The Golem: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 10)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  I stared at him. He was right, but I would never tell him that.

  “I’ve just gotten used to the idea of Ebonsoul floating around inside of me somewhere,” I answered, straightening myself out. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

  “You may not have the luxury of time,” Monty said, looking down the hallway at Cece’s door. “Haven’t you noticed the caliber of your enemies? They seem to be getting stronger, commensurate with the increase in your power.”

  “My enemies?” I asked. “I’m not the mage—you are.”

  “A valid point.”

  “Exactly,” I said, feeling somewhat vindicated. “You are the one dealing with all the energy slinging and runic manipulation.”

  “However,” he began, “Kali cursed you—Chosen One. Hades gave you a hellhound to bond with. It also seemed like Chaos was particularly focused on you for some reason.”

  “That was all because of a mage—”

  “You also happen to be energetically intertwined with an ancient vampire, whose mental stability is...questionable at best. You recently ingested dragon blood and survived, faced the guardian of the Underworld, and regularly have conversations with an agent of causality.”

  “It’s mostly your fault, you know.”

  “I disagree. Until you embrace who you are,” he said, pointing a finger at me, “and accept responsibility for your part in your life, you will experience runic dissonance, which is expressed in rather interesting ways—like having your internal organs convulsing in pain every time you teleport or planewalk.”

  “I don’t know which is worse: the lecture or the agony of planewalking,” I said, upset. Mostly at myself, because his words contained enough truth to sting. “Are you done?”

  He let out a short sigh and shook his head.

  “The list is quite long,” Monty said, nodding. “I’d continue, but as I mentioned, we are pressed for time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m a Montague and a mage. I’m always serious.”

  “You know, ever since we met, my life has been radically altered.”

  “For the better,” Monty said with a nod. “I agree. Now shall we address this current situation, which, surprisingly, is not of your making?”

  “After you,” I said, pointing at Cece’s door. “She’s your apprentice, Darth Monty.”

  “Not only is that inaccurate, it’s not remotely humorous,” Monty said, approaching Cece’s door. “She is my student. While the terminology is correct, the context is wrong. She has not ‘gone over’ to the dark side, nor am I a Sith Lord.”

  “Freezing a building full of people, with the potential of reducing it to a pile of rubble, sounds pretty dark side to me.”

  “If it were intentional,” Monty said, gesturing and forming several large, white-hot orbs in front of her door. “Then I could see this act as being dark. As it stands, she’s probably scared witless at her shift.”

  “Oh, this is what Jotnar fear looks like?” I asked. “I’d hate to see her angry, determined, and focused.”

  “Yes, you would,” Monty said his voice grim. “The Jotnar are staggeringly powerful, their ice mages in particular. This is most likely Cecelia losing control because of the shift.”

  “Wait—should we be going in there if she’s out of control?” I asked. “I mean, I seem to recall your last shift was dangerous…mostly for me.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Monty said, extending his arm. “We can’t stop her from out here.”

  “Oh, hell,” I said, pressing the main bead on my mala bracelet and pulling up my shield. I made sure Peaches was behind the shield. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I,” he said. “I’ve never dealt with a Jotnar shift.”

  Monty gestured again, forming another shield in front of mine as the orbs floated into the door with a loud hiss.

  A moment later, the door exploded.

  SEVEN

  Chunks of ice, wood, and metal lay scattered all over the hallway. The door leading to Cece’s place was gone, replaced by a gaping hole. Monty stepped in through the jagged opening that used to be the door.

  “Bloody hell,” I heard him curse under his breath. “This is incredible.”

  “You mean the ice everywhere?” I asked, dropping my shield and following him in a second later. “Or the fact that this was done by a little girl?”

  “Both.”

  We were standing in what I assumed was the foyer. It was hard to tell, since everything had the feel of an arctic ice cave. The space was laid out similarly to ours, with some distinct differences. The short foyer led to a large room; we had turned ours into a reception area for clients, but in Cece’s space, it was a large living room. Off this room was the kitchen, and another hallway, which I guessed led to a bedroom.

  Our space was substantially larger, missing a few walls, and I hoped lacked the additional architectural feature of magic ice. We had the same hallway which led back to the sleeping quarters. In our space, we also had the conference room, and the additional door that led to Uncle Dex’s room, which was best left unopened.

  There was ice everywhere. In the background, I could hear the sound of distant wind blowing.

  “That sound. Is that—?”

  “Cecelia, yes. That sound would be the location of the source we need.”

  “A question,” I said, looking around. “The ice, is everywhere on the floor at this point, does this mean our place is currently a winter wonderland?”

  “No,” Monty said, stepping farther into the space. “Cecelia is powerful, but the defenses on our space are considerably stronger.”

  “That’s reassuring,” I said. “I’d hate to have all my things frozen.”

  “This isn’t typical ice,” Monty said, looking around a corner. “Once it’s dispelled, no water will be left behind.”

  “Do you know a dry ice dispelling rune that can handle that?”

  “Let me clarify,” Monty said. “Once Cecelia dispels the ice, there will be no water residue.”

  “You can’t do it?”

  “No. Remember, we want to keep the building intact. If I attempt to remove this ice, it can result in a collapse, with us inside of it.”

  “In that case, we’d better let her do it, then,” I said. “Do you think she will listen?”

  “Hard to tell. It depends on how deep into this shift she is.”

  “I’d say she’s in pretty deep,” I said, taking in the surrounding ice. “Can you sense where she is?”

  “No need,” Monty answered and pointed to a closed door. “Over there.”

  “I’ll take the runically enhanced ice storm behind door number one,” I said, staying back just in case the door flew off its hinges. “That doesn’t look good.”

  I realized the temperature had dropped when our exhalations formed little clouds that quickly crystallized into ice, falling to the floor. The door was forcibly vibrating, and the sound of the wind had increased from stiff breeze to approaching hurricane.

  Lying still in front of the door was Rags, Cece’s guardian. I focused on Rags’ body first, dreading the worst, until I saw her flank slowly rise and fall with each breath. Around her, ice and blue energy swirled as the intensity of the wind rose and fell. Frost was slowly forming on and around her body.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” Monty muttered under his breath. “We need containment.”

  “I’m guessing the gale of destruction is the source of the ice?”

  “Yes and no,” Monty said over the whine of wind. “Cecelia is the source; the storm raging around her is an expression of her shift.”

  “I’m not going to enjoy the next words you’re going to say, am I?”

  “We need to open that door.”

  “I was right. We need to move her guardian first.”

  “Agreed. Her guardian needs assistance,” Monty said over the rising whine of wind. “Have your creature take her outside. She can’t help in that st
ate. I’ll begin the cast to get us inside.”

  Peaches let out a low rumble finishing with a soft whine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Peaches padded down the hallway to where Rags lay. If the wind was affecting him, he gave no indication. It wasn’t until he was closer, that I saw him square his body and dig into the ice covered floor to stop from slipping.

  His massive paws dropped an inch into the ice as he fought the energy of the wind with each step. He gently placed a paw on Rags’ side as the runes along his flanks blazed with red energy.

  With a low bark that shook some of the ice, Peaches and Rags were gone.

  EIGHT

  Monty gestured and formed a lattice of violet energy that filled the hallway behind us.

  “Monty, why is the lattice behind us?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be safer to place the lattice in front of us?”

  “No, we need to open the door, and once we do”—he extended an arm down the hallway—“we can’t let anything escape this containment area.”

  I glanced at the ice covering everything.

  “I’d say we’re past that point, considering we’re currently standing in Siberia,” I said. “What is there to contain? The ice is outside of the room.”

  “You’re not paying attention,” Monty said. “The ice is an expression of Cecelia’s shift. Think of it as a side-effect. The real danger is Cecelia.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “We have to stop her without harming her. Any ideas?”

  “Working on it,” Monty said. “There’s no precedent in my studies for Jotnar ice mage shifts of power.”

  The building started to creak as cracking sounds echoed throughout the hallway.

  “Great, we get to die in a frozen wasteland in the middle of the city as you figure this out,” I said as more creaking filled the hallway. “What the hell is that?”

  “That would be the ice compromising the structural integrity of the building,” Monty answered, focused on the door. “Now, unless you have any illuminating ideas on how to deal with this ice, let me concentrate.”

  “Maybe we should call Bangers and Mash?” I asked, not being able to resist. “I’m sure a few well-placed charges of C4—”

  “Suggest those two again and I’ll blast you myself.”

  I raised my hands in surrender and smiled.

  “No need to get touchy. We do need to come up with a signature move, though. How about the Triple M?”

  “The what?” Monty asked, gesturing and creating symbols in the air. “What is a Triple M?”

  “The Massive Montague Maelstrom: Triple M. Guaranteed to bring the house down, well, building in this case. What do you think?”

  “I think you should stop talking and prepare your shield—now.”

  “Maybe we’ll just call it the MMM?”

  “Would you prefer to remain out here while I go and try to subdue our Jotnar ice mage?”

  “Our? She’s your apprentice, O Darth Monty.”

  “Not…even…remotely…funny,” Monty said, unleashing a barrage of small golden orbs at the door. “Brace yourself.”

  The enso pendant around my neck flared with violet light.

  I pressed the bead on my mala bracelet, formed my shield again as the door blasted open. Wind and ice punched into us. Several long icicles of glowing magic ice embedded themselves in my shield, and a few more buried themselves in the walls, floor, and ceiling.

  The ice that passed us crashed into the lattice and disappeared.

  “You want to walk into that?” I asked, raising my voice over the wind. “That looks fairly lethal.”

  “One second,” Monty said, flexing his jaw as he gestured again. “I will create an opening. When I do, we run in. Ready?”

  “Not really,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe we should call your uncle?”

  “Good idea,” Monty said, forming a large violet orb laced with golden energy racing across its surface. “But we don’t have that kind of time. Get ready!”

  Monty unleashed the large, violet and golden orb at the door. It raced down the hallway and then began to slow.

  “Is it supposed to do that?” I asked as the orb slowed to a near standstill. “Do you need to go give it a push?”

  “Figuratively speaking, yes.” Monty stepped close and placed a hand around the enso pendant. “This should do.”

  He outstretched his other arm and fired a column of violet energy at the large orb. For a few seconds, nothing happened. The orb swelled with energy, then sped past the threshold and into the ice storm.

  The storm raged for a few moments, intensifying, and then suddenly stopped.

  “Now! Run!” Monty yelled, taking off at speed toward the ice-storm door. “We won’t have much time.”

  We stepped inside the ice-storm room. Monty cast another lattice, sealing the entrance behind us. This room wasn’t covered in ice, but a thick, blue fog obscured visibility.

  “Do you see her?” I asked under my breath as I strained to see. “This fog makes it impossible to sense anything.”

  “Her presence is here, but I can’t pinpoint her location. I fear this room is very much like Dex’s room in our space.”

  “She’s hiding?”

  “Not necessarily,” Monty said. “She’s masking her signature to the point that she doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s called hiding. I can’t sense her in here.”

  “It’s more like camouflage…even you can do it, if you focused and controlled your breathing. It’s only a matter of blending your signature frequency wi
th your surroundings.”

  “Camouflage, another word for hiding—in plain sight.”

  “Humans are interacting waves, not physical beings,” Monty started, obviously in an attempt to melt my brain. “Waves cannot be separated, which means you are connected to everything. If you can attune your frequency to your surroundings, you can effectively disappear.”

  “So, what you’re saying is…I am one with the force and the force is with me?”

  “I get the impression you were dropped on your head often when you were a child,” Monty snapped. “It’s the only thing that can explain that much trauma and idiocy.”

  “It’s a gift,” I said with a mock bow. “Your Zillerfied explanation doesn’t help us find Cece, no matter what frequency she’s on.”

  He shook his head. “I have to say the size of this dimension is impressive. I underestimated her skill and ability.”

  “This is one of those time and relative dimensions in space situations, where it’s bigger on the inside—great. This place could be enormous. It’ll take forever to find her.”

  “She would have created something she knows, even unconsciously.”

  “This place does look vaguely familiar, like the cave we visited when we got the runic neutralizer.”

  “That’s it. Her shift must have created a pocket dimension shaped after the Jotnar home,” Monty said, turning slowly. “This is quite extraordinary. Her ability, even inadvertently, easily classifies her as a few shifts away from Archmage.”

  “I’m really glad you’re impressed,” I said. “Can we focus on finding Cece and stopping this before we’re buried in The Moscow, along with everyone else in the building?”

  “Good point,” Monty said with a nod. “Let me see if a tracking rune will—”

  “Welcome to your death, mage,” a voice boomed around us.

  “I think we found her,” I said. “Seems like she wants a word—with you. It’s strange, as I don’t remember little Cece sounding like James Earl Jones. Maybe she has a cold—you know, all this ice.”

  “That’s not Cecelia,” Monty said, turning in the direction of the voice. “Not entirely. I should’ve expected this.”

  “You should’ve expected Cece to sound like an older, middle-aged man? What do you mean, not entirely?”