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He still didn’t know why he’d taken it. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to admit that he needed to know that she would come for him—even if it was only in wrath and fury. Because he couldn’t bear to let her go, even if he would never deserve her.

Turning away from the window, Harte pulled his jacket around himself to ward off the chill. If there was any such thing as freedom—and he heartily doubted that there was—he knew now that it wasn’t in the landscape that passed outside the train’s windows. It was certainly nothing like the dream he’d once had to get out of Manhattan.

Now he had a different goal.

It wasn’t a dream, exactly, because that word—“dream”—was for people who had a future in front of them, and Harte knew that he was already living on borrowed time.

Find the stones. Take back the Book. Save the girl. He repeated the words to himself like a mantra.

What makes you believe she’s yours to save? The woman’s voice echoing in his mind was low and soft with a breathiness that made him think of torn paper.

She’s not mine. She never would be. But that didn’t mean Harte wouldn’t do everything in his power to save her just the same.

Seshat had been quiet since Harte had left Esta on the other train, but she laughed now, long and with a mocking edge that didn’t seem quite sane. He pushed open the window, desperate for air as he tried to shove Seshat back into the cage of his own soul. It was July, but the mountain breeze coming in through the open window had a bite of coolness to it. Or perhaps the cold was within him, deep down in his bones, where he’d never be able to shake it free.

A REVELATION

1904—Texas

Two years had passed since Jericho Northwood had been in Texas, but it might as well have been yesterday for how familiar the sun and heat felt on his face. North had barely managed to get out of the state with his life, and this time wasn’t turning out to be much different. Except now they had Esta. North’s own eyes told him that what was happening—what Esta was doing—was real. But there was a part of him still struggling to believe what he was seeing.

Everything had all happened so fast. One second, at Maggie’s urging—and against his better judgment—North had taken Esta by the hand, like she’d wanted. The next second, it was like he’d lost his hearing. It wasn’t simply quiet, though. Everything had gone completely silent, like his ears had plum stopped working. But the second North opened his mouth, he could hear himself talking, so he’d known it wasn’t his ears. It was everything else.

“What the—”

“We need to go,” Esta said, her voice shaking a little as she cut off his question.

“Are you okay?” Maggie asked Esta.

North could see why Maggie was concerned—everything about Esta looked strung tight as a bow. Her jaw was clenched, she was holding her body like someone about to be slapped, and the color had all but drained from her face.

Esta gave a small nod. “I’m fine,” she said in a strained voice that didn’t sound fine at all. “But we have to move.”

Before North could argue, Maggie was already reaching for the door. When she opened it and they stepped out into the corridor, North couldn’t stop the curse that came out. “What did you do to him?”

The porter was standing at a berth two doors down, his hand poised to knock. Frozen like a statue. The man’s face was lined, and there were tired circles beneath his eyes from his all-night shift. His dark-brown skin shone with sweat from the heat of the corridor, but though he was looking right at them, he didn’t seem to be seeing them.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Esta explained through gritted teeth. “I slowed things down around him.”

“Time,” Maggie said, without even a bit of fear. She sounded more curious than surprised. “You can manipulate time.”

Esta’s expression was still tight as she nodded. “We have to keep moving.”

As they passed the porter, Maggie took something from her pocket and tossed it at him. A moment later, a violet-colored haze began to swirl around the man’s head.

“What’s that?” North asked. “Something new?”

“New-ish. It’s a confounding solution,” Maggie explained. “It won’t hurt him,” she added quickly. The color deepened on her cheeks, like she was embarrassed—maybe even a little ashamed—of the concoction. Or maybe she was embarrassed because she’d been caught trying to keep this one from him.

Maggie knew how he felt about some of her formulations. It was one thing to use a bit of smoke to get away from the Jefferson Guard or the Society, but when you started messing with people’s minds—with their free will? Well, North didn’t quite know what he thought of that. “What, exactly, does it do?”

Even with her furious blushing, at least Maggie had the courage not to look away from him as she explained. “The solution will confuse his memories for a few days. He won’t be able to give anyone information about what happened or what he saw. Not for a while, at least. It will buy us some more time.”

“Can you two talk about this later?” Esta asked, looking even more pale than she had a moment before. She gave a nod to indicate that they should keep moving, and from the look she was wearing, North decided not to argue.

Outside the train, nearly two dozen riders, maybe more, were frozen on horseback, exactly like the porter had been. They looked like statues made of flesh and blood, defying the very laws of nature. Some of them were staring toward the train, and others had their mouths open, like they were caught in midshout. All of them were wearing a kind of angry determination North had seen in the eyes of Sundren too many times before.

Suddenly he understood the full significance of what Maggie had already realized. Esta could manipulate time. And she didn’t need any watch to do it.