I throw myself to the floor when Victoria pulls the hammer. The stock lunges forward like a muscle, steam hisses in the brass barrel, and the bullet bursts out.
My body hits the floor and I roll to the side. The gun fires again and this time another body collapses. A man in a suit, a low-slung grey cap on his head. Even as his perforated corpse falls I recognize him as one of the passengers. It's the one who'd been in the lavatory when Keath did his rounds.
I scramble up and plant myself in the compartment next to Victoria. She has the weapon now.
To my surprise, the assassin rises too.
Victoria clicks her tongue but doesn't fire again. Soon the attacker stands to his full height. His suit shows two bullet holes – both where his heart should be. Yet the skin beneath is unbroken.
He's a Steamer.
"Who sent you?" Victoria asks.
The man glances at me first, then smiles at Victoria. From that odd behaviour I understand he expected to be shot. He is truly an assassin, then.
Looks like I'm not the only one being hunted.
For a moment the three of us stand frozen, and no one speaks. That favors Victoria. Time works against the attacker, and it's only a matter of minutes before more people come to investigate.
The only question is... do I want the attacker to win?
My hesitation must show, because the man draws a pistol himself and trains it on Victoria without even looking at me. I can make out the Blackwood crest stamped on the brass.
Victoria fires first. This time she aims for an arm. The bullet hits the assassin's shoulder. No blood flows, but apparently dampening recoil isn't part of his Steamer gifts. The gun arm is knocked off course and his shot goes wide, burying itself in the compartment couch.
Blackwood's next shots find his fingers. The pistol skids across the floor. Two more rounds slam into his head – right at the forehead, where they should have mashed his brain.
He stays on his feet and grunts.
"Tiresome," he says.
A hollow click beside me tells me Victoria's gun is empty.
The assassin lunges at Victoria with fists clenched. He slams into the young woman and she's thrown back against the table. She gasps but manages to land a blow to his ribs.
I notice I've unconsciously edged to the rim of the compartment.
I'm hiding from an assassin again. Even if he's not mine.
Victoria and the man tumble into a grapple. It quickly becomes clear it isn't much of a fight. Victoria is a Steamer, but she still hasn't used her ability. The man is at least two weight classes heavier and stronger than she is.
He takes the advantage. They go down, he pins her, hands locked tight around her throat. He bleeds from the cheek – but not from a bullet.
Victoria's face flushes.
"Why does she do nothing?" I think. I know she's a Steamer. I saw it, years ago.
Does she want to die?
Do I want her to die?
Yes, I understand. I want her punished. For what her family did. I want her to vanish and feel, even if just for a few seconds, the same darkness I felt for the past two years.
Then I hear my father's voice. The words he spoke when my sister and I fled that day.
Children should not be made to atone for their parents' failures. Back then he meant House Redsong's failures. Today he would mean Victoria Blackwood.
I intervene. The blood and the sworn Redsong vows run in my veins and bind me, no matter what my heart desires. I am a Bleeder and I rule the oaths. Fate left me the only survivor, but it did not make me heartless.
My legs move. Victoria's eyes are red. It looks like she's about to do something, but then she sees me. She sees me throw myself onto the assassin's back and loop my arms around his neck from behind.
Every muscle in my body tenses as I squeeze and cut off the attacker's air. He immediately releases Victoria, claws at my arms, but my forearm is already pressed hard against his trachea. I can't see his face, but he heaves himself off the floor and tries to shake me loose. My legs are wrapped tight around him.
I've got him. He weakens. Victoria is free and hacking for breath. She looks at me with wide eyes.
I saved her.
Is there shame in that thought? Because I saved her, or because I'm about to kill a man?
"I hate assassins," I say, and press harder.
The man exhales his last breath and rasps.
"Red... Redsong sends its regards."
Two bullets bore into my body. There is no pain, but I suddenly can't move anymore.
In my last conscious moment I watch myself bleed. I see three more bullets exit the assassin – two from his head, one from shoulder and hand. They tear across the compartment, riddling it.
The world goes black.