A Book of Spirits and Thieves by Morgan Rhodes

he’d ever seen in his entire life.
    He blinked with surprise at the thought.
No. Spirits aren’t beautiful. They’re dark and evil.
    “Are you going to talk to me, or what?” Her dark blue eyes flashed with impatience. “You’re starting to make me feel like I’ve gone completely mad.”
    That made two of them, actually.
    “Where am I?” she asked, glancing around at the busy festival. “This is all so weird.”
    He understood most of her words, but some of them seemed as unusual and foreign to him as her clothing. “You need to leave me alone, Becca Hatcher.”
    She turned a smile on him this time, a bright smile that made a warmth rise within him. She certainly didn’t look anything like the shadowy creatures he’d encountered before. “Just Becca is fine. And thank you.”
    Livius doesn’t let me talk to girls
, he reasoned with himself.
That must be why I’m so distracted by this one.
    No, not a girl.
A spirit. Dark and evil, remember?
    Now he was annoyed.
    “Thank you for what?” he asked, crossing his arms tightly.
    “For acknowledging my existence.”
    He eyed the people milling past him with uneasiness. “I’m acknowledging nothing.”
    “If you say so. Who are you? What’s your name?”
    “I’m not telling you anything,” he said sharply. He had to take control of this situation. He wasn’t defenseless against such creatures. She’d best be wary of how far she pressed his patience. “You need to go. Now.”
    “Go
where
?”
    “Back to where you came from.”
    “That’s exactly what I want to do, but I have no idea how. It’s . . .” She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s so hard to explain. All I know is I was in the shop with Crys, and that book . . . I swear, this is all because of that book!”
    “What book?” He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t help himself.
    “The
book
.” She gestured wildly as if this would help explain. “It was written in some sort of bizarre language I’ve never seen before. And then I felt something grab hold of me, and the next moment, I’m here. Or . . . I was outside that big house. When I went inside, I saw you. And you saw me.” She frowned. “Hello? Are you even listening to me?”
    She spoke so quickly all he could do was cock his head and try his very best to follow along. She wore a necklace—a silver rose suspended on a thin silver chain—which she played with,twisting it between her index finger and thumb. Her fingernails were colored with paint, a bright rose shade like her knitted tunic.
    When he realized he was staring, his gaze shot back to her face. “I’m listening.”
    She studied him for a moment. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”
    “It’s Maddox.” He groaned at his mistake. He hadn’t meant to tell her his real name.
    “Maddox,” she repeated.
    The odd whisper of pleasure he got at hearing her speak his name aloud only made him more annoyed than he already was.
    “Tell me where I am, Maddox,” she said.
    “This may be difficult for you to understand, but you’re a spirit. Somehow you’ve managed to escape the land beyond death and return to the mortal realm . . . where you’ve somehow maintained your mortal form. This is very rare.” In fact, it was the very first time he’d encountered such a spirit.
    A man passing Maddox gave him a strange look that made him cringe. It would be better that no one listen in—otherwise, it would appear as if he were conversing with thin air.
    She frowned at him. “You’re trying to tell me I’m a ghost. That I’m dead.”
    “Apologies if this is a shock to you, but . . . yes.”
    “I’m
not
dead,” she said, raising her chin. “I’d know if I were dead.”
    “Would you?” He decided to be bold and waved his hand through her form. She stared down at herself with dismay as her body momentarily turned to smoke wherever he touched. “Does that seem normal to you?”
    Now she looked ill. “No. Not even slightly.”
    “Then I’ve