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“Are you so sure the world can be changed?” the maggot asked quietly.

“I know it can be changed,” Jack said, snapping with temper at the Chinaman’s impertinence. “And I am the one who will finally accomplish what the others could not. I will be the one to finally rid this city—this country—of the threat from maggots like you.”

He stalked forward, feeling sureness of his purpose heat his blood. Or perhaps that was the morphine.

“The old men who rule over the Order are convinced that the Brink is the solution to protecting the city from feral magic. They believe that the maggots who have sullied our streets can be contained.” Jack knew otherwise. If it were possible simply to contain undesirables, the Chinese vermin overrunning Mott Street with their violence and filth would never have even entered the city. They, at least, were easy enough to spot. But maggots in general? They hid too easily among the refuse of the city’s streets.

And they were still coming, more each day. The Brink did nothing to dissuade them. It certainly didn’t stop them.

It was the central problem that the old goats like his uncle failed to recognize—refused to see. The Brink could never be a solution to the dangers of feral magic because it depended on the power it harnessed from the maggots who dared to cross it. It needed them. It allowed them to live, to exist, because it had to.

“The Inner Circle refuses to understand. Vermin cannot be contained. Like the rats that plague our streets, they must be eliminated. And it must be now, before the danger grows any greater.

“Perhaps before, they could have bought themselves a few more years by strengthening the Brink. Perhaps with the Delphi’s Tear they could have even managed to convince the Brotherhoods of their continued importance. But now?” He reached up and gave the maggot a couple of quick, sharp slaps on his cheeks. “Thanks to you and your friends, the Order has nothing. No artifacts. No Book of Mysteries. No hope to regain their footing.” He smiled at the thought of their demise. Of his inevitable victory. “Soon they will have even less, and I will be the one to step forward and remake them.”

Jack walked over to the machine and ran his hand over the curve of one of the heavy metal arms. He gave it a gentle push and watched as the entire contraption lurched into a slow, graceful movement. The arms orbited around the center console, dodging past one another like an enormous gyroscope.

“We live in a modern age, an age of wonders. Why should we depend on antiquated magic when science can augment our understanding of the occult?” He stopped the swinging arms. “This machine is powered like every other machine—with electricity. It only requires something to harness the energy it harvests, so that energy can be used. Think of it—I will be able to protect the country from the feral power of maggots like you while providing enough energy to power a bright new future. All I needed was something like this,” he said, gesturing to the dagger.

The Chinaman remained silent, but Jack could tell he was impressed. He could see the utter fear in the maggot’s expression.

“There is the problem of scale,” Jack said, frowning. “A single machine can do only so much. With this one stone and the machine installed in Tesla’s tower, I could reach a hundred miles, more than enough to exterminate the vermin in this city. But what good would that do for the country? One machine doesn’t solve the problems we face, not when maggots are now pouring in through other ports as well.”

“You would make five machines,” the Chinaman murmured, his eyes wide with terror.

Jack only laughed. “You’re thinking of the other artifacts.” Which only confirmed his likely involvement with their theft. “No. I will make enough of them to cover the entire country. From sea to shining sea, as it were.”

He smiled at the confusion on the maggot’s face. “You seem to be making the same error in logic as the old fools of the Inner Circle have made,” Jack told him. “They believe their artifacts are so precious, so utterly unique.”

The Chinaman’s dark brows drew together. He seemed interested despite himself. “Are they not?” he asked.

“Oh, the Order’s artifacts are precious. They’re ancient pieces taken from the ancient dynasties. They’re powerful as well. But they are not singular. Once, they were the same as this.” Jack took the glittering black stone and lifted it to the level of the Chinaman’s eyes. “Nothing more than a gem, beautiful and pure. They were symbolic, but otherwise powerless until they were transformed by the Ars Arcana. It’s all here, in these pages. The ritual is complex, but not impossible to re-create. It only requires a maggot powerful enough to complete it.”

He placed the stone on the floor directly beneath the man’s body. “Luckily, Barclay and his bitch of a fiancée provided the perfect opportunity to find one.”

“The attack on their wedding was a trap,” the maggot realized.

“Well, it wasn’t only a trap,” Jack told him. “Barclay caused me enough trouble last June that he deserved his fate. I won’t mourn him in the least. But yes… I had hoped to ensnare more than Theo and his blushing bride. I knew that he must have had help to escape from the Flatiron Building, and I assumed that whoever saved him once would be willing to rescue him again. I was right. As I expected, you and your maggot friends came running to his defense. But you were too late, and you weren’t strong enough. Feral magic never is.

“Now I have everything I need. The power in the Book. The feral magic beneath your skin. And an enchanted blade to cut that magic from you,” Jack told him. “With the Pharaoh’s Heart, I’ll use you to transform this hunk of stone into something more.”

“You’ll create another artifact,” the Chinaman realized.

“Nothing so precious as an artifact,” Jack corrected. “I’ll create something more common, an object that can be reproduced as long as there are gemstones to mine and feral magic to harvest. With it, I’ll finally be able to balance the power of this machine. And with my machine, I’ll be able to destroy those who threaten our land. I’ll change everything. And the old men of the Order will have no choice but to step aside. What little power they’ve built over the last century will be mine to wield, and I will do even more than those old goats ever dreamed.”

“The Order cannot want you to take their power.…” The Chinaman couldn’t hide his confusion.

Jack scoffed. “Perhaps, but they’ll be too busy to realize what’s happening until it’s already done,” he said. “You see, the Conclave is destined to be attacked by dangerous maggots desperate to destroy the Order, just as they destroyed poor Theo Barclay. In the chaos, the Brotherhoods will be tossed into disarray. But I’ll be ready. The Order will finally recognize my greatness, as will the other Brotherhoods. And I will claim my rightful place as their leader. It’s a shame you won’t last long enough to see my victory.”

“You would attack your own?” the Chinaman dared to ask.

“I would save my own,” Jack corrected. “The entire city is already awash with fear after what happened at St. Paul’s. They will blame your kind for the terrible tragedy at the Conclave, just as they already blame you for Theo Barclay’s death. Imagine their fear when the richest and most powerful men of our time fall. The entire city—no, the country—will understand the threat that maggots like you pose.

“And in the wake of that tragedy, I will be the one to lead the Brotherhoods into a world built free from the dangers of feral magic. When the Brink falls, my machines will take its place, and with them, I will build a country clean of the maggots who would bring us low—a new century free of the dangers of feral magic.” Jack paused, cocking his head slightly as he considered the man. “And to make all this happen, all I require is a small sacrifice.”

The Chinaman suddenly seemed to realize the true danger he was in and began thrashing impotently against his invisible bonds.

“Now, now…” Jack smiled. “There’s no use fighting the inevitable, is there?”