The Sisters of Reckoning

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  “And you’re able to support her doing that?” Aster asked pointedly.

  “Barely,” Clementine answered for him. “And I swear he spends half of it on hair grease.”

  “Maybe, but what do we need shine for?” Zee countered, putting his arm around Clementine and pulling her closer. “The sun gives us all the gold we could ever want, and the moon all the silver. We’re richer than kings.”

  Clementine giggled, pushing him away playfully. “You’re so corny.”

  Aster was less amused.

  “Well,” she said bracingly, turning to Raven. “There you have it—a one-woman batball team, a barroom pianist, a copperless cornball, and a medic who may actually be brilliant enough to get the rest of us through this. Are you sure you still want to join this circus?”

  Raven offered half a smile. “Well, it sounds like you still have room for a brooding artist. I’d be happy to offer my services.”

  Zee grinned in return. “I like her.”

  “She’s relieved, I’m sure,” Tansy said sarcastically. “Raven, what kind of art do you do?”

  Aster expected her to deflect, but Raven’s eyes lit up with excitement at the question.

  “Leadpoint, mostly,” Raven said. “The Ladies have been kind enough to provide me with materials. But before, at the welcome house, I had to make do with whatever I could find. I used old charcoal for the lines and shading and old newspapers for the canvas.”

  “Oh, which welcome house did you grow up in?” Clementine asked.

  Raven’s expression shuttered again, her smile fading.

  “Sorry, that’s really not my business—” Clem amended.

  “No, we’re about to be spending a lot of time together. It’s only natural you’d want to know more about me, right?” Raven said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “But my welcome house isn’t one you all would’ve heard of. It was an off-books establishment, meant to cater to … ‘illicit’ tastes. There were a lot of girls like me there. My folks sold me off as soon as I was old enough—said if I wanted to be a girl so bad, I could go and make a living of it.”

  Aster had never heard this story before, and it hit her like a gut punch. Most girls got sold to welcome houses because their families were desperate for the shine or genuinely believed their daughter would be better off. But to be abandoned by your parents out of spite …

  “By the dead, Ray, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too. To hell with them,” Mallow said in a low voice. Her face was drawn. “My brother and I … we were always kind of different like that. Not in the same way as you, exactly … it was more like we were both caught in the middle somewhere, between whatever it means to be a boy or a girl, him just a little too gentle and me just a little too rough … and the other kids would give us shit for it, of course, but never our folks. They always seemed to understand.”

  Tansy took Mallow’s hand and turned to Raven. “I know we’re no replacement for the family you’ve lost, Raven, and we’re not trying to be, but … we’ve all had to learn how to be there for each other when no one else was. No one’s going to drive you away from this family.”

  Clementine nodded excitedly. “Hell, if you’ve been looking after Aster in my absence, you’re already as good as a sister to me.”

  Raven’s expression softened just for a moment, then she drew her guard up once again, clearing her throat and looking away. “That’s real kind of you all to say. I’ll hold you to it.” Then she uncrossed her arms and caught Aster’s eye. “I reckon this all is part of the reason I’ve always felt for you, Aster, and the way you get frustrated with how the Ladies do things. They try so hard to work within the law, but as far as the law’s concerned, I shouldn’t even exist. Why should I respect it when it doesn’t respect me?”

  “Exactly,” Mallow said, raising her glass.

  “And I won’t pretend I’m not feeling some kind of way about this plan of yours—I mean, I’ve never had to live rough on the road like you all, and I’m sure as hell going to miss my bed,” Raven went on with a nervous chuckle. “But if the law won’t protect folks, then someone else has to.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It might as well be us.”

  9

  They set out from the Graveyard the next morning, the sun warm on their backs.

  As Aster had expected, Priscilla had refused to help them in their new mission to blackmail McClennon—but neither did she make any effort to stop them from leaving, even going so far as to provide them with fresh horses and supplies and a little bit of shine to get them started. Her anger from the night before had been replaced by an old woman’s resignation, regret ringing through her voice as she bid Aster farewell separate from the others.

  I feel like I have failed you, Dawn, she said.

  The words broke Aster’s heart. Never. You saved me—you saved all of us. It’s just my turn to do the same for others, as best I know how.

  Priscilla sighed at that. I forget how intoxicating the courage of youth can be, though I might call it folly … I would wish you all to wander well, but I fear there’s only suffering down this path you’ve chosen. And so, just go with my love.

  Her last words to them were still ringing in Aster’s ears as they picked their way through the woods. Go with my love.

  Aster’s own mother had been a distant woman, bitter as the pit of a fruit whose sweetness had long since been eaten away. She had loved Aster, in her way, but she never said the words. And Mother Fleur—Mother Fleur had only ever loved her girls in the way a spider loved its flies. So Aster had not known how to respond to Priscilla’s love, so freely given, even in the face of their split. The whole thing had struck some fragile part of her, and even now, hours later, she was struggling to harden her heart once again for the fight ahead.

  “Damn mosquitoes all over the damn place,” Raven muttered from behind Aster. The two of them were sharing a horse, taking point, while Clementine rode with Zee behind them and Tansy and Mallow brought up the rear. Raven swatted at the whining insects all around them—she clearly, like Aster, had gotten used to the luxuries that working undercover for the Lady Ghosts had afforded them, such as being free to travel on the road, sometimes even in a coach. But from now on, unless they used some of Tansy’s precious ghostweed salve that would allow them to cover their favors for extended periods of time, they would have to remain in hiding. “How much longer until we get where we’re going, Aster?”

  “Another six hours at least, so settle in,” Aster said. They were on their way to Bullridge, a town a couple hours outside of Northrock. Aster had sent Violet a voltragraph last night to hash out the details of their meeting, Aster writing under the alias they had agreed upon earlier:

  Mr. Derrick McClennon:

  Please accept my deepest sympathies for the loss of the Northrock welcome house. I so enjoyed learning more about the project when last we met. Now, more than ever, I wish to continue working together to help you bring about your vision for a better Arketta. It’s been my good luck that several of my associates have recently arrived from Ferron and would like to meet with you as soon as possible. When and where would be agreeable to all parties for a conference?

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Sunny O’Brian

  To which Violet had responded this morning:

  Ms. Sunny O’Brian:

  Thank you kindly for your condolences. Mr. McClennon is glad to hear you’re well. He’d be delighted to meet with you and your associates this evening. Please join us in Bullridge at the Broken Wheel Saloon at 8:00. He has reserved the private room so you may talk at your leisure. We look forward to seeing you.

  Sincerely,

  Violet

  After everything she’d already been through in Northrock, Aster wasn’t in any particular hurry to go back to another town, even a smaller one. It would’ve been better if they could’ve met somewhere more remote. Why had Violet suggested this place? Did Derrick just not trust the rest of them yet?

  Well,
that can cut both ways, she thought. The farther they rode, the less sure Aster felt about involving the McClennon boy. The welcome house fire had been a success despite his involvement, not because of it. And he had hardly been happy to go along with it—who was to say he’d want to help them blackmail his uncle into closing all the welcome houses?

  Let’s just say you’re not the only one with cause to hate my family, that was what he’d said to reassure her. But how could he have as much cause as someone like Clementine, who’d nearly been killed by his brother? It felt almost callous to make Clem sit in the same room as him.

  If he so much as looked at her the wrong way, Aster was going to knock the taste out of his pretty mouth—and she didn’t care who else was around to see it.

  Raven, shrewd as ever, saw right through Aster’s stony silence.

  “And what happens when we ride all this way only for Baby McClennon to tell us he’s not going to betray his family, actually?” she asked.

  Aster shifted uneasily in the saddle, the humid air suddenly too warm in her throat. “You haven’t met him. He’s not forceful like that. He’ll do whatever we ask of him just for the sake of avoiding an argument.”

  “All right, but Aster … this is a big ask.”

  Aster sighed, no longer able to keep up the pretense. “Look, you’re right. But if there’s one thing the Ladies got right, it’s that having an inside man is priceless. I’m not going to pretend I trust this bastard—I don’t—but Violet trusts this bastard, and I trust her.”

  “I reckon she’s the real reason you’re going to all this trouble anyway,” Raven said slyly.

  Aster threw a glance over her shoulder. “What the rip is that supposed to mean?”

  Raven shrugged, cooling herself off with the paper fan that she had seen fit to pack along with the essentials. “I mean, you were so desperate to get Violet back that you went to Northrock by yourself to save her. And now your first instinct is to go to her again, not just risking your life this time, but theirs, too,” Raven said, gesturing to the others riding behind them. “You’ve told me about how much you two leaned on each other when you were on the run … I just worry, sometimes, that you never learned how to stand straight without her.”

  Aster’s cheeks heated. She’d let Raven draw a portrait of her once, Aster sitting still for an endless hour while Raven studied her with her piercing gaze. This felt much the same. “I don’t need anybody, Raven, and I don’t much appreciate you suggesting that I’m being reckless with you all’s lives, either.”

  “Hey, hey, easy,” Raven said. “I’m just trying to ask you the tough questions everyone else is afraid to. Seems like that used to be Violet’s job, but until we catch up to her, I feel like it’s on me. I’m the oldest, after all.”

  Aster didn’t know what to say to that. Raven was right again, but Aster didn’t want to admit it.

  “So you’re saying we shouldn’t be making this stop, is that it?” Aster mumbled, chastened.

  “No, I’m saying I think you’re doing the right thing for the wrong reason. But what does it matter, as long as it gets us our inside man? And besides, as much as you all have been talking up this girl, now I feel like I have to meet her. I want to make a good impression.”

  Aster grinned a little at that. “Since when do you care what other folks think of you?” she asked.

  “Hey, just because I don’t need anyone’s approval doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have,” Raven cracked back.

  Their group reached Bullridge by early evening, dismounting to cover their favors before venturing out of the woods and into town.

  “All right, let’s give this ghostweed salve a try,” Aster said, turning to Tansy. Tansy nodded and dug a large jar out of her satchel.

  “Just enough to thinly coat your favor—remember, we have to conserve our resources,” Tansy instructed them, demonstrating first on herself. Then she passed the jar along to Aster. The salve inside had a faint lavenderlike scent, though whether that was natural to the ghostweed or something Tansy had added herself, Aster wasn’t sure. Aster carefully spread the smooth white cream over her neck and jaw, her heart kicking with anticipation. It was cool on her skin, even after being exposed to the heat of the day, and its numbing relief was immediate. Aster had been doing her best to keep her expectations in check, but she couldn’t help letting out a laugh of triumph. She passed the jar along to the others.

  “I still hate having to wear the dustkerchief,” Clementine muttered, tying the fabric around the bottom half of her face.

  “It’s not for long,” Aster promised. “Violet said Derrick reserved a private room for us at this bar. We only have to keep our favors hidden until then.”

  “Why couldn’t the two of them meet us out here?” Mallow asked. She had carefully covered her headband with the brim of her hat to avoid suspicion once they got into town, though Aster could tell it bothered her to do so. “Is pretty boy afraid to get his shoes dirty?”

  “More like he’s afraid of us,” Clementine answered.

  “Yeah, Aster, do we need to be ready for trouble?” Zee asked, his hand falling to the revolver at his hip. “I mean, you all killed his brother … maybe this whole thing is a setup.”

  Aster glanced at Raven, whose face was already covered, though her raised brow betrayed her What did I tell you? expression well enough.

  “It’s not Derrick I’m trusting—it’s Violet,” Aster said again, exasperated. “And I’m trusting you all, because I know we can handle whatever this little fool might throw at us. Now come on, let’s not keep him waiting.”

  They mounted up and left for the road leading into Bullridge, their horses’ long, lazy shadows trailing out behind them, even though they themselves had none. It was still half an hour at least until sunset, but the ember-flies had already come out for the night, flickering faintly in the fading light. The sounds of the town flickered in and out just as gently: a hammer hitting a horseshoe, a wagon rumbling around a sharp turn, a dog barking for attention and a delighted child laughing in response. Bullridge had a clean, crisp look to it, the buildings along Main Street packed neatly and beaming with fresh white paint. It was nothing like the towns in the Scab, dust-choked and neglected, crawling with lawmen to keep out the dustbloods and entombed in deadwalls to keep out the vengeants. No, this was the kind of “nice place” that McClennon had in mind whenever he waxed poetic about Arketta and its fine fairblood families.

  Aster hated it already.

  “Look, there’s the Broken Wheel,” Raven murmured.

  Aster followed her gaze. The saloon was at the end of the street, on the corner. A broken wheel hung from beneath the sign.

  “Good eye, Ray,” Aster said, turning to point it out to the others. It was hard to tell behind their dustkerchiefs, but they looked just as uncomfortable as Aster felt. She’d been out of place in the nicer parts of Northrock, too, but at least there were so many people there you could disappear in the crowd. Here, it seemed like everyone was watching them pull up to the saloon and tie their horses to the post.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but where the rip is Derrick?” Mallow whispered harshly.

  It was true—he was nowhere in sight. Aster checked her pocket watch, cursing when she realized it was already five past eight. He was probably just running a few minutes late, but they could hardly hang around here long without him.

  “Well, no need to make a scene,” Zee said quietly. “Let me take the lead on this one. They can’t kick us out. We’re not breaking any laws.”

  “Yet,” Mallow mumbled.

  They filed inside through the saloon double doors, their boots squeaking over the polished wood floors. Golden gasoliers hung from a tin-tile ceiling, bathing the space in a warm, honeyed glow. The murmur of conversation quieted as folks took note of Aster and the others. Of their covered faces, their shadowless feet. The patrons shifted uneasily in their seats.

  Zee cleared his throat and walked up to the crowded bar as
if he hadn’t noticed the sudden turn in the atmosphere.

  “Evening, sir,” he said to the bartender, a thickset man with thinning hair. His nametag read: RUSS.

  “Evening,” Russ said back neutrally, setting down the glass he’d been drying. “You all look like you’ve come a long way.”

  Zee didn’t miss a beat. “That we have. We’re here to meet a business associate of mine. I’ll thank you kindly for a cider while we wait.” He reached into his pocket and slid a pair of eagles across the bar. Russ looked at the shine but didn’t take it.

  “You from the Scab, then?” he pressed. “You must be, covering your faces like that. There’s no need for all that here, you know. Dust isn’t a problem in these parts.”

  Zee hesitated, but Tansy jumped in and answered for him.

  “You live in the Scab long enough, and your lungs become sensitive to even trace amounts of dust in the air. Better safe than sorry, sir, begging your pardon.”

  Aster and Zee exchanged glances. Tansy was clearly just making shit up, but maybe it would be enough to convince this man. Everything he knew from the Scab probably came from a sensationalist copper novel.

  The muscles in the bartender’s jaw worked, but he relented, turning to pour Zee’s drink. Aster exhaled softly.

  Then a man standing beside them spoke up.

  “Russ. Come on now. You can’t let them stay.”

  Aster tensed back up immediately. The man had spun around on his barstool to face them, scowling beneath his bristly blond moustache.

  “You saw what happened down in Northrock,” the man went on. “That welcome house fire—it was one of them that did it.”

  A stab of fear pierced Aster’s heart. How the hell did he know? Her hand fell to her knife—

  “We had nothing to do with that, sir,” Zee said calmly.

  “It was a dustblood, though, wasn’t it? You’re all the same.”

  Oh. Aster loosened her grip on the hilt of her knife, but her scowl deepened as the man continued. “Bad genes. Corrupted souls. Like animals. You all can’t help yourselves.” The man turned back to Russ. “It’s not safe having them here. There’s a reason their ancestors were shipped off to the Scab.”