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“What about the girl?” Harte asked. “What happens to her if you sacrifice yourself and kill Nibsy?”

She’d been thinking about that problem ever since she realized that she could end the madness. She’d be dead, but that other version of her could go on. The girl could have the life that Esta should have lived, one not tainted by manipulation. One where she felt like she belonged.

“You could raise her,” Esta told him. “You could give her the life I never had.”

“No,” he told her, adamant. “Absolutely not.”

“Think about it, Harte,” she told him.

“I won’t,” said. “I can’t.” He threw up his hands. “Esta, even if I was willing—and I’m not—it wouldn’t work. Or have you forgotten? If you don’t send the girl forward, then you never come back to find the Magician—and that’s the end of me as well.”

Esta froze. She had forgotten. She’d been so wrapped up in the horror of what Nibsy had done to that other version of herself that she’d nearly forgotten that Harte’s destiny and hers were interlocked.

“You’re right,” she said, feeling more defeated than ever before. To choose between the girl—herself—and Harte? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Harte sighed and took her in his arms, holding her tightly in the familiar comfort of his embrace.

“It’s going to be okay,” Harte said. “We have time, and if we don’t, you’ll steal us more. We’ll figure out a way to deal with Nibsy Lorcan, but you have to promise me that you won’t give up and do something rash.”

“I just don’t see how we can beat him,” she whispered. Not when he knew so much.

Harte leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’re a thief, aren’t you? And I’m nothing but a very talented con. We’ll steal a future for ourselves, one way or the other.”

“You’re right,” she said, still feeling unsettled.

“Promise me you won’t do anything rash,” he said. “Whatever happens, we do this together.”

“I promise,” she told him, meaning the words.

Then he kissed her. His lips were cold, rough from the dry winter air, and she felt his relief in the kiss. But she did not allow herself to get lost in it.

“Okay,” she told him, pulling back. “We’ll figure it out.”

He stepped away, and she took a deep, steadying breath as she lifted the tip of Viola’s knife to her finger once more.

“Be careful,” Harte said, retreating farther.

We’ll figure it out. She had to believe that. She had to think that this hadn’t all been for nothing.

Gently, she pressed the blade into her finger, making the smallest cut possible. Blood welled at once, and without hesitating, she did what the ritual required and began to trace the symbol on the page open in front of her. Almost immediately, she felt something shift. Cold and hot energy climbed her arm as the page began to glow and the dark line of blood sank into the page. Three times she traced the figure, and then suddenly the page burst with light. A strange, humming energy brushed her cheeks, and she knew it was time.

She took the necklace first. The Djinni’s Star gleamed in the wan winter sunlight, the turquoise stone sparkling with silvery flecks that looked like a hundred universes. It seemed only fitting she take this one first, since it was the first she’d ever stolen, years before. Maybe it was superstitious of her, but she had the sense that there was some power to the repetition. She lifted it over the glowing pages and then, remembering how Jack—how Thoth—had used the Book, she lowered it and watched as it disappeared into the pages with another flash.

It had no sooner disappeared than she heard a far-off sound—a steady, pulsing whir that second by second grew closer. They were coming. She reached for the Delphi’s Tear and hoped there would be enough time to finish what she’d started.

INEVITABLE

1983—Central Park

When Esta had explained how they could use the Book to hold the artifacts, Harte had trusted her, but he hadn’t understood. The idea that the Book could serve as some kind of magical container outside of time had seemed impossible and too good to be true. But as he watched the heavy glittering necklace sink into pages that certainly weren’t thick enough to hold them, he began to believe that their plan might actually work.

The ring went next. The Delphi’s Tear with its heavy, clear stone and ornate golden setting disappeared into the page, the same as the necklace had. Then Esta reached for the Dragon’s Eye and was careful to keep the blood welling from her fingertip off the piece. The fantastical golden crown had cost his brother Sammie his life, and as Harte watched it disappear into the Book, he was reminded that, whatever the diary might prognosticate, he had no choice but to return to the past. It was the only way to give his brother a different future—a different fate. And he would find a way to save Sammie without sacrificing Esta’s life.

The Pharaoh’s Heart glowed blood red as Esta took it and began to feed the dagger into the Book, and when it had disappeared, the Ars Arcana pulsed with light as though it was hungry for more. Esta closed it securely instead. Ishtar’s Key would remain where it belonged, snug in the silvery setting against her upper arm.

“We need to go,” she said, looking up at the heavy winter sky. “They know we’re here.” She was already rewrapping the Ars Arcana in one of the Algonquin’s fluffy white towels.

Harte realized then that the far-off droning hum of the city had changed. It was getting louder, growing closer.