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.
“That’s the plan.”
“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.