Page 10

“Wait.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, allowing himself one more moment of hope, of her, in case everything went wrong, as it probably would. In case the Quellant didn’t work again. In case Nibsy got the best of them this time.

Harte wanted to stay there, his mouth against hers, their breath intermingling, and pretend that their life could be easy. But he knew it wasn’t possible—wouldn’t ever be possible as long as Nibsy was chasing them and Seshat lived beneath his skin. The fog was still growing, still creeping malevolently toward them, so he pulled away, but he was glad to see that Esta’s expression had turned as soft and dazed as he felt.

Her tongue darted out, licking her lips, and he felt a pull low in his gut. And he knew it didn’t matter if they had a thousand years—it wouldn’t ever be enough.

When she spoke again, her voice was rough with emotion. “Okay, Everett. Floor it.”

GONE

1920—Brooklyn

Even with their lives hanging in the balance, Esta could only focus on the feeling of Harte’s kiss still on her lips. Her arm might have been aching from the cuts and burns beneath the bandage before, but she barely felt those wounds now. She hardly felt the pain or the fear or even the weight of what was before them—because suddenly, everything felt right.

They’d been running for so long—too long—and even now they were running straight into danger, but when he’d stopped to kiss her, the weight of the world had lifted. Everything narrowed to nothing more than the two of them together. And if that was all she could ever have, she would take the memory, tuck it away, and keep it with her.

But there was no more time. There was only action, because the strange fog was now at the nose of the truck, and in a matter of seconds, they would be covered by it.

Everett threw the truck into gear, and the second it lurched forward, Esta released time and Harte. As the truck punched into the dense soup of the fog, she could feel a cold energy surrounding her. She couldn’t see a foot in front of the truck, but she knew the second Seshat had awoken because she felt Harte flinch away like he was suddenly afraid to touch her. It took only a matter of seconds—barely time to take a breath or blink—and they were coming out through the other side. The fog grew thinner, and then daylight broke through.

Esta reached almost immediately for Everett, for her affinity, ready to pull time slow once she was sure they were free of whatever that trap had been, but as the murky light of the overcast day found them, her affinity slipped from her, and gunfire erupted.

“Go!” she screamed, but Everett was already shifting the truck into a higher gear and pushing the heavy vehicle’s engine as hard as he could.

Harte’s instincts had been right. As they breached the fog, they ran straight into an ambush. The alleyway was blocked by a line of men—Five Pointers, from the looks of it. The sharp, rapid retort of their guns echoed off the brick walls, as the glass of the windshield shattered.

“Get down!” she yelled to Harte as she ducked below the level of the dashboard and tried to shield herself from the shards of glass. She grabbed for Everett’s wrist and tried again to pull the seconds slow, but Esta could feel the cold tendrils of the fog’s energy still clinging to her. It felt like she’d walked through a particularly thick spiderweb. The sticky coolness of the corrupted magic clung to her skin, making it impossible to get a good grasp on her affinity. She would find the seconds and the world would almost go still, but then they’d slip away from her.

The truck swerved, and the sound of the shots followed them. Then suddenly the truck lurched to the left as they were hit from the side. Horns sounded as Everett steered the truck back into their lane, barely avoiding other traffic.

“You need to do your thing,” Everett said, his voice tight and pained. “I don’t know if I can shake them.”

“I’m trying,” she said. She almost had it, though. The cold wisps of the fog’s unnatural energy were almost gone. “Just keep them off our tail a little longer.”

Next to her on the floor, Harte was drawn and pale. His hands shook as he struggled to bring the tablets of Quellant to his mouth. She wanted to help him, but she knew that Seshat made touching him too dangerous.

“Esta—” Everett’s voice was strained. “Please. You have to—”

The truck lurched again, and suddenly her affinity was whole again. Without hesitating, she grabbed the seconds and pulled them slow, but the world had barely gone quiet when Everett’s hand fell from the shifter. She looked up to find Everett slumped over the steering wheel. His foot was still on the gas pedal, but he wasn’t conscious. She grabbed the wheel and swerved around the stopped car they’d been about to slam into.

The world was silent now except for the roar of the truck. Everett’s foot was still wedged on the gas pedal, and the truck was still careening through the Brooklyn streets, but Everett wasn’t steering it.

“Everett…” She tried to pull him back off the wheel, tried to shake him to get some response, but he slumped back into the seat, his head lolling to one side as he let out a weak groan. That’s when she saw the blood.

He’d been hit. She couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from, but there was so much of it. His eyes were partially opened, unfocused, but he was still breathing—and still bleeding.

“Everett. You have to hold on, okay?” She let go of his wrist to freeze him in time and keep him from bleeding any more as she swerved the wheel and barely missed a milk truck. His foot was still wedged on the gas pedal, and it was all she could do to guide the truck around the traffic. She knew that if she pushed his leg aside and moved his foot off the gas without depressing the clutch at the same time, the truck would stall. Maybe she should do that. She could switch places with him and drive. But her affinity still felt off, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold the seconds at bay. They were still too close to the Five Pointers—or whoever it was that Nibsy had sent after them—to risk wasting any time. The farther away they could get, the better.

Esta looked down to find Harte frozen and pained-looking on the floor of the passenger side. The Quellant was still in his hands, but he didn’t look like he’d been otherwise harmed. He couldn’t do anything to help as long as Seshat was freed from the Quellant’s effects, and she couldn’t let go of time for that to happen as long as they were so close to the warehouse. She was on her own. She had to hold on to everything a little bit longer until she could lose Nibsy’s guys and get them somewhere safe. So she left Everett’s foot where it was, left the truck in gear, and tried to steer them through the silent, stopped Brooklyn traffic without killing anyone. But she had no idea where she was going.

When she turned down one of the side streets, Esta realized she’d made a mistake. The street dead-ended into a strip of land, and beyond that lay the river. At that speed, they would end up in the water. Without much choice, she pushed Everett’s foot aside and felt the truck shudder as the engine stalled out. She barely managed to reach the brake before the truck hit the curb of the street and its front tires reached the edge of the grass.

As the engine hissed and shuddered, Esta simply sat there, trying to catch her breath. Unsure of what to do. She had no idea if they’d been followed. Pulling back Everett’s jacket without touching any of his skin, she looked for the wound and saw that he’d been hit twice—once in the side and once in the upper thigh. Stuck in her net of time, his wounds weren’t bleeding, but the instant she released her hold on the seconds, they would.

In the distance, the city waited beneath a heavy sky. The bridge rose from the water, a pathway toward her eventual fate, summoning her onward, but for now, the world was silent.

She had to release time. She knew that. She needed Harte to help Everett, and Harte needed the Quellant to be any use at all. But she didn’t know just how far Nibsy’s plans had gone. She had no idea what might happen when she released the seconds. For sure, Everett would start bleeding again. Seshat would likely rise up and fight. And there could be more of the Five Pointers, more of Nibsy’s men waiting, ready for when they appeared.

But hesitation wasn’t going to help her. She couldn’t sit there, stuck in the abeyance of time forever. The minutes had to continue on, and so did she.