“Mars is going to pay him, right?” Because that’s what we do. We pay them off. All of us. Rangers are duty-bound to check our loads for contraband and our permits for errors, but a bag of coin and it’s like we were never there. It’s how rig drivers survive up here. How we carve out a life in the unforgiving wilderness.
“Just having a little fun first, looks like,” Kyn says. “I like this gun. What’s it loaded with?”
“Buckshot.”
“Large game then?” He moves the gun left and right, scanning the tree line.
“It’s not for hunting. Not buck anyway.”
“You’re small, quiet. Winter favors you. You could be an excellent hunter if you wanted.”
“I prefer fishing,” I say. “And if Winter favors me it’s because I don’t order her around.”
“But you could,” Kyn says. “You’re Kerce and that means you could.”
I ignore him, my eyes on Mars. His lips are moving now, saying things we can’t hear, things most people could never understand. Words that have Winter angry and blowing hard.
A gust of wind strikes Jymy in the chest and his boots slide backward on the ice. His arms flail and he cries out, but it’s his wolf that goes ballistic. Snarling and snapping, his mouth frothing.
Mars speaks a final word and Jymy’s lifted off his feet and thrown into the side of his own truck. Ice and snow rain down on him as he crumbles to the ground. The metal sign on the refueling station swings wildly.
“Fluxing smuggler,” I say, pulling on my gloves and kicking the driver’s door open.
“Sylvi—” Kyn’s fingers snag my stocking cap, but I’m gone. I’m not going to let this go to hell. Not when I have more than enough coin to pay for safe passage.
“Back inside, Miss Quine,” Mars says, heading toward me.
“Just pay the man so he doesn’t chase us down with that harpoon gun and drag away your precious haul.”
And then Jymy’s on his feet again. He pulls a knife from his boot and flings it at Mars’s back.
“Watch out!” I cry.
And though I thought Hyla was fast, it’s nothing to Winter’s magic working through Mars. Kerce words spill from his lips and his body spins out of the way. At his command, Winter catches the blade and flips it.
Jymy’s knife hovers in the air for a moment. Then, with another twitch of the smuggler’s lips, it shoots like an arrow back toward the Ranger and sinks into his chest with a wet thud, the force throwing him into a tower of snow tires. The tires scatter and Jymy falls, grasping at the hilt, trying to pull it free.
My knees buckle, but Hyla is there to hold me upright.
“He just . . . you just . . .” I can hear Jymy gasping from here, pulling at the knife, his chest gurgling.
Mars stares at him for a long second before making his way back to the Ranger. But instead of kneeling to help, he turns his attention to the wolf in the bed of the pickup. The beast snaps and snarls, yellow eyes flashing, heat rising off his coat.
Mars is facing away from us, so we can’t hear, we can’t see. But, after a moment, the wolf’s yapping falls away. The air rings with silence as the animal settles back onto his haunches and allows Mars to scratch his head.
“I’ll be damned,” Kyn says, his arm brushing mine.
I shake my head, slow, confused, my eyes moving from the Ranger to his wolf and back again. I’ve heard stories about Winter’s wolves, heard tales of her speaking to them, teaching them her language. I didn’t realize that made the animals subject to Kerce magic. Would never have thought—
“My apologies for the delay, Miss Quine,” Mars says, suddenly there, pulling the square of cloth from his pocket, and dabbing at the new sores on his lips. “Business to attend. Terms to negotiate.”
“You don’t negotiate with the Rangers,” I say, my voice shaking. “You give them a bag of coin and they wave you on your way.”
“I’m afraid Leff wanted more than that this time.”
“If the load is important enough to risk losing it to the Flux, surely you’ll pay whatever Jymy’s asking.”
Mars tucks the cloth away and chuckles, a low, quiet sound. “I’m done here. We can go.”
He leaves me there staring at the Ranger’s body, whose blood is spreading like oil, melting the snow. Rig drivers watch from their open windows, their mouths gaping, their eyes popping.
Kyn tugs the sleeve of my coat. “Let’s go, snowflake. Please.”
“All he had to do was give Jymy some coin,” I say. “All he had to do . . .”
It’s not that I liked Jymy. It’s just, I knew him. He was a greedy, self-serving lawman who cared little about the law. But he was a survivor. Like the rest of us. There was no reason to take that from him.
“I would have paid. For Lenore, I would have paid anything. We didn’t—He didn’t have to kill—”
And then Mars is there again, in front of me. Black eyes and blistered lips, and something like pity on his pale face.
I spit at him, watch it freeze on his cheek. “I would have paid.”
“He didn’t want coin.”
“That’s all Jymy’s ever wanted.”
Mars pulls the cloth from his pocket again, wipes the spit from his face.
“His brother is indentured,” I say. “Working in the Stack. The money Jymy stole went to pay off his debt.”
“Feel sorry for the brother if you must. But do not spare a tear for Jymy Leff.”
“Who are you to decide—” The air freezes in my lungs. I can’t breathe. I can’t talk. And for the briefest moment I can’t decide if Winter’s turned on me or if it’s the shock of what’s happened. And then I realize, it’s neither.
It’s Mars.
I’M SORRY, Winter tells me. SO SORRY. She’s obeying the smuggler. I taste his breath mingled with the magic sitting on my tongue, keeping me silent.
“That’s enough, Mars,” Kyn says.
“Hear me, Miss Quine. If our passage across the Shiv Road could have been secured with any number of coins, I would have paid.”
Air leaks into my lungs and I find strength enough to swing my fist at his face. Mars catches my wrist easily.
“Choose your foes with care,” he says, his voice dangerous. “Jymy Leff wanted you.”
His hold on my lungs is gone now, but he’s left some of his magic behind. It rattles in my chest and I have to hack and spit to rid myself of it.
“Imagine my surprise when he told me all he required as payment was that I turn you over to him.” He leans close, flecks of kol shimmering between his teeth. “He told me what happened at High Pass. I don’t know him all that well, so you’ll have to tell me—was he prone to exaggeration or did you stop a rig from plowing over a girl?”
He’s talking about Jymy in the past tense. Because Jymy Leff is dead. Because just moments ago he killed a lawman who wanted to trade safe passage for me.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would Jymy Leff want me?”
“You said it yourself. Coin is all he’s ever wanted.”
“Spit it out, Mars,” Kyn says. “What do the Rangers want with Sylvi?”