A Book of Spirits and Thieves (19 page)

So much blood. The sight filled Farrell with a cool satisfaction.

A smile curled up the side of his mouth. “Nope. No problem at all.”

“Good.”

He’d accepted the society executions as a necessary evil, but he’d never before been
excited
by the sight of death. To hold another
person’s life in one’s hands, to control his fate . . . now
that
was ultimate power.

Farrell craved more.

“Saving the world,” he said, finding that his mind was every bit as clear as his conscience. “One day at a time.”

Chapter 18

MADDOX

T
hey walked northeast from the goddess’s palace for hours until they reached a thick forest. Their path through the forest narrowed, and the canopy of leaves and branches became as thick above their heads as it had been in Valoria’s throne room. The air smelled fresh here, scented by evergreens and flowering trees. As they silently walked, focusing on their footsteps, the forest came alive with the songs of birds and the buzz of insects.

“I’ll admit it,” Becca said. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It certainly can be,” Maddox replied.

“Do you have seasons here?” she asked. “At home, we just got through winter. It was an extra cold one with tons of snow.”

“I’ve heard of kingdoms that experience changing climates. Mytica isn’t like that. This is how it is all the time. We have rain and thunderstorms, of course, and it can get cooler at night. But it’s always warm during the day.” He gazed around at the trees. “I can’t imagine this kingdom covered in snow and ice.”

“Lucky you,” she mused.

“I don’t know. I think it would be nice to experience something different. So maybe you’re the lucky one.”

“Maybe,” she allowed.

“We’re going to stop for a rest here,” Barnabas announced as the forest thinned out to reveal the edge of a small lake about fifty paces away, its surface like glass reflecting the blue sky. He put his weapons down on the grassy ground. “Our destination is still a day’s journey from here, so I do want to keep going while there’s still light. We’ll stop again at dusk and make camp.”

Becca still looked fresh and lovely despite having kept pace with them all day. Perhaps as a spirit she didn’t experience fatigue like Maddox did. He knew he must be a sight—a sweaty, disgusting mess.

Barnabas began to remove his filthy trousers.

“Um, why is he taking his clothes off?” Becca asked.

“Barnabas, what are you doing?” Maddox asked as the man’s pants hit the ground. Becca turned her back to the scene, her expression turning squeamish.

Barnabas glanced at Maddox. “I’m going to take a bath. The first one I’ve had in, well, by the smell of me, far too long.”

Off came the shirt.

“A bath,” Maddox repeated.

“Yes. A long one.” He nodded. “And I’ll wash my clothes as best I can, too. I suggest you do the same. A couple of days in the dungeon doesn’t do anyone any good.”

Without another word, he wadded up his clothing into a ball and walked toward the lake, completely nude.

“Be careful of lake monsters!” Maddox called after him. Barnabas replied with a laugh.

Becca cringed. “There are lake monsters?”

He wondered if there were lake monsters in her world. He shot her a grin. “They’re just a legend.”

“Lots of legends around here, aren’t there?” She swept her gaze over him and bit her bottom lip. “Are you going to have a bath now, too?”

“I can’t argue that it’s not an excellent idea.”

Still, he didn’t make a single move to start taking off his clothes.

“Why don’t I wait over there?” She gestured to a grassy clearing and raised an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t watch.”

“Can I trust you to keep that promise?”

Her smile was mischievous at the edges. “Cross my heart.”

He frowned. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t peek at the two handsome skinny-dippers. Have fun.”

He watched her walk away, certain he’d heard her wrong.
Handsome?

His grin returned, and he quickly stripped and tucked his clothes beneath his arm. The water felt cold but invigorating as he waded into the lake. When he was submerged to his waist, he started to wash the dirt from his skin. It felt wonderful.

Barnabas floated by on his back, spitting out lake water as if he were a fountain. “I’ll go hunting when we make camp later and bring us back some dinner. Unless you’d like the honor.”

Maddox had never had a father to teach him how to hunt. He’d helped his mother with her snares and her vegetable garden, gotten their bread from the local market, but that hardly counted as practice. “I’m not much of a hunter.”

“That makes one of us. When I was your age, I was the best hunter in the entire kingdom.”

And the most modest about it, too
, Maddox thought. “I’m sure you were.”

“We’ll also take some time this evening to test your magic.”

“Test it how, exactly?” Maddox scrubbed his shirt, attempting to remove the more stubborn stains.

“Don’t worry too much about your clothes, my young friend. We’ll steal more the first chance we get.” Barnabas dove underwater and came up again a moment later, sliding his fingers through his black hair. “As far as the test . . . I haven’t yet seen any real proof of your abilities.”

“You said I was the one who raised the dead in the palace graveyard. Wasn’t that proof enough?”

“That was just a guess. An educated one, but still, only a guess. Did Livius ever help you practice your magic?”

He remembered how Livius would grow disgusted and threaten him whenever Maddox disappointed him. “No. But he got angry when it wouldn’t work on command in front of clients. Luckily, we encountered very few real spirits during our partnership.”

“Partnership, huh?” Barnabas vigorously scrubbed his hair and beard. Now that he was clean, Maddox saw that he was younger than he’d initially guessed. Perhaps only twice Maddox’s age. Barnabas’s smile had fallen away, and he now wore more of a scowl. “You were saddled with him for far too long. I’m surprised your mother was such a poor judge of character when it came to him.”

“What do you know about my mother?” Maddox asked, now guarded. “Do you know her because you knew my father?”

“You could say that.”

“And is that how you know about Livius? I don’t think I ever mentioned him by name.” Maddox watched Barnabas very carefully for his reply.

“Everyone knows about Livius. There was a reward for his capture, you know, for crimes of his past. A good one, too. Damn goddess stole my chance to line my pockets with gold when she caught him and killed him.” He eyed Maddox. “You don’t believe a word coming out of my mouth, do you?”

“Not really,” Maddox admitted.

“Smart boy. Never trust anyone until they’ve proved themselves to you. But give me time. I’ll earn that trust of yours.”

“Swear it on the goddess?”

“I’ll swear it on King Thaddeus’s name.” He grew more serious in moments. “That’s my ultimate plan, you should know. King Thaddeus’s offspring has been kept hidden away for safekeeping since infancy, and I mean to put that rightful child on the throne when I finally do away with Valoria once and for all.”

This seemed like an exceptionally honorable goal to Maddox. He never would have guessed that this crazy thief had such loyalty inside him. “You mean to steal the throne from a goddess and give it to a dead king’s son. That’s a dangerous plan.”

“It’s his
daughter
, actually.” He raised his brow as he swam in a slow circle around Maddox. “You immediately assume the rightful owner of the throne is a boy, huh? What would your pretty little spirit have to say about that?”

The knowledge of Becca’s existence still felt precious, like a priceless jewel he needed to guard.

Could
he trust this man?

He was silent a moment longer, thinking hard. “She says she’s from another world. She says she’s connected to me somehow. . . .”

“Which, if you’re a necromancer, makes sense.” Barnabas lowered his brow. “Another world? Did she really say that?”

“She did.” The skepticism he’d pushed away earlier now came
back with full strength. “I’ve never heard of a necromancer before.”

“You’re sixteen. I’m sure there are many mysteries in this world you’re not aware of yet. Or that I’m not aware of, for that matter.”

“You’ve met another like me?”

“Not exactly like you. No, my friend, you are most definitely one of a kind. But I know your magic is death magic. I’ve seen much proof of it already, but I know you can do more.”

“How do you know?” He tried to piece it together in his mind. “Was it my father? Did he tell you? How would he know anything about me if he’s never known me? Was he a necromancer, too?”

All the humor and openness remaining in Barnabas’s face had disappeared. “There are some things I can’t share with you right now, my friend. You’re going to have to trust me for a while longer, no matter how difficult that request may seem.”

Maddox pressed his lips together and glared at him.

Barnabas shrugged. “Don’t give me that look. Remember, if it weren’t for me, you’d likely be kneeling at the goddess’s skirts, trying to figure out how not to become food for her snake or a new plant for her garden.”

“I could have escaped without your help.”

“Of course you could have.” He nodded, but Maddox felt as if he were being mocked. “Now, back to the subject of your spirit friend. What does she want from you?”

Maddox wasn’t sure that he wanted to share any more information with this strange man. “She thinks I can help her return to her world. And if what you’re saying about whatever is locked within the box we stole is true, there’s a possibility she might be right.”

Barnabas nodded as if what Maddox had just said wasn’t
madness itself. “If a beautiful girl asks for your help because she believes in you, you must help her. Simple as that.”

Then he began to swim away.

“Wait,” Maddox said. “You need to tell me more about my father. How did he die? And did he know about my magic?”

“Later,” Barnabas replied. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about him later.”

Then he dove under the water and disappeared from sight.

Maddox finished before Barnabas did and emerged from the lake, wringing out his clothes before sliding back into them. There was no time to let them dry first. He felt clean and determined as he went in search of Becca, frustrated and angry about his conversation with Barnabas.

He found her seated beneath a tall oak tree in the grassy clearing, her head in her hands.

When he realized she was crying, his heart wrenched.

“Becca, what’s wrong?”

She pulled her hands away from her face to regard him with wide, glossy eyes. “You’re back so soon. I . . . I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I didn’t want to leave you on your own too long.”

She laughed as a shimmering tear slipped down her cheek. “You think you need to protect me? I don’t need protection here, not like you do.”

He stiffened at the suggestion that he couldn’t defend himself. “I’ll have you know, I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” She sighed. “I know you can, okay? But you’re flesh and blood, and I’m . . . I’m a spirit here. A sword could kill you, but it wouldn’t hurt me.”

Of course, she was right. She’d meant no offense. Why was he so
sensitive to every word she spoke? “Apologies for being so harsh.”

She shook her head. “That wasn’t harsh.”

“Why are you crying?”

“This meadow reminds me of one my sister and I went to once for a picnic. She thought it was a dumb idea, but I was really excited about it. I packed the lunch and we spent the day together. And it was fun. But ever since Dad left, I feel like all she does is ignore me. She’s so into her stupid camera and her precious Charlie lately that I’m not even sure she knows I exist half the time. Still, I miss her so much right now that I can barely breathe. I miss when we were closer, when we were friends, not just sisters. When we went on picnics, even though she thought they were dumb. If I get back, I’m going to change things between us. I’m going to get to know her again, whether she wants to or not. I’ll give her no choice.” She raised a brow. “I can be very persistent.”

“I believe it.” He’d never had a sibling, at least not one that he was aware of. The relationship sounded both horribly complicated and wonderful at the same time. “What’s her name?”

“Crystal,” she said. “Crys.”

“Crystal-crys.” He nodded. “It’s an unusual but quite lovely name.”

“No, I mean, her full name is Crystal, but everyone just calls her Crys.” She sighed. “Sorry, I don’t usually act like this. I’m being weak. I need to be strong right now, not be a baby.”

He crouched down next to her, wishing he could wipe her tears away. “Tears aren’t just for babies. They’re proof that you feel something and aren’t afraid to show it. It’s those who won’t ever allow themselves to cry that are the weak ones.”

She looked at him for a long moment, biting her bottom lip. “You’re different, aren’t you?”

“Different?”

“From other boys. From any boy I’ve ever met before.”

His jaw tightened. “Perhaps you’d prefer to be around boys who don’t say silly things like I just did.”

A flash of annoyance lit up her blue eyes. “That’s not even slightly what I meant. You’re just . . . I can’t even explain it. You say what you mean and you mean what you say. You’re kind and generous and thoughtful. You’re brave and strong and sweet, and I . . .” She bit her lip again and studied her hands, which were folded in her lap, before she locked gazes with him. “You make me feel, even though I haven’t known you very long at all, that I could trust you with anything. Anything at all.”