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He pretended to consider her request. “No,” he said after a thoughtful beat. “I don’t think I will.”
Jianyu cried out again, his face contorting in agony. He’d gone nearly white with the pain of what was happening to him.
Harte’s expression turned murderous, but he didn’t move. He didn’t dare to with Nibsy’s gun still aimed at his chest.
“You don’t really want them.” Esta lifted the strap of the satchel over her head. “You want this.”
Nibsy stilled, and even without her affinity, time felt like it were standing still. “You brought it? Just as I always knew you would.”
She nodded. “The Book and the artifacts, too. But you need me to work the ritual. I’m willing to make a bargain. You let those two go, and it’s yours. Take me instead of them.”
Harte’s expression turned to horror. “No, Esta. Don’t—”
“Hush,” Nibsy said, easing back the hammer of the pistol. “I’ve heard about enough from you.”
She didn’t look at Harte. She couldn’t risk it, not so long as Nibsy held the gun that could end his life. “If you hurt him—”
“You’ll what?” Nibsy said. “You aren’t in the position to be making any demands.”
She took Viola’s knife and placed it at her own throat. “Aren’t I?”
Nibsy considered her offering, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. She knew he didn’t trust her or believe her, but he didn’t have to. He just had to take his attention off Harte long enough so they could get away.
“You can have one,” Nibsy said finally. “And I’ll see the contents first.”
Esta pretended to consider this offer and then, slowly, she lowered the knife.
“Fine.” She allowed herself a quick glance at Harte, who was still shaking his head, trying to deny the bargain she seemed to have struck. Even through his half-drunken stupor, she hoped that he already understood what she intended to do. “I’ll take Jianyu.”
“Interesting choice.” Nibsy’s mouth twitched with amusement.
Jianyu screamed, his body twisting in pain.
“I’ll take Jianyu alive and whole,” she said. “If you hurt him or kill him, the deal is off.”
“Show me what’s in the satchel,” Nibsy demanded. “Open it.”
Esta saw the doubt in his expression, but there was hope as well. Yearning. She moved slowly, carefully unlatching one buckle and then the other. She looked at Harte once more. Willed him to understand.
“No, Esta—”
But she was already moving. With a violent twist, she swung the bag toward Nibsy’s face. He reacted on instinct, reaching for it and taking his attention off Harte just long enough to give them a chance.
In that fraction of a second, Harte lunged. One shot went off, but it flew wide, shattering a window without hitting anyone. Before Nibsy could fire again, Harte was on top of him, pinning him to the floor and trying to wrestle the pistol from Nibsy’s grasp.
Esta went to Jianyu. His wrist was bleeding, and his hand was already coated in his own blood. It was coming from a black bracelet of some sort cutting into his wrist, and the cold energy coming from it told her that ritual magic was involved. But there wasn’t any way to stop it. She couldn’t figure out how to get it off him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harte punch Nibsy—once, twice—until blood was pouring from his nose, and he only barely tried to get away. The fight seemed to have been beaten out of him, but he was laughing like some kind of lunatic.
“So predictable,” Nibsy said, blood dripping from his nose into his mouth. “Always so predictable.”
Harte tore the gun from Nibsy’s hand and pointed it at his chest. “Am I predictable now?”
“Eminently,” Nibsy said with a leering smile.
Cocking back the hammer, Harte aimed at Nibsy’s chest. “You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve to take even one more breath.”
“You won’t kill me,” Nibsy said, suddenly deadly calm. “You can’t. You need me.”
