Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Monty always sounds serious. It’s a mage thing,” I said. “The schism is messing with his mind.”

  She laughed, and the sound drove cold needles of fear into me.

  “A schism reveals the darker nature, the things that are hidden, the things that are true,” she said. “Perhaps he envies your immortality. Can you imagine? An immortal mage? Living long enough to discover all of the secrets of power?”

  “That’s not him.”

  “He would never age, never grow ill,” she continued. “He would become the most powerful mage in existence. Nothing and no one could stop him.”

  “That’s…not…who he is,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. “Monty isn’t some power-hungry mage.”

  “You think you know him?” Kali asked. “You only know what he has chosen to show you.”

  “He’s shown me plenty, when it counted the most.”

  “You know nothing. Have you seen Montague the War Mage? Have you experienced the Scourge of the Banshee?”

  “That’s not Monty…not anymore.”

  “Are you trying to convince me…or yourself?”

  She waved a hand in my direction.

  The pain subsided from my body and I let out a long breath.

  “I know him. He is good,” I said as the vision slowly returned to my eyes. “He will not become a dark mage.”

  “Perhaps what he needs is a shield against the impending darkness,” Kali said, gently taking hold of the enso pendant hanging from my neck. It shone a deep violet in her palm. “This is what you are…his shieldbearer, yes?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Redefining and refining your purpose. You will become a shieldbearer, but of a different sort.”

  “I’m not crazy about the shieldbearer I am now.”

  “You voice your opinion like you have a choice in the matter,” she said. “You made the choice long ago. These are the consequences.”

  “I don’t recall making the choice to be tortured,” I said. “Or to be a shieldbearer.”

  “The day you stood beside the mage to fight off impending destruction, you made your choice. That day and every day since.”

  She closed her hand around the enso pendant. The chain attached to it came apart and disintegrated, leaving the pendant in her hand. The enso was an open circle, symbolizing perfection in imperfection.

  “That’s not mine,” I said. “That belongs to Monty.”

  “It was given to you, shieldbearer,” Kali answered, hefting the pendant in her palm. “Do you know why I cursed you?”

  “You were pissed?” I said and paused, giving it thought, hopefully before she blasted me for my default answer. “Not really I figured it was because I messed up your plan against Shiva?”

  “Partially, yes,” she said. “Your interference deserved an adequate response.”

  “I did notice how you conveniently forgot to curse Monty, though.”

  “Convenient? It was anything but,” she said. “Cursing you meant abrogating laws of time and space. There were several who felt I…overreacted.”

  “They dared to say that to your face?”

  “They did,” she said, unleashing another chilling smile.

  I knew in that moment that whoever or whatever had dared to inform her of their opinion was a memory.

  “Cursing me immortal was adequate?” I asked taking my immortal life into my hands. “Seems like it was a bit of overkill. Why not just blast me to dust?”

  “I was pissed,” she said, waving my words away. “How would you react if some idiot, well meaning as you were, interrupted a plan that took five thousand years to implement?”

  “Good point,” I admitted with a brief nod that sent small ripples of pain everywhere. “I’d be pissed too. Maybe not ‘cursing people alive’ angry, but I’d be upset.”

  “Blasting you to dust for your interference would have been…adequate,” she answered, “but there is more at play here than you can imagine.”

  “Can’t you just tell me?” I asked. “Why do mages and gods speak in riddles?”

  “Mages speak in convolution out of habit. Gods obfuscate because we are cunning.”

  “Would it kill you, just once, to state things plainly?”

  “No, it wouldn’t, but it may kill you,” she answered. “Human brains are such frail things. You barely comprehend the four dimensions you inhabit; to speak plainly would only confuse you further.”

  “So, you speak in riddles because the truth would melt my brain?”

  “You know the truth,” she said. “Understanding it is another matter entirely.”

  “How can I know what I don’t know?” I said, frustrated. “That makes no sense.”

  She smiled, and it was worse than the laugh. For a moment, I wished my vision would blur again. Her beauty as a goddess was impossible to look away from. It wasn’t the beauty, though. Behind it, mixed in with it, I was gripped by a profound feeling of death and foreboding.

  This was fear…real, mind-numbing, blood-curdling, run-away-screaming fear.

  I was getting a glimpse at the goddess of creation and destruction, and my mind could barely keep it together. A few more minutes of this, and I’d be a drooling vegetable.

  “You know the answer,” she said, opening the hand holding the pendant. “What you must learn…is the question.”

  “The question?”

  “Do you know the question?”

  “At this point, I barely know my own name, much less some hidden question.”

  “Some things are hidden plainly,” she said, forming a fist around the pendant. “Like this ‘key.’”

  “Could you not destroy that?” I said, concerned that getting a replacement would be nearly impossible. “Nana would be really pissed if I broke Monty’s key.”

  “You still don’t understand,” Kali said, raising her fist. “But you will. For now, I will take matters into my hands.”

  She drove her hand and the pendant into my chest.

  My torso erupted in violet light. The Pain—which up to this moment, had been taking a break—came back…with friends, Agony and Torture. The violet light in my torso exploded and outshone the light from the ring.

  I couldn’t even scream in agony, it was that intense and sudden, ripping the breath from my lungs.

  “Your totem has three uses,” Kali said when she removed her hand a few agonizing seconds later. “Only three.”

  “Why only three?” I managed between gasps. “How do I even use them?”

  “Three, because four would have meant collecting your remains,” she said. “Even immortals have limits. How did you open the box containing the ring?”

  “With…with difficulty.”

  “I would imagine it required viewing energy differently?”

  “I don’t know how to do that regularly,” I said. “I had help.”

  “Then practice,” she said. “Utilize the ring wisely. The power of this pendant”—she placed a hand on my chest—“is now yours to master and refine. You will no longer need this.”

  She touched my mala bracelet, and it became dust.

  “I kind of needed that,” I said, feeling surprisingly naked without my shield. “It was an effective defense.”

  “A shield does not require a shield,” she answered. “You are not a mage and never will be, my Cursed, but you will bear my mark and be feared.”

  “I thought I already bore your mark? Endless knot on my hand?”

  “That is the mark of your curse, not my mark. My mark is all encompassing and will be visible to those who can see.”

  “Another one of those hidden in plain sight things, I’m guessing?”

  “You’re learning,” she said with a nod. “The power you possess will rival that of any mage, once you understand how to use it.”

  “That sounds like more pain.”

  “There are some who would see magic and its use removed from this plane.”

  “Evers and Talin,” I
managed. “They want to erase magic. Is that even possible?”

  “Do you want to find out?”

  “No.”

  “You will become the shieldbearer against those who would try to transform and twist this energy,” she said. “You will be the one in the gap, no longer a shieldbearer. You will be my aspis—a shield-warrior.

  She placed a finger on each of my eyes—her index and ring finger—and a third, her middle finger, on my forehead in some strange variation of a Vulcan mind-meld. The icepick that was burrowing into my head earlier decided now was a good time to explode.

  Violet and gold light blinded me, robbing me of my sight again, as the straps holding me in place melted away. I fell to the ground in a heap of mangled pain and agony.

  The sobs came then, uncontrolled and unrestrained.

  “Just…just kill me,” I said in-between wracking sobs. “I can’t…I can’t do this.”

  “That day will come,” Kali said gently. “But it is not today. You will have to endure a little longer. It is not only Tristan that depends on you now.”

  Another wave of pain crested and crashed into me as I spasmed on the floor, blinded by power and pain.

  I was alone again.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The first thing I felt and heard was Peaches’ wet muzzle push my face with a worried whine. Then he growled. I felt the tremor race across the floor, originating in his chest, and radiating outward from him in sonic ripples. He spread his forelegs and blocked my view.

  “Strong,” Erik said slowly. “Inform your hellhound we’re trying to help you.”

  “It’s okay, boy,” I said, patting my hellhound’s flanks weakly. “Let them pass.”

 

  “Later,” I said softly. “Not now.”

  “Strong, we can’t do this later,” Erik said. “You need attention now.”

  “Sorry, not you,” I said weakly. “Was talking to my hellhound.”

  I didn’t chance communicating with Peaches in our normal way…my brain still felt tender, and I ached all over.

 

  I winced as his voice slammed into my head.

 

 

 

 

 

  Peaches moved over to the side with a low rumble, allowing Erik and several of the Harlequin access to my mangled body. They gently scooped me up from the floor and suspended me in mid-air, before placing me on the table. I hadn’t realized how strong the Harlequin were, but it made sense. They weren’t window dressing; they were the security for the Hellfire Club.

  Erik wouldn’t pick a group of weak women to protect his mage club—he’d get the best, which also meant the strongest. I was pretty certain they were all like Master Yat, wielding their tonfa the way he wielded his staff, skillfully and painfully when the situation required it.

  “Secure him,” Erik said, his voice distant. “Make sure the table is horizontal. I don’t want him falling off. How did you break free?”

  “I didn’t,” I said, looking at the ruined straps. “They just fell apart. Maybe get better quality next time?”

  “Strong, that was the highest quality leather,” Erik answered. “I runed and reinforced those straps myself. There was no way you should have been able to destroy them.”

  “Probably wasn’t me then,” I said, my voice raspy. “Could they have just been worn out from too much use?”

  “What happened to him?” Jessikah asked. “He looks awful, like he’s been beaten…severely and repeatedly.”

  “Thanks,” I said, barely able to form the word. “I feel that way, too. Some water would be good.”

  Erik glanced at one of the Harlequin, and motioned with a hand. She left the room only to return a few seconds later, with a silver pitcher and a large glass, setting it to one side.

  “What happened, Strong?” Erik asked as he poured me half a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Here, drink this, slowly. Do not guzzle it.”

  “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” I said, after taking a few sips of the water. It was delicious. “What is this?” I held up the glass. “This isn’t water.”

  “It’s Rejuven,” Erik said. “Looks like water, tastes like heaven. On occasion, some of the patrons ‘tax’ themselves past the point of wisdom. We give them that to help them recover.”

  “Whatever it is,” I said, taking another sip, “it’s excellent. Can I have more?”

  “No,” Erik said, motioning to one of the Harlequin with a nod. The Harlequin gently removed the glass from my hand and the pitcher, silently stepping out of the room. “It’s highly effective and incredibly addictive. A little goes a long way. You should be feeling its effects.”

  “Feeling much better already,” I said, as the low-grade warmth rushed through my body. I still ached, but now I only felt gently mangled, instead of chewed up, spit out and stomped on.

  “Tell me what happened,” Erik said. “Leave nothing out, even the things you feel are incredible.”

  “What happened to your eyes?” Jessikah asked, pointing at my face with a look of surprise. “They didn’t look like that before.”

  Erik gave Jessikah a glance and shook his head.

  “What’s wrong with my eyes?” I said, concerned. “What do you see?”

  “They’re glowing…purple,” Jessikah answered. “I’m certain I would have remembered if you had glowing purple eyes.”

  “Glowing eyes? Nice.”

  “Nice?” Jessikah said, evidently upset. “Normal eyes do not glow purple, or any other color for that matter.”

  “I left normal long ago,” I said, keeping my voice calm. I didn’t want her launching from upset into hysterical. “I’ve never claimed to be normal. In fact, I’ve never even met normal. Can you describe what normal looks like?”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not a mage. How is this happening to you?”

  “I’m abnormal?”

  “Truest thing you’ve said all day,” Erik said. “Starting with your brain.”

  Jessikah opened her mouth to answer and closed it again.

  “Surely, you can appreciate how out of the ordinary this is,” Jessikah said, when she found her voice. “These events, his signature, the hellhound, and the fact that he can manipulate energy without being a mage…it’s not proper.”

  She was beginning to get on my nerves.

  “I’m sure we’ll get to that in a moment,” Erik said, focusing on me again. “Strong, start from the moment we left the room.”

  I explained what had happened with the totem, the pendant, the agony, and Kali.

  Erik looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

  “It tracks,” he said. “Your signature is slowly aligning. Whatever she did to you seems to have set you right in the scariest way possible. I still can’t entirely tell what’s going on. If you were a mage I’d say you shifted, but…”

  “I’m not a mage,” I finished, glancing at the disturbed Jessikah. “I know.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said. “Whatever she did, untangled the mess with your bonds.” He narrowed his eyes again. “There are three clear lines of resonance, overlapped and intertwined with some new thread of energy—a separate bond…Incredible. How do you feel?”

  “Like one of Peaches’ chew toys,” I said, assessing the damage to my body. I was sore everywhere, but functional. “I feel like I went a few rounds with an angry troll and lost.”

  “Is there another kind of troll?”

  “That…is a valid point,” I said, remembering my date. “Trolls are not known for their cheerful dispositions.”

  “A
re we supposed to believe that the actual goddess, Kali, paid him a visit?” Jessikah asked, incredulously. “Why would a goddess visit you and leave you alive? Especially a goddess like Kali?”

  Erik and I turned to look at her.

  I could understand her reluctance and surprise. It’s not that she disbelieved in the existence of gods; she was a mage, after all. It was, however, becoming clear that her worldview was shaped by those she perceived as superior—those who wielded energy—and everyone else.

  Also, Kali did have a reputation for being cranky on a homicidal level unsurpassed by most. Jessikah’s skepticism made sense, even though her tone irked me.

  In her mind, I fell into the unworthy everyone else category.

  “What do you think happened here?” Erik asked. “As an Orchid agent, how do you explain his energy signature? You’re trained to observe and assess. Execute your powers of observation and extrapolate why Kali would visit Strong.”

  “I…I really don’t know,” Jessikah answered. “His situation refutes all my training. Technically, he should be dead even before encountering a goddess, if that even happened.”

  “Trust me, it did,” I said with a slight groan. “Her visit was no dream.”

  “His energy signature displayed high levels of activity and complete inactivity simultaneously. In addition, he’s bound to a spawn of hell, and works cases with a dark mage. All improbable occurrences, yet factual.”

  “Monty is not dark…yet,” I corrected. “He’s on the verge.”

  “Semantics,” Jessikah said, waving my words away. “He used blood magic. It’s only a matter of time. The power is a slippery slope few can resist.”

  “He will resist it.”

  “Correct on the facts regarding Strong,” Erik said. “Let’s leave opinion out of Tristan’s situation. The fact is that he is in the midst of a schism. He hasn’t gone dark yet. Strong is correct in his response. What is your assessment?”

  “Honestly? It seems safer to place Tristan under restraint.”

  “Safer?” I asked. “For who?”

  “For whom,” she corrected. “For him and for the general populace. Do you know the power of a dark mage? It’s staggering. The entire city is in danger once he goes dark.”