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

My hand trembled as I replaced the emo ball in my pocket.

“The Hermes Tablet came into being at the height of Attican worship for the god,” she explained. “When the Atticans became persecuted, they sealed the Tablet inside the box and hid it in the shadow realm, planning to recover it when the danger passed. But they were executed. Robbers found it some centuries later. Aggressive attempts to open the box led to death, and it was especially reactive to magical presences.” As she said this, I recalled my battle with the guardians in the landfill and at Track 61. “The box was lost and found and bought and sold many times,” she continued, “finally ending up in a private collection in the shadow version of this city, where it called to Sven. I see this all from what you’ve reported as well as from the residue that still clings to you.”

“Does the Scythe of Cronus have a similar story?” I asked.

“No. It simply manifested.”

“How?”

“It’s hard to say without the object, which you were right to destroy, but we believe Cronus has an ally, another god probably. This god not only forged the scythe from its original Form, but also the shifter guardian, whose preferred shapes were the monstrous children of Typhon and Echidna.”

“We may be dealing with a potion-maker too,” I said, thinking of the bonding and debilitation potions Eldred had used.

“The Order is assigning you this case, Everson. Your best resource may be the Hermes Tablet. Its essence is determined to prevent Cronus’s return. But don’t compel it to speak, and certainly don’t attempt to force the lid. What’s inside can no longer be looked upon with mortal eyes. Let it talk to you, when and where it chooses. Remember, you’re dealing with a god essence, and they’re often capricious. Few more than Hermes.”

I’d been surprised the Order hadn’t taken the box, as they’d done with other powerful objects in the past, but they had their reasons. I thought about the Tablet’s attachment to Sven. Though it had relaxed its hold following the destruction of the scythe, I was still concerned for the young man.

“Is it safe with Sven and he with it?”

“It’s chosen him,” she said. “This we mustn’t question. And through him, it’s also chosen you. While the Tablet is in his possession, I expect you to guide and watch over him.”

It sounded as if I’d be getting a student in Sven after all, which was fine. He’d grown on me.

“I did some reading this past week,” I said. “With the decline of Greek civilization and the rise of Rome, the god Hermes became Mercury, of course. But what I hadn’t known was that with the later rise of Catholicism, Mercury was briefly identified with Saint Michael, the line from which my magic comes.”

Arianna nodded sagely. “The protective symbols on the box repelled you, as they were designed to, but the tablet inside sensed a kindred spirit, perhaps because both of your parents had strong lines to the First Saint Michael.”

“You don’t think this is over,” I said more than asked.

“The forces of Cronus have been thwarted, but whatever is to come straddles the shadow realm. I can’t see clearly enough to say one way or the other.

With the future uncertain, the Doideag’s prophecy suddenly felt heavy in my mind.

“A soothsayer predicted a lot of what happened,” I said. “But she also said that if war came, I should, quote, ‘allies gather eleven and one, and be not afraid of thine own blood.’ Any idea what that means?”

“Did your magic lead you to this soothsayer?” she asked, knowing full well I was referring to a hideous Doideag.

“I think so.”

“Then I would first note the ‘if’ in her prophecy. This suggests it may never come to pass. And if it does, you have a solution in the subsequent words, one that will become evident when the time arrives.”

“She also said ‘come night’s fall, accept your death.’”

As I spoke the line, it felt especially dire. I thought of my wife and Tony and our future daughter.

Arianna stopped and placed her vein-lined hands on my shoulders.

“Everson, even in your gravest hour, your magic will never mislead you.”

Her eyes glimmered with something. Hope? Sadness? But I nodded. They were the words I needed to hear.

“I’ll remember that.”

40

The mayor’s Concert on the South Lawn went forward that weekend, and Bree-yark drove Vega, Tony, and me to Central Park. It was a sunny Saturday in mid-June, not too hot, with a pleasant breeze blowing through the trees. Several thousand people turned out, most of them concentrated around the new bandshell, where a rock group was jamming.

We chose a place on the far edge of the lawn to spare Bree-yark’s sensitive ears. Tony spotted a kids’ soccer game and ran over to join in. As Vega and I spread out a blanket, it seemed impossible we’d battled a goblin brigade here just a couple years earlier and barely escaped a napalm drop.

“Oh, look,” she said. “It’s Mae.”

Bree-yark started and followed her pointed finger. Sure enough, Mae Johnson was crossing the lawn toward us with her pet carrier in one hand and a large wicker basket in the other.

“You ambushed me,” Bree-yark said.

“It’s just a picnic, no pressure.” I clapped his back. “Why don’t you go give her a hand?”

His eyes brightened in alarm, but the squalling of a guitar solo replaced the panic with ear-flattening irritation. Grumbling that he should have known what we were up to, he hustled over to meet her.

“Think he’ll forgive us?” Vega asked.

“Depends on how many times he passes out.”

She peered past me. “Well, would you look at that?” she said with a strange smile. “It’s my partner.”

When I turned to find Hoffman ambling over, I knew I’d been ambushed. He appeared considerably better than the last time I’d seen him. In fact, he had an almost calm look about him, thanks in part to his attire. He was wearing