A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,72

be wary of things that seemed too good to be true. And Farrell, despite his DUIs and his interest in cigarettes and vodka, was just that. “Maybe.”

“I can accept a maybe.” He reached across the table and grabbed Crys’s phone. “Here’s my number. Text me if you ever want to hang out, talk about magic, confess your deepest, darkest secrets. I’m available twenty-four-seven.”

“Really. Twenty-four-seven?”

“What can I say? I get bored easily and I’m not a big TV fan.” He handed her phone back, and his fingers brushed against hers as she took it. “But it’s funny. You don’t bore me, not one little bit. That’s rare.”

“Ditto,” she said.

Yes, she said ditto. Like something out of a dumb old movie.

With a mumbled goodbye, she left the bar and let the cool air pull her out of her slightly tipsy state. Alcohol—not a great idea. She’d almost told him everything.

It would be smartest not to contact him again. She knew one thing for certain: He might not have anything to do with magic books or secret societies, but Farrell Grayson was definitely dangerous.

Chapter 17

FARRELL

Once again, Farrell’s hypothesis had been proved: Deep down, all girls were the same. Flash them a smile, buy them a drink, make them feel important.

Putty in his hands.

Despite her disinterest that first day on the university campus, Crys Hatcher was no different from the rest. Too bad he couldn’t get her to stay a little longer. A couple more whiskey sours and he was sure he could have gotten all the information he needed to satisfy Markus.

His target was cute enough, he supposed, but a tad too artsy for his usual taste in girls. Still, he had to admit there was something about her that intrigued him. Maybe it was the way she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous. It made him wonder if that mouth of hers also tasted like strawberries.

The only new information he’d managed to learn about Crys was that she believed in magic. That was a big clue as to why she might matter to Markus. Maybe she’d taken an incriminating photo with that old camera of hers. Maybe she’d inadvertently discovered some dangerous information about the society.

He knew he wasn’t nearly finished with her just yet.

Farrell texted Lucas on his way home from the bar.

Thanks for the help tonight, but you didn’t have to hit me so hard, you dick.

Lucas returned the text almost immediately.

Your new girlfriend broke my nose.

He grinned as he typed his response. The best laid plans . . . often lead to pain. But it worked perfectly. She was all over me.

What are you doing now? Lucas texted next.

Nothing.

I’m going out. Got a tip on someone that M will want to invite to the next meeting. Usually would wait on this, but don’t want to let him slip away.

A tip on a criminal they could capture for the next society meeting, the first one since Farrell had been accepted into Markus’s circle. He wondered where the evildoers were kept as they waited for the next gathering.

The thought of participating in a capture excited him.

I’m in.

“Saw the video of you at Firebird,” Lucas said when they met up at Yonge and Dundas square, across from the Eaton Centre. The downtown Toronto mall and tourist attraction had closed over an hour ago, but the sidewalk outside was full of pedestrians and the street was jammed with cars. Neon store signs pulsed and glowed from up above, lighting up the night. This was the heart of the city, always busy. Always alive and throbbing with energy.

“Yeah?” Farrell had his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Love how you managed to tilt it. Rich kid protects brother from evil drug dealer . . . quote, unquote.”

“That wasn’t my tilt, just a lucky break.”

Michael, the guy Farrell had beaten up, was a known drug dealer currently on parole. Someone had uploaded the video of the incident to the Internet and had taken Farrell’s side, calling him an “avenging angel.”

No charges were pressed—at least not against him.

Adam, however, hadn’t said a single word to him since. Farrell had decided to give his kid brother the chance to cool off, a chance to realize he’d only done what he did to help.

His brother had stayed at home all day, tucked into bed nursing a head cold. Their parents didn’t discuss Adam’s current health with Farrell. He’d overheard them, however, discussing it with each other.

“The mark will take care of future illnesses, won’t