Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Being “out of play” while Evers and Talin were out there looking for us sounded like a bad idea. There was no way I could help Monty if Evers turned me into a smear on the sidewalk. I needed someplace I could be out of commission without having to worry about an impending attack.

  This far downtown, that meant the Hellfire Club.

  The Hellfire was many things, but the most important of them was that it was safe—at the very least, safe enough for this. Erik had a destruction tolerance that had probably exceeded its limit with Monty and me, but he would still help us when he could.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Jessikah asked. “That looks like the…”

  “It’s no joke,” Erik answered, turning to the several Harlequin who stood nearby. “Make sure he’s secure. This is going to be pain…not the good kind.”

  The pain in my head subsided for a few seconds, and I reached the shore of clarity, if only for a moment. Just enough time for me to capitalize on the presence of this particular totem.

  “One ring to rule them all?”

  “Didn’t realize you were such a Tolkien fanboy,” Erik said. “Should I expect a tall old man wielding a staff?”

  “Hope not,” I said, “but you never know.”

  Erik held up the ring again, admiring it.

  “Of all the things your brain could have picked, you chose this symbol?” he said, turning it in his fingers. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or concerned.”

  “With my brain? Probably both, but I didn’t choose it.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “At least, I don’t think I did.”

  “I do not envy you the pain you will experience today.”

  “Can we just pass on the pain…good or otherwise?”

  “You shall not pass…on any of this pain,” Erik said with a tight smile. “It’s part of the signature-aligning process.”

  “Really? Now?”

  “Apologies, couldn’t resist my inner Gandalf. If it’s anything like a mage shift, you’ll wish you were dead many times over.”

  “I’m not a mage.”

  “I’m aware, and for someone who doesn’t wield energy the way mages do, you do experience many of the situations otherwise exclusive to mages. Is it possible you’re in the closet, or is it more like a wardrobe?”

  “I swear if you slide into Narnia, I’ll smack you myself.”

  “Just trying to raise your spirits a bit. This is going to be a major suckfest for you.”

  “Have I ever mentioned how mage morale building sucks?” I asked as I felt another tsunami of pain cresting. “This is hurting, and I haven’t even put that thing on.”

  “This is a particularly powerful totem, Strong,” Erik answered after a moment. “We won’t be able to be in here for long after I put it on you. Do you have any last words?”

  “I do?”

  “You must not be feeling that much pain if you can still be a smartass,” Erik said, his face grim. “I won’t try and move your hellhound—I do enjoy my fingers attached to my hands—but if it gets bad, you have to send him away, Strong.”

  “That bad?”

  Erik gave me one slow nod.

  “Beyond.”

  “Shit.”

  “The power in this ring is staggering,” Erik answered. “Any spillover or backlash will hurt even your hellhound. The design of this particular room”—he glanced around—“should mitigate most of the energy released, but I’m not certain. If you manage to survive this, I want to know how you came to possess it.”

  “If?”

  “Yes, if. I’ve never seen a totem with this much power…ever,” Erik answered, after looking down at the ring again. “I don’t know what it’s going to do to you, or if this room will be enough to contain the adjustment to your scattered signature.”

  “That…that sounds promising.”

  “I don’t know what you’re mixed up in this time,” Erik answered. “But this—”

  “Monty…schism,” I managed. “This should help me help him.”

  “Was that you at Haven earlier?”

  “Friends of his,” I said, holding off the pain. “Turns out they have some unfinished business with Monty.”

  “That explains the Black Orchid,” he said, glancing at Jessikah. “Unfinished business is usually lethal business. Is she here to erase him?”

  “She’s one of the good guys,” I said. “There are others…not so good. Those want to take out Monty.”

  Erik stared at me for a few seconds.

  “I swear,” he said, letting out a long breath. “Do you two actively look for danger?”

  “Not Monty’s fault this time…I think.”

  “Bullshit,” Erik said, making sure the straps were extra tight. “When the shit hits the fan, you two are either flinging the shit or you’re the fan. There’s no middle ground with you two—three, if you count your hellhound.”

  “This time I want to unplug the fan, and dodge the shit altogether,” I said with a weak smile. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said, continuing to tighten the straps. “Thank Director Nakatomi. The Dark Council has moved to a Blood Rule; she is in full control of the vampire division and locking things down. She put out the official word that you were off-limits to all Dark Council personnel.”

  “Off-limits? Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Anyone who moved against you in retaliation would be exterminated with extreme and merciless precision,” Erik said. “By her hand…personally.”

  “That sounds scary and dangerous,” I said. “What about unofficially?”

  “You have several packs of weres that would like to eviscerate you repeatedly,” he answered. “Along with a group of mages that still remember downtown and Tartarus. They would like to have a conversation with you. Unofficially, of course.”

  “Tartarsauce wasn’t my fault.” I smiled and then grew serious. “I didn’t summon him, and more importantly, he needed to be stopped. The Dark Council was sleeping on him.”

  “As I understand it, you took it upon yourself to make a phone call and raise an army?” Erik asked.

  “Tartarus was—is dangerous,” I said. “He needed to be stopped.”

  “By who?” Erik asked. “You lured the Dark Council Enforcers into a trap.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “They were racing downtown to stop a rogue mage, not an old god,” Erik answered with an edge. “An old god, who soundly beat them to a pulp…many died that day. Who do you think they blame—unofficially, of course?”

  “Me, of course,” I noticed how he forgot to mention how many were racing downtown to take out one rogue mage. “Unofficially, they had it coming. They wanted to erase Monty and kill Peaches.”

  He stared at me, then slowly shook his head.

  “We can discuss that later. Right now”—he held up the ring and moved to my extended arm—“this.”

  “I need you to make a call,” I said. “This is important.”

  “Who do you want me to call, now of all moments?”

  “Dex. He can help me.”

  “That may not be possible right now.”

  “What are you talking about? This is Monty, his nephew, his family.”

  “Dex has gone rogue…really rogue this time.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “The Golden Circle is gone,” Erik said, lowering his voice. “The entire place.”

  “Call LD and TK. If anyone can find him, it’s them.”

  “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, but I’ll see what I can do,” Erik said. “Anything in particular you want me to say to him?”

  “I need help.”

  “Short and to the point,” Erik answered. “That should work.”

  “How does an entire sect disappear? That place was enormous.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Dexter is a master teleporter,” Jessikah broke in. “He could do it. It’s almost impossible, but
he can do it.”

  “Shit, this complicates everything,” I said. “I think Monty is at the Golden Circle.”

  Peaches let out another small whine. I could tell he was worried.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” Erik said, looking at Peaches. “It’s going to be too dangerous in here, even for him. I know hellhounds are nearly indestructible, but this…”He shook his head. “This is an unknown quantity.”

  “I don’t want him to get hurt. Give me a moment.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  That’s when I knew it was bad. My hellhound had just turned down an offer of meat.

 

 

  Hellhound logic was hard to counter. I was going to need a different strategy.

 

 

 

  I could almost hear the hellhound wheels turning in his head. I had no illusion as to his intelligence—Peaches XL came across as a genius-level intellect, reminding me many times that he communicated in a rudimentary way so that I could understand him. Not the other way around. Still, my logic was sound, and I had boxed him in…for now.

 

 

  He chuffed and slobbered my face before padding away to stand next to Jessikah…because healthy saliva.

  “Hellhound situation squared away,” I said, peering at Erik through the haze of impending agony squeezing my brain. Speaking to Peaches had accelerated the pain train. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “This is really going to hurt,” Erik said, holding the ring gingerly. “Ready?”

  “No. Do it anyway.”

  TWENTY

  Life is pain.

  Anyone who tries to tell you different is lying.

  Yes, life is full of good things—family, friends, hungry hellhounds, and deep, rich mugs of javambrosia—special moments, and the like. But beneath it all, at the foundation…lies pain.

  Never far and only a heartbeat away.

  Pain and loss are the only way we learn to appreciate the things we have and those we don’t. Right now, what I had was an impending blitz of misery. What I didn’t have was another way to deal with this situation and help Monty.

  I decided Winston had the best plan for this one: If you’re going through hell, keep going.

  I intended to keep going.

  I nodded to Erik and he placed the ring on my finger. For a few seconds, all I felt was warmth expanding through my hand. I looked over and noticed the area brightening as the ring gave off a dull glow, pulsing every few seconds with subtle, golden light.

  Then it started.

  I had felt pain before. All kinds of pain. Nothing prepared me for this. I saw Erik gesture and back up with Jessikah and Peaches beside him.

  “Good luck,” he said. “We’ll speak on the other side…hopefully.”

  Regular mage of optimism, that Erik. Moments later, they were gone.

  Those were the last words I heard before everything became white noise and pain.

  I was alone.

  I don’t know how I knew, but I knew I was in the room alone. My senses were on overdrive. Smells surrounded me. I felt the leather straps chafe against my wrists, biceps, thighs, and ankles.

  I looked down and realized I was only wearing a pair of shorts.

  When did that happen?

  The pain quickly focused my attention on the white-hot sun blossoming on my hand. I glanced over at the ring and nearly blinded myself, the energy was so intense. I closed my eyes, turning my head away from the light, and tracking the afterimage against my closed eyelids.

  That’s when the festivities kicked up a notch.

  My body spasmed. Each of my muscles seized as I strained hard against the straps, arching my back. It felt like an army of dwarves, armed with hammers, had decided I was a nail, and needed to be beaten into the ground…repeatedly. Every part of my body screamed with tension.

  The pain subsided a few agonizing seconds later, only to be replaced with a searing heat that made me actually look around to see if I was ablaze. I figured it was my curse trying to heal me, and failing. My eyes were next; it felt like the heat wasn’t content with just incinerating my body. It raced up to my face and focused on melting my eyes.

  I took a few deep breaths and tried to ride the waves of pain. It was working to a certain extent; I could feel the crest approaching and tried to breathe through the worst of the agony.

  That didn’t last long.

  The army of dwarves was replaced with fire ants riding wasps, and they all stung my eyes at once. I started screaming then. I screamed until I lost the ability to make a sound, and then I screamed some more.

  “That looks painful,” a familiar voice said next to me, in between my screams. “Is he really worth it?”

  I tried focusing my eyes and failed. Everything was a blur. It didn’t matter: I knew who it was by the voice and air of menace.

  Kali.

  “He would do the same…the same for me,” I said hoarsely. “Why are you here?”

  “You are my cursed,” Kali said. “Your current increase in power caught my attention. I came to see if you were actively trying to end your existence. Do you seek death?”

  For a split second, I almost said yes…the pain was that bad.

  “No,” I said, and gritted my teeth. “It’d be great if you…if you could do something about the pain, though.”

  “Would you like more?” she asked. I could tell she was serious by her tone. “I’m certain I could increase the level of discomfort exponentially.”

  “This…this is way past discomfort,” I answered with a groan. “This is really up there with intolerable agony.”

  “Perfect,” she said, and I could almost hear the smile. “Pain at that level is cleansing, pure. It peels away all pretenses and reveals your true nature. It is in the white-hot crucible of suffering that the dross is burned away. This is good for you.”

  “Good? How is this good?”

  “Well, in the long term, if it doesn’t kill you, you will be tempered, made stronger,” she said. “Short term, nothing focuses a mind more than pain. Singular focus at that level is good.”

  “No…not good,” I said, shaking my head. “Can we dial down the dross-burning?”

  “Why?” she asked. “You knew this was going to be pain. Several people advised you, yet you chose to continue upon this exquisite path. Why would I deprive you of this singular experience of purity?”

  “Because it’s killing me?”

  “Killing you?” she asked, glancing down at the glowing supernova on my finger. “Are you certain? You have proven quite resilient in the past.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, getting angry and momentarily forgetting who I was speaking to. “This thing is melting me from the inside out. Take it off.”

  “Impossible,” she said, stepping close enough that I could feel her
breath on my face. “If I remove it, I will have to kill you…permanently. Is that your wish?”

  “Is it yours?” I asked. “If you don’t get this off me, I’m pretty sure I’m dying here…on a cross…in a dungeon…Wonderful. Is that what you want?”

  “I will get what I want, my Cursed,” she said in a soft voice. “You will help me.”

  “I can’t do that if I’m dead.”

  “Stop being so precious,” she said dismissively. “You’ve withstood and survived worse. Power always comes at a cost. This is a law that cannot be broken—bent, perhaps, but not broken. Out of the seven laws, that one is the most irrefutable. That one encompasses them all.”

  “I don’t want this power.”

  Even shaping the thoughts to form the words hurt.

  “Really?” she asked, as I heard her pulling over some piece of furniture. “Do you think you possess enough? Enough to save Tristan? To defeat Evers and her minion?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” she said with a small laugh. “Then this entire exercise is for what? Practice? Try again. This time, be honest.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t possess enough power to save Monty, or to stop Evers. In case you haven’t noticed…I’m not a mage.”

  “Yet you have accomplished much without being a mage.”

  “Monty is in trouble,” I said. “He needs help.”

  “Is that why?” she asked. “Why you put yourself through this?”

  “I don’t want power, but I need it…to do what I must.”

  “You must?” she scoffed. “You are going to risk it all, to save the one who abandoned you? He even threatened you with death. This is who you want to save?”

  “No… he didn’t…He wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “If you seek me out,” Kali said in Monty’s voice, “I will end your immortal existence.”

  “That’s…that’s just creepy.”

  “Those were his words. I was there,” she said. “He sounded serious.”