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He was still shaking his head, still holding on to her like it was the only thing that mattered.

“Let her go,” Maggie whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” North soothed. “Don’t you concern yourself with any of this, Mags. You focus on staying awake until we can get you to this Dr. Ford, and I’ll worry about Esta.”

“No, Jericho. You have to let her go.” Maggie coughed, a wet, groaning cough. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what? If I let her go, she’ll go back and change everything,” North said, his eyes burning with a kind of unholy fire. “I only just got you back.”

Maggie was shaking her head, or she was trying to, but the effort of it seemed nearly too much for her. “There’s nothing that could keep me from you, Jericho Northwood. Call it what you want. Fate. Destiny. Some things are meant. We’re meant. Time can’t unmake what we are. Even if this bullet is the end of me.”

“It’s not gonna be,” North said, clutching Esta more tightly to him.

“Might,” Maggie whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

“She’ll have a better chance to survive this if you get her to George’s doctor,” Esta told him. “You don’t need me for that.”

“I can’t let you go,” North said, turning his grief on her. It wasn’t anger in his expression now, but pain and sorrow and fear.

“Yes,” Esta said. “You can. Go on and release my wrist and take care of your girl.”

North seemed frozen with indecision. “She’s the best part of my life. I can’t let you take her from me.”

“I’m not going to take her from you, but that bullet might,” Esta told him. “Maggie’s right. Nothing is going to stop the two of you.” If that wasn’t the truth, Esta would do whatever she could to make it the truth. “Let me go, North. You’re wasting time. We all are.”

North stared at Esta, his eyes brimming. Still, he didn’t release her.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Esta asked. “If I go back, this never has to happen. Maggie never has to be here. She never has to get wrapped up with me. She could live. She could spend her whole life safe and sound in St. Louis.”

“Without me…,” North whispered.

“You’d risk her life to keep her?” Esta asked softly.

North seemed torn between the different ways he could lose her, stuck in his indecision.

“If I make it back, like I’m planning to, I’ll do everything I can to make sure the two of you find each other,” Esta promised. “But I don’t think I’ll need to. I think Maggie’s right. I think there are some things that time itself doesn’t have any power over.” At least, she hoped there were.

North looked like a man being split in two. “I’m betting my whole world on you keeping your word,” he said, before he finally released her.

“I will do everything in my power to keep it,” Esta told him. One way or another, she would make this right. “Now get going before they realize we’re gone.”

Esta watched the wagon drive off into the night, heading in the direction of town. She didn’t know what would happen to Maggie. The wound had looked bad, but Esta’s concerns now had to be on Jack and on retrieving the Book that could change her fate. She pulled time around herself, familiar and comfortable as her own skin, and started back.

Slipping through the crowd was easy enough, especially with her affinity clear and steady. No darkness tinged her vision, and the knowledge that it had never been Seshat was both a comfort and a source of bitterness. She’d wasted so much time with fear and hesitation—for nothing. She wouldn’t waste another second.

Jack wasn’t there with the rest of the crowd, but from the tableau of people all looking in the direction of the supply tent where they’d found North, Esta had a feeling where he would be. She wasn’t wrong. Inside the tent, she found Jack and two other men. Cordelia was slumped against the pole where they’d tied her, but her face had been bloodied. She looked to be unconscious, but Esta wasn’t interested in wasting time on the sharpshooter now. Her focus was only on Jack.

The days that had passed since she’d seen him in St. Louis had clearly taken their toll. He had his hand in the air, his finger pointed toward one of the Curtis brothers, and his face had turned a dangerous shade of red. The way his jacket tugged to one side made it painfully obvious that Jack was concealing something there—at least, it was obvious to a thief.

She was so close. So close. It was a simple matter of easing up next to Jack, of dipping her fingers into his inside jacket pocket—careful not to touch any part of him—and… yes.

Esta’s fingers brushed the worn leather of the Ars Arcana, and she carefully started to pull the small volume from Jack’s pocket. Little by little, she worked it free, and then, after what felt like an eternity, she had it. The Book dangled from her fingertips, and Esta could barely breathe from the relief of it all. But when she adjusted for a more secure hold of the Book, Jack’s hand grabbed her wrist. His fingers felt like iron, and for a second Esta didn’t quite understand what was happening. The world was still silent, still suspended in time.…

But Jack was not.

FROM THE DEPTHS

1904—San Francisco