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

down there, whatever they told you, it was with the aim of turning you against the Order. That’s what Whisperer magic does. It takes any doubts you may have and bends them so that their version of the truth seems the only one that can be believed.”

I wanted to trust him, but I steeled myself.

“If I destroyed Lich’s book,” I said, “then how come things are falling apart out there?”

“Falling apart?” He looked around in confusion. “I just came from the city. I got my coordinates mixed up when I returned from the healing plane and ended up on Roosevelt Island.” He chuckled at his own carelessness. “In any case, I didn’t notice anything amiss.”

“So the fires didn’t raise a red flag for you, or the riots, or the mass evacuation?”

“Everson,” he said, pulling one side of his jacket slowly open until I could see his wand in the inside pocket. “I’m going to draw my wand and use it to cast a spell to stop the spreading magic.”

“Try it, and I’ll run you through for real.”

“You’re not making any sense,” he insisted.

“Oh, so that’s it? I’m crazy? Is that the game?”

“Not crazy,” he said. “Under the influence of magic.”

I stared at him, trying to arrange my thoughts into something coherent, but they were slamming around like bumper cars. Everything Connell had told me about my mother, my grandfather … it had all fit. But if what Chicory was saying about Whisperer magic was true, of course it would all fit.

“Lazlo’s dead,” I said suddenly.

“What?” Chicory asked, looking genuinely surprised. “When did this happen?”

“Five years ago.”

“And how do you know this?”

“I went to Romania. I saw his body.”

“Went to Romania?” He looked at me askance.

“Here.” I moved my sword to my staff hand, pulled my flight itinerary from my pocket, and handed it to him. “See for yourself.”

I watched Chicory as he unfolded the piece of paper and moved his gaze down it. At last he nodded and handed it back. “I want you to take another look at this, Everson, and tell me exactly what you see.”

“I already know what’s on here,” I said, snatching it back. “I’ve been carrying it for the last three—”

But when I looked down, it wasn’t the printed flight itinerary from the airport. It was my packing list from when I was about to leave my apartment for the safe house a few weeks earlier. I rechecked my pockets before looking at the packing list again. “What did you do to it?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Chicory said quietly. “The protective energy around the house is charging up again. It must be clearing your mind.”

It was a trick. It had to be. I wasn’t crazy.

I dropped the list, pulled out my wallet, and tossed it to him. “Look inside and you’ll find boarding passes, train tickets. Check out the bills while you’re in there, too. Do you think I just walk around with Romanian currency?” My laugh verged on a mad giggle. I pressed a hand to my sweating upper lip as I watched him.

“The only thing resembling a boarding pass is this,” he said, holding up my New York City transit card. “And your currency is all in U.S. dollars.”

“My passport, then,” I said quickly. “It’s in my pack in the front room. It’ll be stamped.” I started to push past Chicory, then stopped cold. Tabitha had just walked into the room.

“I see we’re a happy household again,” she said dryly.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Why aren’t you at the apartment?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. We’ve been in this pit for almost a month. A month too long, if you ask me.” She parked inside the doorway and combed a licked paw over her right ear.

“I took you back to the apartment four days ago.”

She snorted. “Four days ago you were hardly in the land of the living.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” My temples were beginning to ache.

“Oh, come now, darling. Ever since you got back from that realm, you’ve been practically catatonic. I’ve been doing everything. Fixing our meals, feeding you.” She made a face. “Helping you to the bathroom.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Um, yes,” Tabitha said.

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. Another thought occurred to me. “Detective Vega and I have been in contact. She even gave me back my pager.” I pawed my front pockets, but the bulky device was nowhere to be felt. Impossible. It had been there not forty minutes earlier when she’d paged me. Had I left it in the cab?

“Everson,” Chicory said sharply.

“No,” I backed away from him. “I know what I experienced.”

“Think for a moment,” Chicory said. “Listen to me. This is exactly what Marlow wants—to bias you against us, to turn you against the Order, to harness your powers to his purposes. He had you down there for several days. He convinced you that what he’d told you could be verified up here, correct? He set you free for you to find out. But not before ensuring that the only journey you took would be in here.” He tapped his temple. “A mind he poisoned with Whisperer magic.”

“James,” I nearly shouted. “James Wesson!”

Chicory shook his head. “That means nothing to me.”

“He’s a—a wizard—a member of the Order. Here in New York City. You left his file out so I’d find him, but not before you told him to expect me so that he could stop me from…”

From what, exactly?

“From finding the truth?” Chicory asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. “And if this James failed, and you learned the truth despite his efforts to stop you, the more convincing those truths would appear to you, no?”

I stammered for a moment, then looked over at Tabitha. She looked back at me as though I was suffering a nervous breakdown and couldn’t decide whether that merited pity or scorn.

I sat down hard on the one chair in the room and dug a hand into my hair. Chicory was right. There were two versions of reality: