The Darkest Magic (A Book of Spirits and Thieves) (8 page)

“Well, that would be rather embarrassing. For you, of course.”

Crys finally willed herself to focus enough to cast a glare in his direction. He leaned against the wall, right next to the photo of the old woman, studying Crys as if she were a piece in the exhibit as well. That half smile she’d come to loathe was firmly fixed on his lips.

“Stalking me, are you?” she said. “Are you on your own this time? Or are you here under order from your lord and master?”

“
Me
, stalking
you
?” He raised his brow. “And here I thought it was the other way around.”

Crys scoffed. “Ha! As if it’s a coincidence that you came to this exact show at the exact same time I’m here.”

“Vanity, thy name is Crystal Hatcher,” Farrell said, shaking his head and gazing around the room. “Actually, I’m here for a friend. And with a friend.”

“Sure you are.” Crys scanned the crowd, searching for her mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Damn.
She knew coming here had been a mistake. “Get away from me.”

“Are you a fan of this photographer? Or do you just stop by all the shows?”

“I said,
Get away from me
. What language do I need to say it in for you to understand?” Farrell ignited within her such an odd mix of emotions—fear and hatred, blended with about three times as much sheer annoyance. But she didn’t underestimate how dangerous he was.

And where was her mother?

Farrell took his eyes off Crys and set his gaze somewhere behind her. “Andrea!” he called. “Andrea, stop for a sec. I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

Slowly, her stomach a pit of gravel, Crys turned around. Walking toward them was none other than Andrea Stone.

“This is Crystal Hatcher,” Farrell said. “She’s quite young but already an accomplished photographer. Crys, this is Andrea Stone.”

“May I call you Crys too?” Andrea Stone held out her hand, a smile on her ruby red lips. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Crys was frozen. She was in front of her idol, with a chance to say anything she wanted, and she had absolutely no idea how to respond.

Somehow, as if an invisible puppeteer were controlling her muscles, she grasped the hand of her idol.

“I’m such a fan of your work,” Crys managed to sputter out, still unable to truly believe that it was Andrea Stone herself standing right in front of her.

“Thank you,” Andrea said. She put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder. “You’re one of Farrell’s friends?”

Crys knew that her mouth was moving, but words refused to come out.

“
Close
friends,” Farrell replied with a smirk. “In fact, I don’t mean to brag, but I was the one who convinced Crys to finally try digital photography. She’s a modern girl, but old school in so many ways.”

“Oh?” Andrea said. “You worked primarily in film before, then?”

Crys found herself nodding. “It’s how I learned. Black-and-white only. With a manual Pentax from the eighties.”

“And you develop it yourself?”

She nodded again, which made her wonder if she’d ever stopped. “In the bathtub. My mom hates it.”

Andrea grinned. “My mother didn’t like it either—I did the same thing when I was your age. Trust me, Crys, if you want to be a photographer, it’s best to know every aspect of the art. So many people rely on digital photography now, but my favorite camera is still the one I’ve had for over forty years. There’s a kind of purity in the act of taking a photo and not knowing exactly how it will look until it develops in the chemicals. Sure, you can set up a composition, but with film there’s always a surprise with the finished product.”

“I totally agree.”

Andrea grasped Crys’s hand again. “Thank you so much for coming to my show.”

“Thank you for . . . for being
you
.”

With another smile and a squeeze of Crys’s hand, Andrea wandered off into the crowd.

“
Thank you for being you
,” Farrell repeated. “That’s so adorable I want to frame it.”

Crys turned a cold glare on him. “What do you want?”

“Other than to introduce you to a woman I’ve known since before I could walk who also happens to be your idol? Hmm, well, I do always love a nice glass of complimentary champagne. I think they’ve got some over there in the corner.”

“Stop playing dumb. I honestly wouldn’t care if you introduced me to the Queen of England—I’d still scream my head off if it meant getting rid of you.”

“Crys, Crys, Crys. I know that things were a bit unfriendly and angsty when we last parted ways, but that doesn’t mean we can’t patch our burgeoning friendship back together.”

“Where’s Markus?” she asked bluntly, her stomach churning. “And where is my mother? Are you just trying to distract me so he can get to her?”

“Markus isn’t here. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the night two little blond mice escaped a maze and scurried off into the darkness.” Finally, his smug expression eased off, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “Even I’ll admit that was a rough night. And I know you were just trying to protect your sister.”

She laughed, but it came out humorless and sounded more like a cough. “Do you? Well, that changes everything between us, doesn’t it?”

“How is Becca?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Fair enough. And what about the Codex? Is Aunt Jackie keeping it nice and safe in your hiding spot you all think is so safe and secure?”

Crys didn’t reply; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of
thinking he’d rattled her. Her mother already told her that hiding wasn’t an option, that Markus could find them wherever they went, so why should she care or be surprised that Farrell might know the truth?

“I’m going to tell you something, Crys. As a friend,” he continued. “When the time comes—and it will come—that Markus shows up for the book, do yourself a big favor and give it to him. He hasn’t just forgotten about it, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“Where’s my father?” Crys asked, making a conscious choice not to indulge anything Farrell said.

And perhaps her method was working: This time, Farrell was the one not to respond immediately. He cocked his head. “Worried about him, are you?”

“What happened to him that night?”

“You mean the night he betrayed Markus, gave you the book, and let you escape?”

“Actually,” Crys said, “it was mainly your brother Adam who helped us escape. Call me crazy, but I don’t think Markus would like very much to hear that one of his youngest followers disrespected him like that, would he? I’m going to go ahead and assume you didn’t tell on him. But, then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you are that much of a monster. How is your little brother doing these days anyway?”

Farrell’s smile went cold at the edges. “Adam’s just fine, thanks.”

Crys narrowed her eyes. “Where’s my father?”

“All I know is that he’s not in Toronto anymore. And that if you’ve been expecting to hear from him anytime soon, don’t hold your breath. Markus wouldn’t be happy if he were to find out you two had been in touch—unless it was for you to hand over the Codex to him to give it back to its rightful owner, that is.”

She felt a weight sink down on her chest. Part of her had hoped
that Farrell might know something that would ease her mind about her father. What a laugh. “My father stuck a needle in your neck,” she said. “Why would he be talking to you about where he is and what his plans are? I’m sure you’re not exactly best buds.”

“Never were. Actually, I didn’t even know he existed until very recently. Until I met you, as a matter of fact. We’re connected in so many ways, Crys. We’re tangled together like an intricate web.”

“A web of lies, maybe.”

“So clever.” His gaze grew serious again as his gaze moved over her. “You have new glasses, just like the ones that broke.”

Crys pushed them up the bridge of her nose. “I had a second pair.”

She expected him to make a comment about how ugly they were, but he didn’t.

“I want you to know that I’m sorry I didn’t stop Lucas from hurting you,” he said instead. “There. I said it.”

Crys stared at him, totally bemused. “Oh my God. An apology for letting your fellow minion kick the crap out of me. Well, in that case, all is forgiven.”

“Wow. I’m standing here, trying to be earnest, and you hit me with the sarcasm stick. You’re cruel.” He managed the edge of a smile as he studied her even closer. “I can’t help but notice your strawberry scent is gone. What was it again? Some kind of soap? You should buy more. I miss it.”

She could never tell when he was mocking her, but right now she was going to err on the side of caution. “And your grotesque birthmark is gone. I
don’t
miss that.”

He brushed his fingers over his right cheek, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Had it removed. Been meaning to do that for, oh, nineteen years or so.”

Too bad. She’d actually liked it. It made him look different and more interesting than the average insanely gorgeous rich kid, not that she’d admit that in a million years.

“I’m not here to mess with your head, Crys,” he said, leaning in just a little. “But those pesky grains of sand are slipping through the hourglass, and soon Markus will be finished licking his wounds and come back for more. And when that happens, I won’t be able to protect you if you get in the way.”

Every sentence he spoke was a surprise. “Protect me?” Crys said. “I’d be shocked if the thought of doing that even crossed your mind.”

“You think I’m an evil bastard, that Markus has messed with my head and poisoned me with magic, but you’re wrong. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a jerk, that I’ve hurt people, but I swear I mean no harm to brave girls who just want to protect their families.”

Was he being serious now? He sounded sincere enough. He’d even temporarily lost his trademark smirk.

Crys found herself speechless again.

Had Adam been right? Was the real Farrell Grayson still in there, somewhere that Markus’s magic couldn’t touch?

“Farrell?” A female voice cut between them. “Who is this?”

Crys watched Farrell tear his gaze away, and finally she remembered how to breathe.

A blond girl approached them and stood next to Farrell. She was tall, thin, and impeccably dressed. The only feature that marred her model-like looks was her sharp nose, down which she stared at Crys.

“Felicity Seaton,” Farrell finally said with an introductory flick of his hand, “this is Crys Hatcher.”

“A friend of yours?” Felicity asked crisply.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he replied. The smirk had returned, right on schedule.

Crys met Felicity’s sour look full-on. “I’m not his ex. He’s lying. He does that a lot. We went on, what? One or two substandard dates?”

“I’ll always have memories of eating sushi with you.”

Felicity forced a smile. “I despise raw fish.”

“Not all sushi is raw . . . ,” Crys began to explain, but then decided she didn’t care enough to expend the energy.

“Actually, Crys and I are in a book club together now. She borrowed a book from a friend of mine, and he really, really wants it back.”

Every muscle in Crys’s body grew tense.

“How quaint,” Felicity replied, and Crys could practically feel the chill emanating off of her icy tone.

“Don’t worry,” Crys told her. “I’m no competition to you or . . . whatever this is between you two. Actually, I hate Farrell. Besides, he much prefers girls from Hawkspear than ones from the real world.”

“Hawkspear?” Felicity repeated, frowning. “What is that? Some kind of sorority?”

Crys stared at her, surprise filling her eyes.

Farrell took Felicity by her elbow and began directing her toward the refreshment table. “Marvelous to see you again, Crys,” he said as he hurried away. “I’m sure our paths will cross again very soon.”

“Only in my nightmares,” she replied, smiling for having succeeded in making him nervous.

As soon as they had disappeared into the crowd, Crys turned to search the room for her mother. She actively stifled all the anxiety
and fear for her mother’s safety that Farrell’s presence stirred, and she sighed in relief when she spotted her near the entryway. She was only now finishing her oh-so-important phone call as Crys scurried over and made her put down her full glass of white wine.

They left the gallery as fast as they could.

BECCA

T
he spirit was watching her.

Or at least what Becca
thought
was a spirit. The spirit she’d seen Maddox summon back in Mytica had had a more human shape than whatever it was she saw down in the study. Maddox’s spirit was also shrouded in darkness, but it did have legs, arms, a head, and a torso—all things her inky black blob lacked.

It had been a whole day now since that dark being had escaped from the bronze hawk. Where Becca went, it followed, staying in the corners. Not coming any closer to her, but never leaving her line of sight.

It was like a scary puppy.

“What do you want?” she demanded of it now, but like always, she received no response.

Her fear had faded a little since it first appeared, and now she was left with nothing but questions. Questions a blob of darkness didn’t seem all that interested in answering.

If it wasn’t a spirit, then what was it? A dark little raincloud that had come down from the sky to be her roommate?

The thought reminded her of the powers Maddox had given to
her: a tiny cloud of his death magic that had mixed with the book’s gateway magic. It had been enough to bring her spirit back home and reunite it with her body.

The shadow crept a few inches toward her. She took a step backward, and it crept toward her again, even closer this time. She leaped away from it, but then, taking the form of a thick black ribbon of smoke, the shadow slithered along the floor, giving her a wide berth, and moved toward the door. It appeared to hesitate, swirling around in a circle for a moment before leaving the room entirely. Becca waited, holding her breath, until it appeared again, peeking around the edge of the door frame.

Becca glanced at Charlie, who was curled up on her bed, fast asleep and snoring. The kitten was no help at all.

“What?” she asked the shadow, as if it might actually answer her this time. “Do you want me to . . . follow you?”

It waited in place until Becca drew closer. She walked across the room, slowly, until she followed her instinct and trailed after it at a faster clip.

“Well, if I wasn’t certifiable before, I definitely am now,” she told herself, feeling strangely giddy rather than scared, as if she were close to laughing. “They’re going to put me in a straitjacket for talking to shadows.”

The inky presence led her downstairs. The curtains were partially drawn over the glass doors leading to the balcony where Jackie and Dr. Vega were now standing. Jackie was smoking a cigarette, which Becca knew her aunt only did when stressed out.

The shadow paused when she paused, and then slithered right into the study. She glanced in through the open door to see it swirling on the floor right in front of the desk.

“I have a funny feeling I know exactly what you’re trying to
show me,” she whispered. “But Dr. Vega locked you-know-what up so I wouldn’t touch it again.”

It started swirling more quickly now.

Becca hissed out a breath and glanced toward the balcony again, where Jackie and Dr. Vega still stood looking very engaged in conversation. She knew Crys and her mother were at the photo show, which meant she had eyes on all the penthouse guests and didn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting her. Finally, she moved toward the desk and tried the top drawer. “See? Just like I said. It’s locked, and I have no idea where the key is.”

The shadowy ribbon curled around the desk leg, snaked up toward the drawer, and disappeared through a crack. It reappeared, pouring out of the keyhole, and returned to the ground.

Becca watched, mouth slightly ajar, and then tried the drawer again. She was not exactly surprised to find that it now slid open easily.

And there it was. The bronze hawk glinted under the desk lamp’s meager light. Regarding it now was like staring at the sun—she knew very well she shouldn’t do it, that it wasn’t good for her, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had grasped the Codex and pulled it out of the drawer. Upon contact, that strange but pleasant shiver moved up her arms, but this time no other magical sensation followed.

They all wanted to keep her away from it, but the book refused to let that happen.

It needs me
, Becca said to herself.

She frowned. What a bizarre thought.

“But for what?” she mused aloud. Tentatively, after taking a deep breath, she opened the cover. This was the first chance she’d had
to really look at the Codex without interruption. She knew Jackie would be furious if she caught her, so she had to be quick about it.

It wasn’t as if she had a choice, though. This wasn’t a decision. It was a
compulsion
.

She turned the pages swiftly but delicately, and once again she was instantly enchanted by the fragile, almost weightless, feel of the paper. The pages were filled with beautiful, indecipherable black-and-gold writing and colorful illustrations rendered with a fine hand.

“As if being a book of otherworldly spells isn’t enough, now it seems you and your shadowy little friend over there are trying to tell me you’re something more than that. So then what
are
you?”

Just then, Becca saw the words on the page start to move. Her breath caught in her chest.

No—they weren’t
moving
, exactly. They were
changing
. They were transforming into other words, rewriting themselves before her very eyes. Then, an illustration of a small rabbit-like animal turned on profile started shifting as well, until the creature was turned forward to face Becca, its beady little eyes staring right at her.

She heard a hissing sound behind her and started. She turned to the doorway to see Charlie, his back arched, slinking his way inside the room. She followed the cat’s gaze downward until she saw the shadow there at her feet. It had curled itself around her ankle.

Becca let out a harsh gasp of surprise, and then—

A rabbit-like animal, just like the illustration in the book, appeared in the room. It was right in front of her, sitting in a green field and chewing on a plant that looked like a bright pink clover. Beyond the field, sparkling under a bright sun, was the same majestic crystal city she’d seen the last time she’d touched the book.

The animal took off like a shot. Becca spun around to see what had startled it, and her eyes widened with horror.

In the distance, the ground was crumbling. It was falling away into an endless abyss, leaving nothing in its wake. The devastation grew closer and closer to her until the ground just in front of where she was standing began to fall away into a vast, dark emptiness.

Before Becca could scream, the view in front of her changed. It shifted and whirled all around her in a blur of colors and textures and motion until finally she was able to get a sense of her new surroundings. Instead of the dim study, she now stood in the middle of a crowd gathered in the shadow of a tall black palace.

“That, I’m very sorry to say, was the goddess’s scribe,” said a strangely familiar voice. Becca turned toward it to find the source.

She could barely believe what was right in front of her. It was Camilla, the Mytican witch who’d helped Maddox and Barnabas in their attempt to defeat Valoria.

“Curse it,” said another voice. “So now what do we do?”

Maddox.

Becca shot her disbelieving gaze to the dark-haired boy with the warm, bottomless brown eyes, who saw her, heard her,
helped
her, when no one else could. She stared at him, stunned.

“Maddox,” Becca managed to say through a choked voice. “Maddox, it’s me!”

Maddox turned, and Becca’s heart leaped. But he’d turned to look at Barnabas, whose handsome, short-bearded face was the same as Becca remembered.

The older man looked grim as he gazed back at Maddox. “Give me a moment to think.”

“Think about what?” Maddox said. “That source of yours, the only one who knew how to bring an end to Her Radiance, is now nothing more than a head mounted upon a spike! What’s there to think about?”

Becca looked up, toward the palace, and what she saw there turned her stomach. Stuck on the top of a spike on a balcony was the severed head of a youngish man.

“This is such a horrible place,” she whispered, closing her eyes and shuddering. “It’s like a horror movie here, everywhere you turn.”

“We’ll begin our search for the princess anyway,” Barnabas said. “Proof of King Thaddeus’s heir’s existence will draw new interest to the rebel cause.”

“And with no proof to back this discovery up, all we’ll get are more rebels killed,” Camilla added, nervously twisting a glass vial filled with liquid that she wore on a thin leather rope around her neck. “My, Barnabas, what an excellent plan. Come now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

“And what would you suggest?” he countered. “Should we go ahead and demand information from a severed head?”

“Yes,” Maddox said a moment later. “I think that’s exactly what we should do.”

Suddenly, a voice cried out, so loud that it rang in Becca’s ears, forcing her to close her eyes and cower right there in the village square.

“God damn it, Becca!” It was her aunt Jackie. “What are you doing in here?”

Like the blinking of a television changing channels, Maddox, Barnabas, and Camilla flickered away. Becca was back in the study, where she realized with dismay that her aunt was now holding the Bronze Codex, staring at Becca with outrage blazing in her blue eyes.

Becca could barely catch her breath. For a moment she thought that she’d actually returned to Mytica, but now she saw that she hadn’t even taken a single step away from the desk.

The shadow had unwound itself from her ankle and retreated to the corner of the room, where it looked like nothing more than a spot of inky blackness.

“Answer me, damn it!” Jackie slammed the book down on the desk.

“Don’t do that!” Becca snarled, her own fury suddenly exploding from deep within. She was sick and tired of being told what to do and reprimanded when she didn’t do it. “Don’t hurt it, or you’ll be sorry!”

Jackie drew in a shaky breath. “What’s gotten into you? Why would you risk even
touching
this thing again? You know how dangerous it is—especially to you!”

Dr. Vega entered the room, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. “Oh dear,” he said, taking in the scene in front of him. “What happened?”

Jackie shot him a steely look. “Oh, nothing. Just happened to find my niece messing with fate to find her boyfriend from another world.”

Becca gaped at her. “You think that’s why I—?” She was so angry she could barely form words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? This has nothing to do with that! Maybe I want to know
why
that book is so dangerous to me! Why does it affect me and nobody else?”

Crys and her mother appeared at the doorway, worried expressions on both of their faces.

“What’s going on in here?” Julia said.

“Becca can’t seem to stay away from this thing.” Jackie flung her hand toward the Codex, the gesture filled with equal parts fear and annoyance. “It’s like she’s
addicted
to it or something.”

“Seriously?” Becca said, Jackie’s flippant explanation only infuriating her further. “You have no idea what it really is, do you? No idea at all.”

“And you do?” Dr. Vega asked, snatching up a pen and notepad from the desktop. “Please, tell me all about what you’ve experienced. Your testimony might be all I need to figure this conundrum out.”

“You
can’t
figure it out,” Becca growled. “None of you can. This kind of magic is so far beyond the brain capacity of mere mortals . . . that I . . . I literally can’t even explain it to you.”

“Whoa, Becca,” Crys said, approaching Becca warily and peering at her with concern. “Are you okay? You’re talking seriously crazy.”

“Maybe I’m the only one who’s sane around here.” She heard the words leave her mouth, but she had no idea why she said them or if she believed them. In truth, she didn’t know much more about what the book really was than Dr. Vega and Jackie, and she certainly didn’t know enough to make such a lofty, pompous statement. All she had was a hunch that the Codex was something more than the book of spells that everyone believed it was.

“Let me see that thing,” Julia said as she reached for the book. Without hesitation, Jackie hefted it up off the desk and gave it to her. “Thank you.” Julia looked down at the Codex and frowned. “I can’t tell you how sick I am of this damn thing. From the moment I first learned it existed it’s caused nothing but problems.” She turned and left the room.

Jackie trailed after her. “Where are you going with it?”

Julia stopped in the hallway and said, “I’m going to give it to Markus.”

Becca’s eyes widened with shock. She was the first to follow Jackie out the door, but soon Vega and Crys followed.

They all chased after Julia, who walked steadily toward the front door.

“Did you say you were going somewhere with the book?” Becca
asked hoarsely as Julia grabbed her coat and purse. “To take it to
Markus
?”

“Markus needs this. So badly that he’s willing to
kill
for it. Has been for the last twenty years. So let’s let him have it. Why would we want something like this anywhere near us? Maybe then he’ll leave us alone for good.”

“Mom, have you lost your mind?” Crys said.

“Not even a touch. In fact, I’m finally thinking straight. I’m finally doing what needs to be done.”

“You’re not taking that book out of this house,” Jackie snapped.

“Yes, I am.”

“No. I won’t let you.”

Julia pulled a gun out of her purse. She pointed it at Jackie, who stopped in her tracks. “If you try to stop me, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Mom!” Becca shouted. “What are you doing?”

Julia turned the gun on Becca, whose heart leaped into her throat as she stared down the barrel.

“I’ll kill you too,” Julia said, an eerie calmness in her voice.

The moment was frozen in place, like a horrifying snapshot, right in front of Becca’s eyes.

“Mom,” Crys said, her tone stern but gentle as she dared to break the silence. “This isn’t you. Please, don’t do this. You don’t want to hurt Becca. You don’t want to hurt any of us.”