Montague & Strong Detective Novels Box Set: Montague & Strong Detective Novels Books, 1 through 3 (Montague & Strong Case Files)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I don’t want your mark, I didn’t ask for it.”

  “Which is why you wear it. I would take it off except I didn’t inscribe it into your skin, as you know. Would you like me to try?”

  “What does that mean?” I asked warily. “Try what?”

  “I can remove the hand, if you like,” she said with a smile. “I can’t guarantee the mark won’t appear elsewhere on your body, though.”

  “No, thank you. I prefer my limbs attached.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. I would be interested in seeing the outcome.”

  We had already been over this several times. Only the goddess who cursed me could remove the mark. Aside from being one of the most powerful magic-users on the planet, she really knew how to hold a grudge. My habit for getting on the wrong side of the wrong people was fast becoming an art form.

  “You need someone with world-ending power, and that’s not me. Wait, I know you. What are you leaving out?”

  And just like that, I fell into her trap like a rank amateur. She smiled at my words and I knew it was over. She had dangled the bait in front of me and I had bitten down on the hook. Now she would reel me in.

  She walked over to where Michiko sat frozen.

  “I can see why you feel the way you do,” she said, caressing her cheek. “She possesses a deadly beauty, intelligence, and the capacity for breathtaking violence—very similar to the weapon you wield. Does she return your sentiment?”

  “Doesn’t matter, it could never work between us. She heads the Dark Council and I’m not exactly one of their favorites. Oh, and small detail—she’s a vampire?”

  “Trivialities,” Karma said, waving my words away. “In the face of a love like yours, those are mere excuses—obstacles to be overcome.”

  “I really hate you right now,” I said. “Tell me.”

  “If you don’t find Charon and return him to work, the souls that are left to wander the earth will become enthralled,” she said, walking around the room. “They will start another supernatural war to make the last one look like a minor skirmish.”

  The last supernatural war had almost wiped out humanity. The Dark Council had been formed to prevent another war from ever happening. Its presence created an uneasy truce between the supernatural, human governments, and those who were aware or sensitive enough to realize that there was something more behind the veil.

  “The Dark Council would never let that happen,” I said, barely believing my own words. “That’s the reason they exist—to prevent a war.”

  “You and I both know there are factions within the Council that would welcome a war to enslave and destroy humanity.”

  She was right. Some on the Council chafed under the truce with humans. Attacks on the supernatural would be a perfect catalyst.

  She looked at Michiko. “They will kill her first, of course,” she said.

  “Chi can hold her own against the Council. She’s probably the most powerful vampire in it,” I said, trying to reassure myself.

  “They will eliminate her first because she is powerful, but power alone is not enough. Even vampires need to sleep. Then they will pursue the imminent threats—magic-users, powerful mages like Tristan.”

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  She had just described the two most important people in my life.

  “Once those threats are gone, they will hunt down, destroy, and enslave the humans. It shouldn’t take more than a decade or two.”

  “Can’t you do something?”

  “I am doing something.”

  “What, me? Are you kidding? This plan of yours is weak at best.”

  “Have you ever gotten a splinter?” she asked, stepping close.

  My mind tripped over the pivot. “Huh? What?”

  “A splinter,” she said slowly. “Have you ever had one?”

  “Yes, of course, plenty of times.”

  “When this happened, what did you do? Did you ignore it or divert all attention to removing it?”

  She moved over and stood in front of me.

  “I removed it. Wait, are you saying I’m the splinter?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re my splinter,” she said, and poked my chest gently. “And I’m inserting you into this situation.”

  “Splinters get removed, usually violently.”

  “I am balance and order. Do you know what people say about me?”

  “That you’re a bit—?” I started.

  “The other thing they say about me,” she interrupted and narrowed her eyes at me. “My purpose is to reap what you sow. I restore balance and order. I am causality. And you never escape causality.”

  “Not seeing the connection here. I’m the furthest thing from balance and order I know.”

  She smiled, and then I knew what she meant.

  “Exactly, your very existence refutes my being. You are the chaos to my order. You shouldn’t exist and honestly I don’t know how it was done, but I know it’s tied to me or you wouldn’t be wearing my mark.”

  “Don’t you know where he is? Can’t you sense Charon?” I asked, looking for an escape route.

  “Normally I would, but wherever he’s gone I can’t feel his presence. You need to go see him.”

  “No way, the last time we spoke, he wanted to kill me, repeatedly—just to see what would happen. He’s twisted and sick. I’m immortal, not a masochist.”

  “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

  “I don’t want to get to know him—at all.”

  “It’s the most logical starting point,” she answered, her voice hard. “You have to go see Hades.”

  “This just went from horrible to nightmarish. How am I supposed to get Hades here? Send him an invite?”

  She transformed into a sari-wearing nanni, pinched my face, and moved her head in a side-to-side tilt while tutting at me. Her wrists were covered with prayer beads, malas, which jangled when she moved.

  “I hear he owns property in New York City. If not, you could always visit him at his other—” she began.

  “No, not happening, ever,” I interrupted. “I’ll find him here.”

  “Take Tristan with you. He’s always so pleasant.”

  “Are we talking about the same Tristan?”

  She nodded and smiled at me.

  I stared at her, speechless, and she winked at me.

  “You will need his help for this.”

  “What if I can’t stop this war? What if I’m not enough?” I whispered.

  She straightened out my jacket, jangling the malas as she spoke.

  “A word of caution, my splinter. For the short time the mark is active—you’re not immortal.”

  “Which means?”

  “There are beings, entities which are not subject to time—like you. When you use the mark, you arouse their curiosity in you. This isn’t always a good thing.”

  “You never answered my question. What if I fail?”

  “Oh, the usual—deaths, destruction, the end of life as you know it,” she said in a lilting voice. “In the grand scheme of things, this is a pretty big one. Be a good splinter and don’t screw up.”

  She patted my cheek and disappeared.

  EIGHT

  THE MARK ON my hand began to burn again. I moved back to where I was and faced Michiko as time snapped back and began to flow again.

  Chi stared at me as I looked back at her. I could see Yama behind her go slowly Chernobyl as I stood there, mute. It took me a few seconds before I realized Karma did one of her second-to-second stasis moves on me, freezing time in-between two seconds.

  “Thank you for preventing my untimely death at the hands of Himayama,” I said as I recovered. “What complication?”

  “The Council is looking into it, so until I know more she needs to stay with you. Were you able to get blood from the truck?”

  I nodded and pulled out a medallion from my pocket. It belonged to one of the hit squad members. I placed it on the table in
front of her.

  “What clan is this? I don’t recognize the crest.” Not that I recognized more than two or three of them, but there was no reason to tell her that.

  She took the medallion from the table and turned it in her fingers. “You wouldn’t. This clan is not very large. After what you did at the garage, they won’t strike again anytime soon.”

  “But they will strike again?”

  “Of course. They shunned her and want to see her destroyed. Once they gather enough vampires, they will come for her again.”

  “Wonderful. Anything else I should know?” I was distracted. My mind was racing about the upcoming meeting with Hades. I needed to plan and tell Monty.

  Michiko stood up and took a step toward me. I felt her breath caress my cheek as she spoke. “I apologize for this imposition. It is necessary…for now.”

  She turned to Yama and said something in Japanese. He bowed to her and responded. She turned back to me, bowed, and disappeared.

  I stood there in shock. To my recollection, Michiko had never apologized—to anyone. It meant that whatever ‘complication’ the Dark Council was dealing with was serious.

  “I wonder what that last part was about?” I said, looking at Yama.

  He sighed and looked up to the ceiling. I smiled.

  “I am to protect you both—with my life,” he said in perfect English.

  “I feel safer already,” I muttered under my breath as he grimaced at me.

  Monty walked in and I turned to him. He held up his hand and walked past me. He gave Yama a passing glance and kept moving.

  “Tea and sleep. In that order. Whatever it is can wait until morning,” he said as he headed into the kitchen.

  “Did you deal with them?” I asked.

  “That clan is now several members smaller,” he said as he tossed about twenty medallions on the kitchen counter. “The blood from the truck will be here in a few hours. I left it with Cecil.”

  I didn’t understand the relationship between Monty and Cecil, the owner of SuNaTran, but I knew it was powerful. If he had the truck, it may as well have never existed.

  My phone rang as Monty rummaged in the kitchen. I picked it up on the third ring. You never want to appear too eager.

  “Simon, get your ass down to the morgue—now.” It was Ramirez. “And bring Tristan.”

  He hung up.

  “Monty—,” I started.

  “Bloody hell,” he replied from the kitchen and slammed a drawer closed. “Let me drink this first and then we can go.”

  “You need to stay here,” I said, looking at Georgianna. “The room to the left is a darkroom. There’s a change of clothes in there that should fit you.”

  “Photography. Is that your hobby?” she asked as she peered into the room.

  I shook my head. “Darkroom means no sunlight.”

  I pressed another number on my phone.

  “SuNaTran,” said the voice in a crisp English accent. “How can we meet your transportation needs?”

  “Hi, Alice,” I said, heading to my room. “How long?”

  “Hello, Mr. Strong. Ten minutes?” she replied.

  “Perfect,” I said and hung up. “Ten minutes, Monty.”

  A grunt from the kitchen was his reply. I went to my room, removed my ruined suit, and tossed it on my bed. Piero would have a fit if he saw it in its current state. I sighed. There was nothing to be done. It was completely ruined. I shook out the jacket and a wooden mala fell out of one of the jacket pockets with a note attached.

  Sometimes a splinter must be a sword, the note read.

  I looked it over and counted eighteen beads. They were made of smooth wood and looked worn from constant use. The largest bead held a carved endless knot on two sides. When did she have time to put that in my pocket? Could she pull a stasis within a stasis? I opted not to tumble down that rabbit hole, and put on the mala.

  I didn’t know what it did and I hoped not to find out anytime soon. If Karma put it in my pocket, she meant for me to wear it, so I did.

  Contrary to Piero’s fashion advice, I put on a pair of black jeans, my all-purpose hiking boots, and a sweater. I grabbed my leather peacoat because carrying a large blade and a gun is always easier under a coat. I stepped back into the living room just in time to see Georgianna heading to the darkroom.

  “There’s some food in the fridge,” I said mostly to Yama. “If you need anything, you can call either one of us. The darkroom only has that one exit and once the door is closed, nothing short of a tank, or maybe him”—I looked at Yama—“is going to open it. The room itself is a repurposed bank vault.”

  “Thank you,” she said around a yawn. “I know you still have plenty of questions and I promise to answer them when I wake up tonight.”

  “Fair enough. I’m guessing Yama will stand watch?”

  He stared at me and gave a short grunt, master conversationalist that he was. Once she entered, he stood in front of the door and looked about as mobile as Mt. Everest. Between the room and Yama, she was as safe as she could be.

  Monty entered the living room and looked at Yama. He stepped up to him and said something in rapid Japanese. Yama opened his eyes wide and bowed as he gave a reply. Monty spoke again before returning the bow. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. I followed him out and caught up.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked, wondering how many languages he knew. Monty was always full of surprises.

  “Nothing of consequence,” he said as he put on his suit jacket.

  “You didn’t offer him dinner, did you? I don’t think there’s enough food on the eastern seaboard to keep him full.”

  “When did you get that?” he said, looking at the mala on my wrist.

  “Not too long ago,” I said as I held it up. “I’ll explain on the way. What did you say?”

  “I told him I was an eighth dan in Go and would be willing to enjoy a game with him,” he said as we entered the lobby. “He was honored I would extend the invitation.”

  “And? What else?”

  Because I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t let it rest there.

  “I told him I knew he served your vampire. If he failed in his duty to protect a shunned vampire, a task he may consider dishonorable and beneath him, I’d personally take care of him before she did. I promised him a coward’s death.”

  It was in these moments that I was relieved Monty was my friend.

  “You got all of that in those few sentences?”

  “In Japanese, what’s unspoken is louder than what’s said. Now tell me, when did she appear and how much shite are we in?”

  NINE

  SUPERNATURAL TRANSPORTATION, OR SuNaTran for short, provided a car service for the supernatural population. Because being covered in blood and viscera and hailing a cab, even one in New York City—the capital of the bizarre—will get you cuffed and sitting in a NYTF cell.

  SuNaTran provided discreet service any time of day or night to any of the five boroughs and beyond—for a price. The transportation they provided—and I use the term loosely since each Rolls Royce Phantom was a tank disguised as a car—was the height in security.

  By the time we stood outside the Moscow, Robert had pulled up silently in the black Phantom. Each of SuNaTran’s drivers was highly trained. They could execute tight J-turns and other evasion-style techniques to ensure the safety of their passengers.

  The bottomless pit known as the trunk was dubbed Pandora’s Box because it contained just a little of everything and was all designed to cause pain or explode, and in most cases, both.

  With a push of a button, Robert opened the doors as we approached. He was the only driver I knew in the years we had used SuNaTran. He was stockily built, with quick eyes and lightning-fast reflexes.

  “Robert,” I said, and nodded when we got inside. “Morgue please.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Strong. Right away,” he said with a slight accent.

  “Cut the formality. It’s us, Simon and T
ristan.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Strong,” he said, tipping his cap and completely ignoring my direct request.

  “One day I’ll get him to slip up,” I said to Monty, who had found the cookies—or biscuits, as he called them—and was looking through the selection of teas.

  “Won’t happen,” Monty replied and chose some tea from the kettle placed strategically on the sideboard. “He drove for a member of British aristocracy, a Duke or Earl of some kind. They practically invented formality. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  I sank back in the luxurious seat and closed my eyes for a few seconds. It didn’t last long before I heard the short cough. I opened my eyes to Monty sipping his tea and looking at me, waiting.

  “She came by this afternoon before you got back,” I said as I sat up and readjusted. “She did one of those karmic stasis things where she stops time and then has a heart-to-heart, usually stopping mine.”

  “Did you use the mark?” he asked in between sips.

  “No, I had just gotten back and Chi was inside the living room with Yama the Mountain. There was no imminent threat.”

  “Except for the Dark Council vampire and her giant in the living room.”

  “Exactly. Well, I guess Yama could have stomped on me, but it wasn’t imminent.”

  He placed the teacup down and nibbled on a biscuit.

  “Did you know that Yama means mountain in Japanese?” he said, picking up a second biscuit. “It also means restraint and self-control. Try to use some the next time you’re around him. Don’t antagonize him more than necessary. What did she want?”

  I shared everything Karma had told me and explained how I found the mala in my jacket pocket after she had gone.

  “May I see it?” he asked, extending his hand.

  I took it off and gave it to him. He held and examined it. He touched each of the smooth wooden beads and focused on the largest one. He rubbed the endless knot and the mala glowed white as it shot forward and buried his body into the seat, knocking the air out of him. The car fishtailed as Robert fought to keep it under control. Several tires screeched behind us as he pulled to the side and lowered the partition.

  “Everything all right, sirs?” he said, nonplussed.