The Good Luck Girls

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  It was around midday that Zee insisted they stop. Aster bristled as he dismounted.

  “We ought to keep going until dark,” she said. “We rode through the day yesterday without stopping at all.”

  “It won’t do us any good to wear the horses out,” Zee said patiently. “Then they won’t be able to run when you really need them to. Let them rest and graze for a minute. I promise we’re safe here.”

  Aster had no intention of taking orders from some fool they’d just met. This particular patch of woodland didn’t look any safer than anywhere else they’d been. But then Zee made a sweeping gesture to their surroundings.

  “We have the high ground,” he explained—and sure enough, their backs were to a cliff face while the forest around them sloped down gently into the distance. “And the trees are thinner here, too. So we’ll be able to see anyone coming from any direction.”

  Zee had already made several adjustments to make it harder for the raveners to follow them, wrapping the horses’ hooves in cloth to hide their tracks and traveling downwind to mask their scent. They’d stuck to hard-packed game trails whenever they could, and whenever they couldn’t, they’d left false trails before doubling back. Their pace had slowed down to what felt like a painstaking crawl to Aster, especially compared to the full-tilt flight they’d made out of Green Creek. And now Zee wanted them to stop altogether? No, she didn’t like it, high ground or not.

  But what if he’s right? What if this is the only way to stay ahead of the people after us?

  Aster ground her teeth. She hated how little she knew about all of this, how vulnerable it made her. Zee could be setting them up for a slaughter and they would be none the wiser.

  “Have we lost the raveners yet, do you think?” Tansy asked, taking off her hat and wiping away the band of sweat it left behind.

  Zee shook his head grimly. “You can’t ever expect a tracker to lose you completely, especially when it comes to raveners. You just try to slow them down as best you can. I saw signs of at least two hunting parties tracking you out of Green Creek. I did what I could to cover your trail, but we have to assume they’ll pick it up again.”

  “Two?” Aster nearly choked on her honey drop. She’d known, of course, that someone would come after them, but still—

  “Could you tell who they were with?” she asked, trying not to let her voice betray her alarm.

  “One of them was a group of raveners from the welcome house. The others, I’d guess, were working for McClennon,” Zee said.

  And we can be sure they won’t be taking any breaks, Aster thought, watching with disbelief as the others dismounted and took long pulls from the canteen. It was clear they were all too happy to take Zee’s advice. While they were stopped he also showed them how to tap fresh water from a tree trunk with a spile, which plants in the area were edible and which were poisonous, and how to spot signs of dangerous wildlife. It wasn’t just the coyotes and the catamounts you had to watch out for, he claimed. There were tarantulas the size of a wagon wheel and bats big enough to carry off a baby goat. Rattletails. Copperheads. Black-fanged skinks.

  “Clementine survived a rattletail bite,” Mallow piped up. Aster shot her a dirty look.

  “That so?” Zee said again. “Well, it might not have been a rattletail, you know. Most snakes are actually harmless—”

  “You calling me a liar?” Clementine asked, a smile playing at her lips. She fiddled with the bracelet Aster had made her.

  “Course not!” he backtracked quickly.

  “Then a fool.”

  He seemed flustered. “I’d never—”

  “Clem,” Aster growled. She beckoned. “A word.”

  She led her sister aside, back into the shade of the trees. Clementine was still flushed and grinning.

  “You need to stop,” Aster said under her breath.

  “Stop what?”

  “Joking around with him like that. He’s not our friend.”

  A line formed between Clementine’s brows. “Not yet,” she said. “That’s the point. I’m trying to make a friend of him. We need help, Aster.”

  “Well, you need to be more careful. Everything you tell him about yourself is something he can use against you later.”

  “But I’ve hardly told him anything!”

  Not in words, maybe. But there were some things a man could read in your face, in your voice. In the way you looked at him, or didn’t. Clementine had not yet learned to control herself, not the ways she would need to survive.

  “Just … keep to yourself for now, all right?” Aster urged. “Zee hasn’t earned our trust, not by a long shot. If he seems nice, it’s because he wants something.”

  Clementine was quiet for a moment. She crossed her arms and squinted up at the sun. After two days on the road the brown of her skin had deepened to a shade Aster hadn’t seen since they were young children, lying belly-down in the dirt and watching ants creep up an old stump. A fierce protectiveness rose up in Aster’s throat.

  “All right,” Clementine agreed at last, and Aster let out a low breath.

  They rode on.

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that the knot of anxiety in Aster’s gut finally began to ease just the tiniest bit. They were about a half mile outside of the next big town, Drywell. They’d made good time, even with Zee’s extra precautions, and every hour of it had been without major incident. There was no denying that Zee’s first day with them had been a success.

  Zee found a little hollow where they could shelter for the night, a patch of dirt beneath an overhanging outcrop of rock. While everyone else hiked to a nearby stream to water the horses and wash up, Aster stayed to help Zee as he set up camp. Someone had to keep an eye on him.

  They began unpacking the saddlebags. Zee watched her from the corner of his eye. “You did good today,” he said after a moment. “I see why the others follow you.”

  Aster grunted noncommittally.

  “I’m not here to take that away from you, you know,” Zee persisted. “I’ve been trying all day to figure out how to tell you … I’m not looking to be you all’s new leader. You don’t need that, and I don’t want it. I just want to help.”

  “So you’ve mentioned once or twice.”

  “By the dead, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve tried.”

  Zee muttered a curse and left her alone. They worked in silence for a few moments more. Aster moved on to clearing away some of the brush to make room for them to sleep later. The muscles in her legs and back were strung tight from riding all day, and the simple act of bending over to pick up loose branches and stones seemed to double her soreness. Sweat cut through the film of dust on her face. Her mouth tasted like dirt. She winced as she reached for the final stone—

  —and gasped when she realized what it was.

  Aster’s stomach flipped. She dropped the bundle of branches in her hands.

  “What’s going on?” Zee asked, hurrying over. Aster pointed to the human skull, to the cracked gray cap covered in earth, to the empty eyes and the broken teeth. She thought of the Green Creek welcome house emblem, stamped on the back of every brag’s hand. A skull and roses.

  She couldn’t seem to make her mouth work.

  Zee dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Oh. Poor bastard.” He picked the skull up, brushed it off. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but this kind of thing is common out here. A lot of folks try to leave the Scab, and some desperate fools even think they have a shot at making it to Ferron, where there are no dustblood debts. But the mountains are their own death sentence.” Zee shook his head. “Maybe a better way to go than being killed at the border, though.”

  Aster had known that much, but still, to actually see the bones …

  “Why don’t more rangemen help them?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s illegal to help anyone trying to escape the Reckoning, for one. And two, most of them can’t pay for our services. It’s fairbloods who hi
re us, mostly.”

  Aster leveled her gaze on Zee, who carefully placed the skull up on the outcropping of rock, out of harm’s way.

  “And would you be helping us, if we didn’t have that big chunk of theomite to pay you with?”

  Zee furrowed his brow. “Aster, I’m not just doing this for the shine. I…” But before he could finish, the others returned. Zee dismissed himself from the conversation with obvious relief, going to greet them. Aster watched him with hawklike scrutiny.

  Once they finished setting up the camp, they settled in to eat their supper—biscuits and beans. Zee showed them how to dig a smokeless fire pit that would provide them with meager heat, and they cloaked their blankets around them to protect them from the wind.

  Zee was quiet for once. While everyone else talked over their food, he only stared silently into the fire. Maybe he was still upset that Aster had questioned his integrity? Maybe there was some danger lying ahead that he had yet to tell them about? Or maybe he was just tired, as they all were—Aster had no patience to try to divine this boy’s moods. And yet she couldn’t relax without knowing why he was so tense.

  Finally Zee stood, brushing the dust off the seat of his denims. “If you all are good for now, I’m going to make a stop in town. We’ll be needing a lot more supplies than what I usually carry around. Spare canteens, horse feed, some clothes that’ll actually fit you all … it’ll take a while, and I want to be back before dark.”

  “You have the shine for all that?” Violet asked, looking him up and down as if she sincerely doubted it.

  “My father was a gambleman, left me a bit of gold when he passed. I’ve been saving it for an emergency.” He flashed an uneasy smile. “I expect he’d agree this counts.”

  How lucky for us, Aster thought dryly. This all seemed far too good to be true.

  “We can’t accept your charity, Zee,” Clementine said.

  “It’s not charity,” Zee promised. “The theomite ring will more than cover these expenses. Every job requires supplies. It’s built into the asking price.” He smiled again. “So you all just relax until I get back, all right? You’ve earned it.”

  Aster watched Zee carefully as he readied his horse. And though Zee’s words seemed honest enough, something in his shifty manner told Aster that he was lying now. She could feel it in the nape of her neck. But lying about what?

  Maybe he’s going into town to turn us in, she thought. Aster looked around the circle. She had to tell someone. Clementine would only defend him. Mallow might do something reckless. Tansy would overthink it. But Violet …

  Aster waited until Zee left, sweating even though the cool air had raised a chill on her skin. As soon as the sound of his retreat faded, Aster hurried over to Violet, who was busy brushing out her hair with Zee’s boar-bristle brush.

  “Violet.”

  “By the dead, what now?”

  “I have to talk to you.” Aster pulled Violet aside despite her protests and explained her suspicions about Zee. Violet scowled at the idea.

  “I don’t know, Aster, why would he have waited until now?”

  Aster burned with frustration. “The hell would I know? I think I’m going to follow him. I just need to be sure. If I find out I’m right, I’ll come back and we can get a head start leaving. And if I don’t come back, I need you to get them out of here. But for now, just tell them I went after Zee because … because I thought of something else we needed him to pick up. I don’t want to worry them unnecessarily.”

  “They’ll say you’re a fool for going off on your own,” Violet sighed. “And they’ll be right.”

  “Maybe.” But if she did nothing, and Zee brought the law down on them, she would never forgive herself. “Just look after them.”

  Violet finally conceded, and as she returned to the camp, Aster slipped away. She untied her horse, mounted up, and followed Zee’s trail. She’d wanted to wait long enough that he wouldn’t know she was following him, but she was also terrified of falling too far behind. Every second counted.

  Still, she paused and tied the dustkerchief around her face once she drew near the Bone Road, her hands shaking as she did so. Everyone would be looking for her now. Even folks who might normally be sympathetic would see McClennon’s reward and think twice.

  Sudden doubt seized her. Maybe she should just go back to the girls and tell them they had to run …

  But no, they would want proof. If she was going to make them abandon the first person to offer them hope, they would demand it.

  Aster realized then, to her surprise, that she’d allowed herself to hope, too. It wasn’t much, but it was there. Like finding a copper in your pocket.

  Please, Zee, Aster thought. Let me be wrong about you.

  She clicked at her horse and guided him out onto the Bone Road. Sweat trickled down her spine. She rounded a bend and spotted two lawmen standing guard at the edge of town. That wasn’t unusual, Aster told herself. Bandits were common in these parts. These badges were just here to keep an eye out.

  So why had they stopped the two men on horseback ahead of her?

  Aster tensed, gripped her reins. But it was too late. One of the lawman had seen her and was waving her forward. His partner sent the two men on into Drywell.

  Aster’s favor prickled. She took a deep breath and trotted ahead. She was still wearing Augie’s loose stableman’s clothing, and with her hair hidden in her hat and her face covered up, she might just be able to pass for a young man in the fading light. But even so, dustbloods were often turned away from deadwalled towns if they didn’t have papers from their landmaster stating their business.

  And Aster certainly couldn’t pass for a fairblood.

  “Evening, sir,” the first lawman said as she stopped beneath the shade of a tree. His mouth was a hard line beneath his bristling blond moustache. He held up a large wanted poster with Clementine’s face on it. “Have you seen this girl?”

  Aster shook her head slowly, not daring to speak, praying they wouldn’t ask her to come into the light.

  “What about these?”

  He held up the other posters one by one. She shook her head again. Her insides crawled. When he showed Aster her own face, a spike of terror ran through her, sweat breaking out beneath the fabric of her dustkerchief.

  “All right, well, you keep an eye out, hear?” the other lawman said. His eyes were black as coal. “They killed a man. They’re dangerous. And we have reason to believe they’re in the area.”

  Aster touched the brim of her hat, and they let her through the gates. She didn’t dare exhale until they were out of sight. If her favor had burned through the dustkerchief … if the shade hadn’t hidden her own lack of a shadow … if either of the lawmen had demanded that she state her business …

  Never mind that. Just find Zee and get the rip out of here.

  Aster urged her horse down Main Street at a hurried pace, trying to steady her own breathing. Drywell seemed to be a quieter town than Killbank. Most of the shops were still open. A handful of fairblood women outside the general store gossiped to each other over their purchases. Two dustblood men hammered away at the roof of the inn, shirtless and sweating in the late sun.

  There was no sign of Zee. If he was going to turn them in, surely he would have done it when the lawmen stopped him? Had he been telling the truth after all? She hadn’t seen him in any of the shops—but then, she hadn’t been looking.

  Aster finally reached the lawmaster’s office, but Zee’s mare, Nugget, wasn’t tied to the post outside. He wasn’t there.

  She hesitated. Her favor had begun to burn with true pain now, enough to make her head swim. It would begin showing through her dustkerchief soon. She had to go back. Even if she had no proof that Zee meant them harm.

  But then, as Aster turned to make her retreat, she saw it: the Drywell welcome house.

  Aster recoiled as if she’d been slapped. The stately mansion loomed over the other buildings, all dark brick and towering gable
s. A ravener leaned easily against the door frame. Every cell in Aster’s body screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t seem to work her own limbs. When she’d escaped Green Creek, she’d meant to leave all her memories behind with it. Now they came rushing back, choking her, drowning her.

  She would die here. These men would kill her, as they’d always been meant to. Even now the ravener turned his rust-colored eyes towards her. She swallowed, and it cut like a dagger.

  That was when Aster finally saw Zee. His rangeman’s hat; his lean, shrewd face; his easy, gliding gait as he went to untie his horse. The sight of him was enough to shock her out of her terror—and turn it to rage.

  He was walking out of the welcome house.

  9

  Aster’s anger burned hot as her hidden favor. She’d known Zee was up to something, but she hadn’t ever imagined this. Her hand went to the hilt of her knife. She would gut him like a pig.

  But no, that would be suicide. Aster swung her horse around before Zee could see her. She had to get back to camp and warn the others.

  She rode off without looking back.

  Aster broke out in a sweat from the pain of her favor as she made her way up Main Street. It was as if a white-hot iron had been pressed to her skin. She gritted her teeth against the scream building in her throat. She’d waited too long. There was no way she’d be able to get past the checkpoint at the gates now. She pulled the collar of her coat up, hoping to buy herself a few extra minutes, and took a sharp turn down a side street, angling for the far edge of town. She approached the deadwall, head bowed, heart pounding, eyes trained on the lawmen ahead.

  Please don’t stop me, please don’t stop me, please don’t—

  And whether there was someone beyond the Veil looking out for her, or whether it was just luck, Aster didn’t know. But whatever it was, she rode by them unchecked.

  She released a breath. The sky was beginning to darken, blue-purple as a bruise, by the time Aster finally reached the woods. She clawed her dustkerchief away, gasping at the pain, and spurred her horse into a sprint. She had to make it back to camp before nightfall brought out the vengeants. The wind pulled at her skin as she galloped towards the outcrop.