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Cela’s throat went tight as she gave a small nod, grateful for her brother in every way a person could be grateful. “You better go on and talk to Joshua, then. Make sure he got us one of those big places up on Madison Avenue.”

Abel shook his head, and it was clear he was more amused than truly exasperated when he left.

A few seconds after her brother went out to talk to their friend, Viola slipped into the room soundlessly. And alone.

Cela’s skin prickled with dread. “You didn’t find him?”

“Golde said he left not long after we saw him,” Viola told her. “There’s no sign of him after then.”

“He wouldn’t stay away like this on purpose,” Cela said.

“I know,” Viola agreed. “Something’s happened.”

“The Order?”

Viola frowned. “Maybe, but we have other enemies. Some closer to home.”

“Nibsy,” Cela said, thinking of who else might want to harm them. “Or the Five Pointers?”

“It could be any of them,” Viola admitted. She stepped forward and laid her hand on Cela’s arm. “We’ll find him.”

The door opened, and Abel entered in a rush. “Get your things,” he said, not even noticing the somber mood of the room. “Take only what you can carry.” When Cela didn’t move fast enough for his liking, he started throwing some of her sewing supplies into a bag himself.

“Abel, what are you doing?” Cela asked, confused by the sudden change in her brother. “What’s going on?”

Abel paused long enough to meet her eyes. “There’s a group of men checking apartments one building over. And they’re headed this way.”

TRUST AND LIES

1983—City Hall Station

The last thing Harte remembered, he’d been tumbling from the moving train and landing hard—so hard that Seshat had been shaken into silence. But she hadn’t remained silent for long. He’d barely had time to breathe before she’d started up again, her banshee’s voice tearing at him from the inside as her rage bubbled and churned within, threatening to rip the very essence of him to shreds.

Then Esta had appeared above him. She’d been telling him something. Or trying to.

He couldn’t hear her over Seshat’s terrible noise, but he’d understood her intention. Even with all that had gone wrong, she wouldn’t give up. Esta would walk straight into the trap Nibsy Lorcan had set for her, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

And then, all at once, she was gone. Gone. Like she’d never been there at all.

In the distance, Harte heard the rumble of one of the underground trains and understood what must have happened. Esta had used her affinity. She’d left him to go after Nibsy by herself.

Looking around, he tried to get his bearings. The station was a dark, cavernous space. In his own time, they’d already started building the subway system. He’d walked by the opened streets many times, marveling at the audacity of the plan, but he hadn’t imagined what it would actually be like to be completely underground. To feel so… entombed.

But then, he never could have imagined that the city would become the marvel that it was now. The piles of trash everywhere weren’t that different, but the height of the skyline. Even through the haze of Seshat’s fury, he’d been struck by the wonder of it all. The dizzying brightness of the buildings lit from within and the speed of cars streaming by.

He needed to figure out what to do next, but it was all he could do to keep himself from flying apart. He had to think. Esta had gone to deal with Nibsy on her own, but she never would have let go of her hold on time. Not unless something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that he was even aware that she’d left—and the fact that she hadn’t returned—meant that she was in trouble.

Harte thought of the fog back in Brooklyn, the strange energy that had blasted through the Nitemarket and the convention in Chicago, and the Quellant that Maggie had invented. Even something as simple as the opium the Veiled Prophet Society had used in St. Louis to protect the necklace. There were so many ways to deaden an affinity and strip someone of their magic, and Nibsy Lorcan likely knew all of them.

Bracing himself against the onslaught from within, Harte tried to get to his feet. He had to find a way out of the station. He had to find Esta.

At the thought of her, Seshat’s power slammed against the thin barrier that held her back, and Harte stumbled from the force of it, falling over again. His skin felt both feverishly hot and sickly cold at the same time, and his limbs were trembling. The ancient goddess had been quiet until they’d crossed back into the city. The second they’d breached the Brink, she’d become erratic. Desperate. Terrified. And her fear made her power feel even more dangerous.

Seshat screamed and raged as she railed against the bars of her cage, and Harte understood her intentions too clearly. She would destroy Esta and the world itself to keep Thoth from touching her power.

“He’s gone. Thoth is dead.” His unsteady voice was barely audible in the huge, vaulted chamber, even to himself. “He can’t touch you.”

Fool, she wailed. Thoth is not gone. As long as he is anywhere, he is everywhere. And if he succeeds in controlling my power, nothing will stop him from claiming the beating heart of magic as his own. He will be unstoppable. Infinite. There will be no time, no place safe from his destruction.