Blood Is Thicker A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 3)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

 

  “Me either, boy. We’ll get something to eat soon, promise,” I said as we picked up speed.

  We rolled into Station Six a few minutes later. Monty gestured and the orb vanished. There was a distinct difference between Station Five and Station Six. There was no Station Master to greet us. Papers and trash covered parts of the platform. The walls were dingy and gray, and some of the light fixtures were broken. I noticed there was no blast door between Station Six and Seven. The rail car came to a stop in the center of the platform. A display on the railcar began counting down five minutes.

  “You know this is a trap, right?” I said, rubbing Peaches’ head as we waited. I looked forward into the darkness of the next tunnel. “There probably is no Wraith, and Nick will try and kill you and banish me. Or vice-versa.”

  “Most likely the latter,” Monty said with a nod. “He probably knows of your immunity to magic.”

  “Do we even know where to find this Wraith? It’s not like this place is small,” I said as the railcar lurched forward into another dark tunnel. Monty produced another light orb, and I could see this tunnel was in a greater state of disrepair than the one joining Station Five to Six. A few minutes later, we approached Station Seven.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem,” Monty said as we entered the station. “It seems we are expected.”

  He let go of the orb, and it floated high above us into the vaulted ceiling. I looked at the station and realized we had a welcoming committee.

  “What are those?” I said under my breath as we rolled to a stop. My nose tried to crawl off my face as the stench hit me. Even Peaches snuffled a few times as he rumbled in the direction of the group standing on the platform. It appeared to be a large group of homeless tunnel dwellers. Most of their clothing was tattered and dirty. Their faces were covered with strips of cloth, making it hard to see any clear features. “A little bit of disinfectant would work wonders down here. Do you have a disinfectant spell?”

  “No, I don’t,” Monty whispered back as he narrowed his eyes at the group on the platform. “Some of these are accomplished mages. If you could manage not to anger them for at least three minutes—I would be grateful and surprised.”

  “Let me work my charm,” I said, and Monty groaned. “I’ll make sure to keep it civil and we can get this all sorted out. You should’ve seen how I handled Hel.”

  “Hel has a sense of humor—twisted as it is. I don’t think these mages have any reason to laugh,” Monty said, stepping off the railcar and onto the platform. “Let me do the talking. At least that way when it goes awry I can see it coming.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘if it goes awry’?” I asked, standing next to him and opening my coat, making sure I had access to Ebonsoul.

  “With us it’s always a matter of when,” Monty said as the group fanned out into a defensive semi-circular formation.

  ELEVEN

  I COUNTED SIX on the welcoming committee. Two unleashed fireballs, which raced at us. They may have appeared to be homeless, but they moved with the precision of a trained fighting force. Monty slashed the air, and a glowing blue shield materialized in front of us. It deflected the fireballs into a wall.

  “I get the impression they don’t want to talk.” I drew Grim Whisper. “Maybe the Wraith is busy and this is his way of telling us to come back later?”

  “Don’t get too close to them, and keep him back,” Monty said, pointing at Peaches. “They have magic dampeners around this station.”

  “Which means?” I asked, looking around for the dampeners, without a clue what they looked like. “You just made a shield. Your magic is fine.”

  “I should have been able to absorb those fireballs. That shield took entirely too much energy,” Monty said, wiping sweat from his brow in between breaths. “It means—”

  “Bullets and blades. My kind of conversation,” I said, taking a step forward and reversing direction quickly as four of the tunnel dwellers whipped out guns of their own.

  “Theirs too, it seems,” Monty said as we backpedaled. “It looks like they have a larger vocabulary as well.”

  The rifles they held were large, mean-looking things, but it was hard to tell what they were carrying when we were busy jumping off the platform and onto the tracks, avoiding several more orbs followed by gunfire.

  “What kind of rounds are you carrying?” Monty asked as he gestured. A fireball formed in his hand and fizzled out a second later. “Bollocks, the dampeners are increasing in strength.”

  With a grunt and a nod, he pulled out two narrow cylinders about six inches long. They were covered in runes that glowed blue in the low light.

  “Considering where we are, I’m loaded out to deal with magic-users. I have persuaders, hollow points, and one magazine of entropy rounds.” I checked Grim Whisper. “No silver rounds, though.”

  Persuader rounds were designed to scramble neural networks. They were ideal for dealing with magic-users and normals alike. They hurt like hell but were non-lethal.

  When a round hit you, it caused your synapses to misfire all over the place. For mages, it meant no more spell-casting for a good ten minutes. It also made the target lose control of all bodily functions, and gave new meaning to the term “pissed-off mage.” Probably another reason the magic community disliked me.

  Monty looked at me as if I had gone insane. “Were you expecting a war?” He flicked his wrists, causing the cylinders to extend into thin batons that crackled with energy.

  “I told you this was a trap,” I said, making sure I had one round in the chamber. “When I see Nick, I’m going to introduce my boot to his nuts.”

  Monty nodded at my words. “I’ll take the mages, you handle the rest. Don’t kill them,” he said, and peeked over the platform. He ducked down quickly when gunfire erupted above us. Peaches growled next to me and entered ‘pounce and shred’ mode.

 

  “No, boy, you have to stay here,” I said, grabbing Peaches rapidly by the scruff of the neck. “You won’t be able to do your usual ‘blink out and bash’ move down here. They have runes in place to stop magic. Stay here.”

  I didn’t know how he did his disappearing thing, but I figured it was magic-based. I didn’t want to take a chance with the dampeners that he would blink out and not be able to come back. Or worse, not blink out at all and get shredded by their guns.

  He rumbled in response but stayed close. I turned to Monty, who was fishing in his pocket for something.

  “What do you mean don’t kill them?” I adjusted the sheath holding the Ebonsoul. “What do you think they’re trying to do with those bullets—give us a massage? What are you looking for?”

  “This.” Monty held up a small clear orb between two fingers. “A trap is only effective if you’re unprepared for it.”

  “Monty,” I said, with growing apprehension, “what is that?”

  “This is—well, this is a gravity well,” he whispered, with barely hidden admiration. From the tone, you would’ve thought I’d asked him about his favorite tea. “It’s really quite effective and—”

  “Again with the black hole?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you trying to kill us? Aren’t you in enough trouble with the Golden Circle?”

  “I said gravity well, not void vortex,” he explained, holding the orb closer to me. “This will multiply the force of gravity by several orders of magnitude when it goes off. They will be forced to the floor due to their increased weight.”

  “What about the dampeners? Won’t they stop it?”

  “No. This enhances something that is currently present—gravity,” he said, and gestured around the small orb. Several runes flared to life on its surface. “The same way magic doesn’t affect you, but if I use the same magic to slam you with a lorry, it will do considerable damage.”

  “Thank you for that visual,” I said, peeking over the platform
edge to see a hooded figure emerge from the group. “Looks like the Wraith wants to talk, after all.”

  “Tristan, don’t take this personally, it’s just business,” the hooded figure said. “I can’t have you going around asking questions about those rounds. Word will get back to my clients, and I can’t have that stain on my reputation.”

  “Wait a minute, that’s—” I started.

  “Nicholas, or should I call you Wraith?” Monty said, looking over the platform edge. “That was convincing theater earlier. I almost believed your act.”

  “You knew he was faking all along?” I asked as we climbed onto the platform. “Why didn’t you scorch him back at Market Central?”

  “Because he has information we need,” Monty answered, taking a few steps to the side. “You did say one truth, Nicholas. You didn’t make these rounds, but you do know who did. Do you want to tell me now, or later—after the pain?”

  Nick laughed and motioned to his dwellers. They fanned out and shrugged off their outer layers. The ones holding the rifles were wearing hi-tech body armor. The two mages formed orbs of flame in their hands. Around their necks, I noticed glowing pendants to match the one worn by Nick.

  “You have no power here, Tristan. The great Mage Montague will die on the dirty streets of the Market. Remembered by few and mourned by none,” Nick said, forming his own orb of flame.

  “Why not just attack us at Market Central? Why bring us out here? This is your place, after all,” I asked him, resting my hand on Ebonsoul. This was going to go magey any second and I wanted to be ready.

  “I needed to get you to the outer rings.” Nick pulled back his hood. “Out here I can deal with the two of you without interference from the Council. On my rings I am judge, jury, and executioner.”

  Monty threw the gravity well at Nick, who disappeared, but not before releasing his orb. The mages behind him blasted their orbs at us, and the station exploded into flame.

  TWELVE

  BEING IMMORTAL MEANS I don’t die. There’s no coverage in that condition for pain, though. I felt pain just like anyone else. I don’t enjoy it. Most of the time I tried to actively avoid situations with high pain potential.

  Working with an angry mage had a way of increasing the rate of those situations. The fact that Monty went around pissing off other magic-users wasn’t my fault. I grabbed Peaches and pressed the main bead on the mala as the group lifted their rifles and fired. Their bullets never reached us. I peeked around the shield and saw the group of tunnel dwellers unconscious and sprawled out on the platform.

  “That was clever,” Nick said from behind me. I turned half a second too late, as an orb of air slammed into my side, launching me across the station. Peaches leaped and landed on nothing as Nick disappeared again.

  “Monty, he’s plane-weaving,” I grunted from my side of the station. I winced in pain as I stood slowly. My body flushed hot as it began to repair the damage. “That pendant he’s wearing must be an amplifier of some kind.”

  Monty made his way over to the mages lying on the floor, and pulled off each of the pendants they wore. After a few seconds, he put them in his pocket and traced a rune in the air. Peaches disappeared a second later.

  “What happened? Where did Peaches go? Did your spell disintegrate him?”

  Monty held up a finger. “One second,” he said, removing the second pendant from the other mage. “He will be back momentarily.”

  Nick appeared in the station a few seconds later, and rolled on the ground with a very large, angry hellhound clamped onto his leg.

  “Let go of him, boy,” I said, and Peaches released Nick. I fired Grim Whisper several times. The reaction to the persuaders was immediate, and Nick started convulsing. After about a minute, his body calmed down. “I think Nick is going to stay with us for a moment, Monty. We can have that conversation now.”

  Peaches snuffled and padded away from the prone and pungent Nick.

  “I really hate you right now, Simon,” Nick slurred as he shifted into a seated position. “My clothes are ruined.”

  “Nick, don’t take it personally, it’s just business.” I holstered Grim Whisper. “It’s not like you tried to have us shredded or anything. Be thankful those weren’t entropy rounds.”

  “Entropy rounds? You wouldn’t dare—those are banned,” Nick answered indignantly.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said, reaching for my gun again. Monty stepped in front of me and crouched down to look at Nick. “Just let me shoot him—a little.”

  “Where did you get these runed rounds, Nicholas?” Monty said, ignoring me, and pulled out the LIT round to once again show it to Nick. “Allow me to present you with your options: You can answer me, I can let my partner shoot you again, or his pet can have you for a snack—your choice.”

  Monty reached down, removed the pendant from Nick’s neck and placed it in his pocket with the others.

  “I’m just a middleman.” Nick held up his hands. “Like you said, I don’t deal in contraband ammunition. It’s too much of a headache. Especially LIT rounds. Too much heat with those.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, drawing Grim Whisper, which caused him to scurry back away from me. “Let me shoot him again a few times.”

  “Nicholas,” Monty said, calmly holding up three fingers, “I only need three pieces of information from you. Who runed them? Who procured them? And how much were you paid?”

  “I’m telling you I don’t know who made them,” Nick said. Monty frowned, shook his head, and turned to me.

  “Simon, what do you think your creature will remove first…arms or legs?” Monty asked. “He’ll have to be treated for consumption of a toxic substance, but maybe if he takes small bites?”

  “Wait! Wait,” Nick pleaded. “You said three things. I can tell you the other two.”

  “The rounds were picked up by a group of Blood Hunters,” Nick said, the words tumbling out fast. His eyes never left Peaches, who rumbled at him. “I only spoke with one of them, but she was dangerous. They called her Stasi.”

  “How much did this Stasi pay for the rounds?” Monty said as he clenched his jaw. “It had to be enough for you to deal with the ‘heat’ of the Dark Council.”

  “It was.” Nick smiled. It was a greasy, slimy thing that made me want to shoot him again. “Oh, it was.”

  “How much?” I said, angry. “How much money did she give you?”

  “It wasn’t money,” Nick whispered, and looked away. “She paid in blood—vamp blood. Ten vials of it.”

  THIRTEEN

  “YOU’RE TRAFFICKING REDRUM? You filthy piece of—” I started, but Monty reacted faster than I did. Nick flew across the station, slamming into the far wall, cratering it.

  Nick slid down the wall in a crumpled heap. “What are you, a vamp-lover?” he groaned, spitting blood as he spoke. “They’re just vampires. They deserve to die.”

  I holstered Grim Whisper. Every part of me wanted to put an entropy round in his chest and call it a day. Monty must have sensed it because he stepped close to me. I stepped around him and approached Nick.

  “It was above board,” Nick said quickly, and wobbled to his feet. “I didn’t ask for it, but that’s what she gave me. It’s worth ten grand a vial on the street. She gave me ten vials just to hand over some rounds—so you do the math.”

  “Do you know how many people that poison has killed?” I said, trying to keep my rage in check. “I’m not going to waste a round on you, Nick. No, I’m going to make a call, and let the vampires know you’re carrying ten vials of Redrum. That should make them eager to pay you a visit. What do you think?”

  He visibly paled at my words. “Simon, c’mon, it’s just business,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Don’t do this. They’ll kill me.”

  “How do you think they got the ten vials, Nick?” I snapped back. “You think some vampire donated the blood?”

  “Do you know where the Blood Hunters are currently?” Monty asked as he placed a hand o
n my shoulder.

  Nick shook his head. “I can make this right. This is more trouble than its worth,” he said while he gestured. I drew Grim Whisper, and Monty moved faster than I could track. A lattice of golden energy fell over Nick and pinned him to the ground. “Here, take them. This is too much heat. There was no way I was going to be able to move them.”

  Nick held a small, ornate box in his outstretched hand. Monty removed it slowly. It was made of lapis lazuli and was elegantly designed with gold filigree on each of the corners. I could see the runes inscribed on its surface glowing softly.

  “This is a keepsaker box.” Monty examined the box for a few seconds before opening the lid. Inside, I could see the vials filled with a dark red, almost black liquid.

  Nick shrugged and slowly got to his feet as the lattice vanished. “That’s what she gave me, and I’m giving it to you.”

  “Nicholas,” Monty said, peering up to look at Nick, “the Council and the sects turn a blind eye because of the services you provide to the magic community. They consider you a necessary evil.”

  Nick nodded and bowed. “I try to be of service.”

  “If I find that you are dealing in this filth again—I won’t turn a blind eye,” Monty said, his voice steel. “I will come here and erase your little world, before handing you over to the Tribunal.”

  “No. No need,” Nick said hurriedly. “From now on I’ll stay away from that vile liquid—you have my word. I’ll only deal in the good illegal items, not the ones that can get me killed.”

  He stepped back, gestured, and disappeared along with the homeless dwellers. We stood alone on the station platform.

  “We’re back to square one,” I said with a sigh. “The Tribunal you threatened him with—isn’t that the same Tribunal after you for the void vortex?”

  “Your point?” he said, holding up the box. “We are going to have to use a circle to exit the Market.”

  I groaned. “I don’t think my body can take that trip. How about just leaving the way we came?”