A Book of Spirits and Thieves Read online

  Magic had once existed more plentifully here. Golden and flawless immortals—the same immortals Lord Gillis believed once used his gardens—were said to have once walked side by side among mortals.

  All Maddox knew for sure was that there were no golden immortals in Mytica anymore—at least, none whom he’d seen with his own eyes. There were only two powerful goddesses to worship.

  But there were some who wished to worship neither. A handful of rebels had risen up a decade ago but had been easily defeated by the goddesses and their armies.

  In Central Mytica was a large swath of unsettled land that was considered neutral ground. Those who chose to live there did so in exile, without the protection or guidance of the powerful leaders to the north and south. Central Mytica was a wild and lawless land, one Maddox had no interest in ever visiting.

  A fat woman festooned with flowers tucked into her hair and fastened to her dress merrily greeted Maddox and Livius as they entered the crowded festival. “Welcome to the Celebration of Her Radiance, the Goddess of Earth and Water!” She placed a daisy chain around each of their necks. “There is cider in the blue tent, and in the red tent, we have roasted chestnuts, seared goat, baked figs, fried fish tails—so much to eat! Have a wonder-filled day!”

  “Thank you,” Maddox said, amazed by the mass of colorful tents, the delicious scent of freshly seared meat and just-picked delicacies, and the hundreds of people out enjoying the day of sunshine. Dozens of banners waved, adorned with the image of the goddess and the symbols of her elements—wavy lines for water, a circle within a circle for earth.

  “Good sirs.” Another man approached with an ear-to-ear grin. “Allow me to show you my very special product.” He held up a clay pot filled with a brown substance, whose stench wrinkled Maddox’s nose. “This is manure from my favorite cow, who I believe to be a bovine witch that can conjure up earth magic in a rather creative way. Purchase this from me today, and I will guarantee your crops will grow better than—”

  “Remove yourself from my sight,” Livius growled, shoving him out of the way. “Come on, Maddox. We don’t have time for such nonsense.”

  “He says his cow is a witch.”

  “He’s an idiot. Besides, we’re not here to take a pleasurable stroll through the vendors’ tents. We’re here for business.”

  Maddox’s steps slowed as they approached a small yellow tent, just past a trio of jugglers in colorful garb and a pen of pigs and chickens. He’d rather inspect magical manure all day than help Livius with this task.

  “Do I have to come in with you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Livius hissed. “Stop asking stupid questions.”

  There were other questions Maddox wanted to ask. Such as: Why do I have to meet the man to whom you owe money? Do you think I’ll protect you with my magic?

  If he could find a way to properly control and harness his magic, he certainly wouldn’t use it to protect Livius.

  He cast another wistful look at the jugglers, all laughing as they performed for an enthusiastic audience. It looked like fun for both the audience and the performers.

  Livius took a deep breath before he pulled back the flap and entered the tent. Maddox reluctantly followed him into the dark interior.

  Two large, intimidating bodyguards stood by the entrance like a duo of ugly tree trunks, their thick arms crossed over their broad chests. Another man sat at a wooden table, attended by a buxom, young blond woman who served him food and drink.

  “Livius!” The man smacked his lips after devouring a juicy rib of some unknown animal—likely from the pen of depressed-looking swine they’d passed—and wiped his greasy fingers on the loose silk ties of his shirt. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Cena.” There was no apprehension or fear in Livius’s voice, only confidence—even if it was false. “Yes, far too long.”

  Cena leaned back in his chair. His bushy eyebrows joined in the middle of his forehead, looking like a fat caterpillar that had attached itself to his face. “For a while, I thought you were dead. Or that I’d have to send my men into the land of darkness to drag your arse back here.”

  Livius laughed as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. His fingers twitched as he stroked his eye patch. “No need to attempt such a journey.”

  “And who is this?” Cena gestured toward Maddox.

  “This”—Livius squeezed Maddox’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince—“is my son, Maddox.”

  Maddox needed to bite his tongue not to argue with such an introduction.

  Cena pursed his lips. “Your son looks nothing like you.”

  “He got his looks from his mother. His brains from me.” Livius reached into his satchel and pulled out a heavy bag of coins, which he then placed next to Cena’s plate of food. “This is part of what I owe you.”

  Cena glanced at the bag. “When will I get the rest?”

  “Soon.”

  “How soon?”

  Livius’s jaw tensed. “Very soon.”

  “I’d almost forgotten how much you like to give vague answers when you know I’ll only be pleased by specific ones.” Cena fixed him with a predatory smile. There was a strand of meat stuck between two of his yellowish teeth. He glanced again at Maddox. “You’re the one I’ve heard about, aren’t you?”

  Maddox didn’t like so much attention on him. “Me?”

  “The witch boy who can speak to the dead.”

  That was the trouble with secrets. Once they started to spread, they ceased being secrets at all.

  “It’s all a con,” Livius said quickly. “The boy has no talent other than a keen ability to earn his old man the coin I need to pay you back.”

  “A con, is it? From what I’ve heard, it’s a rather successful one.” Cena kept his attention on Maddox, which made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. It didn’t seem to be in his best interest for this man to know the truth.

  A sharp intake of breath drew Maddox’s attention to the right of the tent. His stomach lurched to see that the spirit girl had reappeared.

  “You again!” she managed. Her gaze frantically moved through the tent. “For a moment, I thought I’d gone home, but I’m still here. And, again, trying to find my way in this strange place has led me straight to you.”

  “Livius, your son suddenly looks rather unwell,” Cena observed.

  Livius’s expression was tense. “He’s a sickly boy. Some days I wonder how much longer he has to live.”

  The lie was so quick to leave Livius’s mouth that Maddox wondered if it might be the truth. Something behind the words sounded like a threat.

  “Go, boy.” Cena flicked a finger at him. “Go outside and get some sunlight on your face and some air in your lungs. Let me talk to your father for a while in private.”

  Maddox didn’t have to be told twice. He felt Livius’s glare on him as he departed the tent without another word. He walked fifty paces through the festival grounds before he stopped and slowly turned around.

  The spirit girl—Becca Hatcher was what she’d called herself—stood directly behind him. She looked the same as she had the day before, in her strange woolen tunic and trousers, so unlike the other girls her age attending the festival.

  How old had she been when she died? About his age or a little younger?

  All he knew for sure was that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his entire life.

  He blinked with surprise at the thought. No. Spirits aren’t beautiful. They’re dark and evil.

  “Are you going to talk to me, or what?” Her dark blue eyes flashed with impatience. “You’re starting to make me feel like I’ve gone completely mad.”

  That made two of them, actually.

  “Where am I?” she asked, glancing around at the busy festival. “This is all so weird.”

  He understood most of her words,
but some of them seemed as unusual and foreign to him as her clothing. “You need to leave me alone, Becca Hatcher.”

  She turned a smile on him this time, a bright smile that made a warmth rise within him. She certainly didn’t look anything like the shadowy creatures he’d encountered before. “Just Becca is fine. And thank you.”

  Livius doesn’t let me talk to girls, he reasoned with himself. That must be why I’m so distracted by this one.

  No, not a girl. A spirit. Dark and evil, remember?

  Now he was annoyed.

  “Thank you for what?” he asked, crossing his arms tightly.

  “For acknowledging my existence.”

  He eyed the people milling past him with uneasiness. “I’m acknowledging nothing.”

  “If you say so. Who are you? What’s your name?”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” he said sharply. He had to take control of this situation. He wasn’t defenseless against such creatures. She’d best be wary of how far she pressed his patience. “You need to go. Now.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back to where you came from.”

  “That’s exactly what I want to do, but I have no idea how. It’s . . .” She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s so hard to explain. All I know is I was in the shop with Crys, and that book . . . I swear, this is all because of that book!”

  “What book?” He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “The book.” She gestured wildly as if this would help explain. “It was written in some sort of bizarre language I’ve never seen before. And then I felt something grab hold of me, and the next moment, I’m here. Or . . . I was outside that big house. When I went inside, I saw you. And you saw me.” She frowned. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

  She spoke so quickly all he could do was cock his head and try his very best to follow along. She wore a necklace—a silver rose suspended on a thin silver chain—which she played with, twisting it between her index finger and thumb. Her fingernails were colored with paint, a bright rose shade like her knitted tunic.

  When he realized he was staring, his gaze shot back to her face. “I’m listening.”

  She studied him for a moment. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

  “It’s Maddox.” He groaned at his mistake. He hadn’t meant to tell her his real name.

  “Maddox,” she repeated.

  The odd whisper of pleasure he got at hearing her speak his name aloud only made him more annoyed than he already was.

  “Tell me where I am, Maddox,” she said.

  “This may be difficult for you to understand, but you’re a spirit. Somehow you’ve managed to escape the land beyond death and return to the mortal realm . . . where you’ve somehow maintained your mortal form. This is very rare.” In fact, it was the very first time he’d encountered such a spirit.

  A man passing Maddox gave him a strange look that made him cringe. It would be better that no one listen in—otherwise, it would appear as if he were conversing with thin air.

  She frowned at him. “You’re trying to tell me I’m a ghost. That I’m dead.”

  “Apologies if this is a shock to you, but . . . yes.”

  “I’m not dead,” she said, raising her chin. “I’d know if I were dead.”

  “Would you?” He decided to be bold and waved his hand through her form. She stared down at herself with dismay as her body momentarily turned to smoke wherever he touched. “Does that seem normal to you?”

  Now she looked ill. “No. Not even slightly.”

  “Then I’ve proved my point.”

  Slowly, she took a deep breath and regained an expression of steely resolve. “Okay, before I completely freak out, I need to make something crystal clear to you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know I’m not dead. I’m not a ghost. I’ve been . . . zapped. By . . . magic or . . . something. I obviously don’t know exactly what happened. But the fact that you can see me, the fact that I found you again among all these people, leads me to believe that you’re the one who can help me.”

  Help her? He couldn’t even help himself. “I assure you, I can’t help you.”

  “You can.” Becca reached for him, but her hand passed right through his arm. She clenched her hand into a fist, her expression turning pained. “If you’d just try!”

  “Listen to me, would you? I don’t need trouble. I have enough trouble as it is.”

  If that was so, then why did something inside him want to help her? She must be so scared, but she was hiding it well. The girl was brave.

  No, not a girl. A spirit.

  Maddox sighed. She was also a girl.

  A girl who was asking him to help her.

  Finally he sighed. “Try how? I don’t know what you think I can do for you.”

  “Before I first met you, I felt . . . weightless. I felt a terrifying nothingness. But when I’m anywhere near you, I feel something. It’s the same sort of shivery sensation I got when I touched the book. Something—I don’t know. Magical?” She tried to meet his gaze, but he looked away. “That book is the reason I’m here—I know it is.” She looked down at herself, then gave him a squeamish look. “Yes, I’m seriously going to freak out.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know what that means, exactly, but don’t do it.”

  “Please,” she said, her voice now quavering. “Please, help me.”

  Curse it, he swore inwardly. He did want to help her if he could.

  Suddenly, he thought of that first spirit he’d ever encountered, the horrible, dark creature that had reached for him in the night.

  What would have happened if he’d agreed to help it instead of hiding from it? If he’d opened his heart to something so clearly in pain, rather than cower in fear from it?

  Perhaps it had been every bit as frightened as he was.

  A terror-filled scream from somewhere nearby drew his attention away from the spirit girl.

  “Wait here,” he told Becca.

  A crowd had quickly gathered. Maddox now began to run toward the commotion to see what had caused it.

  “What’s going on?” he asked a woman at the edge of the crowd with two children at her feet, clutching her skirts.

  “A witch,” the woman told him. He peered over the shoulders of those in front of him to see that a young girl had been grabbed by a man wearing the uniform of Valoria’s private guard: brown leather tunic and trousers, red cape, and golden helmet. “She’s been accused of using her magic in an attempt to summon a storm to ruin the festival.”

  Maddox looked up at the cloudless blue sky. “There’s no storm.”

  The woman shrugged. “As I said, it was an attempt.”

  It was rumored that Valoria arrested and imprisoned witches with minor abilities in elemental magic, reasoning that the use of such spells made her own powers seem less incredible and fearsome to her subjects. Another rumor was that she didn’t want these witches to gather in large groups, pooling their magic in any attempt to usurp her throne.

  “So now what?” Maddox asked the woman. Despite his command that she stay behind, Becca had come to stand next to him.

  “There will be a public execution,” the woman said.

  “What?” Becca exclaimed. “They’re going to kill that girl just because someone accused her of being a witch? What is this, old Salem? You’re kidding me, right?”

  “It’s the way of this place,” he told her under his breath. How could she not know this?

  “The way?” she sputtered. “What backward, messed-up, whackadoodle place is this? That girl doesn’t deserve to die. She didn’t do anything wrong!”

  He agreed with her, despite not fully grasping her truly bizarre language. He’d always found such knee-jerk decisions to be cruel and unnecessary. But what could he do about such matters? The goddess
decided the laws—it was up to her citizens to abide by them.

  He shook his head. “An accusation is more than enough to condemn her, no matter how”—he paused—“whackadoodle it might seem.”

  When he turned from her, she darted back into his view. He groaned. She was as persistent as a buzzing honeybee.

  “Then you need to help her,” she insisted.

  “I need to do no such thing.”

  “You mean, you’d just stand here and watch them do whatever they’re going to do to her? Like it’s nothing?”

  Her words were like a stinging slap to his cheek. “I don’t think it’s nothing.”

  “Who are you speaking to, young man?” the woman asked, frowning.

  “No one,” he growled, his anger over his own powerlessness triggered by the mouthy spirit girl. “No one at all.”

  “Nice,” Becca said, although her tone told him she meant anything but nice. “Ignore me. You can try, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. I will haunt you for the rest of my life if you don’t help her!”

  The threat made him grimace.

  In the center of the crowd, the girl screamed again as the guard yanked her hair.

  “This foul witch,” the guard announced, loud enough for all to hear, “has shown rebellion and evil intentions against our great leader, Her Radiance, the Goddess of Earth and Water. Such a crime cannot be tolerated. It will not be tolerated. Her sentence is death.”

  Maddox looked on, his fists tightly clenched at his sides.

  “No, please!” the girl cried out. “I’m not a witch! I’d never do anything to challenge Her Radiance!”

  She could easily be lying. And even if she wasn’t, Maddox couldn’t just freely roam about North Mytica, helping every wrongly accused witch he came across. Livius would never agree to that.

  “Do something!” Becca yelled at him, right in his ear. “You need to help her!”

  His cheek twitched.

  He didn’t doubt Becca’s threat. She would haunt him forever.

  The guard pulled his sword from its sheath, his expression impassive. He raised it above his head, ready to bring it down to end the witch’s life.