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

store’s socked-in register. Behind it, a late middle-aged man with jet-black hair was counting out money, his collarless shirt buttoned to the chin.

“Hey, Mr. Han,” I said. “Been awhile. How are you?”

I’d been a little nervous about coming here. On my last visit, the year before, I’d triggered a smoke golem, and the ensuing battle had destroyed half his shop. I could still see burn marks along the ceiling.

But Mr. Han gave his standard response. “Oh, you know, just chilling out.” He finished counting the money, tapped it into neat stacks, and placed the stacks in the register drawer. “How can help you? Have special on blue beetle dung today. Five dollar for five nugget. Vacuum packed. Very, very fresh.”

“I might take a look at that. Oh, this is my friend, Bree-yark.”

“I hope he is not here to rent room.”

The last friend of mine to have rented the room above the shop was Jason, also known as the Blue Wolf, and it ended up trashed and bloodied. “No, Bree-yark’s just keeping me company while I run errands.”

Mr. Han glanced up, then did a double take. “Ahh. He is goblin, yes?”

“Born and bred,” Bree-yark snarled. He turned from the blowfish sac he’d been prodding and pushed up his sleeves. “Got a problem with that?”

My hand met his heaving chest. “Calm as a clam, remember?”

“No problem,” Mr. Han said. “Just want to know if you are selling ears.”

“My ears?”

“I pay top dollar.”

“Is that all my kind is to you?” he roared. “Something you can hack parts off of whenever it suits your bottom line?”

“You misunderstood him,” I grunted, struggling to restrain his compact body. “He said hairs, not ears.”

“Yes, yes, your hears,” Mr. Han said, putting more emphasis on the h this time. “They are very good medicine for, how you say, the heartbreaking?”

“Oh.” Bree-yark stopped. “So… how much we talking?” He smoothed the thin strands atop his head as if readying them for market.

As the two began negotiating, I took a basket and made a quick circuit of the shop, picking out ingredients I was low on as well as several for spells I might need. By the time I returned to the register, Mr. Han was placing Bree-yark’s hairs in an envelope and Bree-yark was flipping through a sheaf of small bills.

“How come you never told me about this place?” he asked, smiling with his sharp teeth. “It’s a frigging gold mine.”

“Best prices in city too,” Mr. Han put in.

As he began ringing up my items, I said, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where someone can get red tanzanite, do you?”

“Why want red tanzanite?”

I had to be careful. Though you wouldn’t have known it to look at him, Mr. Han was connected to various illicit enterprises in the city. The Chinatown mafia, for one. Not only did Mr. Han pay the boss, Bashi, a protection tax, but his son had gotten involved with his White Hand enforcers. Mr. Han also dealt in specialty weapons and ammo, not all of them street legal. Meaning he was tied into at least one, but probably several, underground suppliers. That was all to say there were things that Mr. Han couldn’t disclose, whether for personal safety or his own personal code, probably both.

“I’m not looking to buy,” I said. “I actually—”

“Ninety-two dollar, forty-eight cents,” he declared.

“Oh, the bill.” I paid him in cash. He took his time counting out the change and placing my items into a paper bag, which he folded over neatly. “So, about that tanzanite,” I said. “There are certain spells that only red tanzanite can power, and I guess I’m looking for a place I can score some in an emergency.”

“I don’t understand you,” he said.

“No?”

“Not with all that bullshit in your mouth.”

Bree-yark laughed, prompting Mr. Han to slide him a smile.

“It is no problem, Mr. Croft,” he said, releasing a hearty laugh himself now. “You want tanzanite, I get it for you. Four hundred dollar, one ounce.”

Damn, he wasn’t going to give up the supplier.

“Listen,” Bree-yark cut in. “Someone tried to blow Everson to shit this morning, and the main ingredient was red tanzanite. We just want to know where the jerkoff got it so we can find and stomp him to a pulp. That’s all. The supplier’s not gonna be in any trouble, and neither are you. Our lips are sealed. Aren’t they, Everson?”

I looked from him to Mr. Han in horror. The man’s face had gone blank. What he was thinking, I couldn’t begin to guess. I’d never been that blunt about his criminal connections. I braced for him to throw us out of his shop, maybe even order us to never come back.

“I tell you for goblin nails,” he said suddenly.

“Bree-yark’s fingernails?” I asked to be sure I’d heard right. “I don’t know…”

“It’s cool,” Bree-yark said, then whispered to me, “I’m actually overdue a trim.”

Mr. Han disappeared behind a curtain and reappeared with a pair of guillotine clippers. I watched to make sure he was only removing the ends of the spike-shaped talons and not the entire things.

“So what miracle cure are these used for?” Bree-yark asked proudly as Mr. Han placed each nail carefully into a bag.

“Very good for, how you say, the genital itching?”

Bree-yark’s ears sagged. “Are they ground into a salve or something?”

“No, no. I glue them to stick.”

Bree-yark’s ears drooped further as he looked over his remaining nails. “Hear that, Everson? These are going to be scratching someone’s junk.”

When Mr. Han finished, he placed the clippers and bag of clippings into a fanny pack, then lowered his head. I instinctively did the same. Bree-yark shuffled forward until our brows were nearly touching.

“One place in city have red tanzanite,” Mr. Han whispered. “Gowdie’s.”

“That’s the only place?” I asked from our huddle. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, only place.”

“Crap,” I muttered.

14

“What’s the problem?” Bree-yark asked as we returned outside.

“Gowdie’s is an antique store owned by three sisters. Three hag sisters.”

“Fae hags?” When I nodded, he said, “Crap is right, then.”

Had we been dealing with