Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) Brad Magnarella (the red fox clan TXT) 📖

Night Rune

Prof Croft 8

Brad Magnarella

Copyright © 2020 by Brad Magnarella

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

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1

Arnaud Thorne was sitting on the metal bench at the back of his cell, legs folded, slender fingers interlaced around his knee. The drab robe he wore over his prison scrubs was police issue, but he managed to make it appear regal. It was his bearing, erect yet relaxed. As his yellow eyes found mine through the window, his lips turned up at the corners.

“Mr. Croft,” he said with false cheer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The magic that warded his confinement warped the air between us, bending his grin into odd shapes. The effect was nauseating, but no more so than the reason I’d come to him. And knowing he’d been expecting me.

“Where are they?” I asked.

He leaned forward, fine eyebrows rising up his waxy brow. “And to whom are you referring?”

“My teammates,” I said. “The ones I entered the time catch with.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Struggling to keep a neutral expression, I exhaled slowly through my nose. His powers couldn’t penetrate the cell’s defenses, but he was a master manipulator, something he could manage through words alone. It was why I had given the guards strict instructions to keep the speaker off at all times. In fact, I’d ordered the guards out before turning it on. Arnaud and I had the holding area to ourselves.

“There were four,” I said. “A young minister, a druid, a half-fae, and a mermaid.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

More than ten hours had passed since my return, and the Upholders were still no-shows. For a time, I held to the hope they’d delayed their return from 1776 New York to allow everyone to heal. Malachi, along with several of the half-fae, had suffered injuries from cannon fire, and some of the recovered druids, including Jordan’s wife, had been weakened by possession. But hours here would have been days there.

By first light this morning, I had to accept something had gone awry.

“Ah, yes.” Arnaud sat back and tucked a strand of fine white hair behind an ear. “You were quite a motley outfit. Fascinating to observe. And surprisingly capable.” He tsked. “A pity.”

“What’s a pity?”

“Well, that you journeyed all that way to rescue their friends, and you returned empty handed.”

He opened out his own hands, his smile revealing his sharp teeth. He was baiting me to fire back with something to the effect that we’d destroyed a pair of Strangers, or that I’d managed to capture him. He wanted to stoke my emotions into a smoky blaze that would cloud my reasoning. But past experience with Arnaud had prepared me.

“Where are they?” I repeated.

He stood and straightened his robe so that it fell into neat pleats around his baggy pants. Clasping his fingers behind his back, he began a slow stroll around his cell in a pair of canvas shoes.

As I awaited his response, I examined him for symptoms of being cut off from the infernal realm. He did appear thinner. And under the harsh fluorescent lights, his skin seemed to be yellowing. But if he felt any depleting effects, he hid them well. He pursed his narrow lips in a thoughtful expression, as if he had all the time in the world.

At last, he spun on a heel. “What are you prepared to offer?”

I grunted a laugh. “You’re not getting out.”

“Then why should I assist you?”

“Because this cell is the only thing protecting you from your master.”

“What are you suggesting, Mr. Croft?”

“I switch off certain sigils, and Malphas will see you’ve been taken prisoner. He’ll send up infernal power in an attempt to overwhelm the forces holding you, but when that fails, he’ll reclaim you before you can spill more than you already have. Yeah, you’ve said nothing, but he won’t know that.” I made a diving motion with my finger. “Back to the Below. And with no way to return to our world, you’ll be useless. Not only that, you’ll have failed him. I don’t think I need to spell out the rest.”

Arnaud chuckled.

“Laugh all you want,” I said, fighting to keep my throat relaxed. “You know it’s true.”

“Oh, rest assured, Mr. Croft, I find no humor in the scenario. I imagine that’s exactly how events would unfold.”

“Then what’s so funny?”

“For all your bold talk, you won’t carry out your threat.”

“No?” I challenged.

“No. And it’s because of your lady friend and the little miracle she’s carrying.”

My cheeks prickled with cold heat. “They have nothing to do with this.” I said it too quickly, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want Vega or our unborn child on the demon-vampire’s tongue, much less his mind.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

Arnaud was suddenly inches from me, his demonic eyes peering hard into mine through the window. The cell’s currents made his narrow pupils appear as if they fell into deep, twisting voids. I shuffled back a half step.

“Ooh, I believe I did,” he said, delighting in my reaction. “Let me elaborate, Mr. Croft. If you released me to my master, yes, I would likely be destroyed. But what if I weren’t?” He grinned up at me. “After all, I’ve defied death before. And what if I found