Thomas grew serious. “Nigel’s arrogance killed him, not a demon.”
“Can you trace the source of the summoning?” Monty asked.
“We tried without success,” Thomas said quietly. “Mages are being targeted, especially the demonologists. I don’t know why yet.”
“Wait, doesn’t that mean you’re a target?” I looked at Thomas, who smiled back at me.
“Not an easy or a soft one.”
“Is the Consortium after you?” Monty asked as the Range Rover pulled away and headed in the direction of the Tate. “Are we walking into a magical inquisition?”
“Is that like the Spanish Inquisition?” I asked. “Because mi Español is rusty.”
“Worse.” Monty looked across the Thames at St. Paul’s Cathedral. “The magical inquisition consisted of mages judging what was or wasn’t acceptable. They killed or erased whomever they considered to be transgressors.”
“Don’t mention your past to them, Tristan,” Thomas said, looking around. “We can’t speak here. Find me when you’re done and I’ll tell you everything I know. This is a dark time.”
“The usual?” Monty turned to face the Tate and pulled on his cuffs. Thomas stepped a few feet away and gestured. White runes floated in the air in front of him and disappeared.
“Always on time,” Thomas said with a nod, his face serious. “Keep your wonderful creature close, Simon. They will try to neutralize it due to its origins.”
“Over my dead body,” I growled.
“That will probably be the plan,” he said. “Don’t trust them. Don’t believe them. Right now they’re operating from fear, which makes even the most intelligent quite stupid.”
He crouched down and rubbed Peaches again before stepping back and extending an arm. He pulled it down as if he were unzipping a dress and stepped through a rift. It closed after him silently.
“I noticed,” I said, nudging Peaches with my knee. “You can’t bite anyone in here—so don’t ask.”
“I thought you said the island was gated?” I turned to Monty. “How did he manage that?”
“That wasn’t teleportation.” He stepped close to where the rift had opened and narrowed his eyes. “It’s very similar to a Smith bridge. You don’t want to travel this way—trust me.”
“Still,” I said, adjusting Grim Whisper and my dark blade, Ebonsoul, “it’s a good skill to have on an island that’s locked down.”
Monty nodded. “Good point.”
I turned to face the Tate Modern, looming in the dark before us.”
“Are you ready?” Monty asked. “This will most likely become unpleasant.”
I rubbed Peaches behind the ears.
“We’ll try diplomacy first,” I said, adjusting my holster.
SIX
WE WERE INFORMED that the audience was moved to the top level of the Tate Modern proper. The Blavatnik building was still sealed due to runic interference.
“Is that code for someone screwed up a spell?” I whispered to Monty.
“Possibly, or someone set off the defenses and they need to be reset.”
Five mages surrounded us, positioned two in front and three behind. They were dressed in combat armor, and escorted us from the lobby of the Blavatnik Building to the monstrosity that was the actual museum. We entered from the Thames side into a large open space. I saw that, in addition to being mages, they were armed with conventional weapons.
“Why didn’t they send these guys to the White Tower?”
“ECU—Elite Combat Units. Not expendable.” Monty glanced at our escort. “These are the men they send after Bart and his group become casualties.”
The entire building thrummed with power. I could see runes on most of the walls, halls, and ceilings. “This place is covered in runes,” I said under my breath. “Paranoid much?”
“This is one of the general meeting spaces,” Monty answered, looking around. “Its main purpose is to serve as a neutral meeting space for countries. Think of James’s butcher shop, on a global scale. What the Dark Council is to the city, the Penumbra Consortium is to the Eastern Hemisphere.”
We arrived at the top floor and crossed a long hallway covered in runes. I made out some of them as dampeners. Most of them were too complicated for me to decipher.
“I don’t think you can cast in here.” I looked up and down the corridor. A large wooden double-door sat in the center. “Do you still have your blades?”
I looked him over to see where they would be stored, since he wasn’t carrying the sheaths on his back.
Monty nodded, and followed the runes leading to the doors. “Those runes are particularly nasty,” he said under his breath. “If anything happens, we resort to your methods.”
“Bullets and blades,” I said, looking at the large doors. “That’s a language I can understand.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m a little concerned that they haven’t taken my weapons.”
“Arrogance, or ignorance.” Monty looked at the large doors in front of us. “Or perhaps this is all a façade, and our fate has been pre-determined.”
“Now I’m feeling super-confident about this meeting.”
Each of the mages in front of us stood facing one of the doors. They placed their hands in sequence on different parts of their respective door. Large locks slid back, and the doors swung inward slowly, leading into a darker chamber.
I stopped walking and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the poor lighting. The chamber lights came on, momentarily blinding me. Large tables were placed on either side, all surrounding the lowered platform in the center.
An immense table dominated the center space, with seven people seated behind it in large chairs. The space was designed so that you were looked down upon from the large table once you stood in the center. Three of the walls were a rich mahogany and covered in the same runes I saw in the corridor outside. They stretched down the wall and into the green marble floor beneath us.
On the right side of the room, a window-wall allowed an expansive view of the Thames, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and North London. The glass appeared to be several inches thick. I saw the glint of runes dance across its surface.
From the energy in the room, I could tell most, if not all, the people seated were magic-users of some kind. I saw Michiko standing in the center of the floor with an escort as large as ours. A collective gasp filled the room when Peaches entered next to me.
“A hellhound,” I heard. It was followed by, “It must be contained and destroyed. How dare he bring that filth in here?”
“Monty, maybe you want to talk to them before I let Peaches hit the mage buffet table?”
I looked down and realized I was still carrying the bag with the five pounds of black pudding.
“No meat for you until we’re done,” I muttered under my breath.
Chi glanced back as we entered the chamber. We walked until the two escorts merged. Now we were surrounded by ten armed mages in combat armor. I couldn’t have felt any safer.
“So good of you to join us,” Chi whispered as we stood next to her. “What took so long?”
“The traffic was hellish.” I looked around, examining the faces around the table. “They look upset. Is this a mage thing or something Monty did?”
“I haven’t done anything…yet,” Monty said, narrowing his eyes and examining the room. “And from the looks of things, I won’t be doing anything anytime soon.”
The seven Consortium members were a mix of men and women. With all the runic activity in the space, I couldn’t tell how strong they were, but I did know one thing: they weren’t happy to see us or to be called into an audience in the middle of the night. They each wore what I would call business formal wear. We could’ve been sitting in a boardroom discussing the direction of a corporation and they would’ve
fit right in.
Most of them looked uncomfortable, except for the center suit. He looked calm and relaxed, and leaned forward to study Peaches. He leaned back and steepled his fingers, resting them on his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the rest of us.
“On what authority is this audience convened?” Suit on the far left-hand side asked. “And who is the master of the demon-hound?” There was a lot of grumbling at the mention of a demon-hound.
It was going to be one of those meetings. This was just like any other organizing body of people—except with twitchy mages. It meant we were in the middle of a pompous circumstance. Lots of ego, red tape, kowtowing, and ass-kissing until they were satisfied we were inferior enough to be of little threat to them. It was the kind of meeting that made me twitchy.
Chi stepped forward, radiating controlled menace.
“I convened this audience.” Her voice sliced through the chamber with surgical precision. “I am Michiko Nakatomi, current head of the Dark Council in New York City.”
“You are a long way from home, Ms. Nakatomi, if it really is you,” far right-hand Suit said. “How do we know you aren’t a demon sent to infiltrate this prestigious assembly?”
“Surely the institution of the Penumbra Consortium, with its rich history and accomplished governing body, would have safeguards in place to combat and prevent such an incursion?” she responded somberly.
“Well said,” Center Suit stated. “You are correct. If you were demons, you would have been incinerated where you stand. That doesn’t change the fact that you are quite a distance from your home. Why are you here?”
“We were dealing with a contingent of Blood Hunters, and needed to egress Ellis Island,” she said, focusing on the center suit. “The ambient energy of the island must have enhanced our teleportation circle.”
“Let me get back to that in a moment, shall we?” Center Suit asked. “Who are the gentlemen with you?”
Chi looked over at me, and motioned with her head. It took me a few seconds to catch on that she wanted us to introduce ourselves.
“I’m Simon Strong, and this is my associate, Tristan Montague.” I looked down and rubbed Peaches’ neck. “And this is Peaches—not demon-hound.”
Center Suit focused on Monty. “How did you manage to circumvent our gate?”
“And, who am I addressing?” Monty asked, as if he were asking about the weather. This seemed to give Center Suit an atomic wedgie, judging from his brief expression. He got himself under control, sighed, and narrowed his eyes.
“I am Delane, Arch Mage of the Consortium.”
“You know full well how they bypassed the gate.” far left-hand Suit pointed at Monty. “That one is a dark mage, and the other is a demon trafficker. Both led by a blood-drinker. It’s as clear as day.”
“Thank you for your valuable input, Mage Rothford.” Delane held up a hand. “I would, however, like to hear them explain how they managed to teleport inside a gated island and into a protected place of power, if you don’t mind.”
Rothford grumbled and crossed his arms, as Delane focused on Monty again. “Please continue, Mage Montague.”
The way he said ‘mage’ made me want to punch him in the jewels. It was the ‘you are fortunate I allow you to breathe the same air I’m breathing’ attitude that irked me. I peeked over at Monty and saw he was unbothered, so I reserved my jewel-punching for later.
“You overestimate my abilities, Arch Mage Delane.” Monty gave a slight bow. “It is as the Dark Council head stated. The rush of ambient energies must have disproportionately augmented the teleportation circle we were using, creating what Ziller refers to as a quantum skip.”
Delane tapped his upper lip and stared at Monty.
“I’m familiar with Ziller’s work, and the quantum skip would only work if a temporal displacement was in effect,” Delane said with a smug smile. “To my recollection, no such displacement exists on Ellis Island.”
“I managed to disable the runic dampeners on the island for the space of ten minutes, causing a temporal shift,” Monty answered. “Once the shift passed, the temporal flow was restored at an accelerated rate.”
“Liar,” Right-hand Mage said with venom. “I know your lineage, Montague. No one in your family is that powerful. Not even your father.”
“Mage Anderson, please control yourself. Accusations—” began Delane.
“My son, Bart, saw him speaking with the demon that attacked them on the way here,” Anderson said, thrusting a finger at Monty. “Do you deny it, Mage Montague?”
I didn’t like where this meeting was going. I sensed Chi was feeling the same thing. The escort around us had made a subtle shift in attitude, and I could tell things were slipping away. If it kept up, it was going to get bloody—and fast.
“How can we help you?” I asked loudly.
“Excuse me?” Anderson looked at me. “What did you say?”
“I noticed you seem to have a demon problem.” I glanced at Monty, who was subtly shaking his head. “Maybe we can help with that. I heard you already lost one mage—this Nigel person who’ll never have another headache.”
“Mage Warrenton’s demise was an unfortunate accident.” Anderson glanced at the mages seated next to him. They all nodded in agreement except Delane. “We don’t need assistance from…What are you, anyway?”
“I’m a detective, and we”—I gestured to Monty and myself—“specialize in situations that are out of the ordinary.”
Monty groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Of course he would say that to deflect suspicion,” Rothford said. “He walks around with a demon-hound, and the other one speaks to them.”
I noticed the escort had spread out around us. Excellent firing positions if the target was in the center. That target currently being Chi, Monty, Peaches and me. Some of the other mages started raising their voices now, again all except Delane, who sat there and stared at us.
Delane raised his hand, and the table started to calm down.
“At the very least, destroy that demon-hound,” Rothford argued as the other mages stopped speaking. There seemed to be a consensus on the Peaches extermination front. “If he’s not a demon trafficker, have him dispatch the demon-hound.”
My anger was escalating, and I was having trouble keeping it in check. Large doses of ignorance in others usually triggered that response in me.
“He’s not a demon-hound,” I said, my voice on edge. “He’s a hell-hound, and his name is Peaches.”
I looked at Monty and then at Chi. They both just shook their heads.
“He admits it’s a foul creature from the depths of Hell!” Rothford yelled, with entirely too much glee. “Destroy it!”
I crouched down and covered Peaches with my body. The mages were yelling over each other until Delane pounded the table with a gavel.
“By your own admittance, that”—Delane pointed at Peaches—“is a foul creature from the depths of Hell.”
“I didn’t say the depths of Hell.” I looked down at Peaches. “I don’t think he’s ever been to the Underworld.”
“The demon-hound must be destroyed,” Anderson said. “And its master with it. All in favor?”
All of the hands went up, even Delane’s, who looked at me and gave me a ‘you screwed yourself’ smile. I thought about giving him a one-fingered response but decided it would be better to just shoot him.
“Ms. Nakatomi—if that is your real name, we will inform the Dark Council of your trafficking with demons and your subsequent extermination,” Anderson said, with an apologetic look that said ‘sorry, but we have to kill you now because we’re all paranoid idiots—you know how these things go.’ “Truly sorry.”
I inched forward to Peaches’ ear. “You can bite everyone at the table, boy.”
“As much as you want—just wait until I tell you, and don’t eat any of them.” I really hoped he would be able to do his thing, or I was going to find out just h
ow indestructible a hellhound was.
“I just want to go on the record saying that the institution of the Penumbra Consortium, with its rich history and accomplished governing body—totally and completely sucks.” I stood slowly as I spoke, and made sure I had access to Ebonsoul and Grim Whisper.
“Eloquently stated, Mr. Strong.” Delane looked at the escorts. “Destroy the hell-hound first, then his summoner.”
The ECU escort stepped back and began raising their guns.
“Go, boy!” I yelled.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
SEVEN
MONTY RAISED HIS hands as if he would surrender, reached back, and removed the Sorrows from a cross sheath that materialized as he drew them. Chi extended her hands, and her nails became claws. I drew Grim Whisper and Ebonsoul, as Peaches leaped, disappearing mid-jump.
For a split-second, I thought about using my mark, but after last time, Karma was becoming a real bitch and I didn’t want to chance her slapping me into oblivion, thinking I summoned her. I did, however, make sure my mala was accessible.
“Now I know why they didn’t disarm us,” I said, firing persuader rounds into our escort. Their body armor did absolutely nothing to prevent their effect.
Persuader rounds were designed to scramble neural networks. They were ideal for dealing with magic-users and normals alike. They hurt like hell but were non-lethal.
When a round hit you, it caused your synapses to misfire all over the place. For mages, it meant no more spell-casting for a good ten minutes. It also made the target lose control of all bodily functions and gave new meaning to the term “pissed-off mage.” Probably another reason the magic community disliked me. I dropped four of the escorts before the rest scattered for cover behind the tables.
Monty slid between two of the escorts and swung his swords. The Sorrows wailed as they hit the men and launched them into the walls with enough force to crack the wood. I turned in time to see Chi grab one of our escorts and casually fling him into another escort behind her. Both of them bounced off a wall, unconscious.
Silver Clouds Dirty Sky A Montague and Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 4) Page 3
