A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(43)

Then Markus fell silent for a full minute, watching Farrell with dark eyes.

Finally, he rose to his feet. He pulled his infamous golden dagger from a hinged mahogany box on his desk, its lid ornately carved with the Hawkspear emblem set against a backdrop of mountains, and inlaid with gold. “Give me your arm.”

Was he about to give Farrell a second mark? Is that what Lucas had meant during that whole tattoo discussion?

The first mark had gifted Farrell with perfect health—he hadn’t been sick a single day in the last three years (though, unfortunately, Markus didn’t seem to have any power over hangovers).

What gift would this second mark bring?

He wanted to ask but knew this was not the time. Instead, he unbuttoned and rolled back the sleeve of his shirt, then offered his left arm to Markus.

Don’t flinch, he reminded himself.

Markus grasped his wrist, then cut deeply into Farrell’s forearm, guiding the tip of the dagger along his flesh. Farrell gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to react to the pain as he watched the blood flow from the wound, drip to the floor, and flow over the symbol that Markus etched into his skin.

When it was done, Markus placed the dagger on his desk and pressed his bare hand against Farrell’s arm. A healing white light began to emanate from the wound, and Farrell felt a burning sensation—horribly painful, nearly as much as the cutting itself had been.

Moments later, Markus drew back from him. The wound had healed, and Farrell’s skin was unmarked.

“Do you feel it?” Markus asked.

“Feel—?” Farrell started to ask but then closed his mouth.

He felt it.

He could hear the tick of the clock in the adjoining room. He could hear Lucas, who stood waiting for him on the other side of the door, tapping on his phone as he wrote a text or answered an e-mail.

He could smell bread baking in the kitchen, somewhere in the house. He could see with perfect clarity each and every title written in gilded gold and silver and bronze on the spines of the books throughout the room.

“My senses . . . ,” he breathed.

“Are much improved,” Markus finished. “This will help you in countless ways.”

So this was how Lucas had been able to see in the near-pitch darkness of the tunnels, unafraid of tripping over his own feet. Now Farrell could do that as well.

“Thank you, Markus,” he said, lowering his head in deference.

“How do you feel, Mr. Grayson?”

“Incredible.” It was true. He’d never felt so good, so healthy, in his entire life.

Another nod from Markus. “Good. I have officially accepted you into my circle with this second mark. If you prove your worth fully to me, I will give you a third.”

A third mark? What gift would that give him?

“Now. I have an assignment for you, Mr. Grayson.”

My first assignment already? Farrell had barely begun to recover from the amazing effects of his new mark. He needed a drink. A big one. Straight up.

Still, clarity of mind shone through him. Above all else, he wanted to prove himself to this powerful god—the sooner the better.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s a girl who I believe is attempting to seek information about me and the Hawkspear Society. I feel her particular investigation could be problematic, for many reasons we don’t need to get into now. I want you to get to know her, make her trust you, find out what she’s hiding, what she knows of the society, and what she may want from me in particular. And I want you to report back everything you find.”

Farrell blinked. “You want me to spy on a girl.”

“Yes. Will you do this for me?”

He’d been hoping for some epic task that would allow him to prove his worth. Spying on some girl playing at being Nancy Drew sounded simple enough, but it wasn’t remotely groundbreaking.

Still, there was only one answer he could give, and he knew what it was.

“Of course I will, Markus.”





Chapter 12


MADDOX



The guards threw Maddox back into his dungeon cell, laughing as they slammed the door shut behind them. Maddox lay on the dirt floor, staring up at the low stone ceiling, stunned by the harsh treatment and by everything he’d witnessed.

“Maddox . . .” Becca crouched down next to him and peered at his face with concern. “Can you hear me?”

“No. I can’t hear anything anymore.”

“Clearly you can hear me if you’re answering me.”

“She ordered that snake to kill Livius. A big snake with fangs . . . that grew even bigger. Did you see it grow?”

“I saw.” She nodded. “So she’s really a goddess, huh?”

He finally met her gaze. “You’re accepting all this much more calmly than I would have expected.”

“Do I seem calm? Because I’m not. I’m screaming on the inside, but I’m trying to keep it together because losing my mind will not help either of us right now.” She exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry Livius is dead.”

“I’m not.”

“He was horrible to you, but nobody deserves to die like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re far too kind. You really aren’t from Mytica, are you?”