A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,91
again at the brown leather-bound book, its cover emblazoned with a bronze hawk. “What about it?”
She looked stunned, as if completely petrified. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.
“That’s the book that sent me here.”
Chapter 21
CRYSTAL
Her father drove her back to the Tim Hortons where he’d picked her up. As soon as he gave her permission to do so, Crys peeled the blindfold away from her eyes.
“You all right?” he asked. They’d been silent for nearly the entire ride.
“I will be.” She rubbed her eyes, pulled her glasses out of her bag, and slid them back on. “You believe in Markus and his vision for the future, don’t you?”
“Yes. Without any reservations, yes,” he replied, those mirrored lenses still covering his eyes. “And now that you know all the things I could never tell you before, I know you’re going to make the right choice.”
Crys nodded and leaned forward to give him a quick hug. “Thanks, Dad.”
He patted her back. “Now, go. Your mother will wonder where you’ve gotten to.”
She got out of the car and watched him pull away. She stood there until he drove around a corner and his car disappeared from view.
Instead of going home or even heading to the hospital to check on Becca, Crys set out on a walk along Bloor Street. She needed time to think, to work everything out in her head.
Her entire world had shifted on its axis over the last week. So much of the information she’d learned was so far-fetched that it seemed impossible. She’d never been the type to read horoscopes, to get excited about visiting psychics, or to believe in the possibility that the rabbit hadn’t been in the magician’s hat all along.
This—this answer she’d received after meeting Markus herself—had been completely unexpected. What he’d shown her of his magic was real, and she couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to.
She looked down at her healed index finger and rubbed it with her thumb.
An immortal god, she thought. Did I really meet an immortal god today?
She stopped at the intersection of Bay and Bloor, waiting for the light to turn green and the pedestrian sign to switch on. Then something caught her eye. A black limo, its back window rolling down so someone inside could flick out a cigarette butt.
The window was tinted and didn’t roll down all the way, but it gave her enough of a view inside for her to see a face.
Farrell’s face.
Her heart skipped a beat.
But then, in the split second before he rolled the window back up, she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Someone was sitting next to him. Someone she recognized, but it took her a moment to place the face. And when she did, it made no sense to her.
It looked like the boy who’d tried to steal her bag.
Why would he be riding in a limo with Farrell? Her eyes must be playing tricks on her.
The light turned green, and the limo drove away.
She tossed and turned in bed all night as she wondered about Farrell, about her father and mother, about Markus.
The next morning, she went to the kitchen and sat down at the small table. The coffee had started to brew thanks to its automatic timer.
Soon, a bleary-eyed Julia Hatcher entered the room and headed straight for the coffee.
“Exactly what I need,” she murmured, pouring herself a mug and adding cream and sugar. “Good morning. You’re going to school today, I hope?” Crys just looked at her, her expression an exact translation of the concern she felt in her heart. “What’s wrong?”
“I know, Mom.”
Her mother sat down across from her and took a sip from the mug. “Know what?”
It was time to get it all out, come what may. She braced herself and took a breath.
“I know about the Hawkspear Society. I know that you and Jackie once belonged, too, along with Dad. And I know about the Bronze Codex.”
Her face went pale. “And let me guess. Your father told you all this?”
“Some of it,” she admitted. “But I learned the rest from Markus King.”
Her mother shot up to her feet so fast her chair skittered backward. “That’s impossible.”
Now, that was a reaction that told her plenty. If Crys had received a bland “That’s nice, dear,” she would have known that her mother was still doing her playing-dumb routine.
“Markus met with me. He invited me to his home.”
Her mother shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“He’s young and handsome. At least, he looks that way. He says