Jackie turned a look of sheer outrage on her. “What are you laughing at?”
“Honestly?” Crys said, barely trying to contain her giddy laughter. “I’m laughing at you. Look at you, blaming everyone but yourself—Becca’s mother—for what’s happened.”
Vega’s mouth dropped open even further to hear the second half of Jackie’s big secret.
Jackie ignored the professor and kept staring at Crys. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Crys kept laughing, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “This is all so hilarious. You are so full of yourself, you know that? This has all been your fault from the very beginning. Everything bad that’s happened to us has happened because of you.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Let’s see. Well, first of all, Becca wouldn’t have even touched the book in the first place if you hadn’t clumsily sent it to the bookshop by regular post.”
“I’m sorry, but weren’t you the one, Crys, who opened a package that was addressed to your mother?” Jackie countered without missing a beat.
“Please. That’s model citizen behavior compared to you. I’m curious: What worse things have you’ve done over the years than steal a bunch of allegedly magical crap? Because after seeing your little performance with Markus tonight, I know there has to be more. You were so ready to stick a knife into your former lover—maybe you were a hired assassin over in Europe?”
“Wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong. You jump to conclusions without any proof, Crystal. That’s what you’ve always done. You’re just like your father.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment, actually. At least he gives a damn about his family when it comes down to it. You, though, you just dangle us, like bait, in front of your ex-boyfriend.”
“How dare you!”
“You think so damn highly of yourself that you thought you could just put on a tight dress, march into that ball, and make Markus forget his own name. Looks like that was a big fat fail to me. Then again, don’t be too hard on yourself. You are twice the age you were when he was interested in you. I guess he isn’t so into old, used-up hags.”
It happened so fast that Crys didn’t even register Jackie winding up and backhanding her until her face exploded in pain. She clasped her palm to her burning cheek and stared at her aunt in shock.
Jackie stared back at her, anger blazing in her eyes for a long moment. But gradually the anger faded, replaced by regret. “Crys,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
Dr. Vega just watched them, twisting his hands. “Please, both of you. Calm down. We can figure this out, I know we can.”
“I need my father,” Crys said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “He can help us.” She fished her phone out of her purse and, without thinking twice, composed a text as quickly as she could.
Dad, where are you? I need to talk to you! IMPORTANT!! Call me!!
She pressed Send and waited, hoping for an immediate response. “Damn it, Dad,” she snarled at the screen after two minutes passed. “Where are you? You always answer when I need you the most. Come on!”
She began pacing back and forth, hoping with all of her heart and soul that he’d be able to respond from wherever he was. Because contacting him might put him at risk with the society, this was the first time she’d tried reaching out to him in over a week. But her patience was finally at an end, and she knew Markus wasn’t going to be around to see the message.
“Crys . . . ,” Jackie said gently.
“He’s going to answer.”
“Honey, I . . . I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t want to make tonight any harder on you than it’s already been.”
Crys stared at the screen, willing it to light up, buzz, make a sound. Willing for something to happen, anything that would prove that Daniel Hatcher was still out there. That he’d managed to lie his way out of the sure punishment he would have received if Markus knew that he’d helped his daughters escape.
But now, unanswered text message in hand, she found she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t keep denying the horrible truth she’d known from the moment those elevator doors had closed between them.
“He’s dead,” she whispered. “Isn’t he?”
Her grip came loose, and her phone dropped to the floor. She fell bruisingly hard to her knees.
A painful wail rang out, an almost animal cry of grief. She was numb and stunned, but somehow she knew the cry was coming from her.
“Honey, honey,” Jackie was on her knees next to Crys, pulling her niece into a tight hug, rocking her gently back and forth. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
Crys couldn’t see anymore; she was blinded by the tears streaming from her eyes. When her father first left Julia for the society, she’d cried so much that when her tears finally dried she promised herself that she’d never cry again.
She’d tried very hard to hold true to that promise, thinking with pride that it made her stronger, tougher.
And maybe it really did. For a little while.
But now . . . it was too much. She couldn’t handle—couldn’t even fathom—the idea of everything she’d lost.
She used to dream that one day she’d have her family back the way it was—her whole, picture-perfect family that would go out to restaurants together, watch movies on TV and heckle the actors and cheesy fight scenes from the couch. But now she knew that she’d never have that again.
“I’m sorry, Crystal,” Dr. Vega said, his voice thick with sympathy. “You haven’t deserved any of this. But please, you cannot blame your aunt. She’s trying to make it all right again. You have to see that.”
“I do,” she croaked out. “I do see that. I’m sorry too. Jackie, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t even mention it,” Jackie whispered. “And we will get her back. I swear we will.”
“How?” Crys whispered desperately. “She’s with . . . him. And that Damen person. He killed those people just by looking at them!” Crys blinked, pulling back from her aunt and wiping her tears. Dr. Vega fetched a box of tissues and offered Crys a wad of at least ten. She frowned as she forced herself to think about the bone-chillingly scary man with the sickly pale skin and black eyes. “What that monster did—could that be called death magic? Becca told me that the boy she met in Mytica could do death magic but that he used his powers to communicate with spirits. Could they be connected?”
“I don’t know,” said Jackie gravely. “It certainly seemed that Damen is from the same world as Markus. But their magic is very different. There’s the dagger, of course, but the magic that comes from Markus himself is elemental—earth magic for healing, and some fire magic.”
“He showed me.” Crys remembered the afternoon she first met Markus, when she watched with amazement as he summoned a flame to the palm of his hand. “He said he didn’t like doing fire magic because it made him feel too much like a Las Vegas magician.”
Jackie nodded. “He and Damen clearly have different kinds of magic. And Markus’s has faded over the years. This Damen Winter—his magic is strong. He killed those people without even laying a finger on them. And Markus said that the magic in the dagger came from Damen.”
“Bottom line: He’s a bigger threat than Markus is,” Crys said. “And, on top of that, he hates Markus.”
“I don’t give a damn about what happens to Markus,” Jackie said. “All I care about is Becca.”
“So what do we do?” Crys asked.
“We need Angus, and we need your mother back to full strength,” Jackie said without missing a beat. “Markus says he didn’t give Julia the command to bring him the book, but I’d be a fool to just believe him. If we get the dagger, then we wield the power that could break the spell of the marks.”
“Yeah, well, if tonight was any indication, doing that will be a lot easier said than done,” Crys said. “For all we know, Markus had the dagger on him tonight.”
“No, he d
oesn’t carry it unless he plans to use it. He keeps it—or at least he kept it—in a box in my grandfather’s library.” Her expression grew pinched and pensive. “I suppose it’s his library now, since my grandfather left that mansion and his entire fortune to him in his will.”
“I’ve been in that library. That’s where Dad”—Crys’s voice broke, and she pushed back a swell of tears—“took me to meet him. I was blindfolded, though, so I couldn’t see the way to get there.”
“What did he think you were going to do? Go back and break in?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Well, that’s what I’m going to do,” Jackie said resolutely.
“You’re going to break into Markus’s home?” Dr. Vega peered at her with disbelief.
Her expression was tense. “I sure am. The universe owes me a couple of favors, Uriah. Why can’t a smooth and successful breaking-and-entering scheme to steal a magic dagger be one of them?”
“Good.” Dr. Vega cleaned his glasses on his sleeve, his brow furrowed. “Get your hands on that dagger and I’m sure I’ll be able to properly destroy it—with Angus’s help.”
Jackie nodded firmly. “I’ll go tomorrow morning.”
Crys shook her head. “No. We need to go now.”
“We’re both exhausted, starving, and grieving—this is something that requires strength and wits. Wait . . .” She frowned. “I don’t remember inviting you along on this mission.”
“I’m going,” Crys said firmly. “Don’t even try to say no.”
Jackie stared at Crys for several moments, her eyes worried and her brow furrowed in a combination of concern and fear. “Fine,” she finally said. “But after this, we’re even, Little Miss Masquerade-Ball-Crasher. And we’re going tomorrow.”
She wanted to argue, but knew she wouldn’t get far. “Fine. But first thing,” Crys said resolutely.
“Yes. Then we’ll get Julia—if Angus gets off his ass and returns my calls—and free her from Markus’s marks. In the meantime, Uriah, please find everything you can on a Damen Winter— anything that might help us figure out where he might have taken Becca.”
“I’m on it,” Dr. Vega said, nodding. “Someone as powerful as you say he is will have left a trail of destruction that could lead to useful answers. But, I don’t understand: Why did he take Becca?”
“Most likely to give Markus a reason to behave himself and not fight back,” Jackie replied. “He must assume that Markus wouldn’t risk letting his daughter be harmed.”
“Oh God. Becca . . .” The thought of her sister trapped in some unknown location with those two monsters, without any friends or allies nearby to comfort her, made it hard for Crys to breathe, to think.
“I thought Farrell Grayson could help,” Crys said, her voice hoarse. “He’s so close to Markus now . . .”
Jackie eyed her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Crys picked up her phone from the floor, closing her eyes as she exited the text message window. She scrolled through the address book, looking for Farrell’s number, but it wasn’t there.
“Damn. I forgot—I deleted it when I realized he’d been lying to me.”
“It’s for the best.”
Not that Farrell would have helped her, of course. But maybe Adam could talk to him—if anyone could make him see reason, it was his brother. He could convince him that if they found Becca, they’d find his lord and master too.
Suddenly a wash of weariness hit her. Crys was tired. So utterly tired, in a way she’d never been before, she could barely keep her eyes open any longer.
“Don’t you dare think about leaving without me in the morning,” Crys warned.
“I think I’d be happy going the rest of my life without attracting the further wrath of Crystal Hatcher,” Jackie said. She smiled briefly, then looked tenderly at her niece. “I’m sorry, Crys. For all of this. I mean it.”
Crys nodded. “I know.”
She hugged her aunt again, then she hugged Dr. Vega too. He looked desperately like he needed one after being the sole witness of Crys and Jackie’s confrontation tonight.
Tomorrow they would fix this.
• • •
Jackie gently shook her awake. Crys stared at the clock next to her single bed in shock as she realized it was nearly seven o’clock.
“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
“This is early,” Jackie said. “Go get ready.”
Crys was out of bed and dressed in less than five minutes. Dr. Vega and Jackie waited for her downstairs.
“I considered taking the tunnels,” Jackie said to Crys as she entered the kitchen. “But I don’t trust them. It’s been a while since I last navigated them, and I don’t want to get us lost. We’ll take my car.”
That was fine with Crys; if she never found herself in the society’s underground tunnels again, it would be too soon.
“Did Angus call you back?” Dr. Vega asked as they moved toward the door.
“Not yet.”
“But didn’t you tell him in the messages why it’s so urgent that you talk to him?”
“No. You never know who could be listening in.”
There was a firm knock at the door.
Crys and Jackie exchanged a worried look. Dr. Vega went to the door and looked through the peephole. His shoulders tense, he opened the door while Crys looked on, holding her breath.
Two uniformed police officers were standing on the other side.
“We’re looking for Jackie Kendall,” one officer said, his gaze tracking directly to Jackie, who came to stand next to Dr. Vega.
“I’m Jackie,” she said.
He nodded grimly. “We have a warrant for your arrest. We have to take you into custody.” The officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs and began to read Jackie her rights.
“Wait—what?” Crys snapped. “What’s happening?”
“Looks like my past picked a hell of a time to catch up to me. Markus probably told the police where I was. He’s got everyone tied up in his schemes.” Jackie gritted her teeth. “Uriah, I’ll call you as soon as I can. And Crys—do not do anything crazy without me.”
It was the last thing she said before they took her, handcuffed, out of the apartment. The door closed behind them, and Crys just stood there, frozen in utter shock.
She looked at Dr. Vega. “What now?” she asked.
“Whatever Jackie worried you’re going to do without her,” he said, “I suggest you do it. And as quickly as possible.”
It was all the encouragement she needed.
Chapter 19
BECCA
Though she felt more desperate than anything, as Becca let go of Crys in the ballroom, she decided she needed to try to be brave. The look on her sister’s face, that naked fear when Becca agreed to leave with Damen and his people . . .
But what other choice did she have?
Now she tried not to think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other. She lost track of Damen when they put her in the back of one of three black limos with a gunman at her side. Markus disappeared into the backseat of another car with two gunmen, and though everything inside of her screamed, needing to know where they were taking her, she didn’t ask. Crys probably would have—whenever she was scared, she tended to cover her fear with bravado or sarcasm. They were alike in a lot of ways, but not that one.
When Becca was scared—really and truly scared—she got really quiet.
They didn’t blindfold her. At first she was glad for this one small allowance, but the more she thought about it, the less fortunate it seemed. There was no reason to blindfold a kidnapped victim if the kidnappers knew she wasn’t ever going to be released.
She couldn’t see the driver, only the silent masked man seated next to her.
And she could also see the shadow, which had joined her. It stayed down by her feet, almost touching her but not. The realization made her feel insane, but seeing that frightening yet familiar piece of darkness helped
calm her just a little.
Thoughts of what she’d learned at the ball vividly and painfully replayed through her mind during the drive.
Jackie, her aunt—her beloved, fun-loving, fascinating aunt whom she’d adored all her life—was a liar who’d kept the truth from Becca since her birth. Julia, her mother, had been in on it the whole time. And Crys—what did Crys know about the horribly well-kept secret that Becca’s life was nothing that she thought it was?
The three of them had been whispering to each other all week, and Becca hadn’t known why. She’d assumed they were discussing everything she’d told them about Maddox and Mytica, and perhaps that was partially true. But now she saw that there was more to the truth.
The magical book had affected her, had pulled her into Mytica. She’d wondered what made her so different from anyone else.
Now she wished she didn’t know.
It was life-altering information. No, life-altering didn’t even come close to what it was. The second she heard the truth about her origins, her entire worldview changed. But Becca couldn’t process what it meant—not yet.
After what felt like a half an hour, the driver pulled the car to the side of the road. It wasn’t a good part of town.
One of the men dressed in black opened the back door. He was positioned to catch her in case she tried to flee, but she didn’t resist and got out on her own. She looked up to see they were parked in front of an old deserted building with chipped and crumbling plaster and a marquee that, in faded letters, read: KING’S PALACE THEATRE. Her masked escort then led her up to the entrance.
The shadow followed her.
Becca hadn’t recognized the place on the outside, but as soon as she stepped inside, she knew exactly where she was.
It was Markus’s theater, where the Hawkspear Society met and where Becca had found herself when she’d woken from her coma. She had been laid out on a table on the stage, surrounded by people, as if she were some sort of sacrificial offering. It actually had been a ceremony of exchange—Becca for the Bronze Codex.
They entered from the back of the theater, walking first through the shamble of a lobby. As Becca descended the narrow aisle to the main stage, she looked at the rows upon rows of red seats, all of which had been immaculately maintained. Adorning the walls were geometric patterns in once bold, now fading colors, and on several panels there were twenty-foot murals depicting glamorous women wearing sullen expressions, holding instruments and lilies.