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

this morning—or hanging around the periphery of Central. We shouldn’t have to worry about them. But deeper in, the druids are using weres.”

“Wolves?” Caroline asked.

“Boars,” I said. “They’re easier to control, apparently.”

“They’re frigging bruisers,” Bree-yark put in. “Saw one beat an ogre in a pit fight a few decades back. Dropped him with a charge, then started goring him. Ignored the ogre’s tap out, too. Took eight refs to pull him off.”

“Sounds about right,” I said. “Which is why this won’t be a frontal assault.” On the map, I pointed out a body of water to the west of us. “Belvedere Castle abuts this lake. A drainage culvert was built to run out any water that got into the castle’s sublevels, but it’s underwater now. Gorgantha and I can enter the castle through the culvert. But we’ll need a distraction to send the bulk of the wereboars south.”

“A glamour should do it,” Caroline said.

“How are you fixed for power?” I asked.

“I’ve been thrifty. That kind of glamour won’t cost much.”

“What can I be doing?” Bree-yark asked.

I unshouldered a duffle bag and unzipped it. From inside, I pulled out a pump-action shotgun and several boxes of shells. “Your job is to take down any ravens that try to fly out.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Bree-yark said, inspecting the gun and raising it to his shoulder.

When Caroline slid me a questioning look, I said, “I made a quick stop in Chinatown. A guy I know owns an apothecary shop, but he also sells weapons and ammo on the side. The shells hold bird shot and silver dust. Enough to stun a druid, but do serious damage to any weres that show up.” I still felt guilty about paying the time-catch version of Mr. Han in glamoured bills, but he’d been tickled to see me.

“Are we still holding out hope for Seay and Malachi?” Gorgantha asked quietly.

“They’ll come,” I assured her. “Malachi knows the time catches better than anyone.” I dropped my gaze back to the map a little too quickly, though.

For the next hour, we went over our strategy, coloring in the details and making small adjustments. Finally, a distant shot from a revolver echoed over the park. Five beats later, a second shot sounded from the same gun.

“That’s Everson’s signal,” I said. “The field is in place.”

Bree-yark pumped the shotgun’s action, chambering the first shell.

“Let’s go find this Jordan,” he said.

40

Under the cover of stealth potions, Gorgantha and I picked our way through the trees. We soon emerged onto a stone shore where the eastern end of the lake began, the water green and edged with algae. Across the water, the high walls of Belvedere Castle rose above the treetops. Ravens circled the fort’s conical tower.

“Should we get in?” Gorgantha whispered.

“Wait a sec.”

Already grimacing at how bad it was going to taste, I pulled an encumbering potion from my pocket. Gorgantha had estimated that our time underwater could be anywhere from three to five minutes. On a good day, I could hold my breath for roughly one. Though designed for use on enemies, a sip of encumbering potion would slow my heart rate enough to make the trip on a single breath.

Tears sprang from my eyes as the sting of ammonia hit my throat, but I managed to gag it down. With a bitter face, I capped the vial and returned it to my pocket. The magic began to work immediately. It felt like someone packing my muscles with lead shot. Needing the effect to thin by the time we arrived in the castle, I’d gone with a small dose. I checked my pockets now to ensure they were all sealed, then gave Gorgantha a nod. Even that little gesture took effort.

The mermaid slipped into the lake first and helped me down off the rocks. On the tail end of a New York summer, the water that soaked me was bathtub warm. Clean too. Druids had an aversion to the unnatural, and that included pollution. Otherwise, the lake would have featured floating banks of garbage. Barely able to tread, I clung to Gorgantha’s back, my heavy legs sinking to her sides.

To the south, a piggish cry went up. Others answered. A small stampede crashed through the foliage away from us.

The wereboars had taken Caroline’s glamour bait.

I drew a deep breath and tapped Gorgantha’s shoulder. She submerged and kicked off toward the castle. After several seconds I squinted my eyes open. Yellow light filtered through the pickle-colored water. Gorgantha cut left to avoid a group of turtles, then plunged deeper where we’d be less likely to disturb the surface. The water cooled and darkened. Plants along the bottom brushed us with slimy leaves. As we passed the two-minute mark, I still felt fine, like a creature of the underwater myself.

Ahead, the culvert’s cylindrical opening grew into view. Gorgantha parked me beside it and held a finger in front of my face for me to wait. She then plunged inside. I leaned my head back. We were directly underneath the castle, but I couldn’t see anything through the peaty water. Something squeezed my foot.

The hell?

I reacted in slow-mo, trying to draw my leg up, but it remained fixed. At first I thought the potion had deadened my leg, but something was holding me. It was the plants. They were writhing up my body.

Crap, an animation.

The druids must have placed a ward near the culvert. I’d marked several in the park, but this one I’d evidently missed. Swearing, I pulled my sword from my staff and inserted the blade into the leafy mass of tendrils now wrapping my waist. I twisted and sawed at them, but more were arriving all the time.

Going to need to cast.

Though I was in a watery medium, it wasn’t briny enough to stifle my power. Gathering energy toward my prism, I glugged out a Word. The result was weak, but enough light and force discharged from my blade to scatter the bulk of the plant material. As I kicked my