A Book of Spirits and Thieves Read online

  “Don’t you normally?”

  “Sure, but I don’t have to. You know? I’d prefer not to go blind just by walking around in broad daylight if I can help it.”

  Lucas nodded. “Same with me. We’re hypersensitive now. We’ve evolved.” He grinned. “But those quick moments of discomfort are a small price to pay for the chance to see in the dead of night, right?”

  There was no argument there. “Absolutely.”

  “So you feel good?”

  “I feel renewed.” There had to be a better word for it, but it was the best he could come up with. “And I’m stronger. I know I am. It was no effort at all to smash in that scumbag’s face.” As he said it, he realized he didn’t feel even a sliver of remorse about that unplanned violent act. Just the opposite, actually. “I liked it. I liked seeing his blood flow and hearing his nose break. I liked knowing I was the one who’d hurt him. Is that wrong?”

  “Not at all. Bastard got what he deserved, I’d say.”

  Their target paused and moved his black-eyed gaze through the crowd. He made a right at the next intersection to follow a woman who’d broken away from her group of friends.

  “Looks like he’s chosen his date for the evening,” Lucas said under his breath.

  They kept at a healthy distance so they wouldn’t be noticed.

  “Connor used to do this with you?” Farrell asked.

  Lucas nodded. “Only once, but we made a good team.”

  “Did he have any problems with it?”

  “Not that I noticed.”

  Other than the coincidental timing, Farrell hadn’t been able to find any real proof that Connor’s suicide had been related in any way to his induction into the circle.

  So it had to be the girlfriend. Mallory had come to the funeral, her eyes red and puffy. The rest of the family had shunned her, but not Farrell.

  “This is all my fault,” she’d whispered. “I shouldn’t have made things so final with him. I just needed some space to think about everything. But he’d been so cruel to me lately. . . . I don’t know. I thought he wanted to break up.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Farrell managed to reply. “He made the choice. He could have asked for help.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  Farrell pushed the memory out of his mind and drew a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He lit one, his mind drifting now toward his younger brother. “Here’s another question for you. Ever heard of the initiation mark not working properly?”

  “No. Why?”

  Farrell fought to keep his expression neutral. “Just wondering,” he lied. “You never know if someone might be immune to Markus’s magic.”

  Lucas shrugged. “I guess it’s possible.”

  “What would happen to them?”

  “Good question. Maybe he’d try again? It would suck to miss out on the gift of staying healthy for the rest of your life.”

  “Does the mark do anything else other than the health thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Would it keep someone from freaking out over witnessing executions four times a year? he thought, but didn’t say out loud. “I don’t know. Just making conversation. We’d better focus or we’re going to lose him.” The bald man and his potential victim turned the next corner. It took a minute for Farrell and Lucas to catch up, but when they turned onto the next street, all they could see was the woman, fiddling in her purse for her keys. She let herself into a townhome and closed the door behind her, safe and sound.

  “Where did he go?” Farrell asked.

  “Good question. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

  They began to search, passing the woman’s house and peering down alleyways.

  “There he is,” Lucas said, nodding up ahead. A shadow disappeared behind a building lit by a bright streetlamp. He picked up his pace.

  Farrell jogged to keep up with him.

  “What? Can the guy walk through walls?” Farrell asked, frustrated, when they found no one there.

  “The hell? Where did he—?” Then Lucas grunted with pain as he staggered forward, dropping hard to the ground. He’d been struck, hard, right below his kidneys.

  “Are you following me?” the man asked, his voice a low growl. He’d crept up behind them, unseen and unheard. “That’s rude.”

  “We don’t want any trouble.” Farrell raised his hands, trying to appear as if he wasn’t a threat. He wanted to give Lucas enough time to pick himself up and get the syringe ready.

  “Could’ve fooled me.” He clamped his hand around Farrell’s throat and slammed him against the wall. The man’s cold black eyes narrowed as his grip increased.

  The world began to bleed away at the edges of Farrell’s sight.

  Then Lucas came at him, the sharp needle on the ring aimed for the rapist’s neck. The man knocked his hand away and slammed his fist into Lucas’s face, letting go of Farrell.

  Farrell slumped to the ground, wheezing. His ears rang, his lungs burned.

  But he didn’t hesitate. Farrell got back up and attacked.

  Together, he and Lucas fought, punching and kicking the rapist as a team until they finally got the advantage.

  The man did his share of damage in return. Farrell tasted the copper tang of his own blood. Lucas got an angry cut over his left eyebrow when he was slammed into the wall.

  Finally, the man dropped to his knees, his face as bloody as the Firebird drug dealer’s had been.

  Farrell saw the flash of metal: Instead of the syringe-ring, Lucas now brandished a knife.

  “He’s too dangerous to take in, even unconscious,” he said. “He’ll never last three months till the next meeting, but we can’t leave him out on the streets preying on the innocent.”

  “You’re just a kid,” the rapist muttered, his black gaze fixed on the weapon. “You have no idea what you’re doing, playing with shiny things like that.”

  “Don’t I?” Lucas moved behind the man and gripped his forehead. “I find you guilty and I sentence you to death.”

  He sliced the blade across the man’s throat. Blood spurted from the gaping wound.

  The man clutched his neck, his eyes wide and staring, before he fell face-first onto the pavement.

  Farrell just stood there, stunned, as he watched the puddle of crimson grow. “You killed him.”

  “Damn right I did. One less evil piece of garbage to deal with in the future.” Lucas flicked a look at Farrell as he wiped the blade off on a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. “You got a problem with that?”

  The man was dead and the blood still flowed. No shiver of magic, no gratifying feeling that the society was working as one united force against evil. This was just Lucas, Farrell, a knife, and someone deserving death.

  So much blood. The sight filled Farrell with a cool satisfaction.

  A smile curled up the side of his mouth. “Nope. No problem at all.”

  “Good.”

  He’d accepted the society executions as a necessary evil, but he’d never before been excited by the sight of death. To hold another person’s life in one’s hands, to control his fate . . . now that was ultimate power.

  Farrell craved more.

  “Saving the world,” he said, finding that his mind was every bit as clear as his conscience. “One day at a time.”

  Chapter 18

  MADDOX

  They walked northeast from the goddess’s palace for hours until they reached a thick forest. Their path through the forest narrowed, and the canopy of leaves and branches became as thick above their heads as it had been in Valoria’s throne room. The air smelled fresh here, scented by evergreens and flowering trees. As they silently walked, focusing on their footsteps, the forest came alive with the songs of birds and the buzz of insects.r />
  “I’ll admit it,” Becca said. “It’s beautiful here.”

  “It certainly can be,” Maddox replied.

  “Do you have seasons here?” she asked. “At home, we just got through winter. It was an extra cold one with tons of snow.”

  “I’ve heard of kingdoms that experience changing climates. Mytica isn’t like that. This is how it is all the time. We have rain and thunderstorms, of course, and it can get cooler at night. But it’s always warm during the day.” He gazed around at the trees. “I can’t imagine this kingdom covered in snow and ice.”

  “Lucky you,” she mused.

  “I don’t know. I think it would be nice to experience something different. So maybe you’re the lucky one.”

  “Maybe,” she allowed.

  “We’re going to stop for a rest here,” Barnabas announced as the forest thinned out to reveal the edge of a small lake about fifty paces away, its surface like glass reflecting the blue sky. He put his weapons down on the grassy ground. “Our destination is still a day’s journey from here, so I do want to keep going while there’s still light. We’ll stop again at dusk and make camp.”

  Becca still looked fresh and lovely despite having kept pace with them all day. Perhaps as a spirit she didn’t experience fatigue like Maddox did. He knew he must be a sight—a sweaty, disgusting mess.

  Barnabas began to remove his filthy trousers.

  “Um, why is he taking his clothes off?” Becca asked.

  “Barnabas, what are you doing?” Maddox asked as the man’s pants hit the ground. Becca turned her back to the scene, her expression turning squeamish.

  Barnabas glanced at Maddox. “I’m going to take a bath. The first one I’ve had in, well, by the smell of me, far too long.”

  Off came the shirt.

  “A bath,” Maddox repeated.

  “Yes. A long one.” He nodded. “And I’ll wash my clothes as best I can, too. I suggest you do the same. A couple of days in the dungeon doesn’t do anyone any good.”

  Without another word, he wadded up his clothing into a ball and walked toward the lake, completely nude.

  “Be careful of lake monsters!” Maddox called after him. Barnabas replied with a laugh.

  Becca cringed. “There are lake monsters?”

  He wondered if there were lake monsters in her world. He shot her a grin. “They’re just a legend.”

  “Lots of legends around here, aren’t there?” She swept her gaze over him and bit her bottom lip. “Are you going to have a bath now, too?”

  “I can’t argue that it’s not an excellent idea.”

  Still, he didn’t make a single move to start taking off his clothes.

  “Why don’t I wait over there?” She gestured to a grassy clearing and raised an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t watch.”

  “Can I trust you to keep that promise?”

  Her smile was mischievous at the edges. “Cross my heart.”

  He frowned. “Does that mean yes?”

  “Yes, I promise. I won’t peek at the two handsome skinny-dippers. Have fun.”

  He watched her walk away, certain he’d heard her wrong. Handsome?

  His grin returned, and he quickly stripped and tucked his clothes beneath his arm. The water felt cold but invigorating as he waded into the lake. When he was submerged to his waist, he started to wash the dirt from his skin. It felt wonderful.

  Barnabas floated by on his back, spitting out lake water as if he were a fountain. “I’ll go hunting when we make camp later and bring us back some dinner. Unless you’d like the honor.”

  Maddox had never had a father to teach him how to hunt. He’d helped his mother with her snares and her vegetable garden, gotten their bread from the local market, but that hardly counted as practice. “I’m not much of a hunter.”

  “That makes one of us. When I was your age, I was the best hunter in the entire kingdom.”

  And the most modest about it, too, Maddox thought. “I’m sure you were.”

  “We’ll also take some time this evening to test your magic.”

  “Test it how, exactly?” Maddox scrubbed his shirt, attempting to remove the more stubborn stains.

  “Don’t worry too much about your clothes, my young friend. We’ll steal more the first chance we get.” Barnabas dove underwater and came up again a moment later, sliding his fingers through his black hair. “As far as the test . . . I haven’t yet seen any real proof of your abilities.”

  “You said I was the one who raised the dead in the palace graveyard. Wasn’t that proof enough?”

  “That was just a guess. An educated one, but still, only a guess. Did Livius ever help you practice your magic?”

  He remembered how Livius would grow disgusted and threaten him whenever Maddox disappointed him. “No. But he got angry when it wouldn’t work on command in front of clients. Luckily, we encountered very few real spirits during our partnership.”

  “Partnership, huh?” Barnabas vigorously scrubbed his hair and beard. Now that he was clean, Maddox saw that he was younger than he’d initially guessed. Perhaps only twice Maddox’s age. Barnabas’s smile had fallen away, and he now wore more of a scowl. “You were saddled with him for far too long. I’m surprised your mother was such a poor judge of character when it came to him.”

  “What do you know about my mother?” Maddox asked, now guarded. “Do you know her because you knew my father?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And is that how you know about Livius? I don’t think I ever mentioned him by name.” Maddox watched Barnabas very carefully for his reply.

  “Everyone knows about Livius. There was a reward for his capture, you know, for crimes of his past. A good one, too. Damn goddess stole my chance to line my pockets with gold when she caught him and killed him.” He eyed Maddox. “You don’t believe a word coming out of my mouth, do you?”

  “Not really,” Maddox admitted.

  “Smart boy. Never trust anyone until they’ve proved themselves to you. But give me time. I’ll earn that trust of yours.”

  “Swear it on the goddess?”

  “I’ll swear it on King Thaddeus’s name.” He grew more serious in moments. “That’s my ultimate plan, you should know. King Thaddeus’s offspring has been kept hidden away for safekeeping since infancy, and I mean to put that rightful child on the throne when I finally do away with Valoria once and for all.”

  This seemed like an exceptionally honorable goal to Maddox. He never would have guessed that this crazy thief had such loyalty inside him. “You mean to steal the throne from a goddess and give it to a dead king’s son. That’s a dangerous plan.”

  “It’s his daughter, actually.” He raised his brow as he swam in a slow circle around Maddox. “You immediately assume the rightful owner of the throne is a boy, huh? What would your pretty little spirit have to say about that?”

  The knowledge of Becca’s existence still felt precious, like a priceless jewel he needed to guard.

  Could he trust this man?

  He was silent a moment longer, thinking hard. “She says she’s from another world. She says she’s connected to me somehow. . . .”

  “Which, if you’re a necromancer, makes sense.” Barnabas lowered his brow. “Another world? Did she really say that?”

  “She did.” The skepticism he’d pushed away earlier now came back with full strength. “I’ve never heard of a necromancer before.”

  “You’re sixteen. I’m sure there are many mysteries in this world you’re not aware of yet. Or that I’m not aware of, for that matter.”

  “You’ve met another like me?”

  “Not exactly like you. No, my friend, you are most definitely one of a kind. But I know your magic is death magic. I’ve seen much proof of it already, but I know you can do more.”

  “How d
o you know?” He tried to piece it together in his mind. “Was it my father? Did he tell you? How would he know anything about me if he’s never known me? Was he a necromancer, too?”

  All the humor and openness remaining in Barnabas’s face had disappeared. “There are some things I can’t share with you right now, my friend. You’re going to have to trust me for a while longer, no matter how difficult that request may seem.”

  Maddox pressed his lips together and glared at him.

  Barnabas shrugged. “Don’t give me that look. Remember, if it weren’t for me, you’d likely be kneeling at the goddess’s skirts, trying to figure out how not to become food for her snake or a new plant for her garden.”

  “I could have escaped without your help.”

  “Of course you could have.” He nodded, but Maddox felt as if he were being mocked. “Now, back to the subject of your spirit friend. What does she want from you?”

  Maddox wasn’t sure that he wanted to share any more information with this strange man. “She thinks I can help her return to her world. And if what you’re saying about whatever is locked within the box we stole is true, there’s a possibility she might be right.”

  Barnabas nodded as if what Maddox had just said wasn’t madness itself. “If a beautiful girl asks for your help because she believes in you, you must help her. Simple as that.”

  Then he began to swim away.

  “Wait,” Maddox said. “You need to tell me more about my father. How did he die? And did he know about my magic?”

  “Later,” Barnabas replied. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about him later.”

  Then he dove under the water and disappeared from sight.

  Maddox finished before Barnabas did and emerged from the lake, wringing out his clothes before sliding back into them. There was no time to let them dry first. He felt clean and determined as he went in search of Becca, frustrated and angry about his conversation with Barnabas.

  He found her seated beneath a tall oak tree in the grassy clearing, her head in her hands.

  When he realized she was crying, his heart wrenched.