Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9)

by Brad Magnarella

  “My favorite wizard,” he finished with a contented sigh. “I knew I could count on you. So, when can I get you in front of the cameras? How about a weekend presser? I want the city to know who to thank.”

  Having learned my lesson from his eradication campaign, I said, “Actually, better they don’t.”

  I also received a call from Vince Cole, the lawyer. He thanked me for bringing his friend’s killer to justice. He also wanted me to know he was dropping his lawsuit against the NYPD. But he surprised me with his next question.

  “What can I do for you?”

  My answer was to explain Ludvig’s situation. With his shadow safe and the potion out of his system, he was recovering. But because he’d confessed to the thefts of his great grandfather’s possessions, he remained in custody. Cole agreed to take his case pro bono and assured me that not only would he get him released, but that by the time they were done, every last item would be legally his.

  Not long after, Bear’s wife called, tearful, but grateful. In the course of our conversation, I learned that she’d been concerned over his sudden aggression. Vince had noticed too. Believing drugs involved, they’d been planning an intervention—that’s why they’d been communicating behind his back. Neither one had known about the trials to enhance his explorer gene.

  The woman who had, Sunita Sharma, visited me the next day, and I was able to return her Ganesh pin. She listened, stunned, as I described how the elephant god had sprung forth to confront and ultimately stomp the shifter, sparing shadow Vega and allowing me to focus on Eldred. When she replaced the pin on the shoulder of her sari, I believe she did so with newfound reverence for the heirloom.

  Several friends visited, including Mae and Bree-yark—though separately, I noticed. Tony, back from his cousins’ now that the apartment was deemed safe, popped in and out of my room throughout the week. He’d discovered Mad Libs, the choose-a-noun, choose-a-color game, and we laughed through an entire book together.

  “Can this count toward my summer reading?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to check with your mom, but I’m thinking probably not?”

  Undeterred, he flipped the page and we started on the next one.

  Claudius showed up too. By his surprised reaction, I suspected he’d meant to transport somewhere else, but he played it off well. He fished a couple Werther’s Originals from a pocket, and we enjoyed them together, him sucking and slurping contentedly, before he had to leave for wherever he’d intended to go.

  “Oh!” he said, popping his head from the closing portal. “I’m supposed to tell you someone from the Order is coming tomorrow…”

  I finally wrote my review for Gowdie’s. Giving the antique store four stars took an inordinate amount of willpower, and praising it, modestly or not, more still. But a deal was a deal, especially with swamp hags. In the end, I described their store as “enchanting” and the sisters as “colorful,” but I made sure to mention their aversion to haggling. The city didn’t need any more Doug the Shrubs.

  I happened to be alone in the apartment the following day when a knock sounded on the door. Remembering Claudius’s parting message, I expected Gretchen. I was surprised to find one of the most powerful magic-users in the world standing on my threshold instead. She was dressed in slacks and a fern-green blouse, her long white hair braided neatly.

  “Arianna,” I stammered.

  “Hello, Everson,” she said in her strong, maternal voice.

  She had been very close with my mother. In fact, she was the one who had delivered me in the Refuge. We hugged, and I showed her into the apartment.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Still tired, but improving every day.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”

  With a few softly spoken words, she sent an invigorating charge through me. When the sensation settled, I felt like I’d just awakened from a power nap. My nerves hummed, rested and alert.

  “Thanks,” I said, testing my legs. “Hey, would you mind taking a walk? I know you just got here, but I’ve been cooped up inside all week.”

  Tabitha stirred enough on the divan to murmur, “You haven’t suffered alone.”

  Arianna smiled. “Say no more. I know the feeling,” she added, perhaps referring to her time in the Harkless Rift.

  We descended to the street and strolled through the West Village. It had rained earlier, and the air over the damp sidewalks smelled fresh. My legs bounced in a way they hadn’t in many days. Though Arianna said nothing, I suspected she’d restored at least part of the year of youth I’d bargained off to the hag sisters.

  “You must be wondering why I never came,” she said.

  “It did cross my mind,” I admitted.

  “Our work in the interplanar realms has been eye-opening, Everson. At first, we believed the damage Chaos inflicted to have been limited, and that’s where we’ve focused our efforts. But the interplanar layers aren’t static. They’re always in flux. And with each shift, more breaches are exposed. Some resulted from that seminal event, but others are much older. Tens or even hundreds of thousands of years, in some cases. They explain why certain events occur cyclically. Some breaches we can close and others, we’ve learned, we cannot. We’re updating our maps to note the cycles. What this all means is that in addition to our work on the tears, we must remain in constant motion ourselves, shifting senior members to the episodic breaches we can’t close to repel anything coming through.”

  “Are you saying you won’t be able to help down here?” I asked in concern. I always felt like a kid in Arianna’s presence, which wasn’t so strange when you considered she had a few centuries on me.

  “We’ll help when and where we can. But given the state of things, you should never expect it. Always remember, the same magic that moves through us moves through you.” She looked at me meaningfully. “You’ve proven yourself more than capable, Everson. Just look at the events of last week.”

  Sure, I’d listened to my magic, but I’d also gotten caught up in the flurry of events and moving pieces. I knew what she was saying, though. The ability was there. It was a matter of continuing to develop it through practice.

  “Has this ever happened before?” I asked. “An entity threatening from a shadow present.”

  “Not like this, no. Though the layer between the actual and the probable is thin, the ability to bridge the two was only developed one time, in one age, and then it was lost. Until the item reappeared.”

  There was the Hermes Tablet and the Scythe of Cronus, so why was she using the singular?

  “I’m not referring to either,” Arianna said, picking up the question. “I mean the container. The box was the work of superior magic, craftsmanship, and intense worship, while the Hermes Tablet, as well as the Scythe of Cronus, were manifestations of the realms being worshipped—gifts from the gods, as it were. Do you remember what I told you about your mother’s emo ball after it was destroyed?”

  I pulled the glass orb from my pocket. The glowing mist inside shifted, filling me with her love.

  “This is an object, but because my mother created it in a thought realm, it still exists there as pure Form. If it were to break again, another could be created from that Form.” The emo ball dimmed slightly as I understood what Arianna was telling me. “The same’s true of the Scythe of Cronus?”

  “And the Hermes Tablet,” she confirmed. “They’re objects—powerful objects—but they came from Forms that still exist in their original realms.”

  Which meant the Scythe of Cronus could reappear. I remembered the giant shadow that had appeared opposite me the moment before the scythe’s destruction. In that moment, I’d felt its prodigious hunger and hatred for humans.

  My hand trembled as I replaced the emo ball in my pocket.

  “The Hermes Tablet came into being at the height of Attican worship for the god,” she explained. “When the Atticans became persecuted, they sealed the Tablet inside the box and hid it in
the shadow realm, planning to recover it when the danger passed. But they were executed. Robbers found it some centuries later. Aggressive attempts to open the box led to death, and it was especially reactive to magical presences.” As she said this, I recalled my battle with the guardians in the landfill and at Track 61. “The box was lost and found and bought and sold many times,” she continued, “finally ending up in a private collection in the shadow version of this city, where it called to Sven. I see this all from what you’ve reported as well as from the residue that still clings to you.”

  “Does the Scythe of Cronus have a similar story?” I asked.

  “No. It simply manifested.”

  “How?”

  “It’s hard to say without the object, which you were right to destroy, but we believe Cronus has an ally, another god probably. This god not only forged the scythe from its original Form, but also the shifter guardian, whose preferred shapes were the monstrous children of Typhon and Echidna.”

  “We may be dealing with a potion-maker too,” I said, thinking of the bonding and debilitation potions Eldred had used.

  “The Order is assigning you this case, Everson. Your best resource may be the Hermes Tablet. Its essence is determined to prevent Cronus’s return. But don’t compel it to speak, and certainly don’t attempt to force the lid. What’s inside can no longer be looked upon with mortal eyes. Let it talk to you, when and where it chooses. Remember, you’re dealing with a god essence, and they’re often capricious. Few more than Hermes.”

  I’d been surprised the Order hadn’t taken the box, as they’d done with other powerful objects in the past, but they had their reasons. I thought about the Tablet’s attachment to Sven. Though it had relaxed its hold following the destruction of the scythe, I was still concerned for the young man.

  “Is it safe with Sven and he with it?”

  “It’s chosen him,” she said. “This we mustn’t question. And through him, it’s also chosen you. While the Tablet is in his possession, I expect you to guide and watch over him.”

  It sounded as if I’d be getting a student in Sven after all, which was fine. He’d grown on me.

  “I did some reading this past week,” I said. “With the decline of Greek civilization and the rise of Rome, the god Hermes became Mercury, of course. But what I hadn’t known was that with the later rise of Catholicism, Mercury was briefly identified with Saint Michael, the line from which my magic comes.”

  Arianna nodded sagely. “The protective symbols on the box repelled you, as they were designed to, but the tablet inside sensed a kindred spirit, perhaps because both of your parents had strong lines to the First Saint Michael.”

  “You don’t think this is over,” I said more than asked.

  “The forces of Cronus have been thwarted, but whatever is to come straddles the shadow realm. I can’t see clearly enough to say one way or the other.

  With the future uncertain, the Doideag’s prophecy suddenly felt heavy in my mind.

  “A soothsayer predicted a lot of what happened,” I said. “But she also said that if war came, I should, quote, ‘allies gather eleven and one, and be not afraid of thine own blood.’ Any idea what that means?”

  “Did your magic lead you to this soothsayer?” she asked, knowing full well I was referring to a hideous Doideag.

  “I think so.”

  “Then I would first note the ‘if’ in her prophecy. This suggests it may never come to pass. And if it does, you have a solution in the subsequent words, one that will become evident when the time arrives.”

  “She also said ‘come night’s fall, accept your death.’”

  As I spoke the line, it felt especially dire. I thought of my wife and Tony and our future daughter.

  Arianna stopped and placed her vein-lined hands on my shoulders.

  “Everson, even in your gravest hour, your magic will never mislead you.”

  Her eyes glimmered with something. Hope? Sadness? But I nodded. They were the words I needed to hear.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  40

  The mayor’s Concert on the South Lawn went forward that weekend, and Bree-yark drove Vega, Tony, and me to Central Park. It was a sunny Saturday in mid-June, not too hot, with a pleasant breeze blowing through the trees. Several thousand people turned out, most of them concentrated around the new bandshell, where a rock group was jamming.

  We chose a place on the far edge of the lawn to spare Bree-yark’s sensitive ears. Tony spotted a kids’ soccer game and ran over to join in. As Vega and I spread out a blanket, it seemed impossible we’d battled a goblin brigade here just a couple years earlier and barely escaped a napalm drop.

  “Oh, look,” she said. “It’s Mae.”

  Bree-yark started and followed her pointed finger. Sure enough, Mae Johnson was crossing the lawn toward us with her pet carrier in one hand and a large wicker basket in the other.

  “You ambushed me,” Bree-yark said.

  “It’s just a picnic, no pressure.” I clapped his back. “Why don’t you go give her a hand?”

  His eyes brightened in alarm, but the squalling of a guitar solo replaced the panic with ear-flattening irritation. Grumbling that he should have known what we were up to, he hustled over to meet her.

  “Think he’ll forgive us?” Vega asked.

  “Depends on how many times he passes out.”

  She peered past me. “Well, would you look at that?” she said with a strange smile. “It’s my partner.”

  When I turned to find Hoffman ambling over, I knew I’d been ambushed. He appeared considerably better than the last time I’d seen him. In fact, he had an almost calm look about him, thanks in part to his attire. He was wearing a fishing T-shirt, baggy cargo shorts, and a flipflop opposite his ortho boot.

  “Hey, guys.” He nodded at Vega before fixing his gaze on me. The bags under his eyes had retreated back into his face, leaving only faint smudges. “I realized I, um, never thanked you for your help on the case.”

  My wife had apparently realized that too. She stood to one side with her arms crossed, watching to ensure her detective partner did the deed properly. Hoffman glanced over as he extended his hand. When I accepted his shake, his emotions seemed to take over. He pulled me into an awkward hug.

  “I’m not good at these things, Croft,” he whispered harshly. “But you did save my ass.”

  “It was a bit of a winding road,” I managed inside his strong embrace, “but we got there eventually.”

  He chortled and jerked me hard against him. “I owe you, buddy.”

  Something told me he’d forget the promise the next time we butted heads, but I’d take it for now. I patted his broad back.

  “Hey, I want you to meet my family,” he said as we separated.

  A middle-aged woman with dark hair and two boys had hung back, and he waved them forward now. The boys looked about ten and eight, their thick builds and curly brown hair marking them as Hoffman’s brood.

  “This is my wife, Kay,” he said of the surprisingly pretty woman. “And my boys, Joey and Anthony.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Kay said in a strong New York accent as she handed me a gift-wrapped bottle.

  The boys took my hand shyly, the older one tucking a football under his opposite arm. When Hoffman chuckled and ruffled his hair, I could see how proud he was to be a father. I also understood the fear I’d seen on his face when he’d pulled me aside in Bear’s apartment. He’d needed to keep his job not only for his sake, but theirs. I was especially pleased now that I’d been able to help.

  “Why don’t you guys join us?” I said, looking over at where Bree-yark was meeting Mae and taking her large basket. “There’s plenty of food.”

  “Aw, we’d love to,” Hoffman said, “but we’ve got a party to get to at her parents’ place.”

  “It’s their fiftieth wedding anniversary,” Kay explained, taking her husband’s hand.

  “And I’m in charge of the grill,” he added impo
rtantly.

  “Well, wish them a happy anniversary for us,” I said, Vega echoing the sentiment.

  When the Hoffmans were out of earshot, I said, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “What do you mean?” Vega nudged me. “That came straight from Hoffman’s heart.”

  “Sure it did.”

  I unwrapped the gift and snorted. It was a bottle of Discovery Select. Hoffman grinned over a shoulder and shot me a finger pistol. I wasn’t going to touch the scotch, but I’d find a spot for the bottle in my library. Something to remember our case by. I watched him and his family disappear beyond the crowd.

  “They actually look like a functioning unit,” I remarked.

  “Thanks to Kay,” Vega said. “Hoff lucked out with her big time.”

  “Speaking of families…” I turned to her. “I’ve had a lot of time to think this past week. Even though the box disappearing from the loft ended up being a false alarm, I talked to the building’s owner yesterday. Turns out there’s a basement efficiency he’s taken a couple stabs at fixing up, but at this point he’s willing to sell. I could use it for casting and storing anything that seems even borderline iffy. Who knows, it might even help with my phobia,” I added.

  She smiled. “Whatever you decide is best, I’ll support.”

  Given the concern she’d shown, I’d expected her to be staunchly in favor of the move. “Really?”

  “I may not always understand Everson, the magic-user…” She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “But I trust Everson, the man.”

  “Then I’ll talk with the owner again Monday, see how low I can get him. We’re going to have a little girl who’ll be able to shoot up and down that ladder before we know it. Best if we have something set up well in advance.”

  “See?” she said, telling me I’d given the right answer.

  Bree-yark returned with Mae’s basket. He still looked distraught, but Mae was chatting away, and by the time the food had been passed around and we were all settled on our blankets, he looked semi-relaxed. Until we heard a familiar voice…