“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, we’re almost finished,” Mallow hissed. Only one more platter of glasses to go. Aster worked as quickly as she could to empty her vial, her hand shaking, the glass slipping from her sweaty fingers—
There.
“Done,” she said, grinning loosely. “Let’s go.”
Aster and the others balanced the platters on their palms and started upstairs. Aster fought for calm with every step she took, counting her breaths, willing her heart to slow. It would not do to arouse the landmasters’ suspicion. But as long as she could just get through this toast—
They entered the ballroom.
The first thing Aster noticed was the vast mural of the mountains that covered the ceiling, the craquelure of the paint spidering across the face of it like the cracked earth of the desert floor. Beneath it, their voices overlapping in soft murmurs, their shadows playing beneath the light of the grand gasoliers, mingled the most powerful men left in Arketta—landmasters great and small, architects of government and titans of industry, their well-dressed wives on their arms like birds of paradise. There, just a stone’s throw away, stood Jonah Boyle, warden of the south, and not far beyond him, Henry McClennon, Derrick’s father. Jerrod McClennon was already standing at the front of the room, making his opening remarks. And at his side—
Lizzy Greene.
A punch of shock hit Aster in the gut. She’d been shot in her arm. Even with a ravener’s healing, there was no way she should have been able to recover in time for this event. McClennon would not deign to look twice at the servants, but Lizzy might. If she recognized their faces in the crowd—
Aster turned to warn everyone, but her friends had gotten swept up into the chaos so quickly she had already lost them. The words curdled in her mouth. Her heart fluttered sickly.
“You there! I didn’t get a drink,” some woman snapped, tapping Aster on the shoulder.
“Oh—s-sorry, ma’am—” Aster stammered, and she held the platter out to the woman. Soon several of the guests were swarming for a glass, whispering insistently so as not to interrupt McClennon’s speech. It was all Aster could do to keep from dropping the platter. All the while she kept her eyes down and her back half turned to the stage so Zee’s sister would not see her. She could only hope her friends were doing the same.
“And so now, a toast, to a new era of peace and prosperity in this singular great nation,” McClennon finally declared. “Does everyone have a glass?”
The last glasses on Aster’s platter were snatched up. The guests all held their drugged drinks high. Aster finally risked a glance up to the stage, peering from behind a marble column. And Lizzy—like everyone else in the room—seemed to be focused only on McClennon. Aster’s heart kicked again, this time with hope, her stomach twisting giddily.
They were going to do this. They were going to pull this off.
“Glory to the Reckoning!” McClennon declared, holding up his own glass.
“GLORY TO THE RECKONING!” the room roared in response.
Everyone lifted their drinks to their lips—
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with some sudden realization.
“STOP!” she cried out, and she knocked the glass from McClennon’s hand.
29
Shrieks of surprise rippled through the room. But for most of the guests, the warning seemed to come too late—they had swallowed the drugged champagne, and they began to fall to the ground within seconds. The raveners held on a moment longer, but then they, too, crumpled to the floor. Aster couldn’t help feeling a brief rush of triumph as she watched them drop, these men and women who thought themselves so powerful as to be invincible. The only people who remained standing were a few panicked guests who hadn’t taken a drink in time, the baffled servants, Aster’s friends, scattered across the ballroom, and …
Jerrod McClennon, his face gone white with rage, his glass shattered at his feet. Elizabeth had put herself in front of him, her ember-orange eyes smoldering with deadly intent.
“It’s the Reckoners, see?” she told him. “Dressed as servants. I’d recognize my brother anywhere, even from the back.”
“You…” McClennon said slowly, his gaze flicking from Aster to each of the others. “You—”
Aster swallowed back a rush of panic. She flicked her gaze back to each of her friends, who looked just as stricken as she felt. They were all so far away from each other they might as well all of them have been alone.
“NOBODY MOVE!” McClennon bellowed, finally seeming to find his voice. “You are all to turn yourselves over peacefully! Any of you dustbloods so much as flinch and you’ll be shot where you stand. The rest of you”—McClennon gestured to the half dozen or so guests who hadn’t fainted—“clear out of here. Go get help.”
The landmasters scattered like rats. Lizzy jumped down from the stage, landing on silent feet, her shotgun already in hand as she walked towards Aster. Cries of fear echoed shrilly in the vast space as the ravener approached. Aster tensed, wet her lips, instinctively reaching for a revolver that wasn’t there. Her only weapon was the knife hidden in her boot. She could pretend to surrender, get in close—
A sudden blur of movement to Aster’s left. She looked to the corner of her eye.
It was Zee, running forward towards his sister, leaping between the bodies on the floor.
Zee—
“No!” Clementine wailed, and now she was running after him.
Aster didn’t think, sprinting for her sister. Time seemed to slow and tunnel around her. She passed a fallen ravener, grabbed his gun. Kept running.
Lizzy raised the gun, now training it squarely on Zee—
“Stop!” Zee shouted, raising his hands. “Sister, please—stop.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” she shouted back, and Zee barely ducked in time to avoid the blast from her shotgun, covering Clementine protectively. “Not when you left me to die.”
Aster finally reached Zee, and the others weren’t far behind, all of them clustering around him. Aster pointed her stolen revolver at Lizzy’s chest. Now they were in a standoff. Over Lizzy’s shoulder, Aster could see McClennon watching them carefully.
“We don’t want to hurt you, Lizzy,” Aster said, her voice shaking, and she meant it. This could not continue.
“If you didn’t want to hurt me, you should have killed me in the cradle. It would have been a kindness.” Aster felt a twinge of horror and surprise at the anger lacing through her voice. Raveners weren’t supposed to feel anger, weren’t supposed to feel anything. But then, it took time for a person to be consumed by that dark power completely—and Lizzy hadn’t been a ravener for very long.
Maybe confronting her brother was bringing some lost part of her to the surface.
“Elizabeth—” Zee said softly, his voice breaking.
“Every day I lose a little more of myself, and every day I thank the dead for it,” Lizzy cut him off. “This”—she thumped her chest, as if they would hear the hollow where her heart had once been—“is the only way to move through this wretched world.”
“You’re right to be angry,” Zee tried again, taking a step towards her, hands still raised. “With me, with the world … I should have done more to protect you from it. But please, Lizzy, just let me make it right. Put the gun down. Let us help you—”
Zee stretched out his hand towards her, but she let out a sound that was half snarl, half sob, thrusting her gun in his face.
“You can’t help me. You can’t even help yourself. Look at you, Ezekiel, desperate and dirty and running from the law. What can you offer me that these landmasters can’t?” She jerked her head back at McClennon, who still hadn’t moved, standing tense and ready on the stage, his beady blue eyes watching them closely. “He’s given me shine. He’s given me power. He’s given me a gun, and the freedom to use it. What have you ever given me other than grief?”
And Aster felt that grief then, a gaping ache in her chest, an unbearable heaviness in her belly, betrayal an
d bitterness and misery come together as one. Elizabeth sent it all out in a wave—though judging from the broken look on her face, she didn’t even realize she was doing it. Hot tears streamed down Aster’s cheeks. Mallow let out a choked cry. Even Raven’s knees buckled. Elizabeth pressed the muzzle of her gun to Zee’s forehead.
“Answer me!”
“He loves you!” Clementine cried, pressing herself to Zee’s side. “We love you. Even now. Especially now. You’re family, you’re ours. We’ll always want the best for you, even if we can’t always give it. We love you, Elizabeth. And that man”—she pointed to McClennon—“doesn’t.”
“We can take him down, Lizzy,” Zee pleaded softly, unflinching in the face of the gun. “It’s not too late to fix this. You’ll be free, and we can go home.”
A pained sort of understanding seemed to flicker across Elizabeth’s face. She let out a shuddering breath. Lowered her weapon. Aster held her breath. Their words were working, Elizabeth was finally coming around—
The crack of a gunshot tore through the room. A blossom of blood flowered across Elizabeth’s chest. Her jaw fell open in pain and surprise, her eyes shimmering with unspilled tears, the light behind them fading. Behind her, still on the stage, McClennon stood with a revolver raised level.
“NO!” Zee cried out as if he had been the one shot. He caught his sister in his arms. “No! Damn you!”
“Worthless. You’re worthless, all of you,” McClennon sneered. “My father warned me never to trust a dustblood with real work.” He turned the gun on Zee then, but Aster was quicker on the draw, firing two shots in rapid succession, anger searing through her. They hit McClennon in the hand, and he howled in pain, clutching his bloodied fingers to his chest as he fell to the floor.
“You shut the hell up!” Aster snarled, stalking towards him. She climbed the stage, her gun still held high. “You’re done, hear? It’s over. No one’s coming for you. All your remaining allies are in this room. All your raveners have been taken out. Our people are burning down this city as we speak. The law will never get past them. So now it’s just you”—Aster pistol-whipped him across the temple, eliciting another howl—“and us until this thing is settled. No one leaves this building until you give in to our demands.”
McClennon laughed acidly, an ugly sound that turned into a hacking cough as he forced himself up into a sitting position. Blood trickled down his forehead.
“Then we are going to be here a very long time, Lucker,” he said, and he spat at her feet.
Aster backed away, disgusted. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of Zee sobbing, and of Clementine trying to comfort him, and Aster’s wrath burned white at the edges of her vision.
Her finger slid over the trigger.
Maybe she should just end this now …
Rapid footsteps echoed from the far end of the ballroom. Someone else was coming. Aster whirled around.
Derrick.
Aster let out a tense breath. Derrick looked winded from running so hard, but he didn’t stop until he was at Zee’s side with the others. He looked down at Elizabeth’s body, then back up to Aster, his eyes wide.
“Aster?” he asked, a waver in his voice. “I—I heard gunshots. What happened here?”
“Derrick—I—”
“Derrick,” McClennon interrupted, letting out another ugly laugh. “That is you, isn’t it? I almost didn’t recognize you. Of course you’re here. Of course you’re a part of this farce. I should’ve known.”
“It’s not a farce, Uncle,” Derrick said, his voice grown cold and steely. He climbed up on the stage next to Aster, looking down at McClennon. “It’s a Reckoning, and it’s long overdue.”
“Please. Don’t try to pass yourself off as man of substance, Derrick. Everyone can see you’re a worthless, whimpering little boy. Your father knew it; that’s why he foisted you off on me. Your brother knew it; that’s why he beat you like the dog you are. And these dustbloods knew it, too; that’s why they were able to turn you so easily. They’re cunning beasts, they prey on weakness. I’m sure they had their fill of you.”
“I told you to shut the hell up!” Aster snapped at McClennon, raising the butt of her gun to hit him again. He backed away, his good hand held up in defense.
“Don’t bother, I have nothing more to say to him. This little rat was dead to us already.”
Derrick’s face had gone white as bone. His mouth twitched, but he didn’t speak. He crouched on his knees so he was eye level with his uncle.
“It is you who are weak, Uncle,” he said finally, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “And every day I spend away from our wretched family I grow stronger. So just know this: there are many in this room who would not hesitate to take your life, and all of them have more right to the pleasure than me—but I count myself among their number.”
It was McClennon’s face that paled then, his mask of crass indifference slipping at last. Derrick stood and turned his back on him.
“Where do you need me, Aster?” Derrick asked.
Aster looked out over the ballroom. Clementine was cradling Zee in her arms now. His sobs had quieted, but they still echoed in Aster’s ears like a vengeant’s wails. The others, though, looked deadlier than Aster had ever seen them, their hardened gazes trained on Elizabeth’s body or Jerrod McClennon. Aster could feel the anger moving between them like a living thing, a catamount with its fangs bared and a roar building in its chest.
It was time to put that rage to use.
There were over one hundred members of the Landmasters’ Guild asleep at her feet—more than enough leverage to convince Authoritant Lockley to make the Reckoners’ demands law. He was a weak man, Derrick had told them again and again. He did the Guild’s bidding because he was afraid of them.
Let him see how powerless they really were.
It was time the authoritant stopped fearing his friends and started fearing his people.
* * *
They fetched the butcher’s twine from the kitchen and tied the landmasters and raveners up like sides of meat. Then they took the raveners downstairs and locked them in a storage room, where they wouldn’t be able to use their psychic powers against anyone. The other dustblood servants had all been allowed to leave, of course, so the only ones left in the ballroom now were the landmasters themselves. They came around slowly, shock and confusion seeming to settle in as they took stock of the situation. They looked like completely different people than the well-dressed, elegant socialites they’d been when the night started. Now their clothes were dirty and disheveled, and their looks of cool superiority had been replaced by red-faced rage. They cursed the Reckoners foully, spittle flying from their lips. They promised all manner of bloody revenge. But Aster was numb to it, and her friends seemed to be, too. There was no pleasure in this work, only grim determination. Zee’s sister had already died for the sake of this plan. They had to see it through.
“Word from outside is that the Scorpions have managed to form a perimeter around the building. The law’s not getting through, at least not tonight,” Violet reported, patrolling next to Aster. A woman on the ground donkey-kicked at them with her patent leather shoes as they passed, and Violet jumped back, curling her lip. “Watch it, asshole—”
Aster gave a curt nod, ignoring the scuffle. “Good, that’s good. Were we able to get our message out?”
“Yeah. The local lawmaster knows we’ve got the whole Landmasters’ Guild hostage here, and that we’re not planning to let them go until Authoritant Lockley gives in to our demands. I’m sure he’ll send word up the chain.”
“All right. Perfect. I’ll make an announcement—”
“Aster…” Violet touched Aster gently on the shoulder, stopping her. “Look, it’s been a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer. Why don’t you let me take over and you can catch a couple hours of sleep? Zee and Clem took Elizabeth somewhere quiet. You could join them.”
Aster shook her head. She was exhausted, yes, sickeningl
y so, but she could not stop now. She did not want to let her thoughts catch up to her.
“We need you well rested,” Violet insisted.
“How the hell is anyone supposed to rest with the way they’re carrying on?” Aster asked bitterly. The landmasters’ never-ending, outraged cries echoed so loudly through the ballroom that Aster could barely hear herself think.
Violet smiled, though there was no humor in it. “We learned to sleep through the vengeants’ keening. This isn’t half so bad as that.”
Well, that was the truth if Aster had ever heard it … but still …
“Vi, I can’t.”
Aster strode forward to the stage before Violet could talk her out of it. She clapped her hands for attention.
“Listen up!” Aster shouted over the crowd.
“Lucker scum! You’ll pay for this—”
“Listen up!” she continued, and they quieted as she began delivering new information. “The lawmaster’s office has been made aware of your situation, and they’ll have gotten a voltragram directly to the authoritant himself before the hour’s end. I expect a negotiator on the authoritant’s behalf sometime early tomorrow. I want you all to think carefully about what you’ll tell this man when the time comes. If you tell him to agree to our demands, you can all walk out of here by sundown.”
“Why would we ever agree to your demands after this?” one man cried out.
“Because if you don’t, we’ll all of us die here,” Aster said roughly. She pointed to Jerrod McClennon, now sitting trussed up next to his brother Henry, a fresh bandage on his injured hand, a scowl on his face. “When my friends and I were guests of Mr. McClennon, he told us that if we wanted to eat, we’d have to work for it. Well, now that you’re in our care, the same rules apply—do the hard work of righting the wrongs you’ve lived by for generations, and then, and only then, will you be allowed back into the world.”
“We’ll never give in to the likes of you,” Henry McClennon declared, and the room erupted into noise again. Aster left the stage.
The Sisters of Reckoning Page 32