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Not only Jack, Harte thought. Thoth.

The Brink’s icy power was a cold warning the closer they came to the dock, but they pushed through, desperate to reach the boat and Jack.

But it was too late. Jack was already moving away from the dock, steering the craft out into the water, away from the shoreline.

They couldn’t let him escape, not when he was so determined to destroy the Brink. Esta knew what it would mean if he succeeded. She’d seen that future as she fell through the years, and she could not allow that to happen.

Esta started to leap for the boat, but Harte held tight to her.

“You can’t,” he told her. “Not with the Brink.”

Jack stood on the back of the craft, his eyes as black as the night itself, watching them. As the boat drifted silently out into the East River, toward the Brink and away from any chance of catching him, Harte heard a laugh carrying across the water to him. Not Jack’s, but someone far more ancient and powerful.

THE GAME OF FATE

The Safe House

Esta paced in front of the windows, occasionally glancing out to the snow-covered street outside Dolph’s safe house. She could tell it was beginning to annoy her friends, who must have felt every bit as frustrated and disappointed as she did, but she needed to move. She should’ve been out there, doing something.

But what could she do? Jack was gone, beyond the Brink. And he’d taken the Book and any sign of his machine with him. All they could do was wait for word from Abel and his friends, who had left the city in an attempt to track Jack. But none of them were good at waiting.

She still couldn’t quite believe that she was there, back in the past. She couldn’t believe that everything had gone so very wrong. And it had happened so quickly.

Back in the future, before they had talked with Dakari and before the Guards’ attack had thrown everything off, Esta had felt certain they could succeed. They’d had the Book and the stones, and because of that, they had Seshat’s power to control. But in a matter of seconds, she’d managed to screw everything up. If she could have just held on a little tighter as they slipped through time, maybe they would have had longer to plan. If she had only been a little stronger, maybe things would be different. Maybe even without the Book, they could have changed more.

By arriving so late in the year, they’d missed their opportunity to stop any of the events that happened after they’d handed Jack the Book months before. The Order’s gala, the heist at the Flatiron Building, even the attack on Ruby’s wedding—those events couldn’t be changed now, unless she was willing to change the lives of the people she cared about.

Esta couldn’t do that—wouldn’t do that—especially not now that she’d met Ruby and Cela. Not once she’d understood the bonds that her friends had formed with those women because of what they’d been through together while she and Harte were gone. She couldn’t take that from them, especially when there wasn’t any guarantee that going back farther would make anything better. Because even if they went back, they still wouldn’t have the Book or the artifacts.

The only real choice was to stay, to go forward from this point and fight with all they had. But while they all understood that their failure to catch Jack before he slipped away meant that they may not have another chance to stop him until the Conclave, Esta and Harte more than the others knew the additional dangers that event held.

“Would you sit down already?” Viola barked with a frustrated huff. “Back and forth all day—you’ve been wearing a hole in the floor, and I can’t watch you no more. It’s driving me mad.”

Esta’s feet came to a stop as she realized everyone was looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she told them, feeling suddenly awkward. “I just—I don’t know what to do next, and I’ve never been good at waiting.”

“Come and sit,” Jianyu said gently. “We all feel the same.”

Harte slid the chair next to him back from the table, and she took it, grateful for his presence. At least she still had him. At least they had this time together.

Cela came in a few minutes later, brushing the snow from where it had settled in the curls of her dark hair as she took off her heavy coat and hat and set them aside.

“Any news?” Esta asked, even though she knew Cela would have led with the information if there had been any.

She shook her head. “Abel’s got people on almost every line running out from New Jersey. If Jack shows up, we’ll know. But so far there hasn’t been any sign of him.”

“He’s staying close,” Harte said, his voice heavy with the same regret they were all feeling. “He’s not going to run. He’s just finalizing his plans.”

“I can’t believe we let him go,” Viola said, temper lashing her words. “I should have killed him when we first found him, before he had the chance to run. That should have been the plan.” She paused then, her expression heavy with regret. “But I couldn’t even stop him from running.”

“Because he’s more than Jack,” Esta told her. “He’s been able to slip past my magic as well.”

“Jack will return,” Jianyu assured them. “He was too determined to take power from the Order, too certain of his victory to turn away from it. Now we must put aside our regrets and begin to plan. Jack will attack the Conclave and attempt to destroy the Brink. We must find a way to stop him there.”

But at the mention of the Conclave, the memory of Nibsy’s diary sent a bolt of fear through Esta. If they stand with you, they’re sure to die. You’ve seen their future. You know their fate.

She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t allow them to die there. But she’d seen that vision of what a future without the Brink could be. She’d felt the emptiness, the hollow nothingness of a world unmade, and she could not allow that to happen. Still…

“The Conclave is too dangerous,” Esta said. “There has to be some other way, some option we haven’t considered.”