A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(45)

“Now, stop being a coward,” Becca went on, “and let’s get a plan together to get you the hell out of here.”

He lurched up to his feet, his eyes blazing—going from feeling awkward to furious in a single moment. “Coward? I’m not a coward. How can you say I’m—”

“Finally, a little passion! Good to see it.” She was grinning now. “And I don’t actually think you’re a coward. I just said that to get a reaction. Anyone who could face that Valoria woman and her magic snake and not crumple into a sobbing heap is brave. You’re brave, Maddox.”

The moment of outrage passed as quickly as it arrived. He wasn’t brave, not really, but he chose not to correct her. But if she really did believe in him, maybe he could try to believe in himself. And if by some miracle he could help her as she thought he could, then he would do so without question.

“Tell me more about this book you mentioned before. The one you believe sent you here.”

Becca began speaking about the leather-bound manuscript with the unfamiliar, unreadable gold and black lettering and painted illustrations but was interrupted by the sound of a metal key in the lock. The cell door swung open.

Two guards shoved a dirty man wearing ragged clothes inside. His face was bloody, as if he’d recently been beaten, and he smelled like he’d just been rolling around in a pile of cow manure.

“Here’s some company for you, witch boy,” the smirking guard told Maddox. “If you live through the night with the likes of him in here, the goddess will see you first thing tomorrow.”

“Wait, no—” Maddox began, but they closed the door, and the small cell was plunged back into shadows.

The man stood in the center of the cell, staring at Maddox, his eyes shiny orbs in the center of his dirty, bloody face.

Maddox exchanged a wary, worried look with Becca.

“Today,” the man said. “Tomorrow. Yesterday. All of them. All in a row. And here you are, and there we go. Dancing along. Happily and merrily, tra-la-la.”

Maddox heard the guards cackling outside the cell, then saw a bloodshot eye appear at the window, peering in at them.

“Enjoy your new friend, witch boy,” said a guard. “Perhaps Crazy Barney will tear you apart and eat you piece by piece before dawn, sucking the marrow from your bones. Sleep well!”

“Yes, the marrow,” Crazy Barney said, raking his fingers, black with grime, through his long, tangled hair. “My favorite part. Slurp, slurp! Eat it all up!”

Maddox dodged past him to get to the door, and he pounded on it until he was sure his fist would bruise. “Let me out of here!”

The guards just laughed. On his tiptoes, he peered out the window to watch them as they strolled away down the hall, looking in on other prisoners.

“Don’t panic,” Becca said, her attention fixed on their new cellmate. “There’s a way out of this.”

“Really? Suggestions, please?”

“Well, there is that shove-and-choke magic trick you did before. I know you say you can’t control it, but maybe if your life is in jeopardy. . . .”

He chewed his bottom lip. “Any other ideas when that doesn’t work?”

“Ah, he talks to the spirits,” Crazy Barney said, staring up at the ceiling, which was only an inch or two above their heads. He held his arms out to either side, palms up. “Spirits, come to us. Present us with your offerings. We will accept them with gratitude.”

Then he spun around in a slow circle, laughing maniacally.

Maddox stared at him.

Crazy Barney stopped turning and cast a curious look at Maddox. “Are they gone . . . those who listen in? Those who cast their ears in our direction and take pleasure in our discomfort? Silly them, silly us.” He cocked his head. “I’m very hungry. Will dinner be served soon?”

Maddox pressed his back against the wall. “I’m sure they’ll be back any moment with a tray.”

“Yes, yes. Yes. Of course they will. Wouldn’t want to let their prize prisoner talk too long with someone like me without something to quell my appetite.”

“Talking is good,” Becca said, her expression squeamish. “Keep him talking. He looks seriously crazy.”

Yes, it would seem that Crazy Barney came by his nickname honestly. “We can talk as long as you like . . . Barney. May I call you Barney? I’m Maddox.”

“I know who you are.” Barney moved toward the door, and Maddox jumped out of his way. The man glanced through the tiny window.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Maddox said. Becca was right, keeping him talking was probably the best thing to do. If Barney was busy talking, he wouldn’t be busy craving bone marrow. “Tell me about yourself. From where do you hail? Here in the North? Overseas, perhaps?”

“No time for unimportant questions.” Barney turned around and swept his gaze over Maddox from head to toe.

“Your magic?” Becca stood next to him, fists clenched, as if she was ready to assist him in a fight. “Now would be great.”

“I’m trying. It’s not working,” Maddox growled. His head already hurt from concentrating so hard.

“Try again,” she insisted.

And so he did. He tried to summon his inner strength to shove Crazy Barney backward, cutting off his air supply, hopefully enough to knock him out until the guards returned.