A Book of Spirits and Thieves (31 page)

While both of them grappled to recover from the unexpected bursts of blinding light, Crys grabbed Becca’s hand. “Now.”

Jackie’s lesson number one wasn’t a specific karate chop or a roundhouse kick—some physical response to a violent threat. It had been much simpler than that.
When in doubt, GT-HO.

Get The Hell Out
.

Any way possible.

They sped down the tunnel until it finally brightened again, taking any turn they could. Left, right, left . . .

“I don’t know how to get out of here!” Crys managed. “Look for a door, anything.”

“There’s nothing here. Nothing!”

They ran around the next corner and skidded to a halt. A boy around Becca’s age stood in front of them holding a flashlight.

He beckoned to them. “You two, follow me.”

Crys hesitated. “Who are you?”

“No time to explain. Just hurry up, okay?” He turned and, without waiting another moment, started running down the tunnel.

“Works for me,” Becca said, tugging at Crys’s arm. “Come on.”

They raced to keep up with the boy as he weaved through the tunnels like they were second nature to him.

Finally, they came to an elevator. He pressed the button.

“This leads up to a restaurant,” he said.

“Why are you doing this?” Crys demanded. “Why are you helping us?”

But before he could answer, Farrell and Lucas skidded around the corner and came to a stop.

“There you are,” Farrell said, smirking. “Nice trick with the camera, by the way. I wouldn’t have expected . . .” He trailed off, a look of concern where his smirk used to be. “Adam? What the hell are you doing here?”

Crys looked back at the kid.
Adam?
Of course. Now she recognized him from that magazine photo spread. He was Adam Grayson, Farrell’s younger brother.

Adam glanced nervously at the elevator doors before facing his
brother, squaring off with him sternly. “This is wrong, Farrell. I know you can’t see it, that you’re all messed up, but it is.”

“You need to get out of here.” Farrell’s voice was low, his tone wracked with danger. “This isn’t your business.”

“It is my business.”

“Kid’s a troublemaker,” Lucas said, his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest. “Not good, Farrell. Control your brother.”

“Trying to.”

“Try harder. And as for you.” Lucas glared at Crys. “You need to learn your place.”

“Oh yeah?” She laughed in his face at his pompous statement. “Come closer and say that.”

“Crys . . . ,” Becca hissed.

But Lucas did come closer. Crys grabbed his shirt and brought her knee up as hard as she could, but he twisted out of the way before she could do any damage.

“Nice try.” And in an instant, he grabbed her face and slammed her back against the wall. “You think you’re so tough, but you’re nothing but a weak, insignificant girl. Are you going to force me to teach you a lesson right now?”

Before she could respond, he backhanded her, hard, making her ears ring.

“Enough. Let’s get them to Markus’s,” Farrell growled. “Adam, I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m not nearly finished yet,” Lucas replied. “Got to say a proper thanks to your girlfriend for breaking my nose.”

He shoved Crys again, this time smacking her face against the concrete surface. Her glasses broke. Pain reverberated through her whole body, and hot blood trickled down her forehead as she collapsed to the ground.

Lucas kicked her in the stomach and she cried out.

“Stop it!” Becca tried to grab his arm to pull him back, but he pushed her away with the slightest effort.

“I told you,
enough
,” Farrell snapped.

Crys looked up through a veil of pain. Her broken glasses lay in shards next to her, the left lens completely shattered.

“Lucas, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” It was Daniel Hatcher, walking toward them. He still had the Bronze Codex tucked under his arm.

“Your daughter doesn’t know how to behave,” Lucas explained. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

Daniel looked down at where she lay on the floor. “She’s always been a bit difficult. Stubborn and argumentative to a fault.”

“She sure is.”

“Hold this, please.” He handed the Codex to an annoyed-looking Farrell. “Lucas, I have to tell you something very important. Are you listening?”

“Sure.”

“If anyone hurts my daughter? I’ll kill them.”

He took Lucas’s head between his hands and twisted. The sound of his snapping neck echoed brutally off the walls.

Lucas fell to the ground beside Crys, his eyes still open, cold and staring.

Farrell took a step backward. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Excellent question,” her father said. He twisted the gold ring on his left index finger to reveal a short needle, then clapped his hand against Farrell’s neck.

Farrell stared out at them in shock before dropping to his knees, then crumpled over to his side, unconscious.

The elevator doors finally opened up.

“Get on the elevator. Adam, lead them out of here.” Daniel came to Crys’s side and helped her to her feet. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’ll survive,” she groaned. “What’s going on, Dad?”

“Markus has his inner circle monitor all the society members closely, unbeknownst to them. Adam, when I saw that your dagger mark wasn’t affecting you properly, that you still had doubts about Markus and Hawkspear, I knew that what was happening to you was the same thing that happened to Julia. Girls, your mother wasn’t totally affected by the marks, either. Those who have a natural resistance to Markus’s magic are appalled by what happens here. It’s slowly made me question the validity of my loyalty to this man. To his mission. What I feel, what I think, what I believe . . . it’s all wrong. I’ve been corrupted by his magic. I know that now with more certainty than ever before.”

Hope welled in Crys’s chest. “So does that mean you can break away from him now that you’re thinking clearly again?”

“No. My thoughts are still as unclear and unreliable. I’m afraid the marks continue to affect me deeply, just as they’re meant to. I chose the society, Crissy, because what Markus has done to me has made me complicit in his actions. But what I’ve seen over the last week . . . after you became involved in all this . . . somehow it’s managed to wake me up from a very long slumber. I couldn’t let him hurt you or Becca.” He gently squeezed Becca’s hand. “And I won’t let you follow me down this path of darkness. Get out of here while you still can. And take this.” He grabbed the Codex off the floor and handed it to Crys. “If it’s true that Markus will die without it, then let him die.”

Crys clutched his hand as he helped her into the elevator. “Come with us.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve made my choice.” He stroked her cheek, then reached over to do the same to Becca. “I love you—both of you. Please, never forget that.”

The elevator doors closed.

Chapter 28

FARRELL

W
hen Farrell came to, Daniel Hatcher was still standing next to Lucas’s dead body. He thought for sure the man was waiting to kill him, too.

“Let’s go see Markus,” Daniel said instead. “I’ll tell him Lucas was to blame for everything. The escape, the stolen book. Everything.”

“Why would I lie about that to protect you?”

“Because I don’t think you want your brother’s name dragged into this.”

What the hell was Adam doing here?
Farrell thought.

Farrell pushed up from the ground. “Fine. You do the talking.”

“I will.”

Daniel and Farrell stood before Markus, who sat at his desk in the library. Daniel had the immortal’s full attention as he related his side of the story.

“We’ll get your Codex back,” Daniel finished. “I swear we will.”

Markus’s expression was unreadable, but getting the book he’d wanted more than anything and then losing it again in record time . . .

Farrell knew he had to be absolutely livid.

“I never would have predicted Mr. Barrington’s betrayal tonight,” Markus said evenly. “But I certainly agree that his death was earned and deserved.”

Farrell relied on the cool steadiness of Markus’s marks to keep from fixating on what had really happened. He focused on his breathing, slow and steady, on his mind, clear and calm.

If Markus asked him, point-blank, what had happened, he had decided to tell the truth.

He would beg for his brother’s forgiveness and hope Markus would be lenient.

“Two things still trouble me, Daniel.” Markus rested his elbows on the desk and joined his fingertips together in a temple.

“Which are?”

“What could have possibly motivated Lucas to help two girls he didn’t even know? And even if Mr. Barrington were, in some kind of stroke-like fit of irrational empathy, to assist your two daughters in escaping out of sheer kindness and goodwill, why in the world would he let them get away with the very book he knows I need?”

“I don’t know what came over Lucas,” Daniel replied. “And I didn’t bother to ask him before I broke his neck.”

Markus nodded. “Perhaps I didn’t phrase my questions correctly. You know this already, but Mr. Grayson does not, that there’s an aspect of the marks that can be very helpful. Whenever I ask someone who bears two or more of my marks a direct question, they will be compelled to answer truthfully.”

Farrell’s chest tightened.

“So let’s try again, shall we? Did you have any part in helping Crystal and Rebecca escape?”

Daniel’s jaw tensed as if he were fighting the compulsion to answer. “Yes,” he finally grunted.

“I see. And am I to understand that you’ve begun to fight against the marks I’ve given you?”

“Yes.” The word was a hiss.

“If I were to give you the option, given the extenuating circumstances that have come to light, would you wish to leave my society and return to your family?”

“Yes.”

Markus continued to show not a hint of emotion, whether he found these answers shocking or not.

“One last question, Daniel.” Markus leaned back in his chair, regarding the man before him with narrowed eyes. “Is Rebecca Hatcher my daughter?”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “What? Is she—?” He shook his head, as if trying to give an adamant denial, but the words didn’t come out. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“No,” Markus replied. “I didn’t suppose you would.”

Markus stepped out from behind his desk and stood before one of his most loyal circle members. “You betrayed me tonight. You, whom I trusted more than anyone else.”

Daniel said nothing, his jaw hardening to a defiant line.

“What do you think, Mr. Grayson?” Markus asked. “What judgment shall we pass on this man who has put everything I stand for at risk? Who has worked against me to deny me something I need to continue watching over this world to keep it safe from evil? What should our verdict be?”

Farrell glanced back and forth between the two. Suddenly, he felt like he was in a society meeting.

“Guilty,” he said.

“And what punishment does a guilty verdict incur?”

Farrell’s mouth felt dry. “Death.”

Markus opened the wooden box on his desk and drew out his golden dagger.

Daniel eyed it, his expression resolute but tight with inner turmoil. “They’re my family, Markus,” he choked out. “I had no other choice but to try to protect them.”

“I know.” Markus regarded the blade before placing it into Farrell’s hand. The golden hilt was cool against his hot skin.

“Markus?” Farrell asked, uncertain.

“Show me you’re worthy of taking his place,” Markus said simply. “I need someone by my side in whom I can believe.”

Farrell looked to Daniel, who stared back at him with an expression of placid strength.

He waited for Daniel to confess everything to save his skin, to say Adam had really been the one to rescue the girls, not him or Lucas. He waited for Daniel to implicate him.

“Go ahead,” Daniel said instead. “Do it. But always remember: I once stood where you are right now.”

It sounded like an omen. Like a curse.

Was this who Farrell had become? Did Markus’s marks control his actions? All he knew for sure was that this choice he now had to make, with the cool weight of the golden blade in his grip, would define him forever.

It’s too much
, he thought.
I can’t kill him
.
This isn’t who I am.

He swore he dropped the weapon, but he didn’t hear it clatter to the floor.

It was still in his hand.

He thought of his tattoo of the movie quote:
Bright is life. Dark is death.
It meant to choose good over evil, even in one’s darkest moment. But it seemed he had no choice anymore. And part of him, the larger part that wasn’t screaming far off in the distance, didn’t seem to care.

Farrell locked gazes with Daniel as he thrust the blade into his chest. Daniel gasped but didn’t cry out. The life slowly faded from his eyes until the last flicker went out.

He pulled out the knife, and Daniel’s body slumped to the floor.

Red blood dripped from the tip of the dagger.

Suddenly, the air was charged with magic. It pulsed with the same energy that always invigorated Farrell after the Hawkspear trials. And other than that, Farrell felt . . . nothing. No remorse. No regret.

Still, one singular thought from that small and distant version of himself did manage to eke its way to the surface.

What’s happened to me?

Markus nodded. “Very good, Mr. Grayson. Give me the dagger.”

With only the slightest of hesitations, he did as instructed, and Markus wiped the blade off on a cloth.

“Now give me your arm.”

Farrell obeyed, pulling back his shirtsleeve.

“You have proved yourself well to me tonight,” Markus said as he carved the third mark into Farrell’s flesh.

This time, Farrell barely felt any pain.

“Tell me, Mr. Grayson, have you come to care for Crystal Hatcher?” Markus asked.

The truth escaped him before he could stop it. “Yes.”

“Did you help her escape tonight?”

“No.”

“Good.” The mark finished, fresh blood now dripping to the floor to mingle with that of Daniel Hatcher’s, Markus gripped Farrell’s arm and healed him.

What gifts would the third mark bring? He could barely wait to find out.

“She’s become a serious problem,” Markus said. “For you, for me. For all of us.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Markus watched him carefully for any flinch, any sign of distress. “If I asked you to, if I decided it would be the best decision for the future of Hawkspear and for my mission . . . would you kill her?”

Farrell held his leader’s gaze steadily as the distant scream of the boy he used to be faded away to a mere whisper.

“Yes, Markus. I would.”