A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(48)

“So your father saw the book in real life. Who was the owner?”

Vega’s brows drew together, studying Crys as if to second-guess how much of the “full monty” he should actually divulge. “A Toronto woman who had been a classmate of my father’s. She trusted him more than anyone else. He is the one who persuaded her, after a time, to get rid of it.”

“Why?”

“Because, while he was unable to translate it himself, he still knew it was dangerous. So, yes, the book has been lost to us for well over twenty years.”

“Didn’t your father know where it ended up? Or the woman who brought it to him, at least? Couldn’t you have asked?”

“Both of them died fifteen years ago.”

Crys’s chest tightened. “They died . . .” She hated to ask, but she had to. “From natural causes?”

“No. The woman . . .” He swallowed hard. “She fell from the twenty-fifth floor of a high-rise building. My father . . . he drowned. Which is suspicious considering he was a silver medalist for the Canadian Olympic swim team in his youth.”

A chill swept over Crys, raising the fine hairs on her arms. “You’re saying that you think they were murdered because of this book.”

“Yes, I do. I believe they were murdered by Markus King.”

Her breath caught in her chest.

Dr. Vega raised a bushy eyebrow. “You know the name, don’t you?”

All she could do was nod.

“And you know that your aunt wants to use this book to draw King out of his hiding spot—wherever that is. To make him pay for his many crimes.”

“I don’t know all the details, but yes.” She chewed her bottom lip, staring down at a black-and-white sketch of a hawk parting a column of indecipherable words with its wide wings. “How did she find it, after all this time?”

“Nothing more than a lucky break. We found a listing of it in the online archives of an exclusive auction house. I received a tip that a—quote—‘unreadable book’ had been secretly sold into the private collection of a British family who had no idea what they had actually acquired. The family had simply placed it in a curio as if it were nothing more than a valuable first edition to display in their library. It had been hidden there in plain sight for at least a decade, lost to the world, until Jackie found a way to procure it from them.”

“You mean she stole it.”

He shrugged. “Procured. Stole. Your aunt certainly has her ways to get what she wants.”

Crys could easily picture her pretty blond aunt talking her way into a stately British home, scanning the shelves while she flirted with whoever stood in her way, wearing a short skirt and stiletto heels that showed off her long legs. Then the moment their backs were turned, Jackie would have disappeared from the home like a puff of smoke, the book tucked under her arm.

“But what is it, Dr. Vega?” Crys asked, knowing she had yet to uncover the most vital information about the book. “What is the Bronze Codex?”

She expected him to brush off the question, just as her mother had, to change the subject to something safe and distracting. But instead, he studied her for exactly five seconds before pulling a scientific journal out of his lower desk drawer, flipping through the pages, and turning it around so she could read the heading.

Obsidia: A Magical Language from Another World

By Dr. Uriah Vega, PhD

The article was dated fifteen years ago.

“I wrote this shortly after I completed my doctorate,” he explained. “So foolish, looking for credentials and praise, ignoring the potential danger that going public with such information would cause.”

Crys read the heading three times, not understanding. “Fifteen years ago. So around the same time your father and that woman were killed.”

His expression darkened. “That’s right. That’s why I feel personally responsible for their deaths, and why I’ll never forgive myself.”

This article had potentially caused two people with direct knowledge of the book to be murdered.

It’s possible all this was just a coincidence, Crys thought. Or, if it wasn’t, that Markus King isn’t responsible.

But then who was this man to whom her father was so loyal?

“Obsidia is the language in the book?”

“Obsidia is what my father called it. I have retained that name as I try to translate it. I will admit that most of the scholars who’ve read this paper have ridiculed my hypothesis.”

“Your hypothesis that Obsidia is a magical language from another world.”

“Yes.”

She had to admit, it did sound completely insane.

“Here’s what I believe, Miss Hatcher,” he said gravely. “Are you ready for my theory—a theory that your aunt also believes?”

“More than ready.”

“Sixty years ago, this book appeared in Toronto, out of nowhere. Because of some other . . . strange circumstances in her life, the woman who found it believed it was something she needed to hide from others seeking it. So hide it she did, holding her secret to her chest for years before she trusted my father enough to share it with him.

“My father told me that the moment he saw the Codex, the moment he touched it, he knew that it was incredibly rare and special. He had worked with rare books—so-called grimoires and spell books from many cultures and ages—but he’d never come across something that affected him at first sight as this one did. This language, he believed, could potentially unlock the mysteries of the universe—and could imbue great power on anyone who can read and comprehend such a language. This . . . the Bronze Codex . . . is a book of spells from another world, Miss Hatcher.”