“We’re giants,” Clementine said. “We’re tough, we’re strong, and we’re damn near unstoppable, but for years—for years—we’ve been relegated to hiring ourselves out to protect you. We’ve put ourselves in the line of fire over and over again, serving you, saving your miserable hides. And for what? Some measly paycheck? Some small hope of advancement? Well, not anymore. No, starting tonight, my boys and I are going to take what we want—take what we’re due—and to hell with anybody who tries to stand in our way. This is the dawn of a new era in Ashland, when we’re in charge. The way it should have been all along.”

All around the rotunda, the other giants nodded their heads in eager agreement. They were totally buying what Clementine was selling and seemed completely committed to her uprising.

She gestured with her gun at the bodies lying on the floor in front of her. “Now, I think that my boys and I have already proven our mettle, but just in case you need some more convincing, I have one more example to show you. Bring her in!”

Dixon stepped back into the rotunda—with Jillian. He might not have had any problems shooting someone in the face, but it seemed as if the giant didn’t like actually getting his hands dirty, judging by the stiff way he held Jillian out in front of him like she was a piece of smelly trash he needed to rid himself of as soon as possible.

Clementine handed Opal her gun, then moved over and took the faceless Jillian from Dixon with quick, easy movements. I thought she might approach the hostages with the body, but instead, she turned and threw it into the middle of the crowd.

Jillian Delancey had been a fit woman, but her body still weighed more than a hundred thirty pounds, every single ounce now dead, floppy, and awkward. But Clementine hefted the body through the air like it was nothing more than a football. All giants were strong, but this—this was an impressive display of sheer, raw power. The only other giant I’d seen with that kind of muscle had been Elliot Slater, Mab’s henchman. Clementine looked to be just as strong as Slater had been, maybe even stronger.

People screamed and scattered when they realized what Clementine was doing, and Jillian’s body slid to a stop on the mosaic star embedded in the floor. Horrified gasps rippled through the crowd like a tree full of crows all cawing at once. More than a few folks turned away from the body, hands clamped over their mouths to try to smother their screams or choke down the bile rising in their throats. Even in Ashland, where violence was so common, someone missing most of her face wasn’t an everyday sight—and it certainly wasn’t a pretty one.