Requiem: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 13)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Rectify what, exactly?” I asked warily. “I’m not aware we need to rectify anything.”

  “The stench of the Auer still rests on you,” Magnus said with a slight smile. “Am I to assume she was the one who disclosed this location to you?”

  I saw no point in lying.

  “She gave us a nudge, yes,” I said. “I tried to google ‘secret dragon club,’ but that was a mess. You really need to work on your SEO. The Auer made it so much easier, pointed us right here”—I glanced over where Gant stood—“and said we should speak to Gant.”

  “I will make sure she is dealt with.”

  “I’d leave her alone if I were you,” I said. “She’s not exactly an easy target.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m advising you. Trying to take her out would be a bad career move.”

  “I’ll take your advice into consideration,” Magnus said, motioning to Gant, who pressed a panel near the small bar. “Send them.”

  “Send them?” I asked, looking from Magnus to Gant. “Who did you send?”

  “A solution to my Auer…problem, but that’s not pertinent to our present discussion,” Magnus said, waving my words away. “Do you care to explain yourself?”

  “Explain myself? What’s there to explain?”

  “You killed one of my enclave sisters,” Magnus said, getting right to it. “The way I see it, we can approach this one of several ways.” He looked over at Gant who nodded holding up a bottle. “No, the Versos 1891. This is a special occasion. Apologies. You’ll forgive me; good sherry is one of my weaknesses.” Gant handed him a glass. “And this is one of the best. Now, where were we?”

  “I killed one of your enclave sisters.”

  “Yes,” Magnus said. “Tradition dictates I respond. This affront cannot stand, but I do have options.”

  “Is one of those options that we put the incident behind us, seeing as how she tried to kill me and those close to me?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Magnus said, holding up his glass and looking at the liquid it contained. “You are not a dragon; therefore, this must be dealt with in the old ways.”

  “The old ways?” I asked, not liking where this was going. “Are we going to have to meet at dawn with pistols drawn?”

  “It’s simple, really,” Magnus said, ignoring my duel at dawn comment. “Either I kill you; I kill one of your family, blood or chosen; or, you kill me.”

  “None of those options work for me, thanks. Monty?”

  “There is another option,” Monty said, “if you are following the traditional ways. The Rite of Fire.”

  “The Rite of Fire?” I asked. “Why does that sound painful?”

  “I thought you were his friend?” Magnus asked. “The Rite of Fire would end him. He is not dragon.”

  “Correct, I am not dragon,” I said, staring at Monty before turning to Magnus. “Do you have a Rite of Smoldering, something a few levels below fire? You know, hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not lethal?”

  Magnus stared at me.

  “Are you always this irritating?”

  “Only when I’m awake or facing individuals with delusions of grandeur.”

  “I have given you the recourses available to me Which do you choose?”

  “This Rite of Fire…what is it, exactly?” I asked, remembering Slif’s attempts to barbecue me. “Trial by combat, facing off against dragons, or dealing with actual fire?”

  “Yes,” Magnus said. “All that and more. It will kill you. Choose.”

  “Do I have to face off against you?”

  “Against me?” Magnus asked, looking over the rim of his glass. “Are you insane? What an absurd notion. Are you suggesting I engage you in actual combat? Have you grown tired of living?”

  “Then who?”

  “You will face Rell, my lead enforcer,” Magnus said. “He has much to atone for. This will give him the opportunity to work off some of his debt.”

  “Really glad I could help Rell out,” I said. “When?”

  “You have one week to get your affairs in order. Notify your next of kin, and whatever it is you humans do to prepare for death,” Magnus said. “One week from today, you will face Rell in my home at the Balfour Estate, and we will settle this matter once and for all.”

  “And if I refuse?” I asked, because I was suicidal that way. “What if I say no?”

  “Then I will start immediately eliminating everyone your life has touched, starting with Mage Montague and your hellhound here.”

  The rage inside me flared, but I managed to keep it in check. Magnus was not some second-rate enemy. The power he gave off, even inside a neutral zone, told me everything I needed to know. He could back up his words with lethal action.

  “You will not touch him or anyone else,” I said after taking a deep breath. “You will leave them alone.”

  “They will be safe,” Magnus said, “if you honor your word and accept the Rite of Fire. Yes?”

  “I will,” I said, feeling a lump of dread in the pit of my stomach. “One week.”

  “Excellent,” Magnus said, dismissing us with a wave of his hand. “This has been quite productive. I expect you here one week from today. Gant, show them out.”

  Gant gave Magnus a slight bow and led us to the door.

  EIGHTEEN

  Gant walked us down to the ground floor.

  “It was the smart play,” Gant said. “Actually, it was the only play, but it was the smart one. You bought yourself a week. I’d enjoy it if I were you.”

  “How dangerous is Rell?” I asked as we stepped outside the restaurant. “Do I have a chance against him?”

  Gant shook his head.

  “It was great meeting you,” he said. “I don’t know much about this Rite of Fire—it was before my time, and I’m not a dragon. The last time I heard of one, Rell was standing for the Balfour Enclave against several dragons. None of the challengers survived—and they were dragons. Which you are not.”

  “Right,” I said. “That fills me with confidence. Basically, this is a rite of suicide.”

  “For you? Yes,” Gant said. “But this way, the Balfour Enclave will leave everyone in your life alone, and prevent them from being attacked by any dragons. They will be honor bound to do so.”

  “That’s comforting. Too bad I need to be dead to enjoy that level of dragon security,” I said. “I need to find a loophole, really.”

  “Aren’t any that I know of,” Gant said, “but, like I said, the Rite of Fire is not my thing. Maybe your mage knows?”

  “I have a few ideas,” Monty said, nodding to Gant. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “My pleasure,” Gant said. “See you in a week. Try not to do anything stupid, like leave town. Balfour does his homework, and he knows all there is to know about you at this point.”

  “I get it,” I said, walking away. “Don’t try to escape or he burns everything to ash.”

  “Something like that,” Gant said, heading back in to the restaurant. “Enjoy the week.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “Who did he send?”

  “Magnus plans for every contingency,” Gant said, lowering his voice. “He sent a group to deal with the Auer. There’s nothing you can do for her now.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said. “Do you know when?”

  “I don’t, but I know it won’t be before the annual enclave meet,” Gant said. “Magnus never conducts business this close to the annual event. It will be after, probably a day or two. She’s gone; she just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Knowing her,” I said as we stepped away, “I’m sure she does.”

  We headed to the Dark Goat. I placed my hand on the roof and it unlocked with its usual hammer-on-anvil clang, followed by the orange wave of energy across its surface.

  I held the door open as the Master of Sprawlesence jumped into the car, executing a superior hellhound stretch, taking up the entire backseat. Monty was strapped in the passenger seat
by the time I got behind the wheel.

  The engine roared with a scream and settled into a menacing purr. I remained silent for a few seconds before putting the Dark Goat into gear.

  “The Auer is quite capable of defending herself,” Monty assured me. “That, and she has Roma and the Archive Guard. We need to focus on the immediate threat.”

  “I’m not blowing myself up with an entropy bomb, and Slif nearly wiped the street with all of us,” I said, speeding down the street. “I hope you have an idea.”

  “Several, actually,” Monty said. “Some of it is coming into focus. The rest will have to wait until we meet with Shadow Company.”

  “I’m glad someone is seeing through all of this, because all I’m seeing is an expiration date a week from now.”

  “Look closer,” Monty said. “What do we know?”

  “Magnus wants to kill me?”

  “He may not want to, but he has to because of his position as enclave leader,” Monty said. “A failure to respond to Slif’s death will be perceived as weakness. In dragon society, that would be a death sentence. Obouros would exploit it as an opening.”

  “He doesn’t want to kill me, but he has to?” I said, crossing over to the east side of the city. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Why now?” Monty asked. “Why not eliminate you shortly after Slif perished?”

  “Maybe his schedule was packed with dragon things—you know, terrorize and raze a few villages, hoard some gold, that sort of thing.”

  “You’re conflating fiction with reality,” Monty said. “They may still hoard wealth, but now it’s done in stock holdings and real estate.”

  “It probably wasn’t convenient before, or maybe Rell was busy killing everything in sight,” I countered. “He seems extra angry. Where did you come up with the Rite of Fire?”

  “One of my old classes at the Circle focused on dragon hierarchy and how their society evolved over the millennia. The Rite of Fire was used to initiate dragons, to enter certain enclaves, and to settle disputes without wholesale warfare.”

  “That sounds efficient.”

  “It is,” Monty said pensively, as he looked out of the passenger side window. “What bothers me is that the Rite of Fire is not open to non-dragons, and yet he agreed to let you partake in it. Why?”

  “He really wants me dead?” I said, swerving through traffic. “Wants me to suffer?”

  “He made no mention of your mark or affiliation to Kali,” Monty said. “It’s possible the neutralizing effects of the TINY contributed to that, but it seemed odd he would neglect to address it, considering he intends to end your life.”

  “Is he stronger than Kali?” I asked, concerned—well, more concerned. “She is a goddess with phenomenal cosmic power.”

  “Dragons were once revered as gods, before gods even existed,” Monty said. “I honestly don’t know. Magnus is ancient; he could very well be as powerful, if not more powerful, than Kali or Hades.”

  “Basically what you’re saying is he wants to smear me all over his estate in this rite of his,” I said. “At least he will allow his enforcer assassin to do it.”

  “He could have done that at any time before this meeting,” Monty said. “No, there’s more. I don’t think he expects to see you in a week.”

  “He thinks I’m going to bail?”

  “No,” Monty said. “He expects to see you before the week is out. He knows about Shadow Company’s mission somehow. The Rite of Fire was all pretense to lull you into a state of complacency.”

  “Give me a week, but kill me at his earliest convenience sort of thing?”

  “Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dispatched Rell right after we left.”

  “Sounds like the dragon thing to do,” I said, avoiding more traffic. We had an hour before our meet with Shadow Company. “Have I told you how much I dislike dragons?”

  “You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Monty said. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “No, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  “There’s always a—”

  “Not this time,” I said, cutting him off along with a few taxis that were jockeying for position behind me. “I have to face this part of my past and put it to rest before it does the same to me.”

  NINETEEN

  “Are you sure you want to come with?” I asked as we approached the place where Cassandra breathed her last. “You realize we’re only a block or two away from Haven and Roxanne, right?”

  “It can’t be helped,” Monty said, looking down the block as we parked. “I would imagine that would be them?”

  Monty gestured to the large black truck parked down the block. It was similar to an NYTF command and control vehicle, complete with an enormous trailer.

  “Nothing says subtle like a huge trailer wide enough to block an entire street,” I said, getting out of the Dark Goat. “Let’s go say hello.”

  I opened the door for the Zen Meat Master that had sprawled out into hellhound enlightenment. He stepped out of the Dark Goat with another stretch, causing the car to rock back and forth as he did so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  We were halfway down the block when the rear of the trailer opened. A tall, wiry man stepped out and waited for us to approach. He looked young, easily ten years my junior, about my height, dressed in black combat armor, and was wearing a small arsenal. A dual shoulder rig held two guns, along with dual thigh holsters, equally equipped. I saw the hilts of several blades sheathed along his legs. I imagined there were plenty more weapons hidden out of sight.

  “I feel under equipped for this meet,” I said under my breath as we closed the distance. “I should have brought a rocket launcher or three.”

  “He’s probably overcompensating for a lack in some other area of his life,” Monty replied. “Or possibly he wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”

  The man shifted to the side, blocking the entrance as we reached the trailer.

  “You and the Brit can come in,” the man said, his voice gruff. “The dog stays out here.”

  “The hound goes where I go,” I said. “We’re a package deal. Where’s Douglas? Who are you?”

  “I’m the one letting you into the trailer, and the mutt stays outside,” Tall and Clueless said, letting his hand float over to a thigh holster as he gave me the once over. “Don’t even know why we need some washed-up senior citizen. You still know how to hold a gun, old man?”

  “Senior citizen?” I said, glancing at Monty. “Did he just call me old?”

  “It appears so,” Monty said, stepping to the side. “Children these days, no respect for their elders.”

  I slid forward faster than Clueless could react, drawing Grim Whisper, and placing it gently under his chin. He didn’t have time to reach for any of the weapons in his mobile arsenal, and he froze in place.

  “What’s the point of carrying all these weapons if you can’t use them when you need to?” I said close to his ear. “What’s your name?”

  “Carlos,” he said flexing his jaw. “My name is Carlos.”

  “What do you think, Carlito?” I said, pushing up ever so slightly into his chin with Grim Whisper and forcing his head back an inch. “Do I still know how to hold a gun?”

  “You’re good,” Carlito managed.

  “I’m not good, I’m the best,” I said.
“If I’m here, it’s because your team couldn’t perform. Is that it, Carlito? You need all these guns because you can’t perform?”

  Carlos turned a few shades of red as he kept his anger in check. Smart move, especially when the barrel of a gun was poised to redecorate your head into abstract art.

  “Negative,” Carlos said when he regained some control. “I perform just fine. Maybe one day I’ll have the honor of showing you just how good I am.”

  “I look forward to that day,” I said, holstering Grim Whisper. “Until that day, step aside and don’t call my purebred hound a mutt, or next time I’ll shoot first and let him chew on what’s left of you.”

  Carlos nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Monty, Peaches, and me to enter the trailer. The trailer was a double-wide affair and felt like stepping into an upscale office. We were at one end of a short corridor.

  On either side were doorways that led to small rooms. At the end of the corridor, I could see a larger opening that led to a situation room, complete with a small conference table, monitors, and assorted computer equipment.

  Carlos stepped in behind us and closed the door, remaining where he was as we moved forward.

  “In here, Strong,” I heard the rough voice of Douglas call out. “Carlos, go take a walk and get some air.”

  I glanced back and saw Carlos glare at me.

  “Yes, sir,” Carlos said, opening the door and stepping out. “Needed to do a perimeter check anyway.”

  “Who says you don’t know how to make friends?” Monty said, as the door slammed shut behind us. “He’s seems quite friendly.”

  “Right,” I said, glancing at the door again. “I’ll probably have to shoot him before this is all done.”

  “Maybe you should just give him a firm talking to,” Monty said as we moved forward. “Sometimes a strong word is all it takes.”

  “You’d be amazed at the radical behavior therapy a bullet can produce,” I said. “It’s life altering.”

  The situation room was mostly empty. Douglas sat at the conference table with a series of maps rolled out in front of him. Most of the computer terminals were empty of personnel, and standing to the right of the entrance to the situation room was a short woman with a dark complexion.