bouncing around inside her head as if they were in a pinball machine.
“He’s an immortal . . . god,” she repeated flatly, her throat nearly too tight to speak.
“Yes.” He gazed at Markus with a reverent look in his eyes that told Crys he believed all this without question.
“This is . . .” Crys fought to find her voice. “I—I don’t even know what to say. This was not what I was expecting.”
Markus laughed, and the sound shivered down her spine. “And what were your expectations for today, Ms. Hatcher?”
She forced herself to tear her gaze from her father to look at Golden Boy instead. He watched her with his head cocked, as if curious for her reaction. “Only that I’d be meeting a super old guy who’d probably smell like cough medicine.”
Her father’s jaw tensed. “Crystal, you mustn’t be so disrespectful.”
The corner of Markus’s mouth curved into a small smile. “It’s all right, Daniel. I find her plain way of speaking to be rather refreshing. Now, if you’d please leave your daughter and me for a few moments in privacy, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
Her father hesitated, but only for a short moment. “As you wish.”
Without another word, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
And Crys found herself all alone with an immortal god.
“Ms. Hatcher,” Markus said, “please sit down with me. There’s much I need to ask you if I’m to consider you for membership.”
He indicated a small lounge area in the center of the room, next to a large ebony desk and directly under the skylight in the high ceiling. What was left of the natural light outside helped brighten the shadows that threatened to reach into every corner as the sun began to set.
Crys silently took a seat on a brocade chair and gripped the arms. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Markus since her father left the room, still stunned by the thought that this was the leader of the Hawkspear Society. His clothing was nothing remarkable; he wore black pants and a white button-down.
He sat down across from her. “You’re having a difficult time accepting your father’s words, aren’t you?”
She knew she had a lousy poker face. She’d have to snap out of her stunned fog and start really playing this game if she were to have any chance of winning.
“You mean the thing about how you’re an immortal god? Um . . . yeah, you could say I’m a little stunned. I’ve never met anyone like . . .” She cleared her throat, finding it tightening by the second. “. . . Like you.”
“I’m sure you have many questions, just as I have questions for you. I’d like to go first, if you don’t mind.”
She nodded, trying to keep her stare steady.
“How did you learn about the Hawkspear Society?”
Crys was a terrible liar, so it was her policy to go with the truth whenever possible. Plus, despite Markus’s innocent, youthful appearance, there was something in his intense, wizened gaze that hinted that he was a pro at detecting cons.
“I overheard my mother and aunt on the phone talking about Dad and why he left us. I’d never known the truth before. Or anything about their separation, really.”
“Your mother and your aunt. Julia and . . . Jackie Kendall.”
“Yes.” Of course he’d know their names. He probably knew everything about his members’ families.
“And once you overheard this conversation, you immediately decided you wanted to join a society you knew nothing about?”
“Well, no. What I originally wanted was to have a relationship with my father again. But the more I learned about your society, the more interested I became in it.”
“What exactly did Daniel tell you about Hawkspear?” His tone was even and pleasant, but Crys was not about to mistake this conversation for a friendly chat over tea and cookies. She knew that Markus was only gently grilling her to determine if she was worthy.
She needed to prove herself worthy. She needed to know more about the Bronze Codex, and to do that, she needed to gain Markus’s trust.
“He didn’t tell me much,” she admitted. “He even made me wear a blindfold on the way here. But I do know he’s committed to you. He chose this society over his family. My father never would have made a decision like that lightly. He believes in you. He believes in your mission. And if my father believes in you, then I know I can, too.”
He sat there, silently assessing her. His narrow-eyed