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

a mortal supplier, there would have been ways to get the info from them, possibly nothing more than my wizard’s voice. But the frigging Gowdies? I sighed. Besides being powerful, the three were nasty as all get out. They made the Gray Sisters from mythology look like the Golden Girls.

“In my novice years of magic-using,” I said, “when I didn’t know any better, I went to their place looking for a rare root. I still have nightmares.”

“Did they threaten you or something?”

“Let’s just leave it at ‘or something.’” I didn’t care to revisit the episode.

When Bree-yark fell silent, I looked over to find him eyeing the scattered bristles on his head in the Hummer’s side mirror. “This is actually a half decent cut,” he remarked. “And to think it cures heartbreak.”

“Between that and your nails, you’ve got relationships covered.”

“Ha, ha,” he deadpanned, stepping back from the mirror. “So, what’s the plan?”

I was blowing out my breath when someone exclaimed, “Boys?”

Down the crowded sidewalk, a colorful parasol bobbed toward us. A familiar nose protruded from its shade.

“Speaking of hags,” I muttered at the same time Bree-yark said, “What’s she doing here?”

Gretchen arrived in front of us, fanning her face with a gloved hand. She was wearing a flowing kaftan dress, and her face looked way too cheerful. “There you are!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your world tour?” I asked.

“Yes, well, it’s been postponed.”

“Really. What a shame.”

As I’d suspected, there had never been any trip. The whole thing had been a ruse to stoke Bree-yark’s jealousy. Having gotten a reaction yesterday, Gretchen was here to push her advantage, but I’d be damned if I was going to allow her another fainting goblin.

“Well, great seeing you,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”

“Well, duh. Why do you think I tracked you down? The Order wants me to assist on your case.”

I stopped and turned. “You’re going to assist?”

She nodded agreeably.

“On my case?”

“Did a bird poop on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve never willingly helped me on any of my cases ever.”

“Oh, pshaw.” She looked over at Bree-yark. “He’s always exaggerating.”

Bree-yark grunted noncommittally. I could only imagine his discomfort, but I was revisiting my conversation with Claudius from earlier. When he told me someone would be in touch had he meant Gretchen?

“So, how are you going to help?” I asked, testing her.

“For starters, I have some news on the box.” She began digging inside her handbag, but it was too awkward with the parasol. “Here, make yourself useful,” she snapped, handing me the frilly thing. As I took it, she produced a smartphone and began thumbing the screen clumsily. I’d never seen her use one and suspected she’d bought it as a trendy accessory. Confirming my hunch, she scowled and threw the phone back in her bag.

“The markings on the lid are from an ancient cult in Attica,” she said impatiently. “They were devoted to the worship of Hermes.”

“The Greek god?”

“Well, I don’t mean the little fellow who turns tricks on Forty-second. And you were right—some of the glyphs were designed to animate available material into a guardian. So there’s your garbage monster.”

“Any clues as to what was inside?”

“Hold your crackers. I have my suspicions, but it could be any number of scripts or old relics. It would’ve helped if you’d been able to hold onto the thing. I’m still trying to figure out how you let someone snatch it from under your nose.” She was becoming the Gretchen I knew and dreaded, but I turned hopeful.

“Any leads?”

“Well, I took a trip to your lab this morning.”

“Funny, I didn’t get a call that you were coming.”

“Don’t worry, no one was home.” That wasn’t the point, but I let it pass. “Well, except for your cat. Moody thing. Anyway, your defenses could use some work, but those don’t appear to have been the problem.”

“No?” I asked, confused.

“There were no breaches.”

“How is that possible?”

She shrugged. “Beats the stuffing out of me. When we find who took it, we can ask them. I’d sure like to know.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” I said. “We have a lead, but it takes us through Gowdie’s Antiques. I could use your help with them.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but…” She peered around and cried, “Yoo-hoo!”

I followed her fluttering fingers to a large man across the street. He was dressed in an Italian suit tailored to show off his broad shoulders and trim waist. A fedora hat shaded his face. When Gretchen waved for him to come over, he lifted the half dozen shopping bags in each hand to indicate his load.

She giggled. “Enzo insisted on buying me gifts while we were down here.”

“That’s Enzo?” I asked.

“Well, I better get going. We have a reservation for lunch. At Le Bernardin,” she added, glancing down at Bree-yark. “I’ll be in touch.”

She reclaimed her parasol, air-kissed my cheeks and then Bree-yark’s, and pranced across the street, nearly getting leveled by a taxi. Seeming to remember something, she returned, barely avoiding death a second time.

“Arianna was sorry she couldn’t come herself,” she said, “but she wanted me to remind you to listen to your magic. She has a lot more faith in you than I do.”

She peered over at Bree-yark as if to gauge his reaction a second time before hustling off. Safely across the street, she took her man’s arm, and they disappeared into the crowd beneath the bobbing parasol.

Bree-yark squinted after them.

“Well, that wasn’t weird or anything,” I said, trying to chuckle it off.

But Bree-yark didn’t appear to want to talk about it. He gave his haircut a final critical look in the mirror and turned to me.

“So, what’s the call?” he asked.

What choice did we have?

“Gowdie’s,” I muttered.

15

The sisters’ antique store was located in the tidal wetlands on Long Island. Bree-yark pulled into a gravel lot facing a collection of ramshackle buildings on wooden stilts and connected by boardwalks.

“Place reeks,” he remarked.

“Probably as much from the