A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,83
before.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he said.
He didn’t pick her up at the bookshop, of course. He picked her up in front of the Tim Hortons around the corner at Bloor and Spadina, the spot where, once upon a time, the Hatchers used to go for hot chocolate, coffee, and donuts, as a family.
“What T-shirt is it today?” he asked when she got into his car. He wore mirrored wraparound sunglasses over his pale blue eyes.
“I just changed to a plain black one,” Crys said. “I figured, if I’m meeting the leader of a secret society, he probably isn’t the kind of man who appreciates whimsical fashion choices.”
The corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile. “Don’t be nervous.”
“Do I look nervous?”
“Yes, you do. Extremely.”
She managed a shaky grin. It still completely blew her mind that she was sitting in a car with her estranged father, on her way to meet with the leader of a secret society. “I guess I get nervous about things that matter to me.”
“We have that in common.” He shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb as Crys started to put on her seat belt.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
His lips thinned. “I can’t tell you exactly. To be honest, Crissy, I can’t tell you much about the society unless you become an initiated member.”
He’d always been a careful driver, hands at ten and two, and it appeared that nothing had changed. Crys had her driver’s license but rarely asked to borrow her mother’s car. The subway or her own two feet worked fine to get her where she usually wanted to go.
“Does your mother know we’ve been in contact?” he asked.
“No,” she said, watching him carefully to see if he detected her lie. His expression remained even, but she wished she could see his eyes to know for sure.
“How has she been?” he asked.
“Same as ever. Grumpy, always working at the shop, sometimes modestly pleasant to be around.”
“And her cooking?”
“She still makes fantastic scrambled eggs.”
He laughed. “So she hasn’t bothered to learn how to cook.”
“You were the great chef in the family. I think I’ve lost ten pounds since you left us.” The sentence ended on a much heavier note than she’d intended.
“And Becca? How is she?” he asked after an uncomfortably silent moment.
“She’s fine.” She couldn’t tell him about Becca. Not yet. She still had so many unanswered questions and was still uncertain about him. “She misses you, too. You should, I don’t know, e-mail her. Or something. Just let her know you’re okay and you’re thinking about her.”
“I’ll consider it.”
She pressed back in the seat. “Do you think you ever would have gotten in touch with me? I mean, if I hadn’t been the first to text you?”
He was silent for a moment. “Your mother was adamant that I stay away.”
“I usually take her adamant requests with a grain of salt, but that’s just me.”
Again, they went quiet as Crys tried to think of a question to ask that might actually get her some answers.
But he spoke first. “Crissy, there’s something about this meeting that you’re probably not going to like.”
She braced herself, half expecting him to finally unburden himself and tell her everything. “What?”
“This.” He pulled something out of the glove compartment. It was a long black piece of cloth.
“Is that a blindfold?” she asked uneasily.
He nodded. “You can’t see where I’m taking you, and you can’t know the route.”
“Why not?”
He let out a long sigh. “Please, Crissy, just do as I ask. Don’t argue or the meeting is canceled.”
She regarded the blindfold with apprehension and considered her options. But nothing other than doing as he asked came to mind.
“Fine,” she said. She took off her glasses, slipped them into her bag, and then put on the blindfold, tying it into a knot at the back of her head.
The world went dark all around her.
“This is all very cloak-and-dagger,” she said, trying to sound natural, as if putting on a blindfold to meet someone like Markus King was totally routine for her.
He snorted softly. “If I’d known years ago that all it would take to get you to behave was to tell you that you might be able to join a secret society . . .”
“I really don’t like the word behave. A lot of rules were meant to be broken.” Crys bit her bottom lip. “Aren’t you concerned that someone will notice that you’re driving around with a blindfolded girl in your front seat?”