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

is extraordinarily powerful. The being will remain under your control. You can test the circle for yourself.”

The armory shuddered again, rubble falling from a fresh proliferation of cracks. The image of the troll shoving the gunman into his mouth flashed through my mind.

I eyed the casting circle. Though it had elements that looked vaguely Sumerian, the pattern wasn’t one I’d seen before. With a flick of my mace, I cast an ounce of energy toward it. The circle gobbled it up. A moment later, the pattern began to pulse like a heart, amplifying the energy several fold. Alright, so it passed the power test. But what in the hell would I be calling forth?

I raised my eyes to the iron trunk. It sat on its dark altar perch as though biding its time.

This had disaster written all over it.

“I hear more of them out there,” Arnaud said above the thundering blows.

My heart slammed in my chest. It was only a matter of time, I got it. But summonings never worked out for me, from my first experience with Thelonious to nearly succumbing to a gatekeeper a few weeks ago. And then there was Chicory’s warning—not only about the penalty for summoning, but why the Order forbade the practice. I could be opening a fissure…

To the Whisperer, I thought, the being who nearly destroyed the Elders.

“I can’t do it,” I said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Arnaud asked.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not happening.”

“What about your mother?” he asked, his narrow tongue spearing the word.

I stiffened. “What about her?”

“Well, if I understood your grandfather correctly, she was slaughtered like a little lamb. If you fall today, who’s left to avenge her death?” Though he spoke softly, almost teasingly, I could smell his musk, could feel my already-racing pulse kicking into a higher gear. He was inciting my anger.

“They’ve won,” I said.

Arnaud stared at me. “I don’t believe I heard you.”

“There are creatures out there we can’t kill,” I said, “and a being in that box that might be even worse. Our best option is to contact City Hall, have the fae call off the trolls, and then see if we have any chips left to bargain with. If nothing else, it buys us time.”

My mind made up, I turned toward the elevator.

“Oh, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud said. “I did hope it wouldn’t come to this.”

I was still processing his words when he swooped in behind me and seized my wrists. The talons of his thumbs pierced the network of tendons below my palms, and my hands jerked open, dropping the maces.

Fear and anger spiked hot inside me. He was attacking me in violation of the Pact!

I twisted my right fist around until the ring was aimed at him. “Balaur!” I shouted.

The cold metal remained inert.

“You poor fool,” he hissed in my ear. “Do you think I would hand you a loaded weapon? The design is identical, yes, and there are magnetic elements that might feel like power, but the ring is a worthless copy. Now,” he said, steering me back toward the vault, “I believe we have a summoning to perform.”

The son of a bitch had tricked me.

Furious, I snapped my head back to smash his face, but he was too quick. Far, far too quick. Cold breath brushed my exposed throat an instant before his spiny teeth plunged in.

29

My eyes shot wide.

He’s doing it. He’s actually biting me.

In an instant, the piercing pain was replaced by a warmth that flooded my system, relaxing everything. It was like slipping into the warmest, most lavish bath. Though my mind struggled, my body relaxed into Arnaud’s embrace, his high-pitched suckling. I couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t dam the endorphins dumping into my bloodstream. And that was the worst part. Despite the horror of what he was doing, my brain was flashing pleasure signals.

My eyelids fluttered, even as I strained to keep them open.

No, dammit! No, no, no!

I felt Arnaud slipping into my mind, growing inside it like a fluid-filled sac. He was turning me into one of his minions. I groped for my mental prism, found it, but couldn’t summon the will to cast through it. Arnaud controlled that will now. And with it, he controlled me.

Arnaud broke away with a wet gasp.

He turned me until I was facing him, my blood glistening across his mouth like a lurid lip gloss. His swollen pupils narrowed to pin points. Wizard’s energy pulsed around him.

I stared back dumbly.

“Be grateful, Mr. Croft,” he said, releasing my wrist. “I could have taken far more.”

I saw one of the maces on the floor at my feet. I felt myself stooping for it, seizing the leather-bound grip, swinging the silver-edged flanges into Arnaud’s head. But, in fact, I hadn’t moved, couldn’t move.

Arnaud tsked. “What a cruel thing to want to do to your master.”

He’s inside my damn head, my thoughts.

“Indeed, I am,” he said. “Behold.”

Arnaud turned and walked toward the vault. I followed, my legs kicking into a series of jerky steps. I couldn’t stop them. The vault swallowed us into its frigid hold. Arnaud stepped aside, and I fell to my knees inside the casting circle, as though thrust down. Arnaud moved in beside me.

“Cerrare,” a foreign voice spoke.

No, my voice. The word had been spoken through my mouth.

Could Arnaud direct my magic? Certainly not. But energy was already pouring through my mental prism and down my body. The casting circle glowed with protective power. Flames sprouted from the candles.

That’s why he held back, I thought. Not out of charity, but to preserve my prism.

“Den-lil lugal kur-kur-ra ab-ba.”

Arnaud moved my lips and tongue around the Sumerian words.

“Re-ne-ke inim gi-na-ni-ta.”

Ropey strands of dark energy sprang into being, linking Arnaud to the Scaig Box on the altar. The summoning was starting, and God only knew how it was going to end.

“Gir-su dsara-bi ki e-ne-sur.”

The trunk stirred. Something inside strained against the hinges, but they were bound by a powerful magic. Hope found a fingerhold inside me. Maybe the binding magic would be too strong for