Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) by Brad Magnarella (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

“I’ll be damned,” Blade said.

A rosy light warmed her tilted-back face as though she were watching the sun come up over the Sierra Nevada. The light grew and brightened, suffusing her form until it was simply too beautiful to watch. Vega and I turned away.

“So long, party crasher,” she called as the light receded again.

A parting jab at the night I’d met her, when I was under the influence of Thelonious.

“She’s gone,” Vega said.

I turned back, blinking, to find the holding area empty. I walked over to the cell and peered inside. A faint thread of Arnaud’s vapor lingered where Blade had slain him, its residual malice dwindling and breaking apart.

“So is Arnaud Thorne,” I said, exhaling heavily. “For good.”

With a weary smile, I walked back toward Vega. I was intending to hold her again, to revel in the end of a chapter in our lives. But as I arrived in front of her, I knew I was ready to start the next one.

“I admit, this isn’t how I pictured the moment. In the wake of a grudge match between a revenant and a demon-vampire, and me wearing a silk gown, but…” I dropped to one knee and beamed up at her. “Ricki Serrano Vega, would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

Somewhere, I imagined Mae nodding her approval.

50

6 months later

On the first Saturday in May, we were married in St. Martin’s Cathedral in downtown Manhattan.

Ricki wore an elegant ivory satin gown with thin straps and a v-neckline. I chose a conservative wool suit, Irish brown. We made a nice portrait. Much of the ceremony seemed to speed past, but exchanging vows with her under the stained-glass image of St. Michael was one of the most profound moments of my life. And our kiss following the pronouncement of holy matrimony one of the happiest.

It was made sweeter by the applause of our friends and family who had come, and a touch more sentimental by the absence of those who couldn’t.

We reserved a nice courtyard in Brooklyn for the reception, which was catered by one of Ricki’s cousins. All of her family attended, and as a perfect spring day deepened into blue evening, and hanging lanterns glowed over Mediterranean cypresses, nieces and nephews scattered into a rowdy game of chase.

Tony, our ring bearer, turned to his mother. “Can I?”

“Go ahead,” Vega said. “Just take it into the yard over there.”

He looked at me with expectant eyes.

“What your mother said.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

As he jumped up from the head table, I took Vega’s hand. Her far hand rested over her very pregnant stomach.

“Pretty kicking wedding, huh?” I said.

She smirked. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

The rest of our long table was taken up by members of the wedding party. Tony’s sitter, Camilla, had acted as maid of honor, while Ricki’s oldest brother, Diego, had walked her down the aisle in her late father’s stead. Now, two of her other brothers, Alejandro and Gabe, were laughing about something with their wives, while the youngest of them, Carlos, picked sternly at his plate of flan at the table’s end.

Carlos had been dead set against the wedding and let the family know. Deciding she’d had enough of his shit, Ricki threw down an ultimatum: either shut up and come to the wedding or stay out of our lives for good. He’d come.

“Ugh,” Tabitha grunted. “Is it over yet?”

I’d leashed her to the chair beside me, where she lay slumped on her side affecting a miserable face. Consuming her weight in roasted pork probably had a little to do with it. The rest was just Tabitha.

I grinned. “Still having fun?”

“Wake me up when it’s time to go,” she moaned.

“The dancing starts in twenty and could go all night,” I teased.

Muttering several choice words, she flopped to her other side. I’d placed my father’s sword and mother’s emo ball on the table between us. It may have been my imagination, but the blade seemed to hum with new energy, while the emo ball glowed a little more brightly.

“We did good, Croft,” Vega said.

I looked from her to the small sea of tables, where our guests were chatting over dessert and coffee. We’d accumulated our share of friends and associates over the years. When I thought of the time catch version of me from the recent past and how lonely he’d seemed, I lifted Vega’s hand and kissed it firmly.

“Yes, we did,” I agreed.

The NYPD took up two tables. Vega’s partner, Detective Hoffman, had given us his best at the beginning of the reception. He remarked that we’d chosen well. Though said grudgingly, he sounded like he actually meant it.

Behind them was a table of my fellow professors and their significant others. With the Order back in action and the demon threat stalled, I’d resumed full teaching duties in the spring and freshened up old contacts at the college. I’d even sent an invite to Professor Snodgrass. He would have trashed it, no doubt, but his wife, Miriam, was a fan of mine and the first guest to RSVP.

She was presently holding court at their table. When Snodgrass reached for a carafe of water, she slapped his hand, telling him he was going to spill it, then snapped her fingers for one of the servers. Snodgrass gave me a disconsolate look that said he hoped I’d have better luck with my partner.

One table over sat Caroline and her husband, as well as several members of their fae court. Angelus, who had received emergency healing, looked as handsome and formidable as ever. He was even sporting a freshly grown hand.

Caroline had attempted to send Osgood back to us that day, but the 1776 time catch was locked. In the weeks following my return, gifts had arrived from Faerie, much of it foods that couldn’t be found in our world. The lion’s share ended up in Tabitha’s belly, of course. And when the gifts tapered off, she fell into a mild