The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

“Yes, but you should be quick. While the boy sleeps, a little blue vessel on the side of his neck pulsates away. My associates have taken an interest in that conduit of precious fluid. I have control over them, of course. But as that interest turns to real hunger, why, a brief lapse on my part…”

“If he’s hurt,” Vega mumbled, “I will hunt you down myself, and I will kill you.”

“What energy!” Zarko said, laughing. “Yes, take that spirit and rally yourself. I would hate to see you fail at this late stage and with so much at stake. The truth is not as distant as it might seem—especially for you, Detective. Find out who wants the creature dead, and the answer will reveal itself like a magician’s coin.”

In a burst of cold wind, the rear door opened and closed, and the backseat was empty.

I sighed and looked over at Vega, who was fumbling for her smartphone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Hoffman,” she said. “Need to find out who he’s been supplying info to.”

“Wait,” I said, holding out a hand just enough to freeze her display. “Let’s think about this for a minute. If Hoffman knows he’s doing something below board, he’ll deny it. Not only that, he’ll tip off whoever he’s informing. Instead of confronting Hoffman, what if we laid a trap?”

“What kind of trap?”

“We debrief him on the investigation, leaving out the parts about the boarding school and Lady Bastet, of course. Tell him we’re close to knowing the mother’s identity. We’ll put together a file of fake names and contact info—leads you’ll instruct Hoffman to follow up on. Whoever Hoffman’s talking to is going to want that file. We’ll see what Hoffman does with it.”

“Tail him?”

“Even better, I can infuse the file with a hunting spell.”

She nodded weakly. “Fine, but you were right, dammit. I’m not going to make it without some blood.”

“There’s a medical center a few blocks away.”

Vega shook her head and scrolled through the contacts on her smartphone. “No hospitals. I have an EMT friend who owes me a favor.” She tapped a number and activated the speaker. “Larry,” she said when a man’s voice answered. “It’s Detective Vega. You on duty?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he said.

“I’m gonna need an ambulance for an emergency blood transfusion. B positive. One unit should do it. Is there somewhere I can meet you?”

The voice hesitated. “You’re bringing the victim to us?”

“I am the victim.”

“Oh, geez. Yeah, yeah. Where are you now?”

“Near Forty-second and Broadway.”

“Okay, how about in the valet garage across from Grand Central?”

“How soon can you be there?”

“I’m headed there now.” The sound of a siren rose through the speaker.

Vega hung up. “You heard the man.”

The ambulance was already waiting, its rear doors open, when we pulled into the garage. I parked and ran around to Vega’s side before she attempted to stand. A portly man in blue coveralls and with graying hair appeared from the ambulance and jogged up to her other side.

“Christ, kiddo, what in the hell happened to you?”

“Stopped a bullet with my stomach,” Vega said as she staggered between us toward the ambulance. “Thanks to my vest, it wasn’t deep. But I lost some blood. Everson removed the projectile.”

“All right,” Larry said. “While the drip’s going, I’ll stitch up the wound.”

We helped her up into the ambulance, where she collapsed onto a waiting gurney, the interior lights bleaching her remaining color. While Larry busied himself with the IV bags, Vega clutched my coat sleeve.

“This is gonna take about an hour,” she said. “If you need to do something for your friend, go ahead.”

My gaze dropped to the spreading stain in her sweatshirt.

“That’s an order,” she added.

I pulled up a mental map of Manhattan. The fae townhouse was a straight shot north, about thirty blocks. I could be there in under ten.

“You sure?” I asked.

She shoved my arm toward the door. “Go.”

“All right, but…” I patted my coat pockets until I felt the pager in its iron case. “Call if you need me back before then.”

She nodded, then looked down at where Larry was inserting a line into the crook of her left elbow.

I checked my watch: 2:40 a.m. I hopped from the ambulance and jogged to the sedan. As I wheeled the car around, I caught the first droplets of blood filling the tube to Vega’s arm.

“Fifty-nine minutes to find Caroline and make it back,” I whispered.

I sped from the lot.

31

I pulled up a half block from the townhouse and parked. When I squinted, the narrow domicile across the street wobbled into focus for a few seconds before the veil pushed my gaze to the neighboring address. I squinted again. Light glowed from the four ascending windows, which was no surprise. The nighttime enhanced fae magic, and so the fae were more active at night.

Active enough to show their faces outside the townhouse, I hoped.

Without time to cook up a spell, I lacked the ability to break through the threshold. That left a stakeout. As I replaced the silver bullets in my revolver with iron ones, I replayed the sequence of events surrounding Caroline’s disappearance, starting with the gala.

Angelus pursues Caroline and asks to speak with her. She wants nothing to do with him until he mentions her father. While they’re talking, I catch something about “a fair exchange.” I head out with Hoffman to the crime scene, and Caroline and Angelus apparently leave the gala together, Angelus casting a glamour to look like me. The next morning, Moretti’s men come to my apartment, looking for her. That they were hired by Caroline’s father tells me she really is missing. I get the address to the fae townhouse from the night hag, only to be stonewalled by the butler. But he knows where Angelus is, and probably Caroline. Fast forward to the meeting with Lady Bastet and “She’s no longer in this world.”

That Caroline might be in the faerie world was nothing to feel optimistic about,