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Maybe that revelation shouldn’t have come as such a shock to him, but North had always thought the pocket watch his father had given him made him somehow exceptional. Now he understood that the watch—and his own affinity right along with it—wasn’t much more than a parlor trick compared to what Esta Filosik could do. He’d been around a lot of Mageus during his time with the Antistasi in St. Louis, but North had never seen anything like this. Like her.

The Devil’s Thief.

He’d helped Mother Ruth and the Antistasi use the legend of the Thief to undertake all manner of deeds as they fought against the Veiled Prophet Society, but North had never really imagined that there could be anything to the stories. He’d thought it was all a bunch of horseshit to pretend that any single person could be that powerful. Now he found himself thinking—and hoping—that he’d been wrong. Esta had better be every bit as powerful as all the papers believed, because if she let go of time now, they would be exposed.

They maybe could’ve tried to make it to the town, but who knew what was waiting for them there—probably more of the same marshals, since that was the direction the riders seemed to have come from. In the near distance, though, a cluster of wooden towers sprang up from the otherwise desolate landscape and gave them another option. They looked like oil rigs.

“If we can get over there,” he told them, pointing toward the oil fields, “maybe we can lie low and figure out what to do next.”

“Then let’s go.” Esta nodded for North to lead the way.

They took off together, with the two girls following North in an awkward, loping run. Each step drew them closer to safety, and North started to think that maybe they could get out of the mess they were in after all.

They were about fifty yards from the train when North felt Esta jerk him back, her grasp tightening like a vise around his hand. He looked back to find out what had happened, but what he saw didn’t make any sense. Esta had stopped short, her expression twisting like she was in pain, but it was hard to look at her for very long. North could see her clearly enough when he didn’t stare straight at her, but he couldn’t quite focus on her. Beyond Esta, the world had gone all blurry-like. He couldn’t make out much of anything at all, including Maggie.

North didn’t have time even to begin processing what he was seeing before Esta’s hand went suddenly slack. Her grip had been so steady, so determined, that the last thing he’d expected was for Esta to let go of him, so he wasn’t prepared when her hand slipped from his and her legs collapsed beneath her. The second Esta released him, everything lurched into chaos. North was already moving, acting on instinct to scoop Esta into his arms before she hit the ground. Around them, the noise of the world felt suddenly deafening with the heavy roar of the train and the thunderous beats of the horses’ hooves.

A shout went up, and North knew they’d been spotted. The shot ricocheting off the ground next to them a moment later confirmed it. With one look at Maggie’s terrified expression, he began to shift his grip on Esta so that he could reach for his watch.

“Put me down,” Esta demanded, wriggling to get free from his hold. From how feebly she was pushing at him, he wasn’t sure she could walk on her own, but North let go. Sure enough, her legs wobbled a bit, and he had to catch her with one arm.

Maggie held out her hand to Esta. “We need more time.”

But Esta didn’t reach for Maggie’s hand again, like North had expected. Esta’s eyes were wide and her face had drained of all its color. She was shaking her head. “We need to go—the watch.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” North ground out as he flipped open the cover. His hands shook as he adjusted the dial. “Grab hold of me,” he told them.

Another volley of shots rang out, the clear report of them echoing through the hot Texas sky as he closed the watch’s face. The world flashed white, the way it always did, but as the day shifted into the coolness of night, North felt an invisible fist punch him in the gut, knocking the air from him. He stumbled, leaning into Esta. His legs felt like they were going out from under him. Esta swayed under his weight, and they both went down.

At first North didn’t feel any pain at all. He tried to sit upright, but he couldn’t bring the air back into his lungs.

“Jericho—” Maggie’s voice was shaking.

When Esta let out the kind of curse most women don’t know, much less say, North knew it was bad. He wanted to tell them that he was fine, but all that came out was a ragged groan as pain erupted, hot and searing, through his side.

With the two girls panicking, North’s mind was having trouble making sense of what had happened. The world was quiet now, dark as he’d intended. He’d taken them backward a few hours, and now above him, the Texas sky was swept with the brightness of stars he’d once marveled at. They lit the otherwise depthless night, but even the wonder of the stars couldn’t take away the aching pain.

With his free hand, North reached for the source of that pain, grasping his side. He couldn’t understand, at first, why his shirt should be wet. Then he looked down at his fingers and saw them coated with the dark stain of his own blood.

NO SUCH THING AS TOO LATE

1904—Texas

Esta staggered under North’s weight, struggling to keep them both upright, as the reality of what had just happened slammed into her. From almost the moment she’d pulled time slow, the shadow of Seshat’s power had been there, and the longer she’d held the seconds, the more intense it had become. By the time they’d run from the train, darkness had been swirling thick above her, like a storm threatening to break. And then it had broken, whole and complete, crashing over her until the world went dark. She didn’t remember anything else until she’d come to, slung over North’s shoulder like some kind of damsel who needed saving.

She’d dismissed the shadow she’d seen earlier, because she hadn’t wanted to think there was any way Seshat’s power could still affect her without Harte being close by. But Esta hadn’t survived for so long by ignoring the truth when it was staring her in the face. Something had changed.

There wasn’t time for her to consider what it meant, not when they were so exposed and not with the cowboy examining the blood on his fingertips like he didn’t know who it belonged to. All the while, the dark spot on his light shirt continued to grow.

My fault. Esta had lost her grip on time, and they’d been seen. There was no escaping that fact. North had been shot because she’d failed to do what she’d promised.

“No,” Maggie said, covering North’s wound with her hands, trying to stop the bleeding. “No, no, no…”

“Can you walk?” Esta asked North, ignoring Maggie’s growing panic. Even if the posse was gone and the night seemed quiet, they would be safer out of sight.

North’s jaw tightened as he met Esta’s eyes and nodded. Gently, he brushed Maggie’s hands away. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to straighten. He groaned when he moved, wincing with pain, but he managed to stay upright.

Clearly, he wasn’t fine, but Esta wasn’t about to argue if North was able—or at least willing—to walk on his own. North was tall, with a thin, rangy build, but he was solid beneath his clothing. She could help take some of his weight—and she did—but Esta doubted that even together she and Maggie would be able to carry him. The faster they found cover the better.