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

“After that it was potions and spells, minor summonings. She took care of the demon, too.”

An ember of envy burned in my gut. I’d had to learn those skills from books. And Thelonious was still bound to me.

“When I turned eighteen, she said I was ready. Set me up with a place in the city.” He jerked his head. “Just north of here. Told me my new mentor would show up. After a couple of months I got tired of waiting, so I started putting what I’d learned into practice in pool halls and gambling houses. As you saw, the pay’s decent.”

“But someone showed up eventually,” I said.

“Yeah, and said he wasn’t happy about what I was doing.”

“Chicory?” I asked.

James nodded. “He wanted me to focus on getting to amateur conjurers before the little creatures they called up could do any damage. He put me in charge of the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island. Gave me a map that would light up when something popped into our world. The work was all right, but sort of dead in between. Magic or not, I was gonna live my life.”

So, he’d been given the same job as me, but in New York’s outer boroughs. More compartmentalization. “You and Chicory butted heads, I take it,” I said, remembering the infractions in his file.

“You could say that.”

“Weren’t you worried?”

He looked over at me, his face blank. “About what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The penalties.”

“Oh, you mean the Big One?” He drew a finger across his neck and gave a lazy laugh. “Yeah, Chicory tried holding that crap over my head, but after a while it got old. I just nodded and went back to whatever I was doing. The guy only showed up once in a blue moon, anyway.”

I thought about the terror I’d felt upon being issued the same threats: the loss of appetite, the hives that would break out over my chest, the sleepless nights. And here James had tuned them out like they were background static. I felt like I was talking to a much cooler version of myself. But what did it mean that the Order had never followed up on the warnings?

“What happened to your first trainer—Elsie?”

James shrugged. “Never heard from her again.”

“You never went back to visit?”

“Never thought to. It wasn’t like we were friends.”

“What about Chicory? Did he ever, I don’t know, say what he was up to when he was away?”

“Checking up on other magic-users, best I could tell.”

I nodded. That had always been my assumption.

“You consulted for the NYPD last month,” I said, changing course.

“Yeah, was running out of people to hustle. Figured it was time to do something legitimate. Something the Order would be more agreeable to. So I hung out a shingle. Was sorta surprised when the NYPD called.”

“You told them Lady Bastet was killed by magic. How did you know that?”

“A reveal spell. The magic was hidden but it was there.”

Same thing I’d used. “You were going to run a test on the residue,” I said, “the stuff found on the mutilated cats. Did you get anywhere?”

“The NYPD had me turn in my hours before I got started. And if they weren’t gonna pay me for it…” He swirled his beer, and took a foamy swallow. He was getting to the bottom of the bottle.

Before I could ask him anything more about the case, a young woman sauntered up. She was curvy and coffee skinned with a midriff shirt and purple eye shadow. “There you are, baby,” she said to James, planting a lascivious kiss on his mouth, which he seemed more than happy to return.

I shifted my weight, pretending to become interested in the bent fender of Chicory’s car. When James’s and the young woman’s faces separated, she pressed herself to his side and turned toward me.

“I’m, ah, Everson,” I said, extending a hand. “We spoke earlier.”

She squinted back at me, not moving her arm.

“Carla, right?” I prompted.

“Carla?” The young woman jerked from James and planted her fists on her hips. “Carla?” she repeated, this time with even more venom. “You’re still running with that skank?” Before James could answer, she slapped him across the face and stormed back the way she’d come.

James straightened his sunglasses and rubbed his jaw. “Thanks, man.”

“Not Carla?” I said.

“What the hell is all this about, anyway?”

I sensed his impatience, but it was a good question. Everything he had told me could be consistent with either the official story, that there was an Order, or the alternate version, that Lich had created a shadow Order and was manipulating magic-users to feed his efforts.

“Did you ever meet anyone higher up in the Order?” I asked.

“The money first.”

“Money?” Then I remembered I still had his twenty thousand in my pocket. I drew out one of the rubber-banded bill folds and handed it to him. “I’ll give you the other one when we’re done.”

“If you want an answer, you’ll give it to me now. I’m tired of talking.”

“Even for ten thousand?” I asked, holding the other wad back.

“Keep it,” he said and turned away.

I needed answers more than he needed the money, and he knew it, dammit.

“All right,” I said, my jaw tensing.

James turned back, accepted the money, and pocketed it. Then he tilted his beer to his mouth, draining the last of it. He reared his arm back and heaved the bottle across the street. I watched it shatter against the side of the vacant building, wondering why he’d done that. I turned back in time to catch a close-up of his knuckles before they plowed into my chin.

More stunned than hurt, I staggered back and drew my cane, but not before James had drawn his wand.

14

Silver magic flashed from the end of James’s wand and streaked toward me like lightning. I threw up my cane, forgetting that the magic-absorbing capacity of the staff had been cleaned. Voltage roared through me as the bolt struck and lifted me from my feet. I landed down the block, performing several