A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(63)

Putty in his hands.

Despite her disinterest that first day on the university campus, Crys Hatcher was no different from the rest. Too bad he couldn’t get her to stay a little longer. A couple more whiskey sours and he was sure he could have gotten all the information he needed to satisfy Markus.

His target was cute enough, he supposed, but a tad too artsy for his usual taste in girls. Still, he had to admit there was something about her that intrigued him. Maybe it was the way she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous. It made him wonder if that mouth of hers also tasted like strawberries.

The only new information he’d managed to learn about Crys was that she believed in magic. That was a big clue as to why she might matter to Markus. Maybe she’d taken an incriminating photo with that old camera of hers. Maybe she’d inadvertently discovered some dangerous information about the society.

He knew he wasn’t nearly finished with her just yet.

Farrell texted Lucas on his way home from the bar.

Thanks for the help tonight, but you didn’t have to hit me so hard, you dick.

Lucas returned the text almost immediately.

Your new girlfriend broke my nose.

He grinned as he typed his response. The best laid plans . . . often lead to pain. But it worked perfectly. She was all over me.

What are you doing now? Lucas texted next.

Nothing.

I’m going out. Got a tip on someone that M will want to invite to the next meeting. Usually would wait on this, but don’t want to let him slip away.

A tip on a criminal they could capture for the next society meeting, the first one since Farrell had been accepted into Markus’s circle. He wondered where the evildoers were kept as they waited for the next gathering.

The thought of participating in a capture excited him.

I’m in.



“Saw the video of you at Firebird,” Lucas said when they met up at Yonge and Dundas square, across from the Eaton Centre. The downtown Toronto mall and tourist attraction had closed over an hour ago, but the sidewalk outside was full of pedestrians and the street was jammed with cars. Neon store signs pulsed and glowed from up above, lighting up the night. This was the heart of the city, always busy. Always alive and throbbing with energy.

“Yeah?” Farrell had his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Love how you managed to tilt it. Rich kid protects brother from evil drug dealer . . . quote, unquote.”

“That wasn’t my tilt, just a lucky break.”

Michael, the guy Farrell had beaten up, was a known drug dealer currently on parole. Someone had uploaded the video of the incident to the Internet and had taken Farrell’s side, calling him an “avenging angel.”

No charges were pressed—at least not against him.

Adam, however, hadn’t said a single word to him since. Farrell had decided to give his kid brother the chance to cool off, a chance to realize he’d only done what he did to help.

His brother had stayed at home all day, tucked into bed nursing a head cold. Their parents didn’t discuss Adam’s current health with Farrell. He’d overheard them, however, discussing it with each other.

“The mark will take care of future illnesses, won’t it, Edward? This is just . . . what? A virus he contracted before the meeting?”

His father had nodded firmly. “I’m sure that’s all it is. That would also explain why he’s had such difficulty coming to terms with the trial.”

“Yes, of course, darling. Time. That’s all he needs.”

“There he is,” Lucas said now, nodding toward a cluster of pedestrians to their right. “Tall, bald head. Nose ring.”

Farrell spotted him easily. The man looked like a biker, rough and dangerous. The cobweb tattoo on his throat was a well-known gang symbol.

“What did he do?”

“Serial rapist. Got off on the last charge on a technicality. Someone in Hawkspear brought Markus his name, told him that this douche is responsible for attacking her cousin and nearly killing her. We heard he was in New York, but he took a flight here two days ago. Lucky break for us.”

“Yeah.” The thought of capturing the guy filled Farrell with fevered anticipation. “You think we can take him down?”

“Maybe not gently, but we’ll take him. For now, we’ll follow and see where he goes. This can’t happen in public.” Lucas had already shown Farrell the special ring he wore on his middle finger. Pull off the top and a syringe appeared with a small dose of etorphine at the ready. One jab to the neck and seconds later they’d have an unconscious prisoner.

Farrell had been promised his ring in the next couple of days. He didn’t usually wear jewelry, but he’d make an exception this time.

They trailed after the guy for a minute in silence.

“Question,” Farrell asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did all of your senses improve after you got the second mark?”

“Hell yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? Like waking up from a coma and seeing the world for the first time. Like Dorothy entering Oz and everything’s in color.”

“No one warned me what a killer bright light would be, though.” Farrell winced as he remembered the unexpected pain he’d felt yesterday morning when he pulled up the blinds in his room. “I have to wear sunglasses all day.”