A Book of Spirits and Thieves

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



When 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.