A Book of Spirits and Thieves (Spirits and Thieves #1)(92)

“So he knows I figured out all your secrets.”

“Not all my secrets. Just one.” He smirked. He knew she wanted him to feel bad, to feel guilty about all this. But he didn’t. Which made everything so much simpler.

Crys twisted her silver rose ring. “Why are you doing this?”

“You have something Markus wants. I’m just helping him get it.” He eyed the book she held tight to her chest. “Show it to me.”

“Fetch the girl,” Markus had said when he’d called Farrell earlier. “Bring her to the theater. Ensure that she has the book with her—check for the bronze hawk on the cover. If she doesn’t have it, inform me immediately.”

Reluctantly, she turned the book around.

There was the bronze hawk, just as he’d described.

“Nice to know you can follow directions when given the right motivations,” he said, then cocked his head. “Oh, come on, Crys. Why do you have to be so serious? You work at a bookshop, and now you’re delivering a book. Seems like it fits the job description nicely enough.”

“He has my sister. Did you know that? He stole her right out of the hospital. She’s in a coma, Farrell. A coma. And he kidnapped her.”

Of course he knew that. He was in Markus’s inner circle. “Your point?”

“Do you even have a soul?” she demanded. “Or are you made of pure evil, just like your lord and master?”

He watched her, coolly amused by how hard she was trying to get under his skin. “Go ahead. Compare me to Markus. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

She stared at him in silence for a full minute, a stare so smoldering it practically burned.

“Like what you see?” he asked, trying to rattle her. “Maybe you’re ready to rethink last night’s ‘go to hell’ suggestion and take a closer look.” He patted the seat next to him. “Got to say, I’m totally ready to forgive and forget.”

He’d expected her to respond with a flustered denial, but she just continued to study him.

“Is this really you?” she asked.

“Not sure what you mean.”

Crys shook her head, then took off her glasses and put them in her purse. She placed the book down next to her, then moved across to sit next to him.

He eyed her, now intrigued.

“My mother said the mark you get . . . it can change things. The magic messes with your mind, makes you loyal even though you might feel anything but. Did it do that to you?”

Her mother had said that, had she?

Farrell frowned as he glanced down at his arm where Markus had given him both his first and second marks. He remembered how much it’d hurt as the golden dagger sliced through his skin, the alarming amount of blood that had dripped to the floor. Then the pain of the healing before everything felt better.

He brushed his fingers over his skin. “I’m not sure what I really feel anymore. Sometimes it’s difficult to think straight. Do you think that might be because of the mark?”

“Maybe.” She searched his gaze, her breath quickening. Then she grabbed hold of his hand. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Maybe you can fight against his power over you. You could help me—me and Becca.”

She drew even closer, so close that her addictive strawberry scent enticed him more intensely than ever.

“Do you have any idea how good you smell, Crystal Hatcher?” He reached forward and threaded his fingers into her hair. She watched him carefully, warily, but didn’t try to pull away. “And do you know how absolutely beautiful you are?”

“Farrell . . .”

“I don’t know what to do. Markus’s pull . . . the pull he has over all of us . . . it’s so strong. So hard to fight.” He moved closer, focused on her lips.

“It must be.”

“I have heard of one way to break the power this mark has over me, but I’d need your help. Would you help me, Crys?”

“Of course I would,” she said, breathless. “How can I help?”

He’d drawn so close he could almost brush his lips against hers. “To break the mark’s control, I need to . . . have sex with a really gullible blonde.”

She reared back from him, her expression going from hopeful to outraged in a split second. Then she smacked him, hard, across his face.

“Ow!” He laughed and rubbed his cheek as she scooted back to her side of the limo.

“I hate you.”

“Didn’t look like it a moment ago. Word to the wise, sweetheart, even if this mark did make me Markus’s loyal and unquestioning servant”—he held up his left forearm—“I’d be okay with it. I’ve never felt better in my life. And as far as how I feel about you? I don’t feel anything at all. Markus asked me to bring you to him, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“So loyal. Like a trained poodle.”

There was a time not long ago when an insult like that might have incensed him. Tonight, all he felt was calm. He lit a cigarette, not even registering that she gave him a venomous look as he blew the smoke in her direction.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen to see a text from Adam.

where are you? want to see a movie tonight?

It seemed that his brother had finally forgiven him for what happened at Firebird.