A Book of Spirits and Thieves

Julia sighed, looking exhausted. “No, you really shouldn’t have.”


As her mind began to clear a little, Crys felt like she needed a drink. A strong one. Coffee wouldn’t do, but maybe another whiskey sour. . . .

Which made her think of something else, and someone else. “Mom, you don’t happen to remember, back when you were a member, if the Graysons were a part of the society, do you? You know, the really rich guy who’s always in the news? Edward Grayson and his family?”

She took no time at all to think about it. “Yes. Actually, they were among Hawkspear’s most elite members. Why do you ask?”

Seeing Farrell and the mugger together in the limo earlier had been a huge mystery to her, one that had made her doubt her own eyes.

But now everything was beginning to make sense.





Chapter 22


FARRELL



It had been two days since he’d last seen Crys. Farrell had decided that, since she hadn’t jumped on the chance to contact him again—despite the brilliant idea of sending her the camera—he had to take action.

He pushed open the door to the Speckled Muse Bookshop. There were several customers inside, a couple at the front register paying for their purchases—there Crys was, behind the register—and some browsing the shelves. The store smelled musty, like any old building might. But it also smelled of the paper, leather, and binding glue of the books. The wood of the shelves.

And . . . strawberries.

He’d developed a strong craving for strawberries over the last few days.

Farrell moved deeper into the surprisingly expansive shop. From the outside, it looked no bigger than a convenience store, but inside it went on and on. He paused in the mystery section and eyed the books so he’d appear to be an actual customer.

A black-and-white kitten peered out at him, seated on top of several Sue Grafton hardcovers.

“Hello there,” he said. “Are you the speckled muse herself? Get it? ‘Mews’?”

He reached forward to pet it, but the cat hissed at him and raked its claws over his hand, drawing blood.

“Stupid little—” He moved to grab the beast by its furry neck, but it scurried away before he could even touch it.

“Farrell?” Crys said from his right. “Is that you?”

He fixed a charming grin on his face and turned toward her, slipping his injured left hand into his pocket. “In the flesh.”

“You’re here. Wow. This is a surprise.”

Today she wore faded jeans, very tight on her thighs and hips, which he liked, and a ridiculous T-shirt that had an excited-looking sugar cube saying YOU’RE SO HOT to a grinning cup of coffee.

She wore her white-blond hair in a braid and, apart from a coating of pink lip gloss, no makeup. Those pale blue eyes of hers watched him from behind her deeply unfashionable black-rimmed glasses.

“I think my phone must be broken,” he said, casually leaning against the shelf and pulling the device from his jacket pocket. “I can’t think of any other reason why I haven’t heard from you yet.”

“I should have called,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I’ve been so busy. But I got your gift. Farrell, thank you—but it’s way too generous. You didn’t have to buy me anything. It wasn’t your fault my camera got broken. I really can’t accept—”

He held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. I insist that you keep it. I don’t take photos, not counting mental snapshots, so I have no use for it. Just do me a favor and keep it in your bag so you’ll never miss an opportunity to take an important picture. Got it? No argument or I’m going to start pouting.”

She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Wouldn’t want to make you pout.”

“You really wouldn’t. It’s very unattractive.” This is much better, he thought. Again, he had her in the palm of his hand. “When do you close up?”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “At six.”

His phone told him it was five forty-five. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what dinner is, right? It’s what people usually eat several hours after lunch, when they get hungry again.”

A smile nudged at her lips, but she seemed to fight it. “I know what dinner is.”

“You have to eat. And I just happen to be here, browsing through all these books and getting hungry. . . .”

“No graphic novels here, I’m afraid. I keep telling my mother to order some in.”

So she remembered that little personal detail about him. Nice. “I can read books without pictures in them if I have to.”

“Good to know.”

She was playing hard to get today, but he did enjoy a challenge. He knew he could get every little secret detail of her life out into the open tonight.

“There’s a sushi place just around the block if you’d like that,” he said. “Or we could go for Italian if you’d prefer.”