A Book of Spirits and Thieves

“I know.”


“I wasn’t expecting that, especially not with me on the stage, so up close and personal. But—that guy, he was dangerous. If we had let him go, he’d have gone out and caused the deaths of tons of other people. If he went to jail, it probably wouldn’t have been for nearly long enough. There was no other answer.” Still, his face looked bleak and haunted about this harsh realization.

“I get it, kid. I do.” Farrell leaned forward and gripped his brother’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to apologize to me for anything. Ever. Okay? I should have been more understanding.”

Adam blinked. “Wow, is this, like, a sentimental brotherly moment? Should we hug tenderly?”

Farrell laughed. “I don’t give hugs out liberally, especially not to family.”

Adam grinned in the lopsided way that made Farrell know that his happiness was genuine.

Farrell’s phone buzzed, interrupting this rare peaceful moment. It was Lucas.

“Gotta take this, kid,” he said, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“It’s time,” Lucas said.

He covered the receiver with his hand. “Adam, why don’t you take the whole set? I won’t be reading them anytime soon.”

“Really? Okay.” Adam gathered the books and headed for the door. He hesitated there, as if he still had something more to say. But after a moment, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

“It’s time, is it?” Farrell said. “Cryptic, much? Is there a secret handshake I should memorize before I leave the house?”

Lucas snorted softly. “Always with the jokes. I’d probably curb that tendency a bit tonight if I were you. Markus’s sense of humor is . . . singular.”

Whatever that meant. “I’ll be on my bestest behavior—cross my heart,” Farrell said.

“You don’t have to be nervous.”

“Do I sound nervous to you?”

“I would be, if I were you.” Lucas told him where to meet in half an hour.

Farrell left the mansion and directed his driver to the address, which was a large cathedral on the west side of the city that looked more like a castle, with tall spires and towers and stained glass windows that sparkled despite the overcast day.

“Shall I wait here for you?” Sam, his driver, asked.

Farrell had tried very hard not to start to like him, or even get to know him. Sam, who was somewhere in his midtwenties, had been hired as a temporary solution to the problem that was Farrell Grayson’s lack of a driver’s license. But Farrell would be back in a brand-new Porsche the first moment that the lawyers sorted out his DUI, and then Sam would be nothing more than a distant memory.

“Don’t make friends with the hired help,” his mother had shrilly told him a decade ago when she’d caught him playing with one of the maid’s kids.

But Sam had been a huge help in the last few months, and it was hard not to think of him as a friend, rather than just someone his parents paid to drive him around.

Farrell smiled as he recalled a conversation from a recent night out.

“Ever think about, oh, I don’t know, not drinking?” Sam had asked as he waited for Farrell to stop puking at the side of the road.

“I’ve thought about it,” Farrell had replied, wiping his mouth. “And . . . nah.”

“Just asking.” Sam grinned and shook his head. “It’s your liver.”

Sam was reliable and friendly and went above and beyond to help him out. Farrell appreciated that more than he’d ever admit out loud.

“No, Sam. Don’t bother waiting, since I have no idea how long I’ll be,” Farrell said now. “Go get yourself some dinner. I’ll call when I’m all done.”

Not one minute after Sam had driven off, Lucas approached Farrell on the sidewalk. He offered his hand, and Farrell grasped it and shook it.

“You ready for this?” Lucas asked.

“Hell yeah.” Farrell eyed the intricate building and gestured up at it. “Do I need to confess my sins first? I admit—it’s been a while, and I have quite a few.”

Lucas grinned. “Follow me.”

He led Farrell around to the back of the cathedral, where they found what looked like an unmarked subway entrance blocked off by construction tape and wooden panels. He shoved away a panel, which revealed a trapdoor beneath.

“After you,” Lucas said after lifting the door.

Farrell raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Looks dark down there.”

“Yes. Very dark.” Lucas waited patiently, as if issuing an unspoken challenge. Are you a coward, Grayson? Or are you worthy?

“Let’s do this,” Farrell mumbled, then stepped through the trapdoor, grappling in the darkness to find the stairs. He braced himself with his hand against the cool concrete wall as he slowly began his descent. The door slapped back down into place as Lucas fell into step behind him.

“It’ll just take a few moments for my eyesight to adjust,” Lucas said. “Then I can get us where we need to be pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, sure. My eyes will take a minute, too.”