Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) by Brad Magnarella (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

was thinking of the cold iron amulet in Bree-yark’s bouncing pouch when the yellow flames dispersed, and we stopped moving. Bree-yark exhaled a few choice words, while Dropsy looked from side to side dizzily.

Above Arnaud’s head, Caroline opened her eyes, her luminescent gaze meeting mine before peering around. Through the lingering dust of the infernal energy, the stone walls of a room were taking shape. Bookshelves and what appeared to be a large desk stood in the shadows just beyond Dropsy’s glow.

“We’re here,” Caroline announced.

I peered down at my shoes, black leather boots now, alarmed to find them planted in a blood circle. Arnaud had rendered an identical circle in his Manhattan penthouse only days earlier, a portal to Malphas.

“Everyone out,” I whispered, shuffling from the demonic symbol.

“It’s not active,” Caroline said. “The connection’s been broken, and no energy remains.”

“Oh.” I took another look. “You’re right.”

Though the circle served as a terminus for the demonic line, Arnaud was now cut off from his master. The reverse was also true. Without that connection, Malphas’s energy couldn’t access the symbol to trap us or hit us with any number of infernal spells. Bree-yark, whose furrowed brow suggested he had no idea what we were talking about, followed Caroline and Arnaud from the circle.

The heat of embarrassment sank back into my cheeks. Though rushing the journey here had been necessary, there were consequences. One being that beyond basic planning, I hadn’t had time to think deeply. Ever since waking up that morning, it had been go, go, go just to find a way back here.

“We’re alone,” Caroline said.

She’d left off her male glamour, but she’d made adjustments to her attire—all of ours, in fact. Breeches and riding boots showed below the hem of her long cloak. Meanwhile, Arnaud’s robe had become the disheveled attire of a rebel prisoner, his restraints featuring iron components and thick leather straps. Bree-yark looked like a dockworker, a ratty coat over a rough linen shirt and breeches.

I expected to find myself in a similar disguise as the last time, a common man. Instead, I was looking at a red coat over a brass-buttoned shirt and starch-white breeches. A British soldier? But when I took a second look at Arnaud, it made sense. The city was under English control, and he was my prisoner.

“Is it safe to be casting?” I asked Caroline, remembering Osgood’s warning from the last time about magic drawing unwanted attention.

“Malphas already knows someone used an infernal line to arrive here,” she replied. “How he responds is another question.”

I walked toward a pair of arched windows. Stars twinkled beyond the paned glass. A full moon came into view and then its reflection, glistening from a broad river. When I caught the edge of a fort, I nodded.

“We’re near the southern tip of Manhattan,” I said, still not quite believing I was back. “In 1776, Arnaud was using this as a place of business slash fortress.”

I remembered how he’d tried to lure me to this very building while a smiling Zarko—who had turned out to be the present-day Arnaud—grinned at his back. In our final confrontation, the real Arnaud had destroyed his 1776 counterpart, which meant one less worry now. The blood slaves he’d employed as henchmen would have regained their mortality or died. No doubt why the building was empty.

“Place has been ransacked,” Bree-yark said, returning from across the room.

He’d lit several candle stubs, and in their guttering light, I saw what he meant. The drawers of the desk were sticking out like tongues. The bookshelves were barren. And a corner safe was pried open, a mess of papers spilling onto the floor.

I turned to Caroline. “How about we take a few minutes to search what’s here?”

“It could give us some insights into his activities,” she said, completing my thought. “I can start on the safe if you don’t mind tackling the desk.”

“What can I be doing?” Bree-yark asked.

I hesitated a beat before saying, “How about watching Arnaud?”

With an authoritative grunt, Bree-yark took the demon-vampire by an arm, sat him in a corner, and stood over him, blade drawn. Enchanted and bound, Arnaud’s yellow-flecked eyes stared out at nothing. Even so, I couldn’t stop thinking of my promise to Vega about not letting Arnaud from my sight.

“He can’t go anywhere,” Caroline assured me, already crouching before the safe.

My gaze lingered on Arnaud for another moment before I approached the mahogany desk. I spent the next several minutes leafing through papers on the desktop trying to make sense of them. Most were neatly penned financial statements or letters from loan-seekers. The sprouts of Arnaud Thorne’s financial empire.

The drawers had been cleaned out, but a couple of ledgers remained. I removed the thicker of the two and started working backwards from the most recent entries. They listed deposits and withdrawals in various currencies. I swapped it for the other one, which appeared to catalogue commodities purchased. Before long, a block of entries caught my eye. They were for copper-plated panels. I mouthed the dimensions. Six feet by nine. Twelve feet by sixteen. Big copper-plated panels.

“I may have something,” Caroline said.

The sound of her voice beside me made me jump. She spread a parchment over the desktop.

“There were several maps of Manhattan, most demarcating properties,” she said, “but this one is interesting.” I moved the ledger so she could shift the map more fully into the light of the candle. “It shows St. Martin’s.”

Indeed, the professionally drawn map was centered on the site of St. Martin’s Cathedral. The Hudson, which I’d just viewed out the window, was depicted as a series of ripples. But someone had used dark ink to mark the area immediately around the cathedral with vertical and horizontal lines.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

“What is it?” Caroline asked.

“This is how Arnaud was channeling the energy coming from the St. Martin’s site.”

I showed her the ledger entries for the massive plates, copper being only second to silver as a container for energy, but considerably cheaper. I used