The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1)

by Brad Magnarella

  Impossible, I thought. Caroline would never let that happen.

  But was it impossible? Given the insinuations against Budge’s opponent, the anonymous source had clearly come from the mayor’s office. And Caroline’s allegiance was to the fae now, to securing the portal in lower Manhattan. In the eyes of her race, the fate of someone like me meant nothing.

  Hence, Caroline’s warnings, I realized.

  But why make me a traitor? Why link me to the bankers?

  Because the portal is located in vampire territory.

  Securing Federal Hall, the building in which the lower portal was housed, was only half the battle for the fae. The other half was them being able to come and go as they needed. The vampires may have been making that difficult, demanding a hefty tribute or something. The solution? Poison my name to mitigate any political fallout from the operation and then put me in league with the vampire bankers, thus poisoning them too.

  Two birds, meet one stone.

  I raised my gaze to the students. “No,” I answered. “It’s not true.”

  Denise let out a relieved laugh. “We knew it.”

  Brie drew a finger through the mascara-tinted tears forming beneath her eyes. Her voice hitched as she spoke. “It’s just, you’re our favorite teacher, and—and—and everyone was talking like you’d done these horrible things. And—and we just refused to believe it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, digging into my pocket and handing her a clean handkerchief. “That’s really nice of you. Both of you. Class will be cancelled until we can get this sorted out.”

  I spoke calmly, but my mind was scrambling like a spider in a glass jar. I needed to get out of here, needed to get to a phone. I would call Vega, even Budge—someone who could tell me what in the hell was going on.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Denise asked.

  “Maybe don’t mention I was here?” I suggested.

  Denise and Brie nodded as though taking solemn vows. That would help, anyway. As they collected their bags, I slung my satchel over a shoulder and retrieved my cane. I would go out the way I came in, don the sunglasses and beard to disguise me from a public that wanted my head on a pike, and go straight to a payphone.

  Someone cleared his throat.

  I spun toward the doorway. At first I saw only the backs of my departing students, but when they stepped around a diminutive figure in a bowtie and three-piece suit, my heart plummeted into my stomach.

  “Going somewhere?” my department chair asked.

  “Professor Snodgrass,” I said, then thought, please tell me you didn’t read this morning’s paper.

  His triumphant grin suggested otherwise. “What did I tell you?” He took a jaunty step into the room. “I said this wasn’t over, that I was going to be watching you. It appears I had good reason, Croft.”

  “It’s Professor Croft,” I answered testily.

  “Not anymore.” He stepped inside the room. “You’re suspended.”

  “Based on an anonymous allegation?” I snorted. “We’ll see what the board has to say about that.”

  “Oh, the board’s spoken.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a crisp white envelope. I searched Snodgrass’s face for a lie as I stood my cane against my desk. I opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. It was a suspension order, signed by Chairman Cowper.

  “Effective immediately,” Snodgrass said, stepping to my side.

  My face smoldered at his undisguised glee. “I can read.”

  “Oh, and there’s more.”

  “What, you’re an admitted cross-dresser?”

  Hands clasped behind his back, Snodgrass gave a forbearing smile. “Hold onto that humor, Mr. Croft. You’re going to need it where you’re going.” He turned his face toward the door and called, “You can come in now.”

  Three bulky NYPD officers pushed into the room. I recognized them as members of the Hundred. One led with a pistol. The other two wielded police batons. Loathing creased their faces.

  “It’s a lie,” I told them.

  “Everson Croft,” the lead officer growled. “You’re under arrest for treason and accessory to mass murder.”

  Snodgrass retreated past the officers. “For the record, the college stands firmly with the NYPD. Use whatever force you deem justifiable, men. Rest assured, there will be no one here to witness it.”

  Without taking my gaze from the advancing officers, I unshouldered my satchel, reached for where I’d set my cane—and swiped air. When Snodgrass turned and stepped into the hallway I saw that he’d hidden my cane behind his back. That son of a… Grinning, he balanced my cane on an index finger and closed the door behind him. I retrained my focus on the advancing officers and tried to summon my wizard’s voice.

  “Look guys,” I stammered, “you need to let me explain.”

  “Explain it to Charlie Dumars,” the lead officer said, his voice low and steely. “Or how about Eddie Gleeson, Don Whitley, T Bone Jones. Explain it to the thirty-two others you murdered.”

  “I underestimated the threat,” I admitted, backing away from them. “I screwed up. But not in the way it’s being spun.”

  “Shut him up,” the lead officer ordered.

  The two flanking officers raised their batons and rushed forward.

  22

  Raw energy crackling against my prism, I aimed my palms toward the advancing officers, squinted my eyes—and at the last second, covered my head. Without my cane, I didn’t have control. I could maim the officers, or worse. God knew, I didn’t need more dead NYPD on my conscience. And it would make me look guilty, putting the remaining officers in the city on shoot-to-kill orders.

  I would take my lumps, play possum, and then determine a non-lethal way out of this.

  I squinted up as the officers descended on me.

  Maybe easier said than done.

  The first baton blow cracked my right forearm, the pain shooting all the way to my shoulder. The second baton caught me across the diaphragm. The air left my lungs in a nauseating grunt. I dropped to my knees and folded over, arms wrapping my head.

  The batons rained down on my back in deep, thudding blows.

  Stay conscious, Everson, I thought through gritted teeth.

  “Stop!” a woman shouted.

  The blows tapered, then ceased. I fell to my side, my body one big, throbbing slab of pain. I could hear the officers breathing heavily as limping footsteps entered the classroom.

  “I want three minutes with him,” the woman said, “then he’s all yours again.”

  I looked up, half-expecting to see a recovered Penny, but I found Detective Vega instead. Hardly a whew moment. Vega glared down at me, her lips a trembling line.

  When the officers didn’t move, she barked, “Alone.”

  The sharpness of the command got them moving. They filed out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

  “Oh, c’mon,” I grunted through the pain. “You don’t believe that horseshit in the paper.”

  “You don’t speak unless I tell you to.” She drew her pistol and aimed it at my head. “On your feet.”

  “Apparently you do,” I muttered.

  “I’m not going to ask you again,” she said.

  “Oh, was that a request?”

  Using the seat of a nearby desk, I pushed myself to one knee and then up to my feet. Amoeba-like spots swam over my vision. When they receded, Vega had stepped closer. She was wearing one of her all-black suits, a metal brace bracketing her right knee. Her knuckles were white around her pistol grip. I’d seen her angry before, but this seemed different, worse.

  “You’re a fucking liar,” she said.

  “Do I have permission to speak now?”

  “You told me you weren’t working with the blood-suckers, and you’re neck deep in them.”

  “Your proof?”

  “And I’m the one who vouched for you, you piece of shit.”

  “Exactly,” I said, anger breaking through my voice. “So how in
the hell could I be a plant?”

  “I swear to God, I could kill you right now.”

  “Really?” I staggered back from her thrusting pistol, my palms showing. I glanced past her to my classroom door, where the officers were peering in through the mesh window. I half considered waving the three inside to resume beating me—I liked my chances better with them—but with my next stumbling step backwards, I was beyond their view.

  “I’d be doing this city a favor,” Vega went on.

  “You’re a detective,” I said. “Exercise some logic, for Christ’s sake. If I’d wanted the Hundred decimated, why did I risk my neck to get them out of the park? Why would I—”

  “Shut up!” she shouted. But her eyes were suddenly out of sync with her voice. They seemed to soften as they cut to my right.

  “Huh?”

  “Shut it, I said!” Louder, and with the same eye motion.

  I peeked over my shoulder. The window. Vega had steered me into the corner and out of sight of the officers for a reason. When I looked back at her, she nodded once, eyes insistent. I reached back and thumbed the latch open. That she didn’t shoot told me I’d read her intentions correctly.

  “You don’t get it!” she shouted, clearly for the officers to hear. “You’re scum to me! You’re nothing!”

  “Thank you,” I said, and slid the window up.

  “I can buy you a minute,” she whispered. “No more.”

  I threw a leg out and, ducking beneath the raised window, brought the other leg out until I was sitting on the sill. I looked down at the one-story drop into an alley that ran behind the college.

  “Vega, I…”

  “Don’t make me regret this,” she whispered, and gave me a shove.

  I plummeted the ten feet, arms pinwheeling. The instant my feet contacted ground, I folded my knees and crashed onto my side. Despite the pain, I was up quickly. I tilted my face to where Vega resumed yelling at the spot where I’d been standing, carrying on the charade.

  She was risking a lot to give me a head start, God love her.

  I took off at a shambling run down the alleyway. I needed to make every second count.

  Paces from breaking out onto Forty-fifth Street I realized my disguise was still in my pocket. I stuttered to a stop, strapped the dark-brown beard around my head, and pushed on my sunglasses. I then peered around the corner. Several police cruisers were parked along the side of the college. More would be rushing in soon. I needed a better disguise.

  I spotted an aging wino squatting in the alcove of a shuttered business, flies buzzing around his fishing hat. Despite the summer heat, he was wrapped in a dirty brown topcoat. Bingo. I just hoped he’d socked away enough brain cells to perform a simple transaction.

  “Hey,” I said, jogging towards him.

  The rim of his stained fishing hat tilted up, and a whiskered face squinted from the shade.

  “How much for the hat and coat?” I asked.

  “How much ya got?” he asked back.

  “How about a twenty?” I fished the bill from my wallet.

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  “Seriously?” I said, looking at the soiled articles. “That’s being very generous.”

  “What? I’m supposed to jump up and shuck my duds at the first whiff of money? I’ve got more dignity than that. Besides,” he said, his eyes taking on a dangerous intelligence, “I know that panting voice. You’re on the run, my friend. Meaning I’m not just providing you goods, but a service.”

  “Service?”

  “You don’t want me to squeal to the boys in blue, do you? Give them an up-to-date description?” He winked as a yellow smile appeared inside his whiskers. “So let me ask you again. How much ya got?”

  I swore as I leafed through my wallet. “One-forty,” I muttered.

  He snatched the sheaf of bills, stuffed them away, and then shed his coat with exaggerated care. I looked over my shoulder, an anxious pressure ballooning my bladder. My minute was almost up.

  “C’mon, already,” I said, shifting from one foot to the other.

  The man stood and insisted on helping me into the coat—an act he also performed as if he had all week. Finally, he pried his hat from an oily pile of hair and pressed it down over my head.

  He looked me up and down. “Out of this world!”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same,” I said, but referring to the coat’s god-awful stench. “Hey, could you see it in your heart to give me back a twenty? I don’t have anything for cab fare.”

  “Read the fine print.” He clapped my shoulder three times. “All transactions final.”

  My face burned at the man’s laughter, but I didn’t have time to argue. A block behind me, shouts were breaking from Midtown College, and I knew what that meant. Without turning, I assumed the staggering walk of the homeless. Plenty of those in Midtown, which was unfortunate for them, but very fortunate for me. The police would be looking for a professor.

  “Good luck,” the man called after me, and laughed some more.

  23

  Police cars crawled past, canvassing the streets around the college. I continued my shuffling walk, eyes alert behind my sunglasses for signs of danger—such as the pair of officers up ahead, sticking their heads into businesses and taking a close look at the foot traffic.

  Can’t appear alarmed, I thought, my pulse racing. Have to keep walking.

  When the officers were almost to me, I staggered toward a man in business attire and petitioned him for change. The man grumbled, and a quarter landed in my palm. The police officers glanced at the exchange but kept walking. I needed to get the hell out of Midtown.

  But where to go?

  I squeezed the quarter as I considered my options. The apartment was out; NYPD would be all over the building. Thankfully, Tabitha would be okay on her own for a few days. She couldn’t get into the fridge, but she’d be able to access the pantry and run the water taps. Worst case, there were pigeons. She wouldn’t be happy about it, but she’d survive.

  I shuffled through a short list of alternate destinations.

  The East Village again? I shook my head. The abandoned buildings might hide me from mobsters but not from a determined police force that numbered in the tens of thousands. That went for any of the crumbling neighborhoods. I didn’t just need a hiding place this time; I needed protection.

  I considered the two who had already offered me safe houses: Caroline and Arnaud.

  I hated both options, frankly. The fae townhouse in the Upper East Side was closer, about thirty blocks north, but there was the Gazette article. If the fae had been the source of the fabricated story, regardless of Caroline’s role, I wouldn’t find safe haven among them now.

  That left Arnaud and his fortified Financial District.

  I swore at the fact I was even considering him. That would be another awful move, though. Besides the fact that Arnaud would only protect me to the extent he could use me, running to the vampires would slap a “guilty” moniker beside my name and ring it in bright red lights.

  No, there had to be a third option.

  More police cruisers appeared. Another foot patrol hurried along the sidewalk across the street from me. I continued my homeless shuffle, pausing to paw through a trashcan. Far down the valley of buildings, the smoky sky opened over the Hudson River, New Jersey on its far shore.

  Something Chicory had told me years before suddenly came back.

  If you need to flee the city for any reason, he’d said, there’s a spot on Gehr Place, just over the river. Little blue house on a short street. You can’t miss it. Chicory didn’t elaborate other than to say the house was to be used in life or death situations only. This seemed to meet that requirement.

  To get there, though, I’d need money.

  I looked at the quarter I’d been handed. Well short of cab fare, but for a bus through the Lincoln Tunnel I’d only need a dollar fifty more. I knew where a stop was, too. Tacking north and west, I petitioned more pedestri
ans. Two blocks later, I had enough—and just as a Jersey-bound bus was pulling up to the stop.

  Thank God.

  I hurried toward the bus and boarded, two foot patrols converging on the sidewalk behind me.

  I took a seat near the bus’s rear door and looked out the grimy window. The police officers stopped to talk. A couple of them pointed back toward the east. With a grunt, the bus pulled from the stop in the opposite direction. I snuck a look around. The handful of passengers jouncing in their seats weren’t interested in me. I relaxed back into the fumes of my coat.

  Almost home free, I thought. Thanks to Vega.

  She must have seen I was being set up and rushed to the college to beat the police there, probably after trying me at my apartment. When she found me in their custody, she had improvised, pretending to want some one-on-one time to tear into me. And, man, had she sold it.

  If I ever got out of this, I owed that woman. Big time.

  Right now, though, I had to consider my next move. After Chicory had told me about the house, I’d located Gehr Place on a map. I pulled up the mental equivalent. Should be easy enough to reach, I thought, working out the route for when I got off the bus. Then I’ll find the blue house and see what’s what. I couldn’t imagine the Order would be upset. I had received permission from Chicory to participate in the eradication program, after all. The lie about working with the vampires could hardly be blamed on me. Then again, we were talking about the Order.

  “Oh, fer chrissake,” the bus driver complained above the sharp hiss of air brakes.

  Seizing the pole beside me, I rose and peered out the front window. We had just crossed Seventh Avenue, and for the next block and a half, red brake lights stared back at us through the smoke. I peered beyond the backup and felt my heart climb into my throat. The police had set up a checkpoint.

  I blew out a hard sigh. Of course they did.

  Up ahead, officers were interrogating drivers and opening trunks and van doors. I pictured a large cordon around Midtown, the college at the epicenter. Probably had the subway stations manned as well.

  But that wasn’t the worst part.