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“The convention,” Harte realized. When Esta had tried to destroy Thoth the first time, back in Chicago, he’d infected everyone there—including, apparently, Esta herself.
Suddenly the desert night fell around him. Gone were the Brink and the city. Gone was everything but the circle of power that contained the two ancient beings and Esta’s body. The stones in the artifacts she wore were bright points of light, burning with the power she’d infused them with.
“How delightful that she’s prepared herself for me,” Thoth purred. “With the stones and her magic, I’ll finally be able to grasp the Book’s power for myself.” Thoth circled closer to where Esta floated, caught in the Aether and the magic around her. “The beating heart of magic, here in the palm of my hand. With it I will remake the world anew. An infinite world that bends to my will.”
“That power will never be yours,” Seshat told him, circling closer. “I will tear you from the world, from history and memory together. And there will be no one to remember your name.”
“It’s too late, Seshat.” Thoth laughed softly. “The game is up. The final move has been played, and I’ve waited too long for my victory to wait any longer.”
The shadowy figure looked more corporeal now, as though he’d been gathering strength as he spoke. He began to murmur then, unintelligible syllables to form ancient words, but as his voice rose, Esta’s body arched back again. Harte watched as the scars on her arm opened as though being traced by a blade of light, and power vibrated through the air as her blood began to drip.
Seshat screamed.
“Did you think I hadn’t prepared for every possibility?” Thoth asked. “Thanks to the ritual magic carved into the girl’s arm, her power—and the stones—are mine. And with them, I’ll take yours. And then I’ll take the world.”
“We have to do something,” Viola shouted. “We have to help her!”
“We must hold the boundary,” Jianyu said.
“It won’t matter if the Brink falls,” Viola argued.
She was right. Already, Harte could see the darkness starting to overtake the wall of light, and within that darkness was nothing. With that darkness would come the end of everything.
“If he’s using the stones, it means there’s still connection there,” Dolph shouted. “Use it, Dare.”
Harte understood what Dolph was telling him. “Take this,” Harte shouted, gesturing that Dolph should grab hold of Harte’s glowing orb in his other hand. “Whatever you do, don’t break the barrier. You can’t let any of this get out. Especially not those two.”
As soon as Harte stepped into the circle, Thoth noticed and turned to him immediately. The ancient man’s eyes were voids, deep as coldest midnight.
“You’ve come,” he said, his smile filled with anticipation. “How entertaining.”
“Not for you,” Harte told him. Then he lunged for Esta and pushed all of his affinity into her, just as he had done with the other version of her.
He could feel Thoth’s power tearing at him, but he held on until—there—the last bit of Esta’s affinity, still connected to the power in the stones. Without hesitation, he pushed his magic toward the united stones, just as he had in the subway tunnel weeks before.
It wasn’t enough to stop Thoth. It wasn’t enough to control him. But it was enough to make him stumble, and in that instant, Seshat made her move.
She lunged for Thoth and clawed at his face. Her eyes flashed brilliantly white, and Harte felt the heat of her power swirling around him. Seshat held tight to Thoth’s face, and as her nails dug into his skin, there was a roaring like nothing Harte had yet heard. His ears felt like they would bleed from the sound of it as the shadowy figure began to come undone. All at once, Thoth broke apart, until there was nothing left.
The others were struggling now, Harte could tell. With only the three of them, the boundary was less even, less sure.
“Finish this,” he told Seshat.
But the goddess—now no more than the shadow of a woman—only shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Finish it,” Harte demanded again. “You started this. It’s time to end it.”
“I cannot!” Seshat shouted, her kohl-rimmed eyes wild with fear and regret. “Once, perhaps. Ages ago, I would have given everything. My life for the world’s. I would have finished the ritual. I would have created a space in this world apart from the rest. Of the world and separate from it, where magic could be cut off from the ravages of time. But that was long ago, years before I’d been reduced to a shadow of myself. Centuries before I was trapped as a spirit within the pages of the Book. Now my connection to the old magic is not strong enough. I cannot finish what I began, not alone. It must be the girl.”
“No!” Harte raged. “She’s already given enough.”
“She must give more,” Seshat told him, her eyes wild and bright. “You must help her.”
Harte was shaking his head. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. “You did this,” he accused. “You tricked her into giving up her magic—”
“It was her choice,” Seshat said. “Her choice alone. But she must finish what she started. Help her. Help her finish the ritual.”
“No,” Harte said. He refused to do that again, to listen to lies. “If I compel her, she won’t be willing. I can’t do that again. I won’t kill her. I won’t.”
