A Book of Spirits and Thieves

“Really?” Suddenly, he was hopeful that he and his mother didn’t have as much distance between them as he’d thought. Maybe she understood him, understood what he’d gone through. Understood the nightmares he’d had to endure nearly every night since finding Connor’s body.

“Yes, really. With Connor, I had such high hopes—that he would be a famous artist, that he’d soon get married and give me grandchildren. That he’d carry on the Grayson name. For Adam, his teachers say he has an incredible mind, that he’s meant for medicine, law, business. Whatever he chooses, they believe he’ll be successful. But you . . .” Her discerning gaze swept him from head to toe. “I have no reason to think you’ll ever amount to anything of note. Therefore, I expect very little from you.”

Farrell’s throat was raw from listening to her little speech. “Thanks so much for clearing that up for me, Mother.”

He stood there, dumbfounded, as she left the room. He wasn’t sure why her words had blindsided him. He already knew what she thought of her middle-born son: nothing at all.

This only proved it.

He swept a gaze through Connor’s room one last time before he went back to his own.

“What the hell do I care?” he muttered to himself, angry now. “Her opinion means nothing to me.”

Back in his bedroom, he checked his phone to see he had a text message from Lucas.

Markus will meet with you tonight at 8.

Markus’s inner circle.

It might be a secret inside of another secret, but it was something special and überexclusive. It was proof that Farrell wasn’t nothing, wasn’t nobody. That he’d been chosen by a powerful, enigmatic man to be included in something incredible.

Something Connor had been a part of before his death.

Something that would show his mother that he wasn’t as worthless as she believed.





Chapter 9


MADDOX



The sound of a slap and the sting of pain drew him out of the darkness. He sucked in a big mouthful of air and sat up sharply.

Someone held him by the front of his shirt. Another slap brought more clarity.

Livius. It was Livius who was hitting him.

“Wake up,” the man snarled. “Wake up and see what mess you’ve gotten us into now.”

Maddox stared around at the small, shadowy room they were in, memories of what happened at the festival coming back with the force of another blow. “Where are we?”

“Where do you think we are? In the palace dungeon.”

He said this as if it should be common knowledge, but Maddox had never been in a dungeon before. It was dark, smelly, and dank, with stone walls and a black metal door. He’d also never been inside the palace; he’d only seen it in the distance, a massive and foreboding black granite structure that rose out of the earth like a giant crystal shard, visible for miles and miles.

“Why are you here, too?” Maddox asked, stunned.

“Because Cena told them I’m your father. Because I protested your arrest. And here we are. Because of your stupidity.” Maddox opened his mouth, but Livius raised a hand as if to strike him again. “Keep quiet. You’ve done enough already. Let me do the talking when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for what?”

“For introducing the witch boy to the goddess.”

Maddox shuddered with fear at this possibility. “But what if—”

“Shut up, you idiot. I don’t want to hear another word leave your mouth, or I’ll personally cut out your tongue.”

Maddox pressed his lips together.

“Can you get us out of here with your magic?” Livius asked when silence lapsed between them for a long moment.

“Don’t answer him,” Becca said, and Maddox’s gaze shot to the corner to see her standing in the shadows. She twisted her rose charm necklace nervously. “He just said he’d cut out your tongue if you speak again. I really don’t want to see how he’d do that—they took his weapons away back at the festival.”

He was surprised that seeing her again had quickly cast a measure of lightness into this gloomy dungeon cell.

“You’re still here,” he said, fighting a smile.

“What?” Livius snapped. “Of course I am, you fool.”

Becca shrugged. “I did say I’d haunt you forever, didn’t I?”

Maddox ignored his guardian and focused on the girl. “You said you would if I didn’t help the witch.”

She drew closer, her worried gaze locking on his. “I thought for a while I was only having a bad dream and that I’d wake up eventually, but this is real. You’re real. He’s real. . . .” She glanced at Livius, her expression souring. “He’s a total dick, by the way. How can you let him abuse you like that, without getting fed up and kicking his ass? You’re not five years old. You’re, like, my age. At least.”

Kicking his ass? He responded to this suggestion with an involuntary laugh. Livius didn’t own a mule.

“You’re talking to yourself.” Livius peered at him with his good eye. “Are you mad, boy?”

“That would be an excellent explanation,” Maddox said, nodding.

“Or perhaps . . .” Livius scanned the cell. “You see a spirit in here, don’t you?”