We sat there in companionable silence for several minutes eating breakfast and enjoying each other's company. After we finished our first round of food, Owen looked at me.

"You want to tell me about it?" he asked in a quiet tone. "I've already seen the version on the early morning news. Quite a display you put on up there on the mountaintop."

"That's me," I said in a wry voice. "A real showwoman."

I told him everything. The problems Roslyn Phillips had been having with Elliot Slater, the giant threatening to kill Roslyn's family unless she came to him, my rush to save her. The only thing I changed was the ending, taking credit for killing Slater instead of laying that at Roslyn's feet. The vamp had been through enough already.

Owen sat there, chewing his pancakes, and listening to my b.l.o.o.d.y tale. "So is it over then?" he asked. "Are you back to being retired now?"

I looked at Owen, with his rumpled black hair and solid chest peeking out of the gap in his white robe. It would be so easy to lie to him. To say of course it was over now. That I was going to spend the rest of my days slinging barbecue down at the Pork Pit. But my lie wouldn't last long. Owen had his own sources of information, just like Finn did. The next time I took out someone in Mab's organization and left my spider rune calling card, Owen would hear about it sooner or later. But more important than that was the simple fact that I didn't want there to be any lies between us.

"No," I said. "It's not over. It's just getting started. I'm going after Mab. Her whole organization, all her flunkies, all the officials and cops she's got in her pocket. And when I've chipped away enough of her protective sh.e.l.l, then I'm going after her."

Owen stared at me. "And why do you want to do all that, Gin? Why would you risk yourself like that? What did Mab do to you?"

I drew in a deep breath. "The b.i.t.c.h murdered my family. Among other things."

I didn't say anything else. Didn't give Owen the details of my family's murder or who I really was or the fact that Mab had her sights set on killing Bria for magic that she didn't even have. I just wasn't ready to reveal that much of myself to him. Not now, maybe not ever. If Owen even gave me that kind of chance. If he even gave us that kind of chance.

I drew in another breath and readied myself for the rest of my speech. Because as enjoyable as our time together in the shower had been, great s.e.x wasn't enough for me to put Owen in danger-not the kind of danger that Mab Monroe presented.

"This morning was wonderful," I said. "But given what I did last night, given what I plan to do in the coming weeks, if you don't want things to go any further between us, I'll understand, Owen. Going after Mab and her organization will be dangerous, not only for me but for the people I care about as well. Because if Mab finds out who I am before I want her to, she'll come after everyone I know with everything she's got. I know you have Eva to think about. Believe me, I know how important sisters can be, how important Eva is to you. I'll understand if you don't want to take the risk."

Owen stared at me for several seconds, his eyes dark in his strong face. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big boy, Gin. I can take care of myself. Eva too. I've been doing it most of my adult life. Besides," his mouth twisted. "Your family isn't the only one that Mab killed."

A pain I was all too familiar with filled his face. I reached over and put my hand on top of his. "Oh, Owen. I'm so sorry. How did it happen?"

He shrugged. "My father was a gambler. He got in too deep to a bookie who worked for Mab. My father was a big, strong guy. The bookie was scared of him, so he called in Mab for reinforcement. She torched our house with the four of us in it to send a message to the bookie's other customers to pay up-or else. Eva and I got out. Our parents didn't."

Owen lapsed into silence, lost in his fiery memories of the past. We just sat there, my hand on top of Owen's larger one. We didn't say anything for almost a minute.

"So whatever you want to do, however you want to fight Mab Monroe, I'm with you," Owen finally said in a low voice. "Because the b.i.t.c.h killed my parents too. But mainly because I'm falling for you, Gin. I know what you do, what kind of violence you're capable of. But also, I know what kind of woman you are."

His words startled me more than anything had in a long time. "And what kind of woman would that be?"

Owen stared at me. "Someone who's pa.s.sionate and full of life. Someone who's funny and smart. But mostly, someone who'll do whatever the f.u.c.k it takes to protect the people she cares about. That's what I like about you, Gin. That's what I admire about you. That's what draws me to you." His mouth quirked up in a smile. "Well, that and the knives. Did I ever mention that I think weapons are s.e.xy?"

A warm, soft feeling blossomed in my chest, a little tingle of possibilities, of what could be between Owen and me-something far greater than I'd ever dreamed of.

At his suggestive tone, I arched an eyebrow, got up, and sat down in his lap. "Weapons are s.e.xy, huh?" I whispered, my lips just touching his. "Care to frisk me to see if I'm carrying any right now?"

Owen's eyes glittered with violet desire. "I'd love to."

A minute later, Eva Grayson walked into the kitchen in her flannel pajamas to find Owen and me still kissing-among other more prurient things. She immediately clapped her hand over her eyes and started backing out of the kitchen.

"Oops! Owen, sorry, I didn't realize that you had an overnight guest-" Eva peered through her fingers at me. "Wait a minute. Gin? Is that you?"

I pulled my robe closed. "In the flesh."

Eva's eyes narrowed, and she looked from me to her brother and back again. "A sleepover. Cozy." Her gaze flicked to the food on the table. "I take it you're staying through breakfast then?"

I stared at Owen. "Yeah," I said. "I think I'll be here awhile."

Three days later, just after eleven, I was back at the Pork Pit, sitting behind the cash register reading the morning edition of the Ashland Trumpet. The headline across the front page read Police still searching for vigilante. The story was yet another follow-up piece about the events that had transpired at Elliot Slater's mountain mansion.

"Well, at least they're not calling you an a.s.sa.s.sin," Finnegan Lane said, reading the headline upside down.

Finn was taking a break from his banking to have an early lunch at the Pork Pit before the usual noontime crowd hit. Sophia Deveraux had already poured Finn his second cup of chicory coffee and was brewing him another pot to take back to the bank.

I shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before it spins the other way and I'm back to being a cold-blooded killer."

"We'll see," Finn replied. "It might take longer than you think."

"Why do you say that?"

"I've had my ear on the underground buzz," Finn replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Word is that Mab Monroe is looking high and low for you and that she's got all her boys and girls on red alert. But there are also a lot of other people who are interested in seeing if you can pull it off. If you can actually take down Mab and her organization. Obviously, the other power players in town are extremely interested in the outcome. Phillip Kincaid being the most vocal of those. But there are lots of little folks talking too, moms and pops that have felt Mab's heat over the years. You've got the beginnings of a major fan base out there."

"Great," I replied in a wry tone. "Just what I need. Celebrity."

"It can have its uses," Finn replied.

The bell over the front door chimed, and my first real customer of the day strolled in-Roslyn Phillips. Today the vamp wore an elegant lavender sweater over a pair of slim-fitting, gray wool pants. A bit of matching lipstick brightened her beautiful face, and her silver gla.s.ses flashed in the morning sunlight. You'd never know by looking at her that Roslyn had almost been beaten to death. Thanks to Jo-Jo Deveraux's healing skills, the vamp had completely recovered from her ordeal at the hands of Elliot Slater. On the outside, at least.

I knew that Roslyn would always bear the scars on the inside-raw, b.l.o.o.d.y wounds that would scab over but perhaps never fully heal. My heart still ached for the vampire and everything that she had been through because of me, and I knew that it always would. If I could have, I would have killed Elliot Slater for her all over again. And again. And again.

But Roslyn seemed to be holding her own. And Finn had told me that Sophia, of all people, had talked at length to the vamp about what had happened to her. Finn didn't know any of the details, but he said that whatever Sophia had told Roslyn, it had seemed to help the other woman. The vamp certainly looked more like her old, confident, sophisticated self today than she had the last time I'd seen her-b.l.o.o.d.y in the back of a police car while everyone gawked at her.

Whether she realized it herself or not, Roslyn Phillips was one of the strongest people that I'd ever had the pleasure to know. And one day, I hoped she would do me the honor of calling me her friend, despite the h.e.l.l that I was partially responsible for inflicting on her. I hoped Roslyn could forgive me for it someday-even though I knew that I'd never forgive myself.

Roslyn came over to the counter, sat down next to Finn, and smiled at the two of us. "Gin, Finn." The vampire leaned forward and waved her hand at Sophia.

"Hmph." Sophia returned Roslyn's greeting with her usual grunt, but the Goth dwarf flashed the vampire a tiny smile before turning back to the coffeepot.

"Roslyn," I said. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm just here to meet Xavier for lunch."

I raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't resist my cooking?"

Another small smile tugged her lips, though it didn't quite banish the dark shadows in her eyes. "Something like that."

We sat and chatted about nothing of consequence. We all knew that it was too soon to talk about anything else, and I didn't want to do or say anything to upset Roslyn.

So Roslyn told us that her sister Lisa and her niece Catherine had finally returned from their beach vacation now that Elliot Slater was dead and the coast was clear, so to speak. She promised to bring them by sometime. I told the vamp that any meal with her family at the Pork Pit was on the house.

About five minutes after Roslyn arrived, the bell over the front door chimed again, and Xavier walked inside. The giant headed straight for Roslyn, and the two of them smiled at each other, their feelings shining in their eyes for everyone to see.

"Excuse us," Roslyn said, following Xavier over to one of the booths by the windows.

I watched the two of them. Xavier was careful with Roslyn, not getting too close to her, putting his hand next to hers on top of the table, but not actually touching her. For her part, Roslyn made an effort, looking straight at the giant, not taking her hand off the table when he edged his a little closer to hers. It was still a work in progress, but somehow I thought they would be okay, despite the last few horrible days the two of them had been through.

Xavier hadn't come to the restaurant by himself. About two minutes later, Detective Bria Coolidge walked through the front door of the Pork Pit. My sister wore her usual long navy coat over a sweater, jeans, and boots. Her gold detective's badge glinted on the waistband of her jeans. Bria waved at Xavier and Roslyn, then sat in a booth by herself in the back of the restaurant to give the couple their privacy. Bria picked up the menu on the tabletop and began to read it.

Finn nudged me with his hand. "Go talk to her," he whispered. "You have to start somewhere with her, Gin. Or else everything we've gone through, everything we're going to do is for nothing."

I stared across the restaurant at my sister. So close, yet so far away. But Finn was right. I had to start somewhere with Bria. There'd been enough antagonism and lies between us already. I wanted to establish some sort of friendly relationship between us, wanted a fresh slate to at least try to get to know my sister. Might as well try to start wiping away the grime today.

I looked at Finn with his bright green eyes. "Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you're right?"

Finn just smirked into his coffee cup.

I rolled my eyes at him, then got to my feet and walked back to her booth.

"h.e.l.lo, detective," I said in a pleasant voice.

Bria looked up at me and nodded her head. "Ms. Blanco."

"Please, call me Gin," I replied. "Everyone does."

She stared at me a moment longer, then nodded. "All right. Gin. Like the liquor, right?"

I blinked. That was usually my line when I was telling people my name. "Yeah. Where did you hear that?"

She shrugged. "Xavier told me you spell it like that. Seemed like an easy way to remember it."

"Sure." I pulled my pen and pad out of my back pocket. "So what can I get you?"

Bria bit her lip and looked at me. "Actually, I'm here to eat a bit of crow. That's why I tagged along with Xavier today. I was hard on you the last time we talked, and I just wanted to apologize. Roslyn told me that you were just trying to help her, that you really had no idea where she was or what was happening to her. I'm sorry if I upset you."

I waved my hand. "Bygones, detective. Elliot Slater got what he deserved, and Roslyn is safe now, as you can see."

Bria's blue eyes flicked to Roslyn and Xavier, who had their heads close together and were talking softly to each other.

"Any clues as to this person who killed him?" I asked. Finn had his ways of getting information, and I had mine. "What are they calling him again?"

"Her," Bria corrected in an absent tone. "It's a her. The press is calling her the Spider, because of the rune that she left at the crime scene. The one carved into the wood and stone on Elliot Slater's mountain mansion."

For a moment, Bria stared out the window, watching the flow of pedestrians and traffic on the cold street. Then she reached down and slowly turned one of the rings on her left index finger around. The top ring. The one stamped with the spider rune. My ring. I wondered what my baby sister was thinking about, what she was remembering, what she was hoping for.

"Well," I replied, cutting into her thoughts. "I hope you catch her."

A grim smile stretched across Bria's face, tightening her beautiful features. "Oh, I'm going to find her, Gin. Make no mistake about that. What I do with her then, well, I don't know just yet." She murmured the last sentence under her breath.

I smiled at her. "Well, I'm sure you'll have better luck on a full stomach. So what can I get you, detective? Everything's on the house today, in honor of Roslyn's recovery."

Bria ordered a cheeseburger with all the fixings and fries. I helped Sophia cook up her order and also grabbed a piece of blackberry cobbler-today's special dessert. Several minutes later, I carried everything back over to the table and put it down.

Bria eyed the pie. "That looks wonderful. Blackberry's my favorite."

I knew that, even if I couldn't tell her so. "I hope you enjoy it."

I started to turn away from her, to go back and hide behind the cash register like usual, but Finn gave me a small wave of his hand, urging me onward. So I turned back to the table and smiled once more.

"Care if I sit?" I said. "It's a bit slow yet, and since it looks like Xavier's going to be one of my regular customers, I'd like to get to know you a little better, detective."

Bria seemed taken aback by my strange request, but she waved her hand at the opposite side of the booth. "Sure. I hate to eat alone anyway."

So I slid into the booth and watched Bria take a bite of her blackberry pie. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Heaven," she replied. "Simply heaven."

I grinned. "If you think that's good, you should try my chocolate-chip pound cake."

Bria gave me a small smile. "I'll be sure and do that next time I'm in."

I nodded, and we didn't speak for a few moments.

"You know, I finally figured it out, Gin," Bria said. "Why you seem so familiar to me."

I had to work very hard to do nothing but keep blinking steadily at her. "Oh?"

"Yeah," she said, taking another bite of her pie. "You look a lot like my college roommate. Same dark hair, same pale coloring. Her family had a restaurant too. Even your blue ap.r.o.n is the same as hers. I loved that place. I spent as much time there as I could."

She gave me another smile, and I forced out a soft chuckle.

"Imagine that. So tell me, detective. Where are you from?"

I asked the question to change the conversation, of course. To keep Bria from thinking about who else I might look like or remind her of. But I also really wanted to know the answer. I still hadn't looked at the folder of information that Finn had compiled on Bria. For the past few days, I'd been more concerned with how Roslyn was coping and what Mab Monroe was doing to try to find me. And now, with Bria sitting here across from me, I realized that I didn't really want to look at the information. I wanted Bria to tell me herself, the way a friend would.

The way a sister would.

"Please," she said. "Call me Bria. Everyone does."

I nodded again and smiled. "So tell me, Bria. Where are you from?"

As Bria began to talk about her time in Savannah, Georgia, I relaxed against the booth. A small smile pulled up my lips, and my gray eyes flicked to the wall where a bloodstained copy of Where the Red Fern Grows was mounted, along with a picture of two young men about to go fishing. Jo-Jo Deveraux was right. Wherever Fletcher Lane was-heaven, h.e.l.l, or someplace in between-I think he would have been happy with things right now.

With Roslyn's help, I'd struck a major blow against Mab Monroe and her organization. It would take her a while to find someone to replace Elliot Slater, and the other sharks were already sniffing around, sensing weakness in the Fire elemental for the first time ever.

And here I was, Gin Blanco, Genevieve Snow, whatever I was calling myself these days. Sitting here in my favorite place in the world with the baby sister that I'd thought was dead. It was something of a miracle.

Oh, things weren't perfect. Mab Monroe was moving heaven and earth, at least what pa.s.sed for it in Ashland, to try to find me. And if she did, well, there would be h.e.l.l to pay. The Fire elemental and I were going to dance one day very soon, and I was going to be ready. I was finally going to kill the b.i.t.c.h who'd taken so much from me with just a wave of her hand.

I had no doubt that Bria had figured out that the Spider was really her long-lost big sister, Genevieve Snow. That Bria was going to do whatever she could to find me. What she did when she discovered the truth, whether baby sister turned me in to the cops or did something else, well, I just didn't know. But Bria was here, safe and warm in my restaurant, eating my food, and telling me about herself in a real, personal way that I wouldn't get from Finnegan Lane's file on her.

It wasn't the relationship that I had in mind with my sister. Wasn't what I had dreamed of ever since I'd learned that she was alive, but it was a place to start. That was all that I could ask for now. And it was much more than I deserved. I knew that. And I knew that I had Fletcher Lane to thank for it all. The old man was the one who'd brought Bria to Ashland. Now it was up to me to do the rest. Somehow I would.

And finally, there was Owen Grayson. That morning at his house in the shower and then afterward in the kitchen; Owen had accepted me-all of me-in a way that Donovan Caine never had. Were Owen and me forever? Could I care about him? Could we build some sort of life together? I didn't know, but I was strangely eager to find out, which is why Owen would be waiting for me at his place later on tonight.