Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

I avoided Snodgrass and the bevy of administrators clucking away outside my office and exited through the front doors of the college. I was scanning the busy street for a cab when a Hummer pulled up, the passenger window sliding down. A familiar goblin’s face leaned over the steering wheel.

“Everson!” Bree-yark called.

I hustled to the curb. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I tried calling earlier, but I hit your wife’s number by mistake. She told me what happened. Thought you might need a little backup.”

“I’m just about to run some errands in the city.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Get your scrawny butt in here.”

Despite the immense stress I was under, I smiled. Once Bree-yark got it into his head he had a friend in need, there was no discouraging him. Plus, he was good company. I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” he asked, lurching the large vehicle into traffic.

“I’m headed to Chinatown, but let’s swing by the cleaners first. I need to pick up the coat I dropped off yesterday.”

“You got it. So, a giant fireball, huh?”

“Yeah, helluva way to start the day.” I filled him in on what had happened. The visor on my side was down, and as I talked, my gaze kept returning to the mirror. My right eyebrow had been singed to the roots, along with much of the hair on that side of my head. I pushed the visor back up as I finished.

“Just wait’ll I get my hands on that little punk,” Bree-yark scowled.

“We’ll have to find him first. How are you doing, by the way?”

“Me? Fine.” He glanced over. “Why?”

“We were worried about you yesterday.”

“Oh, that.” He let out an embarrassed laugh. “Just got a little light headed. My electrolytes have been out of whack. Keep meaning to buy some of that Pedialyte. In fact, I think I clipped a coupon the other day…” He reached across me, his short arm coming a foot shy of the glove compartment.

“Bree-yark, it’s me,” I said. “You can talk about it if you want.”

Grunting, he withdrew his arm. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You and Mae?”

He gave me a panicked look. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“Of course not,” I said, relieved he didn’t ask if I’d told anyone. I doubted he knew the rule about cones of silence extending to spouses. He sat back in his seat and squinted over the steering wheel for the next block.

“I don’t know if I’ve got it in me, Everson,” he said at last.

“What, popping the question?”

His arms went rigid as if he were on the verge of a seizure. I moved into position, ready to grab the wheel if he passed out again, but the alarm in his eyes dimmed after another moment, and he raised a hand to show me he was all right. He pounded his chest twice before returning his hand to the wheel.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Popping the question.”

“Why, though? You’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Not with this stuff. In my mind right now I’d rather challenge a wereboar to a pit fight than ask the most wonderful woman on Earth or Faerie to take me as her lawfully wedded. Is that messed up or what?”

“She’s not going to say no.”

“It’s not that. It’s the thought of asking. It builds and builds in my head. I start playing out all these scenarios, what could go wrong. My heart gets to racing, and next thing I know, I’m picking myself up off the floor.”

“There are potions I could prepare, something to take the edge off.”

“But then where would it end? Nah, if I’m going to do this, I need it to be clean, with a clear head. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

“No, I understand.”

“Did you get like this when you asked Ricki?”

“In the leadup I was anxious, yeah. But the moment itself was so spontaneous I forgot about all of that.”

I went back to that moment seven months earlier. I had just returned from defeating Malphas, and Star had just slain the demon-vampire Arnaud Thorne. Except for the fact I’d been in one of Claudius’s silk gowns, or that the room smelled faintly of undead, the moment couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Spontaneous, huh?” Bree-yark said. “Sort of like ripping a bandage from a dried axe gash?”

“Not the analogy I would have gone with, but … sort of?”

“Hmm. That’s not a bad idea, Everson. Not bad at all.”

“The point is to try not to think about it, and when the moment presents itself—”

“Rip!” Bree-yark declared with a triumphant smile.

“Rip,” I agreed.

We picked up my coat from the cleaners, then drove back along Central Park South. After almost two years, Mayor Lowder had finally secured the funding to complete his massive restoration project, and for the first time since its napalming, the park to our left was green with freshly planted trees, sod, and other growing things. The full park wouldn’t be open for another year, but giant banners reminded everyone that the highly anticipated “Concert on the South Lawn” was scheduled for the following weekend.

Budge was determined to prove that New York City was back, baby.

In Chinatown, I called out the turns to Bree-yark, and before long we were pulling up in front of Mr. Han’s Apothecary.

“Feel free to keep the engine running,” I told him. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Everson, there’s a guy out there trying to incinerate you.” He gave the emergency brake a decisive tug. “I’m going in too.”

“All right, but, you know—”

“Control myself? I’m as calm as a clam.”

A sharp tring sounded as I opened the door off the busy sidewalk. Bree-yark followed me into the maze-like shop of shelves packed with tonics, dried insects, and medicinal ingredients, much of it good for spell-casting. My gaze lingered on a bag of lizard tongues. Could actually use some of those.

“That Mr. Croft?” an accented voice asked.

I finished turning the corner until I was facing the