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Maggie never should have pushed. She shouldn’t have questioned Esta or revealed what she knew about Harte Darrigan. She should have kept playing along, but Esta had seemed so sincere talking about her childhood that Maggie had thought maybe they could finally trust each other. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking, and because Maggie had pushed too far, Esta had run, the same as Maggie had feared from the very beginning.

Except… that wasn’t possible. Esta had taken a dose of the Quellant earlier that morning. She shouldn’t have been able to use her affinity to evade them. And yet…

Maggie stared at the spot where Esta had been and willed her back, but though the minutes ticked by, Esta never returned. Instead, a little while later the door to the apartment opened without warning, and Cordelia entered.

The sharpshooter took one look around, and her expression hardened. “Where’s Esta?”

“Gone,” Maggie said, realizing how completely insipid she sounded the second the word was out of her mouth. She knew exactly how bad it looked that Esta wasn’t there.

“You let her go out alone?” Cordelia asked.

Maggie was shaking her head. “I didn’t let her do anything.”

“Well, she’s clearly not here.”

Maggie didn’t know how to explain other than to say, “She disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” It was clear Cordelia either didn’t understand or didn’t believe her.

“Like a ghost. One second Esta was sitting right there. We were talking, and…” Maggie didn’t want to admit that maybe she’d been the cause. “It was like she’d never been there at all.”

“She can’t be gone,” Cordelia said, sounding suddenly every bit as worried as Maggie felt. “Losing the Thief would be a terrible mess for the Antistasi”—her eyes narrowed—“and for you.”

Something in Cordelia’s tone struck a chord of warning in Maggie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you ain’t the only one with friends in high places, Margaret,” Cordelia said, not quite answering her question.

Panic buzzed through Maggie like a swarm of angry bees. She couldn’t get herself to think clearly. She had to think.

“I gave her the Quellant,” she said as much to herself as to Cordelia. That fact alone should have meant something, but Esta had still managed to get away from her. Fear was starting to claw at Maggie now. “She shouldn’t have been able to go anywhere.”

A knock came at the door, and Maggie had a rush of hope that Esta had returned. But it wasn’t Esta. Jericho walked in, and for a second the buzzing stopped, the fear receded, and everything fell away—everything but Jericho Northwood.

He came back. All Maggie could do was take in every inch of him, grateful and happy that Jericho was there despite what she’d done to him. She could only hope it meant that maybe he’d started to forgive her, but before Maggie could say even a word of welcome, Cordelia piped up.

“What are you doing here?” Cordelia sounded more angry than surprised. “I thought we agreed that you’d stay where you were.”

“Maybe you agreed, but I told you I needed to talk to Maggie,” he said, stepping past Cordelia without even looking at her, but he’d only partially closed the distance between them when he stopped short. “Where’s Esta?”

“Gone,” Cordelia said, her nostrils flaring. “She managed to slip away from Margaret.”

“She disappeared,” Maggie corrected.

Jericho frowned. “Weren’t you still giving her the Quellant?”

“She took a dose this morning,” Maggie assured him. Then another thought struck her. The idea had been rustling in the back of her brain for some time, but it had grown louder when she saw Esta vanish. Now she could no longer ignore it. “You don’t think the whole story Esta told us about Seshat could have actually had some truth to it, do you?”

“No,” Jericho said. “Of course not.” But he didn’t look as sure as he was trying to sound.

Maggie could sense Cordelia’s unspoken questions, but she couldn’t worry about them. Not right then. She couldn’t let go of the idea that maybe Esta hadn’t been lying, as they’d originally suspected. The story she’d told them in that boxcar as they were leaving Texas had seemed ridiculous. Neither of them had really believed her, but Maggie had been happy to use Esta’s tale to her own advantage. Now she couldn’t help but worry that maybe she’d been wrong. “Still, if the story about that ancient goddess was real—”

“It’s not,” North told her. “We’re still here, aren’t we? The world hasn’t ended like she claimed it would.”

He had a point. They were all still there, whole and real. The world was still spinning on, seemingly untouched. If Seshat was real, the goddess certainly hadn’t followed through on her threat.

“Maybe this is all for the best,” North said, looking almost thoughtful. Almost relieved.

“I don’t know what either of you is going on about, but there ain’t no way this could possibly be for the best,” Cordelia said. “The Antistasi need Esta Filosik. She’s necessary to our cause.”