“What are the odds of us getting out of there alive without destroying the building in the process?” I asked as Monty reached for one of his mage powerbars. “I really would like to avoid pissing off Julien.”
“We’re going there with an invitation,” Monty said after a few chews. “I could use a good strong cuppa. These bars taste like the bottom of a hamster cage. See if we can get one over there?”
“The invitation means squat, you know that,” I said, pulling off to the side in front of a small restaurant catering to the early morning crowd. “I thought sawdust was the main ingredient in those things?”
“If I tried to explain what is in these things, your brain really would melt,” Monty said, pointing at me with the half-eaten powerbar as he stepped out of the car. “The usual?”
I nodded as he went to get my coffee and his Earl Grey. I looked in the rear-view mirror, expecting to see Peaches sprawled in the back, before I remembered where he was. My stomach clenched for a second and I promised myself to repay the Blood Hunters in kind for skewering my leg with a blood arrow.
Monty came back a few minutes later, handing me my cup. I pulled out the flask from my jacket, pouring about a spoonful of the Valhalla Java in my coffee. It flared blue as it mixed with the liquid. I took a moment to savor the aroma of the enhanced coffee and then sipped the liquid ambrosia.
“And you talk about my fixation with tea?” Monty said, staring at me. “Have you seen yourself drinking coffee? It’s practically pornographic.”
“This is different. This”—I held up my cup—“this is the coffee of the gods—Valhalla Java,” I said, taking another sip before pulling the Goat off the curb. “You’re just drinking a bunch of boiled leaves. And you didn’t answer my question.”
Monty’s jaw flexed and I could tell the idea of going into the Foundry concerned him. “We need to speak to this Blood Hunter,” he said after sipping his tea. “If the Foundry was given as the meeting place, Julien knows. Nothing occurs within the walls of his domain without his approval. Implicit or not.”
I glanced sideways quickly. “Are you as strong as he is?” I asked. “I mean, you did level up so maybe you’re at his level?”
“It’s called a power shift, not leveling up,” Monty said, finishing his bar. “This isn’t a video game, and the answer is no. Julien is a few centuries older than I am and we are entering his home. A mage is always strongest in his home.”
“Can’t you just—I don’t know—tap into more power or hold some in reserve just in case you need it?”
He gave me the ‘are you really that dense?’ look and shook his head. “It’s a matter of resonance and energy alignment. Plus he probably has power modifiers and dampeners spread throughout the property,” Monty answered, pulling out the keepsaker.
I pulled up to the entrance of the Foundry and turned off the car. “Which means we’re screwed if this goes sideways,” I said, removing Grim Whisper and Ebonsoul. I placed my hand on the center panel between the seats and it slid back, revealing a large storage space. Monty placed the keepsaker in the space. I placed my weapons next to it.
No one entered the Foundry armed. If I brought both weapons I would have to leave them at the door with Claude. Since I didn’t trust Julien, Claude, or the Foundry, this was the best solution. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, followed by Monty. He pressed his hand on the Goat and it locked with a clang and orange flare.
“Let’s go talk to a Blood Hunter,” I said, stepping to the front gate.
TWENTY
CLAUDE STOOD AT the entrance of a large black iron fence.
“Fils de pute,” Claude spat when he saw us. “What do you want? We just finished renovations.”
“Look, Monty,” I said, pointing at Claude, “he sounds so happy to see us. My French is rusty, but that didn’t sound polite. Were you being rude?”
Claude glared at me and crossed his arms. He was a small man with piercing eyes who used his stature to his advantage. An accomplished mage and world-class assassin trained personally by Julien, no one underestimated Claude twice—if they survived the first encounter. We didn’t like each other much.
“Is Julien in?” Monty quietly asked, and I could feel the power coming off him. Claude must have sensed it too because I saw him stiffen and place his hand on his holster. “We need to have a word.”
I raised my hand and slowly pulled the black card from the Blood Hunter from my pocket. Claude was jittery, which made me think the Foundry was on some kind of alert. He looked at the card and his face darkened as he turned it over, reading the coordinates before handing it back to me.
“Merde,” he muttered under his breath, unlocking the gate. “Come with me.”
We stepped through the iron gate and my skin tingled. Behind the gate, a winding path led to the front of the large mansion. I saw the runic defenses inscribed on the ground on either side of the path as we crossed the threshold. I recognized the circles from my last visit to the Hellfire Club.
I nudged Monty. “That looks like an—”
“Oblivion circle, yes,” Monty whispered, narrowing his eyes. “These are especially lethal. Avoid them.”
“Good idea. I’ve been meaning to ask you…” I said as we walked along the path around the circles behind Claude, “is your vision getting worse?”
Monty looked at me with an expression of surprise. “My what?” he replied quickly. “What would make you think that?”
I shrugged. “Well, you’re pretty old and I’m seeing you squinting a lot lately,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing spectacles, or bifocals, or even trifocals, if you need them.”
“You do realize that mages can live over three millennia?” Monty said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My eyes are fine. The ‘squinting,’ as you call it, allows me to shift visual spectrums and view runic energy clearer.”
“I’m just saying, there’s no shame in getting old,” I reiterated with a squint in his direction. “I’m not an ageist. Clint has an excellent squint, as does Wolverine.”
“Your open-mindedness fills me with comfort, considering you will probably reach an age far surpassing mine,” Monty replied with a sigh.
Claude snorted derisively.
“You have something to say, Clyde?” I said, knowing he hated when I called him that. “Please share.”
He glared at me and took a deep breath before speaking. I liked to think I helped others work on their patience and tolerance. It’s my calling.
“Oui,” he nodded and glanced at Monty. “You are at most two or three centuries old?”
Monty gave him a brief nod. “Over two, not quite three,” Monty answered after a pause.
“Enfant de bas age,” Claude said with a sneer. “You are still a baby. Julien is four times your age. And dwarfs your power, even with your recent shift.”
“Well, this baby is still a kick-ass mage,” I shot back, angrily. “He’s faced serious threats and stopped them.”
Claude nodded. “Oh yes, a dragon and a deranged pack of wolves,” Claude said with mock seriousness. “Very dangerous to a child. The vortex, however, was quite creative—for an amateur. When will the Circle come for you?”
“Not to mention—” I started as Monty gave me a look, and it became clear. Claude was trying to goad me into giving away information. It almost worked and I shut up before I mentioned Chaos. We reached the main door. It was a huge wooden slab covered in symbols and was glowing faintly with runes.
“What do you wish to mention?” Claude asked suddenly.
“Just that Julien takes his security seriously,” I said as Claude stepped to the entrance and placed a hand on a panel. Several bolts could be heard sliding away from the door. “Why does someone so obviously powerful need so much protection? I mean, Julien is close to a thousand years old—what’s he scared of?”
The door opened with a slight creak from the weight of the wood. Claude stood to one side, giving me a stink-eye as we ent
ered. He opened a door adjacent to the main entrance.
“Julien fears no one and nothing,” Claude said as he led us through the foyer into a large room with walls of dark wood. The partially drawn blinds covered the floor-to-ceiling windows and allowed the morning light to cascade softly into the room, causing the polished wood to glisten.
“Well, that would explain all the security,” I said, taking in the runes that covered the floors and ceiling, most of which making no sense to me. Books lined the walls and several desks sat in the center of the spacious library.
“Maybe he should leave the doors open? Turn this place into a museum?”
“Your humor is—how you say—troll?” Claude said, giving me a sharp look.
“The word is droll,” I said and looked down at him as I spoke. “A troll is a short, stupid, mean creature that guards entrances and bridges, sort of like what you do, Clyde.”
He gave me a one-finger salute and proceeded to ignore me. Monty walked over to one of the walls, examining the book spines, and ignored Claude, who sensed the affront and bristled.
Monty wasn’t arrogant. It was mostly that he’s English and has little tolerance for stupidity and small-mindedness. Claude was both, wrapped in a dangerous package. Many mistook Monty’s aloofness as being unaware. They discovered with breath–stealing suddenness how fatal that assessment could be.
“Study is always good for a debutant,” Claude said with a self-satisfied smile. “I apologize that we do not have a children’s section in this library.”
“I agree.” Monty reached out and pulled one of the books from the shelf. “You have a copy of Ziller’s laws of Quantum Entanglement. This is quite rare.”
Claude responded with a short laugh. “I doubt a mage at your level can comprehend the complexities of that volume,” Claude replied, pulling out another book. “Perhaps this book is more to your understanding.”
He tossed the book on the desk near Monty. My hand reflexively moved to my holster before I remembered I’d left Grim Whisper in the car. Monty walked over to the desk and picked up the book.
“Ziller’s Rudiments of Spellcasting,” Monty said, examining the spine. “One should never forget the basics.”
“Basic,” Claude said, making the word sound like an insult. “That is what you are as a mage, Tristan—basic.”
“That will be enough, Claude,” a soft voice said from the doorway behind us. “I believe the front gate has been unmanned long enough.”
“Seigneur, pardonne moi,” Claude said quickly. He placed his right fist over his heart and bowed. “I shall return at once.” Claude brushed past us and left the library without another word.
Monty slid up to me and put a hand on my arm. “Whatever you do, don’t call him—” he whispered as Julien approached the room.
“Jules!” I said with a smile as Julien entered the library. “Good morning. Any chance Clyde can get us some coffee?”
Julien stepped farther into the library. His thin frame wore a black Amosu Vanquish Bespoke over a gray Eton shirt. He was barefoot, as usual. In fact, I had never seen him wear shoes. He reminded me of Gandalf—in a suit. His long white hair, usually loose, was in a braid today.
“You must forgive Claude,” Julien said as he motioned to the wait staff behind him with a nod of his head. “He is zealous in his protection of me and this place, but he has lost some of his social graces over the years.”
“Some?” I snapped back. “He has no social grace. Maybe you should change his name to something more fitting, like Connard?”
Julien winced as he looked at me with a tight smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning? Did Claude mention we just finished renovations?”
“Why do you keep bringing up renovations?” I asked, looking around. “We aren’t interior decorators.”
“I disagree,” Julien replied with a nod. “Tales of your destructive redecorations precede you. I believe Haven is undergoing repairs as we speak?”
“That wasn’t our fault,” I said, looking away. “Well, it was mostly not our fault.”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Julien answered. “I would prefer if you refrained from your destructive demolitions while you visit—if possible.”
I produced the card left by the Blood Hunters. Julien took it, read the front, and turned it over. He handed it back to me, his face expressionless.
“She is not here,” he said after a few seconds. “Your vampire is not on the premises.”
“I really hope that’s true,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “I would hate to find out you had something to do with her kidnapping.”
Julien gave me a predatory smile, and my blood froze. “Do not threaten me, Simon,” he said, his voice full of quiet menace. “I will erase everything and everyone you hold dear and make you watch while I do it.”
“Am I supposed to be scared right now?” Actually, I was close to losing bladder control. If there was a person who could make that threat and keep it, it was Julien.
“Your recklessness along with your poor self-control will get you killed one day, Simon,” Julien whispered, staring at me.
“Where is the Blood Hunter?” I said when I found my voice again. I really had to stop pissing off people who could squash me with a thought. “And why is she here?”
“I am a facilitator,” he answered and removed a cup from the tray on the desk. He gestured for us to do the same. I grabbed a cup of coffee while Monty picked up the tea. I noticed he didn’t drink any. “They wanted somewhere to meet where they could feel safe. The Dark Council neutral zones made them uncomfortable.”
“Especially when you attack the leader of the Dark Council and then kidnap her,” I said after sipping my coffee. “I would be uncomfortable too.”
“Please, follow me.” Julien led us out of the library and up a grand staircase to the second floor. “It is my understanding that this is to be an even exchange,” Julien said as he headed down the central hallway. A set of double doors waited for us at the far end.
“They want something called the dark blades,” I said once we reached the doors. “Do you know what they are?”
“You don’t?” Julien answered, giving me a curious look. “This isn’t recognized neutral ground. That being said, as sovereign of the Foundry it is my responsibility to inform you that an attack on the premises constitutes an act of aggression and will be dealt with harshly. You are here to have a conversation—not a battle.”
“What if they attack first?” I said, knowing that this conversation could go either way. “What is the protocol? Just in case.”
Julien stared at me for a good ten seconds. “All parties involved in the aggression will be terminated, just in case,” Julien said, nodding at the doors. They slid open silently as he disappeared.
TWENTY-ONE
MONTY AND I entered what appeared to be a sitting room except in extra-large. The same wood from the library adorned the interior of this room. Large chaise lounge chairs sat on either end of the room next to the walls. In the center of the room, several smaller lounge chairs were positioned around a table. An immense fireplace dominated one wall with a loose semi-circle of smaller chairs facing it.
Runes covered the four walls, ceiling, and floor. They flowed and slid over the surfaces, a moving mosaic of energy and power. Julien really was serious about his security.
Near the fireplace stood a woman dressed in what appeared to be a black bodysuit. It was overlaid with sections of ballistic armor that covered parts of her body. Her face, neck, and arms were covered with some kind of camouflage paint. It gave the impression of being dipped in black ink. Her black hair was cut short on the sides and spiky on the top. I did a quick scan and noticed the absence of weapons. She gazed at us, doing her own threat assessment, and approached the center of the room. The way she moved told me that she was lethal—armed or not.
I tossed the card on the table. “Where is Michiko?”
“I see you mana
ged to keep your leg,” she answered, picking up the card. “Where are the blades?”
I reached reflexively for Grim Whisper again before I remembered it was in the car. “That was you,” I said, flexing my jaw and wishing I had my weapons.
She nodded with a small bow. “We needed to keep you occupied while we extracted the head of the Dark Council,” she answered and threw the card back on the table. “I looked forward to your explosion. Defeating a blood arrow means you have some skill.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I answered as the anger unspooled inside of me. “You should’ve aimed higher.”
“Next time, I will,” she said, crossing her arms. “Did you bring the blades?”
“I need to see Michiko first.” I stepped to the right of the table and kept the fireplace on my left. “How do I know she’s still alive?”
She sniffed the air. “You smell like her,” she said, looking me over and narrowing her eyes. Her voice had a slight accent I couldn’t place. “You are not dead or alive. You are her thrall?”
“Her what?” I asked, taking a step forward. “Where is she?” I felt Monty step close to me as the anger rose.
“Who are you?” Monty asked, placing a hand on my arm. “Name and rank.”
“I am Estilete. You may call me Esti,” she said, still looking at me. “Second to Anastasia Anyxia Santiago, leader of the Cazadoras Sangrientas. And you are?”
“Tristan Montague of the Golden Circle,” Monty answered with a nod. “Why are the Blood Hunters in this city, Esti?”
“The dark blades, Mago.” She stepped to the side and held up two fingers. “Stolen by the Karitori-fu—the reaping wind, during the war. We traced them here and demand their return.”
“You would risk war with the vampires and the Dark Council over these blades?” Monty stepped to the side and kept himself bladed to her position. I was in the center of an intricate dance of positioning.
Karitori-fu—the reaping wind—was the name given to the terror of night in Medieval Japan. Tales of her exploits became legends. I was sure they still used stories of her in Japan to make children behave. The Karitori-fu was a combination of the bogeyman, the monster under your bed, and every creature that inhabited the night rolled into one—except it was real. Michiko used the name during the Supernatural War.
Blood Is Thicker A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 3) Page 9
