“How do you hide it so well?” Aster asked Violet softly.
“What do you mean?” She sounded tired, her shadow dragging behind her.
“You said there’re little things that upset you now, but you must hide it well, because I’ve never noticed. Even back at Green Creek, you never seemed bothered by any of it. I know the Sweet Thistle must’ve helped you, but…” Aster cut a glance at her. “There were times when you even seemed to enjoy yourself.”
Violet shrugged a little. “Maybe I did. What of it? You think I’d have been better off angry at the whole world and everyone in it? How’s that worked out for you?”
Aster’s face heated, her temper rising—but, of course, that was Violet’s point.
“It scares me,” Aster admitted then. “My anger, I mean. I’m scared it’s already burned up everything good inside me. I’m scared it’ll burn anyone who gets too close. And I’m scared…” Well, what the hell? She’d already said this much. “I’m scared it’s all that’ll be left of me when I’m gone.”
“Like the vengeants?”
Aster nodded. Hallowers disagreed on whether a vengeant was something your soul turned into upon death, or if it was just something your soul shed and left behind on its way through the Veil. It was the former fate that frightened Aster the most—to be lost in her anger for time untold, with no memory of who she’d been or what’d been done to her. Vengeants were not conscious spirits that only lashed out at those who’d hurt them. They were mindless rage. They hurt everyone.
“Well, at least you let yourself feel your anger,” Violet said. “I can’t seem to feel anything anymore.” She kicked at a rock on the ground, no longer looking at Aster. “It was easier at the welcome house. Being head girl, there was always something to keep me busy. I was good at my job. I’m not good at … this.” She gestured to the whole valley. “I’m not used to having all this time to think. All this … emptiness and quiet. I’m useless out here.” She faced Aster again. “I hate it.”
“You miss Green Creek?”
“Sometimes a little.” She nodded to herself. “Sometimes a lot.”
A sickening feeling curdled in Aster’s stomach. She tried to remind herself that the welcome house was the only home Violet had ever known, and Mother Fleur her only family. Perhaps it had taken her more courage to leave than Aster was giving her credit for.
“Why’d you come with us, Violet?” Aster asked, and it occurred to her then, for the first time, that Violet was Violet’s only name—she had no true name that had been given to her in a life before the welcome house, no secret self she could retreat to at the end of the night. “Honest, now: What are you doing out here?”
But by then they had reached the other side of the lake and were nearing the camp. Violet straightened her shoulders and slipped on her mask of cool detachment.
“I already told you. I’m looking for Lady Ghost.”
* * *
As suspected, it was biscuits and beans for supper. But tonight there was an added treat: fresh-caught trout from the lake. Zee skinned the fish and crouched down to cook it over the campfire. Clementine stood behind him, kneading his shoulders, her piano-quick fingers playing over him with a natural ease. It was the kind of “hospitality” skill they’d all had to learn in the year leading up to their Lucky Nights. Aster bristled but said nothing.
“Where are Tansy and Mallow?” Violet asked. She sat primly on a saddle blanket, combing out her wet hair. She’d dismissed Aster entirely. “I didn’t see them when I was washing up just now. Did they drown, or what?”
Zee scanned the lake. There was no sign of them. “They’re probably just drying off and getting dressed.”
“Certainly taking their sweet time.”
“Can you blame them?” Clementine asked. “This has been our first chance to clean up proper since Green Creek. I was starting to feel filthy.”
Zee snorted. “Please! You all were maybe a little grubby. At the most. It takes longer than two weeks for honest filth to settle in.”
“Unbelievable. Do you even bother washing when you’re not surrounded by a bunch of pretty girls?” Clementine asked.
“Sometimes not even then. Depends on what we’re getting up to.”
Aster shot him a lethal look. Her marksmanship was about to improve damn quick. Clementine must have suddenly remembered Aster was there, because she snatched her hands back from giving Zee a neck rub and took a seat.
“It’s almost dark,” Aster said stiffly, turning the conversation back towards Tansy and Mallow. “I don’t like the idea of those two wandering around by themselves.”
“Well, they know not to stray too far,” Clementine said, though Aster heard a note of worry in voice, too. Just yesterday they’d come across a pack of coyotes picking through the remains of an elaborate camp, flies swarming a half-eaten body—some fairblood adventurer with romantic visions of conquering the Scab who’d gotten more than he bargained for.
“You want me to go look for them?” Zee asked.
But then, before Aster could respond, Tansy and Mallow stumbled into the camp from behind the brush. Their faces were flushed, their hands tangled together. They quickly dropped them as they stepped into the firelight.
“Kind of you to join us,” Violet said
“You all weren’t waiting on us, were you?” Tansy asked, her cheeks growing pinker.
Clementine’s eyes lit up with impish glee. “Violet here was worried sick.”
“Shit, we should have said something,” Mallow muttered. “We just … got distracted and lost track of time.”
“I bet you did,” Clem said.
Something in Aster thawed. She’d seen the way Tansy and Mallow looked at each other back at Green Creek. Secret touches, wordless conversations. In the welcome house, they’d had to bury what was between them. Out here, it’d been allowed to grow.
Aster smiled faintly. “It’s fine. Go on and sit down, your supper’s getting cold.”
They all settled in to enjoy their meal, watching the last of the day’s sunlight pour over the red-rock cliffs. Zee told them the story of Annagold, the young woman the falls were named for. It was said she’d fallen in love with a dustblood stableboy, and when her father had caught them together and sold him to the mines, she’d thrown herself over the edge of the falls in grief. You could still see her remnant on clear evenings, a face in the mist rising up from the water.
Soon that started everyone on their favorite ghost stories. Violet told them about the remnant that haunted Mother Fleur’s suite, the bitter old woman who had been the housemistress before her. Tansy told them about the vengeants’ victims she’d helped her mother care for—some who’d only needed stitches, others who’d lost limbs, all of whom were considered lucky to have survived at all. And Aster and Clementine told them about their grandmother, who had haunted their house for two weeks after she passed. It should have eased their grief to have her remnant near, but instead it had only made it plain just how much they had lost, and in the end they were relieved when she found her peace and moved on.
The tales grew taller and taller until they finally came tumbling down. By the time they were done, the moon hung high above them and the dead were howling at the stars. Everyone retreated to their corners to sleep, Mallow and Tansy linking pinkies as they walked together.
Clementine watched them with a look that was half happiness, half longing. Aster studied her sister carefully. Clementine clearly wanted what they had—and she wanted it with Zee.
She wrapped her hair for the night and crawled into her bedroll next to Aster.
“You know, this isn’t so bad, Dawn,” she said. Aster stilled at the sound of her true name. “Maybe we don’t even need to find Lady Ghost. Maybe we just find some quiet little valley and live off the land.”
Well, that was wishful thinking, though Aster couldn’t blame her for it. But the minute they stopped running, the raveners would catch them.
“We’ll neve
r be safe so long as we’re branded. We have to get rid of these favors,” Aster murmured, knowing this might also be wishful thinking. Sometimes, she still couldn’t fight off the fear that the promise of it was too good to be true. Still, even in moments of doubt, she’d stopped questioning their journey. Out here, they were finally living on their own terms. Doing what they wanted, going where they pleased. That was something, no matter what was waiting at the end.
Clementine touched the side of her cheek. “Zee thinks they’re pretty. I was telling him how much I hate that I can’t cover mine up, but he said I shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
“Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to live with one,” Aster said pointedly.
“That’s not how he meant it! He just meant—he just wanted to make sure I knew he doesn’t think less of me—of any of us—the way most people do.”
“And do you care much, what Zee thinks?”
Clementine hesitated. “So long as we’re stuck traveling together, we might as well be on good terms, don’t you think?”
“I think we still don’t know him well, and that ought to make us cautious.”
“Maybe you don’t know him that well yet, but I’ve had plenty of time to talk to Zee now that you and Violet are in cahoots,” Clementine said.
“We’re not in cahoots, Clem. We’re just—we’re helping each other. But you’re clearly looking for something more than that with Zee.”
“And what’s so wrong with that?” Clementine turned so she was facing Aster. “I can tell you’re happy for Tanz and Mal. Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“Because unlike Zee, I’ve known Tanz and Mal for years, and I care about them, and I trust them.”
“You don’t trust anyone. You don’t even trust me to be able to think for myself. You want me to be just like you, so fearful of the world I don’t live in it at all.”
The words hit Aster like a slap in the face. She swallowed around something sharp in her throat.
“That’s not true,” she said in a low voice.
Clementine looked as if she wanted to take her words back, but she steeled herself and continued. “It is so. I’ve been dying to talk to you about Zee, but I didn’t because I knew this was how you’d react. This is how you react to everything.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Everybody gets hurt. And I’ve been hurt.”
Not yet, you haven’t. Not like I have.
Aster took a shuddering breath. “Well, it’s my job to try and keep you from getting hurt again. I didn’t have anyone to look out for me. And I wish every day that I had. That’s why I work so hard to look after you. I love you too much to leave you alone.” But Aster thought about what she’d confessed to Violet earlier, her fear that her anger would burn anyone who tried to get too close. What if her anger at Zee was driving her own sister away?
“Even so…” Aster continued, “I’m sorry if I ever made it feel like you can’t talk to me. That’s never what I wanted. You ought to be able to talk to me about anything.”
“It’s okay. I know,” Clementine said quietly. She picked at the grass rather than meet Aster’s eyes.
“I promise I don’t mean to be so hard-headed. Sometimes it feels like I can’t help it. But I’ll try, hear?”
Clementine sighed. “It must be exhausting, only being able to see the worst in everything like that.”
“It is.” Aster’s voice cracked, and she covered it with a cough. Clementine reached across the space between them. Aster took her hand. It wasn’t right, that Clementine should have to comfort her. It was supposed to be the other way around.
But Aster needed this. Violet might have been the only one who understood what she’d been through, but Clementine was the only one who cared.
“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” Clem said. “You have me to look out for you now. And Mallow and Tansy and maybe even Violet. And Zee. He’s good people, Dawn.” Clem squeezed her hand. “I promise. Have faith.”
Aster nodded. She took her hand back to wipe her eyes before the tears could fall.
“You’re just saying that because you think he’s fine,” Aster said, laughing softly.
Clementine grinned. “He is fine. Don’t you agree?”
“He’s all right, I guess.”
“He’s two parts puppy dog, one part wolf.”
“He’s a skinny old stray we can’t get rid of.”
Clementine seemed to hum with happiness. Aster let out a long breath that left her feeling cleaner and lighter.
“Come here,” she said. Clementine scooted closer and Aster wrapped her arms around her. They lay there in silence, listening to the lullaby of the bullfrogs in the lake. A few moments later, they were asleep.
* * *
Aster woke to the sudden roughness of a hand shaking her shoulder. She bolted upright as if she’d been stabbed with a cattle prod, her hands pushing off the attacker. It took her a moment in the darkness to realize it was just Zee. She could feel no relief at the sight of him—only anger, and a loose, lingering fear.
“You keep your damn hands off me,” she snarled. “What the hell do you want?”
It was only then that she noticed Zee’s eyes were wide with a terror she’d never seen in them.
“Aster, we have to go, now. There’s a ravener hunting party less than a mile away.”
He turned to alert the others before she could ask any questions.
“Come on, Clem, we have to run.” Aster started tying up her bedroll, moving automatically. It felt like she was wading through a nightmare. The vengeants’ keening rang in her ears.
“What hour is it? What’s going on?” Clementine asked through a haze of sleep.
“Raveners in the valley.”
Clem snapped awake. She leapt to her feet and helped Aster pack their things.
“I was keeping watch from the top of the hill when I saw them,” Zee explained as he tacked up his horse. “We can lose them, but we have to hurry.”
“How the hell did they find us in the first place?” Violet demanded. “Isn’t it your job to—”
“I don’t know! Maybe the firepit was too shallow. Maybe we didn’t double back far enough yesterday. All it takes is one mistake.”
“Let’s just be grateful you saw them in time,” Aster interrupted as she saddled up. They couldn’t afford for Zee to lose his bearings, not now. This panic was unlike him, and she didn’t want it spread to the others.
And then, Aster heard it—the thunder of hooves and then the unearthly shriek of the raveners’ steeds.
“Hurry,” Zee begged. There was no time to try to hide the evidence of their campsite, no time to plan a strategic retreat. They simply had to run.
The second everyone mounted the horses, they galloped away, guided by the yolk of the moon. Zee traced the lake’s shoreline. Mud kicked up beneath the horses’ hooves, and the air was thick with mist. Aster wiped it away from her eyes, straining to see into the dark. They were approaching the cliffs.
“There’s a bridge at the top!” Zee said over the roar of the falls. “If we can cross it and put it behind us, they won’t be able to follow over the gorge. But we have to be quick.”
Aster swore under her breath. There were too many ways for this plan to go wrong. If the bridge was out—if the raveners caught them before they reached it—if they fell down the cliffside trying to race to the top—
They started single file up the steep, narrow path cut into the side of the ridge. Sheer rock face rising up on one side, a long drop on the other. Soon they had to slow down or risk slipping over the edge. Aster spared a glance over her shoulder, anxiety burning a hole through her stomach as their pace slackened. She could just make out the shapes of four raveners on horseback, circling the campsite. And though they were too far away for her to feel their influence, a rash of chills ran down her arms.
If we’d waited even a minute longer …
Aster’s scalp pri
ckled as she remembered the last time she’d been at a ravener’s mercy. Blood turning to ice in her veins. Bones humming with agony—
No. Focus.
Aster faced forward again. She concentrated on the sound of hoofbeats clattering over shale. Trained her gaze squarely on Violet’s back ahead of her. Zee led them around a sharp hairpin turn, the first of several zigzagging up the cliffside. They were almost as high as the tree line now. The air grew cooler and thinner with every step, and the wind tugged at Aster’s limbs. They rounded the next turn, slowing to a near crawl.
“Can’t we go any faster?” Mallow begged.
“Not unless you want to take a tumble,” Zee said sharply. “But the raveners will have to slow down, too. We’ll make it, I promise.”
The sudden shriek of hellhorses pierced the night air.
The raveners had started up the cliffside.
“I HAVE EYES ON THEM!” a gravelly voice shouted. “THEY’RE HEADING TO THE TOP OF THE FALLS.”
“Zee,” Aster urged.
“Just follow me!”
They rounded another turn. Hooves pounded with the sound of rolling thunder below.
Aster glanced over the edge, her head spinning at the dizzying drop.
The raveners were gaining.
“By the Veil, they’re too fast for us,” Clementine cursed.
That was because hellhorses were half again as big as any natural horse, twisted by raveners’ magic to be able to keep up the tireless pursuit of their quarry. They were as vicious as their owners.
And they weren’t slowing down at all.
The beasts let out another earsplitting shriek, piercing enough to cut through the vengeants’ keening. Aster struggled to keep control of her own horse as it faltered at the sound. By the time they rounded the final turn, the raveners were only a few hundred yards behind.
The Good Luck Girls Page 14