The Serpent's Curse by Lisa Maxwell (literature books to read txt) 📗

have ended him. You stopped her then. Why should I trust you now? Why should I risk everything I am—everything the old magic could ever be—when you’ve allowed weakness to rule your actions again and again?

It wasn’t weakness to save my brother, and it wasn’t weakness to spare Esta the horror of taking a life, Harte argued.

No?

No. This time is different, Harte promised. This time, I will kill him with my own two hands.

You have no chance, Seshat told him, her voice hollow. Maybe before, you could have fought him. Perhaps you could have destroyed him years ago, when you stopped the girl from taking his life. Perhaps then… But now? Look around. Thoth has had far too long to reveal the secrets of the Book to the body that carries him. You should have let me have the girl. I would have ended Thoth and all of the hatred he has inspired before his power could grow. Look at what he has become. Look what your weakness has done.

Harte did look—the entire hall was in an uproar. Those who had been sitting without making any judgment were now on their feet with the rest. Confusion swirled in the air, and stirring it was fear and hatred so thick that Harte could practically taste it, bitter on his tongue.

“So you’re giving up?” he demanded. “You would let Thoth win?”

Seshat was silent, and Harte had the sense that she was waiting for something. But he couldn’t understand her hesitation, not now when the danger—and the opportunity—were so clear.

Jack ignored the noise of the crowd and stepped to the microphone, dragging Esta along with him. His hand still locked around her wrist, he shouted, “As above!”

There were those in the crowd who answered, “So below!”

He shouted the phrase again and again, and each time he did so, Harte felt the cold energy swirl. Each time, more of the crowd answered back, until the discontent and confusion joined into a unified whole. “So below,” the crowd responded. “So below.”

“You need not fear feral magic,” Jack thundered when he finally had most of the crowd on his side. “Not here in this place. Not when I stand before you.” Esta was still struggling to get free, but Jack jerked her toward him and then took her by the chin with his free hand. “Do you recognize this woman?”

The crowd rustled and rumbled, until a cry split the steady noise. “The Thief! He has the Devil’s Thief!”

“Impossible!” came shouts from delegates around the room.

“Not impossible,” Jack crooned into the microphone. “Not when feral magic runs in her veins. Look at her! She appears to be nothing more than a girl, but many of you remember too well the terror she once inspired in the dark days before the Brotherhoods were united—before I worked to unite them. Look at her!” he shouted again, and Harte could hear the mania in his voice. “Look at how her face remains ageless. Unnatural. It is a mark against the very laws of nature and the known universe.”

The crowd roared again. Jack had brought more of them under his thrall. With the cold energy radiating through the arena, its icy tendrils cutting through the sultry air, Harte wondered if Jack had actually put them under some spell. All around him, the medallions that had been distributed by the Brotherhoods were glowing a cold bright blue. Harte pulled the pair of medallions out of his own pocket and saw that they were also aglow, their eerie light caught like lightning in the palm of his hand.

On the stage, Jack had released Esta’s throat so he could raise his hand to quiet the crowd. “But this abomination is not the only danger here tonight,” he murmured. “There are others among us, others who refused the protection the Brotherhoods offered today. They pretend to be with us, pretend to have the care of our great nation in their hearts, but in truth they are enemies.” Jack paused, his mouth curving with delight as the crowd began turning and searching for the traitors in their midst.

Then suddenly cold energy crackled around Harte, and all sound drained from the room. It was like being caught in time with Esta, only no one was frozen. All around him, the people rioted, but Harte could hear only a single voice that carried to him over the silence.

“I know you’re here, Darrigan,” Jack said, his voice amplified without the help of any electronic augmentation. “You can end all of this if you’d only come forward.”

All around Harte, people pointed and faces contorted with suspicion as men and women searched for those without the Brotherhoods’ medallions. They called them out and began to pull them from their seats.

“Give yourself up,” Jack said as he scanned the room from the safety of the stage. “Do you know how simple it would be for me to kill her right now? I could twist her delicate neck as easily as a bird’s.” His hand moved back to Esta’s throat, but he didn’t yet squeeze. “Maybe that’s too easy, though. After all this time, I deserve more for my effort, don’t you think?”

Harte’s vision flickered then, and the sky began to fall through the opening in the ceiling. Stars tumbled into the arena, filling the entire space and transforming the world around Harte into a desert night. Suddenly Jack was a different man, one with his head shaved clean and his broad shoulders draped with white linen.

Seshat raged at the sight of Thoth, but Harte now sensed something more than fury—he felt her fear as well. She wanted to destroy Thoth, but she was afraid of him too. Harte realized then that it wasn’t any spell of Jack’s that was holding him in place. It was Seshat’s doing.

She was terrified, and hers was a fear thick and cold enough to make Harte shudder.

As quickly as the vision appeared, the desert drained away, leaving simply Jack on the stage. “It will be such a