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

“It might have been at one time,” she told him. “At some point, there was an earthquake. It might have knocked part of this building down.”

“Maybe…” He frowned, staring up at the building. “I’m sure this is it. I had the Dragon’s Eye in my hands, and I was almost home free.” His expression faltered.

“You did the right thing, Harte.” She wanted to reach for him, but since the day before, he’d been careful to keep a certain amount of distance between them.

“I let it go.” He turned to her, his expression bleak.

“You saved your brother’s life,” she said softly. “But, Harte, even if this is the same building, the crown can’t still be here.”

Harte looked like he wanted to argue, but Esta explained how she’d stolen the Dragon’s Eye from the Chinatown in New York in the 1940s—nearly a decade before.

Harte listened, but she could sense his stubborn determination. “You said that St. Louis was different because of the train derailment we caused, right?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with—”

He shrugged. “Maybe something has already changed the path of the Dragon’s Eye.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Esta admitted, even if she didn’t think it was likely.

“I know you think I’m wrong,” Harte told her. “But the fact is, we don’t really know how this all works, do we?”

“How what works?” Esta asked.

“Time,” he said. “We don’t know how our actions affect the course of history. We’ve seen that they do, but we can’t predict the effect of the things we’ve done—or might still do. Not really. Even trying to undo what happened in St. Louis… We don’t know if it’s actually even possible. You’re just guessing and hoping you’re right.”

“I’m not just guessing,” Esta told him, hating that he was closer to the truth than she wanted to admit.

“I didn’t mean to start an argument.” Harte let out a ragged breath. “But you have to admit… When I came here in 1904, I did something that hadn’t been done before. It’s possible that changed something. It’s possible that the Dragon’s Eye could still be here.”

“It’s been fifty years, Harte.”

“If it’s not here, then we haven’t lost anything but time, and with the Quellant, you can always steal us more of that. But I think we should go in and take a look,” he said, pointing to a sandwich-board sign sitting on the sidewalk that advertised an exhibition within. The offices seemed to be for some kind of historical society that had a museum open to the public.

Esta couldn’t argue that it sounded promising.

“Even if the headpiece isn’t in there, maybe the exhibition inside will have some clue about what happened to it,” Harte said.

“Maybe,” Esta said, still feeling uneasy. But Harte was already moving toward the arched front door, and she didn’t have any choice but to follow.

THE DRAGON’S EYE

1952—San Francisco

Once Harte was inside the building, he realized he’d been bracing himself for an attack. Instead, he was met with nothing but silence in the cool marble lobby. He could see the echo of the bank it had once been, but now the room held a few large displays. The caged bank windows had been replaced by an open counter, where an older man sat. Harte sensed Esta entering behind him. When he turned to her, he was once again surprised by how pretty she looked in the strange clothing of this time, with her hair curling around her face and her lips painted a soft pink that made his mouth go dry. Within him, Seshat pressed at her cage, reminding Harte that he couldn’t slip again, not like he had the day before.

Seshat had been so quiet as Harte recuperated that he’d started to believe she might have given up—maybe she was content with his promise to destroy Thoth and would not insist on using Esta to take her revenge on the world itself. The day before, Harte had woken from a nap and, for a moment, he’d forgotten the danger. All he’d seen was Esta, and he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, from kissing her. But when his lips had touched Esta’s, he’d let his guard down and Seshat had surged and reminded Harte of all that was at stake.

“Welcome,” the man said. “I assume you’re here for the exhibit?” He glanced between the two of them, and then, after taking their admission fees, pointed them in the direction of the rest of the exhibition.

The main displays were on the second floor of the building. They started at the mouth of the staircase, and trailed through a series of small galleries that told the story of San Francisco from the beginning. Large, printed signs described the city’s history, or at least the history that started with Spanish priests establishing missions, through to Mexico’s surrender of the land to the United States. Along the way, various artifacts were spotlighted from above, their glass cases forming a winding path toward the back of the building.

As Harte and Esta went through the archway, they passed a young guard in a dark, ill-fitting suit. Harte sensed Esta tense as they passed him, but she continued on. When they were finally out of the guard’s sight, Esta leaned so close that Harte felt Seshat lurch.

“Did you see the medallion on his lapel?” she whispered.

Harte frowned. He hadn’t noticed, but he trusted Esta’s instincts. “There must be something here they’re trying to protect.”

Together they wandered through the displays, and Harte didn’t have to pretend that he was interested in the artifacts, especially the ones pertaining to the Vigilance Committee. It had apparently been started back in 1851 as a way to fight the lawlessness and corruption in the city. An etching depicted a building with two men hanging from nooses. There was a display with medallions that reminded Harte of the open-eyed ring his father wore, and a model of Lady Justice staring with