A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(71)



“I’m okay. Thank God . . .” She reached up to touch his face, her trembling fingers hovering just over his skin.

He frowned down at her. “Trust me, I am no god.”

“I know.” She managed the slightest edge of a smile. “I forgot where I was for a second. But I’m not thanking any goddess.”

“You confuse me.”

“I don’t mean to, really. And if I might say it again, you’re amazing. You are amazing. Are you hearing me?”

“Amazing enough to nearly get you killed.” He watched with unguarded relief as the color came back to her face. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet. I’m haunting you, remember?”

Barnabas watched, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim, as Maddox and Becca slowly returned to the campfire.

“No more spirit-summoning tonight,” Maddox told him fiercely.

He nodded. “But you did it. Of course I couldn’t see anything, but it looks like it went well.”

“Not well at all.”

“I disagree. You summoned the spirit and then you trapped it, just as I expected you could. Do you now believe in the greater possibilities of your magic?”

Maddox and Becca exchanged a long glance before Maddox looked at Barnabas, nodding once. “I do.”

Barnabas gave him a big grin. “Glad to hear it.”





Chapter 19


CRYSTAL



“Excuse me, miss, but can you help me find a book?”

Crys turned from the bookshelf she was organizing to face a customer, a tall man with thick glasses. Her mother had closed the shop for four days, but it couldn’t stay shuttered any longer than that. The doors opened for business again on Thursday, and both Julia and Crys were on duty—her mother at the front register, Crys shelving books and straightening up in the back.

“Sure, what are you looking for?”

“It’s for my daughter. Something about a princess.”

“Do you have anything more to go on?”

“I think there’s a dragon in it? Also, the princess wears some sort of grocery bag instead of a gown.”

Crys nodded. “That definitely narrows it down. It’s The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch, one of my all-time favorites. I think we have a few copies in stock.” She showed him to the children’s nook, where she located a copy. He inspected the cover happily.

“Thank you! Tracking down precious books must be your calling. My daughter will love this.”

He went to pay for the book as Crys tried to figure out if that was a compliment or a curse.

She knew that working in a bookshop all her life wasn’t her calling. Maybe Becca’s, but not hers.

Still, as she shelved, a part of her—the part that had once loved this shop and its books with the same fierceness of the family members who’d founded it—rose to the surface. Surrounded by the intricate cover art, the grand-sounding author names, the intriguing titles that promised adventure and escape between the crisp covers . . .

“Crys,” her mother called, breaking her reverie. “Come up here.”

The Paper Bag Princess customer had left by the time Crys emerged from the maze of shelves. “Yeah?”

“A package just came for you.” She nodded at a box on the counter.

Crys approached it cautiously. “From who?”

“I don’t know. There’s no return address.” She paused. “Well, are you going to open it?”

“I haven’t had much luck opening mysterious packages this week.”

“At least this time it’s addressed to you,” she replied pointedly, one eyebrow arched.

Wincing at her mother’s sharp tone, Crys began to open the parcel slowly and carefully, not knowing what to expect inside.

She pulled away the tissue wrapping to reveal something she had to blink twice to believe.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said aloud.

“Who on earth sent you that?” her mother exclaimed.

It was a Canon EOS Rebel DSLR camera, a top-of-the-line digital model. Unlike the old Pentax, this one came standard with a powerful auto pop-up flash. So out of her price range that she could never, ever even consider purchasing it on her own, at least until she had established herself as a professional photographer.

There was an envelope inside with Crys’s name on it. She opened it up so quickly that the edge of the paper sliced her index finger. The unexpected paper cut stung terribly, and she sucked on her finger as she read the card.

I’m very sorry your sentimentally valuable camera got smashed. I know you’ll take many incredible pictures with this one. Might this oh-so-shiny gift from your newest friend help change your maybe into a yes?—Farrell

Farrell Grayson had bought her a new camera. An amazing new camera she’d never dreamed she could have. While she had had a deep fondness for the Pentax and the memorable black-and-white shots she’d taken with it and developed herself, this one . . .

Well, this was too good to be true.

“Who’s Farrell? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” her mother said, glancing at the note before Crys could tuck it back into the envelope.

“I don’t.” She bit her bottom lip.

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