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“He’s going to say no,” she told him.
“Maybe not,” he said, but he didn’t sound convincing even to himself.
“He is.” She sounded certain. “And when he says no, you’re not going to do anything.”
Harte’s brows drew together. “You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“You know what that might mean, Esta.” He had to clench his jaw from saying more, from begging her to reconsider. But she was right. If he forced Dakari—if he coerced the one person who had always loved her—it would always be between them.
“When he refuses, we’re going to let him go,” she told him. “You’re not going to use your affinity to take away his free will.”
“Even if it means the entry in the diary might come to pass?” he asked.
“You would never hurt me, Harte.” She was pressing her lips together, and he could tell she was fighting back tears. “I will take every single second I have with you. But I won’t steal any more than I deserve.” She kissed him softly. “I love you too much to do that to either of us.”
She released time before he could react and before he could respond. The city was humming around them again, but the world had narrowed down to Esta. Her whiskey-colored eyes drinking him in, her hands warm and sure in his.
“I know,” he told her.
“What?” Dakari frowned for a second, confused. But then his expression cleared. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Harte asked, hope shooting through him.
“I can’t promise things are going to work out like you want, but I’m willing to try,” Dakari told them, looking down at the pocketknives. “I don’t have any other way to explain this. And I think my father would have wanted me to try. He always did say my traveling here was for a reason. Maybe this is it.”
“Thank you,” Esta said softly, her eyes shining with tears.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not anywhere near done.” He looked to Harte. “So, how do we do this?”
Harte held out his hand. “It’s simple.”
Dakari hesitated for a second, but then he took Harte’s outstretched hand, and the second their skin connected, Harte focused on his affinity and sent everything through the bond between them. Dakari’s eyes widened as though he sensed the intrusion, but then a calm, dazed expression fell over him.
“Don’t forget—” Esta started, but Harte shook his head to shush her. He had one chance to get this right. He needed to concentrate on what he was trying to do.
The change happened almost immediately. It was as though they could feel the echo of something shattering in the atmosphere. Just like when they’d crossed back into the city, the air seemed to shift, and then the sirens began. Harte thought of the trace they’d been marked with, but he didn’t allow himself to panic. There was more he needed to give Dakari. Unspoken instructions that might mean the difference between defeating Nibsy or the fate in that diary. He wasn’t finished yet.…
“Hurry,” she told Harte.
He shook his head slightly, as if to say, Not yet, but the sirens were getting louder, closer.
They were out of time.
TOO LATE
1902—St. Paul’s Chapel
Jianyu coughed as the smoke from the strange flames clawed at his throat. Because of the opium in the air, he had all but lost his hold on the light. He had found Jack and followed him to the front of the church, where Viola was struggling to hold back the bride. Theo Barclay was there as well, struggling against one of the creatures formed from the strange, unnatural smoke. Even as Viola tried to keep the girl from danger, she had her knife raised and aimed for Jack Grew. But behind Jack loomed another of the monsters.
Viola’s eyes went a little wide at Jianyu’s request, and at first she did not relinquish her blade.
“Now, Viola!” he insisted. “With your blade, I can free him. Allow me to try.”
She never turned away from Jack or the creature, but tucking her knife behind her back, she relinquished her dagger into Jianyu’s hands.
“Please, Jack,” the bride pleaded, her voice ragged with fear. “Theo’s done nothing—”
