A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,95
to strangers and never see her again. We also knew we needed to keep a close eye on this baby—in case the mix of human and . . . and Markus . . . created something bad.”
“Becca isn’t bad,” Crys managed, every muscle in her body now tense.
“I know. But we didn’t know that then. I—I told Daniel that I couldn’t have any more children, but I wanted to adopt. At the time, he only wanted me to be happy, so he agreed. I handled all the details. He never knew the truth of her origins. I’d planned to tell Becca she was adopted when she turned eighteen.” Her mother finally met her gaze with glossy eyes. A tear escaped and slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Crys. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
As Crys absorbed this stunning information, the world dimmed to the point that she could barely see anything. Blood pounded behind her eyes, in her ears.
“You’re not lying, are you?” The words came out as a hoarse whisper. “About any of this.”
“I wish I were, but I’m not. Now listen, Crystal. Listen very carefully. You can never tell anyone about this. Not even your father. Especially not your father.” Her mother reached across the table to squeeze Crys’s hands so tightly it hurt. She didn’t pull away. “If I’d had any choice, I would have taken this secret to my grave.”
Crys swallowed hard, fighting the tears that had been threatening to fall all morning. “So Becca’s not my sister. She’s . . . she’s my cousin.”
“No. Becca is your sister, and nothing will ever change that. Do you hear me? Nothing.”
This shocking, crucial, and previously missing piece of information helped connect the rest of the dots for Crys. And in the wake of all this mind-blowing news, she couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.
Her mother looked at her with alarm. “What could possibly be funny right now?”
“Only that . . . now I know I never should have opened that package from Jackie.”
Julia sighed, looking exhausted. “No, you really shouldn’t have.”
As her mind began to clear a little, Crys felt like she needed a drink. A strong one. Coffee wouldn’t do, but maybe another whiskey sour. . . .
Which made her think of something else, and someone else. “Mom, you don’t happen to remember, back when you were a member, if the Graysons were a part of the society, do you? You know, the really rich guy who’s always in the news? Edward Grayson and his family?”
She took no time at all to think about it. “Yes. Actually, they were among Hawkspear’s most elite members. Why do you ask?”
Seeing Farrell and the mugger together in the limo earlier had been a huge mystery to her, one that had made her doubt her own eyes.
But now everything was beginning to make sense.
Chapter 22
FARRELL
It had been two days since he’d last seen Crys. Farrell had decided that, since she hadn’t jumped on the chance to contact him again—despite the brilliant idea of sending her the camera—he had to take action.
He pushed open the door to the Speckled Muse Bookshop. There were several customers inside, a couple at the front register paying for their purchases—there Crys was, behind the register—and some browsing the shelves. The store smelled musty, like any old building might. But it also smelled of the paper, leather, and binding glue of the books. The wood of the shelves.
And . . . strawberries.
He’d developed a strong craving for strawberries over the last few days.
Farrell moved deeper into the surprisingly expansive shop. From the outside, it looked no bigger than a convenience store, but inside it went on and on. He paused in the mystery section and eyed the books so he’d appear to be an actual customer.
A black-and-white kitten peered out at him, seated on top of several Sue Grafton hardcovers.
“Hello there,” he said. “Are you the speckled muse herself? Get it? ‘Mews’?”
He reached forward to pet it, but the cat hissed at him and raked its claws over his hand, drawing blood.
“Stupid little—” He moved to grab the beast by its furry neck, but it scurried away before he could even touch it.
“Farrell?” Crys said from his right. “Is that you?”
He fixed a charming grin on his face and turned toward her, slipping his injured left hand into his pocket. “In the flesh.”
“You’re here. Wow. This is a surprise.”
Today she wore faded jeans, very tight on her thighs and hips, which