“Until what?” Violet demanded.
Zee and Cutter exchanged a look. Zee nodded. “You can trust them.”
“Until we finish connecting the mines underground so we can take people out of Arketta and into Ferron, where dustblood debts don’t exist,” Cutter finished. “No way in hell to get across the border, heavily as it’s guarded, so we’re going under it.”
Aster stared, checking to make sure Cutter wasn’t joking. The stories she had heard growing up, about how you could cross the length of the Scab through its mines if you knew the way …
Maybe not quite stories after all.
Like Lady Ghost? she wondered.
But no, that was different. There was nothing about building these underground camps that required unnatural power. Undoing a curse like a favor, though …
No. That was different.
“So the hotfoots are the people on the run, and the Scorpions are the people who shelter them?” Violet asked, shaking her head. “And your goal is to one day help smuggle them out of the country altogether so they never have to answer to the law?”
Cutter either didn’t hear the disapproval in her voice or didn’t care. “Damn right!” he said, his grin sharp as a knife. “Which means we’re wanted by the law, too, of course. That’s why we call ourselves Scorpions—we have to live underground, only come out at night. But we’re still plenty dangerous to anyone fool enough to cross us.”
The mine cart slowed as they neared the end of the tunnel, which shone up ahead with warm yellow light. Cutter eased them to a stop and vaulted out over the side, then offered his hand to help Aster and the others climb out. Aster’s stomach turned at his touch, even though she knew he meant well.
“I sent someone ahead to let Captain Daniels know the situation is under control,” Cutter went on. “He’ll want to talk to you first thing tomorrow morning, but for now, let’s just get you all to your beds. I know you’ve had a long night.”
Thank the dead. They were all exhausted. Aster wanted nothing more than to put this endless night behind her.
But then they stepped out of the tunnel, and she was shocked back into wakefulness.
Aster had expected the camp to be little more than a collection of bunks stuffed in an old abandoned supplies room or two. From what she knew of mines, they were miserably close and cramped. Their journey so far had only confirmed that.
Now, though, they’d entered an underground city.
A yawning cavern stretched out ahead of them, maybe a thousand feet across and a hundred feet high. Though the roof bristled with stalactites, some big enough to spear a hellhorse, the ground had been scraped and smoothed into an even surface. Ramshackle wooden shanties clustered around the perimeter, while a larger building towered in the center: the meeting hall, Cutter explained, where everyone took their meals and assignments. He also pointed out the stables, where their horses were being taken, and the medical ward, where Mallow was being seen to, and the underground lake, where everyone drew their water. Mining lamps were strung across buildings and between them, chasing away the shadows. And standing in the town square, sculpted by an expert hand: a red-clawed scorpion made of theomite-streaked stone.
That’s how they keep the vengeants away.
Like the crude iron guardians people propped outside their houses, but far more beautiful and powerful.
“By the Veil, you could all be rich as kings if you took that to market!” Clementine murmured, eyes widening at the sight.
“Ah, but we’d be dead kings, because it’s the only thing keeping us safe from the spirits down here,” Cutter said with a chuckle as he led them through the narrow walkways. “Most of us used to be miners, so we know how to find traces of theomite, even in mines that have been abandoned. There’s never enough, though.”
“Are all the Scorpion camps this big?” Aster asked.
He shook his head. “This is actually one of the biggest ones—four dozen souls here. We’re lucky we found this cave system so close to the abandoned tunnels. Most of the other camps are much smaller, can only support one or two families at a time.”
Cutter stopped in front of a house with a hole in its roof, fiddled with the doorknob, and led them inside. It was sparsely furnished: six stacked bunks and a table with a lamp. Their saddlebags and supplies had already been sent ahead for them.
“The family that was staying here just got moved along to Camp White Eye last week. I’m sorry about the roof. Been meaning to get it fixed.”
After two weeks of sleeping rough, these accommodations felt almost luxurious.
“It’s perfect,” Aster said, her exhaustion returning.
“Thanks, brother,” Zee agreed.
Cutter grinned. “If you need anything else, I’m right next door.” He pointed to a house with a flag hanging from the front—a black circle with nine spokes against blue fabric, the banner of the Nine. That flag alone would’ve been enough to get him executed aboveground.
Things really were different down here.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cutter said, and he left them.
Aster exhaled, and Clementine wrapped her in a hug, her sister’s relief seemingly too deep for words. Clem pulled away after a heartbeat. “Do you think they’ll be able to help Mallow?” she asked.
“I trust them to do better for her than anyone else could,” Aster answered carefully. She shared her sister’s anxiety, but she didn’t want to show it.
“Mal is tough. She’ll get through this,” Zee promised, taking off his hat for the night. “And they’ve seen worse here, believe me.”
Aster crossed her arms. “Right, go on and say it, then. Get it off your chest.”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“That you were right to bring us here. I obviously had my doubts.”
“I still do,” Violet chimed in. She had already climbed up to one of the top bunks and was sitting in the corner, balled up with her knees to her chest. Her shadow hovered protectively over her shoulder. “We’ve had no choice but to break the law. These people … they’ve made a life of it.”
“‘These people’ just welcomed you into their home,” Aster reminded her.
“They almost blew us to bits.”
“Well, who hasn’t wanted us dead, by this point? I thought they showed admirable restraint.”
Violet hmphed and lay down with her back to them. Aster and Zee smirked at each other.
“Anyway, I mean it. Thank you, Zee,” Aster said. “You’ve saved our lives. Again.”
The rest of them picked out bunks and settled down for the night. It had been so long since Aster had slept in a bed that the softness of it shocked her, even if the mattress was lumpy and prickly with hay. Compared to the woods, the quietness here was profound. No crickets or bullfrogs, no wind in the trees. The vengeants’ cries had been reduced to a distant murmur. The darkness, too, was completely devoid of stars, and looking up through the hole in the roof was like looking upon the Veil.
Maybe this is what it feels like—to be dead and buried, she thought.
The idea should have filled Aster with dread, but instead she just felt a sudden and overwhelming peace: she was beyond the reach of the living. They couldn’t hurt her here. She fell into her deepest sleep in years.
15
Morning came too quickly. There was no sunrise to wake them, but the sound of a breakfast bell rang out through camp and startled Aster out of her sleep. She bolted upright, squinting in the lamplight. Mallow and Tansy’s beds were still empty—they must have spent the night in the medical ward. Aster’s stomach clutched with panic.
Zee was already up and jumping into his boots. “Cutter stopped by, said Sam was waiting for us in the meeting hall, along with Tansy and Mallow. Don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Oh, thank the dead: Mal had made it. Her death would have been on Aster’s head; Aster felt this with sickening certainty now. The others looked to her to lead, and she had put their lives in dange
r by forcing the bank robbery. Even if that hadn’t been the reason Zee had been discovered, the ugly truth still remained: she’d let herself get reckless. She’d lost sight of what mattered most.
Keeping her sister and the others safe.
She swallowed. “Right, then, we’d better hurry.”
The camp was much more lively now than it’d been when they’d first arrived in the small hours of the morning. Most of the hotfoots appeared to be young men like Cutter, but there were a couple of families milling around, too, children chasing each other through the narrow walkways or tugging at their mothers’ hands. An old man sat on a little stool in front of his house, stitching up a hole in his hat. Three young girls played skip with a rotting old rope. Aster was reminded of the rundown mining camp where she’d grown up, but there was something subtly different about this place, as if a cloud had blown clear of the sun. Everyone stood straighter, laughed louder, met one another’s eyes as they passed.
They’re not afraid, Aster thought at first, but then she realized that wasn’t quite right. They still had plenty to be afraid of, as Cutter had made clear enough last night. But they weren’t ashamed. There was no one here to look down on them, no one they had to prove themselves to. Aster was suddenly sure this was how dustbloods would have looked before they’d had their shadows stripped away—before they’d been known as dustbloods at all.
Zee fiddled with his cuffs as they neared the meeting hall, rolling them up and back down again.
“What’s wrong?” Clem asked.
“Just nervous, is all. I haven’t seen Sam in ages. What if we hardly know each other anymore?”
“How’d you and Sam meet?” Aster asked.
“I first crossed paths with him five years ago around Black Valley. He was on his way back to one of the camps after a hunting trip, but he’d slipped while scaling a rock wall and broken his leg. I still have no idea how he survived such a long fall—and maybe he wouldn’t have if we hadn’t come along to help him, who knows. But he’s had quite the reputation ever since—too stubborn to die.”
Aster didn’t give a rip how Sam had survived his fall. She was more concerned with the timeline of the story.
Five years ago?
Zee had said he’d only been a rangeman for two. He’d said he’d started the work when his parents had died so he could support his sisters.
“What were you doing out in Black Valley?” Aster asked. She tried to keep her voice casual, despite the stirring in her gut.
He would have only been twelve or thirteen at the time. Had he been alone? Had his father been with him? What business did a gambleman have in the middle of the woods with his son?
But before he could answer, Sam Daniels himself broke through the meeting hall doors.
Aster knew it was him right away, even though they hadn’t yet been introduced. He walked with the confident step of one who wore authority comfortably. He was tall and dark-skinned, and unlike the other Scorpions, he wore fine clothes: a black waistcoat over a black shirt with a black gambleman’s hat on his head—the only burst of color was his red necktie. He had a nose that looked as if it had been broken more than once and a smile that was equally crooked. A gold-plated handgun hung at his hip. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but he had the eyes of someone three times his age.
Then he smiled at the sight of Zee, and became a boy again.
“Ripping hell, am I happy to see your ugly mug,” Sam said. Zee grinned back, and they pulled each other into a hug and clapped each other’s backs.
“It’s been too long, brother,” Zee replied.
“You must tell me everything,” Sam agreed. “But first, we eat. Come with me.” He turned and waved for them to follow.
The inside of the meeting hall was filled with long tables and young men hunched over plates of biscuits and beans. For a moment, Aster was gripped by the same heart-stopping panic that had seized her at the saloon in Scarcliff. Dry mouth and wet palms, a light head and a heavy stomach. She was outnumbered here, surrounded, exposed. But here, unlike in Scarcliff, she was able to reassure herself: these men were not brags or raveners or lawmen. They were allies. They had taken her in.
Aster collected herself as they made their way towards a serving table set up at the end of the room. Behind it stood a stocky, tight-jawed boy who looked like he might have been Sam’s brother. Sam’s hair was short, but this boy was bald as a doorknob, lamplight glinting off his smooth brown scalp. He was the first Scorpion Aster had seen who looked genuinely unhappy—angry, even. What’s his problem? she wondered. He scowled at the short line of people who waited for him to heap the food onto their plates.
And at the end of the line—
“Mal!” Clementine shrieked. She ran forward to embrace Mallow, who smiled tiredly and wrapped her arms around her. Mallow’s movements were stiff and pained, but otherwise she seemed to be doing far better. Tansy, too. Her eyes never left Mallow, as if to keep her from disappearing, and every few moments she broke into an unaccountable grin.
“Thank you for this,” Aster said to Sam, her chest loosening.
Sam shrugged. “The work is its own reward,” he said. “I’ve reserved a table for us, here. You and your friends help yourself to a plate and join me when you’re ready.”
Aster, Violet, and Zee joined the others in the line. Hunger clawed at Aster’s belly. She held her tin plate out to the unsmiling boy, who slopped a spoonful of beans onto it without a word. But his eyes lit up when he saw Zee.
“Good to see you again, Greene,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “We all figured you were dead.”
“Yeah, well, can’t get rid of me that easily,” Zee said, a hint of red in his cheeks. Aster supposed he wasn’t used to this much attention.
“What business brings you here?”
“Just helping these folks get to Northrock,” Zee answered, gesturing at the others. “Ladies, this is Sam’s brother, Elijah.”
“Eli,” the boy corrected. His face had set once again, but his voice was still gentle. “You all can call me Eli.”
The group took their seats with Sam, who was busy writing something in a journal. He closed it and spread his arms in welcome. He was missing the last two fingers on his left hand.
“Aren’t you fixing a plate?” Zee asked.
“I don’t believe in breakfast. A cold cup of water does me fine. Keeps my mind clear.”
“I forgot how fussy an eater you were.”
Sam let out a shocked laugh. “Insulting me under my own roof? You forget I know plenty of damning stories about you, too, Greene.”
Although Sam was clearly ribbing him, a flash of genuine fear crossed Zee’s face. Clementine raised an eyebrow, grinning. “What kind of stories?”
But Sam had already waved this off. He had an underlying restlessness to him, like a lizard skittering across hot sand. “So, brother, has the hunter truly become the prey? Tell me how you came to work for Arketta’s most wanted criminals in half a century.”
Zee, the hunter? Aster frowned.
Of what?
Zee didn’t answer, instead launching into the story of how he’d met them. Aster stayed quiet, letting the others do most of the talking. She struggled to contain the panic that had begun to eat away at her insides like a swarm of locusts. Focused on her breathing, which grew shallow and strained. Zee may have felt safe around all these young men, but that didn’t mean she did. Violet, too, remained completely silent, picking at her food. Her sullenness from last night had only deepened.
“Well, I’m glad you found time to visit us,” Sam said when they finally finished. “I only wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Ah, you know I would’ve stopped to say hello anyway,” Zee replied, seemingly more at ease now.
Aster opened her mouth to speak. She was hoping Sam would tell them his own story now. But then he stood, taking up his journal.
“There’s been a collapse in one of the southern tu
nnels that needs clearing out, so I’m afraid I have to leave you now. But I insist we celebrate tonight with a feast. I’ll have my brother break out the good liquor. Until then, rest up, wash up—treat this place as your home.”
He left them.
Clementine nudged Zee as soon as Sam was out of sight. “I don’t see what you were so nervous about. They clearly love you here.”
“Yeah, you never told us you had friends. I honestly thought we were your first,” Mallow snorted. But then she broke into a cough, and Tansy was quick to grab her hand.
“Easy, Mal. You need to get back to bed.”
“Only if you’re coming with me.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “Don’t get excited. They’re stacked bunks. But I’m going to head back to the house now, too, if you two want to follow me.”
Aster wasn’t surprised Violet wanted to hole up until supper, but in the end, everybody decided to go back except for Aster herself. She didn’t blame them—the dead only knew when they’d have a chance to rest like this again—but she also wasn’t quite ready to join them. Violet’s words by the waterfall echoed in her head. I’m not used to having all this time to think.
You had to keep running, that was the trick. If you stopped, your troubles would catch you.
Maybe she could take this time to count up their shine—she was itching to know how big the take from the bank had been. But some part of her didn’t want to risk the Scorpions finding out they had their shine on them. Sam seemed honest enough, but still, she didn’t know these people. Not really, not yet.
I’ll find someone around here who’ll tell me more about this place, Aster decided instead.
And if they could tell her more about Zee, too, so much the better.
As the rest of her group trickled out of the meeting hall, Aster’s gaze wandered over to Sam’s brother, Eli, who was busy clearing off the serving table now that breakfast was over. A grubby rag was slung over his thick shoulder, and he scrubbed at the scarred wood every time he found a spill. He hadn’t seemed like much of a talker when they were introduced, but who else would know more about the Scorpions than the captain’s brother?
The Good Luck Girls Page 19
