A Book of Spirits and Thieves

Finally, Markus held out his hand and took the phone. He flicked his wrist at Farrell. “Leave me. All of you. Now.”


“Let’s go,” Farrell said. His grip on her was crushing, and she almost dropped her bag as he pulled her off the stage. Lucas took Becca’s arm and guided her toward the exit to the tunnels.

They descended the spiral staircase, then started down a tunnel forking in a different direction than where they’d come in.

“I’m waiting for you to try to appeal to my softer side again,” Farrell said after a few moments. “Feel free to give it a shot.”

“I know now that it’s a waste of my time,” she replied.

“It’s too bad you can’t see the benefit of everything Markus has to offer. It would make everything easier.”

“That’s my goal, Farrell. To make everything easier.” She tried her best to ignore him and focus on her sister. “How are you feeling, Becca?”

“I’ve been better,” her sister admitted.

This section of the maze-like tunnels had only a few fluorescent lights set into the ceiling to guide their way before they were plunged into inky darkness. Perhaps this was a less traveled section of Markus’s subterranean maze? She kept looking to her left, to her right, trying to see anything, any clue to help her untangle herself from this mess and escape with Becca.

Escape.

Yes, that was definitely the magic word.

“Hey, Becca, remember last summer, when Jackie gave us a few lessons?” Crys whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember lesson number one?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I have a few lessons I can teach you, Becca,” Lucas said. “Just let me know when and where.”

There was no mistaking his leering tone. “She’s only fifteen, you creep.”

His only response in the darkness was a withering laugh.

Crys nudged Becca again, reminding her of the self-defense question.

“Well? My brain isn’t a computer like yours,” Crys said.

“She called it the git-ho.”

Git-ho? Crys strained her memory for the next dozen steps she took.

Then it dawned on her.

She actually laughed under her breath, but it came out more as a dry cough. “How could I have forgotten that?”

Becca met her gaze and nodded.

“Be ready,” Crys told her firmly.

“Stop talking,” Farrell snapped.

Lucas and Farrell walked swiftly and with certainty while the girls stumbled along with them through the darkness.

“Once you get the marks, you’ll be able to see as well as we can,” Farrell said. “And you won’t need to wear those ugly glasses anymore.”

“They’re not ugly.”

“Yes, they are. Like, super-ugly.”

“You didn’t like my old camera, either, so you clearly have terrible taste.”

“I like your new one much better.”

“Right.” She fished into her bag, knowing that he could see her in the darkness with his improved vision. “Well, I do have to admit one thing about it. . . .”

“What’s that?”

“It’s nice to finally have a flash.” She held the camera up to his face and pressed the shutter, sending a piercingly bright light flashing directly into his eyes.

Farrell clamped his hands over his eyes and roared in pain. Lucas lunged for Crys’s arm, but before he could reach her, she flashed his sensitive eyes as well.

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?”