Maybe it had been her smell, jasmine mixed with smoke. Maybe it had been her silky voice. Or even that brief laugh she’d let out while she’d been standing over me, discussing my impending demise with Tobias Dawson.

But it had brought all of my memories of that night back to the surface. I hadn’t seen the Fire elemental’s face when she’d tortured me. But I’d heard her voice, her laugh.

And they were identical to Mab’s.

I was sure of it now. Or maybe I’d known all along but just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself. That’s why Fletcher had written Mab’s name down in the folder to start with. To make me look in her direction and figure it out for myself.

I knew the who; now I wanted to know the why. Why had Mab killed my mother and older sister? Why had she tortured me? Why had she demanded to know where Bria was? When I found out the why, I’d have the final piece of the puzzle.

And then I’d kill the bitch.

Oh, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That I could die in the process. That I probably would die. But Mab Monroe had murdered my family, made me think I’d killed my baby sister for seventeen years. I’d lived on the streets and eaten garbage because of her. Hidden from junkies and vampire pimps and all the other Southtown trash. Been scared and weak and frightened because of her. But not anymore. And mine wasn’t the only family she’d ruined over the years. The Snow family was hardly a footnote compared to all the horrid things Mab Monroe had done.

And then there was Bria. My eyes traced over the picture of my baby sister. Blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, the primrose rune around her neck. She was out there somewhere, waiting for me.

“I’m going to find you, baby sister,” I whispered. “One way or another.”

My eyes flicked up to the rune drawings propped on the mantel. I stared at the image of the Pork Pit that I’d drawn, of the sign over the front door. Fletcher’s rune, as I thought of it. I raised my glass in another toast.

“Here’s to you, Fletcher Lane,” I said. “I hope I’ll make you proud.”

Only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall broke the silence. I tossed back the gin and set my glass aside. Then I picked up the folder, ready to go through all the information again. And again and again if necessary.

Until I found all the answers I was looking for.

Donovan Caine had been right about one thing. Part of me would always be the Spider—and it was time to put my skills to good use. To do the things that needed to be done.

Find Bria.