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

I chafed at the idea of her consulting another magic-user. It felt like betrayal—something I didn’t need any more of in my life. “And what were you going to do with that information?” I challenged. “Stick it in your Wizard Database and look for a match? You’re out of your depth, Vega. You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with.”

“If you’re suggesting you have info,” she said, “you’re obligated to share it.”

I stared back at her. My emotions might have been all over the map, but I knew better than to say anything that would put Vega in the path of a powerful mage. And after what he’d done to my mother, he was my problem.

“Forget it.” I stepped past her.

She seized my arm. “I’m serious, Croft. I already have you on breaking and entering.”

My anger spiked, but I talked it back down, forced myself to relax. When at last I spoke, my voice was calm, quiet. “I understand I have you to thank for getting me a spot on the mayor’s eradication team. For protection, right? I appreciate that. I do. And if you want to continue to keep me at arm’s length, fine. That’s probably being a good mother. But I’m not going to stop pursuing Lady Bastet’s killer. How you deal with that is up to you.”

I drew my arm from her relenting grip and walked from the back room.

“The problem with you, Croft, is I never know who I’m dealing with.”

I turned and found her standing in the back doorway, fists on her hips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“It means that I was ready to put the past behind us—only to find out you’re dealing with Arnaud again.”

“Arnaud? I don’t have a goddamned thing to do with him.”

“Oh yeah? You didn’t meet with one of his at a bar in the West Village last week?”

She was referring to the morning of the mayor’s press conference. That had only been ten or so days ago, but with everything that had transpired since, it felt like ten months. I’d relegated it to the back of my mind. Explains Vega’s ball-breaking stance towards me, though, I thought.

“Who told you that?” I asked.

“That doesn’t sound like a denial.”

I sighed. “It’s not what you think. Meeting with him was part of a deal for him to stay out of my life.”

“Yeah, I know all about your deals.”

Of course she did. The last one had led to her son getting grabbed. I cursed my word choice, but there was way too much going on in my head right now. I needed to leave. I surprised myself by walking back toward her.

“Look,” I said, “Arnaud is always shifting pieces around his little chess board, looking for advantages. It’s how he’s stayed alive this long. But I know his game. I gave him ten minutes of my time. That was all. True to his word, he hasn’t approached me since. And if I know vampires, he won’t.”

Vega was looking at me as though trying to decide what to make of me. In hindsight, agreeing to meet with one of Arnaud’s had been stupid. I glanced past her to the stains on the floor.

“It’s not like I gave him my blood or anyth…” My voice trailed off as a horrifying thought struck me.

“What’s wrong?” Vega asked.

“The blood in the room,” I said, nodding past her. “You had it tested?”

She looked over her shoulder and back at me. “Yeah?”

“Did any of it…” I swallowed. “…belong to me?”

Vega’s brow beetled as she shook her head.

The room seemed to reel as I recalled the mage’s words: I know a lot about you. I own something vital of yours. The black cat that darted out Lady Bastet’s front door hadn’t been wearing an odd collar. It had been holding the clay tube with my blood.

“Shit,” I spat.

18

I spent the next day in my apartment, afraid to leave my protective wards, not even sure they could protect me. The mage who had killed my mother had my blood, and that was bad. Super bad. With it, he could cast all manner of blood magic, up to and including a death spell.

I would be powerless to stop him.

I paced the length of my bookshelves again, eyes jerking from title to title, but I’d already pulled the relevant ones and read through them. They only reaffirmed what I already knew about blood magic.

I was fucked.

I sagged into my padded chair with a hard sigh and eyed the evidence bag beside the books on my desk. The bag held what remained of the cat hair and spell residue—my sole connection to the mage. I had mentally cycled through the spells I was capable of casting, but I was still too junior. None of them would enable me to find the mage or strike him without his knowledge. And if the mage was as adept as he seemed, he probably had a nasty counterspell in waiting.

That left communicating with the Order—and that was where I was stuck.

First, there were the questions. Why didn’t the Order have a record of my mother? Were they trying to hide something? And why hadn’t the Order done anything about her murder? The mage should have been toast. Was he that powerful, or was there something more going on?

Complication number two fell back on my blood. The mage had taken it without my consent, true. But that wouldn’t earn me any pity points with the Order. The fact I had given my blood willingly, to whomever, was what mattered. If the mage used my blood in any kind of black magic, I would be considered just as guilty as he was. In which case, the only way I’d be spared the death penalty was if the mage killed me first.

I massaged my closed eyes, the final moments of my mother’s life flashing behind my swollen lids. The pain, the blasts, the