Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9)

by Brad Magnarella

  “And you think they were singled out for that?”

  My magic had been nodding along with me the whole time, and it wasn’t stopping.

  “That particular variant didn’t appear until about twenty-five hundred years ago, which also happened to be the height of ancient Greek culture. You won’t find this in any of the scientific journals, but I think the variant is an artifact of intense worship to one of the gods of travel, quite possibly Hermes. If so, its offering would give the Cronus essence a boost of god vitality. He was Hermes’s grandfather after all.”

  Hoffman lowered his phone and stepped toward us. “They found Eldred.”

  “Good, we should put him in one of the warded cells in the Basement,” I said. “That should keep his shadow from…” I tailed off when I saw Hoffman shaking his head.

  “He was swinging from a belt in his apartment.”

  I stared at him. “Eldred killed himself?”

  “Well, he wasn’t trying to grow another inch.”

  “What does it mean?” Vega asked me.

  An icy hand gripped my heart. “It means his shadow has completed his work here. He’s bonded the final victim.”

  Snapping my eyes closed, I tuned into the amulet I’d given Sunita. It wasn’t signaling a hit on the potion, thank God, but I pulled out my phone and called her anyway, my pulse thumping in my ear.

  “Hello, Everson,” she answered.

  “Are you still wearing the amulet?”

  “Yes, I’m looking at it right now. Is everything all right?”

  I was panting, but I couldn’t help it. “It’s not glowing?”

  “No, it’s been dim since you gave it to me.”

  “And you feel all right?”

  “Fine, except that you’re starting to scare me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I exhaled, scrambling to think. “The club members. Do any of them have explorer pedigrees?”

  “Most are researchers. Well, except for Ludvig—his great grandfather was the famous expeditioner—but he’s not officially a member.”

  I turned slowly toward the one-way mirror. Ludvig was still at the table, staring soberly at his cuffed hands.

  “Why?” Sunita asked.

  Ludvig looked up as I entered the interview room.

  Exploration is in my blood, I heard him saying when we’d met the night before.

  My own blood roared in my head as I stepped toward him. He followed the tip of my cane down to his stomach, his expression going from confused to concerned. I tapped into what remained of the hunting spell on the bonding potion.

  “Attivare,” I whispered.

  The cane wiggled.

  35

  “What’s going on?” Ludvig asked.

  “Yeah, and feel free to clue me in too,” Hoffman snarled, limping in behind me. “I’m only lead here.”

  My cane wiggled again. “The potion’s inside him,” I said.

  Ludvig looked between my cane and my face. “P-Potion?”

  “Did you have a drink at the Discovery Society after last night’s meeting?” I asked him.

  “No, I left.”

  “What about once you were home?”

  “Just the usual. A couple glasses of water, warm milk before bed. Oh, and a bit of Discovery Select. A bottle arrived at my apartment yesterday, a gift from the club. After seeing the scene at the park with the police this morning, I—I needed something to calm myself. I took two shots. Maybe three.” He licked his lips nervously. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I need you to drink this,” I said, pulling a vial from a coat pocket. I spoke an incantation, causing the clear liquid inside to bubble as I handed it to him. “It’s a potion to negate the one inside you.”

  “O-okay,” he stammered, shooting it in one tilt.

  I waited, but my cane continued to wiggle. Having already taken effect, the bonding potion was glued fast to his system.

  “Give us a minute,” I said, swearing silently.

  I turned to Hoffman, and we walked back toward Vega, who’d remained in the doorway.

  “Eldred has Ludvig’s shadow version,” I said in a lowered voice. “He’s the final victim. Eldred is going to drain him for his offering, if he hasn’t already started. When that happens, this Ludvig will die from blood loss. Not only that, but Eldred will release a major Greek god from an underworld prison.”

  Hoffman’s face lumped up as he tried to make sense of what I was saying, but Vega understood the urgency,

  “What do you need to do?” she asked.

  “I need to go there,” I said. “Fast.”

  Concern lines creased her brow, but she knew it was my job. “Do you have everything you need?”

  I patted my coat pockets and then the holstered shotgun I’d been carrying all day—security in case the killer yanked me back to the shadow present again. It hadn’t happened, but the upshot was I was prepared now. I had a good idea where he’d be performing the ritual, too, but I needed to be sure.

  “Just about,” I said. “I’m going to cast a hunting spell on Ludvig’s hair. While I’m doing that, can you call Claudius?”

  “And tell him what?” she asked.

  “That I’m going to need a ride.”

  I’d just finished the hunting spell when Claudius emerged through a portal outside the interview room with Sven in tow. His curtains of hair were in disarray, but it appeared to have been one of Claudius’s more benign transits, with nothing clinging to or chasing him. He closed the portal and pressed his fingers into his stomach.

  “Darn it, I can already feel things slowing down.”

  I stepped over to Sven, who was glancing around the corridor. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thanks,” he said, hiking up his pack and massaging his healed shoulder. “It’s just a little tender.”

  When he spotted Vega, he jerked back a step.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “She’s cool here. Sven, this is my wife, Detective Vega. And this is Sven Roe—until he tells us otherwise.”

  Sven looked between us in surprise before gathering himself and coming forward. Vega greeted him with a handshake, glancing over at me in a way that said, I trust you’ll explain his reaction later.

  I nodded quickly.

  “All right,” I said. “Claudius is going to take me and Sven to the Discovery Society. From there, Sven will transport me to the shadow realm. After I stop the ritual and recover the object, he’ll bring me back.”

  “That easy, huh?” Vega said. “Can’t you take anyone else?”

  I stepped over to her. “I’d bring backup if I could, believe me, but the tablet only endowed Sven and me with the ability to cross.”

  “Do you think Eldred’s expecting you?”

  “I know he’s expecting me,” I replied honestly, taking another inventory of my coat by feel. “But I’ve been at this game longer than he has.” Finishing my pat-down, I kissed her firmly. “He’s not going to win.”

  She fixed my eyes with hers. “Be careful.”

  I held the sides of her stomach, then turned to Claudius. “You ready?”

  He was grimacing as if trying to force-start his peristaltic motion, but he straightened quickly and waved Sven and me over.

  “I have a route in mind,” he said. “Best if we link arms, I think.”

  “The less complicated, the better,” I stressed.

  “Yes, yes.”

  I took the middle position, his bony elbow hooked in my right arm and Sven’s elbow in my left. As Claudius signed into the air, I took a final look around. Hoffman was leaning against a wall, his face set in a frown, but he shifted his crossed arms enough to give me a thumbs-up. Beside him, Vega watched intently. She nodded that she believed in me. I winked and nodded back.

  Finally, I caught Ludvig through the one-way mirror. Maybe it was an effect of the fluorescent lights, but his skin looked as if it was starting to blanch. Was his shadow being blood-drained at that moment?

  “Here
we go!” Claudius called. “Hold on!”

  The portal that sucked us inside sounded like a 747 turbine and lifted me from my feet. I hugged Claudius’s and Sven’s arms against my sides as chaotic forces assailed us, trying to wrench us apart. I lost my hold on one, then the other, my body flipping around like a mailbox caught in a tornado.

  In the next moment, horns were blaring, and I was spinning on my back. Tires squealed a few feet to my right. To my left, a cabbie was leaning out his window, shouting at me to move. Collecting my cane, I pushed myself up from the street and stumbled backwards. I tripped and landed seat-down on a sidewalk. A short distance away, Claudius and Sven were recovering from their own spills, Claudius hopping on one foot to reclaim a lost slipper.

  “My apologies,” he called over a shoulder, straightening his blue-tinted shades. “The realm was a lot more temperamental than I remember.”

  I went to check on Sven, who was rising stiffly. He nodded that he was all right and opened his pack to check on the Hermes box. I did the same with the spell items in my coat. Miraculously, they were all present and intact.

  “The good thing,” Claudius said as he rejoined us with both slippers, “is that the turbulence seems to have gotten things moving again.” He smiled and patted his stomach, then noticed the plaque for the Discovery Society on the townhouse at Sven’s back. “Ah, and I see we’ve made it.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said thinly.

  “Well, if that’s all for now, I should log a couple more hours of phone time before my date with Elsie.” He squinted in sudden bafflement. “Or was Edna tonight and Elsie tomorrow?” He shook his head. “Well, in either case…”

  Oblivious to the crowd around us, he signed a portal into being and disappeared through it. I gestured for Sven to follow me, and we hurried from the stunned onlookers and into the alley behind the club.

  “I don’t know why we can’t do this inside,” Sven said.

  “Because I don’t know what’s going to be waiting for us over there.”

  “I can help,” he insisted. “I’m a vessel for Hermes.”

  “You are helping.”

  “I mean in the club.”

  “I know what you mean, but what if something happened to you? I’d be trapped there.” I would also never forgive myself, but I was talking to a teenager. “Stick to the plan, all right? Get me there and then wait. When I’m done, I’ll come to you. Right here,” I emphasized, pointing at our spot behind the dumpster. “Well, here when we get there,” I amended.

  He sighed, but I held his gaze until he nodded. “All right,” he agreed.

  “I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without you,” I said. “Are you ready?”

  A determined look came over his face, and he embraced me. I patted his back before realizing he was transporting us. My stomach dipped, and the scene changed from late afternoon to a smoky dusk.

  Sven stepped back, a shadow being back in his shadow element. I peered up. A board covered the second-story window I’d broken through the night before. As I’d hoped, the security bars hadn’t been replaced. A gap remained, large enough to squeeze through. But first, the hunting spell.

  I was piggy-backing off Eldred’s bonding potion, betting that it would enable me to use Ludvig’s hair in the actual present to hunt his shadow here. When my cane jerked in my grip, I was relieved to see I’d bet right. The cane steadied and angled downward, telling me I’d been right about something else: the ritual was happening in the basement. I activated a stealth potion and downed it in three quick gulps.

  “Good luck,” Sven said.

  “If you get into any trouble, go back. There’s a package store on West Seventieth called Morton’s that exists in both our realities. If I don’t see you here, or if for some reason I can’t come out this way, I’ll head to the store. When you think it’s safe, pick me up there.”

  He nodded.

  I squeezed his good shoulder and, with a force invocation, launched myself onto the window ledge.

  36

  I touched the end of my cane to the boarded window and whispered a Word. Having taken a couple trips the shadow present now, I knew to compensate for the weaker energy. Nails groaned and popped loose, releasing the board. Before it could pancake into the room, I caught it with another invocation and lowered it gently.

  The door I’d blown through in my escape looked as if it had been removed. Fortunately, the window was to one side of the rectangle of light from the corridor and hidden in darkness. By the time I squeezed through the broken security bars, my stealth potion had taken effect, and I landed inside without so much as a thump. I poked my head back out. Sven wasn’t in sight, telling me he’d activated his vagueness rune. I flashed a thumbs-up to tell him so far, so good and replaced the board over the window.

  My cane wiggled, still indicating Ludvig was in the basement.

  With my back to a wall, I listened into the corridor. I’d never been the ultimate strategist—part of the reason I hadn’t given up trying to recruit the Blue Wolf—but I felt I had a good grasp of the situation.

  Eldred wasn’t a magic-user, but he could concoct potions, probably with the help of the powerful artifact he wielded. He would also have zealous devotees. Those were my assumptions. More certain was his influence over the NYPD and that he retained the services of a powerful shapeshifter. So, experienced or not, Eldred was dangerous. Even more so since my invocations weren’t as strong here.

  Down the corridor, someone cleared his throat. I stiffened, but no footsteps approached.

  Sentry, I thought.

  Pulling a second potion from my pocket, I activated it and drank it down. The potion bubbled in my stomach, trying to take effect, but I suppressed it. The many-many potion was for just in case.

  I peeked around the corner. A tall man stood twenty feet away, his butt against the wall. Farther down, beyond the staircase, stood a second man. They were armed with walkie-talkies and holstered firearms, but neither item looked police-issue. These were Society devotees. I’d half expected hooded robes and creepy amulets, but the two were dressed as if they’d just come from church, which made them seem creepier somehow.

  I waited for the closer man to turn away before slipping out. From there, I crept toward him.

  And past him.

  Even with the stealth potion, I didn’t release my breath until I’d accessed the stairs and was halfway down. The walls were fire-damaged from the storm I’d unleashed the night before. The carpeting had since been removed, exposing old wood that, without the potion, would have creaked beneath my weight.

  I emerged onto the ground floor, where more devotees were stationed along the hall of portraits. I slipped past them like a specter. Engaging these guys would only slow me down and sound a major alarm. Like the single-minded tug of my cane, my goal remained getting to the basement.

  I moved more quickly now, becoming increasingly conscious of the passing seconds. How much longer did Ludvig have? Or, God forbid, was the ritual already complete? The passing portraits weren’t of famous explorers and researchers anymore, I noticed, but staring men and women. Their plaques bore no names, just the same eerie title: Moró. Greek for baby.

  The flag had changed as well, to a black banner with a crisscrossing of scythes.

  “SOCIETY OF CRONUS,” it read.

  Farther down the corridor, the portraits grew larger and the titles took on military ranks. It culminated in an entire section for the leadership. The Society’s president, listed simply as “Eldred,” looked much as he did in the actual present, except that his combed-back hair was jet black and the mole beside his nose had ballooned, its weight pulling down the lower lid of his right eye.

  Four portraits beneath showed the rest of the cabinet. His number two, a balding man with a long face, was the only one smiling. Crescents gleamed around his irises.

  Beware the shadow of many faces.

  For better or worse, my assumptions were bearing out so far.

  The
door to the library was closed and locked. I retrieved my vial of dragon sand, shook out two granules, and placed them in the keyhole. I looked down the corridor before whispering, “Fuoco.”

  The granules superheated until a transparent finger of white fire jetted from the keyhole. It was the visual subtlety I’d wanted, but I hadn’t factored in the corridor’s acoustics. The flame’s steady hiss reverberated from the walls, drawing the closest devotee’s attention. The portly man hiked up his pants and began to amble toward me.

  Shit.

  The flame had disappeared back inside the keyhole, but smoke was beginning to curl out, and I could hear the metal bubbling in the door’s locking mechanism. The man had his walkie-talkie in hand, ready for action, while his other hand gripped his holstered pistol.

  The thing with stealth potions was they made you inconspicuous more than invisible. Once a person knew where to look, the gig was up.

  Aiming my cane at the runner along the floor, I whispered, “Vigore.”

  The force shoved the rug into a small hillock, which the man met with his next step. He stumbled and went down swearing. Another devotee hurried over to help him. I used the distraction to open the door, slip inside the library, and seal the door with a locking spell.

  Outside, I could hear one of them saying, “I knew this was a tripping hazard waiting to happen.”

  The lights were out in the library. I listened into the darkness before casting up a crackling ball. As its illumination spread, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see that the library had become a temple. Gone were the bookcases and taxidermy mounts. In their places stood rows of wooden pews and a large altar that featured the same crisscross of scythes on the flag, only these were dripping.

  Yeah, that seems normal.

  My ears rang with the ominous silence as I peered around to orient myself. If the NYPD were here, they were likely covering the outside of the building. The same wouldn’t be true of the shifter.