The Darkest Magic (A Book of Spirits and Thieves) by Morgan Rhodes Page B

photographer, it’s best to know every aspect of the art. So many people rely on digital photography now, but my favorite camera is still the one I’ve had for over forty years. There’s a kind of purity in the act of taking a photo and not knowing exactly how it will look until it develops in the chemicals. Sure, you can set up a composition, but with film there’s always a surprise with the finished product.”
    “I totally agree.”
    Andrea grasped Crys’s hand again. “Thank you so much for coming to my show.”
    “Thank you for . . . for being
you
.”
    With another smile and a squeeze of Crys’s hand, Andrea wandered off into the crowd.
    “
Thank you for being you
,” Farrell repeated. “That’s so adorable I want to frame it.”
    Crys turned a cold glare on him. “What do you want?”
    “Other than to introduce you to a woman I’ve known since before I could walk who also happens to be your idol? Hmm, well, I do always love a nice glass of complimentary champagne. I think they’ve got some over there in the corner.”
    “Stop playing dumb. I honestly wouldn’t care if you introduced me to the Queen of England—I’d still scream my head off if it meant getting rid of you.”
    “Crys, Crys, Crys. I know that things were a bit unfriendly and angsty when we last parted ways, but that doesn’t mean we can’t patch our burgeoning friendship back together.”
    “Where’s Markus?” she asked bluntly, her stomach churning. “And where is my mother? Are you just trying to distract me so he can get to her?”
    “Markus isn’t here. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the night two little blond mice escaped a maze and scurried off into the darkness.” Finally, his smug expression eased off, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “Even I’ll admit that was a rough night. And I know you were just trying to protect your sister.”
    She laughed, but it came out humorless and sounded more like a cough. “Do you? Well, that changes everything between us, doesn’t it?”
    “How is Becca?”
    “None of your damn business.”
    “Fair enough. And what about the Codex? Is Aunt Jackie keeping it nice and safe in your hiding spot you all think is so safe and secure?”
    Crys didn’t reply; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction ofthinking he’d rattled her. Her mother already told her that hiding wasn’t an option, that Markus could find them wherever they went, so why should she care or be surprised that Farrell might know the truth?
    “I’m going to tell you something, Crys. As a friend,” he continued. “When the time comes—and it will come—that Markus shows up for the book, do yourself a big favor and give it to him. He hasn’t just forgotten about it, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
    “Where’s my father?” Crys asked, making a conscious choice not to indulge anything Farrell said.
    And perhaps her method was working: This time, Farrell was the one not to respond immediately. He cocked his head. “Worried about him, are you?”
    “What happened to him that night?”
    “You mean the night he betrayed Markus, gave you the book, and let you escape?”
    “Actually,” Crys said, “it was mainly your brother Adam who helped us escape. Call me crazy, but I don’t think Markus would like very much to hear that one of his youngest followers disrespected him like that, would he? I’m going to go ahead and assume you didn’t tell on him. But, then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you are that much of a monster. How is your little brother doing these days anyway?”
    Farrell’s smile went cold at the edges. “Adam’s just fine, thanks.”
    Crys narrowed her eyes. “Where’s my father?”
    “All I know is that he’s not in Toronto anymore. And that if you’ve been expecting to hear from him anytime soon, don’t hold your breath. Markus wouldn’t be happy if he were to find out you two had been in touch—unless it was for you to hand over the Codex to him to give it back to