A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,43
the book, about everything.”
“Not all pit bulls are like that, you know. It’s all in the upbringing. Kind of a good metaphor, really, now that I think about it.”
“You’re changing the subject. You’re just like Mom.”
Jackie gasped. “How dare you!”
She said it so theatrically, in such a quintessentially cheerful Jackie-voice, that it brought everything back to normal between them. Jackie and Julia were as different from each other as Crys was from Becca.
“Look, sweetie, I don’t entirely agree with my big sister. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re a young woman, and, quite honestly, I think you could be a great help to us.”
“A help with what?”
“With my plan to destroy Markus King.” There was a pregnant pause, and Crys wasn’t sure if Jackie was being serious or still putting on a theatrical show. “That sounded epically melodramatic, didn’t it?”
Crys tried to compose herself because, yes, it sounded like the proclamation of a storybook warrior heading out on a quest to slay a dragon. “Well, according to Dad, Markus is one of the good guys. He’s set up this society of his to help save the world.”
“Oh my God. Kill me now. You’ve spoken to your father about this?”
“Yup. But don’t worry. I didn’t say anything about Becca or the book.”
“And what did that asshat say to you?”
“Jackie—” An unexpected burst of laughter escaped from Crys’s throat.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for saying that out loud,” Jackie said. “But he is an asshat, and that’s me being extremely gentle with my language. He told you Markus is a stand-up guy, did he?”
“He did. Only not in those words.”
“I’m not surprised he’s still fully on Team Markus, but he’s wrong. Look evil up in a dictionary and there will be a picture of Markus.” She went silent for a moment. “I know your mother can be an asshat, too, sometimes, and we don’t always see eye to eye—to say the least. But trust me—she’s only being an asshat because she loves you. She wants to protect you from . . . this.”
Trust me.
“If you want me to trust you, I need you to tell me everything you know about that book. What is it? Where did it come from? And why do you think Markus wants it so bad?” Crys reached for Becca’s hand again while cradling the cell phone on her shoulder.
“There’s too much to tell and no time to tell it.”
“This is not helping.”
“You’re a smart-ass, you know that?”
“I inherited that trait from my favorite aunt.”
Jackie laughed, a genuine sound from her belly. “Look, I’m trying to get back to Canada, but I’m having a bit of a problem leaving Paris.”
“What sort of problem?”
“Uh, let’s just say I’m currently wanted by certain . . . authority figures.”
Crys’s brows shot up. “Because you stole the book?”
There was a pause. “Because I steal a lot of things. Some shinier than others. Stay in school, sweetie. Get a good education and you won’t end up like your crazy aunt.”
“Too late for that advice.”
Jackie groaned. “A subject to discuss in further depth when I finally get my butt across the ocean. And I will. But in the meantime—and know that I’m going out on a limb here because your mother would murder me if I told her I was bringing you on board—you need to go see someone named Dr. Uriah Vega at his office tomorrow. He’s a professor of linguistic anthropology at the University of Toronto, and we go way back. Mention my name and tell him I said to give you the full monty on the book. He’ll know exactly what to tell you to help clear a few things up. Go after lunch since he teaches all morning.”
A name and a location. It was the best lead she’d had so far. “Thanks,” Crys said. “I’ll do that.”
“Hey . . . remember when I gave you and your sister those self-defense lessons?” Jackie asked.
“Like it was last summer.” Which it had been. “Why? Will I need them?”
“You never know. Just remember my number one lesson, because it’s the most important and useful one of all.” She swore again loudly. “Sorry, I need to scram. I’ll call again as soon as I can, okay?”
But Crys couldn’t remember which lesson was the number one. Right now all she could recall was that a knee to the groin and a finger to the eyeball were very effective methods for suppressing an attacker.