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OVERCHARGED

Jack watched as the three bolts of light came together as one in the center of the park and reveled in the feel of electricity and power thick in the air. Everything was going exactly to plan. The Order had no idea that it had already initiated its own inevitable end.

Already, the electrical charges were coursing into the center of the park, hitting the precise location where multiple ley lines came together. The Order had believed themselves to be so clever, using the ley lines to carry the charge to the Brink. They’d believed it would be enough to simply give the magic surrounding the city a bit more energy, creating a visual demonstration that would keep their would-be usurpers quiet. What they didn’t realize was that the amplification of the ley lines, focused as they were through the grid of the city, could do more than illuminate the Brink. It could destroy it.

The Order hadn’t considered what would happen if the Brink were to be overcharged. They never suspected that the trustworthy minions they’d put in charge of starting the ritual might fail to stop it at the appropriate time. They had no idea how easily the Brink could shatter and fall, and with it, their control over the city.

But Jack would never allow the danger of feral magic once contained by the Brink to escape and pollute the country beyond. Once the Brink had fallen, Jack himself would step forward with the answer. With the push of a lever, he would show the Brotherhoods what the future could be. Not an antiquated boundary, limited by the magic of a bygone world, but a glorious machine. He would make them believe in what was possible—a world filled with machines capable of cleansing the entire continent.

Jack reached into his pocket and let his fingertips stroke the cracked and aged leather of the Ars Arcana. A voice inside him whispered of a promised future, of a glorious rise, and he thought he could almost feel the power within those pages crackle and pulse. Ever since he’d set himself on this path, as his plans had begun to come together over the past few weeks, the Book had seemed different somehow. Stronger. The power in those pages felt as though it was ready to awaken, and the voice inside him whispered that if he were brave enough, he could grasp it. Use it. Bend it to his will.

Murmuring a string of ancient syllables under his breath, Jack traced the symbol on the cover, and he felt the Book shudder. The cauldrons around the edges of the roof had been burning steadily with undulating flames of every color, but now, called forth by his words, they began to smoke. Unnoticed by those on the rooftop too interested in the pyrotechnics lighting the park below, a dark greenish-gray fog began to creep and grow.

By now the pathways of the park were molten with energy. Like lava, it flowed outward, following the grid that had been designed so many years ago to channel the power deep within the city’s core. Steadily, the light flowed and spread toward the land’s end, where the dark strip of water—and the Brink—was waiting.

OUT OF SIGHT

Cela was still near livid at Jianyu for keeping her out of their plans. She wasn’t much happier with her brother, who’d agreed without hesitation that it was better for her to stay outside and wait.

Outside. As though anything was going to happen outside. She huffed to herself, annoyed at the heavy-handedness of the men in her life.

“I know you’re not happy, but those noises you’re making aren’t going to convince me it’s a good idea to go in there,” Abel said from his seat on the driver’s perch.

“Ruby should’ve been out by now,” Cela told him. They’d been circling the blocks around Madison Square for the better part of an hour, waiting for some sign that things were progressing as planned inside, but none had come. The blond heiress was long overdue.

“There’s still time,” Abel said, steady as ever. “The final ritual doesn’t even start until after midnight.”

“Still,” she said. “There should have been some sign by now.”

“If something has gone wrong, we’d know.”

“How?” she asked.

“We just would,” Abel told her. But she realized he was sounding less sure by the minute.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t help.”

“We are helping,” he told her. “Someone has to be the getaway driver.”

“Some help,” she muttered.

Abel had a point, as much as she refused to admit it. Whatever was going to happen tonight wasn’t likely to be something her friends could just stroll away from. Someone had to be ready with a fresh horse and a good, solid carriage.

“Look, Rabbit, just because Mr. Fortune isn’t nervous about the Order these days doesn’t mean I’m going to take any chances with you,” Abel said. “Maybe they’ve backed off publicly, but those men aren’t stupid. They know that the patrols they sent to burn down the paper’s building didn’t die natural deaths. They know that Fortune and his people had protection, and they’ll be looking for any excuse to come after not only us but the whole community.”

She let out a resigned sigh. He was right. It wasn’t just their lives on the line. Cela might have been willing to risk that. But she knew what could happen when a whole community got blamed for a single man’s actions. It had cost her father his life, and others right along with him. She wouldn’t be the cause of that, no matter how much she might be worried about her friends.

When the first thunderous crack reverberated across the sky, Abel cursed and had to fight to keep the horses from bolting.

“I told you she should have been here by now,” she said, climbing into the driver’s perch with him. “It’s starting.”

When the second bolt crashed, they both knew something had gone wrong.

“We can’t just sit here,” she told her brother.

He didn’t respond, but she could see the worry lining his face.

When the third thunderous crack reverberated across the sky, she looked up to see the goddess of the tower’s bow lit and a bolt of light like an arrow’s path coursing down to the park, and she decided.