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

to use it against him. Whisperer magic is different from the magic you’re accustomed to up here.”

“Different how?”

“When Lich nearly overthrew his siblings, it wasn’t a simple matter of being more powerful than the others. No, he tapped into a magic that bends minds, shapes thoughts. Whisperer magic. Lich made his siblings see what wasn’t there. Believe what wasn’t real. He turned them against one another, nearly driving them insane in the process. Were it not for the oldest Elder, who was able to resist the magic, Lich would have destroyed them all.”

“What about the staff?” I asked.

“The staff will absorb common magic. However, if Marlow or his followers get inside your head, all bets are off.”

“Oh,” I said, my confidence flagging again.

“That’s why we’re telling you to focus on the book. With the distilled blood, you’ll be able to access the Refuge and slip past any wards. With the robe of John the Baptist you’ll evade detection. With the staff, you’ll frustrate magical attacks. And with the sword, you’ll destroy the book. You need never face Marlow.”

“Just wish you would’ve told me about Whisperer magic sooner.”

“Would you rather I had told you when you still believed the preparations for the mission would kill you?”

He had a point. “So how would I even know if I encountered Whisperer magic?”

A shadow seemed to pass over Chicory’s face. “That’s the thing, Everson. There’s no good way to know.”

“What do you mean?”

We had been walking back toward the staircase, and now he stopped and sat on one of the bottom steps. I stood facing him. The orb of light arrived above us and sputtered quietly. While waiting for Chicory to answer, I couldn’t help but appreciate the power he wielded—summoning fireballs and elementals, all while maintaining an illumination orb, and with almost no effort. I’d given him less credit as a magic-user than he deserved.

“If you allow them inside your head,” he said, “they’ll invert reality, turning the ugliest lies into the most enchanting truths. No matter what you do, you won’t be able to see your way out. Only the strongest magic can penetrate it. Elder magic.”

“What’s the point of them using magic?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t they just kill me?”

“They’ll first try to subvert you. How do you think Marlow built his army of resistance? Your mother was an exception, convincing Marlow she’d joined the rebellion willingly. An intercepted communication tipped him off.” He looked over at me with sober eyes. “I’m sorry to bring her up again, Everson. But your mother’s sacrifice is the reason the Order was able to learn as much about Marlow and the Front as it did. Marlow took a huge risk emerging from his hiding to murder Lady Bastet in his attempt to keep the truth from you, from us.”

I nodded, understanding that was why there had been no signs of resistance at the murder scene. Marlow had infiltrated the mystic’s mind with Whisperer magic before cutting her throat and then ripping her cats’ heads from their bodies to make the crime look like the work of werewolves. He’d then shape-shifted into a cat and fled the scene as I was arriving.

“Why didn’t Marlow kill me too?” I asked. “He had a chance.”

Chicory sighed. “We’ve been wondering the same. Perhaps he believed the murder would be enough to throw you off his scent.” My mentor’s voice turned darker. “Or maybe he has plans to use you down the road.”

I remembered the chilling voice from the nightmare.

Join us, Everson. Join the cluster. Become one.

Everson … verson … son.

“And we must remember,” Chicory said, “Marlow is controlled by the Whisperer, a being as old as the universe. If you think the Elders are hard to read, well…” His chuckle was without humor. “There’s no telling that creature’s plans.”

“Hey, sorry for giving you crap upstairs. I just…”

“It’s daunting, I know,” he said. “But feeling better, are we?”

I considered the magical robe, the enhanced sword and staff, Chicory’s warning about not confronting Marlow. “I am, yeah,” I admitted. “When will the blood be ready?”

“Another week, I imagine,” Chicory replied, pushing himself to his feet. “And now that we have you outfitted, we’ll spend the remaining time in simulations, preparing you for the task ahead. How does that sound?”

“Best news I’ve heard today,” I said.

6

A week later I was back in the basement, staring down at the casting circle Chicory had created. It wasn’t large, but it was sophisticated, featuring several sigils I’d never seen before. Beneath the orb of light overhead, metal shavings glittered in the circle’s earthen grooves.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Chicory said, turning me toward him.

His curmudgeon’s lips curled and fussed as he looked me up and down. I’d dressed as he’d instructed: a dark shirt and pants with enough pockets to hold several spell items. I’d draped the tattered robe of John the Baptist over my right forearm. Around my waist was a belt to secure my sword cane. When Chicory’s gaze fell to my running shoes, he gave a critical grunt but said nothing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, eyes returning to mine.

“Honestly? Like I’m about to hurl all over the casting circle.”

“Nerves, hm? Just remember what we practiced.”

I nodded, going back over the last week of training, a week in which everything seemed to come together. The books Chicory had had me read, the exercises to grow my casting prism, the enhanced weapons. Combining these with my mentor’s instructions, I’d been able to steal past complex defenses, elude or slay a variety of creatures, and dispel potent magic. Indeed, it seemed as though I’d grown more as a wizard during that time than in the ten years prior.

“This is going to sting a little.”

Before I realized what he was doing, Chicory had my elbow in his grip and was sticking the needle of a copper syringe into the crook of my arm. I flinched at the bite. Chicory depressed the plunger, and the bluish blood in the glass tube disappeared inside