GHOSTS IN THE GLASS Read online

  “Thank you.” Leigh took the canteen. “Moad and Frell are not Dogton citizens, and they can go or stay as they please. They don’t need Niles’ permission. Besides, we have bigger problems than people leaving.”

  Vore smirked. “Havin’ more problems than we do Enforcers is one thing that ain’t changed much. What’s on the agenda for today, providin’ our benevolent friends in brown will let us go out and get it done?”

  “Help Frell with the filter. I think Hubert mentioned he remembers how to run it. It was one Neiro took from one of the Sulari manses just after he built Dogton. I’m going to tell Niles we need to start work on boiling water, too.” Leigh frowned. “We need to think of something to help Zres.”

  Garv grunted. “Zres needs someone to kick some sense into him. I’ll volunteer for the job.”

  “No. He needs something other than grief to occupy his mind, but it’s hard to find anything else in town right now. We’ll talk later.” Leigh handed the canteen back to the other woman. “I’m supposed to speak with Niles this morning about a bounty he wants put out.”

  “A bounty?” Vore asked, brows arched. “Now who? They already got one on Gairy. Poor Senqua, too. You don’t think—”

  “I’m not sure who he’s calling it on now, but with what happened to Anaz’dalo. . .” she trailed off. It felt as though the water had gotten stuck between her throat and belly, somehow.

  When I leave the barracks, I have to remember not to walk by the west gate. I don’t want to see the crows. They should have buried him. It wasn’t right to just throw his body out into the desert like that.

  Sympathy for a Shyiine was the last thing she ever expected to feel, but it lodged itself like a big rock in the middle of her chest. Leigh envied the old man for his bravado, for his raw, unblinking courage, suicidal or not.

  “Leigh?”

  “Sorry, Vore. I was thinking about the bounty. Maybe someone has struck a caravan up near Glasstown or down by Wrent. I suppose I should go find out. He doesn’t know how to use the VDA and send the file to Avaeliis.”

  Garv made a disgusted sound. “He’s an idiot. No wonder Glasstown’s such a shithole. If it wasn’t for the salt flats there, it’d be even worse than Wrent.”

  Leigh didn’t disagree, but she kept the opinion to herself. She pulled on her faded black fatigues and the worn Enforcer’s jacket, now devoid of its triangular badge. As she tied her boots, half-listening to Vore and Garv complain about the state of Dogton, she tried to forget her nightmare.

  Hoping the bright morning sun would dispel the last remnants of the bad dream, Leigh left the barracks, pausing only long enough to answer a Scrapper’s demands to know where she was going. Too preoccupied to pester much, he waved her away and watched a row of field workers meandering toward the irrigation. A few people ventured out of their homes to attempt a mimicry of normal life, but no one spoke or tipped a hat to her as they might have in happier days. Even if they had, Leigh would not have noticed the greeting; her thoughts swarmed, big and dark as flies, refusing to allow her any peace.

  I hid under Siat-rahl’s body when the Shyiine came. I heard people screaming for help, but I hid until they had gone, and it was quiet.

  “You were a girl then,” her doubt whispered, sounding so much like Kaitar Besh Leigh expected to see him appear right in front of her.

  I am not a girl now.

  “There’s no shame in being afraid. You’re grown, but the situation’s different, isn’t it?”

  No. It isn’t different.

  As the wind blew great puffs of red across her path, she heard a real voice, low and quiet. At first, Leigh thought it might be some of the caravaneers or field workers muttering their discontent behind the water shed, but the tones were too rough, the conversation too hurried.

  “I’m tellin’ you, I’m tired of this gig.”

  Another voice answered, lower than the first. “Tinn, shut up. We’re all tired of it, but if Karraetu hears, what do you think he’ll do?”

  Leigh slowed her step.

  “Karraetu better do something soon, that’s all I got to say. If that old Shyiine had something like that planned, what about the rest of these sneaky bastards?”

  “Shyiine are Enetic,” the other voice answered. “They’re all crazy. But shut up about it. We’re supposed to go make sure those idiots are digging the sand outa the irrigation ditches in the field. Let’s go and get it over with.”

  So, the Scrappers are starting to get restless. Anaz’dalo’s attack scared them. That can work in our favor, or against it.

  Leigh hurried past the water shed, head ducked low as she walked, trying not to draw attention to herself as she neared the two-story building. Another Scrapper, Markey, waited outside the office. He stepped aside, rifle in hand, and tapped a boot against the door.

  “The Sulari bitch is here, Boss Niles.”

  Leigh ignored the insult, waiting for the camera above the door to swivel in her direction. It did not move. After a moment of silence, the Scrapper shrugged and nudged the door open, motioning her inside.

  A high, static whine filled the office as the door closed behind her. The big chair behind the desk spun slowly, creaking. The sound was the same as the creaking of a low wagon’s axle. Panic roared in Leigh’s mind, red and huge.

  It’s him! He wasn’t just a nightmare! He’s not dead, and there will be roots coming from his eyes and his teeth will be ashes. . .

  Pain shot through her ribs, and her heart beat faster as she groped for the brass doorknob.

  The chair came to a stop. “You’re late.”

  There was no ash-filled grin, no Lein Strauss hulking behind the desk. Only Evrik Niles, looking annoyed, holding a shot glass in one hand. The static ebbed, then whined back louder than ever as he slid the empty glass onto the smudged acacia desk.

  Leigh exhaled; she’d been holding her breath without realizing it.

  “I’m tryin’ to call that bounty out, so sit down there and be quiet while I finish.” Niles rubbed his face, then turned to fiddle with the bulky Veraleid perched on the small cabinet.

  Leigh sank into a chair. Niles had shoved the mounted threk aside so the animal’s snout pushed against the far corner of the room. Dirty rags hung over the Worm Glass eyes, hiding them completely. A half-empty bottle of Synth cast a faint neon glow over the desk, where the VDA blinked with an incoming message. Leigh read the rectangular screen.

  Forty-two unread messages. He hasn’t been answering any contact with Avaeliis.

  “I, Evrik Niles, Governor of the Avaeliis provinces in the Shy’war-Anquai, head of the Avaeliis Coalition and mayor of Dogton, have an official announcement. As of this date, November the 27th, 1001 A.T., Enetic species are hereby no longer allowed free access to any Avaeliis-held water sources in the Shy’war-Anquai.”

  Leigh stared at him in disbelief, but he did not see her as he hunched over the Veraleid.

  “There are also four wanted Enetic persons traveling through the desert, location unknown. A Druen half-breed, name of Gairy Reidur, may be in the company of a Shyiine woman named Senqua. Wanted for treason, extortion, and taking up arms against Avaeliis citizens in the Shy’war-Anquai. May be traveling north. The two other bandits, by the name of Kaitar Besh and Meat—”

  “Mi’et.” Irritation pushed the words from her lips. “It is pronounced Mi’et.”

  Niles covered the transmitter. “Shut up.” His scowl twisted into a grin as he moved his hand once more. “Meat,” he said gleefully into the device, letting the word hang. “Recognizable by his Druen and Shyiine heritage, Meat has a skin affliction that leaves him piebald. He displays massive scarring along his right arm. Easy to identify due to his extreme ugliness. Kaitar Besh and Meat carry a bounty price of twenty clean barrels dead, fifteen alive.” Niles flicked the Veraleid off and smiled. “How’d ya like that?”

  “Why are you sending off a bounty on them? They’ve done nothing.”

  “Except,” the small voice whispere
d. “Kill your uncle. Kaitar did that, didn’t he? And left you in a Bloom. Deserted Dogton.”

  Somehow, it rang hollow. Leigh had hated Kaitar, and Mi’et’s presence always unnerved her. Now, with Evrik Niles and Karraetu sitting atop a ruin of a town heaped with the bodies of people she had known, that ire smoldered to an insignificant coal.

  Niles shrugged. “I don’t want any Enetics left in my desert. I want them all mounted up in the Dust Bin, right alongside those animal heads. I should have just shot Meat right here before he left town, except that’d seem a might unjust to the townies.” He kicked his boots up onto the desk and stretched, indolent as a cat. “I don’t think the Harpers will mind a water ban, though, and the Foundry can kiss my ass if they don’t like it. I ain’t touchin’ any of their Drahgur anyway; they can keep those, ‘cept Sokepta. He’s useful enough.”

  You’ve apparently forgotten about Sokepta taking shots at Scrappers during the fight.

  She did not remind him. “Niles—”

  “Boss Niles.”

  “Boss Niles, I understand you do not like Enetics, but you cannot put a water ban out, or call a bounty on innocent people. Gairy Reidur is one matter, he betrayed Nei—” Leigh bit her tongue. “Dogton. Avaeliis. But Kaitar Besh and Mi’et did nothing wrong. They are not bandits. We’ve gotten no reports of any banditry.”

  “They’re filthy Shyiine pieces of shit. How many times do I gotta spell that out for you?” Licking his lips as if to rid them of a bad taste, Niles peered at her. “I got the file on you, too. On everyone here. But you, of all the dipshits in this town, ought to be glad I’m cuttin’ water to those freaks. They burned your little shack, didn’t they? Nalvers?”

  “Nal’ves. The Shyiine from across the Belt burned it, yes. Not Kaitar Besh or Mi’et, nor any of the other Enetics that trade between the towns. Many of the caravaneers are half-breeds who have never done anything more suspicious than selling snake oil remedies. If they have no water rights, how can they manage making it between trading posts?”

  His grin faltered. “Estarians can do that job just as easy. Hell, I thought you’d appreciate me getting rid of Enetics. You’re Sulari, and your name’s all in the files—the real one, not the alias you signed the Enforcer contract with. Why, there are even rumors it was Kaitar Besh that done in your uncle.” Niles winked. “I could tell you things about most the people in this town that would make your head ring. But Besh and Meat? Them most of all.”

  “I am an Enforcer of Dogton, and Kaitar Besh and Mi’et are citizens of Dogton. More than that, they are also Enforcers, and my co-workers. Orin and Neiro were the ones who kept track of our records. If they did not see an issue with what was on their file, I do not either.”

  “Kaitar Besh and Meat are bandit outlaws and murderers, and they ain’t citizens of this town or any other town.” Niles snatched up the bottle of Synth and poured another shot. “With a price like that, won’t be long before someone hauls their carcasses back here. I’ll toss them on top of that old Shyiine and watch the crows come peck at their eyes.” When he drank, the Synth left a blue stain around his mouth. He swabbed it greedily with his tongue. “Like drinkin’ electricity. Old Neiro had style and taste, I give him that much. You get the fuck out of my office and get the filters working.”

  Leigh stood, chest tight with a rancor that could find no release. “We should boil water, too. I need barrels to do it.”

  Niles waved her away impatiently. “Go do it, then. If this town goes dry, won’t be my fault. I’m doin’ my part, listening to Nyia Precaius bitch and moan. That cunt has a stick shoved so far up her ass, she can’t even open her mouth without tastin’ wood. Fuck her. And you. . .get out.”

  Drown in it, Evrik Niles. You wanted this town, and now you have it. And it will bury you. I’ll open the door one day, and it won’t be Lein Strauss sitting here, or even Neiro—only you, dead, with a blue ring around your mouth.

  Leigh left him staring at the stuffed threk, as though the dead beast were watching him from behind the rag. For the first time in her life, she was glad such monsters existed in the world.

  Sisters

  Some shift in the rhythm of his breathing, of the change from night to dawn, wormed past the dreams, stinging deeply. The scattered fragments of memory—something about the day he’d bought Molly as a two-year-old filly—slid from his mind. The mule’s bray ebbed, then swelled. For a fleeting instant, the dream blurred back; little red Molly sniffing a halter for the first time, her ears flicking back. She whinnied again, this time with a sharp note of alarm.

  Kaitar opened his eyes and sat upright before sleep cleared from his thoughts. The world glowed pink and violet where the sky met the land, stars still dappling the pre-dawn curtain. He didn’t pause to admire the fleeting beauty.

  “Molly?”

  She snorted, hooves striking the earth with a one-two beat near an empty sleeping roll where Mi’et should have been, but was not.

  Where the fuck is he?

  Molly pranced closer, as she’d always done when fear clung close and made even her steady reliability uncertain. Unease bunched in Kaitar’s mind, knocking away the last bits of grogginess. He got to his feet, eyes adjusting as all the pre-dawn gray came into sudden, awful focus. Reaching to stroke and comfort the mule, he tried to detect what had frightened her.

  A hiss cut the morning gloom, and a shape appeared near the ring of dead coals that had been their campfire.

  Threk.

  A long plume of rattling feathers ran down the entire length of the threk’s back, emphasizing the rust-red scales. Her eyes blazed with a killing fury at the tall man standing in front of her.

  Kaitar’s mouth went dry. “Mi’et!”

  “Come,” the half-breed rasped, facing the huge predator. A bulky, black shape hung strapped to his left arm.

  He’s got a fucking miet! He thinks he’s going to fight it off. He wants to!

  “Mi’et, stop!”

  Paying no heed, Mi’et only bared his teeth at the predator. The threk crouched, snarling, her claws flexing—twenty curved hooks every bit as dangerous as the one Mi’et had wrapped to his thick arm. Then, a second threk materialized from the murky half-light, sliding from behind a fallen acacia where she’d been waiting to join her sister in the kill. She circled to flank her chosen prey.

  Mi’et raised the weapon he’d been named for. “Both of you then? Good.”

  Kaitar sprang for the duster lying at his feet, wrapped it around his arm, and bolted toward Mi’et. Just as the biggest threk leapt toward the half-breed, Kaitar lunged, shoved Mi’et with all his strength, and whirled to face the charging beast. She crashed into him, sending the world into a spin. The ground smashed against his temple, making his vision go muddy. Jaws locked on his forearm with such force he thought the bone would crack. He bit back a scream as pain raked along his side, the threk’s claws dragging across the bare flesh. Twisting, Kaitar tried to wrench free, but could not move beneath the beast’s weight.

  Stop!

  The threk stared down at him, heavy duster bunched around her long teeth. Kaitar gazed at her, unblinking.

  Let me go.

  The sudden release of pressure made his arm ache from wrist to shoulder. The threk pressed her snout against his cheek, bathing him in hot breath smelling of blood and poison. Wincing, Kaitar shoved her scaled muzzle away. She snorted once before lowering to the sand, bristling. She turned her yellow eyes toward Mi’et, who had regained his balance. The second threk trilled, uncertain.

  Kaitar gritted his teeth. “Don’t move!”

  Still breathing heavily, Mi’et froze. The black hook swayed, marking the seconds like a deadly pendulum.

  Kaitar waited for the punch of venom to hit his blood stream, paralyze the muscles, and spread through his body. It did not. His chest rose and fell as his heart counted off frantic beats— two, three, four. The duster slid from his arm and dropped to the ground in a heap.

  “Are you—” Mi’et began. The
first threk cut his words off with a hiss. Her sister lowered into a crouch, mouth lolling open, wet with venom

  “Keep quiet!” Kaitar’s hands shook as he cradled his bruised arm. The world wobbled in an unsteady waltz as he rose, took a step backward, and bumped against Mi’et. “They’ll go for you if you move again. Lower your eyes.”

  “Let me pull you away from them.”

  “Lower your fucking eyes! If they come at you again, I won’t be able to stop them both.”

  Mi’et grunted.

  “Good.” Kaitar took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You two, go on.”

  Near the fire, Molly snorted, ears flattened against her long head, eyes showing white along the edges. The mule’s powerful haunches tensed; if either threk turned in that direction, Kaitar knew she would bolt. They’d chase, pull her down under their snapping jaws, and—

  One threk raised a scaled head to regard the red mule, flicking its long tongue in interest.

  “Go on!”

  The beast’s head snapped back to face him, her trill sounding almost sheepish. Then, the threk sniffed the duster lying on the ground before nudging her sibling. Together, they moved, brushing against Kaitar’s leg, their scales rasping his fatigues. The bigger threk hissed at Mi’et, who tensed, his scarred right arm twitching in time with the beat of his pulse.

  “Keep your eyes lowered, or they’ll think you’re going to attack.” Kaitar nudged the bigger sister with a boot. “Go on. There’s antelope and sand hog out there. Get away from my mule. Get away from Mi’et. Both of you.”

  With a sudden look of bored disdain, the threk sniffed at Mi’et’s legs, turned, and followed the first to a tangle of scrub. Both animals paused in tandem, looking back with an expression that struck Kaitar as mournful—

  . . . wanted to eat him, I guess. . .

  —before slinking east. He watched their huge, graceful forms wind up a sandy ridge and vanish. Weakness buckled his knees and hot, painful bruises throbbed up and down his right arm. Gingerly, Kaitar touched his wrist, wondering if the threk had cracked the bone.