A Book of Spirits and Thieves

She grabbed her keys and her bag, then eyed the Canon she’d left on her bedside table.

“What can I say?” she mumbled. “It’s a great camera.”

She tucked it in her bag.

On the way to the campus, she tried it out for the first time, confirming that digital had one very important and helpful advantage over film: She could instantly review the photos she took on the view screen.

However, this convenience would also take some of the fun out of photography for her, robbing her of the surprise that came with seeing what showed up on film when she finally developed it days or weeks later.

When Crys arrived at the campus and began navigating her way along the sidewalks toward her destination, she kept an eye open for anyone who might be spying on her, but came up with nothing. But that didn’t mean Markus wasn’t around. He could be here today, attending one of his classes.

Unless that, too, had been a lie.

She entered the Anthropology Building and headed up to Dr. Vega’s office, only to find an unlocked door and an empty room.

“Can I help you?” another frazzled-looking professor came up from behind and asked, frowning so deeply it looked painful.

“I’m looking for Dr. Vega. Is he here today?”

“No, he’s not here. I’m afraid he was taken to the emergency room earlier this afternoon.”

She stared at him. “What? What happened?”

“He was mugged and beaten very badly.”

Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag. “Where is he?”

“Mount Sinai Hospital. It’s not far from here.”

She’d already started for the exit. “I know exactly where it is.”

Dr. Vega was in the same hospital as Becca.



It took Crys a while to find Dr. Vega’s room, and then she had to lie and say he was her father in order to see him.

Luckily, the nurse believed her.

She slowly pushed open the door to find a beaten, bloody man lying in a hospital bed, his eyelids swollen and open only a fraction, but enough to know he was awake.

“Miss Hatcher,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and raw. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Sorry?” She was at his side in a second, wincing at the sight of the tubes attached to his arms and nose. “For what?”

“I’m such a fool, such a weak, pathetic fool. They’ve been watching me, all this time. I’ve prided myself on my paranoia, feeling it’s kept me safe all this time. But they were waiting. Until I had what they needed. I’ve betrayed you. And I’ve betrayed your aunt. I only wish I could have been stronger.”

“The Hawkspear Society. They did this, didn’t they?”

He nodded, then grimaced as if the small movement had caused him great pain. “I tried not to tell them anything beyond what I already revealed in my paper, but they applied some duress, as you can see.”

Her stomach lurched. “What did you tell them?”

“The Codex . . . you told me you’d seen it. . . .”

Crys went cold inside. She’d told Markus that she didn’t know where it was. “What else?”

“That your sister touched it, and that it sent her into a mysterious coma.”

“Damn it.” Markus now had all the information he needed to get the book and severely hurt her family in the process.

“I should have let them kill me.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “Don’t say that. You did what you did because they gave you no other choice. Jackie will understand.”

“She’ll never speak to me again.” His eyes filled with tears. “All our work, the amount she’s struggled these last several years, all for nothing.”

“It’s not for nothing. When did this happen?”

“I was on my lunch break. Open-faced roast beef sandwich, gravy, salad. Tea with lemon.” He exhaled shakily. “I hadn’t taken even my first bite when they arrived.”

Part of her wanted to be angry with him, but looking at him now, so baffled and helpless, she wasn’t. Markus’s minions had tortured the information out of him.

“For your sister to have this reaction to the Codex,” he managed, “it means that she must be very important and very special.”

“You’re right. She definitely is.”

After a solemn goodbye, Crys left his room, promising to come back and check on him later.

She went to Becca’s floor, her steps quickening as she approached the room and pushed open the door.

Becca’s bed was empty.

She turned and grabbed the first nurse who passed by. “Where’s my sister? Where’s Becca Hatcher?”

The nurse frowned, then grabbed the clipboard on the door, scanning it. “It doesn’t say she was moved. . . .”

“She’s not here, so she must have been moved somewhere. Where was she moved?”

Confusion crossed the nurse’s expression. “I . . . don’t know. There must have been a mistake somewhere. I’ll look into it immediately.”

Crys’s phone began to ring. She pulled it out of her bag and looked down at the screen.

DAD

“Crys.” He cut her off when she answered. “I know you’re at the hospital.”