Keria Morning hadn’t survived all these years as an enemy of the Archivist by giving up, giving in.

The Codex that Morgan carried must have changed, because she quickly drew it out and opened it. Then she frowned.

“Is it from my father?” Jess asked.

“No,” she said, and went to the Obscurist. She showed her the entry. “It’s from Gregory, to you.”

The Obscurist read the message, closed the book, and nodded. “We’re out of time,” she told him. “The Archivist’s guards have entered the Tower. Gregory let them in, and I’m being ordered to surrender you all immediately. You must Translate to London. Now.”

“My father’s not sent back a reply yet,” Jess said. “Until we know it’s safe—”

“It won’t be safe here,” she interrupted him. “They’re coming. Now.”

Silence settled in with grim weight, and Santi said, “Then we go.” It sounded like a death sentence. Jess swallowed hard.

Thomas silently took Glain’s pack and added it to his own. She didn’t say she was grateful, but Jess could see she was. Her leg was still painful and no doubt would slow her down in a running battle, but she bore the pain stoically. He expected nothing less. Glain would always do her best, until her best wasn’t good enough.

Jess found himself missing Dario; the Spaniard’s sharp humor would have been a nice addition just now. Khalila was steady and calm and as cheerful as she could be, but there was no doubt she understood this was a one-way step into total darkness. What they’d find on the other side . . . none of them truly knew. Jess certainly didn’t.

The Obscurist stopped at the iron door and said, “Morgan. I can do one last service for you, at least.”

Morgan flinched as Keria reached out and brushed her fingertips in a line across the gold collar circling her throat.

It unlocked with a sudden, dry snap.

Morgan gasped and reached up to pull it off. Once she had, she stared at it as if she had no conception of what it was, until suddenly she let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. The skin beneath was pale and moist. She didn’t seem to know what to say, but finally she whispered, “Thank you.”

Wolfe’s mother nodded. She seemed very calm. Very . . . resigned. “They would be able to track you through it if you’d kept it on. Morgan, I’ll leave it to you to remove any tracking scripts that they try to link to the Library bracelets the others wear. It might help to leave them on for now. People hesitate to kill librarians.” She hesitated and closed her eyes. “I’ve failed you in many things, Christopher. I won’t fail you in this. You must trust me now.”

It was a leap Jess thought might be impossible for Wolfe, but he stared at her for a long moment and then crossed to her. He took her hand in his. “I do,” he said.