A Book of Spirits and Thieves

“Do I?”


“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just sitting here, invisible and incorporeal. Waiting. My sister and mother are probably only desperately worried about me, while you’re all here celebrating the fact that you managed to open a locked box. So, no. Not unhappy. Just impatient. With you.”

She said you so sharply it was as if it were a dagger she’d decided to poke him with.

But instead of making him feel bad, it raised his ire. “I know you’re in a gigantic rush to leave this kingdom you despise so much, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes . . . really. Besides, have you considered for one moment that the thought of saying farewell to you might be painful for me? That having you here as a spirit I can never touch is preferable to me than not having you here at all, even though the thought of kissing you—really kissing you, the real, solid you—is all I can think about?”

Her eyes widened. “Maddox . . .”

It was a great relief to have gotten the truth out, but the aftermath made him feel raw and exposed and deeply foolish. “Please forgive my drunken behavior.”

He staggered away from her without another word.

The tavern swirled around him—the laughter, the chatter, the music, and the dancing. Everyone seemed happy and joyous.

Yet Maddox now descended into pure misery.

He liked Becca so much, had gotten so attached to her in such a short time, it felt as if his heart might ignite inside his chest.

And if everything went perfectly, he would soon lose her forever.



When they got back to the cottage, Maddox excused himself so he could rush outside and be sick. When he was done wiping his mouth, he noticed he had an audience.

“Better up than down,” Barnabas said, nodding sympathetically.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“What? I’m here to help you through. It’ll take you a while until you’re able to handle your drink. But it’ll happen.”

Maddox pressed up against the stone exterior of Camilla’s cottage, then slid down to the ground and rested his head in his hands.

“Oh my,” Barnabas said. “You’re in terrible shape, aren’t you?”

“The worst.”

“It’s not just the ale. It’s the girl, too. Am I correct?”

Maddox rubbed his eyes. “Have you ever been in love, Barnabas?”

Barnabas paused, as if in solemn thought. “Is that what this is with the spirit girl?”

“I don’t know what it is. I’m just asking you a question.”

That pained shadow he’d seen yesterday crossed Barnabas’s expression again.

“Yes, I’ve been in love. I know how it feels. That all-consuming sensation like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. The terrifying knowledge that you would live and die for this girl, if only she’d give you the chance.”

“Who was she, this girl you loved?”

Barnabas turned his faraway gaze to Maddox and finally smiled again. “We should get you back inside, my young friend. There’s a warm cot with your name on it in the back room. You can sleep this off.”

It seemed Barnabas didn’t want to talk about such private things, which was probably for the best. Maddox knew he’d likely be lying anyway.

“Sleep sounds good,” Maddox agreed.

“It certainly does.”



It was well past dawn when Maddox finally woke. Opening his eyes, he felt as if someone had placed a thousand-pound weight upon his head while he slept.

“Ughh,” he moaned as he pushed up from the cot.

“I bet you have a hell of a hangover this morning,” Becca said. She stood by the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I wasn’t hanging over anything, was I? Were you”—he hesi-tated—“watching me sleep?”

“Um.” Her cheeks reddened. “More like waiting for you to wake up.”

“Is everyone else awake?”

She nodded. “They’ve been up for hours.”

Maddox rubbed his forehead, trying to will the crushing pain away. He peered at Becca through his fingers. “My deepest apologizes for my behavior last night.”

“No apology necessary.” She searched his face in silence before turning away. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

When she left, he forced himself to get up and get dressed, and reflected on all the idiotic things he’d said to Becca last night. At least, all the idiotic things he could remember. With one last groan, he left his little room to join the others.

Camilla tossed him a roasted chicken leg as he passed through the main room of the cottage. “Get something in that stomach of yours.”

Barnabas sat at the table, inspecting the book.

“Are we planning to test the book’s magic this morning?” Maddox asked.

“Yes, we certainly are,” Barnabas replied.

Sienna entered the room, smiled at them all, then turned to warm her hands by the fire. “Good morning, sister. Good morning, Barnabas, Maddox. A lovely day, isn’t it?”

Barnabas closed the book. “Not nearly as lovely as you are, Sienna.”