The Sisters of Reckoning

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  Eli alone did not come to visit, too busy nursing wounds of his own. Or at least, that was what Aster told herself. Ever since she’d rejected Eli’s offer to share a tent, he’d seemed hesitant and uncertain around her, as if she were a snake that had rattled its tail. But Aster could not bring herself to apologize—and what was there to apologize for, anyway? She did not owe him physical comfort, even if it was something that a part of her wanted to give. But perhaps he was just giving her the space he now thought she wanted … and perhaps she ought to be grateful for that. She had a kidnapping and a robbery to plan and no time to worry about this kind of thing.

  At last, though, it was the day of the raid, and time for everyone to come together.

  The group met at the camp’s shooting range, where Sam and Mallow would show the rest of them how to use the voltric guns. Aster still preferred her knife to any firearm, but after everything she’d been through to get these, she couldn’t help being excited to see their potential.

  “All right, so what have we got?” Zee asked eagerly, clapping his hands together.

  “Where to even begin?” Sam said with an eager grin. He brought them over to the first open crate. “I have a little bit of experience with voltric weapons, and I’ve been working with Mal here nonstop to show her what I know. I don’t think you all should have any trouble using these, but just in case, you’ll want to get the feel for them before you set out tonight.”

  He pulled out what looked like a revolver and broke it open. In place of the spinning chamber was a thick coil. The metal whined with energy, making Aster wince instinctively. She remembered all too well hearing that sound from the armymen at the border of Ferron.

  “This is your standard voltric pistol,” Sam explained. “The coil here holds the charge. It’s what serves for ammo for weapons like these—once its energy is depleted, you remove it and insert it into a voltric source to give it a fresh charge.”

  “A voltric source?” Eli asked his brother doubtfully. He wasn’t actually going with them tonight, not with his more serious injury, but curiosity had brought him out this morning anyway.

  “Yes, like this!” Mallow chimed in. She ran over to another crate and fished out a boxy black contraption bristling with wires. “You use steam to generate power to this box, which then transfers that power to the coils over the course of several hours. Then—”

  “We don’t need to know the details,” Aster interrupted, holding up her hand. “We just need to know how many shots that pistol can fire before the coil needs to be recharged, since, clearly, we’re not going to be able to recharge it once we’re out there.”

  Sam and Mallow looked at her like little kids who’d been told to put their toys away. Sam sighed in disappointment.

  “Right, well, it’s not an exact science—it depends on environmental circumstances such as humidity and altitude,” he said. “But, on average, you should expect between ten to twelve voltric bolts from each fully charged coil.”

  “Wait—ten to twelve? That’s it?” Raven asked incredulously. “You all went halfway to hell and paid a small fortune for us to get ten to twelve shots each?”

  “Ten to twelve voltric shots,” Sam said quickly. “A bolt of voltricity is much more useful than a bullet; one shot anywhere on the body is enough to incapacitate a man. Your aim won’t have to be nearly as precise, and a ravener who would normally be immune to the pain of a bullet will still seize up from the shock long enough for you to tie him up or get away. All of this is assuming you’re using nonlethal charges, of course—if you flip this switch here, to give your weapon a lethal charge, each shot will be powerful enough to stop a man’s heart, but you’ll only have half as many. Five or six.”

  “This is horrifying,” Tansy volunteered.

  “Listen, it’s actually less horrifying than the alternative, Tanz,” Mal reassured her. “You can’t kill someone, or even seriously hurt them, unless you really mean to.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Aster muttered, taking one of the pistols from the crate for herself. She didn’t want to kill anyone tonight, not if she could help it. But if it came down to it, she wasn’t going to hesitate. They would not hesitate to kill her.

  Derrick’s words echoed in her mind. These people believe you to be monsters. You cannot prove them right.

  She gritted her teeth. He didn’t understand.

  Aster walked over to the row of targets, trying to hold the gun steady in her hand. She practiced with firearms regularly now, but it still took her a moment to conquer her fear every time. She couldn’t afford to freeze up when the time came tonight.

  She counted to seven and back, steadying her breathing, looking down the sights, feeling the warm hum of energy between her hands. She squeezed the trigger.

  CRACK! A jagged bolt of blue-purple light thundered toward the target at the end of the room. Aster leapt back in surprise, letting the gun drop from her hand.

  “Well? What do you think?” Mallow said excitedly.

  “I think that’ll do just fine,” Aster muttered, a grin slowly spreading across her face.

  They all took turns with the sidearms, then moved on to the long guns, then the crank cannon, an enormous beast on wheels that let out a continuous stream of lightning. As Sam had predicted, it didn’t take long for them to get the hang of how these new weapons were handled, but Aster could tell they were all surprised by the difference in power. Zee and Raven seemed delighted, while Clementine and Tansy seemed frightened. Eli just looked unhappy to be left out. As much as Aster would have appreciated his reassuring, steady presence, a part of her was relieved he wasn’t coming. Eli was becoming a … distraction. And this job would require focus.

  “All right, so we all know how to shoot the damn things,” Aster said as they took out all the coils to recharge them before nightfall. “But Mal, are you sure they’re going to be enough for tonight?” She turned to Raven, who was helping Sam unstrap a rifle from his back. “Raven, you got the closest look at the place. What exactly are we dealing with?”

  Raven pulled out her journal from her satchel and spread it open to the two-page drawing she’d made of the gambling hall. Her portraits had a certain softness to them, the corners carefully sanded down by the pad of her thumb, but this was the sharp, clear work of a technical draftsman. Aster had not even known, until Raven had first showed it to her, that she was capable of such precise work.

  “Right, so the gambling hall has three points of entry, with two raveners guarding each one. There’s the main entrance in the front, a back door that leads to a veranda, and a service entrance on the side for the staff.” Raven pointed these each out. “There are also raveners inside, of course, to watch out for foul play. Derrick tells us there’re six of those, as well—three on each floor.” She looked up, arching her eyebrow at Aster. “So … twelve raveners versus the six of us.”

  “And, not to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to consider the human lawmen, too,” Tansy pointed out. “How long do you reckon we’ll have before they show up?”

  Aster remembered their bank robbery, when a whole town of lawmen had come after them. She scowled. How were they supposed to do that again, and get away from a dozen raveners?

  “And don’t forget the patrons of the gambling hall will likely be armed to the teeth as well,” Eli said with a low chuckle. “This is the Scab, after all.”

  “We’re not to engage with the regular folk,” Aster said to that. “Derrick was clear on that matter. If we do, he walks.”

  Eli said nothing, though Aster could see his jaw working. An awkward silence fell over the room.

  “Well, obviously we wouldn’t want to do anything to upset Derrick McClennon. We have to do exactly as he says, after all,” Sam said lightly.

  “It’s not like that,” Aster insisted. “He just—he says we need to show the world that we’re not looking to start mindless violence here. That regular fairblood families have nothing to fear from us. We’ll need them on our
side before the end.”

  But even as she spoke, the words felt false in Aster’s mouth. Did she really believe that? Or was she just afraid to do what needed doing?

  We’re long past the point of trying to convince anyone. They’ve had hundreds of years to do the right thing and done nothing. I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for forcing them into action now—

  She shook her head. There wasn’t time for philosophical debates, not when they were about to start this job.

  “Look,” she said, looking around the room. “I’m not saying lie down and die if one of these gamblemen takes a shot at you. I’m just saying not to start anything with them, hear? We’re going after the raveners and the lawmen because they’re the ones enforcing the violence we want to change. We have to keep our story straight.”

  Clementine raised a hand. “I thought our story was that we were robbers?”

  Aster sighed. “Yes, that’s how we’ll play it off in the moment. But after the fact, once the gambling hall is burned down and Derrick is safely in our clutches, we’re going to make our demands to the government, and they need to know we weren’t targeting civilians.”

  They all looked at each other uncertainly.

  “Anyone else? Any questions?” Aster asked. “No? Then let’s continue.”

  17

  They rode out to Rattlebank on horseback, slipping down the darkened Bone Road like coyotes on the hunt. The cool night air whispered deliciously over Aster’s skin, her first taste of fresh air since descending into the Scorpions’ underground hideout. The bright eye of the moon hung in a cloudless blue-black sky, spilling light between the skeletal fingers of the branches above. Vengeants flickered in and out of sight in the corner of Aster’s eye as they passed through the curtains of silver, wailing sorrowfully. Her arms rippled with gooseflesh, and her stomach was in a free fall of fear she tried not to let the others see. Iron wardants lined the Bone Road to keep the dead at bay, but she wouldn’t feel completely safe until they had secured the theomite from the gambling hall.

  Of course, by then, we’ll have the living to worry about, she thought, wetting her cracked lips. Violet was already at the gambling hall with Derrick, surrounded by raveners. They couldn’t risk blowing their cover, of course, and so wouldn’t be able to help during the firefight. Aster doubted Violet was even armed. The thought of her getting injured, or even killed, in the cross fire filled Aster with a dread greater than any the hungry dead could press upon her. And then of course there was Zee, who now had his little sister to look after; and Raven, who had never been in a firefight before; and Tansy and Mallow, who had sacrificed their freedom to be here; and Clementine, Aster’s only family and best friend …

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to go to a gambling hall,” Zee said idly, perhaps to cut through the tense silence they had all fallen into. He and Clem were at the back of the line, driving a wagon in which they’d hidden their spare weapons. “It’s a shame we can’t have a few hands before we hold the place up.”

  “Zee, how the hell did you ever manage to convince anyone your father was a professional gambleman if you’ve never even seen the inside of one of these places?” Mallow cracked.

  Aster couldn’t see Zee’s face from her position at the front of the line, but she could imagine it reddening beneath his brown skin.

  “Guess I was just lucky I was only ever trying to convince fools,” he retorted.

  “Well, if trusting you to be a halfway decent person makes me a fool, then paint my nose red and send me to the circus—”

  Aster tuned them out as they continued bickering in low tones. She rode with Raven, who, like all the girls, wore a dustkerchief and ghostweed salve to cover her favor. They did not yet want to reveal their identities to the rest of the world—being presumed dead had given Aster freedom, and she had little enough of that to spare.

  “You seem nervous,” Raven said quietly, though she herself was grinning with excitement—Aster could practically feel it on the nape of her neck.

  “Of course I am,” she muttered. “We’re about to raise hell in this town. I’ve raised enough hell in my time to know what that means.”

  “Well, I haven’t raised hardly any hell in my time, so believe me when I tell you I’m ready for tonight.” She raised her voltric pistol and made mocking zapping noises. “Zztt, zztt! These bastards are about to feel the wrath of the ancestors.”

  Aster was too tense to join in on her laughter. She glanced over her shoulder. “Ray, I need you to take this seriously.”

  “What, like those two?” she asked sarcastically, gesturing at Mallow and Zee, who were still trading insults.

  Aster’s face grew hot. “I need them to take this seriously, too! Look, this kind of thing sounds great when you’re telling the story later, but you have no idea how many times we almost got someone killed out here. Hell, we all thought Violet had been killed. There’s about a thousand things that can go wrong tonight. And if we’re not careful, if we’re not focused—”

  “Hey, easy, it’s going to be okay, Aster,” Clementine promised her. “Don’t get in your own head, hear? Raven’s right—the dead are with us.”

  Aster said nothing, wishing she had her sister’s faith that the seraphants beyond the Veil were watching them, guiding them. But if that were true, then where had they been the day she’d been sold to the welcome house? Or on her Lucky Night?

  No, Aster thought—they were on their own.

  It wasn’t much longer before they reached town, its deadwall rising up before them, the theomite dust in its mortar glittering in the moonlight. There were lawmen guarding the entrance, as always, but now that Aster and the rest of the Green Creek runaways had allegedly been executed, the law wasn’t checking travelers’ identities the way they had been before.

  There are still more of them than ever, though, Aster thought grimly.

  Rattlebank was busier tonight than it had been a week ago, which would only serve to make the job ahead more difficult. They rode single file between the groups of drunken men and the badges trying to corral them, Aster lowering the brim of her hat to avoid meeting anyone’s eye. Once they reached the gambling hall she dismounted and tied her horse to a post, motioning for the others to do the same. Several men were drinking or smoking outside the hall, the ends of their cigars glowing cherry red. And, as expected, two raveners guarded the door—one thin and twisted as scrub brush, the other built like a slab of stone. Their orange eyes flashed like a cat’s.

  “All right,” Aster murmured, looking around at her friends. Noise and light spilled from the gambling hall, threatening to drown out her words and bathing their half-covered faces in a yellow-orange glow. Aster’s heart kicked in her chest and her head swam with adrenaline, but she forced her voice to remain steady for the others. “Just like we planned, understand? Watch each other’s backs and meet back at Red Claw if anything goes wrong.”

  They all nodded, and, with one last breath to prepare herself, Aster led them towards the main entrance.

  “Evening,” Zee said, nodding to strangers as they passed. One of the strangers spat his chaw, but the others just suspiciously watched them walk by. Everyone in their group had hidden their weapons under their long duster coats, but even so, they cut intimidating figures. The skinny ravener held his hand up to stop them at the entrance.

  “Going to have to ask you to remove your dustkerchiefs before you enter the building. Boss’s orders.”

  Aster glanced tightly over to Zee. Derrick hadn’t warned them about this.

  “Since when?” Tansy asked calmly.

  “Since we ripping said so, dustblood,” he said roughly. “Folks feel too confident starting trouble when their faces are covered. We don’t want that here. This is a fine establishment—too fine for the likes of you, seems to me.”

  Aster thought quickly. They needed to be seen kidnapping Derrick, for the sake of his story, but on the way out, not in. Their plan had been to get as close to Derrick as po
ssible before holding up the gambling hall so they wouldn’t have to fight their way towards him. He’d warned them they wouldn’t be allowed in his private room, but to be stopped right here at the front door …

  The other ravener drew himself up, hitting them with a wave of fear. Aster’s insides loosened and her pulse quickened, panic shooting through her veins.

  “He said remove your kerchiefs. If that’s going to be a problem—”

  Maybe it was the sudden surge of fear in her blood. Maybe it was the impatience of weeks spent leading up to this moment. Maybe it was just her anger at the way the ravener addressed them. But before she realized what she was doing, the voltric pistol was in her hand. She pointed it at his chest.

  “I’m afraid it is,” she said.

  He reacted more quickly than she’d expected, even though she knew how supernaturally fast raveners could be. He grabbed her wrist with frightening strength, flipped her over to the ground. Aster’s fear then was entirely her own, a helpless cry escaping her lips. She scrambled backwards, looking up into the barrel of the gun the ravener was now pointing at her. His partner drew his own weapon and pointed it at the rest of the group. The other men loitering on the porch let out cries of surprise or whoops of delight at the promise of a brawl.

  “You better clear out now, hear?” the second ravener roared. “All of you—”

  CRACK!

  Lightning ripped through the air. Hit the ravener square in the ribs. The ravener standing over Aster snarled and swung his gun around, only to be struck in the shoulder with another ribbon of blue-white light. On the other end of it stood Mallow, her voltric pistol humming with power.