Black Luck (Prof Croft Book 5)

by Brad Magnarella

  Doors began to open up and down the hallway, and grumbling tenants peered out. I pulled out my NYPD card and flashed it to both sides while pounding the door again.

  “Mae!”

  Back in the cab I had almost said “screw it” and gone straight to the stadium, but Gretchen’s warning kept pinging in my head: Don’t open any more loops, whatever you do. She hadn’t said what the consequences would be, but they weren’t hard to imagine. Such as the black luck crashing back at the worst possible time.

  I was about to pound again when the door opened and Mae squinted out at me. She was wearing a night robe and shower cap through which I could see a creamy hair treatment.

  “Everson?” she said. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

  “This hour? It’s not even eight thirty.”

  “Well, I’m in bed every night at eight sharp. My body wakes me up at four a.m. no matter what, so—”

  “That’s great,” I interrupted. “But we’ve gotta go.”

  Her eyes squinted at me another moment before popping wide in understanding. “Are you saying…?”

  I nodded. “We’ve got an assignment. A big one.”

  “All right, well hold on,” she stammered, shuffling her walker in a half circle. “Let me change out of this and rinse my hair real quick. Then I’ve gotta put on some special shoes for my bunions. If I can remember where they are…”

  “No, Mae, it has to be now. Fifty-thousand lives are in jeopardy.”

  She turned back to face me. “Fifty thousand? Lord Almighty. Okay, just need to grab one thing.”

  Before I could stop her, she slammed the door, and I heard her shuffle away. I shifted from foot to foot as I checked my watch. The stadium was at full capacity now. How long would it take for Damien to activate whatever he’d planted there? The door opened, and Mae emerged holding a small pet carrier. Buster’s tendrils writhed through the wire mesh door.

  “You’re taking him?”

  “I can’t leave him here all by himself,” Mae said, as if that should have been obvious. “He’s just a baby.”

  Buster squealed once.

  There was no time to argue. I took the carrier so she could manage her walker. While the elevator rattled us down, I gave her a quick account of what was happening. Outside, she climbed into the cab, and I set the pet carrier on her lap. I then folded her walker and threw it into the front seat beside Kumar.

  When we were all in, Kumar took off again. He hadn’t wanted to stop at Mae’s until I told him it wouldn’t count toward the fifteen minutes. To earn his hundred, he had four minutes left to get us to the stadium.

  Apartments and row houses shot past my window. Not wanting to repeat my earlier mistake, I pulled out my remaining potion and my travel bag. I found the small lighter at the bag’s bottom and thumbed the wheel. Incanting, I waved the flame beneath the clay tube. Kumar was too focused on weaving through traffic at a high rate of speed to notice what I was doing, but Mae made several noises of interest as she watched. When I felt the potion activate, I killed the lighter and slid the warm potion into my coat’s inside pocket.

  “What is that?” Mae asked.

  “The most powerful potion I’ve ever mixed,” I replied, unable to hide my pride. It was the one I’d been working on for the last year, determined to get right. “When I drink it, stand back.”

  I was preparing to elaborate when we shot onto the Macombs Dam Bridge connecting Upper Manhattan and the Bronx. Beyond the steel trusses, I could see Yankee Stadium glowing like a beacon. I could even hear the din of fan noise. It didn’t sound like panic yet. A large number of police cruisers were parked around the stadium, lights flashing.

  Kumar aimed for them and pressed the gas until the needle trembled past eighty. The stadium seemed to rush up on us.

  “Whoa, s-slow down there,” I stammered. “Slow down!”

  Kumar slammed the breaks, and we slewed sideways between a pair of squad cars and up onto the sidewalk. Buster let out a shriek and crouched low, claws over his face. The tires pealed as we rocked to a stop just shy of a row of bollards. Kumar turned and flashed a victorious smile.

  “Fourteen minute, fifty-six second.”

  “Good Lord,” Mae said, a hand to her chest.

  “Yeah, I would’ve spotted you those few extra seconds,” I told Kumar, pulling out the fare plus one hundred and slapping the stack into his palm. I got out, took the carrier from Mae, and prepared her walker.

  A pair of police officers hustled over, and I pulled out my NYPD card. “It’s all right,” I said. “I told the driver to do that.”

  The first officer to arrive took my ID and looked it over. “Are you the one who left a message about an imminent attack?” she asked.

  “It got through?” I looked around. “Why the hell isn’t the stadium evacuating?”

  “Because every exit is sealed,” Detective Hoffman said, walking up from the other side. “We can’t open them, not even with the rams.”

  I turned to face him. “Is Vega here?”

  “She’s down in Red Hook with your pal. I happened to be up this way when I got your message. I alerted every car in the area. There are more on the way. Hey, you were right about the suspects at Central Park,” he said, explaining why he would ever listen to me in the first place.

  “Alert the crowd, and I’ll start opening the gates,” I said quickly.

  “Open the gates first,” he demanded. “Cause if you can’t, we’re gonna have the mother of all panics on our hands. People are gonna get trampled and crushed to death. Maybe for nothing.”

  I’d been prepared to argue, but he was right. I ran up to the glass doors at Gate 4. Familiar dark magic writhed around the doorframes, like hundreds of snakes. I uttered a Word to dissolve the locking spell, but no power moved through me. When I tried again, the result was the same.

  …the hell?

  Then I remembered how I’d hit on Yankee Stadium to begin with. Damien had altered the ley lines, voiding the stadium of energy. Without ley energy to channel, I couldn’t cast here, not even to find and undo whatever magic he’d used to force out the ley lines in the first place.

  That left the potion I’d activated in the cab and the enchanted items I carried: my ring, coin pendant, and sword. The ring only worked against vampires, though, and I’d already used the pendant against Damien, at the packing plant. According to Arianna, my father had buried enchantments in the sword, but I didn’t know what they were, and none had activated yet.

  I drew the sword anyway and inserted its tip between the glass doors in front of me. The runes in the blades glowed white. The binding magic responded by wriggling uncomfortably. Deep in the stadium something rumbled. I withdrew the blade quickly and watched the binding magic resume its writhing course. The rumbling subsided.

  Damn, I thought, backing away.

  “Any luck?” Hoffman asked.

  “The doors aren’t just locked, they’re armed,” I said. “The second they’re breached, whatever Damien planted inside will activate.” I still suspected a giant infernal bag. Why it hadn’t gone off yet, I didn’t know. Maybe Damien was still imbuing it for maximum effectiveness.

  “We’ve got choppers on the way,” Hoffman said. “They’re gonna pick up the mayor, players, and some other VIP. I can have one of them land out here and give you a lift in.”

  “What about the fans?” I asked.

  “There’s more than fifty thousand, Croft.” The disapproval must have shown on my face because he said, “Look, we’ve got the fire department arriving too. There are some gaps between the bleachers and stands that their ladders can reach, but that’s not gonna be much quicker than airlifting everyone. We’re talking hours. Until then, they’re trapped. What I’m trying to say is that if you’re sure something’s happening, it’s gonna be up to you to stop it.”

  “And me,” Mae said, clacking up on her walker, the pet carrier swinging from the right handle.

  Hoffman squinted at her in
confusion. But before he could ask who she was, the thumping of rotary blades sounded above the whine of approaching fire engines. Hoffman spoke into his radio while waving at the lead chopper and pointing to the intersection in front of the stadium.

  The chopper descended, its landing lights glaring, while the rest of the fleet disappeared over the stadium’s bowl. The decibel level in the stadium rose a notch, the fans no doubt believing the arriving helicopters to be part of the pre-game show.

  “You know how to work one of these?” Hoffman shouted above the noise of the helicopter. He was holding out a small two-way radio with a shoulder microphone. “It’s set to receive. Hold down this button when you want to talk.”

  I was about to tell him I was more likely to blow the radio up when I remembered I was in a dead zone. My aura was at minimum strength, meaning electronics would be safe around me.

  “I’ve got a team working on the employee cross-check you requested,” he said. “I’ll let you know if they learn anything.”

  “Thanks,” I shouted back as he clipped the shoulder mic to my collar.

  “Just don’t fuck this up.”

  Hoffman clapped my shoulder hard enough to send me in the direction of the chopper. Mae was right beside me, head bowed as her shower cap and gown flapped in the rotor wash.

  “Maybe you should stay outside,” I told her. “You know … secure the perimeter.”

  She frowned at me. “Don’t try and ditch me with some bullshit. I heard everything you said. The action’s on the inside, so that’s where I’m gonna be. Even though I’m scared to death of flying.”

  “All the more reason,” I said in a final attempt to get her to stay.

  She rolled her eyes and continued tapping her walker toward the helicopter. A police officer in SWAT gear emerged, opened the side door, and helped Mae inside. I climbed in after her and buckled us both in.

  “So you’re the A-team,” the pilot said, peering over his shoulder.

  “That’s right,” Mae said proudly before I could answer. “Everson Croft and Mae Johnson.”

  The pilot shrugged as if that meant nothing to him. When the other officer was back inside, he lifted off. Vertigo hit me as the squad cars and crowds of officers shrank beneath us and the steep wall of the stadium rushed up in front. Soon, we were over the stadium’s steel frieze, and I got my first look at the crowd of people. Fifty thousand sounded like a lot, but to see them all packed in one place—and knowing they were in the clutches of a powerful demon—made me feel faint.

  As we descended past the upper bowl, the wall of noise hit us full on. The fans were still cheering the arrival of the helicopters. Two had touched down near the home dugout, and I could see security escorting Budge and his entourage from the dugout toward the waiting choppers.

  Unable to resist the opportunity for attention, Budge stopped to wave at the crowd with both arms. When the feed showed him on the giant screen above center field, the crowd responded with a surge of noise. He was still popular, somehow. Or maybe the crowd was just primed for a playoff game that, unbeknownst to them, had been cancelled. Next to leave the dugout were a line of men in street clothes, hoodies hiding their faces—the players.

  The feed quickly switched to a woman in a white sequin gown standing behind home plate with a microphone and color guard. She peered around with a fixed smile, awaiting her cue to begin the national anthem.

  As we continued to drop toward the outfield, I glanced over at Mae. She had squeezed her eyes shut and was hugging the pet carrier with both arms. I couldn’t help but admire her determination. Frightened or not, she was dead set on helping. But was putting her in harm’s way the right move? Before I could answer, we were touching down.

  “This is your stop,” the pilot said over his shoulder.

  I got out and helped Mae down. As we stepped onto the manicured grass, I peered around. I’d never attended a game in the new Yankee Stadium, and the place was huge. Where was I going to start the search for the infernal bag? A half dozen security guards jogged up to us.

  “NYPD says you’re looking for something?” the man in the lead said.

  I nodded, meeting his eyes to center myself. “A big sack,” I said, not knowing for sure. I was guesstimating based on what I’d encountered so far. “Might be leather, but it’s going to be stuffed. I need you to look anywhere one could be stashed. The restaurants, stores, concessions.”

  “What’s your frequency?” the man asked.

  “Huh?” Then I realized he meant my radio.

  I showed him the unit and he nodded. “We’ll call if we find anything.”

  As his team fanned out, I noticed Mae’s pet carrier rocking. Inside, Buster was running around in circles.

  “What’s a matter, baby?” Mae asked him.

  The first screams of terror landed like needles in my brain, but they weren’t coming from the cage. I spun toward right field, trying to make sense of the commotion in the stands. The screams had originated from inside the concourse, but now they were emerging onto the main level of grandstand seating. People were fleeing something. The stadium’s pitch lowered to a din of murmurs as people started to take notice before it rose again suddenly.

  Like an agitated storm of wasps, imps began blowing in from the concourse. I watched helplessly as a spiny imp seized a large man’s neck in its jaws and, in a spray of gore, ripped out his soul.

  “Lord Almighty,” Mae said beside me.

  30

  I drew out the potion I’d prepared in the cab, yanked off the cap with my teeth, and drank it down. The potion would take several minutes to work, but with the carnage spreading, I couldn’t just stand there. I drew my sword from my staff. Before I could make a move toward the stands, Mae grabbed my arm.

  “If those things don’t kill you, the crowd will,” she hollered.

  In their terror, fans were climbing over one another to escape the imps. The first fan leapt from the grandstand into the rows beneath him. Others followed. I couldn’t blame them. The imps were bigger and uglier than the ones from the other infernal bags—and more deadly. I watched their teeth and talons tear out more souls and toss the bodies off like rinds.

  “I have to do something,” I shouted and shook her loose.

  The imps were swarming into the adjacent stands now. A few spotted me and flew toward the field. I was running at full speed by the time they reached me. I cleaved the first one in half at the torso, then thrust the blade up through the heart of another coming in overhead. With a violent rip, I took out half its chest and left wing. It fell to the ground with a shriek.

  I kept my legs and blade in motion as the potion mixed with my chemistry. I couldn’t banish the creatures, but I could keep the ones I crippled from attacking anyone until I found the bag that had spawned them.

  C’mon, dammit, I thought toward the potion. Start working.

  In my peripheral vision, I could see the rest of the stadium stampeding into the concourses. It was only a matter of minutes before they would reach the outer gates and find them sealed—Hoffman’s nightmare scenario.

  I maimed two more imps and climbed into the stands at the foul line. For now, the fleeing crowd was giving me a path to the concourses inside. Then it would be a matter of following the imps back to their source.

  But loud shrieks from behind made me turn. Imps were blowing into the left field stands now, turning the fans back out. And the storm was only growing thicker. The imps were going to wipe out the entire stadium.

  “Stop this nonsense!” a familiar voice boomed over the sound system.

  I turned and spotted Mae behind home plate. She had recovered the microphone from where the national anthem singer had dropped it when she fled along with the color guard.

  “Leave those people alone!” Her voice reverberated around the stadium.

  The hell is she doing?

  But something was happening. The imps were rotating their heads at the sound of her voice. I spotted a hideous speckled creat
ure, its talons in the hair of a screaming woman, its other hand reared back for the kill, hesitate long enough for the victim to disentangle herself and scramble away.

  “You heard me!” Mae shouted. “Get off those nice people, and get down to the field!”

  Slowly, the imps began releasing their victims. They flew, hopped, and crawled toward the outfield, several passing within feet of me. I couldn’t believe it. When the first ones arrived onto the grass, their heads and shoulders sulked a little, as if expecting punishment.

  Mae walked toward them in her shower cap and gown, using her thighs to advance her walker. Buster’s carrier swung from the right handle while the microphone cord trailed out behind. It was one of the most absurd things I’d ever seen … except that the creatures were listening to her.

  “You want me to come up there and pop you?” she shouted at the laggards. “All of you down here with the others! Now!” The microphone picked up Buster’s squealed exclamation.

  The imps arrived in hordes until the last of them had left the bloodied stands where hundreds of fans had fallen victim. Soon the outfield was packed with creatures. The scene looked like a nightmare Lollapalooza. When Mae arrived at the edge of the grass, she stopped and glared across their numbers. The stadium lights reflected from her thick glasses in menacing flashes. I didn’t know where her abilities had come from, but Mae had a gift.

  “Now you’re going to sit there, head between your legs,” she ordered. “And I don’t want to hear another peep out of you.”

  The imps chattered among themselves, glowing eyes seeming to ask each other what they should do. I’d been climbing as I watched, but now I paused, terrified they were going to recover their malice and swarm Mae. But starting at the front, they began to descend, falling to haunches and spiked tails in a wave. When they were all seated, they fell silent—and I released my breath.

  Mae’s gaze found me, the lone person in the lower seats. “They’re not going anywhere,” she assured me. “Find that bag.”

  I nodded quickly and ran through the exit and up a ramp until I was in the Great Hall. The large concourse was a thick river of packed bodies. I looked around. I hadn’t heard back from security, and without the imps to backtrack along, I didn’t know where to go. Their attack had ended, but I could feel a low vibrating, and it wasn’t coming from the moving crowd. The vibrating shook my eardrums. A powerful, dark energy was building in the stadium.