Aster’s boots sank into the plush carpet below. The smell of perfume hit her like a solid thing. And as her gaze swept the room, falling on the oil paintings, on the towering wardrobe, and on the bed, with its heavy blankets and gilded headboard and silk pillows piled high, she found herself suddenly transported back to Green Creek. Memories she’d buried oozed to the surface like oil from the ground, dark and thick and churning. She stood rooted to the spot, her pulse beating heavy and hollow against her eardrums. Her breaths grew short and shallow, the suffocating scent of the perfume making her head spin and her stomach churn. Aster tried to take a step forward, but her knee buckled.
By the Veil, don’t do this. Not now. Please—
But Aster’s head grew lighter and lighter until it felt like she was floating away from herself entirely, leaving her body behind. Who would breathe for her now? Who would keep her heart beating? She would die in this room and her remnant would be trapped here forever. And that was how Violet would find her, crumpled on the floor like a forgotten doll …
Violet—
Violet would come back any moment. She had to hide.
Focus.
Aster felt like she was submerged twenty feet underwater. She forced herself to suck in a slow, deep, painful breath. She counted in her mind like the Lady Ghosts had taught her. And slowly, slowly, she rose out of the darkness, breaking through the surface of her mind, returning to herself. Aster’s next exhale was a half-choked sob. She stifled it with a hand, staggering towards the empty corner beside the wardrobe.
It felt like an hour had passed, but in reality, it probably hadn’t even been half a minute. Sudden shame flooded over Aster as she pressed her back against the wall. She was glad no one had been around to see her like that.
But just as she began to regain her breath, she heard the click of the washroom doorknob turning.
Violet stepped into view, now dressed in her nightgown, her face red and raw from being scrubbed, her long dark hair tied up in a messy bun. She stopped short as she spotted the wet boot prints on the rug. But before she could cry out, Aster leapt forward on silent feet and grabbed her from behind, wrapping her hand around her mouth. The last time Aster had attacked Violet like this, when Violet had discovered them with Baxter McClennon’s body, it had been because Aster had been afraid of her. Now she was afraid for her. She had to get her out of this place.
“It’s me. It’s Aster,” Aster whispered quickly. Her voice was thick, and she swallowed painfully. “I’m about to let you go. Are you going to behave?”
Aster couldn’t see Violet’s face, but Violet nodded, and Aster released her. Violet whirled around immediately, her face twisted up with indignation. Her eyes locked on Aster’s, and the piercing blue of them was almost enough to make Aster flinch.
Almost.
“Violet—” Aster started.
Violet gave her a hard shove.
“Damn you, Aster,” she snarled in a low voice.
“What the hell was that for?”
“For scaring the hell out of me. They told me you were dead.”
“And you believed them? You know you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Aster said with half a smile. But she still felt fragile, unsteady in her surroundings. The sight of a familiar face made her memories reach up for her again, threatening to pull her back down into the water.
Then Violet wrapped her in a fierce hug, bringing Aster firmly back to the present.
“You have no idea how much I missed you, Dawn.”
The sound of her true name made Aster’s skin prickle. She had not heard it in so long.
“I missed you, too,” she admitted softly. In fact, she’d missed Violet far more than she’d ever expected to. The Lady Ghosts understood the horror of the welcome houses, of course, but none of them understood what Aster had experienced at Green Creek specifically. It was like seeing her own reflection again for the first time in a year.
Violet stepped back and looked her up and down with continued disbelief. “Almost didn’t recognize you with the military haircut,” she said with a laugh, wiping away the wetness at the corner of her eye.
Aster ran a hand over her short hair self-consciously. “It definitely took some getting used to. Everything has. A lot has changed, Violet. We found Lady Ghost. It’s actually a whole network of runaway Good Luck Girls working together. They borderjumped Clem and the others into Ferron.”
Violet scoffed, clearly thinking Aster was joking, then blinked in disbelief once she realized Aster wasn’t.
“Wait, Ferron? Ripping hell! How?”
Aster shook her head. As much as she wanted to tell Violet everything, they didn’t have time.
“I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now we just need to get you out of here. The Lady Ghosts thought it was too big a risk to rescue you, so I came out here on my own.”
“Rescue?” Violet pulled away from her. “No, Aster. You don’t understand. I don’t want to leave.”
Aster stared at her, struggling to make sense of Violet’s words. A sickening feeling shot through her stomach.
“But … Violet…”
By the Veil, was I wrong about her?
Did she really switch sides?
Violet opened her mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. She looked at Aster in alarm.
“Aster, there’s something I need to tell you—”
The door swung open on oiled hinges.
And behind it, his coat glittering with rain, stood Derrick McClennon.
5
Derrick stopped short at the sight of Aster, his blue eyes widening with shock. His dress shoes squeaked against the floor as he took a step back.
“Who the hell—”
Aster drew her knife before she could think twice, her blood surging. Damned if she was going to let another McClennon get in her way. She would send Derrick to join his brother beyond the Veil if she had to. Aster bared her teeth, ran forward.
But before she could reach him, Violet grabbed her, her long fingers wrapping around Aster’s wrist.
“Don’t, Aster! He’s with us,” Violet hissed.
Aster spun around, ripping her wrist free. Her heart was still at the top of her throat, her vision swimming. Violet’s words slowly sank in.
“What?” Aster finally managed.
“I said he’s with us. Tell her, Derrick.”
Derrick’s narrow face had gone the color of milk, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. He seemed in every way his brother’s opposite—short where Baxter had been tall, bony where Baxter had been broad-shouldered and muscular. And whereas Baxter, by all accounts, had carried himself with an easy, swaggering confidence, there was something almost fragile in Derrick’s demeanor. His delicate-cut jaw clenched as if in anticipation of a blow, his summer blue eyes clouded with some unspoken grief. He seemed anxious, but Aster wasn’t even sure it was because of her.
But still—he was a ripping McClennon. Aster wasn’t going to let her guard down just because looked like a kicked puppy.
“Aster? Aster from—from Green Creek?” Derrick stammered. “I was told you were dead.”
“No such luck,” Aster said, raising the knife again warningly. “Now explain yourself.”
Derrick swallowed, his throat bobbing. He used the dripping black umbrella in his hand to point to the seating area in the corner of the room.
“May we sit while we talk, at least? I’ve been on my feet all day.”
Is this bastard serious?
Aster glanced at Violet, who nodded.
“Fine. Plant your ass in that chair, then,” Aster said impatiently. “But make it quick. We don’t have all night.”
Derrick sat neatly in the straight-backed armchair while Violet sat across from him on the couch. She seemed much more relaxed than Aster felt, leaning easily against the armrest. Aster remained standing, pacing, on edge.
“Well?” she snapped.
“Where to begin?”
Derrick said, raking the rain out of his ginger hair. “In order to understand the work I’m doing for you, I guess, first you have to understand a little more about the position I hold among my family,” he started, his voice smooth and his words carefully articulated. “Like all the great landmaster families, the McClennons have a long tradition of raising two male heirs every generation: one they groom to handle matters of business, the other to handle matters of state. And, like my uncle Jerrod, I was always meant to be the statesman. My father sent me abroad for school, expecting me to learn about government and politics and the history of the old Empire. And though I never had a choice in the matter, I was happy to be away from all of this. All of them.” He smiled thinly. “But when my brother, Baxter … died … I had to come back home and take his place as heir to the mining business. I’ve only recently returned, and it has been—” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “—challenging, to say the least, adjusting to the new reality. I can tell my family doesn’t trust me, with either the business or their secrets. There’s an inner circle they won’t yet let me into—which is why I didn’t know you were alive, Aster. But I have been doing my best these past few weeks to convince them all that I’m ready, in hopes that they’ll feed me information I can in turn pass along to Violet. We’re working together, you see, to sabotage my family’s business.”
Aster stopped her pacing. Stared.
“But … why?” she demanded.
He tilted his head, furrowing his brow curiously. “You all know better than most what they’ve done. Would you rather I let them continue?”
Aster curled her lip. She couldn’t tell if this boy was being smart with her or if he was just naive, but either way, she’d had just about enough of it.
“You think this some kind of game, you little—”
“Wait, just, calm down,” Violet sighed to Aster. Then she turned to Derrick. “Listen, if you think it’s been hard getting your family to trust you, Derrick, then I guarantee you you’re going to have a rough time convincing Aster here. So let me help.” She turned back to Aster. “Before Derrick came home, McClennon was still keeping me prisoner. I’d sworn up and down that you and the others had forced me to help you, that I was repentant for the part I’d played in our crimes—and I could tell he wanted to believe me, Aster. He wanted to believe the one fairblood girl in the group would have known better. The rest of you could be expected to behave criminally, but me? No, there had to be an explanation for it. But it wasn’t until Derrick returned that he felt comfortable giving me my freedom—under Derrick’s supervision. Derrick asked if he might be able to keep me as a kind of ‘welcome home’ present, you see. His very own fairblood fortuna.”
Aster threw Derrick a venomous glare. “This is supposed to convince me you’re on our side?”
Derrick opened his mouth to respond, but Violet beat him to it. “I’m not finished. It was all a ruse, Aster. In reality, when Derrick first came to visit me, he told me he wanted to help me in whatever way he could. At first I didn’t believe him, but the more time we spent together, the clearer it became he was sincere. So, I took a risk—I told him the truth. Now, not only am I finally in McClennon’s good graces, Derrick and I have had an excuse to meet in private and discuss strategies.”
“That’s why I came here tonight,” Derrick said.
“Look, if it weren’t for Derrick, I would still be rotting away in McClennon’s cellar,” Violet finished. “He’s the one who got me out. He’s the one who recommended me for housemistress here. He’s the one who gave me a chance to make a difference now.”
Well, he sounds like a ripping seraphant, Aster thought irritably.
Nobody was that generous. He had to want something from them. Aster just didn’t know what.
She chewed the inside of her cheek as she searched for an answer. Was he trying to play both sides? And if he wasn’t, why should Aster put her faith in someone who was willing to betray his own family? What did that say about him?
She took a steadying breath, trying to hold back her impatience. “I’m going to ask you one more time, and don’t play the fool, Derrick. Why are you—you—helping us?”
A shadow fell over Derrick’s expression. Again, he seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking. He steepled his fingers together. Aster bit her tongue against the urge to repeat her question.
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one with cause to hate my family,” he said at last, his voice softer. “And we’ll leave it at that.”
Aster looked at Violet in surprise, but Violet seemed just as caught off guard as she was, concern flickering across her face.
This is like Zee all over again, Aster thought exhaustedly.
It had taken Aster nearly the entire journey through the Scab before she let herself put her faith in Zee. But that same journey had changed her—she knew now that you couldn’t do this work alone. You had to let people help you.
And to do that, first, you had to trust them.
“Fine, then.” Aster sighed, giving in. “What kind of strategies, exactly, have you two been discussing?”
Derrick’s relief was unmistakable. Color flushed his cheeks. “Well, I’ve been running point on this new welcome house,” Derrick explained. “My father’s helping me, of course, but he’s keeping his distance—he sees this as something of a trial run for me before I start the real work in the Scab.”
“So I’ve heard,” Aster said. “We were at your uncle’s little announcement ceremony the other day.”
Derrick’s cheeks grew redder. “Then you know Violet will be answering to me, which gives us a bit of room to maneuver. We were planning first to spare the girls the Sweet Thistle so they would remain clearheaded. We weren’t going to let the raveners break their minds in, either. But then Uncle Jerrod suggested we lower the age to thirteen, to generate excitement for his campaign, and, well…” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “That was going to be our point of discussion for tonight. I’m going to try to convince my uncle to reverse his decision. But if I can’t…”
Aster’s impatience reached a breaking point. She began pacing once again, fighting against the trapped feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.
“No. Enough is enough,” she said. “We’re not going to ask anyone to do anything. We’re going to do what needs doing ourselves. This welcome house can’t be allowed to open, and we’re going to make sure it never does.” Even more than the Lady Ghosts, Derrick was trying to work within the system. But it was like folks said of gambling—the house always wins. You couldn’t play by its rules. You had to burn the whole thing down.
Burn the whole thing down …
Aster stopped midstep, looking at the others as a sudden solution came to her. “We’re going to burn this place to the ground. Tonight.”
Derrick’s carefully set expression fell inward with alarm. Violet’s eyes went wide as doorknobs.
“Aster—” Violet began.
Aster pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t look at me like that. You ought to know better. How long was it going to take you two to free these girls? What was your plan if you couldn’t convince McClennon to change his mind about the Lucky Nights? We can’t let anyone go through what we went through—not when we have the power to stop it right here and now.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” Derrick began, “but I think—”
“I’m sorry, did I ask for your opinion?”
“—but,” he pressed on, “I think taking such a drastic action would only create more problems than it solves.”
“They’d know it was arson, Aster,” Violet said softly.
“Good,” Aster said, struggling to keep her voice down. Everything was rising to the surface now—the dread she felt being back in a welcome house, the rage she felt towards McClennon, the joy she felt seeing Violet again, only to turn to frustration that Violet would not side with her on this. It was a hellish bile in her throat, bitter and burning. �
��I want McClennon to know it wasn’t an accident. Let him see that his cruelty won’t go unchallenged.”
“And it shouldn’t—but if you’re going to pick this fight, Aster, you have to be ready,” Derrick urged. “An act of protest on this scale … there’s going to be retaliation, and not just from my family. From all the landmasters, from all the people of Northrock, from all the fairblood families in Arketta who are afraid the dustbloods are coming for them next.” For the first time Derrick seemed truly agitated. “I have lived my whole life with these people, I know how they think. They believe you to be monsters. You cannot prove them right.”
Aster was beside herself. Her, the monster? When they were the ones who made their living off violence? Who took their pleasure from it?
But still, even through the haze of her anger, she could see that Derrick had a point. The Lady Ghosts had only survived as long as they had because they worked within the confines of the law. They knew they weren’t ready to fight the likes of McClennon head on.
But Aster was ready. She hadn’t broken out of Green Creek, crossed the Scab, and joined the Lady Ghosts just to give up now. She’d already gone against Priscilla and the others, women she trusted and respected, to be here—she certainly wasn’t going to listen to some foppish fairblood boy.
“Let people think what they want,” Aster said finally. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I already came all this way, and the dead only know when I’ll get another chance at it. We’re doing this—we’re doing it now.”
“Aster—” Derrick pleaded.
“You’re both right,” Violet said, standing. She looked between Aster and Derrick. “She’s right that we can’t let this welcome house open, and he’s right that the two of us have to maintain our cover—there’s still so much good work we can do from the inside. Before, we would have had to choose one or the other. But now that you’re here, Aster, we can have it both ways.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Aster asked slowly.
“You burn this place down—tonight, like you said. We won’t stop you. But you have to wait for us to leave and establish an alibi first so we won’t be suspected.”
The Sisters of Reckoning Page 5