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

Ganesh was stomping the downed hydra with his massive feet. Under different circumstances, I would have loved a ringside seat, but I still had a scythe to destroy.

I plunged it into the vat once more and drove elemental fire into the potion. The enchantment-busting magic took up where it left off, crowding the scythe. As before, the scythe fought back. It was pulling in all of the available energy—the ritual, the offerings, the god seed in the 7Rb variant, even Eldred’s expelling shadow spirit.

I tapped into my own reserves, down to marrow and molecule, pushing it all through the fire rune. My blade went molten, and a shimmering white line grew along its length. The handle turned hot, unbearably so. The sweat pouring from my body evaporated into plumes. My palms began to blister.

But still I gripped, still I upped the heat.

Wage, young mage, till your final breath…

Whether it was an effect of the exertion and torrid heat, I suddenly perceived a massive, wavering shadow looming opposite me. It reached down as if to claim the scythe. I gave a final gut-churning push, and the threads of magic that had been swarming the scythe disappeared inside it. The weapon trembled.

I broke off the fire and, backpedaling, shouted, “Protezione!”

A wall of hardened air rose around the vat an instant before the scythe erupted, sending the boiling potion everywhere. I landed hard on my back, hands throbbing, steam coming off me. By the time I sat up, the large shadow figure was gone, the basement was back, and the Scythe of Cronus was no more.

I looked over as the elephant god shrank back inside the pin. The hydra had vanished along with everything else.

Vega was still down, but she’d suffered no further harm. I rose on unsteady legs, feeling as if I could sleep for a week. I stepped over Eldred’s partly decapitated body to check on Ludvig. My healing magic had shrunk the hole in his neck, and his breathing was even. With medical attention, he would recover.

I was staggering toward Vega when a shadowy figure appeared in front of me.

I stiffened and drew my sword back before allowing it to sag to my side. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait outside.”

But even as I scolded Sven, I was damned glad to see him.

“I was compelled by Hermes,” he said, hooking his thumb at his pack. He looked around at the carnage. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s done, though.”

“Ready to go back?” he asked.

“Just about.”

I completed my journey to Vega and knelt beside her. Her shoulder was torn up and she’d suffered a solid blow to the head. With my final vestiges of magic, I covered both in healing light, then watched as the tension in her brow softened and her eyes stopped shifting behind her lids. She’d be all right too.

Grunted commands sounded from the temple room above us.

“Officer down!” I called.

I removed the pin from Vega’s lapel and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Boots sounded on the steps as I returned to Sven.

“Let’s go,” I said.

39

The burns on my hands healed over the next couple days, but recovering from my exhaustion took longer. Overwhelming the Scythe of Cronus had taken even more energy than I’d realized, and it was all I could do to get out of bed.

Snodgrass balked at the extra week off, but a call from Vega to his wife brought him around quickly. In fact, he ended up subbing my courses, deciphering what he could from the burnt and water-damaged lesson plans Sven had written.

I would’ve given anything to have been there.

I received a number of calls during my convalescence. The first was from Mayor “Budge” Lowder. Political animal or not, he always gave credit where due. At the same time, he was never particularly sentimental.

“Did you see the bond markets this morning?” he effused. “New York municipals are soaring!” Not only had he been able to announce the killer’s death, he was also in talks with Bear Goldburn’s replacement at Ramsa Inc. to go forward with the chip plant in Brooklyn, and he was negotiating with another major developer to take over the projects the late Robert Strock had been slated to complete.

“My favorite wizard,” he finished with a contented sigh. “I knew I could count on you. So, when can I get you in front of the cameras? How about a weekend presser? I want the city to know who to thank.”

Having learned my lesson from his eradication campaign, I said, “Actually, better they don’t.”

I also received a call from Vince Cole, the lawyer. He thanked me for bringing his friend’s killer to justice. He also wanted me to know he was dropping his lawsuit against the NYPD. But he surprised me with his next question.

“What can I do for you?”

My answer was to explain Ludvig’s situation. With his shadow safe and the potion out of his system, he was recovering. But because he’d confessed to the thefts of his great grandfather’s possessions, he remained in custody. Cole agreed to take his case pro bono and assured me that not only would he get him released, but that by the time they were done, every last item would be legally his.

Not long after, Bear’s wife called, tearful, but grateful. In the course of our conversation, I learned that she’d been concerned over his sudden aggression. Vince had noticed too. Believing drugs involved, they’d been planning an intervention—that’s why they’d been communicating behind his back. Neither one had known about the trials to enhance his explorer gene.

The woman who had, Sunita Sharma, visited me the next day, and I was able to return her Ganesh pin. She listened, stunned, as I described how the elephant god had sprung forth to confront and ultimately stomp the shifter, sparing shadow Vega and allowing me to focus on Eldred. When she replaced the pin on the shoulder of her sari, I believe she did so with newfound reverence for the