Marcus lunged at Winter before she could make another attempt at picking up the sword. The next thing she knew, her back was slamming against the railing. She gasped in a desperate attempt to reclaim the air that escaped her lungs.
“You never learn, do you?” Marcus released his grip on her shoulders and straightened up, looming over her. “I’m starting to think I can’t let you live.”
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” Winter wheezed. She grabbed the railing to steady herself but didn’t attempt to stand yet. “Why’d you come back here? Why take the boat back up the river?”
“I think that’s obvious.”
“Phoebe would know.”
“I don’t give a damn.” Marcus stepped away from Winter to pick up the sword. He was trembling, too.
“You’re risking your life every second you’re out here,” Winter told him.
“So are you.” Marcus said. “I think you understand the idea of putting your life on the line for the right thing. Even if you’re going about it the wrong way.”
The taste of copper filled Winter’s mouth. She spat out blood. “Don’t give me that.”
“Give you what?”
“The ‘we’re not so different’ speech.”
“I wasn’t. You may have ambition, but you’re naïve and foolish.” Marcus raised the sword.
Winter pushed herself off the ground and dove left. She awkwardly rolled across the deck and staggered to her feet. She stumbled into the cabin. The blade sliced through the air behind her.
Sure enough, bottle after bottle of dark liquid sat lined up on the center table, ready to be dumped. Winter grabbed one and turned around. Marcus came stumbling in, and she swung the bottle and struck the side of his head.
He stumbled into the nearest counter. A surprising amount of blood streamed down the side of his face. He swung the sword again. Another miss. The weapon slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground.
Instead of grabbing it again, Marcus lunged at Winter. In her attempt to dodge, she slammed into the table. Bottles tipped over and hit the floor, rolling in every direction. Waves rocked the boat. Two of the bottles rolled out the door and onto the deck.
Marcus collapsed to the floor. Winter looked down and met his gaze. The exhaustion in his eyes made her think he wasn’t going to get back up.
She wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the laughter that escaped her, or the fact that he joined in.
“I win,” Winter told him. She knocked the last few standing bottles onto the floor and watched another roll out onto the deck. One passed between the bars of the railing, and a distance splash followed. “Hell, maybe I’ll throw this all in the river. No one in Devil’s Pass is going to drink it.”
“Please do,” Marcus said. He turned his head and chuckled as another bottle rolled off the deck.
Winter froze. “What?”
“Devil’s Pass isn’t the only city on this river.” Marcus let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and the worst cough Winter had ever heard. Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth. “Hell, we trade with some of the communities south of the pass. And they all take water from the river farther down.”
Winter darted forward to grab two bottles within reach before they could roll out the door. With her foot, she tried to stop a third from escaping, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Oh, God.
Winter tried to think. “They’re in the bottles—”
“You really think they won’t break?” Marcus laughed again. “That glass won’t last long banging against rocks.”
“Why are you laughing! You haven’t won!” Winter couldn’t keep her hold on the bottles. They slipped from her hands. One survived the fall, the other shattered. Dark liquid sprayed the floor and her boots. “You’re minutes from death and Devil’s Pass is safe.”
“Sure,” Marcus gasped. “But that look on your face? The horror? The realization that you did all of this and still failed to save everyone you could? If you’d just let me do my work, Devil’s Pass would be purged. Within a few years, it would be a better place for everyone.”
Winter opened her mouth, then closed it. No point arguing with a dead man. She limped out onto the deck and grabbed the railing.
The water below was turbulent, and the bottles were long gone, probably already leaking poison. How long until it reached the first cities? How long until people started getting sick from something they had never seen before, something they didn’t have the slightest chance of fighting?
The door thudded against the outer wall of the cabin. Winter glanced over her shoulder. Marcus had dragged himself across the floor and was clutching an uncapped bottle of poison in each hand. Before Winter could stop him, he tossed them both over the side of the ship.
“Stop!” Winter shrieked.
Another bottle went over the edge. Winter tried to walk. She fell to her knees instead.
“Are you happy now?” she demanded. “Knowing you spent your dying moments trying to kill as many people as possible?”
Marcus didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t have the strength to do anything but let out one last laugh.
Phoebe’s voice echoed in the distance. “Winter!”
Winter dragged herself along the railing toward the sound. Phoebe stood on the shoreline, waving her arms. River stood next to her. There was no sign of the city guard, or the mob.
“Is the cure still ready to be released?” Winter called hoarsely.
River nodded. “We already started it.”
“What happened?” Phoebe demanded.
Winter glanced at Marcus. He was face down on the ground now, although he still seemed to be breathing. “He was bringing the boat back up to release poison. I was right.”
“Oh, you were right?” Phoebe asked incredulously. “Are you happy now?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Winter stormed back into the cabin, to the steering wheel. She twisted it as far as she could. The boat veered in response.
Once she’d turned the boat all the way around, she returned to the deck. Phoebe was jogging alongside the river now, clearly not done yelling at Winter. River followed a few feet behind.
“Did you kill my uncle?” she demanded.
“We offered him the damn cure. It’s not my fault he thought poisoning people was more important!”
“Winter, please, get off the boat!” River tried. “The guard ran off, and I think the mob dispersed, too.”
“Yeah, right.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “They won’t be happy until everyone Winter told them was evil is dead!”
“Maybe she can calm them down,” River suggested.
“And why would she do that?”
Winter’s hand tightened around the railing, the only thing keeping her upright. “I can’t come back.”
River shot her a desperate look that broke her heart. “What do you mean?”
“I am a criminal, River. There’s nothing for me in Devil’s Pass but prison.”
“What? You can’t just—you can’t just leave us!”
The ache in his voice put cracks in her facade. But she couldn’t let herself shatter. Not yet. “River, seriously, think about it. There’s no way they let me go after all this.”
“But you—” River’s pace faltered. “You can’t just…leave.”
Winter swallowed. “I’m sorry.” She thought of her parents. What was the last thing she’d said to them? In front of them? “And tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry, too. Even if they hate me now.”
“And where will you go?” Phoebe demanded. “To ruin some other city?”
“You know what Marcus did before he died?” Winter snapped at her. “You know what the last thing he decided to do was? Dump the last of the poison in the river, so that he could tell me about all the cities south of the pass who are about to get hit with a wave of sickness they have no hope of dealing with.”
Phoebe stumbled, nearly tripping, only saved by River’s hand on her arm. “He—did he?” she stammered.
“What, you don’t believe me?” Winter’s gaze briefly darted down to her knuckles. White as bone.
Phoebe lowered her head, shaking it. When she looked up again, tears streamed down her face. “No, I do believe you. I just can’t believe him. I thought I knew him.”
“I’m sorry, Phoebe.” It was hard to muster sympathy after Phoebe had fought her every step of the way, but it was also impossible to ignore that Phoebe’s intentions had been good. She simply hadn’t wanted anyone to die. Hopefully, she would learn something from this mess. Maybe even accept that some evil could only be stopped by death.
“So, what? You’re following the river?” Phoebe asked as she wiped an arm across her face. She sounded like she was on the verge of sobbing.
Winter nodded. “There are supplies on the boat, and all of his records and journals. I have to hope it’s enough for me to help them.” She swallowed. “It’s—it’s what I have to do. Something that’s purely good, for once. No more death.”
“Let me come with you,” River pleaded.
Winter shook her head. “We can’t both abandon Mom and Dad. Not right now. And I need to know that there are people here working to make things better. Do what you can to undo the worst parts of my plan. Calm everyone down. Make sure the plague recipe doesn’t get suppressed.” She swallowed and added, “And do what you can to see that someone better gets elected in place of Atherton and the rest of the council.”
The currents were getting stronger, the boat moving faster. River and Phoebe weren’t going to be able to keep up much longer.
“One last thing!” Winter reached into her coat. “You won!”
“What?” River asked.
“Three of stars. You had ten of jewels.” Winter held up the card she’d drawn the night before, along with the locket. “You won.”
River stopped. “Wait, no, we didn’t—”
“Catch!”
River’s hands went up just in time to catch the locket.
“I’d throw you the card, too, but I don’t think it would make it.” Winter’s eyes had begun to sting. She fought back the impending tears. River and Phoebe had both stopped running, and they were almost out of earshot.
Not that it mattered. What else was there to say?
Winter couldn’t keep herself together any longer. She turned away and staggered inside. Once she’d collapsed onto a chair, she let it out. The fear. The anger. The ocean in her chest squeezing her lungs and crushing her heart.
Tears blurred her vision. Sobs wracked her chest.
If she spent the rest of her life undoing Marcus’s mistakes—and maybe even her own—so be it.
Devil’s Pass was behind her, and she could only hope that the people would pull through, that the hospital’s doctors would triumph, that River and Phoebe and everyone she’d fought for would survive. No, not just survive. Live.
She needed to take care of her injuries and wounds. And then—
She had to deal with Marcus’s body. Groaning, Winter stood up. Before that, she needed to make sure he was really dead this time.
He’d managed to roll onto his back and stared up at her as she approached. No anger, no triumph, nothing. Just an emptiness behind his eyes.
“Any last words?” Winter asked.
Nothing but a hint of a smile on his lips. He knew, didn’t he? He knew she’d ruined her own life to stop him, and she’d keep working to stop him, even after his death.
Maybe he’d won, after all.
Winter picked up the sword. This was the easiest kill yet. Not just physically. Relief flooded Winter as the light finally left his eyes.
Right. Her injuries. Then deal with the body. And then…
While digging around looking for medical supplies, Winter found a familiar book. The first Plague Bible. The book that had helped her save countless patients, until Marcus had made her return it to him.
The hardest task in the foreseeable future would be figuring out which cities were at risk. Winter supposed she’d travel until she saw some sign of civilization and go from there.
She sank back into the chair and peeled off her coat. She pulled out the three of stars card—stained with her own blood— and set it on top of the Plague Bible.
Behind her, an empty jar tipped over and cracked. Winter glanced over her shoulder in time to see a small white rat dart to the edge of the counter. She took a slow step toward it. Blood stained its fur, and one of its legs appeared injured.
Winter held out a hand and let the rat sniff her cautiously before stepping into her palm. It must have been tougher than the rest to last this long.
“Just you and me, I guess,” Winter murmured. “Mind if I call you Daisy?”
By the time the sun went down that night, she’d left the land of ice and cold behind. She sat on the boat’s deck and watched the sky darken. Even as the last rays of sun disappeared, she could still feel their warmth on her skin.
Undoubtedly, it would drop to freezing temperatures again within a few hours, but this was a reminder that there could be something good for her in the south. Something more than self-inflicted punishment for the things she’d done.
Maybe there was still hope for her, in another time and place.