A Book of Spirits and Thieves

Her mother arrived within the hour and gave her a tight hug. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered into Crys’s hair.

Then she disappeared into Becca’s room. It was a while before the doctor left, and Crys brushed past him to go inside. Her mother sat in the chair next to the bed.

Becca’s eyes were still open, and she stared straight ahead. Every now and then she blinked.

“Becca?” Crys ventured.

“I don’t think she can hear you,” her mother replied softly. “It’s getting late. You should go home.”

Crys ignored her. She went to Becca’s side and gently took her hand, cringing at the sight of the IV inserted into a vein and covered with tape.

“You told the doctor there was a book,” her mother began.

“There was. There . . . there is.”

“I know. I went to the shop before I came here and put it somewhere safe.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You shouldn’t have opened that package, Crys. It wasn’t addressed to you.”

Her mother’s calm demeanor infuriated her. “No kidding. Message received, loud and clear. But I thought the worst I’d get was a paper cut, not . . . not this. What is this, Mom? What’s happened to Becca?”

Julia Hatcher’s lips thinned. “Jackie never should have sent that thing to the store.”

That thing? “There was something in that book. Something . . .” Crys shook her head, trying to remember clearly. “I didn’t recognize the language. It was old, ancient-looking, strange. And it literally glowed when Becca was holding it. The note from Jackie inside said that you know what that book is, so just tell me. Tell me so we can help Becca.”

Crys waited for her mother to laugh and remind her that she’d been ignoring her sister’s existence lately, but here Crys was, refusing to leave her side as if they were inseparable.

She wouldn’t need the reminder that she’d been a lousy sister lately—ever since their dad left—but it didn’t mean she’d ever want anything bad to happen to Becca.

But her mother didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead, she let out another shaky breath. “Please, Crys. Go home. Get some sleep. Let me handle this.”

“But why won’t you tell me anything even though you know what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. There’s nothing I can tell you right now that could help.”

Crys sighed. She knew she wasn’t going to get anything else from her mother tonight. Julia Hatcher was every bit as stubborn as she was.

“Fine, whatever.” Crys stood up, still touching Becca’s hand, her attention now fully on her sister.

She knew she’d let Becca down countless times in the last couple of years when she’d needed a sister’s support and attention. She wouldn’t let her down this time. She had to learn more about that book.



On the way home, Crys bought some sushi—a spider roll, which was actually made with crab. Once, she’d jokingly told Becca it was made with real spiders. The horrified look on Becca’s face had made her howl with laughter at the time.

Tonight, she only picked at the food for an hour before she finally threw it into the trash.

It was after midnight by the time her mother got home. Crys was in bed but wide awake, Charlie’s small, furry body curled up next to her. Julia came by her room, pushing the door open to look inside. Crys pretended to be asleep, lost in a pile of sheets, blankets, and cat. The door closed a moment later, shutting out the sliver of light from the hallway, leaving only the glow of the clock radio for her to stare at.

Over and over in her mind, she tried to remember exactly what had happened. Opening the package, paging through the book. Touching the bronze bird on the cover, the smooth brown leather. Walking it to the back, handing it to Becca . . .

The page of strange gold writing that started to glow. The glow in Becca’s eyes. Then it was as if the golden writing itself had reached out and grabbed her. . . .

But that was impossible. Things like that didn’t happen in real life.

The phone rang, and Crys jumped as the unexpected sound cut through the darkness.

Maybe it’s the hospital. She grabbed for the phone next to her bed and held it to her ear.

Before she could say anything, she heard her mother’s harsh whisper. “You shouldn’t be calling the landline.”

“I don’t have my cell. This is the only number I know by heart.” It was her aunt Jackie.

Crys’s heart skipped a beat, and she moved her hand across the mouthpiece so she wouldn’t be heard.

“What’s going on?” Jackie asked. “You sounded frantic in your message.”

“Frantic, yes. I’m definitely frantic. Your package arrived today.”