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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Who did you leave at Roselli’s?” I asked, grabbing my utensils. “Who’s running the shift tonight?”

  Piero waved my questions away. “Roselli’s is where I am. Tonight”—he waved his hand around with flair—“this is Roselli’s,” he said.

  “Piero, you said you needed to speak with us,” Monty said as he began to eat. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight,” Piero said after a brief pause. “After this meal, Roselli’s will be closed until I return.”

  “Leaving? Why are you leaving? And where?” I said around a bite of the wagyu that melted in my mouth and made me pause. “This is incredible.”

  Piero nodded sagely. “Some old enemies have come to the city. I will leave to keep my people and my business safe. We will go somewhere safe.”

  I made the connection. “You’re talking about the Blood Hunters. Why would they be after you?” I asked, looking at Monty as he reached in his pocket.

  “Non capisco,” Piero said. “This city is campo neutro. We don’t attack and we are left alone. This has changed.”

  Monty placed the LIT round on the table, and Piero narrowed his eyes at it. “Do you recognize this ammunition?” Monty asked.

  Piero flexed his jaw as he nodded slowly. “Those are the bullets of the ones who kill my kind—cacciatori di sangue,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Blood Hunters. This is why I came to speak to you. When you told me about the attack on the Concilio Negro, I knew they were here.”

  “You knew they were coming?” I said.

  “Rumors, whispers in the night, but nothing certain,” he said with a short nod. “Many of the old ones didn’t believe me. ‘The Blood Hunters are gone,’ they said. ‘You worry for nothing. Cacciatori are a myth, ghosts from a different time. They are all dead.’”

  “Looks like they aren’t all dead,” I said, looking at the round on the table. “One of these Blood Hunters tried to kill Michiko.”

  “They are not all gone,” Piero whispered, and shook his head. “The Cacciatori are looking for something. Something powerful enough to risk a challenge to the Concilio Negro, but I do not know what.”

  “We need to go see Nicholas,” Monty said as he grabbed the round.

  SIX

  PIERO SAID HIS goodbyes and left after we ate. He confirmed that if we wanted to find out who made the LIT round, the black market was the best place to look.

  Every community has a dark side—the face that’s kept hidden from outsiders and revealed only at night when you’re reckless, desperate, or both. It’s the face of dark alleys, whispered promises, and cold steel inserted slowly between your ribs as your life spills out into the street.

  The magical community was no exception. The only difference was that this black market dealt in unchecked lust, lethality, and magic. If you needed a spell to fry an enemy on the spot, or some runes to make yourself irresistible, you could find it in the Moving Market.

  The hard part was finding the Moving Market itself.

  Nicholas Casimir ran the Moving Market. Everyone knew him as Shadow Nick because he was a plane-weaver. As a mage, he was probably-low to mid-level in power. As a plane-weaver, he was off-the-charts incredible. His ability allowed him to displace an entire city block and move it in the interstices, the spaces in-between moments of reality.

  Monty said it was similar to what I did with my mark, but on a scale that would melt my brain if he tried to explain it to me. The Moving Market was never in one place for too long. You had to find it by going to where it was going to be and entering a space it would occupy. After ten minutes, the entrance would disappear again.

  We grabbed our gear and headed downstairs. Peaches padded silently next to me. Andrei saw us coming and backed away from the door while muttering something I couldn’t catch. Olga towered behind the reception desk.

  Olga Gabriella Rodensky Etrechenko was the reason the term ‘ice queen’ was invented. She looked down at me with her imperial gaze and gave me a brief nod, barely acknowledging my existence. She wore a dress that screamed ‘obscenely expensive’ and that highlighted the curves of her statuesque figure. Monty kept walking and stepped outside to wait for the Goat.

  “Stronk, you want to speak to me?” she said, never able to manage the ‘g’ at the end of my name. “What is wrong with neighbor?”

  “We need more space for the office and I never see them open. Can you ask them if they would be willing to give us more floor space?” I asked, looking into her glacial blue eyes. “We’re willing to pay the increase in rent, obviously.”

  She shook her head slowly. “They are very important lawyer firm, and your detective agency”—she wobbled her hand palm-down, indicating instability—“ is slabyy, very shaky,” she replied while looking at Peaches, who returned the gaze unflinchingly. “That is hellhound Andrei speaks of?”

  “Yes. His name is Peaches and he’s a good dog. Not a hellhound.” I gave Andrei a sidelong glance. I reached into my coat pocket to remove an envelope, and placed it on the desk in front of her. “This month and the next two. I would appreciate it if you could ask them.”

  No one cheated Olga and survived long enough to talk about it. I wasn’t certain about what she was, but I knew she wasn’t entirely human.

  “Persiki,” she said, still looking at Peaches and taking the envelope from the desk. She nodded and broke eye contact with him, looking up to stare at me. “He is good dog, Stronk, special. I will ask the lawyers if they give you more space.”

  “Thank you, Olga.” I headed to the entrance and slowed my pace as we drew near the door, just to give Andrei an extra second or two next to Peaches. I was considerate that way. Monty was outside standing next to the Goat. “Why don’t you ever speak to her?”

  “Because I have grown rather fond of our offices and would prefer to avoid not leveling the building,” he said as I grabbed the door handle and the surface of the Goat flared orange. The engine unlocked to hammer on anvil sounds as we got inside and I started the car. The engine roared and settled into a thrumming purr as Monty closed his eyes and made a gesture. Runes came to life inside the car.

  “What do you mean ‘not leveling the building’? Not that I want you to level the building.”

  “There is only one way a prolonged conversation between your landlady and I can end,” Monty said with a sigh. “Which is why we don’t speak. Now, do you want me to go speak to her and unleash havoc, or do we go find the Moving Market?”

  “I prefer the non-havoc option,” I said, throwing the car in gear. “Where to?”

  “The Highline near the Hudson Yards,” he said, opening his eyes. “The market should be there in an hour, which gives us plenty of time.”

  An orange moon raced behind us as we sped up the Westside Highway to meet Shadow Nick and his Moving Market.

  SEVEN

  IF MASTER YAT had one saying, it would be—“The blow you don’t see coming hurts the most.”

  This was followed with a few whacks of his stick, which lit up every pain receptor in my body.

  “See, you didn’t expect that, and so the pain is exquisite, isn’t it?”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” I said, gasping for breath.

  A few more strikes, too fast to detect or prepare for, introduced me to deeper levels of agony.

  “Smartass remarks will bring you new and much deserved pain. Run the drill again.”

  These words rushed back to me as the Westside Highway suddenly went from flat road to ramp beneath us.

  “This…is not good,” I said. The world tilted as we launched into the air, barrel-rolling. In the distance, I managed to glimpse a figure off to the right, but it was too far away to get any details. Whoever had attacked us had opted for targeting the road and not the car. “Monty—a little help?”

  Behind us, I could hear Peaches rumble his displeasure.

  Monty gestured as we turned. The Goat righted itself and descended, cutting the arc of the jump short. We landed hard
enough to bounce once and slide several feet.

  “I don’t want to get on that ride again,” I said as I shook my head. In the distance, I saw the figure, dressed in the dark, hooded robe with a large golden circle on the chest. “Your Envoy buddy doesn’t know when to quit.”

  I drew Grim Whisper and took aim.

  “Don’t shoot him—yet,” Monty said as the figure approached. “He may listen to reason.”

  I pointed to the asphalt ramp we’d just Evel Knieveled. “Reason? I have a few reasons he can listen to, while I shoot his ass for launching me into space.” I put one bullet in the chamber.

  Monty looked at me. “Let me speak with him. I’ve known him since he was a boy.”

  I lowered Grim Whisper, and Peaches rumbled in the back. “Go ahead.” I waved him forward. “He so much as moves a finger to pick his nose, that big gold circle on his chest becomes target practice.”

 

  “Monty wants to try and reason with the mage who just tried to kill us, boy,” I said, rubbing Peaches’ head. “Let them talk it out, but be ready to shred Tall, Dark, and Spooky.”

 

  “No, you need to lay off the pastrami. Didn’t you just eat filet? Where did that go? I swear you have a black hole instead of a stomach.”

  We got out of the car. Monty walked several feet away and stopped. He pulled on the sleeves of his jacket, as the robed figure closed the distance.

  “You think your shift makes you immune to the mandate of the elders?” Gideon asked, pushing the hood back. “You think you’re untouchable, beyond reproach? I know your history. You’re—”

  “…Getting aggravated,” Monty said, extending an arm to the side. “You need to go home, Gideon.”

  Gideon formed two orbs of flame in his hands. I glanced to the side, but it looked like Gideon was riding solo on this mission. That was a mistake. At least with his friends around to distract Monty, it would take a few moments before he got to pounding on Gideon. All alone meant he had all of Monty’s attention.

  “Listen to what he’s telling you and go home,” I yelled from where I stood, next to the Goat. Monty held up a hand and I shut up. I stepped to the other side of the car just in case some debris or a young mage flew my way.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Gideon answered, releasing the orbs. They floated in front of him, bobbing slowly in the night. “You’re not even a mage—you’re some kind of freak.”

  “Ouch, no need for insults,” I said, raising Grim Whisper. “You don’t see me saying anything about you wandering my city in your oversized dressing gown with a big golden target on your chest.” Peaches shifted into ‘pounce and maim’ mode.

  “Gideon, it’s time for you to leave,” Monty whispered into the night as he stepped closer to him. “I would rather it be without pain, but we are quite pressed for time.”

  “Pressed for time? Pressed for time!” Gideon yelled, and brought forth several more orbs of fire. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, oh battle mage Montague. Allow me to send you promptly to your death!”

  Gideon thrust both hands forward, unleashing the group of orbs at Monty. I kept my hand near the main bead on my mala, in case one of the orbs veered off course and decided to pay me a visit. “Monty?” I said, stepping behind him. “That’s a buttloa—bunch of orbs coming your way. You got this?”

  “Of course, but you may want to step back,” he said as he traced a rune in the air before him. Blue trails followed his fingers as they moved through the air. I took several steps back. The racing orbs streaked through the darkness and then slowed down, stopping a few feet away from Monty.

  Clearly, this didn’t impress Gideon, who reached in his robe and pulled out a shotgun. I saw the surfaces of the barrels were covered with nasty, angry-looking runes.

  “Those runes don’t look pleasant, Monty. What kind of Mary Poppins pockets does that robe have?” I asked, moving back. “Tell me it isn’t one of those ‘time and relative dimensions in space’ things you mages love to carry.”

  “This would be a good time to shoot,” Monty said, waving his hand forward and reversing the orbs back at Gideon and moving back with me. “Try not to get shot by those rounds.”

  Gideon slid to the right and shot at the orbs. A latticework of white energy erupted in front of them. It surrounded and dissolved the orbs before disappearing. I fired at the large golden circle on his chest. It was dark and I was moving, so I missed my shots.

  “When I said shoot, I meant at him,” Monty said, waving a hand and forming a pair of shields around him. “Or were those warning shots?”

  “It’s not easy hitting a moving target while running at night, on uneven terrain, and taking fire,” I said indignantly. “It’s not as easy as I make it look.”

  I managed to slide across the hood of the Goat, just as another one of those lattice rounds slammed into the car. Peaches ran at Gideon, and blinked out on the way there.

  “Gideon, stop this while you still can,” Monty said, forming another shield. “Acting alone to apprehend a rogue mage is an unsanctioned act for an Envoy. I’d hate to see you demoted back to apprentice.”

  “You always were an arrogant bastard, Tristan. I’m going to enjoy humiliating you,” Gideon said, tossing the shotgun to one side. He waved both arms up and then swung them down. The street behind Monty rose like a wave. It crested above him close to thirty feet high, and came crashing down as Monty pressed his hands together.

  The shields around Monty slammed together, sandwiching him. At the same time, Peaches reappeared in front of Gideon mid-pounce.

  The asphalt wave crashed around Monty, leaving him unharmed and without a speck of dust on his suit. He made a grabbing motion with his hands, and formed two spheres of asphalt the size of bowling balls, which he launched at Gideon.

  Peaches tucked his head and dog-pedoed Gideon, before disappearing again. Gideon tried to dodge the canine battering ram and failed. He took the hit in his abdomen and doubled over. As the spheres flew toward him, he lifted his arms, covering his body.

  The two asphalt bowling balls barreled through his block. He screamed in pain as the bones of his forearms shattered with an audible snap.

  Monty approached Gideon, who was now hunched over and groaning. He crouched down to look at Gideon’s arms, gently talking hold of each one.

  “I warned you,” Monty said. “Pointing out the error of your current course of action is hardly a demonstration of arrogance.” Gideon’s screams echoed into the night as Monty tightened his grip on the broken limbs. “The radius and ulna are fractured in both arms, and need medical attention. Are you ready to go home now?”

 

  “Leave his arms alone, boy,” I whispered, rubbing Peaches behind the ears as he rumbled contentedly. “You did good.”

  “I will stop you, Tristan,” Gideon gasped through clenched teeth, tears of pain streaming down his face. “I’m an Envoy, and I will bring you to justice.”

  “Gideon,” Monty said softly, “maybe one day you will stop me, but that day is not today. Haven or the Sanctuary?”

  “The Sanctuary. I will not be treated and placed in a cell by your dark sorceress,” Gideon said, spitting out the last words. “Yet another reason to bring you in. You defile yourself with the dark arts, mage.”

  I held my breath in anticipation of the incineration of Gideon—clueless Envoy of the Golden Circle, who met his demise by opening his mouth one time too many and insulting someone with enough power to erase him. It was a major error in judgment. I should know: it was a neighborhood I visited often.

  Monty’s jaw flexed, and for a second I thought he really was going to blast the helpless idiot on the floor who had just had both his arms snapped like chopsticks. Instead of a searing fireball, though, Monty smiled and nodded.

  “You’re right, Gideon.
I am defiled. If you ever slander any of the people I care about again, I promise you I won’t be so courteous. Do you understand?” Monty grabbed one of Gideon’s forearms and squeezed. More screams. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  Gideon nodded mutely as Monty gestured and formed a large rune under him.

  “Monty, isn’t that a teleportation circle?” I asked, as Gideon’s eyes opened wide and he started shaking his head.

  “Very observant, Simon. It is a teleportation circle. How else do you propose I get him back to the Sanctuary—carry him?” Monty said, looking at me and pointing at Gideon.

  “Just saying, those things have some nasty after effects,” I said, looking down at Gideon. “The ones at Hellfire twisted my intestines and gut-punched me, and I only traveled a short distance. I heard that the effect is based on how far it sends you.”

  Monty gave me a very slow smile and nodded. “The effect of intra-abdominal pressure and discomfort you experienced is a direct correlation to the distance traversed through magical deconstruction and reconstruction—or teleportation, as you call it.” He turned to Gideon and gestured. “This is going to hurt quite a bit. I hope you had a light dinner.”

  “No, wait, don’t—” Gideon said, as Monty touched the circle. Gideon convulsed for a few seconds and disappeared.

  “You didn’t have to go all magicsciencey on me. A simple yes would’ve worked.” I looked at the fading circle. “Is he going to survive that trip?”

  “It will feel like his intestines are being ripped out—with a dull butter knife, but he will survive.” Monty headed to the Goat. “We don’t have all night, so let’s go.”

  “Have I told you how scary you are?” I opened the back door and let Peaches into the car. I slid into my seat, as he rocked the suspension while settling into his backseat sprawl.

  “Repeatedly and in great detail,” Monty said, pulling out the bullet again and examining it. “I’d say it’s a bit hypocritical coming from a time-stopping immortal who’s bonded to a hellhound that regularly winks in and out of existence, trying to gnaw on whatever it can get its jaws on. But who am I to judge?”