A Book of Spirits and Thieves

Crys had to take a moment to absorb this. It sounded like a piece of fantasy fiction, not the history of her own family. “But my mother and Jackie aren’t members anymore.”


“No. Unfortunately, we had a . . . falling-out. They chose to believe a series of unforgiveable lies about me. Once that trust between us had been lost, it couldn’t be regained, so I released them from their ties to the society. Years later, Daniel returned of his own free will. He knew he was needed, and he wanted to continue to help with our mission.”

Why wouldn’t her mother have told her something as important as this? Did she think Crys wouldn’t ever find out the truth?

If this was the truth.

Whatever lies Jackie and Julia had believed about Markus had turned their grandfather’s closest ally into a monster in their eyes.

Appearance-wise, at least, Markus King was anything but a monster.

“Did my mother and Jackie believe you’re a god, too?”

“They did,” he replied without hesitation. “But I can tell that you don’t. It’s understandable, since you’ve seen no proof. I do have abilities that regular people don’t possess. Would you like to see?”

She watched him in wary silence before finally nodding.

He held out his hand, and with a flick of the wrist, a bouquet of flames burst forth on his palm, rising up a foot, casting sparkling light into his dark blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll admit, it’s a bit too showy for my tastes. Any Las Vegas magician could do the same with the proper preparation.”

Crys struggled to catch her breath. “So what else can you do?” she said, trying not to sound like that was the strangest, most captivating thing she’d ever seen.

He studied her carefully. “You’ve cut your finger.”

She looked down at the bandage on her index finger. “It’s just a paper cut. Nothing major.”

He drew closer, crouching down in front of her. His demeanor was so calm that it helped to relax Crys a little, too. She didn’t cringe away from him as he gently pulled the bandage off her finger and inspected the sore red wound beneath.

“I can help with this,” he said, closing his grip around her finger.

She felt heat dance across her skin, penetrating deeper and deeper into her flesh. A strange, soft glow seemed to emanate from his hand. After a few more seconds, the sensation became unpleasant, but it couldn’t be described as pain.

“There,” he said, releasing her. “That’s not something a magician can do.”

She stared down in shock to see that her paper cut was gone, and that the previously wounded skin was unblemished.

No wonder his members believed he was a god.

“I’m going to need a moment to pick up my jaw off the floor,” she allowed herself to admit.

“Of course.” He returned to his seat opposite her, regarding her now with renewed amusement.

He’d healed her. No tricks involved, no smoke and mirrors. Healed her like some kind of miracle.

Crys had never been one to believe in the supernatural, but when she saw it with her own two eyes . . .

Was there another explanation? To admit that he might be a god . . . it was too much to wrap her head around in ten minutes or less. Ten years might not be enough time.

And there were so many questions that now bubbled up in her throat, when before she’d been stunned silent. This was a man who kept the location of his home a secret. She’d think the same sort of person—god, or whatever—wouldn’t be one to simply stroll out in public.

“Why were you at the university that day?” she asked.

“Simply because I take classes there.” When she raised her eyebrows at him, his smile widened. “Even immortals have healthy curiosities—not to mention many long days to fill. It was my pleasure to help you find your way to Dr. Vega’s office.”

“You already know him.”

“Yes. And he knows me. Though I don’t think he’s aware that I’m a student in one of his classes. He doesn’t pay much attention to his pupils.”

Dr. Vega had accused Markus of murdering his father. But that wasn’t exactly something she could blurt out right now. Still, the thought unsettled her deeply.

Would her father leave her alone in the company of a murderer?

“When you met with him, did he tell you what you wanted to know about the Bronze Codex?” Markus asked.

Crys froze.

He asked it as if it were a question, but his tone was more like a statement. He knew. Of course he knew. He seemed to know absolutely everything.

Could he hear her heart pounding now, as desperately as a trapped animal’s?

He didn’t wait for her to reply. “Dr. Vega is a paranoid and vain little man who is desperately in love with your aunt. I feel sorry for him sometimes, how seriously he takes everything.”

“He . . . he seems to mean well.”