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

a dome of light and then grabbed a monogrammed kitchen towel from beside the sink. After sponging the laceration, I pinned the balled-up towel in place with a shoulder. Yeah, this isn’t going to make fighting awkward or anything. I wheeled around in time to see the riddler lash free of the light cage and scrabble behind the fridge.

“Oh, no you didn’t.”

Aiming my sword toward the space between counter and fridge, I cast a low-level force, hoping to push the riddler out the other side, where I had my staff aimed and a shield invocation waiting. A scraping sound told me the riddler was anchoring itself to the condenser tubing in back. Increasing my force only succeeded in shoving the fridge out at an angle.

I sighed. “You’re just not gonna make this easy, are you?”

I sheathed my sword and dug into my jacket pockets. My taboo-magic alarm had sounded after I had already left my apartment, so I was only carrying the bare minimum: a vial of copper filings and a couple of odd items. But what’s this? I pulled out another vial. Ahh, now dragon sand I can use.

I poured a tiny mound into the palm of my hand. More scraping among the fridge’s tubing—and now scrabbling. As the riddler’s finger-like legs wrapped around the side of the fridge, I shouted, “Fuoco!” and gave the granules a hard blow.

Fire spewed from my palm, enveloping the riddler in a dark-red plume that washed around the fridge. The creature recoiled with a cry—a horrid, high-pitched sound, like air being forced through wet flaps of flesh. I backed from the eye-stinging heat and waited. A moment later, the riddler emerged from the other side of the fridge in a smoking stagger.

“Don’t take this personally, little guy,” I said, aiming my cane at it. “Just doing my job.”

I enclosed the riddler in a light dome. This time, I pushed more energy into the spell, shrinking the dome like a fist to increase the pressure—something new I’d been working on. The riddler twitched and began to bulge in places. In a final fit, it raced in a tight circle, tail whipping, before dispersing in a burst of phlegm.

One less hole in our world. One less creature that didn’t belong.

“Hallelujah,” I muttered.

As I inspected the towel that had staunched my bleeding, voices grew in the corridor. I turned at the same moment Gert appeared through the swinging door. She and her husband were still pitched in argument, but when she glanced up, she stopped, her narrow jaw dropping.

“Morton, come here! Look at our kitchen!”

Admittedly, the kitchen looked like the site of a small bomb blast: fractured cabinet doors, spilled and smashed plates, a singed refrigerator. What mattered most, though, was the lack of human blood—better yet, the lack of a human body. I was about to point that out when Morty came up beside her.

“This some kinda joke?” he asked. “First the front door, now this?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

Gert threw her arms up. “And he’s going around calling himself an expert!”

“I’m right here, you know,” I told Gert, who clopped past me.

“Doesn’t he know this stuff costs money?” Morty plodded after her. “What’d he say his name was?”

“Edgar something,” Gert said distractedly.

“Well, if he thinks he’s getting any more of our business, he’s got another thing coming,” Morty decided.

Man, I really was ready for another level of wizarding.

As Morty and Gert fussed over the damage, I turned to the offending spell book. Using the copper filings, I created a casting circle around the book, then dusted its black cover with dragon sand. I closed the circle and whispered, “Fuoco.”

A controlled fire hissed up, consuming the tome. It would be ashes inside of thirty seconds, whereupon the fire would safely self-extinguish, but I couldn’t wait. A glance at my watch told me what I’d feared. I was running late, and this one was a biggie: a date with my colleague Caroline Reid.

I was almost to the destroyed front door when Gert unleashed a scream. “He’s set fire to the table, Morty! He’s trying to burn down our apartment!”

I shook my head and muttered, “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

2

I almost forgot to tip the elevator man before hurrying into the crowded reception hall. Fortunately, the address had only been a short cab ride from Morty and Gert’s place, but I was still twenty minutes late. Not terrible for me, but terrible under the circumstances.

This was to have been Caroline’s and my first date. A trial date, we decided—or rather she decided. Caroline had been skeptical over the whole idea. As I rose onto my tiptoes and searched the formal crowd, I had the sinking feeling I’d just given her plenty of reason.

“Don’t strain yourself,” a voice said near my ear.

I turned to see a woman I almost didn’t recognize. Her golden hair, usually worn down in waves, had been straightened and parted across her brow, then knotted into an elegant pattern behind her head. Her dress was no less stunning. The lace over her shoulders joined a mauve bodice that opened at the waist into slender, stylish folds to complete the floor-length gown.

My stagger was no performance. “Wow.”

Caroline stepped forward and kissed my cheek. “Looking sharp yourself, Professor.” The scent of her perfumed skin made the room waver. I planted my cane and returned the kiss.

“Listen, sorry I’m—”

“What’s this?” she cut in. Her blue-green eyes were studying the spot on my neck where the riddler had lashed me. The wound had stopped bleeding, and I’d put healing magic to it on the way over, but judging by Caroline’s attention it must have still looked angry.

“Oh, shaving error,” I said, faking an embarrassed laugh.

“Nice try, Everson, but that didn’t come from a Gillette.”

“Straight razor, actually. Nothing like the original, until it decides to slice you open. I couldn’t get the gash to stop bleeding, which is why I’m running late. I’m really sorry about that. I should’ve called.”

Lies on top of lies. Great way to kick off a relationship.

“I’m