Purge City (Prof Croft Book 3)

by Brad Magnarella

  Over on the bench, Pretzel began to croon about faded love.

  No kidding, I thought. Caroline will never look at me this way again.

  I drew a deep breath and, nodding, took her hand.

  “Let’s make it a good one, then,” I said.

  32

  I stood slowly, feeling my way up the vault door.

  The merry-go-round motion had stopped moments before, and I’d opened my eyes. Gone was the hazy light of the park, Pretzel’s singing, Caroline’s tender touch, the clean scent of fae magic. There was only a soulless darkness that smelled of sulfur and rancid blood.

  But I was still alive.

  I pressed my ear to the door’s cold metal. I couldn’t hear anything. Had the troll massacre ended? Where had Arnaud and the shadow fiend gone? Not out into the city, I hoped.

  Okay, need to focus. Need to—

  “You’re up, I see,” Arnaud said.

  Blood roared in my ears as I spun toward his voice. No, it was too soon!

  From the far end of the vault, footsteps clicked toward me. “You were lying so still, I feared you’d succumbed to the transformation. Not everyone has the constitution for it, I’m afraid. I would wager that for every young man I enslave, three to four die. A horrible inefficiency—a nuisance, really. Especially when one is trying his best to play down his true nature.”

  I pressed myself flat against the vault door, and edged away from his voice, from the soul-raking presence of the shadow fiend.

  “But at last the days of hiding are behind us, Mr. Croft. The trick was making the cost of persecution too high. Today, the city received a taste. Tonight, we will give them so much more.” Arnaud’s eyes shone red in the darkness. Several feet above him, a larger pair of eyes peered hungrily down.

  “You promised the battle would be defensive,” I stammered.

  Arnaud chuckled. “Well, you know what they say. The best defense is a good offense.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Yes, about that…” He and the shadow fiend continued to stalk me in the dark. “I take my pledges very seriously. I have a reputation for my word being as reliable as gold. It’s what elevated me to the heights of lower Manhattan while lesser of my kind ended up in the filth of Forty-second Street. The late Sonny Shoat, for example. But in your case, Mr. Croft, I made an exception to my own rule. And you have your grandfather to blame.”

  “My grandfather? What in the hell does he have to do with this?”

  I could feel the talons of Arnaud’s mind probing my thoughts. What he found was terror and uncertainty.

  “You know about the original Pact, of course,” Arnaud said. “The union between wizards and vampires to resist the enforcers of the Inquisition. Why, you used the Pact’s binding power against me in our first meeting. That never should have happened. Your dear grandfather violated the Pact when he double-crossed not only me, but his fellow wizards.”

  Anger flared hot in my cheeks. “Bullshit.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you for not knowing, Mr. Croft. He hid the deception very well. Indeed, even I wasn’t aware of what he’d done until after his death. But I received a visit one day from someone in your Order. A representative, I suppose. The fellow asked some interesting questions, and though he disguised his mission well, I soon understood what he was after. You see, during the campaign in Eastern Europe, some powerful artifacts were stolen, including the Scaig Box over there. I, along with others, had always assumed the Church to have taken and destroyed them. But by the nature of the fellow’s questions, it became clear he suspected a vampire of the thefts—me, in particular, given my movements during the war. I must have said enough to convince him otherwise, because he left, and I never saw or heard from him again. It got me thinking back, though. Your grandfather, the Grand Mage himself, had been with me or close by during much of the war. He was at the same places the fellow from the Order had mentioned during our interview.”

  I continued to ease along the wall of the vault as he talked, chanting quietly.

  “Fortunately, I kept close tabs on your grandfather since his arrival in Manhattan. He was behaving quite curiously, performing work far beneath his station. A stage magician and insurance man? I was convinced the war had addled his mind. Some form of shell shock. But after the fellow’s visit, I began to wonder whether your grandfather had been hiding something.”

  Though I kept up the chant, I couldn’t help but think about Grandpa’s strange habits, his odd hours.

  “Every so often he would take a trip out to Port Gurney. If you haven’t been, it’s a waterfront town, very working class. Old dockyards, warehouses, a few bars as well. Your grandfather would go directly to one bar in particular—a place called the Rhein House—and sit on the same stool, sometimes for hours. He would then emerge, perfectly sober, and drive home, scarcely having spoken. Maybe the man just liked to spend time in a place suggestive of his German past. Or maybe, I thought, there was more going on than met the eye. Late one night, following the fellow’s visit, I dispatched a pair of slaves to that waterfront bar to have a look around. And do you know what they discovered?”

  “What?”

  “A vault in the bar’s basement. Despite considerable coercion, the owner seemed not to know how to open it, claiming the vault was closed and locked when he bought the establishment. After a bit of research, I discovered a strange clause in the property deed. The vault could not be considered a part of any subsequent sale. Very curious, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “When we finally managed to open the vault, we found the Scaig Box alongside a host of artifacts. Ones belonging to both vampires and wizards. It appears your grandfather used the Pact to steal them. I care not for the wizards’ grievances—that is for them to sort out. But he stole from me. Did you know the earliest vampires were shadow fiends? Only a precious handful remain, and your grandfather took one for himself, the thief.”

  From the darkness above, the shadow fiend smacked its lips.

  “So yes, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud said, swooping in close, “my point is that your grandfather violated the Pact first, effectively dissolving it.”

  I kept moving, trying not to allow Arnaud’s words to challenge my concentration. But the things he was saying … The vampire had no reason to deceive me now, unless it was to incite confusion and dismay, to fill the vault with more of my stress hormones. But I had felt Grandpa’s magic on the Scaig Box. And if Grandpa was as powerful as he seemed, he could easily have cast a projection spell to make it seem as though he were at the bar, drinking for hours, while, in fact, he was down inside the vault, checking on the artifacts.

  But why?

  “I’m not my grandfather,” I said defiantly.

  “Of course not, Mr. Croft,” Arnaud agreed. “If you were even a tenth of the man, you would not be in this precarious position. But that’s neither here nor there. The penalty for violating the Pact is death, and since your grandfather is no longer among us, that penalty defaults to his descendants. Or descendant in this case. Be grateful you didn’t sire children.”

  I was at the back of the vault now, moving past the altar.

  Almost ready…

  “One final thing,” Arnaud said, his voice tightening. “You called me a liar, but remember this. Every mistruth, every furtive act, was in accordance with seeing justice through.”

  “How noble,” I scoffed. “You just left out the part about using me to take over the city.”

  “I merely saw an opportunity. And opportunities are my livelihood.”

  I nodded to myself. Everything was in place.

  “Cerrare,” I called.

  Across the vault, the door rang with the power of the Word. The glow it cast outlined Arnaud and the fiend in a wavering blue light. Arnaud snapped his head toward the door and back to me. His blood-masked face remained placid, but I sensed surprise beyond his eyes.

  “Perhaps you’re more resourceful than I’ve given you c
redit for.” His voice, though cutting, was slightly off. “You’ve tapped into some reserve, I see. But why seal yourself inside?”

  I felt his talons plunge deeper into my thoughts. Or rather, what he believed to be my thoughts. In addition to restoring my magic, Caroline had cast a mental glamour: a mirage of my thoughts—in this case random jags of confusion and terror where none existed.

  “The locking spell?” I replied evenly. “Oh, that’s to keep anyone from coming to help you.”

  He stopped digging, eyes narrowing in on mine.

  I grinned and shouted, “Balaur!”

  Blue light crackled around the coin pendant over my chest and shot a bright beam at Arnaud. The power of the Pact was not only present in the pendant, but just as potent. With an ear-splitting scream, the fiend sliced in front of Arnaud, absorbing the beam into the shadow of its body. The fiend staggered to the floor, smoke rising from its twisting wings.

  “That bit about not giving you enough credit…” Arnaud said from behind me.

  I wheeled, but he had already pulled the necklace over my head.

  “…I take it back.”

  I lunged for the coin pendant. Arnaud smashed me in the jaw with a backhand. The vault whorled and dove as the sting of copper filled my mouth.

  “Were you really trying to bait me into that clumsy trap?” he asked. “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted.”

  Another fist smashed me in the right temple, dropping me to my knees.

  I pawed toward Arnaud, but the recovered fiend grasped me from behind. Though a shadow, the fiend was far from immaterial. The talons of one hand gripped my gut while the other hand clamped my mouth so I couldn’t cast. As its foul, bristling wings wrapped me around, I felt the jagged fangs of its underbite nestle into the shelf at the base of my skull.

  “A moment,” Arnaud said, pacing to the center of the vault where he could face me.

  I stared back at him, eyes pleading.

  “I was prepared to make your death quick, Mr. Croft. A reward for your service, naively given, though it was.” He twirled the necklace around a finger. “But since you insist on being a petulant little bastard, I am going to allow the fiend to savor you while I watch. Perhaps it will help resolve some of the anger I’ve accrued toward your grandfather these past years.”

  He wasn’t a thief, I thought so Arnaud could hear.

  “No?” he answered. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

  The fiend ran its sharp tongue against the back of my head, leaving a burning trail of saliva. I grunted in pain but held still for fear the slightest stimulus would send the fangs into my skull.

  You don’t know what my grandfather’s intentions were, I thought. No one does.

  “And never will, Mr. Croft. This closes the case as far as I’m concerned.” Arnaud raised his eyes to the fiend.

  He helped you, goddammit!

  “And deceived me. I do not suffer betrayal lightly.”

  He gave the necklace another twirl and caught the coin pendant in his hand. As he stroked the symbol with a finger, I remembered the night Grandpa had appeared the necklace from his sleeve.

  The necklace is an heirloom, he’d said. It is meant to protect.

  Thank you, I’d replied. But protect against what?

  Instead of answering, Grandpa had taken the necklace by the chain and placed it around my neck, the heavy coin settling over my sternum, where I could feel its deep, tidal energy.

  Wear it in the city, he’d said, under your shirt.

  “Oh, does this have sentimental value for you, Mr. Croft?” Arnaud asked in a teasing voice.

  I raised my eyes to his. You don’t deserve to be in the same room with it, much less touching it.

  The vampire cocked an eyebrow and placed the necklace around his armored neck. “I don’t know, Mr. Croft. I think it rather suits me.” He turned from side to side, the coin sliding over metal plating. “Perhaps it will become my sentimental piece, something to remember the end of the Croft line.”

  He watched my eyes for my reaction.

  I’d been keeping a silent countdown in my head. Things had moved more quickly than I’d planned, but through a series of challenges and subtle suggestions, I’d gotten Arnaud to don the necklace. Underneath the shadow fiend’s hand, my mashed lips twisted into a smile.

  Checkmate, you arrogant son of a bitch.

  Arnaud’s mouth straightened. “How dare you—”

  …one.

  The shield I’d built around the coin fractured. Amassed energy detonated in a nova of blinding white light, swallowing Arnaud. The explosion cannoned the fiend and me backwards. As we smashed through the wooden altar, I felt the fiend’s fangs clench, only to break into smoke. Where Arnaud had been stood an afterimage, a formidable vampire one moment, a decimation of atoms the next. Blown apart by the power of the Pact. The vampire’s scream rang around the vault for several seconds, a shrill, fading echo. Beneath the pain, I heard raw rage. The wrath of a creature who had won centuries’ worth of battles only to lose the final war—and in the time it took to understand he’d been outwitted by a mortal.

  Pushing myself to my feet, I coughed out a weak laugh. “Not bad for a petulant little bastard.”

  In the center of the vault, Grandpa’s coin pendant rattled to a rest.

  33

  “So let’s see if we can break this down for everyone,” Courtney said. “You were acting as a double double agent?”

  “Well, it’s sort of complicated,” I stammered.

  I had sworn off press conferences, but Mayor Lowder argued this wouldn’t be a press conference, but a relaxed interview. “You want your life back, don’t you?” he asked. He had me there. After the NYPD had extracted me from the ruins of downtown, I had spent the next two weeks in hiding until City Hall could leak the “actual” account of my involvement. “Anyway,” Budge said, “I gave Courtney over at TV 20 first rights to your story.” I wondered if that had anything to do with Budge being a bachelor again and Courtney being gorgeous.

  “‘Complicated’ is an understatement,” the blond anchor said with a small laugh. “You had everyone fooled.”

  A tide of assenting murmurs went up. I glanced around. While the interview was relaxed in the sense I was wearing jeans, Budge failed to mention it would be held in front of a packed auditorium at City Hall.

  I swallowed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “The simple answer is this,” Budge cut in. “I knew the vampires were planning something, but I didn’t know what. So I had Everson here infiltrate their ranks. And when the vampires attacked, guess who was on the inside?” Budge slapped my knee. “My good old secret weapon.”

  “Five vampires destroyed, including Arnaud Thorne,” Courtney cited. “Two captured…”

  Leaderless, and their blood slaves decimated, two of the remaining vampires had fled while two others surrendered to the NYPD. At my suggestion, the vampires were bolted inside steel coffins and their slaves imprisoned in a reinforced shipping container until the city could figure out what to do with them. A short ethics debate followed. In the end, the vampires were executed by cremation in order to restore their blood slaves to mortality. Those young enough to survive the transformation went into immediate counseling.

  “All thanks to Everson’s fine job,” Budge said.

  “So, the Central Park campaign…?” Courtney asked.

  “Mistakes were made,” Budge cut in, “but the buck stops with me and no one else. Especially not Everson here, who risked his life trying to get the other officers out of the park that night.”

  Courtney smiled and tilted her head in approval.

  “And we learned from that experience,” Budge went on. “The fight was better waged from the air, which is what we did. The city’s had to deal with a lot of smoke these past several days—and I do apologize for that—but Central Park is officially clear now. The monsters that once terrorized the woods and meadows are now the ashes from which a new, impr
oved park will rise.”

  “And to that end, I understand you’ll be announcing a jobs program soon?”

  Budge’s embarrassed laugh sounded like part of a script he and Courtney had worked out beforehand. “You’re preempting me a little here, but yeah. With Central Park and the downtown in need of rebuilding, we’re allotting a portion of the federal package to put New Yorkers back to work. There are going to be a ton of new jobs.” He turned toward the crowd. “That is, if you would do me the honor this fall of allowing me to serve a second term.”

  “That seems in little doubt now,” Courtney said above the whoops and applause.

  Budge waved his hand modestly, but Courtney was right. The death of Budge’s wife coupled with his victory over the vampires had vaulted him to a twelve-point lead in the latest poll. The jobs program would only build on that. I had to hand it to him and Caroline. They had conducted a near-flawless campaign, he for the mayorship, she for the fae portal.

  Courtney returned to me. “And will you have a role in the second administration?”

  “I’m planning a little time off, actually,” I said. “There are some things I need to take care of.”

  “I hear you’ll have a new title at Midtown College when you return.”

  “That’s true.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Tenured professor. I received the news this week.”

  “Well, congratulations,” Courtney said as more applause rose up.

  I nodded and gave the same modest wave as the mayor. I wasn’t there when Chairman Cowper announced my tenure to the rest of the faculty, but I was told Professor Snodgrass went into a convulsion that locked his entire body. He was carried out on a stretcher, one of his heeled shoes protruding from his mouth to prevent him from biting through his tongue.

  I had his secretary retrieve my cane from his office.

  “And the honorariums don’t end there,” Courtney said with a sly smile. “Mayor?”

  I turned toward Budge with more than a stab of dread. Okay, what’s going on?