A Book of Spirits and Thieves

He brushed his fingers over his skin. “I’m not sure what I really feel anymore. Sometimes it’s difficult to think straight. Do you think that might be because of the mark?”


“Maybe.” She searched his gaze, her breath quickening. Then she grabbed hold of his hand. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Maybe you can fight against his power over you. You could help me—me and Becca.”

She drew even closer, so close that her addictive strawberry scent enticed him more intensely than ever.

“Do you have any idea how good you smell, Crystal Hatcher?” He reached forward and threaded his fingers into her hair. She watched him carefully, warily, but didn’t try to pull away. “And do you know how absolutely beautiful you are?”

“Farrell . . .”

“I don’t know what to do. Markus’s pull . . . the pull he has over all of us . . . it’s so strong. So hard to fight.” He moved closer, focused on her lips.

“It must be.”

“I have heard of one way to break the power this mark has over me, but I’d need your help. Would you help me, Crys?”

“Of course I would,” she said, breathless. “How can I help?”

He’d drawn so close he could almost brush his lips against hers. “To break the mark’s control, I need to . . . have sex with a really gullible blonde.”

She reared back from him, her expression going from hopeful to outraged in a split second. Then she smacked him, hard, across his face.

“Ow!” He laughed and rubbed his cheek as she scooted back to her side of the limo.

“I hate you.”

“Didn’t look like it a moment ago. Word to the wise, sweetheart, even if this mark did make me Markus’s loyal and unquestioning servant”—he held up his left forearm—“I’d be okay with it. I’ve never felt better in my life. And as far as how I feel about you? I don’t feel anything at all. Markus asked me to bring you to him, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“So loyal. Like a trained poodle.”

There was a time not long ago when an insult like that might have incensed him. Tonight, all he felt was calm. He lit a cigarette, not even registering that she gave him a venomous look as he blew the smoke in her direction.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen to see a text from Adam.

where are you? want to see a movie tonight?

It seemed that his brother had finally forgiven him for what happened at Firebird.

Sorry, I’m on a date with Felicity, he answered. Won’t be home for a couple hours.

Sam was driving them to the same cathedral where he’d met Lucas on the day of his fateful meeting with Markus. It seemed like a thousand years ago—back when he’d been full of doubt about what was to come, back when he’d still been so tormented by his older brother’s suicide.

So much had changed in a matter of days. Now he barely thought about Connor at all. The dead were gone—no reason to give them any further thought.

Sam pulled the limo up to the curb and opened the back door, averting his eyes as Farrell and Crys got out. The chauffeur knew something was up but was smart not to ask any questions.

“You can head off now, Sam. I’ll call you when I’m done,” Farrell told him.

“Yes, sir.” Sam glanced at Crys for a split second before he got back in the car and drove away.

“All right, let’s go,” Farrell said. “And just a warning: If you draw any attention to us, you’ll regret it. Markus said a blindfold isn’t necessary this time, but I’m sure he’d be fine with a gag.”

“Screaming my head off right now won’t help my sister, will it?”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

He took her by her elbow and directed her to the rear of the cathedral, to the tunnel entrance. He pulled up the piece of plywood, and she stared down at the darkness beneath.

“There’s stairs,” he said. “Let’s go. Markus is waiting.”

She drew her eyeglasses out of her bag and put them on, pushing them up her nose. A quick glimpse inside her bag also revealed the Canon Rebel he’d given her as a gift.

“So I see you’re all ready to take the perfect shot,” he said.

“It probably won’t happen tonight.”

“Probably not. Now, those stairs I mentioned a moment ago? Let’s start moving.”

Crys bit her bottom lip but didn’t protest. She slipped past the plywood plank he held up, found her footing, and then began her descent.

He knew how she felt, unsure of her next step, worried she might take a devastating fall. For him it was completely different. It only took a minute for his newly improved senses to kick in, and he could see as well as day in the darkness.

Farrell watched as she fumbled her way down the stairs, a mix of trepidation and determination on her face.

“Chin up, buttercup,” he said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Bite me.”