Salina. Along the way, she's collected an impressive fortune in insurance money, as well as what her hubbies left her in their wills. If I had to guess, I'd say that money is helping fund her return to Ashland. That might even be why she married all these men in the first place."