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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  I opened my shirt and showed Monty where the pendant used to rest. It was now a dim violet outline etched into my chest.

  “She merged you with it?” Monty asked. “What do you mean, your eyes were glowing? Your eyes aren’t glowing.”

  “They were when she merged me with the pendant,” I said. “Anyway, the merging wasn’t fun—more like agony. Then she destroyed my mala bracelet, but forgot to leave me an instruction manual for my purple bubble of protection.”

  “It’s called a dawnward and it’s an incredibly potent defense,” Monty said. “Why didn’t you use it against Evers?”

  “I could barely create it just now,” I said, rubbing my temple. “And it’s giving me a migraine. I don’t think Evers was going to give me the opportunity. She was a little focused on shredding me.”

  “Have you created it prior to this moment?”

  “I only just managed to create it against Dex,” I said, shaking my head. “Even then, he managed to slice through it with his psycho mace-axe.”

  “You never did tell me how you survived facing Nemain, or Dex for that matter.”

  “It wasn’t so much me surviving as Dex refusing to shred me to nothingness,” I said. “He is off-the-charts powerful. Are you sure we can’t call him?”

  “No, we can’t,” Monty said. “Since your proficiency with the dawnward is unreliable, you will need to wear the jacket and try not to get shot.”

  “That’s on the top of my to-do list every day,” I said, switching jackets along with the contents of my pockets. “I have a bad feeling about this entire op. They’re going to try and kill us, aren’t they?”

  “You said it yourself: Shadow Company doesn’t believe in loose ends,” Monty said. “The information we possess makes us liabilities. They can’t afford to leave us alive.”

  “Remove all sources of information that can blow back on the Company,” I said. “It’s SOP. They’ll try to sanitize the op, and everyone involved who’s not Shadow Company once it’s done. Starting with—”

  “Us and everyone we care for, yes,” Monty said. “We’re going to stop them.”

  “You know what’s not on my to-do list today?” I asked. “Getting taken out by insane zealots and power-mad assassins looking to exterminate what they perceive as threats to their way of life.”

  “Now that your to-do list is sorted, I can rest easy,” Monty said, heading to the kitchen. “All I need now is a good cuppa.”

  He grabbed the kettle and began filling it with water. He was acting normally, but I could tell from the number of times he straightened his sleeves that he was upset.

  “We’re going to keep her safe, Monty, I promise.”

  “You have no way of keeping that promise,” Monty said. “Bloody hell, what about next time? The next time someone like Evers surfaces or some creature decides I need to pay and targets her? Then what?”

  “Then we stop them, too,” I said, gently, noticing that the water in the kettle was beginning to boil. “Monty? Maybe not melt your favorite kettle?”

  He looked down suddenly.

  “Bollocks,” he said, placing the kettle on the stove and leaving the kitchen. “I’ll be in my room. I still have much to prepare.”

  “I got the tea,” I said. “Try not to blast a hole in your room.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Peaches padded off after Monty. The fact that I didn’t hear my name yelled out in anger a few seconds after Peaches invaded Monty’s space let me know how serious this was. My hellhound was rarely, if ever, allowed into the Montague inner sanctum.

  Monty had declared his space a drool-free zone, and if there was one thing Peaches was exceptional at, it was the creation of his healing saliva. When the kettle had gone from dull orange to normal gray, I grabbed an oven mitt and started the Earl Grey process.

  I had learned how to do this some time ago. It was different from the creation of my magnificent Deathwish javambrosia, but I had realized after some time that Monty without tea was a danger to us all. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. For the sake of the tri-state area, I learned the “proper” way to make boiled leaves in case we ever faced the emergency an out-of-control Montague would be.

  I didn’t think we were quite there yet, but I knew if Monty could reduce the Shadow Company trailer to dust without risking Roxanne, he would have. They had raised the stakes by threatening her. What they didn’t know is that they had signed their own death warrants.

  I sat on the Eames to rest my eyes for a few minutes.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  It was early afternoon when I opened my eyes.

  I had managed to catch a few hours of sleep and woke with a start. I dreamed I was drowning, my head being held underwater. I realized the reality wasn’t too far off as I pushed Peaches, the saliva monster, away from my face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Peaches gave me a low rumble and his eyes flickered with red light.

 

  Monty came in wearing a new Zegna mageiform. This one was a deeper black than usual with dark gray accents. The menace that radiated from his side of the room was palpable, but I didn’t say anything except point to the cup of tea on the counter.

  “Thank you,” Monty said, causing the cup to glow a soft orange, and bringing the water to a slow boil before taking a sip. “You’ve improved. I can almost drink this now.”

  I took a sip from my cold Deathwish and raised my cup in acknowledgement.

  “If you drank a real drink, and not boiled grass, you’d know what real power was,” I said. “You ready?”

  “Yes; one stop before we go.”

  “Where?”

  “We need to rectify our insurance plan.”

  “Rectify our…? Wait, we’re going to see the—”

  “No, but I have a solution to our Haven problem.”

  “What? You’re going to ask her to shift the entire place?”

  “Don’t be daft,” Monty said, heading to the door. “That would be impossible. Or at the very least improbable.”

  “Oh,” I said, slightly relieved. “I mean of course, that would be impossible. Haven is enormous, above and underground.”

  “Exactly. I’m going to have her shift everyone inside.”

  The words registered as sound, but my brain failed to process the meaning behind the sounds.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as we stepped into the garage elevator. “I thought I heard you say you were going to ask her to shift everyone inside Haven. Is this more of that non-funny mage hum
or?”

  “No, the Transporter was one of my calls earlier,” Monty said calmly. “The next stop is to secure payment and to preserve history.”

  “I know you’re speaking English, but most of the time it sounds like a foreign language,” I said confused. “Can you clarify in non-mage American?”

  “Not here,” Monty said. “I’ll explain everything at James’ establishment.”

  We arrived at the empty Randy Rump a few minutes later. It was still too early for the evening rush. I parked outside and locked the Dark Goat. Monty and Peaches went ahead as I gave the exterior a scan. If Rell was out there, he was making sure I didn’t see him. Jimmy was behind the counter, sharpening some blades as I crossed the threshold into the restaurant. He motioned over to the corner with his chin. Peaches padded over behind the counter and nudged Jimmy in the leg, nearly knocking him down. I turned to see where Jimmy had pointed.

  Sitting at a table in the far corner was Cecil.

  Cecil ran a hand through his short gray hair, pulled on his neatly trimmed goatee, and gave us a tight smile as we approached. A large mug of mead sat on the table in front of him, the sweet smell of honey filling the air as he took a long pull.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Monty said, taking a seat. “Were you able to procure my request?”

  “I don’t understand it, but yes,” Cecil said, as his hazel eyes shone with latent power. “How’s the Goat? Still intact, I’m assuming.”

  “Still,” I said, apologetically. “Sorry, I think you’ve created a monster with that one. I don’t think we can destroy it.”

  “On the plus side, I’m not getting requests for non-melting cars or the vehicles that don’t explode,” Cecil said. “For that, I thank you. It doesn’t fix the Beast situation, but I’m still working on that.”

  “Cecil? Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” Cecil said. “Do you need extra explosives to see if you can overload the defensive runes? I know we have a small-scale tactical device at the shop you can use.”

  “You have a nuke? Back at the shop? Really?”

  “Not nuclear; runic, much stronger, but no radiation,” Cecil corrected. “We could try that, but you’d have to be in the car when we detonated it.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds.

  “What? No, I don’t need extra explosives or small tactical devices, thanks,” I said, raising a hand. “I thought you owned the Duezy.”

  “Ah, that,” Cecil said, looking from Monty to me before taking another pull from his mug. “You’re wondering about the delivery tonight.”

  “It did cross my mind,” I said. “I thought there was only one Midnight Ghost made?”

  “Two,” Cecil said, holding up two fingers. “One I own, the original. The other…Well, you know who owns that one. Best not to mention names, even in here.”

  “Emmet and Armand made two? Amazing.”

  “I never said they made two,” Cecil answered. “They made one. SuNaTran, I, made the second, identical to the first with some minor adjustments.”

  “Adjustments I need you to implement tonight,” Monty said. “Can you do it remotely?”

  “It won’t be easy, but yes. Do you have a timeframe?”

  “Shortly after your delivery for a window of thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes means we can lose the automobile,” Cecil said concerned. “Are you certain? Replacing that one won’t be fast or inexpensive.”

  “Yes,” Monty said. “If it’s lost, I will commission a second one to be made. How soon can you make the other delivery?”

  “Moving that many tons of premium chocolate underground to an undisclosed and abandoned subway station without attracting attention will take some time,” Cecil said. “Are you certain it has to be tonight and one drop? There are only so many refrigerated trucks in the fleet.”

  “Yes to both,” Monty said. “Can you do it?”

  “I need at least three hours. I can’t guarantee less than that.”

  “Three hours will suffice. Call me the second the delivery is complete.”

  “Done,” Cecil said, taking one last pull from his enormous mug, before turning to me. “If you manage to destroy the car, try to survive long enough to get me some notes and the method of destruction.”

  “If something or someone manages to destroy the Dark Goat,” I said, “I don’t think I’m going to be worrying about taking notes. Have you tried asking some of the heavy-hitters to take a crack at it?”

  “No one wants to get close to either that car or the Beast,” Cecil said, standing as a red Lamborghini Urus pulled up outside. “That’s for me. I wanted to apologize about the blacklist, Strong. Dragons are bad for business, which is why I stay away from them. It’s not personal.”

  “Except for tonight.”

  “Tonight is the rare exception, and it only happens once every few decades,” Cecil said with a small sigh. “It’s an honor contract, which is the only reason we fulfill it.”

  “You may not have to, after tonight,” Monty said. “If all goes as planned, you will be free from the obligation.”

  “That would be the desired outcome, but I’m dealing with you two,” Cecil said, shaking his head as he walked away. “The chances of this happening without things exploding are slim to none. Good luck.”

  “Great to hear how much confidence he has in us,” I said as Cecil left the Rump, the door closing softly behind him. “Tons of chocolate?”

  “Payment for the shift, which should leave the sorcerers at Haven without victims,” Monty said. “James? The back room, please?”

  Jimmy pointed to the back.

  “Make sure she leaves the way she came,” Jimmy said, sounding upset. “I don’t want her presence lingering in here. Scares the customers and screws with the defenses.”

  “Understood,” Monty said, heading to the back room. “I will convey your concern.”

  “Monty?” I asked as he opened the door to the back room. “Who is Jimmy talking about?”

  I felt a chill in the air and turned as Monty closed the door to the back room, pressing the runic sequence that would seal us in with an energy signature that kicked my limbic brain into flight overdrive.

  “He’s talking about me,” a female voice said. “Hello, Simon.”

  I followed the sound of the familiar voice across the room and my blood decided freezing in place was an excellent idea. Dressed in all black and sitting on one of the chairs around the large table, I could just make out a figure obscured by a dark nimbus of energy.

  “Do I know you?” I asked, opening my jacket to give me access to Grim Whisper. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t know me in this form, no,” the woman said. “But you know of me, and his uncle knows me”—she pointed to Monty—“intimately.”

  It was the Morrigan.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Worse—it was the Badb Catha.

  “Monty, why are we in a locked room with the scary aspect of the Chooser of the Slain?” I asked, barely keeping my voice under control.

  It wasn’t fear I was feeling exactly. Fear had packed its bags and run screaming out of the Randy Rump. What I was feeling was a deep, paralyzing, underlying, soul-gripping dread, that squeezed me into mind-numbing shock. I took a few deep breaths and tried to get a grip without losing all control of my bodily functions.

  “She was the second-to-last call I made,” Monty said, his jaw set. “We’re here to arrange terms.”

  “Terms?” I asked, worried. “What terms? What are you talking about?”

  “Simon, we’re out of our element,” Monty said. “Neither of us is strong enough or wields enough power to confront an enclave of dragons.”

  “An enclave of dragons? Since when are we confronting an enclave of dragons?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. “We’re confronting Magnus and possibly Rell. When did an enclave enter the picture?”

  “The moment we agreed to be part of this operation
,” Monty said. “Word will go out that we challenged Magnus. If we manage to kill him what do you think the response will be?”

  I paused and gave Monty’s words thought.

  “The enclave will be out for blood.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Magnus and the enclave will be out for blood,” I said, seeing the no-win scenario. “Goddammit, how could I not see this? They outplayed us.”

  “You wanted to do the honorable thing,” Monty said. “You wanted to reconcile Rott’s pain regarding his daughter’s death, but we are dealing with honorless individuals. Men who would threaten an entire hospital of defenseless patients, who would plunge this city into a dragon war, without regard for the consequences Then there is a dragon who only sees tradition and your death.”

  “But her?” I asked, pointing at Badb. “Isn’t this a little extreme? Why would she help us?”

  A large crow about twice the size of a normal crow sat perched on one of the other chairs. It screeched, making me jump as it flapped its wings. Then it really creeped me out by wailing.

  “Where there is war, carnage, rage, and violence,” Badb said softly, her voice clear in the emptiness of the room, “I am there. If forces are arrayed against you, then I will welcome them into my garden and reap their lives. Do you agree to the terms, mage?”

  “Terms? What are these terms, Monty? Why are we discussing terms with her?”

  The dread in the pit of my stomach clenched into a fist of apprehension. Was Monty going uber dark this time? Dealing with the Morrigan was shady enough, but this aspect of hers had only one purpose…death.

  “I agree,” Monty said, his voice steel. “All on the battlefield who are not under my aegis are yours to do with as you please.”

  “How speaks your shieldbearer, the Marked of Kali?”

  “Why does she care about my opinion?”

  “Part of the terms requires we be in alignment. If you need to adjust the terms, now is the time to do so.”

  I turned slowly to face Badb. A few deep breaths later, I managed to get my emotions under control.