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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “You’re going to have to stop terrorizing him before Olga decides to ban your dog from the building,” Monty said, looking at the keepsaker. “A petrified doorman is poor security.”

  “You have a point,” I said as I jumped on the Westside Highway and headed to the Hellfire. “Do you think Erik is going to help us? We didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms last time I was there.”

  “You mean you didn’t leave on the best of terms,” Monty replied, touching different sides of the box. “He and I have no issues. Besides, we won’t be using the gates today.”

  “We won’t?” I said, surprised, and swerved around a taxicab, one of our city’s finest yellow kamikazes. “I thought everyone used the gates—no exceptions?”

  “I’m not seeking entrance into the club,” Monty said, pulling out his phone. “I need to speak to Erik personally.”

  “The last time I needed to speak to him personally, I had to go through the gates,” I said, taking the exit that would lead us to City Hall.

  “You aren’t capable of reducing his club to rubble, although you did set off all of his defenses,” Monty said, and almost smiled.

  “That wasn’t me,” I countered. “That was your psycho mage friend, Quan.”

  “Whom you pissed off.” Monty gestured quickly. A small violet orb floated in front of him. “It’s possible Erik just doesn’t like you.”

  “Technically she was pissed off at you and set off all of the defenses.” I glanced at the bright orb. “What’s that?”

  “This is how we get Erik’s attention.” Monty let the orb float out of the window. “Take us to the main entrance.”

  It was early afternoon and traffic was light as we approached the rear of the building. I parked the car near the kiosk I’d used last time. I locked the Goat with the usual clang and orange flare of runes across its surface.

  In front of the kiosk stood a woman dressed in a skintight, black-and-white checkered costume. Her face was hidden behind a black mask. The mask was a combination of tragedy and comedy. She bowed with a flourish and twirled the pair of rune-covered tonfas she held when I approached. This was one of the Harlequins—protectors of the Hellfire.

  She stood to one side of the large, rune-inscribed circle that rested at the top of the stairs. In order to get into the Hellfire you needed to step in that circle—no exceptions. We stepped in. I adjusted the sword case, and prepared for digestive torture.

  “He’s expecting me,” Monty said with a bow, pointing to Peaches and me. “They are with me.”

  The Harlequin returned the bow and slammed both tonfas into the ground. The circle we stood in flared to life. A second later, we stood at the foot of a flight of stairs that led to a large wooden door. The next second, the nausea gripped me, and my breakfast threatened to eject itself. I hated teleportation. It always had the effect of twisting my insides out. Monty and Peaches, however, looked unbothered.

  I leaned against a wall and recovered. At the top of the stairs stood three Harlequins. Two of them bookended the door. The third stood directly in front of it. Monty bowed to the Harlequin in the center. She returned the bow and waved a hand in the air.

  “Welcome, Mage Montague,” she said with a flourish. “He is expecting you.”

  The Harlequins weren’t window-dressing. According to Monty, they were handpicked and trained by Erik into an elite security force. Each of them was an accomplished mage and could wield their runed tonfas with deadly efficiency. In other words, if you followed the rules, you left Hellfire alive; if you broke them, they broke you.

  The large wooden door opened into Erik’s office. I stood there dumbfounded and a little angry, remembering the gates I had to pass the last time I was here.

  Erik sat in an oversized chair behind his large desk and waited as we entered. A Harlequin closed the door behind us. Two more Harlequins bookended his desk. The office, though large, felt inviting. Bookshelves filled with books covered every wall. I looked around, noticing that the collection and the shelf space had grown.

  “Don’t piss him off—yet,” Monty whispered as we approached the two large wingback chairs facing the desk. Peaches padded silently next to me. “He can help us find your vampire.”

  Erik looked up from a pile of papers and gave us a tight smile. He was dressed in a dark suit, which mages seemed to favor, with a crisp white shirt and no tie. He waved a hand and the Harlequins left the room silently.

  “This isn’t a good time, Tristan, as I’m sure you’re aware,” Erik said once the Harlequins were gone. “Please, sit.”

  “Do you know where she is?” I asked, refusing to sit in the wingback. I heard Monty sigh next to me as he sat down.

  “And hello to you too, Simon,” Erik replied, sitting back in his chair. “Your decorum never ceases to amaze.”

  “Answer the question,” I said, clenching a fist. Peaches rumbled next to me, sensing my agitation. “Do you?”

  “Of course I know where she is,” Erik said and threw his hands up. I flinched and my hand reflexively moved to rest on Grim Whisper. Mages and gestures are a dangerous combination. “Getting to her is another matter entirely.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “WE NEED HER location,” Monty said quietly as he reached in a pocket and pulled out the keepsaker. He placed it on the desk and pushed it forward. “The Blood Hunters are using these to store the blood they harvest.”

  “No.” Erik reached over and picked up the keepsaker. “This one”—he pointed at me—“will try to rescue her and get everyone killed in the process,” Erik said, turning the box. “The Blood Hunters are not a small group of psychopaths, they are an army of psychopaths with one driving purpose: the elimination of vampires. You don’t reason with them, you don’t appeal to their sense of right and wrong. They are relentlessly driven to achieve one goal. Nothing can stop them except their own annihilation. I don’t care how immortal you think you are”—Erik pointed at me again—“or how powerful you may be after your shift, Tristan. Neither of you is immune to the explosive properties of their blood arrows.”

  “I need you to set up a meet with their leader, Erik,” I said in an even tone, surprising myself, and apparently Monty who glanced over at me. “I need to meet with Anastasia.”

  Erik placed the box on the desk and shot me a look. “How did you get that name?” he asked, steepling his fingers and leaning back in his chair. “Who have you spoken to?”

  “We met with her second, Esti, at the Foundry,” Monty answered. “We didn’t get to finish the conversation.”

  “It was you two at the Foundry, I should’ve known. No wonder Julien is livid.”

  “Esti and her knives are partly to blame for that,” I added quickly. “She tried to convince us to hand over the dark blades.”

  “And yet you’re still breathing? Amazing.” Erik shifted some papers around. “She is the most dangerous of the Blood Hunters. If she led them, we would be at war right now.”

  “We have something they want.” I tapped the case. “They have someone we want. It’s a simple exchange.”

  “You don’t get it, Simon,” Erik said, pulling up a sheet. “Michiko is as good as dead. They aren’t going to trade with you. They will take the blades, find a way to kill all of you and then systematically cleanse the city of vampires.”

  “We need your help,” I said after a pause. “Just tell me where they are and set up the meet.”

  “I’m on the Council,” Erik said, standing. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

  “I know the Council won’t act, in fact some of them want her out of the way, but you aren’t one of them,” I answered and looked him in the eyes. “You aren’t her enemy and you understand the shitstorm that’s coming if they remove her. Just tell me where she is and we’ll take it from there.”

  Erik walked over to one of the bookcases. “Shit,” he muttered, looking at Monty. “Is he always this difficult?”

  “Only when he’s awake,” Monty said and nodded sag
ely. “Can you do it?”

  “I’m going to need that,” Erik said, pointing at the case holding the katana. “Anastasia won’t agree otherwise.”

  Monty rubbed his chin. “How long will it take to set up the meet?” he asked, looking at the case. “I need to take some precautions.”

  “A few hours,” Erik answered. “She isn’t exactly the trusting type. They will want to see and test the blade before meeting.”

  “That should give me enough time,” Monty said, taking the case from my hands. “In the meantime, I need to go to the Sanctuary.”

  “It’s clear that your exposure to Simon has addled your senses,” Erik said, shaking his head. “Enjoy your trip. Give my regards to the Elders—who, if my sources are correct, want you dead.”

  “I need the Hellfire as an anchor,” Monty said, looking at Erik. “I need you to open a portal there.”

  Erik let out a deep breath. “You want me to open a portal to the Sanctuary?” Erik raised his voice and pointed at Monty. I felt the energy in the room increase. He was getting agitated, which was always a bad thing for a mage. “Do you really think I’m suicidal? Fuck no, Tristan. The moment I do, they’ll assume I had something to do with a certain dead Arbiter. How dare you come in here demanding—?”

  “I’m not demanding,” Monty replied quietly. “I’m asking as a friend.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.” Erik sat down at his desk again. He poured himself a small glass of the clear liquid he kept in a decanter on his desk. “This is worse than asking where Michiko is.”

  “I wouldn’t think of imposing on you this way, but they’re sending the Ghosts.” Monty let the words hang in the air. “I need to know why they would go that far.”

  Erik poured himself another glass of the liquid. “Shit, Tristan, just go home,” Erik whispered. “Face them and resolve this.”

  “No,” Monty said, his voice steel. “Now you don’t know what you’re asking. This is the only way.”

  Erik closed his eyes, rubbed his face, and let out a sigh. “How many are traveling?” Erik said, making a gesture. Red trails followed his fingers. “I’m going to have to bring in a specialist.”

  “Three: Simon, his creature, and myself,” Monty said, standing. “Aria would be perfect for this.”

  “Thought this all out, have you?” Erik answered and scowled. “Of course she would be perfect for this, she’s a bloody Smith. I hate your scheming, manipulative, arrogant ass right now, Tristan.”

  “I’m in your debt,” Monty said, and then he gestured. A golden orb floated from his fingers and landed on the desk, disappearing as it did. “If you ever need my assistance, call me.”

  “Tristan, that wasn’t necessary,” Erik whispered, shaking his head. “But thank you. The workshop is available for your precautions. I’ll let you know when Aria and the portal are ready.”

  “What was that?” I asked as we left Erik’s office, escorted by Harlequins. “The gold orb? I’ve never seen that.”

  The Harlequins led us down several corridors. We bypassed the dungeons and so avoided the acts of consensual erotic torture. We came to a small empty rune-covered room filled with worktables. One side of the room held beakers and liquids while the other was filled with worn books. It reminded me of every science classroom I sat in during high school.

  Monty placed the sword case on one of the tables and opened it, revealing the katana—kokutan no ken. The black blade shimmered in the bright light of the workshop. Monty narrowed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up and shifting his gaze to one of the Harlequins.

  “I’m going to need a sword similar to this one, with a matching case,” Monty said to the Harlequin. “I’m sure Erik has one in his armory.”

  They bowed and silently stepped out of the room. Monty took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He removed the sword from the case and placed it on the table.

  “The orb you saw is called an invoker,” Monty said, gesturing over the blade.

  “And it does…?” I asked, staying on the blunt side of the incredibly sharp sword. “And why do you need another sword?”

  “If Erik ever needs my help, he can use it to summon me from wherever I may be,” Monty said as he placed his hands on the hilt.

  “Like a genie?” I asked, feeling the increase of runic energy build up around the room. I noticed the door was locked—from the outside. “What if you’re in the bathroom? Or with Roxanne?”

  “It requires my consent,” Monty said, giving me a ‘don’t be dense’ look. “I’m not some demon to be summoned into a circle. That being said, it’s poor form to refuse an invocation once summoned.”

  The door to the workshop opened and a Harlequin entered, holding another case. She placed it on the table, bowed again, and left. I heard the locks securing the door.

  “Why are they locking the door?” I asked, looking around. “It’s not like we’re trying to escape.”

  “Anytime this workshop is in use, that door is locked, especially when a high level spell is being performed,” Monty answered and removed the second sword from its case. It looked identical to kokutan no ken except this black blade was naked of runes.

  “Do I really need to be in here?” I asked, acutely aware of the size the room. The lack of cover provided by the thin tables heightened my feelings of exposure. “I could always scrounge up some food for Peaches.”

 

  “When couldn’t you?” I said, looking down at him. “He definitely agrees with my plan of finding food—outside of this room.”

  Monty placed the two swords side by side. “They won’t unlock the door until I finish.” Monty adjusted the blades so they were exactly next to each other. “This isn’t a transmutative spell. The potential for mishap is great if you don’t let me concentrate.”

  “That’s great, but it would help if I understood the words coming out of your mouth.” I began arranging the tables to provide some kind of cover. “If it’s not a mutation then what is it?”

  “Transmutation,” Monty answered, still focused on the blades. “It means I can’t make an exact copy of this dark blade. It’s too old and imbued with too much power. I’m creating a fake that has its most important property. If I get this wrong, they’ll be sponging us up from the floor.”

  “Now I’m all encouraged,” I said, moving as far away as possible from him. “Didn’t Erik say they were going to test it too?”

  Monty nodded and began gesturing again. “I’m going to duplicate the runes I can decipher,” he said and held out his hand. “For the rest I’m going to need your blade and blood.”

  “My blood?” I unsheathed Ebonsoul and approached him. “How much blood are we talking here?”

  “A few drops should suffice.” Monty pointed at the new blade. “Here, rub the blood on this blade.”

  I pricked my finger with Ebonsoul and let the drops fall on the blade. Monty moved his hand over the sword and the blood disappeared, absorbed into the blade.

  “And we need my blood because…?” I looked closely at the blade as it began to change, becoming darker.

  “Transmuting this sword is beyond me.” He pointed at the kokutan no ken. “What I’m doing is creating a copy that will exhibit the properties of the original. Your blood—more importantly, your magical immunity—can be adjusted to nullify magic for a short time…if I do this right.”

  “And if you do it wrong?” I stepped from behind the worktable holding the blades. “Were you serious about being sponged off the floor?”

  He gave me a look and went back to muttering words under his breath. I recognized the expression. It was his ‘keep talking and get us killed’ look. I shut up and went back to my makeshift cover of lab tables. I pulled Peaches close and made sure we were as far from the blades and Monty as possible.

 

  “Birdman?” I realized he meant Dex. “No, he’s going to try very hard not to explode us.”
>
 

  “Once we get out of here, I’ll get you some food.” I rubbed his neck and kept my hand close to my mark. If I saw things go sideways, at least I could buy us some time.

  Monty placed his hands together and closed his eyes. He whispered some words under his breath and I felt the pressure increase as the runes along the walls flared to life. A black swirl of energy formed around him. He opened his eyes and they had gone full mage. Each iris was pitch black with a glowing golden circle around it. He separated his palms and placed them on the fake sword. The black swirl funneled down into the blade with a palpable thump. My ears popped and I felt the energy race across the floor and shake the walls. Monty remained frozen in place for several minutes as the energy flowed out of him and into the blade. When he removed his hands from the table, there were two kokutan no ken sitting side by side.

  He took the fake and placed it in the original case. The real blade he placed on the floor next to him.

  “I need to put this somewhere safe in case this plan fails.” Monty traced several runes in the air. They fell to the floor and formed a circle around the blade. In moments, the blade disappeared. He sagged over the table and reached in his pocket, pulling out a large flat brown wafer.

  “Where did you send it?” I stepped over the makeshift cover of tables with Peaches in tow. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine in a moment.” Monty took a bite out of the wafer and the color returned to his face. “It’s safe. The Blood Hunters would find it impossible to retrieve.”

  I was about to ask where exactly he sent it, when the door unlocked and a Harlequin entered.

  “Would you kindly give this to Erik for his arrangement?” Monty said as he grabbed the case and handed it to the Harlequin.

  “Your portal is ready,” she said as she took the case, bowed, and left the room.

  I waited until she was gone and turned to Monty. “How long will the copy last?”