Page 9

“Maybe… But his goons can’t catch what they can’t see,” she said.

He admired her confidence, but then he’d always admired that part of her. Still, he couldn’t shake his unease. “But what about what happened in Chicago? In the Nitemarket and at the convention, the Order used something that interfered with our affinities.”

“He has a point,” Everett said.

“If the Order has something to null the Quellant, like they did in Chicago, the Professor might, too,” Harte told her.

Esta frowned. “We don’t have much of a choice, though. We can’t sit here and wait for whatever Nibsy might have planned. Our best chance is to move and hope we’re faster than he is.”

Harte hated that she was right, even if every instinct he had was screaming at him that this was a trap. “Fine. But we need to think this through. We need a plan.”

She considered the truck before turning to Everett. “Can you drive that thing?”

It took a bit of doing, but they got themselves into the truck, with Esta between the two of them. She had her hand wrapped around the bare skin of Everett’s wrist, so he could still maneuver the vehicle, and Harte had his fingers tangled with Esta’s, so they could all stay within the net of her magic. When Everett turned the key, the sound of the enormous engine cranking to life was the only noise in the otherwise silent day.

Everett put the truck into gear and turned it around, but they’d barely pulled out of the gated area when Harte told Everett to stop. The back part of the building was accessible by a narrow alley that turned sharply left before emptying out onto one of the main streets of Brooklyn. But when they’d turned the corner, Harte saw that his earlier instincts had been right. They definitely had a problem.

Esta swore softly beside him.

“What is that?” Everett asked.

Ahead of the truck, the alley was filled with some kind of a thick, fog-like substance. It was dense enough that Harte couldn’t make out anything beyond it. There was no way to see what waited for them within the soupy murk—or on the other side of it. Worse, it seemed to be moving. With every passing second, it filled more of the alley, approaching them and swelling in size despite the rest of the world being caught and held in Esta’s power.

“Whatever that is, it shouldn’t be moving,” Esta told them, sounding every bit as uneasy as Harte felt.

“I knew this was a mistake,” Harte said.

“We could go back?” Everett suggested. “Or, if they’re expecting us to take the truck, we could go on foot. Or find another way out of this place.”

Esta shook her head. “Nibsy would have accounted for the other exits too. At least the truck gives us a little protection, and it moves a lot faster than we could on foot.”

“You’re thinking we charge through,” Harte said, knowing already it was the only real option.

“I think we have to go for it,” she said. “Maybe if we expect the worst…” She didn’t finish.

At first, none of them spoke. The world hung in the stillness of her magic, and there was no sound except for the nearly deafening rumble of the truck’s engine. They all knew what the worst meant: they had the Book and four of the artifacts. If they didn’t get through that fog, Nibsy would have almost everything he needed.

“If that fog is anything like what happened in Chicago, we need to worry about Seshat.” He looked down at their joined hands. Whatever agreement or truce Esta might have made, he didn’t trust the goddess not to take advantage of any opportunity she could. “If that fog destroys the Quellant, I won’t be able to stop her.”

Harte started to release her hand, but Esta caught his fingers more tightly and didn’t let him go.

“He’ll be expecting us to use my affinity,” Esta said, considering the problem. “So maybe I shouldn’t use it. Maybe I should let go of time, and we floor it and see what happens. You can have more Quellant ready, just in case, and once we’re on the other side, I’ll pull time slow again.”

“If you can,” Harte said.

“If I can’t, at least we’ll be in the truck. We’ll have the benefit of speed. Maybe we’ll be able to lose them.”

“It sounds like our best option,” Everett said.

“It sounds like our only option,” Harte muttered, hating everything about the plan.

Ahead of them, the fog was closer still. It seemed to have grown denser, darker since they’d stopped.

“Get the extra Quellant ready,” Esta told him. “Just in case.” As he pulled the packet of tablets out of the leather satchel, she glanced at Everett. “Ready?”

Everett tightened his grip on the shifter and gave Esta a tight-mouthed nod.

“I’ll release time as soon as we’re moving.” She gave Harte’s hand a small squeeze, but before she could pull away, he caught her.