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

couldn’t have agreed more. She left the room first to let the adults talk among themselves, trying very hard not to notice that the shadow was following her.



Chapter 4
    FARRELL
    I t was shocking how easily Farrell’s mood could swing from heavenly to hellish. Lately all kinds of things were getting to him, but tonight his newly acquired superhuman sense of hearing was to blame.
    For the last week he’d been practicing singling out specific conversations occurring between small groups of people in crowds, and he’d become remarkably good at it. Just now he’d blocked out all extraneous noise and chatter so he could clearly hear the two attractive girls sitting in the far corner of Karma, his third-favorite Toronto bar, who probably thought that they were well out of earshot of tonight’s conversation topic.
    “What do you think?” the brunette said to the blonde.
    “Of what?”
    The brunette gave a subtle nod in Farrell’s direction. “Mr. Trust Fund over there. Think you have a chance?”
    The blonde swept an appraising glance over Farrell and smirked. “I heard he’s dating Felicity Seaton.”
    Interesting
, he thought. They knew who he was. That would definitely save some time.
    “Technically, maybe. On paper. But from what I’ve read, Farrell Grayson isn’t exactly into monogamous relationships—especially with someone as dull as that second-tier socialite.”
    He couldn’t say she was wrong, exactly. His mother had thought Felicity, a pretty enough girl from a good enough—read:
acceptable
—family would be the perfect girlfriend to help her delinquent son regain the good reputation he’d worked so hard to sully.
    Farrell had spoken to Felicity just a couple of hours ago, to tell her that he wasn’t feeling well, which was why he’d been able to come here solo on a Saturday night. Also, it wasn’t exactly her kind of bar. She preferred much more upscale nightclubs, the kind that had bouncers out front and a hefty cover charge. He’d appeased her—thrilled her, really—by promising to take her somewhere special tomorrow, just the two of them.
    As for tonight, getting to know both the brunette and the blonde much better was his top priority.
    He would start with champagne—they looked like the champagne type. Farrell moved to signal to the bartender, but the girls’ continuing conversation distracted him.
    “Trust fund, huh?” the blonde said, her voice twisting with interest. “Can you put a number on that?”
    “I heard a rumor that Grandmother Grayson left her entire fortune to Farrell. No one else got even a cent. Unfortunately, he has to wait until he’s twenty-one to get his hands on it.”
    “That can’t be too much longer, can it?” the blonde replied with a smile. “It’s just too bad he’s not
nearly
as hot as his brother. I’d be all over that one.”
    The brunette snorted. “Do you mean the sixteen-year-old? Little young, don’t you think? Then again, I
hope
you mean the kid brother and not the older one who killed himself last year.”
    “I’m not exactly into necrophilia.” The blonde rolled her eyes and snuck what she clearly thought was a furtive glance at Farrell. “You know, maybe it’s just that ugly mole on his face that throws me off. Otherwise, Mr. Trust Fund is good looking enough.”
    There it was—the moment when Farrell’s mood took a sudden dive into the fiery pit below. His cheek twitched, and he forced himself not to touch the birthmark under his right eye.
    He glared at the bartender and tapped his glass. “Another.”
    The bartender refilled his double vodka. Farrell swished it around in the glass before taking it all down in two swallows, closing his eyes to better concentrate on the familiar burn coursing all the way down his throat.
    “Hi there.” He turned to see the blonde standing next to him, hand on her hip, smile on her lips. “I’m Brittany. Why don’t I buy the next round?”
    He glanced at her. “Pretty desperate opener,