A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(4)

Times had changed. The nook, once a place of magic and fairy tales, now looked weathered and old. The only ghosts to be found back here were memories of a different time.

“What’s that?” Becca asked, drawing Crys out of her reverie.

“Good question. Jackie sent it. I don’t know what it is, but I hope it’s worth big bucks.”

Becca stood up and brushed some dust off her jeans. “Let me see it.” Crys handed it over, and Becca’s eyes widened as she took it. “Wow. It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I wonder how old it is.”

“Very old,” Crys replied. “That’s my professional opinion.”

Becca sat down on the small sofa and began to carefully flip through it. “I wonder what language this is.”

“No idea whatsoever.”

“This is like something you’d find in a museum.”

“Do museums pay lots of money for ancient books no one can read?”

This earned Crys a sharp look. “It’s not all about money, you know.”

“Let’s go ahead and agree to disagree on that.”

Becca traced her hand lightly over a fully gold page, the writing so tiny and cramped that there was barely any of the thin paper showing. The ink shone bright in the light from the window, even as dusk had started to descend over the city.

“Don’t get your greasy fingers all over it,” Crys said. “It’ll decrease the value.”

“Quiet.” Becca’s voice was hollow now, distracted, as she peered at the pages, her brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“You look constipated.”

Becca shook her head, not bothering to respond to Crys’s smart-ass comment with even a glare. “This book . . . I feel like I can . . . I don’t know. Sense something from it.”

“Sense something?” Crys laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “Spirits, come to us now! Speak to us through the pages of this weird old book.”

“Shut up. It’s not like that. It’s not . . .”

“Not what?” Crys prompted when Becca fell silent.

Becca’s breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

That was alarming. “Becca, what’s wrong?”

“This book . . .” Becca whispered hoarsely, as if the words were getting stuck in her throat. She began to tremble. “It’s doing something . . . to me. I can feel it . . . pulling.”

“Pulling? Pulling what?” In seconds, a chill spread through Crys, bringing with it a dark and heavy feeling of dread. “You’re starting to freak me out. It’s just a dumb book. Give it back to me.” She held out her hand and waited for her sister to hand it back to her. “Come on! What are you waiting for?”

Becca lurched up to her feet off the small sofa. “I can’t seem to let go of it. I’m trying, but I can’t.”

The golden page began to glow.

Crys swore under her breath. What the hell was going on?

She reached forward to grab it out from her sister’s grip. The moment she touched the book this time, a violent shock tore through her, as if she’d jammed her hand into a light socket. It knocked her backward, and she fell flat on her back on the far side of the alcove. The wind had been knocked from her lungs, and she struggled to find her breath. As fast as she could, she scrambled to her unsteady feet.

“Get that thing away from you, Becca!” she gasped.

Becca’s eyes had filled with the bright golden light from the book. “I don’t know what’s happening. What . . . what is it doing to me? Help me!” Her voice broke with fear. “Please, Crys, help me!”

Crys lunged toward her sister just as light started to stream out of the book, momentarily blinding her and making her stagger back again. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, only to see that sharp beams of this impossibly bright light had wrapped around Becca, slithering around her chest and arms and face like a thousand golden snakes.

Becca screamed, and the bone-chilling sound drew a frightened shriek from Crys’s throat. The book finally dropped from Becca’s hands as she crumpled to the floor in a heap next to it.

Crys scrambled to Becca’s side and grabbed her sister’s shoulders, shaking her. “Becca! Becca, look at me! Look at me!”

The golden glow from the book coated her skin and gathered in her eyes for a moment longer before it finally extinguished.

Becca stared straight ahead, her expression slack.

“Please!” Crys yelled, shaking her harder. “Please say something!”

But her sister didn’t respond. She stared, she blinked. She breathed. But Becca Hatcher was gone—mind and soul.

Gone. In an instant.

Leaving Crys behind, alone . . . with the book responsible.





Chapter 2


FARRELL



The Raven Club wasn’t his favorite bar, but it was the noisiest one he knew. Silence meant thinking. And thinking meant remembering.

Tonight he wanted to forget.

Half a bottle of vodka also made forgetting a lot easier. And the club offered its fair share of dark-haired beauties to help take his mind off the date on the calendar.

“You are very helpful, you know that?” he said to the girl on his lap, weaving his fingers into her long hair, which was stiff with hair spray. She wore a low cut, sparkly top and a skirt short enough to get her arrested in many places around the world. Luckily, Toronto wasn’t one of them.