Black Luck (Prof Croft Book 5)

by Brad Magnarella

  But when I looked up from the card, he was gone.

  8

  I looked at where Pierce had been standing, feeling like I’d been slapped in the face. He’d done nothing overtly dickish. Nothing I could really point to, anyway. But then why did my face smart?

  There had been something about him—several things, actually. His confidence and competence, his total understanding and mastery of a situation he had all but happened upon. A situation that, until that point, I thought I’d been mastering. His intrusion left me feeling like a tool.

  “So that’s the new wizard, huh?” Vega said, coming up beside me.

  “Yeah,” I said, giving my head a shake. Then I remembered the way her face had flushed a moment ago. Embarrassment for forgetting he had already given her his card, or something more? “Why did you let him past the cordon?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was already down here.”

  “Yeah, which is why I let him in. He introduced himself, explained who he was—”

  “And you trusted him?” I interrupted.

  Anger flashed hot in Vega’s eyes. “I was the police contact you gave to the Order, and he knew that. Plus not an hour ago, you told me a Pierce from London was Wesson’s replacement, and this guy’s name just happened to be Pierce from, wait for it, London. I’m not stupid, Everson,” she said in a lowered voice. “I wouldn’t have let just anyone in. I was trying to help you.”

  I released my breath and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…” I gestured around the theater. More police officials had come down, and one was snapping photos of the victims. “I had the smoke golem in the equivalent of a chokehold. I could feel the mage powering him. We’re dealing with a really bad dude.”

  Vega searched my face before relaxing hers. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. You’re exhausted.” For the first time, I felt the burning strain in my eyes. That no doubt explained my irritability.

  “What about you?”

  “We’re going to be a while processing the scene.”

  It still bothered me that Pierce had picked up enough to feel confident he could name a suspect in a day or two. “Do you mind if I do a final tour?” I asked. “See if I can sense anything?”

  “Go for it. Just watch where you step.”

  I moved gingerly around the crime scene. The last remnants of the smoke golem had dissipated, the scent of sulfur fading. I attuned my wizard’s senses to the infernal bag that had spawned the being. Pierce had neutralized the bag’s magic—and it felt inert now—but I wondered whether he’d also pulled some of the magic into his wand for later study, explaining his confidence.

  But why would he have kept that to himself?

  I looked around the rest of the movie house before determining there was nothing more to glean. Basically, a bad guy stuck an infernal bag in the wall, focused enough energy into it to produce a smoke golem, and then used it to attack the theater and suck down a few souls.

  I found Vega. “Sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no point. And yes, I’m wearing the amulet.”

  She had picked up my glance at the front of her shirt. Shortly after we had started seeing each other, I’d taken an enchanted amulet from my collection, imbued it with protective power, and made her promise to wear it, especially while working. I threatened her with random pat-downs until the amulet-wearing became a habit, right along with her badge and sidearm.

  She tapped her sternum where the slender amulet was nested.

  “Okay, good.” Then remembering our dinner conversation, I said, “Hey, do you want me to check in on Tony?”

  “He’s fine. Camilla’s spending the night.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Go. Get some sleep.”

  Though she said it sternly, I could tell by her eyes she was pleased I’d asked. That was a start. I was about to lean down to kiss her before remembering our professionalism agreement: no PDA while working. Instead, I clapped her shoulder, which felt lame as hell.

  Despite everything, that made her smirk. “Night, Croft,” she said.

  “Night, Detective.”

  It wasn’t even nine by the time I returned to my apartment building. But so much had happened tonight, between my dinner talk with Vega, to the theater attack, to Pierce’s surprise appearance, that it felt much later.

  As I climbed the stairs, I replayed the smoke-golem encounter in my mind. Golems were only as powerful as the magic-user powering them, and this one had been up there. The fire, the imps, the clenching hand—not to mention the violence with which the golem had ripped the souls from the victims’ bodies.

  If there was a recent pattern of similar killings, Vega would be on it. But I couldn’t remember anything like that during my time in New York. Maybe we needed to go further back. I would consult my books.

  You were grappling with a smoke golem, I heard Pierce saying. How do you think it dispersed so easily?

  “Because I loosened the lid, you opportunistic ass,” I shot back. The comeback might have arrived thirty minutes late, but it was true. Looking back, I was proud of the way I’d combated the golem: strongly, capably, never losing focus or resorting to my luck quotient. The mage had tried desperately to hold onto his creation, but I weakened him, nearly overpowered him. And that’s when Mr. Fancy Pants sauntered in and gave the final twist.

  “How do you think it dispersed so easily?” I mimicked in a kid’s voice.

  My growing anger suggested Vega had been right. I was shot. My keys seemed to blur as I inserted them into the locks.

  I usually spent an hour or two in my lab before turning in—Tabitha’s observation hadn’t been a stretch—but not tonight. I was more likely to blow the roof off the building than make any breakthroughs on the case. After contacting the Order about the killings, I planned to bury myself under my covers until five a.m. A morning dose of Magical Me, and I’d be good and focused again. Inside my apartment, I cycled through my door-locking routine so automatically I almost missed something.

  My wards had been breached.

  I spun at the same moment the toilet in my bathroom flushed.

  “Tabitha,” I hissed at the orange mound on the divan. “Are you awake?”

  She slept on, my voice not loud enough to stir her.

  Pulling my cane into sword and staff, I stole forward and eyed the slender bar of light between the bottom of the bathroom door and the floor. Shadows appeared along it. A moment later, the light turned off and the door opened. I recoiled at the sight of the emerging figure. She was large with a wild shock of hair, a mottled face, and a witch’s hooked nose.

  A night hag!

  “Vigore!” I shouted, thrusting my sword forward.

  The force invocation warped the air as it blasted across the open space. The hag, who was hacking into her fist, never saw it coming. Or so I’d thought. She waved her hand irritably, and the invocation veered off course, blowing apart my potted Ficus tree. Soil and leaves rained everywhere.

  I switched to my staff. “Entrapolarle!”

  An orb of light encased the hag, but only for a moment. She looked it over, then poked it with a finger. The orb shuddered before cascading to the floor like a waterfall, where it glimmered out.

  I fumbled to pull my coin pendant from inside my shirt. Night hags were fae creatures and thus susceptible to iron. Grasping the pendant, I spoke quickly. Blue light shone through my fingers.

  “Bah,” the hag said, flicking her own fingers.

  A force hit the coin hard enough to knock it from my hand and snap the chain. Both went skittering off behind me. She squinted at me now, her irises cycling through several colors. I felt the mesmerizing effect immediately. My body stiffened into a kind of rigor mortis. Straining, I tried to raise my sword and staff, but I couldn’t lift my arms from my sides. When I attempted to invoke, thin murmurs leaked from my locked jaw.

  Desperately, I went back in my min
d to my last encounter with a night hag a couple of years earlier. What had I done then? With a sinking feeling I realized I’d cast through my coin pendant.

  Crap.

  And here I’d been congratulating myself for how I’d handled the smoke golem.

  The hag arrived in front of me, fists on her wide hips. I braced for her rancid odor, but she smelled like sandalwood. And I saw that though her hair was wild, it was stylishly wild, held in place with product. She had even attempted to soften her several warts with makeup.

  What kind of night hag was this?

  I strained my eyes in search of the skin bag for storing her souls, but I couldn’t spot one.

  “Everson Croft, hm?” she grunted, looking me up and down and not appearing at all impressed.

  I tried to ask who she was, but my mouth still wouldn’t move. Searching for another way to communicate the question, I widened my eyes a few times. She widened her eyes back.

  “Oh, darling,” Tabitha murmured from the divan, half asleep, “someone’s here to see you. She says she’s your new teacher.”

  My new teacher?

  I let out a straining moan.

  “Oh,” the woman said. The colors receded from her eyes, and her force released me so suddenly that I collapsed to my hands and knees. I pressed myself up and stood on shaky legs.

  “The Order sent you?” I asked.

  “Well this wasn’t just a pee stop.”

  “I-I had no idea you were coming,” I stammered.

  “So you weren’t welcoming me just now?” she asked dryly.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought you were an intruder. But you’re … my teacher?” I scratched the back of my neck and laughed. “I guess I was expecting a call or something. Some kind of heads-up.”

  “Have you read your mail lately?”

  I followed her gaze to the dining room table, where the mail for the past week plus remained in a pile at one end. With an exasperated huff, she waved a hand. The pile shifted, leaving one letter behind. I walked over and picked it up. The plain letter was addressed to me, but without a return address. I vaguely remembered pulling it from my box on Monday.

  I tore open the letter and unfolded the neat hand-written note inside.

  Dear Everson,

  A teacher has become available. Her name is Gretchen Wagonhurst. She is a highly capable magic-user who has spent considerable time in the faerie realm. She escaped Lich’s notice this way, though unwittingly. As such, she is more skilled than most who were not in exile.

  The faerie realm, I thought. That probably explained her resistance to my magic.

  Her teaching style is likely to be unorthodox. However, we believe she is the best fit for your current level of experience. She is scheduled to arrive this Friday. Please allow her the use of your apartment until we can arrange more permanent accommodations for her.

  Congratulations on the next phase of your development.

  Love,

  Arianna

  I reread her name, this time aloud. “Gretchen Wagonhurst.”

  “Vah-gonhurst,” she corrected me.

  “And you’re staying here?”

  “Would you rather I slept on the street?”

  “No, it’s just that if I’d known—I mean, if I’d read the letter in time—I would have prepared for your arrival.”

  “Your room is adequate. I’ve already unpacked my bags and arranged the bed to my liking.”

  I waited for the indication she was joking, but it never came.

  “Yeah, sure, sure,” I said quickly. “That’ll work until I can set something up. Let me grab a few things out of there, and the room’s all yours.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “I just rinsed my hose and draped them around the room. I’m modest, all right?”

  “Oh.” I swallowed. “Okay.”

  “As much as I’d like to stay up and yap, I’m also beat. Traveling all day does that to a broad. Think I’m going to file a few stubborn corns on my big toe and turn in. Might even sleep late.”

  “Sleep as late as you need to,” I said, recovering from the thought that she’d be filing her feet in my bed. That’s what antiseptic spells were for. “And listen, I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been anxious to take the next step, and the Order is confident you’re the one to get me there. I think you’ll be pleased to hear I haven’t been idle. I’ve been waking up early for the last several months and—”

  “Wonderful,” she interrupted, “superb, excellent, great. Good night.”

  She disappeared into my room and shut the door behind her. I looked after her for a moment, then snorted. By unorthodox Arianna must have meant lacking entirely in social skills.

  I called the Order and left a message, telling them about the night’s attack and that Pierce and I would be working together. I finished by saying that Gretchen had arrived and was settling in.

  After getting ready for bed myself, which involved cleaning Gretchen’s hair out of my sink, I pulled some sheets from the linen closet and arranged them on the sofa. I climbed in and tried to get comfortable, but the sofa was lumpy in all the wrong places. I sighed. Just twenty minutes before, I’d been walking through the door thinking about how wonderful my bed was going to feel.

  “How does she seem?” Tabitha murmured.

  A tractor started in my bedroom. I realized it was Gretchen snoring.

  “I’m suspending judgment,” I answered.

  9

  I opened my eyes the next morning to the ringing telephone and morning light streaming through the bay windows.

  Wait, light?

  In a panic, I pawed around for my alarm clock before realizing it was still in my bedroom. I checked my watch. Nine o’clock! I had expended more power last night than I’d thought. Kicking the sheets off my legs, I stumble-ran to answer the telephone. It was probably the Order, returning my message from last night. And here I should have been up four hours ago, at peak focus and power, primed for the day.

  “Hello?” I gasped into the phone.

  “That Everson?” A familiar voice asked.

  “Budge?”

  “That’s right,” he said with boyish cheer. “Your friendly city leader.”

  I was never quite sure how to feel about Mayor Lowder. We had a checkered history. Almost two years before, his half-werewolf wife, Penny, had tried to kill me. I put her in a coma that eventually killed her. But I also spear-headed the mayor’s monster eradication program the following summer, a program that had been a huge success for all intents and purposes, propelling the mayor to an improbable reelection victory. I hadn’t heard much from him since. I wasn’t under the illusion that our relationship had been anything other than convenient, but an invite to his second inaugural ball would have been nice.

  “Something I can help you with?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m looking at the report from last night’s attack. Some guy whipping black fire around? Shriveling up kids like they’re made of cellophane? Sounds like your kind of case.”

  “Yeah, I’m, um…” I turned from the phone to hack the sleep from my throat. “I’m working on it.”

  “That’s what Vega told me, but I wanted to hear it from my favorite wizard. What the hell are we dealing with, Everson?”

  “By all appearances, someone with access to the demonic realm.”

  “Christ, that doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I admitted.

  “Well, listen. We’ve managed to keep the details from the press. Good thing it was dark in that theater and half the eyewitnesses were on something funny. Right now the public thinks the killer was a guy with a flamethrower, and I’d like to keep it that way. Because the second the word gets out it was a supernatural, people will get cold feet about the neighborhood again.”

  “What people?”

  When Budge replied it was with a lowered voice. “All right, you didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve g
ot a major developer interested in the East Village. The plan is to raze the ruined blocks and burned-out shells and put in brand new buildings. You should see the proposal, Everson. I’m talking condos, commercial, mixed use. Quality stuff. But if they think we’ve got supernatural problems again”—he paused to give a sharp whistle—“see ya.”

  “Developers need renters,” I said in understanding.

  “And shoppers, and buyers. And no one’s gonna do any of that if they think they’ll end up like those theater kids. This thing needs to be wrapped up, Everson. Homicidal maniacs the city can stomach. The minute you throw in smoke and magic, forget about it. The killer pops up again—there, or anywhere in my city—and the story’s gonna grow legs and stomp all over my deal.”

  “Let’s not forget the tragedy of more senseless deaths,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. That too.”

  I shook my head. As sincere as Budge could appear, it took examples like that to see him for the political animal he was.

  “All right,” I said. “I should probably get started.”

  “Oh, hey. Vega mentioned another wizard getting involved?”

  The straps of muscle in my neck tightened as I remembered Pierce. I’d thought a good night’s sleep would dissolve the resentment, but oversleeping actually seemed to have hardened it.

  “That’s right,” I said. “His name’s Pierce. We work for the same organization. He sort of happened on the scene while I was there, and … well, I guess that means we’re partners now.”

  “Good, keep me up to date,” Budge said. “In fact, why don’t we meet in my office this afternoon.”

  I had no interest in adding a pointless meeting to what was already going to be a busy day, especially given my late start. But making the mayor happy would grease the wheels of whatever city resources I might need for this case or future ones. Maybe I had a little political animal in me too.

  “What time?” I asked.

  “Let’s see…” Budge made a puttering sound with his lips. “Aw hell, my calendar’s on the computer, and I never learned how to work that thing.”