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

it this way,” Budge said, buddy-buddy again. “You’ve got one friend who came up with the idea for the program and another who insisted on you being a part of it. Both of them are drop-dead gorgeous to boot,” he added with a laugh. “How can you say no to that?”

“Just shut up for a minute.”

I massaged my closed eyes. I had to think, but the only thing striking through was Budge’s threat to use the media to turn public opinion against me. And with the city’s growing bloodlust for nasty supernaturals, I’d be a walking target. Unless, of course, I aligned with Arnaud or took up Caroline’s offer to hide in her world. Both nonstarters.

“Fine,” I said, opening my eyes. “I’ll stay in the program.”

At least until I can figure out something else, I thought.

“You’re making the right decision.”

“But on one condition,” I added.

“What’s that?”

I picked up the cape from the coffee table and wiped my brow, smearing copper makeup over the fabric. I moved on to my nose, cheeks, and finally my lips and jaw before tossing the soiled cape onto the mayor’s desk.

“Keep me out of your damned press conferences.”

16

“When in Diablo’s name is someone coming to fix the air conditioner?” Tabitha asked, sauntering into my lab and hopping onto the table.

“We’re still on the waiting list,” I answered distractedly, motioning for her to move away from the casting circle. I squinted at the circle from another angle and added more silver filings to the far side.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she said.

I had returned to the apartment, relieved to find Tabitha fast asleep in front of the box fan, her belly swollen from the tuna steak I’d set out for her earlier. Now I regretted not spiking her lunch with Xanax.

“If not this weekend then next, all right?” I said with a sigh. “The brownout fried a ton of AC systems in the neighborhood. Now can you leave me alone? I have something important to do.”

Tabitha made a dramatic noise and plopped down at the end of the table. Shed hair blew off in tufts around her. “Have you given any more thought to Caroline’s offer?”

“No,” I said thinly, picking strands of orange hair from the casting circle.

“Just think. We could be in that wonderful realm right now instead of melting in this hell hole.”

I ignored her, my eyes moving between the casting circle and an illustration in the book I’d propped open. The book was a crumbling tome that protected a caster against powerful demonic attacks. Not knowing the origin of the sulfurous residue Hoffman had given me, I couldn’t afford to take any chances. The casting circle featured two concentric circles with extra sigils of protection. I stooped and fixed a blemish in the outer circle.

Tabitha made a scoffing sound. “Men and their wounded egos.”

She was still talking about Caroline. I bristled. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my ego.”

“Ooh. Touchy, touchy.”

“Just let it go,” I said. “I need to concentrate.”

“You saw her today, didn’t you?”

I glanced over, in spite of myself. “What makes you say that?”

“I know that hot and bothered look.”

“I saw her briefly,” I admitted, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Tabitha. I should have known better.

“I told you she’s trying to get up close and personal.”

“It was a chance encounter outside City Hall,” I said. “She was leaving a meeting with the mayor as I was arriving.”

“And what did she say?”

“Same old, same old.”

Even as I waved a dismissive hand, Caroline’s warnings continued to echo in my head. You’re standing on a precipice, Everson. And it’s crumbling. As one of the chief architects of Budge’s reelection campaign, she was seeing something that I couldn’t. But what?

“Hmm. Perhaps I was wrong,” Tabitha said in a musing voice.

“About what?”

“While I wouldn’t put it past her to claim you were in danger in order to get closer to you…”

“You don’t even know her.”

“…her persistence in the face of so hopeless a case makes me wonder now.” Tabitha propped her chin on a curled paw. “Perhaps you should take her at her word. You might actually be in danger.”

“We’re not going to the faerie buffet.”

“It’s not about food,” she said, then added, “not entirely.”

I met Tabitha’s gaze. Was my cat right? Was refusing to listen to Caroline my way of retaliating for her choosing a life with Angelus and the fae over me? Was I jeopardizing my safety to prove to Caroline that I could take care of myself, that I didn’t need her help?

“All right,” I admitted, “maybe ego has a tiny bit to do with this, but it’s not the whole story.” I lifted my satchel onto the table and pulled out the evidence bag with the cat hair. “I need to stay here to figure out the whos and whys of Lady Bastet’s murder. The answer might not only have implications for me, but also Detective Vega.” I was still puzzling over Vega recommending me for the eradication team. Had it been to protect me, as the mayor suggested?

“Well, the whos are the wolves, correct?” Tabitha asked.

“Huh?” I said, emerging from my thoughts. “Oh, I’m not so sure. I had a little run-in with them earlier, and they showed impressive restraint. They would rip me to shreds if left to their instincts, but someone’s got a tight hold on their leashes. And they have a hell of a lot more reason to kill me than to kill Lady Bastet.”

“What about the mauled cats?” Tabitha asked.

I considered the mystic’s disabled warding glyphs, the lack of signs of struggle. Finally, I considered the evidence bag in front of me: sulfur lifted from the torn necks of her cats. “I’m starting to think the real killer wanted the murder to look like the work of wolves.”

“What in the world for?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out,” I said. “So either keep quiet or go back to your cat bed.”

Muttering something about crappy ice bags, Tabitha remained in a languid heap on