Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

“Sure,” he muttered as I began centering myself. “Take as long as you need. We have all the freaking time in the world.”

A roar like an incoming surf covered Hoffman’s sarcasm as the astral realm bloomed into view. Colorful streaks crisscrossed the office, while a dull brown halo surrounded Hoffman’s portly figure. At the desk, Bear’s body appeared as a black void—a life recently lost. I focused where his kidneys had been.

Well, that’s interesting…

I had expected to find some lingering sign of a spell or potion’s effect. I moved closer, searching for faint symbols in the skin. Nothing. I moved around the body, prompting Hoffman to grunt and step back.

After another minute, more nothing.

I searched the large office, then embarked on a slow walk through the penthouse. I inspected every nuance of light and color. I was looking for anything at that point: a mini distortion, an odd field, some hint of a breach in the material fabric. But the astral layers acted as if life here had been as mundane as ever.

I clenched my jaw in frustration. Even remote spellwork left some trace of itself, dammit. Was it a case of me growing rusty, or was the perp just that good?

I recentered myself, this time tapping into my magic, which possessed its own intelligence. Gretchen took special pains to point out just how insignificant mine was in comparison. But the truly great magic-users, like my late father, knew this. They gave themselves over to it, even when the magic’s counsel seemed counterintuitive or downright dangerous. Though I had my moments, I’d yet to achieve that level of surrender. And with everything going on in the last month, I’d fallen out of practice.

It took longer than usual, but I soon aligned with my magic’s familiar weight and flow. It was shifting without a seeming purpose. I moved to different points of the main room as if that might improve the signal.

“Anything?” Hoffman asked loudly.

My focus evaporated, along with the astral plane, and the penthouse returned to form.

I was preparing to voice my irritation, but I was facing the wall of framed photos, and the one at eye level—“Arctic Expedition 2020”—arrested me. In it, Bear was standing beside a snow sled loaded with gear and posing with a small team.

“He did extreme shit in his free time,” Hoffman remarked from behind me.

Bear was holding the pole of a flag planted in the snow, but I didn’t recognize the banner. It featured three thick stripes, yellow and blue on each end, and a central white stripe with a line of esoteric symbols.

“What kind of flag is that?”

“The hell should I know?” Hoffman said. “What did you find?”

I took a picture of the photo with my flip phone. By the time Hoffman realized what I’d done, I was already slipping the phone back into a pocket. He looked like he wanted to make an issue of it, but returned to his question.

“What did you find?”

“Vega said he was some sort of VIP?” I asked. “No, listen, this is important.”

Hoffman swore under his breath. “Yeah, CEO of Ramsa Inc., the big tech company.”

“Weren’t they planning to build a production center out in Brooklyn?”

“He and City Hall were thick as thieves on that thing. So guess who’s been blowing up my phone?”

“Mayor Lowder?”

“Boy, you’re good.”

That explained his crankiness. “Did this Goldburn have any enemies?”

“Give me a fucking break, all right? I know how to conduct an investigation.”

“If we’re looking at a murder-for-hire, it would help me to know who might have done the hiring.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enemies? Sure. Every big name in the business. Ramsa has been wiping the floor with them. Then there are the schmoes in his own company who probably wanted his seat. Murder, though?” He made a skeptical face. “The only real person of interest right now is his wife. They separated a couple months ago, that’s how come he’s living here. I don’t know their legal arrangement, but if he had her on a prenup, she may have been looking at a giant goose egg when the divorce went through.”

“So she has him killed before that happens,” I said, finishing the scenario. “Gets a nice payout through his will, assuming he didn’t alter it.”

“Might also explain the alarm system. If the murder happened here and not through some hole”—he said the word as if he were referring to a human orifice—“then the perp would have needed the system’s code to arm it before leaving. She might have known it. Anyway, we’ve got the security footage from the lobby. We’re gonna ID everyone that came and went over the weekend.”

“Just the lobby? What about the floor?”

“No cameras on the floors. Something about privacy. A lot of big shots live in the building, and they’re not keen on having a record of their visitors. Especially the married ones.”

“Has anyone talked to his wife yet?”

Hoffman released a sullen snort. “The second we reached out, she lawyered up. No telling when we’ll get anything useful out of her.”

“Okay, you asked what I found.”

“Yeah?” He looked up expectantly.

“Nothing. But that doesn’t mean a dead end,” I added as he started into more grumbling. “There’s still spellwork I can perform on the body that might give us some clues as to what happened.”

“What kind of spellwork? Like bringing him back from the dead?”

It was something I’d actually considered. I’d performed the spell successfully on my first teacher, Lazlo, during my campaign against the Death Mage. But in his advanced decay, Lazlo suffered in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine, ways I still felt guilty about. Bear would only fare worse.

“A scrying spell,” I answered. “With a few hairs, I may be able to tap into the last moments of his life.”

“How long’s that going to take?”

“I have to teach an afternoon class, but I’ll get started on it right after. I should have something for you by tonight.”

Hoffman muttered a few choice words before