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

together would have been roughly two years in the faerie realm. Enough time for Caroline to settle into her marriage, her new life.

“Fine,” I said, aiming a finger at Tabitha. “But the second you say something catty, this conversation’s over.”

She widened her ochre-green eyes as though to say moi?

I sighed and lowered myself to the couch. “Caroline stopped by my classroom today.”

Tabitha grinned at the delicious tidbit, but to her credit, she kept her mouth shut.

“She claimed she came to apologize,” I continued, “and to explain what happened, you know, that night.”

“Oh, I know all about that night,” Tabitha purred, damned feline hearing.

“I mean, I see where she’s coming from.” I stood and began pacing. “She agreed to marry Angelus to save her father, which is admirable. It is. And her new role carries all kinds of responsibilities, not just to her—” I had to swallow hard before I could form the word. “—husband, but to that realm. Responsibilities that, believe me, I understand. But I felt something that night in the way we moved, in the way our magic melded. Something that…”

“Doesn’t happen with just any old gal?” Tabitha asked.

She had one eyebrow arched, but not in sarcasm. It was an honest question. I considered it before collapsing back onto the couch and digging my hands into my sweat-dampened hair.

“Yes,” I said.

Tabitha nodded in what appeared honest understanding. That had to be a first.

“And when we were talking today,” I went on, “I kept getting this feeling that she was holding back. That there was something she wasn’t telling me.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know.”

Tabitha appeared to be thinking as she licked a paw and combed it over an ear. “Well, if you sensed as much, I’m sure the reason will emerge eventually. Will you have occasion to see each other again?”

I stared at Tabitha a moment to make sure she wasn’t mocking me before shaking my head. “Our meeting didn’t end well. Though I do have a standing invitation to the faerie realm. Woop-de-doo.”

“And what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, earlier today the mayor announced a plan to eradicate supernaturals. We’re all right as long as his wife remains comatose, but if she wakes up, Caroline thinks all bets could be off.”

Tabitha scowled. “By wife do you mean that werewolf? I do wish you would have killed her. I never have gotten on with their kind, and living inside a cat’s body doesn’t exactly improve things.”

“Half werewolf,” I corrected her. “And yeah, I’m starting to wish I would’ve finished her off, too. Which reminds me, any sightings today?”

Since my encounter with Penny and her pack, I’d asked Tabitha to be extra vigilant for werewolves. Budge may not have issued a sic-’em order, but the pack was no doubt burning to avenge the attack on their leader and fellow pack members. After four months, nothing, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down. Especially after the day’s developments.

“No, darling, but let’s not get off topic,” she replied, no doubt to steer the conversation from the tours she hadn’t carried out. “How did you reply to Caroline’s invitation?”

“I told her no, of course.”

Tabitha’s lower lip pouted out. “But their realm is rumored to have the most divine delectables. Markets of plump, fresh-caught fish—not the farm-raised trash you buy. Succulent lamb. Goat’s milk so rich it separates into a layer of cream thick enough to eat off the top.” Tabitha’s eyelids fluttered at the imagined foods. “It would be so wonderful, darling.”

“Well, too bad,” I said, “because I’m not going to hang around eating … goat yogurt while Caroline plays princess with Angelus.”

Tabitha tsked as she shook her head.

“What?” I said.

“You clearly don’t understand women. Don’t you see? Caroline is using the excuse of some ill-defined danger to bring you into her world, to be closer to you. It’s an age-old trick.”

Hope flickered inside me. “Really?”

Tabitha darted out her tongue, too late to catch the trickle of saliva dribbling off her chin. I sighed. Her counsel no longer had anything to do with Caroline. She was thinking about the faerie food.

“All right,” I said, slapping my thighs, “we’re done here.”

Tabitha returned from the fantasy, eyes sharpening. “Won’t you even consider the offer?”

“No.” I stood and retrieved my cane from the coat rack.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“To learn about my mother.”

6

Though the sun had just set, the dimming West Village streets continued to radiate late July heat. I hurried down the steps to Lady Bastet’s basement-level business—minutes from learning the fate of my mother—only to find the door locked.

I knocked, waited, and then knocked again, harder.

Still no answer. Must have stepped out.

I was debating whether to wait for her, assuming she would even be back tonight, when something scratched the other side of the door. A cat’s cry followed, the tenor low and strained. Something about it set off an inner alarm. I drew my sword and aimed it at the lock.

“Vigore!” Energy coursed down the blade. The lock trembled and burst. When I pushed the door open, something lithe and black and wearing an odd collar darted past me and up the steps. Crap. I was preparing to retrieve Lady Bastet’s escaped cat, when I picked up a familiar scent.

Blood.

I threw myself against the brick wall beside the door. Using my sword blade, I tested the threshold. The protective glyphs were down. Either Lady Bastet had inactivated them, or a powerful presence had broken through. In readiness for the latter, I summoned a shield of light.

I peeked around the corner—no one inside—and eased into the main room. The lights had been left on. Ahead, one of Lady Bastet’s cats lay on its side, partly hidden behind a colorful hanging rug. In two more steps, I saw that the body was headless, blood pooling near the neck.

“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered, bringing the back of a hand to my mouth.

More cats littered the floor, all decapitated by a ripping force, hair everywhere. One severed head seemed to be watching me, the mouth opened in a frozen