Thread of Death Read Online Free

food into Jake’s face when he’d charged at her. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t done myself—more than once, truth be told—but the action still surprised me. It seemed so violent, so vicious, so at odds with the calm mask she’d worn up until that point.
    Oh, yes. I should have known there were hidden depths to Ms. Blanco from that very first day.
    I warned Blanco what would happen if she decided to do the foolish thing and stand up against me, but she seemed almost delighted by the prospect of taking me on. Another clue I should have seen back then. Still, I wasn’t too worried about her—until Jake’s body was discovered in a bathtub at Mab’s mansion.
    It didn’t surprise me that my son would die in such a sudden, violent manner. Jake never could keep his mouth shut or stay out of trouble, and it was only a matter of time before the spoiled brat pissed off the wrong person. But the location was certainly shocking. I thought Mab was going to kill me right there in the bathtub, along with Jake, for bringing such embarrassment to her. Murdering someone inside Mab’s mansion . . . well, only she was allowed to do that. Everyone in Ashland knew that you stayed on your best behavior whenever you were at Mab’s. But Blanco didn’t seem to care. I never figured out if she’d killed Jake just for spite or if my son had threatened her again in some way that night. Probably both.
    I immediately suspected Blanco had had something to do withJake’s death, given his problems with her, although I couldn’t figure out how she had gotten past security and into the mansion. She certainly wasn’t the sort of person who normally got an invitation to one of Mab’s parties. Despite my suspicions that she was somehow involved, no one believed me and no one listened to me—not Mab and not Elliot. But I knew in my heart who had killed my son, and I was determined to get my revenge. I might not have particularly cared for Jake—might have always found him to be a bitter disappointment, a small-minded buffoon with no self-discipline or real ambition—but he was still my son, and nobody messed with the McAllisters.
    Ever since then, planning Ms. Blanco’s death was an amusing pastime of mine. I was quite happy when Elliot finally beat and questioned her about Jake’s death one night at the community college. But Blanco’s fake whimpers, crocodile tears, and ragged whispers of fear fooled the others, and Mab didn’t let Elliot kill her then the way I wanted him to. Now the giant was dead—blasted to hell with a shotgun, thanks to Blanco—and so was Mab.
    I stared at the portrait of the Fire elemental. Even in death, her face was as familiar to me as my own. Sometimes it felt like I’d spent a lifetime intensely staring at Mab’s features, trying to interpret what the slightest quirk of her mouth or the faintest lift of her eyebrow really meant. I’d had to, in order to keep her happy without getting burned myself—in more ways than one. Mab had never been shy about showing her anger—and magic—to those who displeased her.
    In some ways, I was relieved she was dead. I’d been her father Marcus’s lawyer first, and when Mab killed him in an elemental duel and took over his business interests, I quickly swore my allegiance to her in the name of self-preservation. I think it amused her to keep me on, knowing that I would do anything to please her—and anything to save myself from her fiery wrath.
    Still, it was never easy working for Mab. More than once, I went into a room with her wondering if I would live to walk out of it again. And more than once, I saw her use her Fire magic to its full and deadliest effect. I never quite got used to the stench and sizzle of burning flesh, but those things might as well have been Mab’s perfume and anthem, as often as I smelled and heard them over the years.
    The stress of working for her father and then Mab herself took its toll—aging me before my time. I was gray by the