Night Rune Prof Croft 8 Brad Magnarella Copyright © 2020 by Brad Magnarella All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Available Now! Preview of Blue Curse Free Books, Anyone? Join the Strange Brigade Croftverse Catalogue The Prof Croft Series PREQUELS Book of Souls Siren Call MAIN SERIES Demon Moon Blood Deal Purge City Death Mage Black Luck Power Game Druid Bond Night Rune MORE COMING! 1 Arnaud Thorne was sitting on the metal bench at the back of his cell, legs folded, slender fingers interlaced around his knee. The drab robe he wore over his prison scrubs was police issue, but he managed to make it appear regal. It was his bearing, erect yet relaxed. As his yellow eyes found mine through the window, his lips turned up at the corners. “Mr. Croft,” he said with false cheer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” The magic that warded his confinement warped the air between us, bending his grin into odd shapes. The effect was nauseating, but no more so than the reason I’d come to him. And knowing he’d been expecting me. “Where are they?” I asked. He leaned forward, fine eyebrows rising up his waxy brow. “And to whom are you referring?” “My teammates,” I said. “The ones I entered the time catch with.” “You’re going to have to be more specific.” Struggling to keep a neutral expression, I exhaled slowly through my nose. His powers couldn’t penetrate the cell’s defenses, but he was a master manipulator, something he could manage through words alone. It was why I had given the guards strict instructions to keep the speaker off at all times. In fact, I’d ordered the guards out before turning it on. Arnaud and I had the holding area to ourselves. “There were four,” I said. “A young minister, a druid, a half-fae, and a mermaid.” “Indeed?” “Yes.” More than ten hours had passed since my return, and the Upholders were still no-shows. For a time, I held to the hope they’d delayed their return from 1776 New York to allow everyone to heal. Malachi, along with several of the half-fae, had suffered injuries from cannon fire, and some of the recovered druids, including Jordan’s wife, had been weakened by possession. But hours here would have been days there. By first light this morning, I had to accept something had gone awry. “Ah, yes.” Arnaud sat back and tucked a strand of fine white hair behind an ear. “You were quite a motley outfit. Fascinating to observe. And surprisingly capable.” He tsked. “A pity.” “What’s a pity?” “Well, that you journeyed all that way to rescue their friends, and you returned empty handed.” He opened out his own hands, his smile revealing his sharp teeth. He was baiting me to fire back with something to the effect that we’d destroyed a pair of Strangers, or that I’d managed to capture him. He wanted to stoke my emotions into a smoky blaze that would cloud my reasoning. But past experience with Arnaud had prepared me. “Where are they?” I repeated. He stood and straightened his robe so that it fell into neat pleats around his baggy pants. Clasping his fingers behind his back, he began a slow stroll around his cell in a pair of canvas shoes. As I awaited his response, I examined him for symptoms of being cut off from the infernal realm. He did appear thinner. And under the harsh fluorescent lights, his skin seemed to be yellowing. But if he felt any depleting effects, he hid them well. He pursed his narrow lips in a thoughtful expression, as if he had all the time in the world. At last, he spun on a heel. “What are you prepared to offer?” I grunted a laugh. “You’re not getting out.” “Then why should I assist you?” “Because this cell is the only thing protecting you from your master.” “What are you suggesting, Mr. Croft?” “I switch off certain sigils, and Malphas will see you’ve been taken prisoner. He’ll send up infernal power in an attempt to overwhelm the forces holding you, but when that fails, he’ll reclaim you before you can spill more than you already have. Yeah, you’ve said nothing, but he won’t know that.” I made a diving motion with my finger. “Back to the Below. And with no way to return to our world, you’ll be useless. Not only that, you’ll have failed him. I don’t think I need to spell out the rest.” Arnaud chuckled. “Laugh all you want,” I said, fighting to keep my throat relaxed. “You know it’s true.” “Oh, rest assured, Mr. Croft, I find no humor in the scenario. I imagine that’s exactly how events would unfold.” “Then what’s so funny?” “For all your bold talk, you won’t carry out your threat.” “No?” I challenged. “No. And it’s because of your lady friend and the little miracle she’s carrying.” My cheeks prickled with cold heat. “They have nothing to do with this.” I said it too quickly, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want Vega or our unborn child on the demon-vampire’s tongue, much less his mind. “Did I strike a nerve?” Arnaud was suddenly inches from me, his demonic eyes peering hard into mine through the window. The cell’s currents made his narrow pupils appear as if they fell into deep, twisting voids. I shuffled back a half step. “Ooh, I believe I did,” he said, delighting in my reaction. “Let me elaborate, Mr. Croft. If you released me to my master, yes, I would likely be destroyed. But what if I weren’t?” He grinned up at me. “After all, I’ve defied death before. And what if I found
