“And I’m someone you trust?”
His voice is so close and quiet and deep. I drop my hands andtilt my head back to meet his eyes. They’re sparking, bright and hopeful, and his mouth is serious for once—no smile in it.
“I don’t know,” I tell him because there’s no sense in lying about it and I’m a terrible liar anyway. “But you’re close enough. And you owe me.”
He pulls back a little, frowning, running his hand over the stubble that covers his scalp like he always does when he’s thinking. His hand drifts to his vest, and he taps at the place where he pocketed the crystal and the telegram, as if checking they’re still there.
“Fine,” he says after a beat. “I’m in. But I’m going to need something in return.”
Fire sears up my spine, and I slam my shoulder into his chest, sending him stumbling back a step. “You’re going tobargain? When Halle and Kelda’slivesare on the line?”
Orion rubs the pain from his sternum and has the decency to look a little abashed. “The world doesn’t work in equal numbers—you know that. Youtaughtme that. And the Skywayman has his own goals to hit, goals that your skills could be helpful with.”
I glare at him, seething. “Fine. You help me get my sisters back, and I’ll owe you a favor. A big one. No strings or restrictions attached. Now let’s get off this train before it gets any farther out of town.”
Orion grins at me as he bends down and yanks the warden’s belt and holster off the body and scoops the gold-plated gun off the floor. “Can’t we just use that unique talent of yours and have you”—Orion wiggles his fingers in the air—“poofus off?”
“Poofus off?”
He shrugs. “I mean, sure, it’s not the official term…”
“I could leave bypoof-ing, as you put it, but I couldn’t take you with me.” I pull out Wrath, its edge glinting in the weak light. “This knife, for example, is very simple to put back together on the other side of a phase. You, on the other hand…” I tap the flat of the blade against his broad chest. “Do you really trust me to know where all your bits and pieces go? And not get them mixed up with mine?”
He winces. “Good point. Nothing wrong with a nice, safe door, right? Let’s try one of those. Lucky for you, I’m a master planner. Follow me.”
Buckling on the warden’s holster, he walks back down the car and throws open the door, and I trail right on his heels, out onto the clattering platform. It doesn’t even occur to me what we’re about to walk in on until Orion freezes two steps inside the next car. The car that’s a literal bloodbath of warden bodies, crumpled into heaps of muscle and broken bone, reeking of burning hair and charred skin. I don’t have to see his expression; the shock and tension in his neck and the lines of his back are clear enough. And I can see how the skin along his knuckles pales as he tightens his hands into fists.
I feel something twist in my chest. Something like hurt or regret. I’ve never had anyone from Val’s life see—reallysee—what it is the Butcher can do. The amount of destruction I can and have wreaked dozens and dozens of times. Not even Dani. Her whole job was just booking the contracts and making sure people paid up. She didn’t even know my real name or the secret behind what I can do for the first year we worked together; I was always the Butcher first and Valene second to her, and even then she never came with me on a job.
This is Orion, though. He was my best friend even before I discovered I was a saint. He was the first person I trusted with my secret, the only one who knew for years. He held Kelda as a baby, taught Halle how to read, and couldn’t look me in the eye for a week after kissing me on the cheek once when we were eleven years old. He was the first one to visit us after Mama got taken by the chapel. And now he’s radiating horror and disappointment…
I swallow hard, stick my chin in the air, and step past him, daring him to make a big deal.
I don’t regret what I did. What I do. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.
“Shit, Val,” he says quietly. “You’ve really gotten good at this, huh?”
“We need to go,” I say, brushing that whole comment aside because I don’t have time for his morality crisis right now. “Do you go about all your jobs with this complete lack of urgency?”
I expect him to spar back at me with some kind of quick retort, but he doesn’t. He’s completely, oddly silent as we make our way through that car and the next, all the way out onto the steps at the very back. All around us, the Copper Plains whiz past, painted soft silver under the midnight sky. Right below our feet, energy crackles blue-white as the lightningrail barrels down the track.
Orion unholsters the pulse pistol, points it in the air, and fires. Once, twice, then a long moment, and then once more. He spins the gun back into its holster and glances at me. “Should only take a minute.”
He cranes his neck, staring back the way we came, and for a moment, I’m not sure what he’s looking for. But then a silhouette appears on the horizon, coming up on us fast. Orion leans outover the railing, waving at the mystery person as they come more clearly into view.
It’s a rider in a dark, broad-brimmed hat, astride one of the automaton mounts I see sometimes in Covenant. Except this one is nothing like those slow, rusty constructs. Its body is sleek and polished, ropes of metal twisted smoothly together and forged into an elegant, four-legged shape, and its naphtha heart blazes bright blue as it skims over the ground, sparks flying from its hooves. An equally polished mount is just behind it, being led by the rider on board.
They draw even with the back of the car, and I can finally make out the face under the shadow of that hat. Deep-brown skin and long-lashed eyes, just like Orion’s, but older by a few years and a full mouth set and serious in a way that Orion’s almost never is.
Atlas Booker. Orion’s older brother. I haven’t seen him in an even longer time than Orion, not since he was ordained in the chapel. What in every version of hell is apreacherdoing rolling up to a prison train break?
“I didn’t think we were taking on stragglers,” he hollers over the noise of the wind and the lightningrail. He takes me in with one quick, searching glance. “Valene Bruinn. It’s been a little bit. You didn’t get yourself arrested, too, did you?”
I grimace. “Not exactly.”
“It’s a wild story, Atty. I’ll tell you the whole thing on the way back.” Orion turns to me and nudges me with an elbow. “I’ll go first. You come right after.”
I don’t even have time to object before he leaps off the steps, latching onto the mount’s reins and swinging a leg over its backin one smooth, graceful movement. Then he waves at me to jump on as well. I scowl at him, eyeing the mount warily. I’ve never been on one before, never even had any interest, and this seems like an awful time to start.
