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Sometime later, the door of his cell opened and a group of people entered. Two men held him down, even though he didn’t have the strength to move, as an older man entered.
“See what you can do to keep him alive,” a voice said. “Secretary Grew arrives in two days. He only has to last until then.”
The older man took the order in silence. Moving forward, he pressed at the underside of Harte’s wrists, moving his fingers and varying the pressure as though palpitating to sense something beneath his skin. The man’s hands were gloved, like the hands of those who had fed him, but Harte was too weak to reach for his affinity anyway. And after what had happened on the fire escape, he didn’t trust Seshat to help.
A moment later the others were cutting away Harte’s shirt. It was stiff from the broth, and as they pulled it off, it felt like they were peeling away his skin as well.
Harte barely cared about the pain. Jack Grew was coming—soon—and with him Thoth. At that thought, Seshat lurched inside of Harte. He could feel her anger and panic and, again, her fear. It reminded him, suddenly, of a desert night beneath a star-swept sky that Seshat had shown him once. He’d felt the fear that had coursed through her when she’d realized what Thoth’s intentions were. He felt that same fear, that same desperation now.
The man began to mark Harte’s body with a brush dipped in dark ink. He drew strange figures at various points: his wrists, his breastbone, down the center of his abdomen. The man’s expression was serious as he worked, and Seshat remained quiet, almost thoughtful, as Harte tried to struggle away from the hold the two younger men had on him, but he was too weak.
The doctor ignored Harte’s protests and concentrated instead on positioning small clear crystals over the various inked figures. When the last was in place, Harte felt a sharp jolt, a burst of cold energy that coursed through his body, followed by a dull throbbing that wasn’t exactly painful even if it wasn’t pleasant.
He felt Seshat pacing, felt her interest in what was happening to him. But she remained silent.
Finally, the doctor seemed satisfied. “He should last for a few days more now.”
The other men seemed relieved.
As the older man retrieved his crystals and wiped the ink from Harte’s skin, the dull throbbing eased, and in its absence, Harte thought that perhaps he felt a tiny bit better. His leg still throbbed with pain, but he was no longer shivering quite as much from the fever.
Harte remained perfectly still, completely docile as the men left, locking the cell behind them. He knew as soon as they were gone that he had to get out of there. Even if he had plague, even if he couldn’t make it to Esta, he could not lie there and wait for Jack Grew—or Thoth—to take Seshat’s power for their own. He wasn’t cured, not completely, but he could move now. He could try. He would do what he could to give Esta the weapons she needed in the fight that lay ahead, even if he didn’t live to see her victory.
Harte’s body still ached, and his skin felt like it was on fire. He still felt so weak, but he would not simply allow himself to wait around for Jack Grew and the creature that lived inside of him. Once the men left him, Harte pulled himself upright. His head still spun, but deep within his skin, he felt Seshat urging him on. He ignored her anticipation as he started working at the lock of his cuffs.
TIME AND ITS OPPOSITE
1904—Denver
Before Esta had time to react to the fact that Jack Grew was not constrained by her affinity, he’d already plucked the Book from her hand. The world remained silent and still around her, but somehow Jack wasn’t stuck in the hold of time as he should have been. Instinctively, Esta wrenched her arm around to break Jack’s hold, but his fingers were unbelievably strong as they dug deeper into her skin. He gave a violent jerk of her arm, pulling her closer. His eyes were wild with anger, and Esta knew that it wasn’t only Jack looking at her. There was something far more ancient there, lurking in the darkness of his expanding pupils.
“Thoth,” Esta whispered.
Jack’s mouth curved into what might have been a smile, but his eyes were so dead and vacant that it looked more like something was manipulating him from within. “Yes?” said the thing inside of Jack.
It wasn’t Jack’s voice that came from his mouth. It was that same otherworldly voice Esta had heard in the Festival Hall when Jack had Harte pinned to the ground and was trying to tear Seshat’s power out of him.
“Let me go,” Esta growled, trying to rip herself away from his grip and again failing.
“Did you think I wouldn’t protect what is mine?” Thoth asked.
“The Book doesn’t belong to you,” Esta spat. “You stole it, just like you stole every bit of power you’ve ever pretended to have.” She lifted her shoulder as she twisted, and this time it was enough of a distraction for her to wrench away.
The world remained frozen, held in the net of time and magic, but Jack was still free.
“That is a rather odd accusation coming from a thief,” Jack mocked. When Esta didn’t respond to his taunting, he began to circle slowly around her. “Isn’t that what you are, Miss Filosik? A common criminal who pretends to be something more.”
She wouldn’t let his words distract her from her purpose—as long as the Book was within reach, it could still be hers. If she only knew where he was hiding the dagger…
“I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not,” Esta said, matching Jack step for step as he continued to circle her.
“But you do,” he whispered, pausing as he considered her. “I’ve seen what you are, girl. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever been and everything you will never be. You may pretend to be some kind of savior, but in truth, you are nothing. An abomination.” Jack moved then, faster than Esta had expected, and grabbed her arm. With a finger that felt like ice, he traced the word carved into her wrist, like he understood what it implied. “You are an impossibility, Esta Filosik. You believe that your life is your own, but you live on borrowed minutes. Soon time will take what it’s owed. Time always takes what it is owed. Like a devouring serpent, it will claim you for its own, and you will not even be a memory. But I could save you from the jaws of time and help you become something more. You only need to give me what I want. Give me the key to controlling Seshat.”
Esta ripped her hand away from him then, but she knew it was only because he allowed it. “Never.”
“I see you, girl, even if you refuse to see yourself.” Jack tilted his head, his lips pulling up as the two of them circled each other. “We’re not so different, you and I.”
“I am nothing like you,” Esta told him.
