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  Perhaps he’d always been this way, but she hadn’t totally noticed until now, which was the first time she’d allowed herself to sit back and simply gawk at him. Well, the first time she took her time with it, anyway.

  He scrubbed the worn material and then held the sodden garment up to inspect it.

  “A bit better,” he said, and Becca learned that her sense of hearing was also much improved.

  “Hard to get blood stains out, isn’t it?” It was Barnabas, emerging from the forest where Becca had previously spotted the small rodent.

  Maddox sent him a glare. “Yes, it certainly is,” he said coldly.

  “What? You’re cross with me? I was trying to feed you.”

  “By tossing a dead warlog at me without warning?”

  Barnabas scoffed. “Oh, please. It’s not as if I asked you to bring it back to life so I could kill it again. I was only excited to provide you with something other than berries and leaves to eat.” Barnabas paused, absently scratching his dark beard while Maddox still stared at him coolly. “The meat’s almost cooked. I promise it tastes almost exactly like rabbit. Come back to the camp when you’re done washing up. I’m tired of listening to Alcander and his incessant chattering all by myself. That scribe loves to talk.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment,” Maddox said, his tone no less cool than the expression on his face. He wrung out his shirt as Barnabas departed, then flapped it in the air to shake off the excess water. “Berries and leaves,” he muttered to himself. “I’m more than capable of finding something better than that out here. I’m not completely helpless.”

  Maddox had turned to face Becca, who found herself mesmerized by the increasingly dreamy view of the shirtless boy before her. It took her a moment to raise her gaze up to his face, but when she did she was just as glad. When dry, his black hair tended to be a bit shaggy, and he wore it pushed forward so it hid part of his face. Now, his damp hair was pushed back, and Becca took a moment to appreciate the warmth of his deep brown eyes, the pale scattering of freckles on his nose, and his lips . . .

  Maddox Corso had very nice lips.

  Suddenly, as if somehow sensing he was being watched, Maddox turned his head and looked up, locking his gaze right on Becca, whose branch was only four feet above him. Her heart jumped in her chest as Maddox cocked his head to the side.

  “Greetings, pretty hawk,” he said. “You know, you remind me of a hawk I saw the other day. Your eyes are the same deep shade of blue . . .” He frowned and shook his head. “But that’s impossible.”

  Maddox, it’s me! Can you see me?

  He ran his hand through his dark wet hair, still frowning up at her for a long moment more. “It’s impossible,” he said, almost sadly. “It couldn’t be you.”

  Look closer. See me. I’m here!

  His frown deepened. He took another step closer to her. “Becca?”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. Yes! It’s me!

  He said nothing for a long, breathless moment, then he put his head down and shook it. “Clearly, I’ve gone insane. Talking to blue-eyed birds. Farewell, pretty hawk.”

  She tried to speak, to squawk, to flap her wings—but she was frozen. She couldn’t do anything but watch as Maddox tore his gaze from hers, gathered up his belongings from the riverbank, and disappeared into the forest.

  Disappointment wrenched through every inch of her. To be so close to him yet not be able to communicate—it broke her heart.

  A rustling in some bushes below caught her attention, and she turned her hawk-eyed stare in that direction. The next moment, a girl emerged. She had long, dark blond hair and wore a dirty blue dress. She stepped closer to the river and kept her careful stare on the path Maddox had taken into the woods.

  In her left hand was a dagger.

  Panic gripped Becca. Once again she tried to flap her wings, to get to Maddox in time to warn him about the girl, but she couldn’t get anything to budge. She was stuck there, forced to watch helplessly as the girl with the dagger disappeared down Maddox’s path.

  Finally, what felt like hours later, the hawk spread its wings and took off into the air, flying across the river and away from Maddox. Becca lurched awake to see Crys standing above her, shaking her.

  “Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty,” her sister said in a voice decidedly devoid of cheer. “The alleged answer to all of our magical woes has finally arrived.”

  Chapter 11

  Crystal

  The first time Crys saw the man, she was making a quick trip downstairs to the convenience store in the condominium lobby, trying to make the most depressing decision in the world, between a wilted-looking cheese sandwich and a truly heinous tray of prepackaged California rolls.

  She noticed him right away. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and mirrored aviator sunglasses. He had a receding hairline and a short salt-and-pepper beard that was neatly trimmed. What little hair he had was the same color as his beard. But it was the bright red bow tie that originally caught her eye.

  Crys watched as the curious man took a large bag of jelly beans off the display and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Suddenly, he looked up, and there was no doubt he saw Crys watching.

  Crap.

  Crys was about to turn away, but then stopped. The man grinned at her, then put his index finger over his lips in a gesture of shh.

  Then, just like that, he turned on his heels and left the store. Crys just stood there, appalled at the way that richly dressed man just stole something without a second thought and then casually sauntered out. She thought about telling someone, but when Crys approached the counter to pay for her sushi, the clerk was talking on her cell phone and didn’t even notice the customer standing right in front of her.

  “Here,” Crys said coldly as she slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter, took her sad lunch, and left.

  As Crys pushed through the exit, she saw Mr. Bow Tie leaning against the wall outside the store.

  “Were you tempted to tattle on me?” he asked in a crisp British accent.

  Reluctantly, Crys stopped and turned to him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “Of course, Crystal, dear. Now why don’t we go up and see your auntie?”

  Crys stared at him. “You’re Angus Balthazar.”

  “At your service,” he said, bowing his head.

  Crys had just watched the man Jackie was counting on shoplift a bag of jelly beans.

  Perfect.

  Just to be sure she wasn’t about to escort a psychopath up into her family’s safe house, Crys asked Angus to show her his ID and house keys. Graciously, he complied and supplied both items—though Crys had to wonder about the validity of an ID that belonged to a thief who most likely had at least a dozen counterfeits on hand.

  “After you,” Angus said as they walked into the building.

  Jackie was at the door when they arrived. She greeted him, grasping his hands. “Angus, you’re here. I’m glad to see you.”

  “Sorry it took me so long, love. I assume you’re enjoying the place?”

  “Very much. Thank you so much for sharing it.”

  “Not that you gave me much choice.” He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them, carelessly, onto the nearest end table. “Why do I get the feeling that you’d have found a way to break in if I said no?”

  “You really think my aunt would be stupid enough to try to break into a place like this?” Crys said with barely a fraction of the jauntiness that seemed to be Angus’s trademark.

  “Let me think about that,” Angus said, scratching his stubbled chin. “Yes, I think she would try something like that. In a heartbeat, actually. Do you know even half of what your dear auntie is capable of, little girl?”

  “Angus . . . ” Jackie said under her breath, a smile frozen on her lips.

  “You don’t want your niece to know, do you?” Angus said teasingly. “I suppose I can see how her young mind might be scandalized to kn
ow that her Aunt Jacqueline is a skilled thief who has long belonged to an international organization of criminals specializing in procuring and reselling unusual objects and artifacts said to possess certain . . . powers.”

  Crys watched Jackie’s face grow pale as Angus spoke, and she looked slightly queasy.

  Crys took that to mean that Angus was telling the truth.

  “Powers?” Crys repeated, trying to show Angus that his little performance hadn’t fazed her.

  “Yes,” Angus said. “And you’d be surprised how many people there are in this world who are willing to pay a great deal of money to get their hands on such items.”

  “Angus,” Jackie snapped. “That’s more than enough.”

  “It’s fine,” Crys said, although her stomach churned to hear Jackie all but confirm everything Angus claimed. She already knew her aunt had a shady side, and recent events gave her imagination a lot to work with in terms of getting a fuller picture of Jackie’s career. But to hear all this—major crimes and dealings with potentially dangerous people—coming from someone like Angus, no less . . . perhaps it did corrupt her a little. “Please,” Crys went on, still working hard to keep a cool, nonchalant exterior. “I already knew some stuff about what Jackie does. Your life sounds like something from a movie, Jackie—a woman leading a life of danger and intrigue and magic. I mean, Dr. Vega already told me about how you stole the Codex from a private library.”

  “Dr. Uriah Vega?” Angus said. His face lit up with a rather predatory grin. “Where is our little Rosetta stone? Has he cracked the code yet?”

  “He’s working on it,” Jackie said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The kind and welcoming expression she wore when she first saw Angus was now a faint memory.

  “He should give up already. Why waste his valuable brain cells on an impossible task? Take me to it. I need to see it.”

  Crys grew tense at the idea of letting this candy-stealer within fifty feet of the Codex.

  “First, I need to fill you in on a few things,” Jackie said.

  “Fill away,” he said, then nodded at Crys. “Perhaps we can speak in private and away from the child.”

  “Child?” Crys glared at him. “I’m not a child.”

  “Are you under twenty-five?”

  “Well . . . yeah.”

  “Then, trust me, you’re still a child.” He flicked his hand at her dismissively. “Why don’t you go watch some reality TV while the grown-ups discuss business.”

  Who did this jerk think he was? “I’m not going anywhere.”

  A shadow crossed over his expression, and Crys swore she saw a something dark and dangerous flash in his eyes. “Oh?” he said quietly.

  “Angus, it’s fine,” Jackie said. “She can stay. She’s part of this, and so is her sister.” Jackie nodded at Crys. “Go get Becca.”

  Crys went, but only after tearing herself away from the staring contest she’d unintentionally initiated with the jelly bean thief.

  She woke a disoriented Becca up from her nap and, noticing the troubled look in her eyes, made a mental note to check in with her as soon as they were done with Angus. They went downstairs to find that Jackie and Angus had gone into the study to talk to Dr. Vega.

  “Oh, goodie,” Angus drawled. “She’s back.”

  Crys granted him a small scowl but then shook it off. She couldn’t let him rattle her—not with Becca here.

  And certainly not while they were all in the same room with the Codex, which was laid out on top of the desk.

  At the sight of it, Becca inhaled sharply.

  “Careful,” Dr. Vega said as he watched her move toward it, as if powered by a remote control.

  Crys grabbed hold of her hand to keep her from getting any closer to it. Bad things happened when Becca was anywhere near that stupid book.

  Angus raised a dark eyebrow at Becca. “You. What’s your name?”

  “Becca,” she replied.

  “This book . . . its magic affects you.”

  “Jackie told you?”

  “No. Just an educated guess.” He gave her a less than genuine smile. “But how absolutely interesting to know I’m right. Now, the enigmatic Markus King needs this mysterious little tome so he can keep on living forever. Julia’s marks have somehow been reinvigorated and are back to binding her to his will. And young Becca here seems to be right in the middle and knee deep in all of this muck. Fascinating.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the word I would use,” Jackie said. “Angus, just tell me. Can you help us? Help Julia?”

  “First of all, your sister should not be anywhere near this thing, Jackie,” Angus warned, rapping his knuckles against the book’s cover. “Right now, even when she’s away from the book, she’s like a stick of dynamite, ready to explode at any second.”

  “That bad, huh?” Julia said.

  Crys swiveled on her heels and found herself facing her mother, standing in the doorway, her face pale and haunted.

  “Mom,” Crys began.

  After the incident with the gun the day before, Julia had locked herself in her bedroom and hadn’t opened the door since, except to take in the plates of food Jackie brought her. Meanwhile, Jackie had locked the gun away in a cabinet in her room.

  Julia shook her head. “It’s okay, Crys. He’s right. I refuse to help that monster, but I don’t know if I can control myself. I’d rather die than hurt any member of my family. The lock on my door secures only from the inside—I can get out whenever I want. Without a way to break this spell, that’s not going to be good enough.”

  “Well, that’s the question,” Crys said, her voice raw. She hated seeing her mother so upset.

  “I’m guessing this is the sister,” Angus said.

  “Yes.” Jackie grimaced. “Angus Balthazar, this is Julia Hatcher.”

  “So pleased to finally meet you in person,” Julia said tightly.

  “Yes, of course you are. I’m the one who might be able to get you out of this gigantic mess. Now—let’s talk possibilities. I prefer the one I’ve already discussed with you over the phone, Jackie.”

  Jackie cringed. “Angus, I don’t think we need to talk about that right—”

  “The dagger Markus King uses to carve this obedience spell into everyone needs to be destroyed,” Angus said calmly and evenly. “And Markus needs to die.”

  Jackie shook her head. “I always forget how horribly blunt you are.”

  “Indeed,” Dr. Vega agreed tightly.

  “That’s not the tone you took when we first hatched our plan. Remember? You said you could assassinate him at the charity ball?”

  “Please, stop talking now,” Jackie said weakly.

  “What?” Becca gasped. “You—you’re going to kill him? How could you agree to something like that?”

  Jackie looked at her bleakly. “I didn’t say I was going to do it. Angus did. It wasn’t my plan.”

  “When was all this discussed?” Julia said. “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yes, of course I was going to.”

  “Julia,” chimed in Angus, his tone infuriatingly lighthearted, “how exactly did you think you’d ever be completely free of those marks? Did you think that, with time and patience and maybe a vigorous scrubbing every other day, they’d simply just go away? Jackie tells me those invisible marks that keep you under Markus King’s command are created by magic. A combination of Markus’s magic and all the power hiding within his dagger. So the solution to your problem should be obvious: Destroy the source of the spell—in this case, that’s both Markus and the blade—and the spell, in turn, is destroyed.”

  “Why not try destroying the dagger first and then seeing what happens?” Becca offered. Angus shot her a mind-your-own-business-little-girl look that was so harsh it made Becca flinch.

  “An excellent idea,” Dr. Vega said.

  “Pacifists,” Angus said with disgust. “Let me tell you a secret, both of you. Some people need to be killed. Their absence allows the rest of the
world to work much better.”

  “I hate this,” Julia said. “I hate all of this. Markus King is pure evil and needs to be stopped. But, Jackie, for you to suggest that you could stop him—kill him—yourself . . . Are you sure?”

  “If she isn’t,” Angus said, “I’m happy to do the deed. Of course, such a high-profile job that requires specific talents does come with a steep price—but I will give you the friends-and-family rate.”

  “You,” Dr. Vega said, his eyes wide behind his wire-rimmed glasses, “are a very scary man.”

  “Thank you,” Angus said dismissively.

  “Markus is dangerous—and magical, which makes him even more so,” Dr. Vega continued. “No one knows how much he might be capable of. I’ve never before heard of a person who has such abilities.”

  “Well, that makes one of us. In fact, word has traveled through the grapevine that Markus is not the only magician in Toronto right now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jackie snapped.

  Angus shrugged. “Could just be a rumor. But it also could be fact. Don’t know. I just pass along information when I see fit.”

  Julia shook her head, while Crys and Becca looked on with disbelief.

  “What kind of magic?” Julia asked. “Elemental, like Markus?”

  “I’m afraid I couldn’t say. All I know is that several of my associates refuse to come within a thousand miles of this city at the moment. They’re calling him the Whisperer.”

  “The Whisperer?” Crys frowned. “What a stupid name.”

  “Yes, well, one could argue that Crys isn’t the smartest-sounding moniker out there.”

  She couldn’t stop herself—she gave him the finger.

  Angus laughed. “I like you.” He winked at her. “You’re sassy.”

  What a complete sleazebag. Another reason not to believe a single word that came out of his mouth.

  “I wonder if Markus knows about this man,” Julia said. “And what it might mean.”

  “It means we’ll get distracted if we focus on it,” Jackie replied. “And right now I don’t care about any rumor that doesn’t directly relate to Markus himself.”