17

Day bled into night as we continued north along the coast. The purple glow of the Tesla dome’s grid pulsed weakly against the mottled atmosphere as we passed Pennsylvania city-state. Alone at the helm, I took in the charred craters on the ground that had once housed mining facilities and refineries before a battle between the Peaceful Union and Defiance turned them to rubble. I remembered running across the wasteland sands, desperate to stop the clockwork device that would spread the Trembling Sickness in a deadly vapor for thousands of miles. I had stopped the affliction, but not the explosion. It had cost me months of my life, and I’d lost Ashton for the first time to circumstance and threat of death…to my own anger and his desperate decisions.

Again, in the wastelands when I had tried to stop the Reaper invasion of the city-states, I had not been successful. The domes still fell. People died. Over and over, it seemed, I’d failed those who needed me. I lost more and more of myself. First against one man, Rothfair, and then the Order and Arecibo. Now, it seemed the entirety of Europe and the Coalition of Khent bore down, and I could do nothing but watch it happen. And to what end? My suffering had borne no fruit and now they call me the Dark Wrath…was there a reason for all of this? For my pain?

Shaking my head, I rubbed my palms against clenched eyes. Back then, I was just a girl. A lost debutante. A frightened fugitive. But now, I was more than that. Yet the hollow fear that carved me out and made each breath painful remained. How could I do this having failed so many times before? Remember, Charlie, what it felt like not to know doubt…

Ashton’s words to me, faith filled and full of his assurance that I was able and had always been.

“‘I will serve You. As my mother before me.’” The words fell from my lips as if spoken by another, but they were mine. They had been the cry of my heart as I fought for my life beneath Arecibo’s blade. They’d given me strength and purpose. I glanced at the blue tinge at my fingertips, the pad of my thumb finding the smooth glass of the mechanica. Maiden or monster. Which was I? Was one part of me still enough to save the other?

We traveled on, skirting the New-York dome with its dissipating energy flickering along the now badly broken grid. All along our route, the scars of the past years’ destruction passed beneath the vessel.

Ashton dove into Hunley’s notebook, charting our course from her scribbled notes, muttering to himself.

I took to one of the dining car’s overstuffed chairs. It faced the observation window, and I curled onto its soft center and tried to sleep.

Hours later, as the sun rose and crimson spires stabbed at the lightening skies from the rising sun, Ashton climbed out onto the roof of the air ship’s cabin to the coal chute to feed the dying steam engines powering the rotors.

His footsteps overhead pulled me to my feet. I took in a shivering breath, startled to see my exhale in a cold vapor. Worried, I flexed my fingers, testing for the tell-tale shocks of the mechanica that occurred when my body readied to fight. Weakness still weighed my muscles. Tremors slithered up my legs. No, I had not renewed or healed. Not since my encounter with the Trembler Knights.

A gust rattled loudly against the makeshift barrier I put over the broken window of the cabin. The sound of pebbles on glass seemed strange, and I walked over to inspect the noise. Pea-sized chunks of hail littered the counter and floor. Frost crept inward from the outside along the windows in the cabin’s door. An ice storm.

“You said this Hunley was under the sea?” I consulted the navigation panel on the helm. We were farther east than I’d realized. Near the coast, in fact. With the mists hovering all around us, I had not noticed. “Where are we going exactly?”

“New Maine,” Ashton said from the rear of the cabin. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I do not understand. I thought the Northern domes fell?” A root of panic drove up from the pit of my stomach. A misgiving that I knew I should heed. I trusted him too readily. Followed too willingly. And yet I did not have much of a choice. Not now, anyway. Not yet. “No more games, Ash.”

“We’re crossing over into northern territory near New Maine’s dome, but it is uninhabitable, unnamed.” Ashton said from the rear of the cabin. He stomped the sleet from his boots and shook the snow from his hair. Peeling off his long, thick coat, he peered at me through the fogged lenses of his goggles.

“We should go nowhere near a government area at all.” I shook my head. “We are both wanted, Ashton. We cannot go there.”

“We will be far from civilization, Charlie.” Ashton pulled at the finger of one glove with his teeth while shoving the other glove in his pocket. “Our destination is well outside the Peaceful Union’s reach.”

“What destination? As you just said, there is nothing out here but frozen, windswept cliffs. I doubt any vestige of the forest even exists anymore. Not after this eternal winter.” I tried to peer out of the windows but what I could make out through the increasingly thick frost was nothing but shifting white mist.

“There is something out there, I promise.” Ashton chuckled, rubbed his hands together and blew warm breath into his cupped palms. “Before the quakes of the Great Calamity, there was plenty out there. Iron-ore mines, a harbor with rigorous trade, forests for fur traders…”

“Yes, that was then.” A peculiar rumbling beneath us drew my attention. “Now…there is hail blowing in, Ash.” The counter beneath the broken window shone slick with ice. Frost flowers bloomed along the sill and in the crack of the doorway. I took in the purple at his lips and the shaking of his hands and worry spiked through. “You will freeze out here.”

“It is a different sort of weather, I will concede,” Ashton strode to the helm. “But we have been through many strange storms before. Remember the blood blizzards?” He cranked a brass wheel and the netting around the air ship’s balloon ballast creaked as he adjusted our height, skimming lower. “We will make it, I promise.”

The railcar shuddered, rocked in blasts of wind, sending my middle into a flop. “Have you been here before?” I asked, grabbing onto the back of a dining booth with both hands.

“As I said, I helped Professor Hunley to escape from Arecibo. Seems he took to ‘borrowing’ the scientific minds he needed without their consent.”

“A page from Ajala’s book,” I commented, remembering the Reaper Commander who led the invasion of the city domes. “And the All-Key, what became of that?”

Ashton cleared his throat, but did not answer. The All-Key, a weapon designed to infiltrate government security was what made the Reaper invasion possible. It was also the seed of his betrayal. His gaze met mine and a shadow passed behind his eyes. “We will touch down shortly,” he said instead. “See if you cannot locate some proper outer wear.”

“Ashton.” I took a step towards him. “How did you find me? When no one else could?”

“Do not fret, love. I will answer your questions, but not now.” The lightness to his voice sounded forced, belied by his death grip on the compass.

“I need to know,” I pushed. “When Riley and all of his men tried and failed. How did you do it?”

“Well, as a trained spy, I daresay my skill set was a bit more relevant.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Now is not the time, Charlotte.” He ground his jaw, his gaze forbidding.

But I would not let it be, aware that my tendency to trust him despite my trepidation had gotten me into trouble in the past. What he’d done for me. How he’d stayed was noble, heroic even. It did not, however, change the fact that I had often been unsure of his motivation and allegiance in the past. “Ash…” I tried again, but he put his hand up, stopping me.

“Please. I will answer your questions. Just let me get us out of this first.” The desperate plea on his face made me pause.

I nodded, backing away from him slowly. “I will have my answers.”

“You will.” Ashton said. “I will tell you everything. I promise.”

I turned, striding down the train car toward the rooms, my heart stuttering. What was it that was so horrible he could not tell me now? I shook my head, frustrated once more with his secrets.

The far room held all of the personal effects that had once belonged to Lizzie Frances. The original owner of the Stygian had used this ship to rescue me from the clutches of the Peaceful Union Soldiers once upon a time. I remembered shedding the pale silk and ribbons of my debutante life here and donning the garb that would later become the familiar dark cloak and skirts of the notorious Lady Blackburn, according to the news bulletins.

Lizzie’s room held a strange collection of outlander garb for traversing the wastelands, goggles and helmets, dresses and skirts. Walking along the wall, the material slid soft and smooth between my fingers. Small photographs and books cluttered the shelves and tables of the bedroom. All of it was dusty and untouched since their owner’s death at the hands of the Reaper Commander with whom she had conspired to overthrow the government.

For me, that battle was days ago, and yet as I waved my hand through a cobwebbed corner, I knew the years had indeed passed—even if I did not get to live them. Strange that Ashton kept this room. I wondered if he expected a need for it. My need for it. Again, I found myself merely guessing at his thoughts and feeling all the more estranged from him because of it.

The dark skirts, bodice, and blouse Mara had given me still looked decent. I opted to take only a heavy, hooded cloak and gloves. Both leather, they would stand well against the wind and I donned them, flexing my fingers in the creaking material. One of Lizzie’s daggers stuck out from the wood panel wall, and I grabbed it, found the sheath, and tied it to the strap around my waist. A pair of goggles with several articulated lenses and knobs caught my eye near the door, and I reached for them, pulling them from the hook in the wall and nearly going down as the entire train car jolted.

“Charlie, be careful,” Ashton called from the front.

“What is wrong?” I screamed, holding myself upright in the doorway of the room with white-knuckled dread. “Why are we crashing?”

“Our rudder is frozen. We are without steering.” The tension in Ashton’s voice set the hairs on my arms on end. “Hold on!”

I gritted my teeth and rode out the jarring blows as a terrible scraping echoed along the train car floor. The jagged ice ripped at the vessel, tearing along the keel as we skidded over the craggy ground. How much could this ship take without breaking apart at the seams?

Everything that was not nailed down rattled and toppled from its perch. Broken glass, dishes, equipment, and boots slid down the main walkway towards Ashton. I crawled through the debris. We dipped down again, bottoming out on a rise with a crash that sent the entire craft into a shudder. Ashton fought with the controls, ramming into the helm with every jolt. Beyond him, through the window, the white of the storm and vapors obliterated visibility.

I squinted. “Can you see anything?”

“Come here!” He turned, scooping me into his arms and wedging us into the corner between the helm and wall. His sword tumbled away, and I grasped for it, missing.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you steering?” I fought to reach the wheel, but he held me to his chest, his arms like metal bands.

“There is no steering, Charlie. The cold snapped the cables.” Tension lined his features, and he hugged me tight. “We are going down.”

I froze, the blood pumping in my ears too loud. A massive form emerged from the mists, its dark shape filling the window as we barreled towards it. I registered sharp angles and black rock. “We’re heading toward a—”

We slammed into the face of the cliff, the balloon ballast erupting with a resounding blast that tore through the cabin. The metal frame of the airship groaned, the beams giving way as the train car hit second with tremendous force. Ashton’s arm shield flared open as he raised his arm, covering our heads.

Fingers knotted in Ashton’s shirt, a ragged scream ripped from my throat as the blow threw us against the wall, and then all went black.