A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(14)

Five minutes later, her phone chirped. She pulled it closer and warily eyed the screen.

Yes, I’m still here. Of course I’ll meet with you, but it will have to be tomorrow. Just tell me when and where.

Crys shut off the phone and tried to ignore the sick, twisting feeling in her gut.

She felt as if she’d just made contact with the dead.





Chapter 5


FARRELL



If there was one thing Farrell struggled with the most, it was properly tying a bow tie.

“Finally,” he muttered as his clumsy fingers managed the proper knot at last. He pulled on the black jacket of his Armani tuxedo and took a swig of vodka from his silver flask.

He slipped the flask into his inner jacket pocket and then fastened a gold pin to his lapel—a small crest of crossed spears behind a hawk.

The society’s signet was so literal it used to make Farrell laugh out loud.

He leaned forward, eyeing his reflection in the mirror, and pushed his dark brown hair back from his face. He glared at the birth-mark beneath his right eye with displeasure. One day he’d get around to having it removed. He honestly hadn’t paid it much attention until a local magazine did a photo spread on the family and someone in the art department had taken the liberty of airbrushing it out.

A physical flaw in the House of Grayson. Can’t have that.

He turned on the heels of his tight, Italian leather loafers and left his room.

“Have you been drinking?” His father’s deep voice greeted him in the hallway.

He gave Edward Grayson a wry look. They wore identical tuxes—same designer, same size. “Honestly, Dad. Would I drink on an important night like this? It’s baby brother’s initiation.”

His father’s lips quirked up, almost into a smile, and he absently raked both of his hands through his graying hair. It was another trait they shared—an unconscious gesture they made when not entirely at ease. “I’m counting on you to keep a close eye on Adam tonight.”

“I will.”

“I mean it. He’s so excited about his initiation, and . . . well, I hope everything goes smoothly. Your mother’s concerned that his reaction to his first meeting will be . . . unpredictable.”

His mother was always concerned about something. “How about my first reaction? Was it unpredictable?” Farrell asked.

His father studied him. “You are always unpredictable.”

He decided to take that as a compliment. “I try my best.”

“Adam cannot embarrass himself or this family.” It was Isabelle Grayson’s voice that now sliced between father and son. Farrell glanced at his mother as she approached, her four-inch Louboutin pumps clicking on the marble floor. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a tight coil at the nape of her neck. Her lips were bright crimson, her eye makeup applied flawlessly. She wore a dark blue gown that brushed the floor and diamonds on her wrist, fingers, neck, and ears.

Her current expression held no discernible emotion. That could be because of her chilly personality or her most recent visit to her favorite Botox syringe, Farrell thought.

“He won’t,” Farrell said. “Adam will be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.” His mother swept her appraising gaze over him before moving down the staircase. Farrell watched her go with a tight feeling in his chest.

“Son . . . ,” his father said, his voice softening a fraction. “Are you all right?”

Farrell blinked, glancing at him sideways. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A shadow crossed his father’s concerned face. “You’ve been very quiet this week, which is unlike you. The anniversary of . . . well, it’s been difficult for all of us, of course, but I know, for you, having found him like that, it must be—”

“I’m fine,” Farrell bit out, shuttering up his emotions as best he could. Numb was best. Numb was always best. He felt the reassuring weight of the silver flask in his pocket. “We should go. Wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”



Adam’s face fell as soon as they got out of the limo.

“It’s just a restaurant,” he said blandly.

“Yes.” Their father’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the five-star restaurant where their attire wouldn’t seem out of place in the slightest. “One of my favorites, actually.”

“So, what? Do they reserve a room at the back for us? Like a birthday party?”

Farrell smirked. “Just wait till you see the balloon animals.”

“Enough talking.” Their mother’s words were clipped. “Be silent. Eyes forward. Consider yourself blessed to have been allowed this opportunity at your young age, and don’t embarrass me.”

Adam clamped his mouth shut and met Farrell’s gaze. The two nearly started to laugh. They might be unpredictable, but their mother certainly wasn’t.

They entered the restaurant, practically vacant at nearly midnight. The familiar hostess’s eyes flicked to their golden pins before she nodded.

“This way,” she said, gesturing toward an elevator that slid open at the end of a short hallway. No party room or balloon animals in sight.

Adam kept quiet now, watching and waiting, as they got on the elevator together without a word. The doors closed, and they began moving down.