A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(91)

It went directly to voice mail.

“Markus knows that we have the Codex, and he knows what it did to Becca. They took her from the hospital, and now Dad says I need to hand the Codex over. If I don’t, I don’t know what’s going to happen. . . .” Her chest was so tight it was nearly impossible to breathe. “Call me as soon as you get this. I don’t know what to do.”

She hung up and immediately tried Jackie’s phone, which also went to voice mail. She left Jackie a similar message.

Who else could help her? She thumbed through the other names in her phone until she came to one that made her pause.

F. GRAY

She stared at it, her heart thundering in her chest.

DELETE

Crys ran the rest of the way home and started searching.

“Damn it, Mom, why didn’t you tell me where you put it?” She had a half hour left to find it—that was it.

She checked under beds and in closets as she sped through the apartment as fast as she could. She even checked inside the oven, since her mother rarely ever used it for cooking. It would make a great hiding spot.

But, like everything else, it turned up empty. Where was it? She didn’t even know if it was still in the building. It could be anywhere—a safe-deposit box, buried in the ground, hidden in the hollow of a tree trunk.

No. Her mother was practical and would want to keep it close, just in case.

And where better to hide a book than in a bookshop?

Crys ran down the spiral staircase to the Speckled Muse, nearly twisting her ankle in her rush.

“Come on, think. Where would she put it?” Crys turned around in a circle, trying to get inspired. Trying to think like her mother.

She scanned the shelves as she walked up and down the aisles, searching for that plain brown leather spine, but the shop had thousands of titles and the shelves seemed to be more endless than usual. There was no way she could search the entire place in a handful of minutes.

Crys ended up in the children’s nook, yanking books off the shelves, searching for hidden compartments she might not have noticed before.

Nothing.

She had only five minutes until her mystery ride showed up.

She wasn’t going to find it. Neither her mother nor Jackie had replied to her messages with a miraculous solution to save the day. She was on her own with no clue what to do.

Hot tears of frustration slid down her cheeks before the dam broke and loud, wracking sobs escaped from her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore; it was all too much. The pressure of the truth, and all the lies and deception, all the fear and uncertainty she’d encountered on the way to discovering it: It all finally crashed down on her with the weight of a collapsing building.

This was all her fault.

She dropped to the ground, surrounded by all the fallen books—books she’d read when she was younger, when she’d loved the written word and the escape it offered. She ran her hand over a fantasy novel that had been one of Becca’s favorites.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then pulled her legs to her chest and lay there, her cheeks wet, her heart aching. “I wanted to help you, but I failed.”

Charlie entered the nook, now at eye level with her. He came closer, and, as if sensing her distress, he nuzzled his face against the top of her head.

“What do I do, Charlie? Please tell me what to do.”

He pranced over to an empty bottom bookshelf, where he curled up in a ball and went to sleep.

“Helpful, thanks,” she whispered.

Crys kept her eyes on the kitten until her gaze drifted a couple of inches away. From her supine position, she could see a gap between the shelf and the floor.

And that something had been tucked into that small space.

Her chest tightened. “No way.”

She crawled over to the gap, pushing the fallen books out of the way, and reached under the shelf to pull out the hidden object.

It was the Bronze Codex.



A black limousine arrived right on schedule. Crys slung her fuchsia bag over her shoulder, clutched the Codex to her chest, and left the store.

The chauffeur wore an unreadable expression as he came around to the back to open up the door for her. She faltered, but only momentarily. Summoning every last shred of courage she had left, she climbed inside.

The chauffeur shut the door behind her.

“I bet you thought we’d never see each other again,” Farrell Grayson said. “And yet, here we are.”





Chapter 25


FARRELL



If looks could kill . . .

Farrell tried not to grin at the fiery glare he received from Crys Hatcher as she got into the back of the limo. He failed.

Hatred emanated off her in palpable waves as they drove away from the bookshop.

“Don’t you feel like chatting?” he asked.

“Why you?” she said through clenched teeth.

“That is a very philosophical question. Why any of us? Why do we exist? What is our reason for being here? Is it all just a waste of time?”

“Why did they send you and not someone else?”

“Because Markus knows what good friends we’ve become.”

“Cut the crap.”

He spread his hands, as if in surrender. “Markus asked me to be your escort tonight. I told him you might not appreciate seeing me again so soon after our date yesterday.”