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

you. But make no mistake… I plan on taking your affinity either way. Fight me now, and I will destroy you and all that you hold dear.”

“You expect me to trust you?” Esta asked, considering her options. His offer might have been more tempting if he hadn’t also just revealed something important: She and Harte had assumed Seshat was the power within the Book, but Thoth’s words confirmed that Seshat had succeeded in placing a piece of pure magic in those pages. If she and Harte could harness it, there was no telling what they might be able to do, all the people they might be able to save.

It felt more important than ever to get the Book. And to get it here and now, before Thoth could get away.

“Trust or not, it matters little,” Thoth said. “One way or another, your affinity will belong to me, and so will Seshat’s. I will no longer be beholden to the tedium of time. My power will truly be limitless.”

“But not really,” Esta told him. “There’s only so much you can do without a body. After all, you needed Jack to get this far. Such a glorious specimen of manhood you’ve selected to do your bidding.”

Jack’s face twisted. “His weakness served my purposes, but soon I will be beyond the need for anything so pedestrian as a body.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But there’s one thing you forgot when you hitched your entire plan for world domination to Jack Grew.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Thoth sneered.

“The funny thing about bodies—especially male bodies—” Esta brought her knee up sharp, right between Jack’s legs, and ancient demigod or not, Jack crumpled at the impact. “They have a certain weakness.”

She didn’t stay to gloat. Snatching the Book from where it hovered in midair, and with time still pulled around her, she started to run, but she’d barely reached the opening of the tent when her vision flickered.

No. This can’t be happening. Not now.

But as she moved, she felt time turning on her. The present moment was there, and then it wasn’t, as the world around her flashed, cycling through the layers of time. Past. Present. And future. All at once. All terribly imminent. She felt herself start to fade, felt the Book fall through her fingers. She grabbed for it again, but it was like she was nothing but a shade, grasping for the reality she was no longer a part of.

PROMISES KEPT

1904—San Francisco

Harte Darrigan had once made a vow to himself that he would never again be tainted by the muck and filth of the streets. He’d spent too many nights curled in doorways with newspapers for warmth, fighting off rats and men alike. Now, though, standing across from the same door he’d approached when he’d first arrived in California, he felt so exhausted and worn down that he could have happily sunk right into whatever the slippery substance was under his feet. But he had the feeling that if he gave in to that longing to rest, he might never get up again.

He hadn’t truly realized how weak he’d become until he’d made the decision to move. It still seemed incredible that he’d managed to get out of the hovel the Committee had kept him in at all. It was another mark of how bad he must have looked—they hadn’t bothered really guarding him. As Harte freed himself and began navigating the streets of San Francisco, he realized that he was in serious trouble. With each new bout of feverish shivering, the mantle of dread he wore felt heavier.

He understood that he would not be able to make it back to the bridge, as he’d promised. He knew that he would never see Esta again, but Harte was determined to make right his biggest mistake. He would retrieve her cuff and return it to her—he would try.

What had he ever been thinking to take it from her in the first place?

He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been desperate. Harte saw now that he hadn’t been brave enough to stay after what had happened in St. Louis. He’d been too afraid that Esta would turn away from him, disgusted by what lived inside his skin. He’d been a fool, and now it was too late.

Harte could only hope that Samuel Lowe hadn’t had a chance to sell Ishtar’s Key yet. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to make it to their meeting at the bridge, but if the cuff was still somewhere in his father’s home, Harte would find it. He could send it to Cela Johnson. Cela could leave the city. She could find Esta and explain. Harte had already asked far too much of the seamstress, but he would ask her for this one last thing as well. He would do everything he could to make sure that Esta knew he hadn’t betrayed her on purpose.

Harte leaned against the damp brick of the building and watched the door across the alley for what felt like ages, until night fell over the city and lights glowed from within the windows around him. But no lights came on in his father’s house. It remained dark and quiet, with no sign of anyone inside.

It was possible that the woman and the boy had left. Harte knew that his father wouldn’t return. He’d made sure of it when he’d used the last of his strength to push his affinity into the men who’d wrestled him to the ground outside the bank. He could have used the opportunity to escape, but instead, he’d chosen to make the men believe they’d seen proof of his father’s treachery. He’d ordered them to put Samuel Lowe on the first merchant ship they could find. It was the most he could do for the boy—one last trick to make the monster in Sammie’s life disappear for good. He hoped it would be enough to give the kid a chance at a real future, a chance Harte had never had.

He closed