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

continued, “so I dove down to find somewhere I could crouch. That’s when I got snagged.”

“In the weeds?” Bree-yark asked.

“In a damned net,” she answered. “I was pulled out of the water and onto a boat. Daytime, now. And there was Manhattan again, all built up, even more than before. The warships were gone, but the river was full of boats.”

She’d found one of the points into 1861.

“I was too stressed about the net to be worrying about any of that, though,” she continued. “I was tangled from head to tail—and Seay’s glamour had come off. Men were all around, swearing and shouting for others to come see. I heard one of them say something about fetching a good price at ‘Barnum’s.’ Next thing I know, crack.” She drove a fist into her hand. “Clubbed in the head. When I woke up, I was in a tank at that damned museum.” She hesitated. There was more, but I could see she wasn’t ready to relive it. “Well, that’s pretty much how you found me,” she finished.

“Fiji mermaid,” Bree-yark grumbled.

“How long were you there?” Caroline asked.

“I lost count of the days, to be honest. Stopped remembering where I’d come from too. Who I was, even. Just kept wishing that whatever day it was would be my last. I was legit funked out. Then one day, I saw this cat.” Gorgantha’s smile broke out again as she nodded toward me. “Just standing there in the audience. Could’ve sworn I knew him, but I couldn’t say how or from where. When you busted the tank, I thought you were a rival of Barnum’s, there to steal me away. That’s how come I fought back. Better the devil you know, and all that. But then you started saying things that were just too damned familiar. And the way you took down those jokers? I figured you had to be a good guy.”

“I helped,” Bree-yark put in, still starstruck by her.

“I can’t tell you how stoked I am we found you,” I said.

Gorgantha gave me a sidelong look. “You’re stoked?”

“And you haven’t seen any of the others since you’ve been here?” I asked to be sure.

“Any of the Upholders? No, just you so far.”

I sent out another signal through the bond, but once again, Gorgantha’s was the only one to respond.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked.

I turned toward the window. Scores of fire wagons had arrived around Barnum’s, and water arced from hoses—Biggs the ogre was helping man one of them. But most of the museum had already succumbed to the blaze. I checked the watch Maggie had tossed me. Two hours until our meeting.

“How about we slip out under Caroline’s glamour,” I said, “get you some real food, and then find out who this Lazar is?”

26

We rattled up Broadway in a hired carriage, the five of us freshly glamoured. For the whole ride, I stared out the window on my side. I couldn’t help it.

Beyond the horse-drawn carts and omnibuses, people of every shade and stripe hurried past shops with goods ranging from pineapples to player pianos to giant bolts of fabric. It was like peeking under the modern district of glass and steel skyscrapers at this colorful, noisy ecosystem it had once been—a bridge between the 1776 version, population twenty-five thousand, and my city of more than eight million.

Scraps of passing conversation entered our carriage, some of it in the blunt, clipped voices that would become the New York accent. The big news was the fire at Barnum’s. The bulk of traffic was headed in the opposite direction as us, New Yorkers wanting to see the spectacle for themselves.

The upshot is that when we arrived at a restaurant called Crawford House, we had it mostly to ourselves. We ordered platters of boiled cod with beets and potatoes, enough for Gorgantha and Bree-yark to have multiple helpings.

I ate slowly, partly from not being very hungry and partly to give myself time to think.

We’d recovered one Upholder, but there were three more to locate, not to mention the St. Martin’s site. If the others had separated—which, knowing Jordan, seemed likely—they could have ended up in different time catches. Something told me there were more than the three periods we’d experienced thus far. That I couldn’t link to my teammates’ bonds in this one suggested they weren’t close enough. Or hadn’t survived. I had to be brutally honest. Either way, that put the identity of “Lazar” as an Upholder in doubt.

Grandpa? I wondered again. Or demon?

“When we get to the Old Bell Tavern,” I said to Caroline, “I should go in first and check it out. See who we’re dealing with.”

“I can cover you,” she said.

I nodded. That would leave Bree-yark and Gorgantha on outside watch. I peered past Caroline to where Arnaud sat, still glamoured in a thick coat and scarf to hide his restraints and muzzle. A quick check showed me that my wards remained at full strength. But his staring eyes looked more sunken.

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“Warded and entranced,” Caroline said. “He’s also weakening.”

“How long before he’s critical?”

“Hard to say with the time deformities. I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

A grim look of knowing passed between us. If Arnaud did become critical, we’d have to consider allowing some infernal energy back into him. It was either that or risk losing our line back to the present. And I remained convinced that he was somehow the answer to freeing the Order.

Leaning nearer, Caroline lowered her voice. “You should know that I’ve been cut off too.”

I looked over in confusion. “From Faerie?”

She nodded. “My kingdom has denied my lineal rights. I can no longer access certain familial energies.”

As I’d guessed, the demonic influence went high up the chain. Though Caroline maintained a stoic expression, the small crescent beneath her mouth deepened in either determination or sadness, maybe both.

“What does that mean for your casting?” I asked.

“I can draw from other sources, but they’re not nearly as potent. I still have a reserve