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

I was surprised to find myself still holding the cane, the current apparently having locked my fingers around it.

“Protezione,” I called as I staggered to my feet.

Energy coursed through my banged-up prism and emerged from the staff’s orb, manifesting a shield. Sparks blew from it as another of James’s bolts struck. The young wizard was pacing toward me, lips set in a determined line. The air around him glimmered with power.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, drawing my sword.

He unleashed another attack, splitting the silver bolt in two. They arced around—much as he’d made the billiard balls do—and slammed into either side of my shield. My protection buckled. A clapping sound landed against my ears, as though they’d been hammered by a pair of open hands, the pain driving to the center of my head.

I stepped back, incanting to maintain my prism. My recent training with Chicory had increased my capacity to cast, but another couple of shots like that and I’d be toast. What was this about, though? The stupid pool game? Or was I dealing with something more sinister?

Need to put him on the defensive.

“Vigore!” I called, swiping my sword in a clumsy arc.

The force caught Chicory’s car and heaved it toward James. With a Word, he manifested a silver light shield and used it to shove the car back into the street. Still backpedaling, I shouted another invocation, this time uprooting a section of chain-link fencing from an adjoining lot. With sharp clangs, the fence whipped around and encircled James.

“Respingere,” he said.

His silver shield flashed, and the fence broke into pieces, his boots crunching over the broken links as he continued his advance. Thanks to his five years of training, the guy’s magic was fundamentally sound. But I had experience on my side, not to mention a sword in which some of Grandpa’s magic-cleaving enchantment still lingered. I’d have to employ the first to get close enough to use the second, though.

“Illuminare,” I called.

The light that pulsed from my shield was meant to blind him, but James had anticipated the Word and countered with a Word of his own, one that intercepted the light with an orb of darkness. Damn. That was the problem with casting in the same language as your opponent.

Two more bolts slammed into my shield, rocking me backward. When I grunted, a smile formed across James’s lips. His confidence was growing. He cast his next bolt from the hip.

As my shield shook and sparks blew across my face, I remembered how James had passed on the easy tap into the side pocket for the win against me earlier, electing instead for a trick shot. Something told me he’d do the same thing out here: go for the spectacular instead of the sure bet.

Deciding to test that theory, I turned and ran.

Behind me, James spoke four Words in rapid succession. Bolts ripped past my shielded body, leaving harsh ozone trails in their wakes. Several blocks ahead they wheeled in different directions, like jets at an air show, before storming back toward me en masse. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know James had thinned his shield to feed the bolts.

I aimed my sword back between my legs. Using a force blast as a propellant, I released my grip and let the sword rip.

Behind me, James let out a scream. The bolts fizzled in midair.

I turned to find his shield shattered, James clutching his shoulder where the blade had gashed him. With another force invocation, I returned the sword to my grip and stalked toward him. His sunglasses had fallen off, and surprised blue eyes stared from his face. He jerked his wand at me several times, but no bolts would emerge. The blade’s enchantment had broken his magic. I kicked the wand out of his hand and touched the blade to his throat.

“You’re oh for two, pal. Care to explain why you attacked me?”

His eyes shifted, as though searching for an escape.

“You can try to get up, but this blade has cut through thicker necks than yours.”

Muttering, he showed his hands.

“Better start talking,” I said. “Fast.”

“Can I at least grab another beer?”

I allowed James his beer, warning him that if he shouted for help or did anything funny, I would force blast him into next month. But he was already injured, his magic spent. I doubted he would test me.

We sat at the dark end of the empty bar, a couple of brown bottles sweating in front of us.

“All right,” I said, the tip of my blade against James’s side. “Mind telling me why you went homicidal on me out there?”

James sighed. “I was warned you might show up.”

“Warned?” Coldness enveloped me. “By whom?”

“Chicory.”

“Chicory? Our Chicory?”

“Yeah, he stopped in a couple weeks ago. Told me to be on the lookout for someone who’d come with a lot of questions. Said the person would be the agent of some evil wizard, a dude named Lich or Lech, and not to let him get away.” James took a swig from his bottle. “And then here you come, driving Chicory’s car. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

I took a sip from my own bottle and worked out the timing. Two weeks before would have been when Chicory was training me. He had ducked out a couple of times, though he’d never said for what. There was nothing about the visit in James’s file, either.

“Were those his exact words?” I asked. “Agent of an evil wizard?”

“Best I can remember. I was sort of stoned when he dropped in.”

I still couldn’t believe this guy was a member of the Order.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Naw, that was pretty much it.”

Had the warning to James been some sort of insurance in case the operation failed and the Front used Whisperer magic on me? Or had it been in case the Front told me the truth?

“To be honest, you don’t strike me as an evil agent,”