A Book of Spirits and Thieves (16 page)

And Farrell wanted to kill him.

“Wait, what are you—?” Michael began, but Farrell was there, yanking him to his feet.

“Stay the hell away from my brother. Hear me?” Farrell punched him in the throat.

Michael gasped and sputtered, clutching his neck. As Farrell came at him again, Michael tried to fight back, but he was at a disadvantage.

Senses, strength, clarity.

A cold and precise purpose:
Protect Adam.

Farrell threw Michael onto the dance floor, which cleared
immediately. The shrieks and yells echoed in Farrell’s ears. His fist connected with Michael’s nose, and he felt it break. Michael screamed.

A few more punches, and the kid collapsed to the ground. Farrell jumped on top of him, hitting him in the face over and over until all he saw was blood.

Someone grabbed hold of his arms to stop him. “You’re going to kill him!”

It was the club’s bouncer. He was strong and managed to drag Farrell up to his feet.

Michael just lay there, convulsing, whimpering.

“Don’t get up,” Farrell warned him.

“Trust me, buddy,” the bouncer said. “He’s not getting up anytime soon.”

Farrell turned a cool, calm look on the bouncer, sizing him up. He was larger than him, taller than him, and looked like trouble.

“Here.” Farrell pulled out his wallet and tucked five one-hundred-dollar bills into the bouncer’s shirt pocket. “Take care of this for me, okay, pal?”

The bouncer grabbed the money, frowning down at the bills.

Farrell didn’t wait for a confirmation. Money talked; it always did.

He grabbed Adam and pulled him out of the club, ignoring the stares from those who’d watched the one-sided fight. He didn’t let go of his brother until they were outside.

“Get in the car, kid.”

Adam just stared at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“You . . . what you did in there. You didn’t have to nearly beat him to death.”

“He gave you drugs.”

“So what? He didn’t force them on me. He offered, I took them. I wanted to see what it was like.”

“That’s how it starts.”

Adam eyes were wide. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I feel great. Actually, I’ve never felt better.” He flexed his fist, expecting to see bruised and bloodied knuckles, but his hand was unblemished.

“That wasn’t you,” Adam said, shaking his head. “That was a . . . a
monster
.”

“Enough melodrama. Let’s go.” He moved toward Adam, who flinched away from him as if he couldn’t bear to be touched.

“Who
are
you?” he whispered.

“I’m your brother,” Farrell said, relishing the cool sensation within him that made him see the world clearly. “And I only want to protect you.”

Chapter 15

MADDOX

W
hen the guards arrived at dawn to take him to his second audience with the goddess, he was ready.

“He’s coming with me,” Maddox insisted, nodding toward Barnabas.

The blond guard glanced at “Crazy Barney” and laughed. “Bonded overnight, did you?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“He can’t come with you.”

“The goddess wants me to use my magic to help her. And my magic—it’s very unpredictable. But with Barney around, it’s much easier to control. How can I explain it?” Maddox tapped his chin, as if thinking deeply. “Have you ever had a good luck charm?”

The dark-haired guard nodded. “I had a hen’s toe that my grandfather once gave me. Brought me great luck until I lost it.”

“Yes, exactly.
He’s
my hen’s toe,” Maddox said, nodding. “If he’s not in the same room, I might not be able to access my magic. And I don’t think the goddess will be pleased if I tell her that my humble request was denied.”

This earned him groans and dirty looks from the guards, but after much debate, they decided to bring Barnabas, in chains, along with them to the throne room.

That went smoothly
, Maddox thought. Perhaps Livius taught him how to lie better than he’d ever realized.

Barnabas had refused to share any real details about his plan. “Get me in that throne room and be ready for our imminent escape,” he’d said. “And I also have a task for your spirit friend while we’re otherwise occupied.”

Later, after he’d fallen asleep and started to snore, Becca regarded Maddox with disbelief.

“I don’t trust him,” she said. “He’s crazy.”

“It’s an act.”

“Who would break into a
dungeon
, even if it’s to get to you?”

“A madman.”

“Exactly. He knows too much about what you can do. He only wants to use you.”

“If he can get me out of here alive, I might be all right with that.”

“I like a nice walk,” Barnabas said now, his chains clanking with every step, drawing Maddox’s mind back to the present. “Good for the bones. Good for the marrow. Makes it glow at night like fire-sprites, which, confidentially speaking, are a delicious treat with a nice goblet of wine to help douse their flames.”

“Fire-sprites? Quiet, you crazy bastard,” the blond guard growled. “Or I’ll gut you where you stand.”

“No,” Maddox said quickly. “No gutting. He needs to be fully intact to be my hen’s toe. Be quiet, Barney.”

“Yes, my young friend. I shall be quiet. It has been far too long since I last feasted my eyes upon Her Radiance’s golden flesh. I tingle at the thought.”

“Shut up,” the blond guard growled, shoving him forward along the hallway.

Maddox wasn’t sure what to make of Barnabas, not yet, but since no one else was there to assist him in this particular time of need, he had no choice but to hold tightly on to optimism.

He wished Becca were walking by his side—that would help bolster his courage greatly. But Barnabas had given her the task of locating a specific room in the palace (“We could do it ourselves, but better to have an invisible friend help us,” he’d said), so she’d gone in the opposite direction.

They were brought to the front of the tree-and-plant-filled hall to kneel at the bottom of the steps before Valoria, who sat on her throne.

“What is this?” the goddess said with displeasure. “What is this filthy creature you insult me with?”

“Greetings, radiant being.” Barnabas nodded into a deep bow, his forehead brushing against the moss. “It is an honor to breathe the same rather humid air as you on this lovely, vine-entangled morning.”

“The madman,” the blond guard explained. “The witch boy claims that he needs him here to do his magic, as a good luck charm.”

“Does he, now.” She considered them one at a time. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. His stench will be removed from my presence before too long. Now, boy. Can you do what I ask of you?”

Aegus slithered out from beneath Valoria’s gown. Today her long skirts were black and trimmed in crimson.

“Such a beautiful creature!” Barnabas exclaimed. “One would never guess how cold-blooded it is.”

Maddox grimaced, knowing Barnabas wasn’t speaking only about the snake.

Aegus hissed, his forked tongue darting out from his mouth.

“Speak, boy,” Valoria commanded, ignoring Barnabas.

He’d spent most of the previous night worrying about how he would answer her. How did one respond to a goddess requesting an impossible task?

With as many lies as required, of course.

“Yes, Your Radiance, I can help you. Whatever you need. We will find this girl’s spirit and conjure it back from the realm of death, if that is where she is.”

“And can you extract her magic? So we can use it to reclaim what was stolen from me?”

Another addition to her list of impossible tasks. “It might help if I knew what the stolen object is that you’re seeking,” Maddox said.

“A dagger,” she said. “A very special golden dagger that has been long out of my reach. I also, of course, want the thief to pay dearly for his many crimes.”

A golden dagger. That was what all this was about?

“This young witch,” Maddox continued, willing confidence into his words. He thought of Livius again. He hated him for the three years they’d traveled together across the land, bilking nobles out of their coin, but he had been an excellent con man. “What does she look like? What is her name?”

“Her appearance? Her name?” Valoria’s eyes narrowed. “If I knew those things, I would have been able to find her myself. All I know for sure is that at the time she died—if she is indeed dead—she was a beautiful and very powerful young witch. She is the daughter of my dead sister, after all.”

Maddox’s eyes widened. “The daughter of . . .” He gulped.

He hadn’t known it was possible for immortal goddesses to have dead sisters.

Barnabas went rigid beside him, watching quietly, his gaze never leaving Valoria. “Do what you do to help Her Radiance, my young friend,” he said. “Do it now so she can get what she most deserves.”

“All right.” Maddox closed his eyes and raised his palms. “There are spirits around us all the time,” he lied. “I will now implore them, ask them for more information about this witch.”

Valoria nodded. “Very good. Go ahead.”

“Spirits, come to me. Answer my questions.” Maddox opened his eyes and glanced around at the tall trees that reached up toward the high ceiling and the monstrous flowers that snapped at any insects that crossed their paths. “Yes, yes, they are here. The spirits are curious about what you seek.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Oh . . . oh my.”

Valoria leaned forward. “What is it? What do you see?”

“There is a spirit here who is cautioning the others not to help you.”

“Who is this spirit?” Valoria hissed.

“King Thaddeus.” It was the name of the former king of Mytica, a kind and benevolent man who had welcomed the goddesses with open arms, willing to share his kingdom with them.

But as the story went, it wasn’t long before Valoria had turned him into a pile of dirt with her earth magic.

“Vanquish him! Send him back to the land of darkness,” Valoria instructed. She didn’t seem too concerned by this imaginary complication. “Do you require a box of silver to trap him?”

“No, Your Radiance. It must be a gold box.” Maddox found the lie very easy to tell.

Valoria glared down at him. “I don’t have a gold box here. Based on what your guardian said, I believed silver would be sufficient.”

Maddox tried to look both thoughtful and regretful. “Alas,
he didn’t know nearly as much as he thought he did about my abilities. Apologies, my goddess.”

“Very well.” She sent a withering look at the guard. “Fetch me a golden box immediately.”

“Yes, Your Radiance.”

But before the guard could leave, Maddox fixed a frown upon his face and shook his head as if listening to the dead king. “No, I can’t tell her that,” he said.

“What? What does he say?” she demanded.

“I . . . don’t want to tell you.”

“Tell me, or I will have your lucky charm killed.”

“Tell her,” Barnabas urged. “Now would be good.”

“Well, King Thaddeus says that he forgives you,” Maddox said, cocking his head as if the spirit spoke directly into his ear. “He says he knows you’re very sad, very lonely. He’s heard that you mean to add to your ban of all storybooks and tale-telling by forbidding such simple pleasures as singing and dancing. That you also want to outlaw the consumption of ale and wine. You don’t want your people to have access to life’s simple pleasures. He says that you do this because you are deeply unhappy.”

This was only a guess on Maddox’s part. Valoria was cruel and sharp on the outside, but there was something faded and gloomy in her green eyes that made him think his guess might be correct. The only time those eyes lit up with pleasure was when she gazed at her cobra, her dangerous, beloved pet.

“He forgives me, does he?” she said softly.

“Yes, Your Radiance.”

“How very, very . . . unlikely.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you play me for a fool, witch boy?”

Uh-oh.

There was a commotion at the back of the throne room. Six guards ran in, quickly navigating the winding pathway through the thick interior forest.

“Apologies, Your Radiance,” the lead guard said, “but a substantial problem has developed in the dungeons this morning. Twenty prisoners have broken free.”

“
What?
” she snarled. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know.” He bowed deeply. “I wasn’t there, but . . . I don’t believe this issue can be contained without, well, without . . . your intervention.”

“Weak, pathetic, useless mortals!” she hissed. She slipped Aegus into a large porcelain jar beside her throne, and then descended the stairs. “You,” she said to the two guards who’d brought Maddox and Barnabas before her, “stay here with them until I return.”

“Yes, Your Radiance,” the guards said in unison, their heads lowered.

“Who is responsible for this?” she demanded of the others.

The guard who’d given the news of the dungeon break glanced nervously at his partner.

“You’re both utterly useless.” She pointed at him, the long, loose sleeve of her black dress swishing. There was a crackle in the air and both guards let out pained gasps. Maddox watched in shock as their skin turned to bark, their fingers to leaves, their feet to roots. In moments, they were nothing more than two six-foot seedlings to join the rest of the goddess’s indoor forest.

As she passed them on her way out of the hall, Valoria shoved one of the new trees, breaking a branch off in her wake.

All was silent for several heartbeats after she left.

“I must admit, the woman does have a remarkable green thumb,” Barnabas said under his breath.

“Are you ready, Barnabas?” the dark-haired guard with the lucky hen’s toe asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He leaned backward and placed his hands on the mossy floor.

The guard swung his sword, slicing through Barnabas’s chains.

“What is the meaning of this?” the blond guard asked. “What is—?”

The other guard swung his sword again, permanently halting his compatriot’s voice.

“An escape, that’s what it is,” Barnabas informed the dead guard.

Ah
, Maddox thought. This must have been the part of the plan that Barnabas had neglected to share with him.

He glanced back and forth between the two men. “You know each other.”

“Yes, indeed.” Barnabas grinned, his teeth stark white in the middle of his dirty, bearded face. “This is my brother, Cyrus. Cyrus, this is Maddox.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Cyrus wiped the blood from his blade.

Maddox saw Becca appear through the ivy-covered wall to his left. She looked back at it in amazement. “You’re right. I can walk through walls. That’s useful.” She skidded to a halt at the sight of the dead guard, her eyes growing wide. “Um, the plan . . . ?”

“Went, uh, quite well?” Maddox replied. “Did you find the room?”

“Of course I did.” She tore her gaze from the fallen guard to meet his eyes, then gave him a weak smile that lightened his heart in a mere moment. “Did you expect me to fail?”

He returned the expression. “Not for a single moment.”

“Your spirit friend must certainly be a girl,” Barnabas observed. “That moony look on your face right now confirms it.”

Maddox’s smile fell, and he cast an impatient look at Barnabas. “We need to leave before the goddess returns.”

“Yes, excellent idea.” He clasped Cyrus’s gloved hand. “Much gratitude, brother.”

Cyrus gave Barnabas his sword and the dagger from the sheath at his side. “Take these weapons. I’ll send message when I can.”

With Becca leading the way, Maddox and Barnabas moved swiftly out of the throne room and along a narrow passageway.

“It’s not far,” Becca said. “Barnabas’s intel was right; it’s the only plain door in this entire hallway.”

All the doors they passed were carved with intricate, ornate patterns, but Barnabas had told her to look for an unadorned one. Plain oak.

“Stand back, my young friend,” Barnabas said. He kicked the door. The lock splintered and the door swung open.