The Serpent's Curse Lisa Maxwell (famous ebook reader .TXT) 📖

over him and for a long, terrible moment, she thought it was too late. “Damn you, Darrigan,” she said, her words choked with her tears. She gave him a not-so-gentle shake until his chest rose and fell again. “Don’t you dare die on me until I make you pay for leaving me on that train. Do you hear me?”

He lay silent, his breath ragged.

They needed to get somewhere with more space, somewhere that might still be open in—how many years? She wasn’t sure. The street would be safer. A park if she could get that far.

“You hold on a little while longer, and I’m going get us out of here,” she said, talking to him and to herself at the same time. She was trembling with the fear of what would happen if he died as she considered which way they should go.

“No…” The word came out as barely a whisper. Harte’s eyes opened halfway. “Too late.”

He was right and he wasn’t. Maybe in 1904 it was too late for him, but now that Esta had Ishtar’s Key, Harte had a chance.

“It’s not even close to too late,” she told him, pulling him up so his head could rest on her lap.

Harte groaned at the movement, his face crumpling in pain. “Seshat… gone…”

“She’s gone?” Esta asked.

“Not yet.” Harte’s eyes seemed unfocused as he stared up at the starless sky. “But when I die—”

“You’re not going to die.”

His eyes found hers then, the stormy gray so familiar and so intent as they finally focused on her. “Thoth is coming.… Go. Leave—”

Esta choked back tears she could not stop from falling. “When have I ever taken orders from you?”

She felt the vibrations of what might have been a laugh shuddering through his chest. But then he gasped and looked up at her again. “I die… Seshat dies.”

The realization of what Harte was saying made Esta go cold. If she was being honest with herself, she’d known that this had always been one answer. Originally, before she’d returned to the past and changed everything, Harte had died on the Brooklyn Bridge. Originally, the Book had been lost, and Seshat had never been a threat. Harte wasn’t wrong. If he died now, the ancient goddess would be finished. The world would be safe. She had her cuff. She could go back, set things right before Nibsy could collect the artifacts. With them, Esta could possibly even find Jack and take back the Book.

And Harte would be gone.

It was an impossible choice—a single person for the world itself.

But Esta had the Quellant now, and she had her cuff. She knew how to get the artifacts back and she knew how to subdue Seshat. There was still a chance to save Harte and go back and set things right. She would not choose if there was still a possibility that she could do both.

From within the house, Esta heard a crash that told her time was running out. She gripped Harte around the midsection and pulled her affinity close, concentrating on the seconds and then beyond them, to the layers of years that were and would be. Searching.

A man appeared in the doorway, a satisfied smile drawing his thin mouth into a cruel curve. “Esta Filosik,” he said, apparently not realizing what she was doing.

She didn’t even bother to look up. All of her concentration was on searching for the right year. Too close and there might not be medicine advanced enough to save him. Too far, and Esta risked any number of things—including crossing the stones with one of her many previous trips through time.

“Mr. Grew sent us for you,” the man said.

Maybe she should have cared that this man could take her to the Book. Maybe she should have allowed him to lead her directly to Jack, but Esta knew Harte wouldn’t make it if she did.

“You can tell Jack Grew that he can go to hell,” Esta growled, finally finding the place she wanted—a clearing, a flash of chrome, and the whirling brightness of neon lights—and she closed her eyes and focused all her affinity on that time and place. On the possibility that waited there.

The man lunged for her, but she rolled them both away, through the layers of time to the city that waited beyond. As she slipped through, Esta felt the darkness rise in her. Around her. Consuming her. Seshat’s power felt weaker than before, but it was still more than Esta could control. The ground began to shake, tossing the man back as it cracked beneath his feet.

Power slammed through Esta, hot and potent and so satisfying, and suddenly she lost hold of the layers of time. The ground was still shaking beneath her, more violently now. She heard someone scream, a crash.

She knew it was Seshat, but she could not give up. Not when Harte’s life was at stake.

With all of the strength she had, Esta shoved Seshat’s power back as she pulled on her own affinity again. She felt Ishtar’s Key heat dangerously against her arm as she pushed through the layers. Another power was sliding alongside her own. The ground continued to tremble, and as a chasm opened beneath them, Esta found herself falling, not into the gap in the earth but through time once more as darkness swelled and the world began to crumble around her.

A NEW ALLIANCE

1902—New York

Viola sat with Jianyu at the edge of the small room at the rear of the house, listening to Abel Johnson explain the situation they were facing to his friends. The back room was crowded with people, like too many sardines in a can. The air was hot and close, and tempers were beginning to fray. Though Viola remained quiet in the corner, she did not miss how some of Abel’s friends often turned, giving her sideways glances without hiding their unease. She tried hard not to care.

She and Jianyu, along with Theo, Cela, and to some extent, Abel, had