Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) Brad Magnarella (the red fox clan TXT) 📖

era suggested she’d met a violent end, whether by staking or burning. Her orphans would have all returned to mortality and ultimately passed too. I lowered my fist.

“Either way, we’re leaving.”

“Even if I can help shine a light on the one ye seek?” she called.

She placed teasing emphasis on the word light, no doubt referring to Dropsy. As for the rest, I knew vampires too well. Maggie had sensed the emotions coming off me. Now, having interpreted them, she was determined to manipulate me into doing her bidding, possibly even offering her my potent blood.

I snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“So cynical. Maybe a show of good faith will change your stance. Liam?” she called sweetly. The boy Bree-yark had been chasing materialized at the front of the pack, the lantern dangling from his small hand.

“Dropsy!” Bree-yark shouted. “Are you all right?”

The lantern peered around before letting out two timid pulses.

“Go on,” the vampire said to Liam. “Return what ye took.”

I kept a close eye on the boy as he circled the excavation pit. When he arrived in front of Bree-yark, he extended Dropsy by her brass ring. Nostrils flaring, Bree-yark snatched her from his grip and backed away. The boy stared at him another moment before returning toward the altar.

“Does that help?” Maggie asked.

It suddenly occurred to me that she’d never meant to keep Dropsy. She’d had the boy steal the lantern to lead us here, to her domain. She smiled, lips breaking from teeth that had been filed to points to match her canines.

“Nothing gets past ye, eh, traveler?” she said. “I hope you’ll forgive a smidge of trickery. I didn’t know how else to bring ye into my company, short of force. And then you’d really be doubting dear Maggie.”

“Let’s go,” Bree-yark muttered.

I waved for him to lead so I could cover our exit with the ring.

“Ye seek another traveler,” Maggie called sharply. “One who walks through time.”

I’d thought she was bluffing earlier, but that was too damned specific. I paused, my gaze ranging over the children. Twenty here, and who knew how many in the streets. That was a lot of eyes and ears, even in a city of eight hundred thousand. Had Maggie seen something? Heard something? One of the Upholders, maybe?

“Yes, I know of this person,” she said. “I might even be convinced to arrange a meeting.”

Negotiating with a vampire was never a good idea, especially when the vampire in question believed she had something you wanted. But what if one or all of the Upholders had stumbled into this period? For their sakes, I had to at least weigh the offer.

“In exchange for what?” I asked.

Maggie pushed herself from the altar so she was standing. “A favor.”

“Everson…” Bree-yark said in his warning voice.

“I won’t make any promises, but let’s hear it.”

A creak sounded as she limped forward. For the first time I realized the vampire’s left leg was a wooden prosthesis, the knee flexing and extending on a metal joint. Maggie caressed her children’s heads as she waded to the fore. “A man named Phineas T. Barnum has something that belongs to me.”

“The circus guy?” Bree-yark asked.

“He runs a museum on Broadway and Ann Street,” Maggie continued.

A very specific image fired in my memory. “Barnum’s American Museum,” I said.

“That’s right. The artifact in question is a silver locket he keeps in his office. I would like it back.”

“Then why not get it yourself?” I asked.

“Because the locket is warded. But methinks that won’t be a problem for ye.” When her eyes glinted, I understood the locking curse on the church door had been intended less to detain than to test me.

“So you want me to steal back something he stole from you?”

“He bought it from the one who stole it,” she said, impatience creeping into her voice. “But all that matters is it belongs to me.”

“And in exchange, you’ll arrange for me to meet this traveler?”

“A straight up swap, no trouble or trickery. Maggie’s word.” She made the sign of the cross on her chest, but in reverse, I noticed.

“Can you give me a description of the traveler?”

“As I said, one like ye.”

Typical vampire response, calculated to keep me interested. But though she affected a coy expression, something in her voice and stance told me she needed this artifact, hungered for it. Arranging the promised meeting in order to possess it was a cheap price as far as she was concerned.

I nodded. “Okay.”

In a burst of electric energy, the vampiric deal took hold. The earnestness of the bonding suggested I’d been right.

“Do I bring the locket here?” I asked.

“When ye have it, one of the orphans will find ye.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Hellcat Maggie retreated back into her blood slaves—another tell. With the destructive power I wielded on my fist, she knew she’d risked enough by bringing me here. Having gotten what she wanted, she was back to survival mode. She fluttered the talons of a hand in playful farewell, while her children stared at us from what was clearly a defensive formation.

Outside the church, Bree-yark hugged Dropsy tightly to his chest. “You’re really planning on doing this?”

“It could lead to an Upholder,” I said, “but I also want to check out the museum.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know where my grandfather lived in the 1860s—his old farm would be under the West Twenties by now. But I do happen to know he worked for one P.T. Barnum as a stage magician. I’d like to find him.”

22

About a week following Grandpa’s death, I’d found the poster in the back of his closet. It had been rolled up and bound with old string that fell apart when I pulled on it. Expecting another map, because it had been leaning among several, I was surprised to discover a vintage promotional poster.

ASMUS THE GREAT!

MASTER MAGICIAN!

The magician in question was a tuxedo-clad man with rosy cheeks, hand inside a top hat. Given the name, and the drawing’s resemblance to a younger version of my grandfather, I assumed this was