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

Author:Morgan Rhodes [Rhodes, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-06-27T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

FARRELL

The second the gunshot went off, his forearm lit up with a sharp, burning pain.

“You have to find Markus,” not-Connor’s voice instructed him. “He’s going to need you.”

Farrell frowned. His mother and Felicity both looked at him fearfully from across the table.

“Forget them,” Connor snapped. “Markus is more important—you know this already.”

He stood up and scanned the room, all of his senses ramping up to better help him focus. His vision was clear, his hearing precise.

“There he is. Go—now!”

Without a word, he left his mother and Felicity and, keeping his head low, swiftly weaved his way through the crowd. Every single guest was frozen in place as the group of masked and armed intruders entered the ballroom.

Markus stood on the far side of the dance floor, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. The moment he reached the Hawkspear leader’s side, a horrible tightness eased in Farrell’s chest, and the burning pain in his arm subsided somewhat.

“What the hell is this, Markus?” Farrell said under his breath as the invaders continued to spread out in the ballroom. Two of them stayed in front of the main doors, guns ready, while a third approached from the reception area and roughly pushed Gloria St. Pierre inside. The old lady cowered in terror.

“I’ve no idea,” Markus said, scanning the room, his eyes darting and mouth set in a tense grimace.

Farrell waited for Markus to follow his flat reply with some sort of explanation or proposed solution, but when neither came, a dark sense of doom descended upon him and settled squarely in his chest.

“Where’re Mom and Dad?” Adam asked.

His brother’s voice managed to pull him from his intense focus on Markus, and he blinked, as if emerging from a daydream.

“Adam, I . . . ,” he began, but then faltered as his gaze shifted to the others standing near Markus. Adam had his arm around Becca, who now wore his dark blue suit jacket over her shoulders. Next to them was another woman: the beautiful blonde who’d captured Markus’s full attention at the end of his speech.

Jackie Kendall.

Her eyes were red and glossy but fierce, and the look she gave Farrell was one of disgust and hatred. It was a near match for the look on Becca’s face.

Something had happened here between them—something big.

“Somebody needs to call 9-1-1,” Adam growled. “I left my phone at the table.”

Farrell pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Don’t,” Markus said immediately. “I’m curious to see what they want.”

Farrell frowned down at the phone. It couldn’t find a network connection; he couldn’t call anyone even if he wanted to.

“Can you can stop them?” he asked.

“If they give me a reason to.”

“Take more of my strength if you need it,” Farrell whispered only loud enough for Markus to hear. As much as he dreaded the pain and weakness that would follow another draining of his vitality, he would happily suffer if it meant that Markus could stomp all over these gunmen.

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” Markus replied.

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