Silver Clouds Dirty Sky A Montague and Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 4)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  I lifted the shard again and looked closely. The canine-shaped monster was easily ten times the size of Peaches. Its glowing red eyes were focused on the demon in the cage outside of the pub. I felt its low rumble as a tremor along the floor.

  “That’s Peaches?” I asked in disbelief. “What the fu—?”

 

  I held my ears in pain, as his voice slammed into my brain.

  “What is it?” Monty asked, concerned, as I held my head to keep it from splitting. “What happened?”

  “He’s loud—too loud.” I checked my ears to make sure my brain wasn’t leaking from them. “What is this, Terminator mode?”

  “You can hear him?” Monty asked. “What did he say?”

  “Yes, I can hear him,” I said. “He nearly gave me a stroke. He’s not asking for meat, I can tell you that much.”

  “Oh, good.” Monty sighed. “It means you can stop him.”

  “Good? What do you mean I can stop him?” I asked. “That thing isn’t Peaches.”

  “Underneath that mountain of destructive muscle and sharpened fangs of obliteration, dwells the creature you love and adore.” Monty pointed at the monster, as it got to its feet and cratered the floor of the pub. “You need to reestablish your bond.”

  “But I can still hear him,” I said, still rubbing an ear. “The bond isn’t broken on my end.”

  “Whatever we did seems to have interrupted the bond for a moment.” Monty looked over the bar as the Peaches Monster stomped out the pub.

  “You mean what you did, right?”

  “I don’t recall holding the flask and giving him more in the midst of an energy infusion.”

  “He was dying.” I looked away. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “It seems that whatever occurred removed the poison but caused this transformation.” Monty nodded. “This must be what Uncle Dex was referring to, when he mentioned that breaking the bond would unleash a creature that’s nearly impossible to kill and capable of wonderful amounts of destruction.”

  “And I’m supposed to stop him how?”

  “Do you have any meat?”

  I gave him my best Eastwood squint, easily a four on my glare-o-meter. “No, I’m not currently carrying a truckload of meat.”

  “Well, he is your creature.” Monty dusted off his jacket, as he made his way from behind the bar and took in the damage. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  I cautiously followed Hulk Peaches out. He growled and rumbled at the demon.

  Laughter erupted from the cage. “You decline my offer, mage, yet summon this beast?” it asked, pointing at Monster Peaches. “A dark mage of your level should embrace my gift and ascend even higher.”

  Monty stepped out next to me. “I didn’t summon anything, and he doesn’t belong to me.” He pointed at me with his chin. “He belongs to him.”

  The demon looked at Monty and then at me in confusion.

  “He isn’t a mage, he barely wields magic.” The demon stared at me. “You are an anomaly, but you do not possess the power to control a creature of this level. This must be a deception.”

  I walked around to face the Galactus version of my hellhound. “Hey, boy,” I said, as gently as I could while standing next to a monster of muscle and large fangs. “How are you feeling?”

  Peaches swiveled his head to face me. His glowing eyes focused on me and, for a second, fear rushed through my body. The voice in my head urged me to run away screaming. I considered it for a few seconds before ignoring it.

 

  The force of his voice in my head nearly drove me to my knees. I held a hand to my head and held the other one up in surrender.

  “Could you turn it down to a five on the volume?” I asked. “Since when do you speak like a university professor?”

  “Is that a university professor with Vinnie Jones’ voice?” Monty deadpanned. “Do you have a concussion?”

 

  Peaches turned to face the demon, who shredded the cage and broke free. Runes materialized along Peaches’ flank as Monty began to gesture.

  “Your pathetic cage only delayed the inevitable, mage.” The demon took two steps forward, and stopped when Peaches gave off a low growl. “This stupid beast will not stop me from my task. Prepare to die, ma—”

  Peaches’ eyes grew bright, as beams of light shot forth and blasted the demon. A few seconds later, the demon was gone, along with most of the stone where it stood.

  “I thought you said demons were intelligent?” I asked, looking down at the charred stone. “This one didn’t expect to get omega beamed.”

  “I said some were. Clearly this one wasn’t,” Monty answered. “Do you think you can get him down to a normal size, so we don’t cause a panic on the streets of London?”

  I walked over to where Peaches stood. I raised a hand and slowly petted his side. I was conscious of the fact that he could probably chomp me in two with one bite. He swiveled his head and looked at me.

 

  You need to be a lot smaller, or we’re going to need a herd of cows. This was my first thought as he tried to melt my brain with the Galactus Voice of Doom.

  “I’m going to need you to get back to normal size before we get you food, boy,” I said, still petting his side. “I’m sure we can get you some more black pudding.”

 

  “Wait, you heard me?”

  “Of course I heard you,” Monty said. “You just asked it to reduce from enormous, panic-inducing, monstrosity to its normal, panic-inducing size.”

  “Not you, him.” I pointed at ginormous Peaches.

  “You do have a concussion.” Monty stared at me for a few seconds. “Hasn’t your creature always heard you? Would you like to sit down?”

  “No, I don’t want to sit down,” I snapped back. “And I don’t have a concussion. My head is pretty hard.”

  “At least on that we agree,” Monty said with a nod. “Do you think you can clarify what you meant—in English?”

  “He heard my thoughts.” I looked at the Lockjaw version of Peaches who stood immobile and made the butterflies in my stomach uneasy—because standing next to a hellhound the size of a small bus is never a pleasant feeling. “He heard what I said without my speaking it.”

  “It’s possible the bond was strengthened by the infusion.” Monty rubbed his chin. “We need to find an artifacts dealer, and roaming the streets of London with the Hound of the Baskervilles would be unwise. Can you” —he made a motion with his hands—“make him smaller?”

  “I don’t know how he got supersized in the first place,” I said, stepping back and taking in the immensity of his canine enormity. “It’s not like he has a shrink switch.”

  “It will be dawn soon.” Monty looked up the street. “Once someone sees him, what’s left of the Consortium, as well as whatever group Thomas is part of will be after us. I’m going to get us transportation.”

  “You may want to get a truc—”

  “And no, I’m not getting a lorry,” he said, cutting me off. “Fix him.”

  Monty pulled out his phone and walked inside the pub, leaving me outside with industrial-sized Peaches. I looked up into his face. His eyes gleamed with latent power, and the runes along his sides pulsed with energy. I had no idea how to get him smaller.

  Impossible to kill and capable of wonderful amounts of destruction was pretty much what I was looking at. Monty was right, if the sun rose, and Peaches was still this size, he’d get noticed—and fast. I wanted to try our mind-link again.

  Do you know how to shrink yourself down to size?

 

  He could hear my thoughts.

  “You mana
ged to break a hellhound. Truly impressive, Strong.”

  I turned at the voice and stared at Hades.

  SEVENTEEN

  HE WAS DRESSED in a slate gray Desmond Merrion Supreme, with a pale blue Battistoni shirt, and finished with a patterned Zegna tie. The Testonis he wore on his feet barely made a sound as he stepped over to the newly enlarged Peaches.

  The ensemble would’ve given Piero a fashion aneurysm.

  “I understood you and your mage partner’s propensity for destruction,” he said, looking up at Peaches, “but I never would have foreseen this—considering that you’re mortality-challenged.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He raised an eyebrow at the destruction of the pub and the charred stone where the demon was contained. “But it seems you’re up to the usual. Where’s Montague?”

  Monty stepped out of the pub, and narrowed his eyes at the god of the Underworld before looking at me. “You called him?” he asked. “I said figure it out, not make it worse.”

  “I didn’t call him, he just poofed in.”

  “Good evening to you, too, Montague,” Hades said with a nod. “I stopped by the Tate on the way over. Fascinating art. If you ever have the time, you should drop by. The entire building is doing a Cubist interpretation of a museum—Picasso would be proud.”

  “Why are you here?” Monty looked up the street. “Where did you put the sword?”

  “This transformation”—Hades lifted his walking stick and pointed at the planet-sized Peaches—“only occurs when the bond between hound and human is broken. Imagine my surprise when I arrive and find Strong alive, trying to speak to his hound.”

  “Do you know how to get a hellhound smaller?” I asked, knowing it was a bad idea to ask Hades for any favors.

  “Of course I do—with Cerberus,” he said with a smile. “Each hound is unique. You will have to discover what works for yours. I was only here to prevent the cataclysm they create when they transform into unstoppable engines of destruction.”

  “Excuse me? You just swung by to check in?”

  “Yes, Simon,” he said. “I happen to be a god. Dropping by unannounced is part of what we do.”

  “And what? Monster Peaches called you?”

  “Bad hellhound PR inevitably leads back to Cerberus, which leads back to me, and then it’s a mountain of paperwork, dealing with damages, loss of life, destroyed cities, and infrastructure,” he said, waving his hand. “One headache after another. Thankfully, it seems you have this under control. He doesn’t seem to be going on a rampage.”

  “Under control? I don’t know how he got to this size in the first place.”

  “Then you have a problem.” Hades pointed his stick at me. “Bigger than the mess of demons infesting this city.”

  “What do you know about that?” Monty asked warily. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Long enough for me to notice.” Hades sniffed. “They really need to get some demon exterminators—but who’re you going to call? Demons are a nasty business.”

  “You’re the god of the Underworld,” I said. “You don’t like demons?”

  “Don’t confuse your pantheons. My name is not Satan.” Hades pet Peaches’ side as he spoke. “Demons and their ilk are his thing, not mine. I prefer not dealing with any of you on the surface, if I can help it.”

  “Yet, here you are,” I said, before my brain got the memo that it was monumentally suicidal to taunt a god—especially the god of the Underworld who also happened to be one of the big three. “I meant, thank you for being here?”

  He walked over to where I stood, and I felt the sheer power come off him in waves. Peaches looked at him, but he remained growlless and rumblefree, which only proved he was smarter than I was.

  “Strong, do you know why I don’t blast you into oblivion?” Hades asked with a smile that did nothing to put me at ease.

  “The possibility that I may come back?” I answered weakly.

  “Well, there’s that, and the fact that a part of me—a very small, infinitesimal part of me—likes you.” He smiled again, which made me afraid. “However, you try my patience, and there may come a time I do blast you into small little Simon particles to test this immortality of yours, even if it pisses off Kali.”

  He said the last part while tapping my chest with his walking stick. For a moment, it felt like each tap would be my last. I visibly sighed when he turned to Monty, who noticeably tensed but kept his hands gesture-free.

  “The sword?” Monty asked. “Is it still in your possession?”

  “I placed it somewhere safe. It would be less than efficient against demons,” Hades said, shaking his head. “Unless you bonded to it, which we both know would be unwise.”

  “I have no intention of bonding to that, or any blade,” Monty answered. “I do, however, need a seraph until we can get off this island.”

  “You won’t find one on this island. Seraphs are extremely rare,” Hades said. “And it appears that whoever is inviting the demons prepared for that contingency.”

  “Thomas,” I said with venom. “He poisoned Peaches.”

  Hades raised an eyebrow at me. “Unlikely. Hellhounds are notoriously difficult to stop, and they can eat almost anything, but if he managed to incapacitate your hound—he’s dangerous.”

  “He poisoned him and then set a demon on us.”

  “Your hound seems recovered, albeit a little on the large side.” Hades looked around. “Where is this demon?”

  “Peaches”— I pointed at him—“shot him with some laser beams from his eyes. Went total Cyclops on him.”

  “A Cyclops only possesses one eye, Strong,” Hades said, staring admiringly at Peaches. “A baleful glare? And so young—well done, hound.”

  Peaches rumbled and shook his head. Which was normally not an issue when he was normal sized. At celestial-body size, his drool slammed into me, drenching and threatened to knock me down. It mysteriously missed both Hades and Monty.

  “Ugh, dog,” I said, shaking most of it off. “Keep your slobber under control.”

 

  “You need to lower the volume while we deal with these demons.” Besides I’m not going to get you meat at this size. There aren’t enough butcher shops in London to feed you.

  “I see you’ve learned to communicate with him, good.”

  “Bollocks,” Monty uttered under his breath. “Without those blades, facing demons will be problematic.”

  “There is a solution, if you would like it.” Hades cocked his head to one side.

  “The cost?” Monty asked.

  “To be determined at a later date.” Hades looked at his watch, a Patek Phillipe Sky Moon Tourbillion. “I do have other pressing matters to attend to, and London is not in imminent danger, at least not from a hellhound. Yes or no?”

  Agreeing was giving Hades a blank check. I shook my head at Monty. The cost would be too high.

  “Yes,” Monty said after a moment. “Provided the cost does not require a violation of my inherent beliefs.”

  “Spoken like a true mage.” Hades smiled. “Very well. You can transform your blades, any blade, actually, into a seraph. You only need the right spell and symbol.”

  “That would require one of the lost runes, which I don’t possess,” Monty said, rubbing his chin. “No one knows where to find those. Hence the title of lost.”

  “Except, maybe, a god of the Underworld.” I looked at Hades, who nodded.

  “Those runes aren’t lost, just protected,” Hades said. “There is a Wordweaver on this island. She’s one of the guardians of the runes. Her title is the Dahvina.”

  “Which means?” I asked, curious. “Sounds very dignified.”

  “It means let Montague do all the talking,” Hades answered with a sigh. “If I recall, she comes from an old royal lineage—the house of Wessex, if I’m not mistaken. She is one of the oldest Wordweavers, so tread carefully.”
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  “So Dahvina is a noble?” I looked at Monty, who gave me a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “Do I bow or curtsy? Monty, what is the protocol?”

  “Try to behave in her presence. Do not use improper speech, and give her this.”

  Hades produced a small silver key and handed it to Monty.

  “A key?” Monty asked, turning it in his hand. “To what?”

  “Knowledge, of course.” Hades started walking away before stopping again. “A few things…”

  “Yes?” Monty asked, looking up from the key.

  “Get the hound off the street before a policeman glances down the street, has a heart attack, and then calls the Met.”

  “It would’ve helped if you could’ve given me the key to bringing him down to size,” I said, pulling on Peaches, who refused to budge.

  “I did help you, Strong.”

  “Anything else?” Monty said quickly, before I could answer.

  “Extrapolate what occurs if Thomas and his associates wrest power from the Consortium.”

  “I have,” Monty said. “None of the scenarios end well.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Hades nodded and walked off, disappearing before he reached the end of the street.

  “What the hell was that about?” I asked, trying to push Peaches, who now decided this was the best time to imitate a large statue. “Extrapolate what?”

  “It’s the same thing your vampire was describing, except on a larger scale,” Monty answered, walking in front of Peaches and gesturing. “If Thomas and whoever is helping him take the Consortium, the balance will be upset.”

  “It won’t be a civil war, they’ll destroy London.”

  “To start with, yes.” He nodded and began gesturing again.

  “What are you doing?” I looked at him, confused. “Are we under an attack I can’t see?”

  “Getting your creature inside and off the street.” He finished gesturing, and a sausage the size of my leg materialized in front of Peaches. Followed by another, closer to the pub. The last one was inside the pub itself.

  “That is one large sausage,” I said, poking it with a toe. “Where did you learn that?”

  “Uncle Dex gave me the spell, but I didn’t think it would actually work on this scale.” Monty shrugged. “Once your creature is inside, figure out how to reduce his size. He’ll never fit in the vehicle like that.”