A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(70)

“What do you think, Becca?” Barnabas asked. “Do you think Maddox should show us and himself that he has more control over his magic than he thinks he does?”

“I absolutely do,” she said, even though only Maddox could hear her reply. “I know you can do this. You can do amazing things and the only one who doesn’t believe it is you.”

Now it was two against one. That wasn’t fair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Stop overthinking it and just do it.”

They continued to encourage him to embrace the very thing that he was now certain was a curse. Finally, he became tired of resisting. “Fine. I’ll try. But I need something silver to trap it, just in case.”

“Have you ever tried trapping spirits in other precious metals? Or, perhaps, a mirror. Or . . . an apple.” Barnabas threw one of his stolen pieces of fruit at Maddox, who caught it in his right hand.

Maddox took a big bite of the sweet, juicy piece of fruit, chewed, and swallowed. “I know it works with silver, so let’s stay with that for now.”

Barnabas glanced down at his hand. “Here.” He pulled off his thick ring and tossed it at Maddox. “That’s silver. At least, that’s what the man I stole it from told me.”

Maddox inspected the ring with doubt. “Normally I do it with a silver container.”

“What difference does it make? Like you said, you can’t even summon spirits on command. You won’t even need to use it.”

The challenge had been issued. He didn’t want to fail with Becca watching his every move so closely.

“Fine.” He closed his eyes, squeezed his hands into fists, and concentrated as hard as he could.

I’m not afraid of you, he thought. Show yourself, spirit.

Maddox pried open an eye to see Barnabas studying him, crunching down on another apple.

“Nothing interesting has happened yet,” Barnabas informed him.

Becca had moved to sit on the fallen log behind him. “Keep trying,” she suggested.

He squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to push away his doubt and fear.

He concentrated on the smell of the campfire. The sound of crackling wood. The cool breeze brushing against his arms and face. The sweet taste of the apple on his tongue.

Then: darkness before him, surrounding him. Darkness everywhere.

“Come to me now, spirit,” he said aloud. “Show yourself. I command you to obey.”

His voice was calm and confident, and he summoned the shadows as if they would respond to him. As if they would obey him.

Something shifted deep inside him. The brisk evening air grew colder.

Becca screamed. “Maddox!”

His eyes snapped open.

A shadow had risen from the ground, a formless, shapeless shroud of midnight. It edged closer to Becca, and she rose from her seat to stagger away from it.

“So hungry,” a ragged, broken, and pained voice said.

“No,” Maddox gasped.

Barnabas shot up to his feet and dropped his half-eaten apple. “Did it work?”

Maddox didn’t reply. Instead, he moved swiftly toward Becca, focused on nothing but saving her. He grabbed for the spirit, but his hands went right through it, the smoky substance of its form icy cold.

“What’s happening?” Becca cried. Unlike him, she was able to make contact with the shadowy creature, Maddox assumed with growing panic, because they were both in spirit form. “How do I stop it?”

“She will make a fine meal,” the spirit said. “Much gratitude for summoning me here, necromancer.”

He froze with fear. This spirit had the power to devour Becca, to destroy her. To kill her.

And he had been the one to bring it here.

Becca shrieked as the spirit swirled around her like a thick black snake, pulling her up into the air. She fought against it but appeared to be weakening. Her punches and kicks slowed, her skin became pale and ashen in mere moments.

“Maddox . . . ,” she managed. “Please . . . I believe in you.”

His fear vanished and was replaced with steely determination. He would not let the spirit hurt this girl. He would not let anyone hurt this girl.

He held up Barnabas’s ring and focused again, just as he had before the spirit was summoned. There was another shadow there, deep inside him. It was made of death magic. It called to the darkness.

“I command you, spirit! Leave her and come to me. Obey me now!”

The spirit stopped swirling, freezing in place. Then, letting out a horrible, ragged cry, it streamed toward Maddox, toward the silver ring he held. It collided violently with the metal, then disappeared.

Becca fell to the ground and Maddox rushed to her side. He tried to gather her into his arms, but of course his hands slipped right through her form.

“Apologies,” he said, his eyes stinging as the fear and panic he’d been holding back now crashed over him again. He shoved the ring in his pocket, telling himself he’d bury it later, after he’d made sure she was all right. “A million apologies for putting you in harm’s way.”

She was a spirit who laughed. Who breathed. Who fell. Who got hurt. A spirit who believed in him when he didn’t believe in himself. Who’d given him something to fight for when he didn’t even know he was a fighter.

A spirit who’d come to mean so much to him so quickly that his heart ached at the thought of ever losing her.