The Serpent's Curse by Lisa Maxwell (read an ebook week .TXT) 📕

the man had bent him backward over the railing of the fire escape, holding him by the throat. The structure creaked under the pressure of their combined weight, but Harte couldn’t do much to fight the man off—especially not with the world tilting and his vision blurring.

Inside of him, Seshat had gone strangely, uncomfortably quiet. Harte reached for his affinity, but his body was so weary and weak, and his mind so unsteady from the combination of fever and the battering he’d taken, that he could barely grasp the edges of his magic.

Help me, he pleaded, desperate for air. Do something.

Why should I help you, when you have done nothing but fight me? Even now you plan to use that stone to destroy me, Seshat told him, her voice a hollow whisper.

I wouldn’t—

I know your heart, boy.

Harte’s vision was beginning to go dark around the edges. If they kill me, you die as well.

Seshat rustled at that, clearly amused. You were willing to die to destroy me before, she taunted. Why should this be any different?

Because it was. True, Harte had been willing to give up his life if it meant saving Esta—he still was willing, if it came to that—but to die at the hands of these men? For nothing?

No. Not like this. Harte wanted to live. Even with the fever raging and shaking his limbs, he wanted to see tomorrow. He wanted to take the Book back from Jack and force its pages to give up their secrets. He wanted to find another path—another way. Most of all, he wanted to see Esta again.

Pulling on all of his remaining strength, Harte tried again to break free of the man’s arms.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the man growled. He leaned in close, and Harte could smell the sourness of his breath. “You didn’t really think the Vigilance Committee would allow you to walk away with a treasure as priceless as the Dragon’s Eye?”

“If they didn’t want it stolen,” Harte rasped, writhing and trying to jerk away as he choked out the words, “they… shouldn’t have left… it… unguarded.”

The man only laughed—at Harte’s words and at his unsuccessful attempt to free himself. “Who said it was unguarded? You walked right into our trap, just like we expected you to.”

“Trap?” Harte realized his mistake. It made a sickening sort of sense now—the long conversation his father had with the man at the entrance, the ease with which they gained access to the temple, and the way the crown wasn’t even in a case.

“You really think we’d keep something like that unprotected?” The man laughed again. “It was only on display because we were hoping to catch the Devil’s Thief.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Harte could barely choke out the words, but he refused to let the man know that he and Esta were connected. “But you have the wrong person.”

“You don’t disappoint,” the man said, giving Harte another hard jerk that had his vision swimming. “Not completely, Mr. Darrigan.”

Harte went suddenly still. They knew his name. He doubted that his father would have told them—he wouldn’t have risked it. But still, they knew who he was. They’d been expecting him.

“Secretary Grew should be just as happy with you when he arrives.”

Secretary Grew? There was only one person that could be.

Within his skin, Harte felt Seshat shudder. Still, he could not grasp his affinity. He was too exhausted, too feverish, and too unsteady to pull his magic around him. He needed help, and there was only one place he could turn.

Help me, he pleaded again.

He could sense Seshat there, watching and waiting. But she did not reply.

Harte understood that she was toying with him. You heard him. Once Jack arrives, we’ll be his prisoners. You know I won’t be able to fight him. I won’t be able to stop Thoth from taking your power. Not as weak as I am.

Seshat remained silent as Harte continued to writhe against his captor’s grip.

Thoth will finally have his victory, Harte told Seshat as he struggled to focus on his affinity, but again his magic slipped through his fingers. He will take your power and use it for his own. He will destroy you.

Isn’t that what you would do as well? Seshat asked. What makes you any different?

Harte couldn’t disagree, and he knew there wasn’t a lie he could tell that Seshat wouldn’t see right through, not when she lived inside his skin. Not when she knew his every whim and desire. Because I don’t want it for myself. Help me, he pleaded. For Esta.

The girl. She is the only way. With her, I can unmake the world and destroy Thoth once and for all. Seshat’s voice came to him then, clear and close to the surface. Will you promise not to stand in my way?

You know I won’t promise you that, Harte told her. I will do anything to keep you from harming her. You know that. But help me now, and together we can destroy Thoth. Help me now, and I swear to you, I will do anything in my power to make him pay.

Harte felt the skin of the man’s palms against his tender neck. Everything ached. Every particle in his being hurt, but he didn’t care. He focused everything he was on gathering his affinity… only to feel it slip away. Water between his fingers. Again.

Seshat remained silent. Distant.

Harte felt as though he were drowning and Seshat was standing on the shore, close enough to help but refusing to touch even a toe to the water. His vision was already starting to go dark at the edges, and his lungs were burning, and he knew—knew—that he had failed.

Harte knew that when Jack arrived, there would be no way to stop him from finally claiming Seshat. Thoth would have everything he’d ever wanted—all of the power he’d schemed and lied and betrayed for. Thoth would win, and the world would be remade under his control.

Suddenly Harte felt the goddess lurch, rousing herself unexpectedly. Her power rose