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“Put down that gun, Jericho,” Cordelia commanded. She took out a small revolver of her own and pointed it at him.

The gun was still in Jericho’s hand when he turned to Cordelia. “Don’t tell me you’re on her side too. I can’t believe you’d sit here and let her destroy everything the Antistasi have done—everything that we are?”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe or what you think,” Cordelia told him. “The Thief is essential. You are not.”

Panic skittered through Maggie. She didn’t think that Cordelia was making an empty threat. “Please, Jericho.”

He turned to her, his expression shadowed. “You want me to stand by and help her rearrange our lives? She’ll destroy everything we have.”

“I don’t think even Esta Filosik has that kind of power,” Maggie told him, the words coming before she could stop them, but they felt right somehow.

“She sure thinks she does,” Jericho said, glaring at Cordelia.

“You showed up in St. Louis wearing a snake around your wrist and carrying the Antistasi’s name in your mouth,” Maggie reminded him. “You of all people should know that the Antistasi are older and bigger than any one group of us. They existed long before the Thief, and they’ll exist long after, whatever changes Esta thinks she can make.”

“Margaret’s right,” Cordelia said. “Fate itself brought the Antistasi into being, and it will preserve us, whatever time—or this Thief—might have in store.” Her expression glowed with a kind of beatific fervor.

“Please, Jericho,” Maggie said again, pleading. “The Antistasi can survive this. They’re so much larger than one moment.”

“I wasn’t talking about the Antistasi,” he said softly. The pistol in his hand lowered a little, and the sadness in his eyes made Maggie’s throat go tight.

Too late, she realized his true meaning, and she stood, unable to move. Unable to speak. Stuck between two impossible choices.

“Let’s just go, Maggie,” Jericho pleaded as he lowered the gun completely. “Let Cordelia stay and deal with Esta if she wants, but if this life might disappear like it never was, why not enjoy what we have now? However long we might have left together.” He held out his hand to her.

“I wish I could,” Maggie whispered. She did not bother to stop the tear that broke free.

Jericho’s eyes shuttered. “But you won’t.”

“I have to see this through,” she told him, dashing at the wetness on her cheeks. Her throat was tight with everything she could not say, and her heart felt like lead. “You promised once that you would help me, Jericho. I’m asking you now to keep that promise.”

Jericho stared at her for a long moment, and Maggie worried that he would refuse. Cordelia still hadn’t lowered her gun, and Maggie wasn’t sure that the sharpshooter was in any mood to be forgiving. For the first time in a long time, Maggie could not tell what Jericho Northwood was thinking.

“This is really what you want, Mags?” Jericho asked.

Maggie only knew it was what had to be. “Please…” She wasn’t exactly sure what it was she was asking for.

Her plea hung in the air, and the silence that followed opened a chasm between them. In that moment, Maggie sensed that Jericho would turn from her, and after all she’d done to him—all her lies and evasions—it would be what she deserved. All she could do was stand there and hope, because she knew if Jericho turned away from her now, he would not come back. It would signal the end of something, and until that moment, she hadn’t quite understood how much she needed the dream of a future with them together.

“In that case, I suppose I should be getting back,” Jericho said finally. His voice rang as hollow as Maggie felt. “It appears I have a promise to keep.” He tucked away his pistol and gave Esta another cold, appraising look. But he wouldn’t look at Maggie, no matter how much she wanted him to.

Maggie didn’t feel like she had any right to ask Jericho for anything more, so she didn’t make any other plea. He left without another word between them, and she could not stop herself from flinching as the door closed behind him. With his leaving, something important had changed between them, and Maggie suspected that she would live to regret the choice she had made.

Cordelia stepped forward, but Maggie barely seemed to notice until the sharpshooter spoke. “You made the right choice, Margaret.”

“Did I?” Maggie asked, still staring at the closed door. She wished there was a way she could go after him and take it all back. “Because I’m not so sure.”

“You put your commitment to our cause—to the Antistasi—before your own personal gain,” Cordelia said. “It is what we all gotta do. We all make sacrifices for the greater good.”

But Maggie didn’t see Cordelia making any such sacrifice. All she could think about was the way the light had gone from Jericho’s eyes when she’d turned him down for the final time. She’d never forgive herself for being the one who’d dimmed it.

Cordelia turned to Esta. “Once we have the dagger, you’ll take us to the other artifacts. I’m sure you understand what a waste of time and energy it would be for you to try to run.”

Esta stared at her without replying, but even Maggie could read the defiance in her expression.

“We already know where y’all are going and what your plans are,” Cordelia reminded Esta. “If you try to leave, there ain’t no train you could take that’s faster than the telegram I’ll send to the network. Antistasi all across this country’ll be waiting for you and searching for your magician friend. Something just might happen before you could reach him.”

Esta’s eyes lit with fury. “If you do anything—”