A Book of Spirits and Thieves Read online

  Camilla then went to Barnabas for an embrace. From this angle, facing her back, all Maddox could see was that she wore a purple cloak that hugged her curves.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you,” she said, and then turned around to look at Maddox. “And who is your new friend?”

  Maddox couldn’t hold back a wince as the ugliest woman he’d ever seen swept her gaze over him.

  Her hair was patchy and balding in the front, and she had no eyebrows to speak of. One bloodshot eye was set much lower than the other, and her chin sported a full beard of warts.

  “This, Camilla, is Maddox Corso.”

  She inhaled sharply. “The witch boy.”

  “That’s right,” Barnabas said proudly.

  “I’d really prefer a different nickname,” Maddox said.

  Camilla patted Maddox’s cheek with her gnarled hand. “Shall we get you down from there, dearie?”

  “I would be eternally grateful for that.”

  She held up a knife with an alarmingly large blade, but before he could utter a word of protest, she had hacked through the rope in a single swipe.

  Maddox dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, then looked up to see Becca gazing down at him, her hands on her hips.

  “Very graceful,” she said with a grin.

  “I do try.”

  “Excellent,” Barnabas said, nodding. “Now, let’s go inside and talk revolution.”

  Inside the witch’s cottage, Barnabas placed the copper box on a wooden table.

  Camilla shook her head in disbelief. “I can hardly believe you retrieved it.”

  “I can hardly believe it, either, to tell you the truth. It was difficult enough getting into that dungeon and locating young Maddox here, let alone getting out of it with all our limbs intact.”

  “I always knew you were a wily one, ever since you were a wee thing, Barnabas.” She rubbed her hands together with glee. “That you stole it right from under her evil nose gives me such joy, so much I find I cannot express it. Finally, we have the chance to make Valoria pay for all the pain that she’s caused.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he replied. “Now, remember, the lock is enchanted.”

  “I remember, of course. I was the one who told you!” She wiggled her fingers and leaned closer to the box. “Now let me just test exactly how enchanted this little box is. . . .”

  She pressed her fingers against the lock and held them there. There was a sizzling sound, a sharp crack, and then Camilla fell over backward.

  Maddox looked down at the witch, who was now unconscious on the floor of her cottage, as she began to snore. “My guess would be . . . very enchanted,” he said.

  “Yes.” Barnabas crossed his arms. “Well, it seems we have a little time on our hands. I’m going to see if she has any wine.”

  After a short while, Camilla began to rouse, groaning as she opened her crooked eyes. “Oh my,” she managed. “That was quite unpleasant. But I do have my answer. As soon as I regain my strength, I will be ready to break the spell that keeps this box and its treasure out of our reach.”

  “What do you think?” Becca asked. She sat cross-legged on the floor by the fire. “Are they going to tell you what’s inside or keep you guessing forever?”

  She was right—he was tired of being kept in the dark.

  “What’s in the box?” Maddox asked aloud to the room. “I believe I have a right to know, since I helped to steal it. Barnabas says it can pull someone from one world to another. Is that true?”

  “You think I’d lie to you?” Barnabas pressed a hand to his chest as if stunned by this insult. Then he laughed. “Kidding, of course. I lie to everyone. But that was not a lie.”

  “He’s told you nothing else?” Camilla asked, clearly surprised at how tight-lipped Barnabas had been.

  “He’s told me lots of things. I don’t exactly know which of them to believe.”

  She glanced at Barnabas, who gave her a nod. “Feel free to educate the boy,” he said. “Within reason.”

  Within reason? What was that supposed to mean?

  Camilla gave the copper box a wary look and then placed her hand on the top of it. “The contents of this box once belonged to a sorceress named Eva. She was an immortal from a world apart from ours, the first immortal whose job it was to watch over this mortal realm. She possessed several specific tools to aid her in this task, and what rests in here is one of them. When Eva was murdered by fellow immortals, ones whom she once trusted but who betrayed her, these tools were scattered, and then stolen by thieves who wished to use their powers for their own gain. This box has remained locked away in Valoria’s secret armarium ever since she seized the throne from King Thaddeus. She wishes to use it to gain access to another of Eva’s tools, a golden dagger that she believes has fallen into yet another world. Sadly for Valoria, she doesn’t possess the right kind of magic to achieve this goal, so for all these years, she has been searching for other solutions.”

  “The young witch Valoria believes is dead,” Maddox said aloud, as the pieces of this puzzle, scattered up until now, began clicking together for him. He glanced at Barnabas. “She possesses the magic Valoria requires to get the dagger back.”

  Barnabas gave a shallow nod. “That is what the goddess believes.”

  “Come with me, young man. I have something to show you.” Camilla directed Maddox out of her cottage to a garden surrounded by a tall stone fence. Barnabas and Becca followed closely behind.

  In the garden was a tangle of weeds and wildflowers, a rickety wooden shed, and, dead center, a stone wheel as tall as Maddox.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “A stone wheel,” Camilla replied.

  “I can see that. But what does it do? Why is it here?”

  “Eva used wheels just like this, which she placed in strategic locations around Mytica. They are vessels that hold gateway magic. This magic can remain in the wheels for centuries because of the high density of the stone.” She gave the wheel a hard knock as if to prove this. “We mean to use this wheel in the same way and create a gateway to send Valoria out of this world forever.”

  “Truth be told,” Barnabas said, eyeing the wheel, “I thought it would be much bigger.”

  Maddox shook his head. “Wait. Even if you’re able to create this gateway, how do you plan to get Valoria here, to your home? And then, on the off chance that you could get her here, how would you manage to then push her, a goddess, through a gateway to a . . . another world? It would be next to impossible.”

  “One thing at a time, my young friend,” Barnabas said. “First we need to access the proper magic, and then . . . we’ll figure out the rest.”

  A solid plan, Maddox thought, if an early and very painful death was the end goal.

  Still, he considered everything he’d been told so far. If Barnabas and Camilla were right, if they could get the wheel magic to work without any help from the girl Valoria sought . . .

  He turned to find Becca standing behind him, wringing her hands. Their eyes met and hers now shone with hope.

  “Could this magic retrieve a spirit who has been displaced from her world?” Maddox asked Camilla, without turning his attention fully from Becca.

  “What a strange question,” Camilla replied, scratching her lower eye. “But I don’t see why not.”

  “This is it,” Becca whispered. “This is how you can help me get home again.”

  “It could be,” he agreed.

  “Now,” Camilla said, “come back inside and let’s have some soup. I made it fresh just before you arrived.”

  They went back inside for some soup that tasted like potatoes and dirt. Camilla cleared the dishes when they were done.

  “I feel much better,” she announced. “Let’s try again.”

  Maddox watched tensely as Camilla focused again
on the copper box. She posed with her hands on either side of it, as if trying to sense and harness its energy.

  “I’d suggest she doesn’t touch the lock this time,” Becca said.

  Maddox fought a smile.

  “Ah, yes,” Camilla gasped. “I feel it now. I must concentrate. Oh, here it goes. Here it is . . . yes, almost there. And”—she inhaled sharply—“and done.”

  The locked popped open.

  Maddox’s eyes widened. “You are a witch.”

  “And proud of it, young man.” Camilla grinned. “Now, stand back. There could be another trap inside.”

  They backed away as Camilla slowly . . . very slowly . . . opened the lid. Maddox didn’t know what to expect, but when nothing happened, and no one started to scream or run away, he let out a long sigh of relief.

  “Oh, it’s incredible,” Camilla breathed. “I already feel its power, waiting to be unlocked next.”

  She reached into the copper box and pulled an object out.

  Maddox cocked his head. “Huh. I expected something much shinier.”

  Camilla held in her hands a book. And not even a particularly spectacular-looking one, at that.

  Becca staggered back at the sight of it, her hand flying to her mouth. Maddox looked at her, alarmed by her reaction.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “That book . . .”

  He glanced again at the brown leather-bound book, its cover emblazoned with a bronze hawk. “What about it?”

  She looked stunned, as if completely petrified. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

  “That’s the book that sent me here.”

  Chapter 21

  CRYSTAL

  Her father drove her back to the Tim Hortons where he’d picked her up. As soon as he gave her permission to do so, Crys peeled the blindfold away from her eyes.

  “You all right?” he asked. They’d been silent for nearly the entire ride.

  “I will be.” She rubbed her eyes, pulled her glasses out of her bag, and slid them back on. “You believe in Markus and his vision for the future, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Without any reservations, yes,” he replied, those mirrored lenses still covering his eyes. “And now that you know all the things I could never tell you before, I know you’re going to make the right choice.”

  Crys nodded and leaned forward to give him a quick hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He patted her back. “Now, go. Your mother will wonder where you’ve gotten to.”

  She got out of the car and watched him pull away. She stood there until he drove around a corner and his car disappeared from view.

  Instead of going home or even heading to the hospital to check on Becca, Crys set out on a walk along Bloor Street. She needed time to think, to work everything out in her head.

  Her entire world had shifted on its axis over the last week. So much of the information she’d learned was so far-fetched that it seemed impossible. She’d never been the type to read horoscopes, to get excited about visiting psychics, or to believe in the possibility that the rabbit hadn’t been in the magician’s hat all along.

  This—this answer she’d received after meeting Markus herself—had been completely unexpected. What he’d shown her of his magic was real, and she couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to.

  She looked down at her healed index finger and rubbed it with her thumb.

  An immortal god, she thought. Did I really meet an immortal god today?

  She stopped at the intersection of Bay and Bloor, waiting for the light to turn green and the pedestrian sign to switch on. Then something caught her eye. A black limo, its back window rolling down so someone inside could flick out a cigarette butt.

  The window was tinted and didn’t roll down all the way, but it gave her enough of a view inside for her to see a face.

  Farrell’s face.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  But then, in the split second before he rolled the window back up, she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Someone was sitting next to him. Someone she recognized, but it took her a moment to place the face. And when she did, it made no sense to her.

  It looked like the boy who’d tried to steal her bag.

  Why would he be riding in a limo with Farrell? Her eyes must be playing tricks on her.

  The light turned green, and the limo drove away.

  She tossed and turned in bed all night as she wondered about Farrell, about her father and mother, about Markus.

  The next morning, she went to the kitchen and sat down at the small table. The coffee had started to brew thanks to its automatic timer.

  Soon, a bleary-eyed Julia Hatcher entered the room and headed straight for the coffee.

  “Exactly what I need,” she murmured, pouring herself a mug and adding cream and sugar. “Good morning. You’re going to school today, I hope?” Crys just looked at her, her expression an exact translation of the concern she felt in her heart. “What’s wrong?”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Her mother sat down across from her and took a sip from the mug. “Know what?”

  It was time to get it all out, come what may. She braced herself and took a breath.

  “I know about the Hawkspear Society. I know that you and Jackie once belonged, too, along with Dad. And I know about the Bronze Codex.”

  Her face went pale. “And let me guess. Your father told you all this?”

  “Some of it,” she admitted. “But I learned the rest from Markus King.”

  Her mother shot up to her feet so fast her chair skittered backward. “That’s impossible.”

  Now, that was a reaction that told her plenty. If Crys had received a bland “That’s nice, dear,” she would have known that her mother was still doing her playing-dumb routine.

  “Markus met with me. He invited me to his home.”

  Her mother shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “He’s young and handsome. At least, he looks that way. He says he’s an immortal god. Then he created fire from thin air and healed a cut on my hand like it was nothing, so, yeah, I think I believe him.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened with every word she spoke. “Everything he says is a lie.”

  “So you and Jackie weren’t part of Hawkspear? My great-grandfather wasn’t the cofounder of Markus’s society?”

  Panic had crept onto her mother’s face. “You have no idea what you’re getting involved in, Crystal. You don’t know what he really is, what he’s capable of.” She raked her hands through her hair. “No, this can’t happen. I won’t let you get hurt because of my choices. Everything I’ve done to protect you and Becca over the last fifteen years . . . and he still got to you.”

  She’d never seen her normally calm-and-collected mother so frenzied. Even on the night Crys mentioned seeing her father, her mother had left Becca’s hospital room to clear her head before responding.

  “I pursued this, Mom. Markus didn’t get to me; I got to him.”

  “But your father introduced you, didn’t he? Of course he did. There’s no other way for you to get to him. All this time, I thought Daniel still had some good, some kernel of decency, inside of him. But I see now I was wrong.”

  “He only did what I asked him to do. I needed to talk to Markus. What was I supposed to do? You’ve been keeping the truth from me this entire time!”

  This accusation received a sickened look. “Whatever he told you is not the whole truth.”

  Crys grabbed her mother by her upper arms. “Then tell me what is. Were you or weren’t you a member of Hawkspear?”

  Her frantic gaze finally met Crys’s. “I was.”

  A breath caught in Crys’s chest at the confirmation. “Why didn’t you tell me that yourself?”

  “Because the less I think about the society, the more in co
ntrol of my life I feel. It’s been fifteen years since Jackie and I walked away, Crys. Although sometimes it feels like just yesterday.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  Her mother went quiet, her eyes shifting back and forth rapidly as if reliving the memory. “Because Markus is a murderer.”

  Crys inhaled sharply. “Dr. Vega told me that he thinks Markus killed his father.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “You’ve been to see Dr. Vega, too? I’m seriously going to strangle Jackie when I see her. You remind me of your aunt so much sometimes. She’s relentless, too.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Okay, Crys. You win.” She cleared her throat nervously. “What do you want to know? There’s so much to say, too much to tell quickly. My family history is a sordid one, one I prefer not to think about much if I can avoid it.”

  Crys sorted through the million questions that rose in her mind. She started with what seemed like the most perplexing. “Where did Markus come from?”

  “All I know is one day, around sixty years ago, he just appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of my grandmother’s bookshop. Here, Crys. In the very same building we’re standing in right now. Everyone apparently thought my grandfather was crazy at the time, driven mad by the ghosts said to haunt this building. He was a vigilante who targeted men he thought were evil, and when Markus appeared, claiming to be a god of death, he felt justified in his actions.”

  Crys stayed silent, listening, her hand now pressed to her mouth as if to stop herself from gasping at everything her mother had said to fill in the blanks of Markus’s story.

  “My grandmother had become terrified of the husband she’d once loved more than anyone else in the world. And she was frightened of the man he called a god. For the first few days after his arrival, according to Grandma, Markus acted dazed and out of it. My grandfather looked after him. But he and Markus didn’t notice that something else had arrived in the bookstore shortly after he did. A book. The Codex.”