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

I retreated back onto the sidewalk. To one side of me, the police were continuing to drive the crowd forward. On the other, two wolves were approaching from the checkpoint, closing in on my scent. No way I’d be able to challenge them without my staff and sword.

Trapped mid block, I dug an arm into a trashcan, pretending to look for food. My thoughts scrambled madly. The second a wolf got close enough to ID me, I’d be grabbed. And given the severity of the accusations, the best I could hope for was life without parole.

Assuming I wasn’t torn apart.

Need to calm down, I thought above my pounding heart. Need to think.

Shoes clanged over metal as the first wave of distressed pedestrians moved past, the herding officers at their rear.

I honed in on the clanging sound.

There’s my escape.

Using the pedestrians as cover, I stayed low and wended my way toward the noise. Soon, a rectangular opening in the sidewalk appeared, covered by sections of metal grating. The final section rattled under the growing footfalls.

I hustled ahead of the barking calls of the officers, shouldered several pedestrians aside, and pulled the grate free. A few complaints went up around me, but I was quickly inside and hanging from a shelf beneath the lip of the opening. I pulled the grating back into place and looked down between my dangling feet. It was a decent drop, about twenty feet to the tracks below, but it could have been worse. Some of the holes went down five stories.

Still, going underground was going underground—something I hated worse than tax time. A pressure was already building against my chest, thinning my breaths. I closed my eyes.

Let’s just hope a train isn’t coming, I thought, and let go.

I swung my arms around until my palms were aimed at the up-rushing ground and shouted, “Vigore!”

Energy ripped through me and hit the ground with enough force to stall my descent. I landed in a crouch as though I’d only dropped five feet, pocketed my beard and sunglasses, and peered up at the shadows passing over the grate. One of the shadows stopped. A light glared and swept across my face.

“Hey!” an officer shouted. “Stay right there!”

Great, some goody two shoes must’ve alerted them to my plunge.

I hurried down the tracks until I was out of view of the grate. Jumping the thrumming third rail, I climbed onto a service walkway that paralleled the tracks. The tunnel stretched north and south into blackness.

I dug through the bum’s coat pockets, hoping to find a lighter, but all I came up with was a sizeable collection of cigarette butts and a Honey Bun wrapper. That left my coin pendant. I loosened the coat and unbuttoned my shirt until the pendant dangled into view.

“Illuminare,” I said.

Energy crackled around the coin. Moments later, a soft blue light suffused it, illuminating the space for several feet ahead of me.

I took a moment to get my bearings. That the rail was active told me I was in the Seventh Avenue line. Unfortunately it didn’t feature any branches to Jersey. None of the subway lines did. Meaning I could either head north, in the direction of the Bronx, or south, toward lower Manhattan. I grimaced at the thought of entering Arnaud’s district before understanding I wouldn’t get that far, even if I wanted to. My pursuers knew I was down here. At this moment, officers would be descending into the stations on both sides of me, hemming me in.

As if to affirm the claustrophobic thought, to the north flashlights beams swam against a distant bend in the tunnel.

Adrenaline screaming through my body, I dimmed the light in the coin pendant and hurried south along the walkway. There were no light beams coming from the tunnel ahead of me—yet. But if wolves had joined the posse at my back, they would be on me in short time.

Think, Croft. Think goddammit.

The defunct Broadway line was only a block or so to the east, the stations all barricaded. If only I could find some way to—

There!

A metal door appeared in the wall to my left. I pulled the handle, surprised when a crust of rust broke off and the door swung open. A service tunnel plunged into darkness. I scooted inside and closed the door as a powerful flashlight beam shot past. The south-bound team had arrived.

I broke into a run, faded graffiti art on the tunnel’s brickwork whizzing past. I’d gone about a hundred feet when a cinderblock wall reared up in front of me.

Wha—?

I got my arms up a split second before impact. The violent rebound threw me onto my back, head cracking against the floor. Stars wheeled around my staring gaze.

I struggled into a kneeling position, then stood, catching myself against the wall. The cinderblocks glowed gray-blue in the light of my coin. When the Transit Authority had closed the Broadway line, they’d apparently sealed off all of the access tunnels. That could be remedied. Aiming my palms at the wall, I called power to my prism—or tried to. The collision had shrouded it in fog. I began a rapid centering chant to restore my ability to cast.

I didn’t get very far. A deep growl rumbled behind me.

I spun, the mantra breaking off. A second growl sounded, this one from a different body. Two sets of eyes shone into view down the tunnel, their orange irises fiery with anger.

Beyond them, a small army of footsteps echoed toward the service tunnel entrance. I pressed my back to the wall like a cornered cat and squinted as a flashlight beam hit me in the eyes.

“We’ve got him!” an officer shouted.

24

With one hand blocking the flashlight beam, I could make out the advancing werewolves. They were still in human form, but the chase had aroused their lupine natures. Beneath wrinkling nostrils, lips peeled from fanged teeth. Muscles bulged underneath their uniforms.

Just need some time, I thought.

Summoning what meager power I could to my wizard’s voice, I shouted, “Stop!”

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