She turned to face the ravener, her throat choking with tears.
And felt her heart kick in surprise.
This ravener was a woman.
A woman … and a dustblood. With warm brown skin and dark hair pulled into a low, severe bun underneath her railworker’s cap. She surveyed the room with eyes the lurid orange of a rotting pumpkin. One hand rested on the gun at her belt, her nails filed near to claws. She was beautiful, but in the way a hawk was beautiful—deadly and sharp.
Everyone in the room tensed up, even as the ravener let her influence subside. Their shock and fear were their own. Aster risked a glance at the others in her group to see if they shared her trepidation. Tansy and Mallow were clinging to each other despite the danger of such an action. Clementine’s usual smile was wiped clear off her face.
And then there was Zee, whose face had fallen into a mask of horror and disbelief, his jaw slack, his eyes round with fear. He shook his head, murmuring something to himself. Aster almost called out his name involuntarily before catching herself. She knew Zee had always been more afraid of raveners than the rest of them. He had reason to be. His father had been a ravener, had slowly devolved into a monster while Zee and his three younger sisters watched. The grisly work of hunting down escaped Good Luck Girls and other hotfoots might have been enough to get their family out of debt, but it had come at a terrible cost.
Aster had never known what, exactly, Zee’s father had done to him once he’d lost himself to that dark power. She’d been subjected to enough ravenings herself to know better than to ask. But whatever it was, it had been bad enough to make Zee lose his laid-back, easy confidence whenever they encountered a ravener.
And yet, Aster had never seen him this undone.
“LAST STOP!” the conductor announced. The train began to lurch to a stop, and the ravener smirked at them before turning and heading back the way she’d come.
And Zee, standing up and pushing through the crowd, followed her.
“Zee!” Clem hissed.
What the hell is he thinking? Had the ravening made him lose his mind? He couldn’t follow the ravener girl into a fairblood car; he’d be questioned or thrown out—or worse.
Aster and Clementine both started to go after him.
But when Aster caught his wrist, he fixed her with a desperate look before snatching his arm free. There was no madness in it, only need.
“Go on without me,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.
“Zee, no—” Clem insisted.
“I’ll catch up tomorrow. I promise. Go on without me.”
“But—”
“That was Elizabeth,” he choked out.
Aster released Zee’s wrist in shock and watched, bewildered, as Zee left them. Clementine let out a wracking sob, already fragile from the ravening, and now broken by this sudden turn of events. Several people turned to stare.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Aster whispered, quickly grabbing her sister’s hand to calm her. “He clearly knows what he’s doing.”
Aster was still not entirely convinced of this herself, but to follow Zee now would risk exposing all of them—they would just have to trust him.
“Wh-why would he just leave? Without even telling us the reason—”
By now the others had caught up to them. “You know Zee wouldn’t take off like that unless it was important,” Tansy said.
“Yeah, and if anyone can take care of themselves on their own, it’s that boy,” Mallow added.
“I guess … but…”
“But nothing,” Aster interrupted. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had, and bring that terrible ravener back down on them. “He said we’ll see him tomorrow, so we’ll see him tomorrow. Now fix your face before we get off this train, hear? We’re back in the Scab now. Time to show it we’re not afraid.”
11
The Scab had changed in the months since they’d left it.
Not in ways that would be obvious to anyone who hadn’t grown up there, but that were immediately obvious to Aster and her friends. Derrick had given them enough shine to take a coach the rest of the way to Rattlebank, and it was from there, while peering out through the thin curtains, that Aster took it all in—the stronger presence of the lawmen, many of them now with sleek shepherd dogs at their sides. The resentment in the eyes of the fairbloods as they saw to their business in town, huddling in groups rather than walking alone. And the hardness at the corner of every dustblood’s mouth as they went about their work, exhaustion and anger and dread aging even young men by years. None of it was new, but all of it was heightened, filling Aster with a deepening unease.
But the true shock came later, on the Bone Road.
Gibbets.
Cages where unforgivably disobedient dustbloods were hung up high to starve and die. They had always been used as a gruesome warning in the Scab, but whereas before they had been a rare and shocking sight, now tree branches were heavy with them. Some bodies had been there longer than others, fabric and bloated flesh sloughing off sun-bleached bones. Others were so fresh that Aster wondered for a horrified moment if they might still be alive, too far gone to fight off the carrion birds that picked at their hands and faces. And more than a few showed the telltale signs of a vengeant’s claws—long, deep furrows revealing where the life had been ripped out of them. Perhaps these had been the lucky ones: they had died quickly.
But there was one thing these dead all had in common—signs posted beneath them that simply read: THEY REBELLED.
If you’re going to pick this fight, Aster, you have to be ready, Derrick had warned her. 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.
Aster was seized by sudden, sickening fear, uncoiling in her belly like a snake waking up. She closed the curtains against the horrific display, leaning forward to still her queasiness as the coach swayed down the road. Earlier, on the train, she’d been thrilled by the realization that their actions had had such a far-reaching effect. But why had she so foolishly assumed that effect would always be a good one?
These people died because of us, Aster thought. We burned down that welcome house. We made the landmasters feel threatened. And now you want to kidnap Derrick McClennon—
No, this wasn’t their fault. It was the landmasters’—
Landmasters angered by our actions.
“By the Veil,” Raven murmured, looking out the opposite window. “I’ve heard stories about the Bone Road, but I never imagined it would be this bad.”
“It didn’t used to be,” Tansy said quietly. “Folks perished from the natural dangers of traveling in the Scab all the time, but the gibbets … this is new.”
“All these bodies left out like some kind of ripping warning,” Mallow muttered. She turned to Aster. “We’ve only been gone a year. What’s happened to this place?”
Aster didn’t have an answer for that, and it was with a heavy sense of foreboding that they disembarked from the coach at Rattlebank. Despite the clear night sky above it felt as if a heavy storm were pressing down on them, and Aster was suddenly anxious to go to ground. The rise and fall of the vengeants’ keening was making the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. They were safe inside the town’s deadwalls now, but it was still another four miles through the wilderness to the Scorpions’ camp, where they would need to beg shelter not just for themselves, but for the McClennon boy once they’d taken him hostage.
They went the rest of the way on foot, following Zee’s carefully written instructions. No one commented on his absence, but Aster could sense it weighing on the group, the suddenness of it, the strangeness. Without his help, it took them two hours to hike through the woods. Derrick had not been able to give them his theomite ring for fear of his father noticing its absence, so they had to fend off the vengeants with only their iron-fille
d shotguns. They had all gotten better at handling firearms, and Clementine could see the vengeants even without the help of moonlight, but they still had more than a few close calls. The cold night air froze the sweat on Aster’s skin, cutting through her lungs like a blade. Fear reduced her to an animal—jumping at every sound, tensed in anticipation of pain. And this, too, like the red earth or the heavy sun, felt like coming home.
At last they reached the ghost town outside the abandoned mines where the Scorpions were based. Aster led them down the mineshaft and greeted the two young men on guard, relieved that they remembered her from their previous visit. The last thing they needed, after the long journey they’d had, was to be turned away now.
“We need to talk to Sam as soon as possible—tonight if we can,” Aster told the guard as he led them to the camp in a mine cart, its wheels squeaking noisily in the dark of the tunnel. The guard was young, perhaps only fourteen, and his mining hat was so big and loose on his head that the light atop it wobbled every time he moved.
“Well, I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” the boy said, his soft voice barely rising above the sound of the cart. “But he’s been busy as of late. More hotfoots’n ever, and not enough of us to take care of them. It’s near impossible now just to keep everyone fed.”
“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Clementine muttered from behind Aster.
“It’s good if it means folks are leaving their landmasters,” Mallow said.
“Yeah, but only if there’s somewhere better for them to go,” Tansy replied. “Bad enough they have to live underground—but now there aren’t enough beds? Isn’t enough food?”
“I thought you said the goal was to move runaways along to Ferron,” Raven said to Aster. “What are they still doing here?”
“We’ve been waiting for the tunnel system to be completed,” the boy answered before Aster could speak. “It’s almost done now, though—the tunnels are all connected-like, they just haven’t been made safe to use.”
“Now that does sound good,” Clementine said, and though Aster couldn’t see her face in the shadows she knew her sister was smiling.
They reached the end of the tunnel, climbing out of the mine cart, and the boy spread his arms as he welcomed them back to the underground city of Camp Red Claw.
“Sam’ll be in the main hall,” he said. “Do you need help getting there?”
“No, you go on back to your post. We know the way,” Aster replied.
“Thank you,” Clementine added, and the boy tipped his oversized hat before climbing back into his mine cart.
The camp was much livelier than Aster remembered it, the yawning cavern filled with the echoing noise of children as they ran between the little wood cabins the Scorpions and hotfoots called home. There were other buildings, too, all of them strung with mining lanterns that filled the camp with warm yellow light—stables for the horses, kennels for the dogs, a medical ward for the sick and injured, an armory full of guns and ammo. Largest of all the buildings, and in the center of town, was the meeting hall, which also served as dining hall and dancing hall as needed. In front of it, in the town square, stood a statue of a scorpion cut from theomite-streaked stone: it was this that protected the living from all the dead beneath the mountain.
Sam Daniels greeted them at the meeting hall. He hadn’t changed much since Aster saw him last—he was still tall, dark, and dapper, with a confident smile and a crooked nose. He was missing the last two fingers on his left hand, which he held out to Aster in welcome. His black eyes lit up at the sight of them.
“Well this is a fine surprise,” he said. “When I got word you girls were back I assumed it was just a rumor. We all heard you were dead.”
“No such luck,” Aster said, mirroring his grin and clasping his arm. Cutter strode in behind him, dressed in mining grubs, his shaggy black hair pulled back into a tail beneath his cap, his brown face, half-scarred from an old burn, smeared with grime.
“If it isn’t my favorite outlaws,” he greeted them.
“Cutter here cried for a week after he heard you’d been killed,” Sam offered.
“I did not—”
“Where is my brother?” Sam demanded.
“He’s on his way,” Cutter promised. His eyes swept over them. “Where’s Zee?”
Aster glanced at Clementine, whose breath caught behind her smile. Aster did not know how to tell the boys that Zee had run into his long-lost sister, and that that sister was now a ravener. The dead only knew where Zee and Elizabeth had disappeared to since then—Aster could only hope he kept his promise to rejoin them soon.
Aster gave her own sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Zee’s on his way, too,” Aster said carefully. “He got held up back at the train station. But he knows where to find us, of course.”
Sam’s smile faltered. “Is he in trouble?”
“No more than usual,” Aster said, hoping it was true. “But we picked up a new friend since you saw us last—Sam, Cutter, this is Raven.”
The boys introduced themselves to Raven, whose face shone with sweat despite the chill of the mines. Aster watched her carefully, remembering all too well how overwhelmed she herself had been when she’d first come to Red Claw, surrounded by loud and rough young men. Aster had reassured her that the Scorpions were good people, but still—it was hard to unlearn the lessons the welcome house had taught.
“You all look like you could use a bite,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “You just missed supper, but if you don’t mind leftovers you can help yourself to a plate while you tell us how the hell it is you’re still alive.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Aster said gratefully. “And sorry we invited ourselves over unannounced like this. We had no way to get in touch with you safely.”
“Aster, please,” Sam insisted. “You are always welcome at our table.” He looked back towards the door. “If my fool brother would be so good as to set it, that is.”
And then, as if summoned, Eli hurried through the door. He was short and stocky where his brother was long and lean, and like Cutter, he was dressed in mining gear, his dark skin shining with sweat. He pulled a rag out of his back pocket to dry his smooth-shaven head and smiled that warm, genuine smile Aster remembered so well. Her heart hitched at the sight of it.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” he said softly.
“Don’t apologize, get to work,” Sam said. “Our guests are hungry.”
“Oh—um—did you want me to prepare the ribs for tomorrow, then—?”
“No, there’s no time for that. Just heat up the chicken from tonight.”
Eli scuttled off before Aster could say hello to him, although he caught her gaze as he passed her, a question in his eyes.
So it’s true? You’re all really alive? they seemed to ask.
She smiled back at him in response, dipping her chin in a single nod.
“So go on then,” Sam said, taking a seat at the nearest table. They all gathered around him. “If the papers lied about you being dead, are they lying about your girl Violet working with McClennon, too?”
Aster sucked in a breath. “That’s actually what we came here to talk to you about…”
She told Sam and Cutter everything—about how they’d escaped McClennon’s estate and found the Lady Ghosts, about her decision to stay in Arketta while the others were borderjumped into Ferron, about her attempt to save Violet from the Northrock welcome house and the decision to burn it down. She left out any mention of working with Derrick, however. She could only imagine how a bunch of former miners would react to that news.
Guilt tugged at Aster’s chest as she spoke. Everyone who worked with the Lady Ghosts was sworn to secrecy about their existence. To talk about them openly now with people Priscilla would never work with—it felt, despite every rash decision she’d made until now, like Aster’s first true betrayal of the Lady Ghosts. After everything they’d done for her, it left a taste in her mouth sour as bile—especially since she wa
s still keeping Derrick’s involvement a secret.
But we don’t have a choice, Aster thought. We need the Scorpions’ help to save these girls.
And the Scorpions needed the Good Luck Girls’ help, too. Aster wasn’t just here holding out her hat. She would make Sam and the others see that.
Halfway through the story Eli returned, doling out plates of pulled chicken and mashed potatoes reheated on the stove. He took a seat next to Aster at the end of the table, the smell of the kitchen still clinging to his clothes. He rested his elbows on the scarred wood and folded his hands together as if to pray, but instead he just studied Aster with eyes dark as molasses—not just looking at her, as men usually did, but seeing her, asking more questions of her. Are you safe, though, Aster? Are you happy? Are you well? She felt her face heat under his gaze.
“It’s good to see you, Aster,” he said finally, his voice as surprisingly soft as she remembered.
“It’s good to be back,” she replied, swallowing.
Aster pulled her eyes away from his and continued telling her story. Last time, when she had told Eli about her vision of their two groups working together, he’d been supportive, even as he’d warned her it would be a tough sell to the other Scorpions. She hoped he would still be on her side now that it was all actually coming together.
“So, let me make sure I understand,” Sam said slowly as Aster finished. “You want to burn down the McClennons’ gambling hall in Rattlebank and demand he close his welcome houses, but in order to get away with it, you’ll have to hide out here afterward.”
“Zee said something about getting our hands on some voltric weapons from Ferron, too. To give us an advantage against the law,” Aster added hesitantly. She was not used to asking for help, and the words sat uneasily on her tongue.
Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Did he now? Always promising heaven and earth, that one. We don’t have any such weapons here, but Camp Deathstalker has a well-stocked armory. They lend out their supply to the other camps as needed. You could certainly plead your case. You’d have to be willing to make the trip yourself, though. I’m afraid I can’t be spared—you see how it is here.”
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