UNTIL THE END
1904—St. Louis
Harte saw Esta coming toward him too late to avoid her. It had been the better part of a day, and as far as he could tell, the power inside of him had settled itself down to a low rumble of discontent, but he didn’t trust it. He’d kept his distance, all while keeping her in sight, because he didn’t trust the Antistasi, either.
There was no doubt that Ruth was charismatic. She believed in the righteousness of what she was doing. But in Harte’s experience, the line between belief and zealotry was often a fragile one, indistinct and prone to crumble when examined too closely. Her idea to give Sundren magic might have been noble had her victims been given any choice in the matter. But Ruth had forced it upon them, had infected them with a power that they neither wanted nor had any ability to control.
He couldn’t quite see how that was much different from what the Sundren did by forcing Mageus to hide their affinities. Both sides were driven by desperation and fear, and they seemed to him two halves of the same coin.
As Esta sat next to him, he made sure to focus on locking down the power and was ready in case it decided to lurch toward the surface. It seemed quiet, but that could be just another of its tricks.
She didn’t speak to him at first. Instead, Esta picked up a rock and lobbed it into the murky water beyond. The sun glinted off the surface, illuminating the ripples as they grew. For a second he could almost imagine that they were in another place, another situation. His whole life, he’d wanted only to be free from the city. But now that he was, he’d been so consumed with everything else, he’d barely had time to breathe.
“It’s bigger than I imagined it would be,” he said softly.
He felt her eyes on him. “The river?”
“All of it.” He turned to her. “I knew it would be big, but I didn’t realize.”
She worried her lip with her teeth as she let out a tired breath. “I know what you mean. Bigger and . . . different than I thought.” She paused, letting their mutual appreciation for the place they’d found themselves in stretch between them. “I’m sorry about flattening you,” she told him. “I was just desperate to find the—”
“It’s fine,” he said, meaning it.
Esta gave him a small nod and turned to look back at the river.
“Ruth asked for our help,” she said, finally breaking the heavy silence between them. “She wants to destroy the Society, and to do that, she needs to make sure they don’t have the necklace.”
Her voice was so hopeful, so determined, but something about it made the power inside of him feel like it was starting to wake again.
“We’re not here to destroy the Society, Esta,” he told her, his voice coming out more clipped than he’d intended because his attention was focused on Seshat, in case the demon decided to make another play for Esta. “We’re here to get the necklace and get out, remember? The rest of this isn’t our fight.”
“Why isn’t it?” she pressed. “We can do something here to help people.”
“Or we could just make everything worse,” he told her. At her agitation, the power seemed to pulse with excitement, swelling and growing. “Look what happened after Ruth attacked that meeting. Look at the people we rescued from the hospital.”
“She gave them their power back,” Esta said, remembering what Ruth had told her. “She helped them.”
“She attacked them. Look at them,” he said, turning her back to face the group of ragged-looking victims from the Antistasi’s attack. Half were still dressed only in what they’d worn in the hospital. “Really look at them. Do any of those people look happy right now?”
She shrugged away from him. “They will be. Aren’t you?”
He laughed. “Happy?” Shaking his head, he tried to figure out how to make her understand. His affinity had driven his father away and destroyed his mother. It gave him power over people, true, but it had also kept him apart. He was always wary, always afraid of getting too close or letting anyone know too much about him. “Nothing about my affinity has made me happy, Esta.”
She frowned at him. “That can’t be true.”
“Let’s just go,” he said. “Please. We still have Julien. He can help us figure out where the necklace is, and then we can get it and get out of this town. We don’t need the Antistasi or their grand schemes.”
Esta gestured to her arm. “Ruth still has Ishtar’s Key, remember? We can’t leave without it.”
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep his frustration in check, so that he could keep the demon inside of him locked away. “She doesn’t exactly have a safe nearby, does she? We’re in the middle of nowhere. How hard could it be to steal it from her and go? We don’t need the rest of this. We don’t need to attack the Society—”
“You would just walk away?” Her expression was unreadable, and when she spoke again, her voice came out as barely a whisper. “Even though they burned the brewery?” She met his eyes. “They could have killed children, Harte. The Guard knew there were children inside, and they didn’t care. They wanted them to die. Because they’re Mageus. Because one less Mageus is fine with the Society and the Guard, no matter how old or young.”
He couldn’t argue with anything she’d said. The fire was nothing short of evil, but the Society was no different from the Order. Now that he was outside the confines of the Brink, it was clearer than ever how pointless it was to think that they would ever defeat them. Crush one roach or one hundred, and there were still a thousand more you never saw, ready to swarm as soon as the lights went out.
Sure, they could help the Antistasi, and then what? The risks were too great, and the good that they might do? He wasn’t sure if it was enough to make up for the damage they could cause in the process. “We can’t,” Harte said finally.
Esta’s expression hardened. “It’s too late to back out now.”
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
She met his gaze and lifted her chin, stubborn as she ever was. “I already volunteered our connection with Julien.”
Harte’s stomach twisted. “You didn’t . . .” They’d done enough to his old friend, mixing him up in this mess to start with.
“You already told Ruth we had a way into the Society,” she pointed out.
“I didn’t give her Julien.”
“I know, but . . .” She let out a sigh, and when she glanced over at him, he could see the regret in her expression, but it wasn’t as bright as the hope. “He could get us in, Harte.”
“And then what?” He felt his temper spiking and the power growing alongside it. “We leave, and Julien has a target on his back. I can’t do that to him.”
“We won’t be doing anything to him. Once the Antistasi release the serum, everything will be different. Think about it, Harte. The ball will be filled with dignitaries—representatives from all the Occult Brotherhoods. Anyone with any power at all will be there,” she explained. “After the Antistasi set off the serum, the people who make the laws won’t be interested in prosecuting magic if they have it themselves. And this year, the ball has a very special guest—one that Ruth is specifically interested in. . . .”
“They’re going to attack the president,” he realized, his stomach twisting.
“It’s a terrible plan, Esta. Can’t you see that?”
The spark of defiance was back in her expression. “It might just work, Harte. People love Roosevelt. Someday they’re going to carve his face into a mountain.”
A mountain? He blinked. “How is that even—” He was getting sidetracked.
But Esta was determined. “No one is going to turn on Roosevelt, even if his affinity is awoken. He could be the solution—”
She’d lost her mind. She was so blinded by the fantasy that she was forgetting the possible cost. “No, Esta. We cannot let this happen.”
“Why not?” she asked. “It’s what Dolph would have wanted. For us to keep fighting. For us to try to actually change things.”
“You don’t know what Dolph wanted,” Harte exclaimed. “I don’t know what he wanted. No one did. He played everything too close to the vest. Look what he did to Leena.”
She was shaking her head. “Maybe I don’t know what all of his plans were, but I owe it to him to try to finish what he started.”
“You’re not Dolph, Esta.”
“I know that,” she snapped. But she was trembling with emotion.
“And you don’t owe him anything,” he said, more gently. “You can choose your own path, a different path.”
“You just want me to run.”
“I want us to survive,” he corrected. “I want you to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not loathe the reflection staring back,” he told her. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a reason your mother hid you from Dolph? I knew your mother. Leena wasn’t okay with some of the things Dolph did. She wouldn’t have hidden you from him otherwise. She must have wanted something more for you than the endless fighting and violence and death that he would have insisted you be part of.”
“He wanted to change things—”
“Dolph might have been my friend once, but he wasn’t the saint you’re making him out to be. He hurt Leena because it was what he thought was best for her. For magic. For everyone. After he took her power, she never completely forgave him. How is what the Antistasi are doing any different?”
She was looking at him with an expression he’d never seen on her before, an expression that worried him, because he didn’t know what it meant.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” he said, more gently now. “Or have you forgotten what we’re supposed to be doing? Nibsy is still out there somewhere, waiting.”
“I know,” she told him, pulling back the sleeve of her shirt.
“What is that?” On her arm were a series of scars that looked like letters. But she pulled away before he could make them out.
“I didn’t have it before. We’re changing things, and I’m well aware that Nibsy’s still out there, waiting. But he’s waiting for me, Harte.”
He hated the sound of pain and worry in her voice, but it wasn’t a good enough reason to do the Antistasi’s bidding. “We need to get out of this town alive. If we do that, we can go back and fix things. We can make it so none of this—the Act, the Antistasi, none of it—ever happened. We can save people that way.”
“And what if we can’t?” she asked, her voice dark. “What if I can’t get us back to 1902? What if I can’t make any of this right?”
“You will—”
“You don’t know that,” she snapped. “And neither do I. I need to do this. In case . . .” But she didn’t finish.
He started to reach for her. “Esta—”
“No, Harte,” she said, standing and taking a step back from him. “I won’t force you to help me, but I won’t let you stop me either. You’re either with me, or I do this alone.”
He let out a tired breath. “You know I’m with you,” he said.
His words seemed to relax something in her. She gave him a small smile and a satisfied nod before she went off to tell Ruth the news. He watched her as she left, her straight back and her arms swinging as she walked. Strong. Confident. So completely herself. “Until the end,” he murmured, but he wasn’t sure who he was speaking to as the wind carried away his words.