A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,62

encouraged him to use them frequently. To party. To have fun.

And Farrell wanted to kill him.

“Wait, what are you—?” Michael began, but Farrell was there, yanking him to his feet.

“Stay the hell away from my brother. Hear me?” Farrell punched him in the throat.

Michael gasped and sputtered, clutching his neck. As Farrell came at him again, Michael tried to fight back, but he was at a disadvantage.

Senses, strength, clarity.

A cold and precise purpose: Protect Adam.

Farrell threw Michael onto the dance floor, which cleared immediately. The shrieks and yells echoed in Farrell’s ears. His fist connected with Michael’s nose, and he felt it break. Michael screamed.

A few more punches, and the kid collapsed to the ground. Farrell jumped on top of him, hitting him in the face over and over until all he saw was blood.

Someone grabbed hold of his arms to stop him. “You’re going to kill him!”

It was the club’s bouncer. He was strong and managed to drag Farrell up to his feet.

Michael just lay there, convulsing, whimpering.

“Don’t get up,” Farrell warned him.

“Trust me, buddy,” the bouncer said. “He’s not getting up anytime soon.”

Farrell turned a cool, calm look on the bouncer, sizing him up. He was larger than him, taller than him, and looked like trouble.

“Here.” Farrell pulled out his wallet and tucked five one-hundred-dollar bills into the bouncer’s shirt pocket. “Take care of this for me, okay, pal?”

The bouncer grabbed the money, frowning down at the bills.

Farrell didn’t wait for a confirmation. Money talked; it always did.

He grabbed Adam and pulled him out of the club, ignoring the stares from those who’d watched the one-sided fight. He didn’t let go of his brother until they were outside.

“Get in the car, kid.”

Adam just stared at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“You . . . what you did in there. You didn’t have to nearly beat him to death.”

“He gave you drugs.”

“So what? He didn’t force them on me. He offered, I took them. I wanted to see what it was like.”

“That’s how it starts.”

Adam eyes were wide. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I feel great. Actually, I’ve never felt better.” He flexed his fist, expecting to see bruised and bloodied knuckles, but his hand was unblemished.

“That wasn’t you,” Adam said, shaking his head. “That was a . . . a monster.”

“Enough melodrama. Let’s go.” He moved toward Adam, who flinched away from him as if he couldn’t bear to be touched.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“I’m your brother,” Farrell said, relishing the cool sensation within him that made him see the world clearly. “And I only want to protect you.”

Chapter 15

MADDOX

When the guards arrived at dawn to take him to his second audience with the goddess, he was ready.

“He’s coming with me,” Maddox insisted, nodding toward Barnabas.

The blond guard glanced at “Crazy Barney” and laughed. “Bonded overnight, did you?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“He can’t come with you.”

“The goddess wants me to use my magic to help her. And my magic—it’s very unpredictable. But with Barney around, it’s much easier to control. How can I explain it?” Maddox tapped his chin, as if thinking deeply. “Have you ever had a good luck charm?”

The dark-haired guard nodded. “I had a hen’s toe that my grandfather once gave me. Brought me great luck until I lost it.”

“Yes, exactly. He’s my hen’s toe,” Maddox said, nodding. “If he’s not in the same room, I might not be able to access my magic. And I don’t think the goddess will be pleased if I tell her that my humble request was denied.”

This earned him groans and dirty looks from the guards, but after much debate, they decided to bring Barnabas, in chains, along with them to the throne room.

That went smoothly, Maddox thought. Perhaps Livius taught him how to lie better than he’d ever realized.

Barnabas had refused to share any real details about his plan. “Get me in that throne room and be ready for our imminent escape,” he’d said. “And I also have a task for your spirit friend while we’re otherwise occupied.”

Later, after he’d fallen asleep and started to snore, Becca regarded Maddox with disbelief.

“I don’t trust him,” she said. “He’s crazy.”

“It’s an act.”

“Who would break into a dungeon, even if it’s to get to you?”

“A madman.”

“Exactly. He knows too much about what you can do. He only wants to use you.”

“If he can get me out of here alive, I might be all right with that.”

“I like a nice walk,” Barnabas said now, his chains clanking with every step, drawing Maddox’s