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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

 

  I was about to answer, but I didn’t have a good response. Peaches the Hellhound Zen Master had outmaneuvered me. I blamed the lizard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  “Strong!” Ramirez yelled when he saw me. “Get over here!”

 

  TWENTY-THREE

  We made our way through the bustle of activity to the command vehicle.

  “Took you long enough,” Ramirez said, smoothing out a map on the small table. “Where’s Tristan?”

  Personnel moved around us, managing the cordon and response teams.

  “I dropped him off a few blocks away,” I said, looking at the map. “He’s tackling this—”

  “A few blocks away?” Ramirez asked, his voice booming through the vehicle. “The monster is not a few blocks away, it’s over here!”

  I gave him a look and waited for him to calm down. It usually took a few seconds before he calmed down enough to listen. The command vehicle had become deathly still in response to his outburst.

  “Everybody out,” I said in a voice that gave no other option. “I need to speak to the Director alone for a few.”

  Everyone hesitated until Angel gave them a slight nod, at which point they poured out of the vehicle in a rush.

  “Strong—” Ramirez started.

  “I don’t work for the NYTF”—I pointed a finger at his chest—“and neither does Monty or Peaches.”

  “I know, I’m so—”

  “Then, tell me what the hell has you so stressed out that you think screaming at me is going to fix the situation, Angel?”

  “It’s the job, Strong. I’m sorry I yelled at you. This job has me wound up.”

  “You’ve been doing this for years. What are you talking about? You’re the best Director the NYTF has had. Your people love you, or at least tolerate you, although, maybe it’s just the fear of your big mouth at this point?”

  “Hilarious. Maybe you should go tell the rock beast jokes?” Ramirez answered with half a smile. “I care too much.” He rubbed his face with one massive hand. “I’m stressed because they’re facing creatures no one in their right mind should have to face. I’m seeing NYTF personnel crack under the pressure, quit the force and need years of therapy.”

  “They knew what they signed up for,” I said, remembering Monty’s earlier words about Bangers and Mash. “You didn’t force them to join the NYTF.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that this job…it breaks you. Small cracks at first. You see things you think are impossible, day after day, until it becomes normal—then one day, you see something that blows all that away and you begin to question your sanity, or think you need to take matters into your own hands, like Rott did.”

  “Rott also lost Cassandra. That’s what pushed him over the edge.”

  “He was on the edge long before the Lieutenant checked out. She was just the final straw.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned. “Do you need to take some time off? Do you feel yourself cracking?”

  “Do I sound like I need to take some time off?” Ramirez growled, pounding the table. “I only feel like I’m cracking when I have to deal with you and your people.”

  “You do sound a little tightly wound up,” I said. “How are those bowel movements? Maybe what you need is a laxa—”

  “What I need, is for you and your MIA mage to stop that rock thing out there from putting my people and city in danger. That’s what I need.”

  “Right, that, and a large dose of valium—extra chill.”

  “Do not push me, Strong. Tonight is not the night.”

  “You sound like the irritable pain in the ass you’ve always been,” I said, looking at the map again. “Maybe we all just need a vacation from the madness.”

  “Vacation? I won’t hold my breath.”

  Another explosion rocked through the night.

  “I hear the destruction, but where is it?”

  Ramirez turned to look out of the command vehicle.

  “Stop loitering and get back to work!” Ramirez yelled. “We have a creature to contain. Make sure the area is clear of normals, and I want roadblocks for a mile in both directions. No one gets in.”

  His people poured back into the command vehicle.

  “I can see why they love you,” I said, watching them execute the orders. “Must be that smooth motivational management style you have.”

  “Shove it, Strong. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “Right now? Hope that thing didn’t hear your big mouth and come crush us,” I said, rubbing my ear. “Show me where Rocky is.”

  He put a large sausage of a finger on the map.

  “There,” Ramirez said. “That thing is right there, for now. Nothing we’ve thrown at it has worked or even slowed it down.”

  “I’m expecting someone. When she gets here, tell your men to let her through and pull your people back. I don’t want them getting hurt—or worse.”

  “Does she know what’s she’s doing? Is she a mage?”

  “She’s qualified, trust me. Where’s Bangers and Mash?”

  “Central EMTe bus,” Ramirez pointed to the blue ambulance near the command vehicle. It was the one closest to the main command. There were three more of the same in the area, in addition to other NYTF first responder vehicles. “Frank is with them.”

  “He’s still working?” I asked. “I thought he’d be retired by now.”

  “He said he couldn’t retire while your agency still operated in the city,” Ramirez said. “Something about being the only thing that stood against a menace to society and complete Armageddon.”

  “Everyone is a comedian,” I said, leaving Ramirez and the command vehicle. “Get your people back now. My backup should be here any second. I’m going to go check on the rookies.”

  “You heard the man,” Ramirez boomed. “Pull our people back.”

  EMTe stood for EMT elite. The NYTF used these paramedics whenever they encountered some kind of supernatural disaster, or when Monty was allowed to run rampant, which in their opinion was pretty much the same thing these days, especially after our last run in with the Dark Council Enforcers.

  The medics all wore dark-red uniforms and drove around in extra-large, blue, rune-covered ambulances. I had the utmost respect for them—they were the Navy Seals of the paramedics.

  The veterans, which in the EMTe meant anyone lasting longer than a year, were tough as two-day-old steak and were willing to risk their lives, no matter the situation. Some of them had magical healing abilities, and all of them possessed a certain sensitivity to supernatural phenomena.

  In the back of the central bus, I saw Frank, working on Bangers.

  Frank defined grizzled: older, mid-sixties, built like a wall and probably as tough. He was the oldest EMTe still in the field and was affectionately known as the OG. I’d thought that meant “old gangsta”, but one of the other EMTe medics informed me it meant “original geezer.”

  Next to Bangers, I saw Mash, freshly bandaged from his run-in with the golem. They were not having a good night.

  “Hey, Frank,” I said, peeking into the bus. “What’s shaking?”

  “Knew it was only a matter of time before I saw your ugly face,” Frank answered without looking up. “How was the land of the rising sun?”

  “Painful,” I said, giving Bangers and Mash the once over. “What happened to these two?”

  “These two rocket scientists decided to tangle with that thing—and lost,” Frank said around an unlit cigar. “This one is lucky to be alive. If he hadn’t been
wearing that”—Frank pointed to a heavy-duty Kevlar vest that had been shredded—“we’d be reading last rites right about now.”

  “Are you saying they’re unfit to face that thing?”

  “Unfit?” Frank said. “No, no, I’m not saying they’re unfit.”

  Bangers looked at me with a smug expression as if to say: See? Even the medic thinks we can do this. Take that! At least he had the mage arrogance down pat.

  “Go on,” I said, raising a finger, knowing Frank was just getting started. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “These two asshats need to be on the first bus to Haven. It’s not that they’re unfit—they’re suicidal,” Frank spat. “This one”—he pointed to Bangers—“rushed the rock thing with the equivalent of a lit match. His partner, Einstein over there, instead of running for cover, decided to back him up. That rock thing nearly crushed the stupidity out of both of them tonight.”

  “Which bus is next?” I asked, observing Bangers and Mash. “The next one out?”

  “This one,” Frank said. “I’m driving, and we’re out in two minutes.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Let me have a word with them.”

  “Good luck. They wanted me to patch them up so they could go back out to their funeral,” Frank said. “Pair of idiots if you ask me. Two minutes, Strong.”

  Frank stormed off. He sounded upset, but I’d known him long enough to understand that his anger was really out of concern for Bangers and Mash. He didn’t want them to throw their lives away, and if I had anything to do with it, they wouldn’t. First, though, we were going to get to the truth.

  “Let’s make this brief, because we don’t have time,” I said, looking at Bangers. “There’s no way you studied in the Golden Circle. Hell, I doubt you even know where it is.”

  “How dare you question my—” Bangers started.

  “I’m not done,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m sure you mean well, but all you’re going to do tonight is die—and take your associate with you. And you”—I said, looking at Mash—“ex-Navy Seal my ass. Don’t even try to deny it. No self-respecting Frogman would partner up with a pretend mage.”

  “I am a mage,” Bangers admitted. “I never trained at the Golden Circle and never got past basic casting, but I am a mage…an apprentice, really.”

  “And you?” I said, looking at Mash. “What’s your story?”

  “Mess,” Mash said. “I worked with Navy Seals…in the mess hall.”

  “You’re a cook?”

  “I fed the Navy Seals.”

  “You realize feeding Navy Seals doesn’t make you one? Not even close?”

  Mash nodded, embarrassed.

  “I have to say, you two have to be the most fearless pair of clowns I’ve ever encountered,” I said, shaking my head. “Your mission is over—right now.”

  “What makes you so qualified to face the creature?” Bangers asked, indignantly. “What makes you think you can face it?”

  “A valid question—one which I will indulge, because well...because I don’t want to see you two as bloody smears on the streets of my city.”

  I extended my arm and let the silvery mist extend from my hand, forming Ebonsoul a second later. They both looked on in shock.

  “Is that all—you can summon a knife?” Bangers asked, the surprise evident in his voice. “I’m not impressed.”

  I pulled up a sleeve and ran Ebonsoul gently across my forearm, creating a large gash.

  “What are you doing?” Mash said, concerned. “Robert, get the medic!”

  “How?” Bangers asked when he started seeing the wound heal itself. “You’re not a mage.”

  Mash opened his eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

  Frank reappeared at the rear of the bus.

  “Did you convince them?” Frank asked. “Or do I need to”—he cracked his knuckles—“use my sedative?”

  I jumped out of the bus.

  “I think they understand now,” I said, rolling down my sleeve. “Tell Roxanne to keep them on lock-down until this situation is resolved. I don’t want them getting caught in the middle of a rock and a hard place.”

  “Got it,” Frank said, closing the rear doors on the still shocked Bangers and Mash. “They mean well. They just don’t know what they don’t know, which will get them dusted out here.”

  I nodded as I heard a car come to a skidding halt, just outside the cordon.

  “That’s my backup,” I said. “You take care of yourself, old man.”

  “Look who’s talking. You’re probably older than me.”

  “You know too much, OG.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Frank answered with a wink, chewing his cigar. “Go do what you need to do. Don’t get dead.”

  “That’s the plan. Make sure Roxanne keeps those two in Haven for a few days.”

  “I’m sure she will. You watch yourself out there.”

  Frank jumped into the cab of the bus, started the engine and turned on the lights as he sped out of the area.

  Ursula walked up to me a second later, her arm covered in a silver mist. She was about to materialize her weapon.

  “You ready for this?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I said, switching out my magazine for entropy rounds. “Never stopped me before.”

  “I hope you have something stronger than bullets.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, holstering Grim Whisper. “I’m just full of surprises.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  We headed to the location Ramirez had indicated on the map.

  “Which direction did Tristan go?” Ursula asked, materializing her hammer as we closed on the golem. “The nexus point is over there.”

  I glanced over at Ursula, who led the Decons and Magical Nulls—Elite Division, or DAMNED. It was a team made up of a group of Weres.

  This was the group tasked with safeguarding the city’s nexus points, maintaining the balance of runic energy to prevent destabilization, and removing any potentially lethal residual traces.

  They were the first and last line of defense when it came to maintaining the network of points intact. Ursula, who was a werebear, was a tall, heavyset woman with short black hair, and the physique to match any Olympic powerlifter. Tonight, she was wearing a black dragonscale T-shirt, jeans, and combat boots.

  Down the length of one arm, the intricate pattern of runes gave off a dull golden light. Her presence commanded respect, which was due in part to the massive, rune-covered hammer she held in one hand, hefting it without any measurable effort.

  “I dropped him off north of here. I’m guessing he’s going to approach the golem and then circle around to find the mage controlling it.”

  “And we’re going to play tag with it,” Ursula said with a smile. “This is going to be interesting.”

  “Listen,” I said, raising a hand. “I understand this may be hammer time for you, but I’m not looking to get pancaked tonight. We stop this thing, or at least distract it from destroying your nexus point; but if it gets dicey, we pull back and regroup.”

  “No,” Ursula said. “My responsibility is to the nexus points and keeping them intact. If even one is destroyed, the integrity of the entire network is compromised. That is a bad thing—stuff of your worst nightmares bad. If you need to cut and run, I get it. I’m pretty the hellhound and I can do what needs to be done.”

  “First off, I don’t ‘cut and run’ unless a strategic retreat is required, in which case, staying alive to fight another day is a sound strategy. Second, Peaches stays with me. If I go, he goes…with me.”

  “Makes sense,” she said with a wide grin. “Someone has to keep the immortal safe, I guess.”

  “You’re worse than Monty,” I said. “No one has to keep me safe. All I’m saying is let’s not rush into this without thinking.”

  “Relax, Strong,” Ursula said. “I’m just yanking your chain. I’m serious about the points, though. I won’t…can’t
abandon a point in danger of being destroyed, so we better make sure this thing doesn’t get close to the nexus point.”

  “Understood,” I said, “We’ll keep it safe.”

  “Good,” she said, looking down at Peaches. “Will he be okay?”

  “Peaches is nearly indestructible, but I’m not playing tag with anything tonight. We get its attention and pull it behind a building if possible, to give Monty a chance to find the mage—if not, we get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “I’m not letting it destroy a nexus point,” Ursula said, her smile gone. “If it manages that, we’re going to have worse things than a golem to deal with—trust me on that.”

  “Where exactly is this hub, just so I know where to do my Gandalf Balrog move?”

  “Your what?” Ursula asked, looking at me like I had grown an extra head. “Can you say that in English?”

  “You know, ‘You…Shall Not…pass’?” I asked, spreading out my arms in my best imitation of Gandalf blocking the Balrog. “The Fellowship of the Ring? You’ve never read Tolkien?”

  “Who?” Ursula asked. “Is he joining us tonight? Because from the feel of this thing, we may be here a while.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never read—never mind. If we get through this, I’ll make sure to fix that. Where is the hub?”

  “Bowling Green. The structure is somewhat in-between like all nexus points, but it connects to our plane at Bowling Green, not far from here.”

  “Got it, we can’t let it get to Bowling Green.”

  “Is this Tolkien person joining us?” Ursula asked. “Because I’m sensing a serious energy signature.”

  “Only in spirit,” I said. “This one is all us tonight. Well, us and your team, of course—how many did you say were on your team?”

  “Two more.”

  “Two more what? Two dozen, two hundred?”

  “Two,” she held up two fingers. “Just two more.”

  “Me, Monty, Peaches, and you and your team of three,” I said. “Against an unstoppable rock thing and a psycho mage?”

  Ursula nodded with a grin. “Nothing is unstoppable.” She turned in the direction of the golem. “I almost feel sorry for them.”