Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) by Brad Magnarella

Author:Brad Magnarella [Magnarella, Brad]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Croftverse Press
Published: 2020-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

27

I declined Gorgantha’s help down from the carriage, even though I was still queasy and my legs felt uncertain. Bree-yark pulled Dropsy from his pouch, but told her to keep her glow on the down-low. As the carriage U-turned across the dirt lane, Caroline came to my side.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Much better. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re hidden now,” she assured me, referring to the revenant.

I nodded, even though I hated being a sink on her finite powers. “Just let me know how you’re doing.”

“We’re in what will become New York’s Upper West Side,” she said, changing the subject.

As the horses clopped away, I looked around at the farmland that had been cleared and converted into building lots. For now, the result was a grid of dirt lanes, where ley energy trickled weakly. Plank homes were scattered here and there—squatter housing, most likely—but the city was clearly planning its thrust northward.

“Central Park is under construction to the east,” Caroline continued. “Many of the laborers live around here, so that’s who we can expect to find in the Old Bell.” She nodded at the building catty-corner to us, a two-story tavern with a hanging sign out front. A mass of figures crowded beyond the windows, the rise and fall of their murmuring voices breaking into occasional bouts of shouting and laughter.

I checked the pocket watch. Seven o’clock on the nose. By the time I looked up, Caroline was back in her male guise. She had altered our glamours so that we looked like laborers now, dusty coats and sweat-stained shirts.

“Good work,” I said. “Let’s move.”

I crossed the road, skirted a post tethered with horses, and opened the tavern door. A rowdy wall of noise hit me first, followed by a yeasty wave of beer and body odor that made my eyes water. Every surface on which one could conceivably sit was taken, the bar in the tavern’s back a solid five men deep.

I edged over to a plastered wall darkened by lantern smoke for a better vantage. My gaze went face to face in search of anyone I recognized. The place was mostly men, laborers as Caroline had guessed, the majority looking as if they’d come straight from their shift at Central Park. They were Germans, Irish, and Italians, all talking at once, their dialects as rough as their ruddy faces. No one stood out for me.

I peered back. Caroline had entered and was standing in an inconspicuous spot near a window. From there she could see Bree-yark, who’d taken over Arnaud duty and was watching the door from the outside. He had a line of sight on Gorgantha, who was keeping tabs on the side and back of the tavern.

Three men in aprons and drab shirts tended the bar, sleeves rolled to the elbows. While two of them busied themselves filling tumblers and steins, the oldest stood off to the side, a towel over one shoulder. He was tall with a lean, somber face and a widow’s peak of iron-colored hair.

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