Page 8

“The god Unger created the giants to hold up the skies during creation to keep the clouds from crashing into his beloved seas, but the creatures have lost their purpose since then. Now the giants wander the wilderness wild and hungry.” – Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist

R uchel spluttered out a curse word.

“I must have misheard you,” I said, once my heart jolted back to life again. “You said ‘ my’ coven when clearly you must have meant ‘your’ coven.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Trouble.” His placid expression cracked ever so slightly, quirking the side of his mouth. “This is my coven too now. I joined yesterday with my blood. Didn’t you see me?”

Slack-jawed, Ruchel sputtered out another curse.

“You know damn well we couldn’t see you hiding in the shadows. You made sure of it.” I glowered at him, my neck and ears running hot. “You’re the reason the blood darkened and formed a crow. That wasn’t a blessing at all.”

His lips twitched. “I suppose that depends on your definition of blessing. I’d like to think of myself as a boon rather than a curse.”

“You’re worse than a curse,” I bit out. “You nearly succeeded in killing me yesterday.”

His pale brows furrowed, and his dark magic rippled and roiled like an agitated sea. “Killing you? I did no such thing.”

“You did,” I insisted, and Ruchel watched our exchange with interest, scooting to the edge of her chair. I had to be more careful with my words when I spoke about the god sigil he’d smothered. Ruchel wasn’t the only one who might be listening. “You took away my . . . means of protection.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Your death wasn’t what I was after. It’s your magic I was interested in. If I disarmed you, well, that wasn’t my intention. Clearly that wasn’t the only weapon in your arsenal.”

Hands in fists, heat warmed my chest, and my spirit stirred to life, readying itself. “You’re not in this coven. You didn’t speak the words, and you weren’t accepted.”

Adding his blood was all that mattered to seal the vow—the rest was ceremony—but I would cling to every technicality if it thwarted this Death spy.

“We can fix that right now.” Asher pushed back his midnight hood. He wore his silvery-white hair pulled half up into a knot. Casually, he scratched at his cheek, the hint of a smile growing in the corner of his mouth. “What was it you all said again . . . ? Oh, that’s right. ‘I vow by my blood and by my magic to serve the good of my coven, to stand in unity with my sisters until Death ferries me to the life after.’”

I snorted. “Fat lot of good that’ll do you—”

“We hear you, brother,” Ruchel said quietly.

My gaze snapped to hers. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

Ruchel sagged in her seat like her head was too heavy to keep upright. “We hear you, brother, and we hold you to your word.”

“Clearly, fever has made you delirious,” I protested.

Asher flashed a smile at me that was as bright as Berhta’s morning light. “Our high witch has spoken.”

“She’s not done speaking,” Ruchel let her head fall against the back of her chair, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “The giants are growing bold again.”

Crouching down, Asher peered out the window behind me. “They do that every so often when they tire of the desert. We’ll herd them home again.”

Ruchel squeezed the bridge of her nose, brow furrowed. Her ochre eyes opened, red-rimmed. “When they leave the desert, the death toll in Wulfram doubles. But now that you’re one of us, you’ll see to it that no giant threatens the safety of your coven.”

Asher bowed his head in overly polite deference—a deference I wasn’t buying for one minute. “Of course I will.”

Then Ruchel’s breathing slowed like she’d fallen asleep right there in her chair.

I rose to my feet to face my foe head-on, pleased when my knees didn’t buckle. I kept my footing even when his formidable magic billowed around me so close its cool energy brushed over the skin of my arms and neck and cheek. A shiver touched my spine, and it was . . . not entirely unpleasant. “You’re a fool if you think I’ll fall prey to whatever trick this is, god spy.”

He dropped his chin to meet me eye-to-eye, bringing his nose inches from my own. “I’m no one’s spy, Troublemaker. God or otherwise.”

“Don’t toy with me. Just tell me what you want.” I lowered my voice in case he wasn’t the only spy around. “We’re both too old to tolerate the silly political games the gods love to play.”

“No games. I need to learn your ways. It’s as simple as that.” The corners of his dark eyes crinkled, another fine crack in an otherwise stoic countenance.

“Then may the Crone always send me enemies as foolish as you,” I ground out.

“See you again soon, Trouble. For now, I’ve giants to chase off.” His cloak billowed up around him until he was one with the shade. Wraith-like, he melted into the shadows and was gone.

I sat in my chair so hard the legs scraped the bone floors.

“Does he know what you are?” Ruchel rasped. I’d thought she was asleep, but she peeked out at me through the slit of one eye.

“He does,” I whispered.

“That’s a complication, then.”

“We need to get rid of Asher, not encourage him,” I huffed. “It’s not clear what he wants, but when he gets it, he’ll do away with us. Or his god certainly will when he forces us to go to battle for him. What use are mortals to the Old One except as fodder for a war machine?”

“Then you’d better not let him get whatever it is he wants.” Smacking her lips together, she gestured weakly at the pitcher of water between us.

I poured her a glass and pushed it into her reaching fingers. “What does Asher gain from joining our coven? He can’t be telling the truth about wanting to learn our ways.”

“I can’t read him.” The glass shook as she lifted it toward her lips. She sipped at the water. Then she set it down hard as though it were too heavy, and I wished I hadn’t filled it so full.

“You don’t need mind magic to see he’s just using us for whatever—”

“Of course he is. I’m not telling you you’re wrong, Maven.” She waved my words away, then let her arms fall at her sides, tuckered out by the gesture. “I’m telling you to use him back.”

“And if I can’t?”

She pointed at my satchel and the curved blade poking out the lip of it, the handle of my revolver right beside it. “Do you know how to kill a crow?”

“No. I’m not even sure if that’s possible.” They weren’t divine, but they weren’t mortal either.

“Then we’d better find out, hadn’t we? Just in case.”

Our coven mates returned shortly thereafter to tend to our high witch. Liesel kept her distance across the cabin, but I took it as a good sign that at least she was willing to be in the same place as me. Nola claimed the chair beside me, her solid presence an instant reassurance.

“Good news,” Blue said flatly. “You get to live another day.”

Emma held the glass of urine out in her hands, her tall green hat tucked under her arm. Small, brown, trimmed roots floated inside the concoction. The scent of ammonia stung my nostrils.

“We mixed a detoxing potion, combining Blue’s water spell—made from your water—and my earth magic to ensure you’re cleansed as quickly as possible. But . . .” Emma bit her lip.

“But you have to drink it,” Blue said bluntly, “and then your insides will feel like they’re trying to become your outsides. It will only get worse from there before you have any relief at all.”

Ruchel took the glass between her trembling fingers. She sniffed at it, and her nose wrinkled. “I think I’d rather die.”

“Oh, come off it,” Nola said, chuckling. “I’ve drunk beer that smelled worse than that swill. It probably tasted worse too. Chin up. Then when you’re done, we can talk strategy for the next trial. The train will stop soon.”

“Pinch your nose when you do it,” Liesel chimed in. I glanced at her, and her cheeks went pink. “It helps me when I have to swallow my medicine.”

Ruchel choked the concoction down, her lips blanching. She slammed the glass onto the table when she finished. Her chest heaved. “Ack. I was right. I’d rather be dead.”

* * *

The fourth trial had yet to start. Prisoners gathered on the platform outside Wulfram’s cast iron gates. The clock tower remained the same, but this part of the city of retribution contained larger buildings of dark brick spaced well apart. Tall sandstone walls turned the city into a great maze.

Ruchel and I warned the others about Asher’s sudden appearance and claim to our coven. The green sisters were relieved at the idea of a powerful crow ally. Nola took the news in stride.

Blue was as suspicious as I was. She voiced her skepticism boisterously, and I’d never liked her more.

Ruchel wobbled on her feet, too weak to carry her pack. All she had on her was a dagger and a water sack, and that seemed too much for her.

“I could carry those,” I offered.

She shook her head at me, her hand pressed to her belly. Then she vomited onto the platform. Bile and urine splattered my boots and the ebonized wood beneath my feet. A circle of space formed around our coven, separating us from the anxious mass of bodies pressing at Wulfram’s gates.

“Good. The detoxing potion is working,” Blue said. “You can pay me for it later.”

Ruchel wiped her mouth with her shirtsleeve, her glassy ochre eyes narrowed to angry slits. The clock struck the first hour, and the gates parted with a screech of metal. We moved slowly for Ruchel’s sake. She vomited again, which thankfully discouraged other prisoners from crowding us.

The sandstone walls stood tall and smooth. Unclimbable. Narrow passages and dead ends created dangerous battlegrounds for covens harboring grudges against other groups from trials past. Ruchel guided us away from the bloodiest of conflicts with her sharp instincts, but by the time the clock reached the third hour, her pace had slowed to a dangerous degree.

“At this lousy speed, we’ll never make the tower before the train leaves us,” Blue grumbled, not for the first time.

Nola turned on the stubborn witch, hands in fists and nostrils flaring. “I’ve had about enough of you!”

I stepped between them, arms spread. Liesel gasped and hid behind her sister.

Ruchel collapsed in the sandy soil, and the fight ended as quickly as it had begun. Liesel dropped down beside her, making a pillow for Ruchel’s head with her lap. Emma fanned her face, trying to cool her. Nola wet a red scarf from her pack and used it to dampen Ruchel’s lips and neck.

Her ochre eyes fluttered back open.

“There you are,” I said to her softly. “You scared us.”

“Leave me,” Ruchel rasped, and my heart sank into my boots.

“Stop talking nonsense and get back on your feet, you bricky bitch,” Nola barked.

Ruchel shook her head sluggishly. The swelling on her cheek was down, but she looked even worse than before. Her skin had gone waxy. “Leave me. I’ll catch up with you after the toxin passes.”

“We’re not leaving you for a passing warlock to find,” Nola said.

“Cover me with something and go,” Ruchel whispered, arms and legs sprawled out in the dirt like a starfish. She closed her eyes. “Your high witch commands it.”

Heavy silence fell. Emma and Liesel climbed slowly to their feet.

“Get. Up. Ruchel,” Nola said through gritted teeth. Her lip trembled.

Ruchel didn’t move. I lowered myself down beside her, using my body to shade her face.

Blue and the sisters shuffled away.

“We’re not leaving her!” Nola charged after them, stomping across gravel, kicking up sand.

“Our high witch has spoken,” Emma said gently, eyes on the ground.

Blue hesitated then, full lips pursed. She fished her wand out of her satchel and used the forked end to dig in the loose dirt, drawing a rough map. “Up ahead, there are two options, here and here. Both wells are good for refilling a canteen. Our high witch is going to need all the liquids she can get to clear her body of toxins, but be careful of the garm water devils.”

“Help us,” Nola begged.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Blue snapped. She drew more paths. Mimicking the maze ahead, then a broad square. “Here, there’s a statue of the warrior goddess Irmina in a courtyard. You’ve seen it before, I’m sure. Covens like to barter there for things they need, trade spells and supplies. It’s a safe space. The green witch Talia runs it like a market. We’ll wait for you for one hour when we reach it. Just one hour while we rest our legs. Get her there or we go on without you.”

Blue pulled the strap of her bag up higher on her slender shoulder and marched on, never looking back, Liesel not far behind. Emma sent us an apologetic smile before she too departed.

We let Ruchel rest for a time, her head in Nola’s lap. I wet her lips with a damp cloth and made her sip water. She drank, half-conscious.

“We have to go,” Nola said, scrambling to her feet.

I followed her gaze behind us. “Warlocks,” I gasped.

A coven of four drew near, taking the collapsed mind witch in with hungry eyes.

“Fucking vultures.” Nola dropped her pack and pulled Ruchel upright. She dragged her weight across her broad shoulders and hoisted her into the air. Nola wore her draped along her neck like a yoke for an ox, holding her thigh with one hand, the other grasping her arms at the wrists to keep her in place.

I slung Nola’s knapsack onto my back and followed. We hurried around the bend, slipping between two brick buildings to lose our tail, but the sandy soil was soft. Footprints gave our direction away.

The warlocks kept their distance but wouldn’t leave our trail, never too far behind us. I roused Ruchel with a gentle tap on her uninjured cheek when we needed to know which path through the maze was best. We were moving so slowly we didn’t run into anyone else. Other prisoners had wisely kept up the pace and were much farther ahead.

During their pursuit, the warlocks hid their faces with red hoods, the kind executioners wore during a beheading.

“They’re a part of a large coven,” Nola huffed. “Their high warlock is a nasty beast-born who makes all his loyalists wear hoods like that. They only recruit warlocks and beast-born. He calls himself Master.”

“ Master ?” I said sourly, hating the taste of the offending name on my tongue. “Well, that’s all I need to know about him.”

“He’s a mean bastard. He took over the second trial long before I arrived here, and he still holds it, last we were there. Blue has had the most run-ins with his lot. I keep hoping someone will hurry up and put a knife in his back, but he lives on. I’d rather face devils and garm over vermin like him.”

“I could put a bullet in one of them right now,” I offered, as the warlocks edged nearer. “That’ll send the right message.”

“I like the way you think, duck, but save your bullets. We might need them,” Nola said breathlessly, her steps growing heavier.

I was puffing just with the extra pack on my back. Our pace dragged, and the warlocks grew more daring, pulling within a yard of us. We took refuge in a building that looked war-torn. The windows were blown out, the steps littered with broken glass. Scorch marks darkened the archway, and the door had been knocked down. We had to step over it to enter.

The building was just a shell, nothing inside but bare floors. Nola laid Ruchel down cautiously on the checkered tile, and she stole a drink from the water sack she kept at her belt. I dropped our bags at my feet and drank my fill.

We made Ruchel hydrate too quickly, and she heaved her stomach’s contents onto the floor.

I helped move her away from the mess, her skin clammy and too hot to the touch. She lay curled on her side, clutching her belly, her lavender scarf slipping off her forehead. I fixed it for her. Eyes squeezed shut, she was breathing shallowly, half-conscious moments later.

I readied my revolver, wishing my spirit didn’t feel like lead in my belly. The heat drained me of energy like sand through a sieve. I was in no condition to battle anyone, let alone warlocks, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying my damnedest.

“With a short barrel like that,” Nola said, jutting her chin at my weapon, “you’ll want to aim for the widest part of their chest. If you miss a little, you’ll still hit something important. Let them get good and close and make it count. I’ll be right behind you.”

She rubbed her hands together and blew into her palms, growing a crimson cloud between her fingers. We waited in silence, nothing but the gentle crackle of her building storm and the blood rushing in my ears for company. I didn’t move an inch. A bead of sweat made a slow trail down my neck, and I didn’t even flinch to wipe it.

The drag of a footstep in sandy soil neared, a boot landing cautiously in the dirt just outside.

I slid out the archway, ducked low, and aimed squarely for the warlock’s chest. The hooded men called a warning out to one another. I adjusted for the sight and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the revolver left my ears ringing. My shot struck the warlock’s shoulder and down he went.

Two bullets left.

Nola charged out from behind me and flung the growing storm. It landed with a powerful burst of red mist and a boom of thunder that shook the earth and sent the vultures running for cover. Bursts of lightning shot from the cloud, scorching the sand and striking against the walls of the maze.

“That’ll make them think twice,” Nola said, winded.

“You’re too spent,” I said. “I’ll get Ruchel.”

She didn’t have the breath to argue with me. Nola struggled with our bags, chest heaving, and I fumbled Ruchel up to her feet as best I could. I pulled her up onto my back, using her arms like straps. The rush of my racing heart helped, the panic fueling me and making me stronger. I wore her like a knapsack and carried her out of the building.

“You idiots should just leave me,” she groaned into my neck.

“If a giant shows up,” Nola said, jogging up beside me, “we’ll leave you in the street as bait while we make our escape.”

“Do you mean it?” Ruchel asked hopefully.

Nola snorted.

“Go back to sleep,” I told her. “You’re stuck with us.”

She mumbled something incoherent and was snoring against my neck moments later.

I was not as muscled as Nola. When I tired, we found another building, not far from the eastern well Blue had directed us to. Both Ruchel and Nola needed a rest. Nola ate the food from her knapsack. I gave her mine as well, fueling her back up as best we could.

I emptied my satchel of everything but water containers and went after the nearest well, revolver at hand in case I ran into trouble along the way. I was foiled by a dead end in the maze and had to backtrack, cutting through a building that looked like it had survived a terrible storm, windows gone, shattered glass everywhere. I climbed dilapidated stairs to the second story and spotted the well in the distance through a gaping hole where the brick had caved in.

The well was busy. A coven dressed in matching black uniforms I hadn’t seen on the train before took turns drawing out a bucket and rehydrating. The group was made of a strange pairing of magical beings. Witches with their scarves and amulets worked alongside warlocks wearing bone relics pinned to their collars.

A water devil sprang from the depths of the well. I saw a flash of blue scales, webbed claws, and flailing finned feet. The creature bit the face off the nearest warlock. A spray of blood wet the sand. The warlock fell dead. Gunshots rang out, and a burst of flame brought the devil down.

The coven cleared the pockets of the fallen and marched off, taking his firearm and leaving his body behind.

If there was another devil in that well, I didn’t stand a chance. Not weakened and alone. But then I recalled the way Nola always aimed her energy into her hands with her breath to make it more malleable. I opened the cylinder on the revolver. With the little magic I had left, I blew it onto the bullets, coating them in gray. Perhaps this way I could aid the bullet into causing some proper harm even against garm while still concealing my abilities.

I raced to the well. A close-up of the dead man turned my stomach. I had to roll him onto his side so I couldn’t see the damage done by devil teeth.

I drew out the bucket in an anxious frenzy. Shooting glances over my shoulder, I refilled our water supplies. I wet my face and neck to cool myself and double-checked that there was nothing useful in the pockets of the dead warlock. All I found was lint. I took his boots and stockings for trade, the discomfort I felt over raiding the dead already lessening in my heart. I ran back inside the building for cover, grateful no garm presented themselves.

I couldn’t leave Nola and Ruchel for long. There was no way we would make Blue’s timeline at the market, but the train was still well within our reach. We had water now. We could survive this. Things were looking up. I slowed inside the building, lulled into an easier pace by the cooler air in the shade.

And then I smelled him: leather, cedar oil, and magic.

The god spy was watching me again.

I aimed my revolver at the shadows where they grew darkest and fired a gray bullet at the crow.