A Book of Spirits and Thieves (26 page)

You are so easy to manipulate, Crystal Hatcher.

“I have to admit something,” he said. “And this might change things between us.”

She hesitated, then answered softly. “What?”

“When I said I wanted to be platonic friends with you . . .”

“Yes?”

“That was actually a pretty shameless lie. There’s something about you, Crys. You’re so different from the others girls I meet. You . . . you
do
something to me. Of course, I want you to want to be my friend, but I don’t think I want you to be my
platonic
friend.”

Cue the blonde melting into a romantic puddle in three, two, one. . . .

“Farrell . . . you’re different from any guy I’ve ever known, too.” She slid her hand against his, her fingernails lightly tracing his skin. A shiver went through him. The unpleasant scent of their dinner faded away, leaving only the sweetness of strawberries.

The din of the restaurant grew fainter as their body language officially entered into the realm of public displays of affection. He allowed her to trace her fingers up his arm and watched as she bit her lush bottom lip. And now his own heartbeat was speeding up.

He wanted her.

One night with her would likely get her out of his system, after she’d given him—and thus Markus, too—every last piece of information about this magic book. Then he was sure he’d be fine never seeing her again.

Those fingers were doing things to his arm that made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. And those lips . . . he wanted to explore them for hours.

“I saw you yesterday,” she said, her voice smoky and throaty.

“Yeah? Where?”

“Bay and Bloor. You were in your limo, stopped at a light, and you lowered your window.” She continued to caress him, driving
him slowly mad with desire. “So strange, though. I could have sworn you were in there with the guy who mugged me.”

He stopped breathing.

Then he swore inwardly. In a city this large, and with his ultratinted windows, he never would have expected her to randomly spot him out with Lucas. Mustering all the composure he could, he gave a lighthearted little laugh. “That’s crazy. You must have been seeing things.”

“That’s possible,” she allowed. “Or maybe I
did
see you two together. Is he in the Hawkspear Society, too? Is that how you know each other?”

He didn’t pull his hand back from hers. He didn’t give her any clue that she’d just blindsided him. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. The . . .
what
society?”

“It’s funny, everything I’ve learned over the last week. So much of it makes my head spin. But some facts . . . they’re as clear as day. I can’t ignore them even if I wanted to.”

“Wish I could say what you’re talking about was as clear as day to me.”

“Apparently, everyone in the society has a mark to show they’re committed to the leader’s cause.” She traced a slow circle on his forearm. “Right here. I’ve been told that, after you receive it, the spot is tender for a long time.”

She clamped her hand down and squeezed, hard.

Pain tore through his arm. He clenched his teeth and tried not to react to it.

“Oops. Did that hurt?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he managed.

“Right.” Crys smiled. It was, hands down, the most unpleasant smile he’d ever received. “I’m not stupid, Farrell. Everything you’ve
said, it’s all been lies to get closer to me, so I’ll give up something you need. Otherwise, you wouldn’t give the smallest damn about getting to know someone like me. Markus told you to do this, right? Find out Crys Hatcher’s secrets and report back?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He finally withdrew his arm from her grasp and fixed a steady smirk on his face. There was no sense in trying to deny this. She knew the truth. “Don’t lie. You were all over me—all over the
idea
of me. But, yeah, you’re right. I’m way out of your league. Sorry to disappoint you.”

She winced, a very small one, but he caught it.

“Thanks for clearing that up,” she said tightly.

“My pleasure.”

“Can you do me a couple of favors, Farrell?” she asked.

“Depends what they are.”

“Tell Markus that if he’s going to send spies after me, he should send smarter ones.”

Charming.
“I’ll think about it. And the second favor?”

Crys stood up, took a final sip from her glass of ice water, and then poured the rest onto his lap. “Go to hell.”

She left him sitting there, his pants soaked and his cover blown. In another life, he would have found this absolutely hilarious.

Tonight, he didn’t. His mind darkened at the edges, his thoughts becoming sharp as knives, as he watched her walk past the window, heading back to her little bookshop.

Chapter 23

MADDOX

T
his book—the book that belonged to an immortal sorceress—was the same book that had sent Becca’s spirit here from her world.

“But how could it be
here
?” he asked her under his breath. “If it’s already, um,
there
? It can’t be in two places at the same time.”

Becca drew closer to it, looking past Camilla’s shoulder as the witch flipped through the pages of strange gold and black writing and detailed illustrations of animals, trees, flowers, and landscapes.

“I’m sure of it,” Becca said. “Unless this is an identical copy.” Doubt began to cloud her expression.

“Camilla, is there more than one book like this?” he asked.

“I highly doubt it, but I suppose . . . there is a slight chance a forgery could have been made, to throw off any potential thieves.” She shook her head. “But this is the original. I swear, I feel the hum of its magic, like I’m pressing my hands against a beehive.”

But it did sound as if there could possibly be a duplicate somewhere. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what Becca had experienced.

“Look, here’s a rendering of the stone wheel.” Camilla ran a
long, sharp fingernail over an extremely accurate illustration of the wheel in her garden.

“The language . . .” Becca studied the book warily as if it might jump up and bite her. “Can you read it?”

“No.” Maddox peered down at the strange words. “What language is this, Camilla? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s the language of the immortals, of course.”

Well, of course.

Barnabas had stayed surprisingly quiet, watching Maddox and the witch, his arms crossed. “Quite a day,” he said. “We’re alive, we’re free, and we finally have the means to destroy Valoria once and for all. I suggest we celebrate.”

“I don’t know,” Maddox said. “We’ve been traveling on foot for days. I, for one, am incredibly tired and—”

“Now, don’t you go and spoil the fun.” Camilla slapped his shoulder lightly. “I side with Barnabas on this. To the tavern we go!”

The tavern was called the Battering Ram and was filled to the rafters with villagers, drinking and socializing. The excuse for this particular gathering was meant to be a continuation of the festival celebrating Valoria’s reign, but in these revelers’ hearts it was anything but. Valoria had recently made a decree that would ban the selling of inebriants and outlaw public drunkenness within the year.

“Here you go.” Barnabas slid a gigantic tankard of ale along the table toward Maddox, where he sat at the long wooden bench they’d managed to wedge themselves into, shoulder-to-shoulder with the other patrons. Two women and a man were at the other end of the table, on top of it, dancing to the loud band that played a familiar song about immortals and magic.

Maddox knew the words to this song very well. His mother used to sing it often.

We’ll live forever, side by side

We’ll stay together, ’neath starry skies

Tonight and always, destiny guides us

Tonight and always, magic binds us

Maddox took a sip of ale—his first. Livius had rarely ever drunk anything stronger than cider, and he’d never allowed Maddox to touch a drop.

“You like?” Camilla asked, grinning lasciviously, showing off her broken teeth.

“It’s good,” he had to admit.

“Drink up, sweetie,” she said as she tipped back her own mug of frothy ale, finishing it in one go. Then she let out a giant and rather impressive belch.

A cry came from across the room. “I recognize that sound!” called out a woman who swiftly approached their group, golden-haired and lovely from head to toe.

“My darling sister!” Camilla rose to her feet and held out her arms. “You’ve returned to me at long last!”

Sister?
Maddox exchanged a surprised glance with Becca.

“You are a sight for sore eyes!” the beautiful woman exclaimed as the two embraced.

Barnabas’s posture had improved from his relaxed slouch to a more dignified and formal display. “Sienna, what an absolute pleasure to see you again.”

Becca leaned toward Maddox. “Is it just me, or is he practically drooling over her?”

“Can you blame him?” Maddox said under his breath as he drank more of his ale. “She’s absolutely stunning.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I guess. If you like that type. But she’s kind of old. She’s got to be at least thirty, right?”

He frowned. He’d never heard any hint of such poison in Becca’s tone before now.

“Maddox, this is my younger sister, Sienna,” Camilla said. “A sister who has neglected to write to me for far too long as she’s traveled to lands far across the sea. I have missed you so much!”

Sienna put her arm around Camilla’s shoulders. “I’m back now and plan to stay indefinitely.”

“More reason for us to celebrate.” Camilla signaled to the barkeep to bring another round.

By his third tankard, Maddox had changed his mind about not wanting to join in on impromptu celebrations in taverns. He now found himself up on the table, dancing with the beautiful Sienna, who clasped his hands and spun him around in circles until he became dizzy. Life was marvelous. And wondrous. And all kinds of sparkly.

“Is this your first time drinking ale?” Sienna asked.

“Oh no. I’ve had it many, many, many times. This is nothing,” he slurred. “It’s simply wonderful that you’ve come back to be with your sister. Are you a witch, too?”

Sienna laughed as she covered his mouth with her hand to keep him from saying anything else. “Not so loud, all right? This place is full of joy tonight, but we never know where Valoria’s guards might be lurking. They don’t react well to those of us who may be touched with magic.”

“
I’m
touched with magic.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “
Very
touched.”

“Are you, now?”

“They call me the witch boy.” As he repeated it, the nickname sounded far more impressive than usual.

She pulled back a little to look at him more closely. “So you’re the one I’ve been hearing about, are you? The boy who can summon spirits.”

“I brought one here with me tonight,” he said, gesturing toward Becca with his mug. Ale splashed over the side of it and hit Barnabas in the face.

“Hey!” Barnabas sputtered, wiping his eye.

Maddox laughed. “Apologies!” Then he shifted his gaze to Becca, who sat on a wooden bench across the tavern, glaring up at him. Her arms were crossed and her expression . . .

Oh dear.

He jumped down from the table. “I’ll be back soon, Sienna.”

“Take your time, sweetling,” she replied with a grin.

She called him
sweetling
!

He made his way through the crowd toward Becca. “You look deeply unhappy,” he told her when he reached her side.

“Do I?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just sitting here, invisible and incorporeal. Waiting. My sister and mother are probably only desperately worried about me, while you’re all here celebrating the fact that you managed to open a locked box. So, no. Not unhappy. Just impatient. With
you
.”

She said
you
so sharply it was as if it were a dagger she’d decided to poke him with.

But instead of making him feel bad, it raised his ire. “I know you’re in a gigantic rush to leave this kingdom you despise so much, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes . . . really. Besides, have you considered for one moment that the thought of saying farewell to you might be painful for me? That having you here as a spirit I can never touch is preferable to me than not having you here at all, even though the thought of kissing you—really
kissing
you, the real, solid you—is all I can think about?”

Her eyes widened. “Maddox . . .”

It was a great relief to have gotten the truth out, but the aftermath made him feel raw and exposed and deeply foolish. “Please forgive my drunken behavior.”

He staggered away from her without another word.

The tavern swirled around him—the laughter, the chatter, the music, and the dancing. Everyone seemed happy and joyous.

Yet Maddox now descended into pure misery.

He liked Becca so much, had gotten so attached to her in such a short time, it felt as if his heart might ignite inside his chest.

And if everything went perfectly, he would soon lose her forever.

When they got back to the cottage, Maddox excused himself so he could rush outside and be sick. When he was done wiping his mouth, he noticed he had an audience.

“Better up than down,” Barnabas said, nodding sympathetically.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“What? I’m here to help you through. It’ll take you a while until you’re able to handle your drink. But it’ll happen.”

Maddox pressed up against the stone exterior of Camilla’s cottage, then slid down to the ground and rested his head in his hands.

“Oh my,” Barnabas said. “You’re in terrible shape, aren’t you?”

“The worst.”

“It’s not just the ale. It’s the girl, too. Am I correct?”

Maddox rubbed his eyes. “Have you ever been in love, Barnabas?”

Barnabas paused, as if in solemn thought. “Is that what this is with the spirit girl?”

“I don’t know what it is. I’m just asking you a question.”

That pained shadow he’d seen yesterday crossed Barnabas’s expression again.

“Yes, I’ve been in love. I know how it feels. That all-consuming sensation like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. The terrifying knowledge that you would live and die for this girl, if only she’d give you the chance.”

“Who was she, this girl you loved?”

Barnabas turned his faraway gaze to Maddox and finally smiled again. “We should get you back inside, my young friend. There’s a warm cot with your name on it in the back room. You can sleep this off.”

It seemed Barnabas didn’t want to talk about such private things, which was probably for the best. Maddox knew he’d likely be lying anyway.

“Sleep sounds good,” Maddox agreed.

“It certainly does.”

It was well past dawn when Maddox finally woke. Opening his eyes, he felt as if someone had placed a thousand-pound weight upon his head while he slept.