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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “He what?” Roxanne recovered with an edge in her voice. “And you didn’t think mentioning a disappearing hellhound was relevant? I thought we killed him, Simon.”

  “He’s pretty indestructible,” I said when I heard the familiar growl. “I think I just found him.”

  “Thank goodness,” Roxanne said and let out a long breath. “I swear, between you and Tristan…Please bring in your dog when you can. I still need to run some tests and make sure the neurotoxin is out of his system. Oh and please express my thanks to Tristan for the new MRI scanner.”

  I turned to see Peaches stalking Monty’s uncle. He was in ‘pounce and shred’ mode and this looked like it was going to be ugly. The raven sitting on the branch opened its eyes and they flared a bright green. It spread its wings, which covered most of the wall with its wingspan. Monty’s uncle was focused on the slowly approaching dog of destruction. He gestured slowly as he turned his body to face Peaches.

  “I will,” I said quickly. “Have to go.”

  Monty’s uncle raised a hand, still focused on Peaches. A large sausage materialized in his palm. He offered the sausage to Peaches slowly. The raven pulled its wings tight but kept its glowing eyes on Peaches.

  Peaches closed in on the outstretched hand and removed the sausage, as I looked on, stunned. He brought the sausage next to me and proceeded to devour it.

  “It’s good to see the security of our home is such a priority to you.” I looked down at him as he chomped on the sausage in delight.

 

  “You almost gave Roxanne a heart attack,” I said, crouching down and rubbing his neck. “She thought you were dead when you vanished on her.”

 

  “How did you find me?” I asked, curious.

 

  I looked up and caught Monty’s uncle staring at us.

  “You’re bonded to one of Cerberus’ pups?” he said, the surprise clear in his voice. “I’ve only seen that twice before in my lifetime. Hades must hold you in high regard. What’s his name?”

  “Peaches,” I said, expecting some comment.

  Monty’s uncle slapped the table as he burst out in laughter. “That Hades has a twisted sense of humor—Peaches! Ha!” he managed once he caught his breath. He narrowed his eyes and examined Peaches. “That name is perfect for your pup.”

  “I think Hades just didn’t know what to do with him and wanted to torture me,” I said, standing and extending my hand. “I’m Simon, and you are?”

  “I’m the uncle no one mentions,” he said with a sly grin. “The name is Dexter, but everyone calls me Dex. Tristan really hasn’t mentioned me?”

  “No, not really,” I said, shaking my head. “I just recently heard about William. Until now I thought Monty was an only child.”

  Dex’s face darkened at the mention of William. “He may as well be one, with him for a brother,” Dex muttered with a shake of his head. “That one is black inside. No matter what we tried, he went dark.”

  Monty came back into the dining area with a neat pile of black clothes in his arms. “These should fit,” Monty said tersely. “Please get dressed and make yourself presentable.”

  Dex finished eating, took the clothes, and headed out of dining area with a whistle. “I’ll be right back, please enjoy the breakfast,” Dex said, shaking his ass and dancing what could only be described as a sloppy jig.

  “I really didn’t need that visual,” I said, looking away. “Why is he here?”

  “No one determines where my uncle goes or when,” Monty answered with a sigh. “My family has officially disowned him. The Sanctuary elders gave up on him long ago, mostly because he’s stronger than most of them.”

  “Really? But he looks so, I don’t know—” I started.

  “Deranged is the word you’re looking for,” Monty said, pouring himself some tea. “May as well eat. He is a fantastic cook.”

  Dexter returned dressed in a slate gray suit over a crisp white shirt. A deep indigo tie accented the ensemble. I saw the resemblance immediately. Where Monty was tall and thin, Dex was a little shorter and rounded out. His salt-and-pepper hair was long like Monty’s, but the face gave it away. Dex was an older Monty with laugh lines. Something I was sure Monty would never suffer from.

  Monty shook his head. “Uncle Dex, the clothes I gave you were black,” Monty said with a sigh. “Why did you change them?”

  Dex held up two fingers as he walked over to where Peaches was still wrestling with the sausage. “Two things: I’m not headed to a bloody funeral, and everyone needs a little color in their life—that isn’t black,” Dex said, rubbing the back of Peaches’ neck and surprisingly kept his hand attached to the rest of his body. He gave me a quick glance. “How long since you’ve bonded to the pup?”

  “Not long, a few months,” I said, still in shock that Peaches let him manhandle him while he ate. “May I ask you a question, Dex?”

  “Of course. Any friend of Tristan’s has a friend in me.” Dex nodded and glanced at Monty with a smile. “You want to know what we called Tristan as a boy?”

  “You mentioned you’ve seen two others bonded to dogs like Peaches,” I said, shaking my head even though the temptation was strong. “Have you ever seen that bond broken?”

  Dex became serious as he glanced off into the distance. “Together you and this pup will be a force of nature,” Dex murmured. “These dogs only bond once in their lives. If that bond is broken in any way, it’s best they are put down before they turn.”

  “Turn?” I asked, suddenly concerned. “Into what?”

  “This isn’t a real dog, young man, even if it loosely resembles one.” Dex fixed his dark eyes on me and stood. “This is the offspring of a monster. Only your bond keeps that part of him in check. You break that bond and you’ll have unleashed a creature that’s nearly impossible to kill and capable of wonderful amounts of destruction. That would be a bad idea. Now, which room is mine?”

  “Excuse me?” Monty asked, flustered, and nearly spilling his tea. “You’re staying? I thought you were passing through? Aren’t you just visiting?”

  Dex gave Monty a look and smiled. “Do you know why he doesn’t mention me?” Dex grabbed a large duffel bag from under the table. “It’s because his side of the family is a bit stiff and frowns upon my lifestyle.”

  “Your lifestyle usually puts everyone around you in mortal danger, Uncle Dex,” Monty responded with shake of his head. “The last time I saw you, you were summoning a demon from the lower depths because you wanted to test a spell that would make hell freeze over.”

  “Oh, that.” Dex absentmindedly waved Monty’s words away. “Didn’t work. Too damn hot, but the succubae—oof. I couldn’t walk straight for a week. Then Mo gave me that infernal raven. Said I needed protection.”

  “Mo?” I looked at Monty, who shook his head at me. “Who’s Mo?”

  “Morrigan, Goddess of War, Chooser of the Slain and all-around pain in my arse,” Dex answered with a scowl as he looked over his shoulder at the raven perched on the branch. The raven squawked in response. “It’s complicated. Gave me Herk for ‘protection.’ She says protect, I say spy.”

  Monty cleared his throat.

  “The summoning wouldn’t have been an issue if you didn’t perform it in the middle of Saint Peter’s Square,” Monty said, exasperated. “You nearly caused an international incident.”

  I nearly spit out my coffee. “In the Vatican?” I asked, suppressing laughter. “Did you meet the Pope?”

  “Don’t encourage him.” Monty crossed his arms. “He nearly started another Holy War.”

  “It was the ideal location,” Dex shot back with a grin. “Strong belief is a perfect catalyst for that kind of spell. Did you forget everything I taught you?”

  “We do have the extra bedroom,”
I volunteered, and Monty shot daggers at me with a look. “He could use that.”

  “Perfect!” Dex slung the bag over his shoulder. “No need to escort, I know my way around. I’ve been in your lovely home a few hours now. Come, Herkrekkr.”

  “Did Father send you?” Monty asked, suddenly serious. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Now, why would he do that?” Dex asked, turning to face Monty. “It’s not like you cast a forbidden spell in a city—twice. Those acts would never cause the Elders of your sect, of which your Father is a ranking member, to send the magical police to collect a reckless mage who endangered the lives of an entire city. No—they would just ignore something like that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “There were extenuating circumstances,” Monty muttered, looking away. “It was a matter of life and death.”

  “Of course it was,” Dex said, nodding. “Speaking of death…The sudden demise of the Arbiter tasked with bringing you back to said Elders will only fill them with goodwill toward you and your friend here. This is why they’ll unleash a team of magistrates shortly.”

  “That’s an overreaction on their part.” Monty drank some more tea and narrowed his eyes at the raven. “No one was harmed and the city is intact.”

  “Just like the Foundry.” Dex nodded. “You’re fortunate the Fleur de Lis didn’t send one of their own for the destruction of their fancy property.”

  “That wasn’t us,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Julien had a nasty guest.”

  “That sect was always a bit sensitive.” Dex dropped the bag and poured himself some coffee as I stared in surprise. “Their Arch Mage looked like his underwear was squeezing his bollocks,” Dex said with a grin.

  He made a squeezing motion with his hand, stuck out his tongue, and crossed his eyes. I nearly choked on my food at his expression. Monty gave me a look and then stared at Dex.

  “You destroyed the concrete slab,” Monty said, pointing at Dex. “I knew it was too precise to be Julien.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tristan,” Dex said, shrugging. “But being crushed by a concrete slab is the least of your worries.”

  “How soon?” Monty asked, his voice tight. “How soon before they arrive?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Dex said, sipping his coffee. “You two can’t face them. Not even with the pup and a few decades to prepare. Word has it they’re giving this over to the Ghosts.”

  “Bloody hell,” Monty said and ran a hand through his hair. “The Elders would never go this far—not for a void vortex. Something is wrong.”

  “Who are the Ghosts?” I asked. “They sound unpleasant.”

  “That’s one way to describe them,” Dex answered. “Ghosts are magistrates trained to be instruments of death—lethal and extremely unpleasant. Can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Uncle Dex, no,” Monty said, shaking his head. “You can’t do this. It will only make things worse.”

  Dex laughed. “Tristan, you are buried so deep, the only thing you see when you look up is more dirt,” Dex said and grew serious. “You are a Montague and we’ll not be hunted down like some wild dog over a rule established centuries ago. Not while I still breathe. I do agree with you on one point—something is wrong at the Sanctuary.”

  “This is a disaster.” Monty pinched the bridge of his nose and stood. “This is the equivalent of putting out a fire with gasoline. What was Father thinking?”

  “Probably how to keep you alive without going against all of the Elders,” I said, digging in to more food.

  “If it’s any solace, Mo suggested I visit you as well.”

  “Did she say why?” Monty asked. “Or was she her usual forthcoming self?”

  Dex shook his head with the hint of a smile. “She only said it was important I was near you, didn’t say why,” Dex answered. “But you know her, never big on explanations.”

  “Sounds like a good idea he’s here.” I finished the rest of my coffee. “We could use the help, especially if the Golden Circle wants you erased.”

  The raven took flight and perched on Dex’s shoulder as he grabbed the large branch. “I’m only staying a short while.” Dex picked up and adjusted the bag on his back. “Until we sort out this mess you’ve gotten yourself in. It’s like you said—I’m just passing through. Oh, and please knock before visiting, I’ll be making alterations to my living quarters—wouldn’t want either of you shipped off somewhere.”

  Dex headed down the hallway and disappeared around a corner with a wave.

  I looked at Monty, confused. “Alterations?”

  “It’s better you don’t ask,” Monty said, heading to the kitchen. “We need to go see Erik.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  WE HEADED DOWNSTAIRS and Andrei nearly lost it when he saw Peaches. I smiled and Monty shook his head, walking ahead of us.

  “Why don’t you go over and say hello, boy?” I said loudly enough for Andrei to hear. “Andrei missed you.”

 

  “No, don’t bite him, just growl when you walk next to him,” I whispered as we approached the exit. “He’ll love that.”

  Peaches started a rumble low in his chest. It hit jackhammer level when we got to the door. He bared his fangs in some semblance of a smile. Except that dogs, lacking lips, don’t have the capacity to smile. It appeared that Peaches was going to snack on Andrei, who stumbled back a few feet.

  “Bozhe moi!” Andrei said and made sure the door was between him and Peaches. “My God, keep dog away, Stronk.”

  Peaches just kept walking out to the car and waited. I opened the back door to the Goat and let him jump in. The car rocked from side to side as he settled into the backseat and sprawled. I placed the sword case on the floor next to him and turned to give Andrei a wave before getting behind the wheel and pulling away.

  “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.