The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) Brad Magnarella (ink book reader txt) 📖

“The Ferguson Towers Project. We think she’s climbing up through the storm drain.” I wondered now if the creature’s injury had driven her to feed. “How did you learn about her?”

“Someone hired us,” Blade said.

That much I had guessed. “Who?”

“Sorry,” Blade said. “We guarantee our clients complete confidentiality. It’s one of our selling points.”

When I could see she wasn’t going to budge, I relented and took another swallow of beer. “Fine. Why don’t you just tell me what you know about the creature?”

“She’s a hybrid,” Blade said.

“A hybrid? Of what?”

“Vampire and werewolf.”

“More of the first than the second, though,” Dr. Z put in.

I had never even heard of that, but I supposed it was possible. “Hybrid by birth?”

“Could be,” Dr. Z said. “But there’s always the lightning strikes twice scenario. You know, some unlucky bastard getting the lycanthrope infection, then later being turned into a vampire.”

“And someone hired you to put this one down?”

“We don’t chase after these things for our health,” Blade said.

“No, I guess not. Care to tell me your next move?”

“And tip off our competition?” Blade smirked. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little cash starved.” She glanced around a living room of second-hand furniture, sagging punk posters, and stacked amps.

“I think I can convince the NYPD to let you have this one.” Especially since that would free us up to focus on Arnaud’s leads. I just prayed he hadn’t already taken punitive action against Vega’s son.

“Well, thanks to your blundering into the tunnels,” Blade said, “who knows where the creature ended up. It won’t be lairing in that little service room again, though, I can tell you that much. It’s too smart.”

“And damn near invincible,” Dr. Z said. “Those silver bullets you were packing wouldn’t have done the job.”

“No?” I set my beer can down with a shaking hand. Some consultant I’d turned out to be. “How do you kill a hybrid, then?”

Dr. Z drew a finger across his neck. “Decapitation, baby.”

“We’ll probably have to wait for it to strike again,” Blade said. “That’ll give us an idea where it’s holed up.”

I remembered the hair in my coat pocket, the one I had collected in Alexandra’s dorm room. If she was the creature, a hunting spell could lead us to her. But the creature wasn’t my immediate priority. That honor went to Detective Vega’s son. Which meant taking up Arnaud’s game again, connecting the dots he was setting out for us until a picture emerged.

“How did you know to look underground?” I asked.

Blade chewed slowly on her next bite of pizza, as though considering what to divulge. “We were told the same thing as you,” she said at last. “That the creature was using the storm drains.”

Only we weren’t told that, I thought. Vega and Hoffman figured it out. Which suggests that whoever hired you three either has access to the case file or to someone working the case.

“Can I assume your employer is someone powerful then?” I asked.

Blade and Dr. Z gave me poker faces, but I caught Bullet, the weak link, glance quickly down.

Blade tossed her crust into the box and closed the lid. “Time’s up, Everson. Dr. Z and I need to rehearse. Big show next week. If you can promise to keep your pants on, you’re welcome to come.”

“One last question,” I said, ignoring the dig. “With this job, have you been meeting any resistance from the vampires?”

Dr. Z snorted. “Only about every time we turn around. Too bad no one’s paying us to knock off blood slaves.”

“Any idea why?” I asked as I handed them cards with Vega’s contact info.

Blade shrugged. “Someone hired us to kill the hybrid. Maybe someone hired a vamp to keep it alive.”

28

I rushed to where Vega stood at the side of the bed, adjusting her service belt around her waist. Her wife beater was dark but no longer bloody. She had already rinsed it in the sink and wrung it out.

“What are you doing up?”

“I didn’t want to sleep too long,” she said. “Whatever you did helped.”

When she raised her face, strands of damp hair clung to her brow. Though her color remained pale, it had improved from only a half hour ago.

“I still say you need your rest. You lost a lot of blood.”

She ignored the comment, wincing as she straightened. “Where did you run off to, anyway?”

“That trio that helped us out with the blood slaves? They’re squatting in the same building.” At that moment, the muted sounds of electric guitars came up through the floor. “They’ve been hired to hunt the creature. That’s why they were down in the storm lines.”

“Hired by who?”

“They wouldn’t tell me, but I say let them hunt it.”

Vega nodded as she stepped past me. “I agree for once. Now let’s go find Arnaud’s spokesperson, see where things stand.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I held up a piece of paper. “It was stuck in the door when I got back here.”

Vega snatched it from me, her eyes already moving over the spidery script. I came around behind her and reread the message:

Your return to Ferguson Towers violated the letter of our agreement, but perhaps not the spirit. I am giving you the benefit of the doubt and will consider the detective’s injury penalty enough. Rest assured, the boy remains safe in our care. As for the leads, I applaud your thoroughness thus far. It seems you are making progress. Keep it up, and the conditions for the boy’s return will soon be fulfilled. I have another person you will no doubt find interesting. I advise you to see her forthwith.

Lady Bastet

59 Carmine Street

“The name ring a bell?” Vega asked.

“Not from personal experience, but yeah. Lady Bastet lives in the West Village. She also happens to be a mystic.”

“An old woman with a crystal ball?”

“Old in years, maybe, but not looks. And I don’t know about the crystal ball, but it wouldn’t surprise me. That address is for a rug store she owns, but her