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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “No, it’s something more.”

  She nodded. “It will come to you, and when it does, you will face a choice.” She turned as if listening to a distant sound. “Two of your strands are clear and untangled. But that last one, even I can’t help you with that. For that, you need to go to the source.”

  “Kali?”

  She nodded. “Even then, there are no guarantees,” she said. “I don’t know why she would curse you alive. I have no precedent in my archives. She has a singular dislike for you.”

  “The word you’re looking for is hate.” I remembered the last time I spoke to Kali. “I interrupted one of her plans, and she didn’t appreciate it.”

  Monty and I had just stopped her from taking down Shiva. To say she was displeased by my actions was like saying Monty loved being called a wizard. Words couldn’t begin to describe her feelings toward me.

  “Where’s Monty?” I asked as another Wordweaver entered and placed my clothes in a neat pile on the bed at my feet.

  “Why don’t you get dressed?” She stood, tapped my leg, and headed to the door. “We still have much to discuss. When you’re ready, please join me in my office.”

  “Did Monty succeed in making the seraphs?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  She left the room, and I sat in the bed alone. I twisted and stretched my body slowly, making sure I didn’t cross the agony threshold. I found I was able to move mostly pain-free so I got dressed. She had managed to give me answers without answering anything.

  “Typical mage-speak,” I muttered. “Convoluted explanations, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

  I shook my head, realizing I had just barded myself.

  I got dressed, throwing on my jacket, and felt the familiar weight of the flask in my pocket. I tightened my holster around Grim Whisper, picked up the sheath, and followed her out.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A WORDWEAVER STOOD outside my room as I opened the door. I felt surprisingly rested for someone recently deceased.

  “Dahvina’s office?” I asked as I looked up and down the maze of corridors, feeling completely lost. “She’s expecting me.”

  “This way, please,” the Weaver said and walked down the corridor.

  She was dressed in the typical Weaver robe with gold brocade along the edges. Tall, she stood at least six inches over my six feet. I wondered if the Wordweavers had a height requirement, since every one I had met towered over me, except Dahvina. They reminded me of Valkyries, only with more magic and less menace.

  We headed down the corridor and made a few turns. Every corridor resembled the one we had just left. We walked on for several more minutes until I was completely lost. At the end of this corridor, I recognized the large double doors to Dahvina’s office. They were open and I could hear voices from inside.

  My guide stopped at the door and motioned for me to enter.

  “Thank you,” I said with a nod. “I would still be looking for this place if you hadn’t brought me here.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “The Corridors of Chaos are designed to thwart travel through our compound. Without knowledge of their design, you would be trapped in the endless corridors forever.”

  I shuddered at the mention of Chaos’ name. That was one god I didn’t want to meet again for another eon or two.

  “Forever?” I asked and she nodded. “I’ll make sure I don’t wander the halls, then. Thanks again.”

  I stood at the door and peeked in. A Weaver was on one of the rolling ladders, looking for books. Three more Weavers occupied the chairs in front of Dahvina’s redwood desk.

  I saw Monty standing over one of the desks, reading a parchment covered in symbols and runes. Dahvina was sitting behind her desk and listening intently to the Weavers speaking. The three were all dressed in Wordweaver robes, except their brocades were red and gold, which I assumed meant they were Master Weavers or advanced in some way.

  “—demons are running in the streets, and they brought them here. To our home!” Middle Weaver said, indignantly. “Cast them out.”

  The other two Weavers nodded solemnly. Dahvina sighed and removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose before replacing them.

  I joined Monty at the table. Peaches perked up when he saw me. The vellum Monty examined was covered with runes. I saw some images of demons and a few circles covered in symbols that reminded me of the circle in Thomas’s bat-lair.

 

  I crouched down, rubbed him between the ears, and patted his chest. We’ll get meat later. I think we have to leave here soon.

  “The mage is a novice,” Left Weaver said. “He’s barely over two centuries old, an undisciplined child.”

  I glanced over at Monty, who didn’t look up from the vellum and seemed to be ignoring the Weavers. He gave me the ‘don’t say a word’ look, and for a few moments, I considered remaining silent.

  “And the cursed one with the hellbeast defiles the sanctity of this hallowed ground,” Right Weaver said. “Besides, he’s not even English.”

  Dahvina glanced at me but gave no indication of my presence to the three Weavers sitting in front of her.

  “His name is Peaches, not hellbeast.”

  Monty sighed next to me. The three Weavers turned and glared. I was impressed. Collectively they scored a four on the Eastwood scale. From the intensity, I could tell that they had developed this group glare over many years of practice.

  “Does it matter?” Right Weaver asked, looking from Peaches to me. “A beast is still a beast, even if you give it a name, Mr. Strong.”

  “Subtle and insulting,” I said, getting annoyed at the air of superiority wafting my way from them. “Monty, what’s the English word for assh—?”

  “Thank you,” Dahvina interrupted quickly. “I will take your recommendations under advisement. Please fortify the outer and inner defenses, and make sure we don’t have any unwanted guests.”

  “Too late for that,” Left Weaver muttered, looking at me. “We will do as you ask, Dahvina. Our word is bond.”

  They filed out of the office, giving me a royal stink-eye. I did my best to return the level of stink, until Monty nudged me in the side.

  “Those three are High Weavers,” Monty said. “After the Dahvina, they are the most powerful Weavers alive.”

  “Which means what?” I asked. “The higher they go, the lower the manners?”

  “They’re scared, and fear has a way of bringing out the worst in some,” Dahvina said as the Weaver from the ladder approached and gave her an old book. “Thank you. Please see to the outer perimeter.”

  The Weaver nodded and silently left the room.

  “Tristan, this is the book you need.” She placed it on her desk. “It describes some of the circles you mentioned, in addition to the ley-line placement in London.”

  “I feel we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Monty picked up the book. “Your High Weavers are distraught.”

  “I’ve lived a long time, Tristan,” she said, standing. “This isn’t the first time demons have overrun London, nor will it be the last.”

  “Thomas has something planned.” Monty held up the book. “I’ll make sure this gets back to you once I’m done.”

  “Please do,” she said. “Our librarian is very attached to the books and will make my life miserable if you don’t.”

  “Does that explain how Thomas is getting access to demons?” I pointed at the aged volume. The black cover shimmered in the light. “Because it would be great to have a way to erase the demons.”

  “We’ve been watching this mage for some time now.” She led us to the door. “He was powerful, but never this powerful. Someone or something is giving him assistance.”

  She gestured, and the massive doors opened outward.

  “I’m guessing someone from the Consortium,” I said.

  “It’s possible,” Dahvina said, and placed a hand on
the wall. A trail of runes flashed down the corridor and pulsed every few seconds. “I have to fortify our defenses. Once I noticed the demonic activity, I summoned Alaric. Did he send you?”

  “You called him?” Monty asked, looking at her. “This is making sense now.”

  “Who’s Alaric?” I asked, confused. “And do we have to fight him?”

  “Demons in London are not a novelty,” she answered. “Once I noticed the ley-line inhibition, I called for him, but I haven’t heard back. He is one of the few I would entrust to deal with this issue.”

  “He’s here, but currently indisposed,” Monty answered, narrowing his eyes at the path of runes. “He’s in stasis with the Morrigan. He teleported us here from New York.”

  “Stasis? He must have come up against the inhibitor spell.” She made another gesture, and the runes on the floor became solid. “Did he manage to escape serious harm?”

  “You mean besides being in stasis with the Morrigan tending to him?”

  She smiled. “He was always reckless, and this latest fascination with her is inexplicable,” she said with a shake of her head. “This generation of Weavers has been too isolated. There would have been a time when we would have mobilized for battle. Now, we are forced to defend our compound. You need to leave before they arrive.”

  “Thank you,” Monty said, and gave her a short bow. “Once my uncle is up and about, I will make sure he sees you.”

  “How did you get here?” she asked.

  “SuNaTran provided us with a vehicle.”

  “Good.” She nodded, and whispered some words I couldn’t catch, transforming her clothing into combat armor. “I hope they gave you a fast, rune-covered armored truck.”

  “How many?” Monty asked, his voice tight.

  Dahvina held up a finger and looked off into the distance.

  “A legion. Still some distance away.” She stared at us. “You two know how to make friends.”

  “A legion?” I asked with a short laugh. Neither of them joined me. “A legion of demons, really? Thomas went biblical on us?”

  “He must perceive you as a serious threat,” she said with a grim smile. “I’d be flattered, or scared senseless, if I were you.”

  “Bloody hell,” Monty muttered.

  “I’m going to go with scared shitless, thanks. Monty?” I motioned with my head. “Can we evacuate the premises?”

  “Follow the path, and it will lead you to an exit inside the Tube at the Leicester Square Station” She pointed to the glowing runes on the floor. “From there, locate your vehicle and get out of the city. Find your uncle and get his help.”

  Let’s go, boy. We need to get out of here before serious trouble arrives.

  We ran down the rune-lit corridors and out of the compound.

  TWENTY-TWO

  WE CAME OUT of Leicester Square station, walking fast.

  “The vehicle is a few streets down,” Monty said as we turned left on Charing Cross Road.

  “How many names does your uncle have?” I asked, making sure Peaches stayed next to me. “I’m guessing he’s this Alaric?”

  “Yes, Alaric is Uncle Dex,” Monty answered. “I’m not sure how old he is. He’s been alive a few millennia, and used several names throughout his life.”

  “And she called him because…?”

  “He’s a demonologist, among other things.” Monty stopped at the intersection and motioned for me to do the same. “The inhibitor rune must have disrupted his energy signature. We’re only alive because of his skill as a mage.”

  “What is it?” I asked, looking around the corner. The black SUV was parked where we left it, but I was sensing an energy signature from the area. “Something’s off.”

  I heard Peaches growl next to me.

 

  Those are called demons. Can you tell me from which direction?

 

  No, you don’t know where they’ve been. No biting unless we’re in trouble.

  “Peaches says we have demons incoming,” I said, opening my coat and reaching for my sheath—which was empty. “Shit.”

  “Where’s your blade?” Monty asked when he saw the empty sheath. “Did you forget it at the Wordweavers?”

  “No,” I said. “Can we discuss this in the truck?”

  I took several steps to the SUV, feeling Peaches clamp on to my pants leg and pull me back.

  “What are you—?” was as far as I got, when the truck exploded.

  The force of the blast flung us back onto Charing Cross Road. Monty gestured, and a shield formed around us, deflecting pieces of the Urus. A large figure, covered in flames, appeared behind the demolished Lamborghini.

  “We need to go, now.” Monty began running back to the Wordweaver compound. We arrived at Cranbourn Street when a fireball raced past my face, narrowly missing my head. Monty veered right and down—into the station.

  “Cecil is going to be pissed.” I looked up the stairs and saw misshapen, dog-like, flame-covered creatures following us down. Huge jaws dominated their oversized heads. Drool leaked out of a mouth full of teeth and sizzled as it dripped onto the stairs. “What the hell are those—land sharks?"

  Monty looked up the stairs and sent several orbs behind us. “Trackers, according to the scroll I just read.” The orbs hit the creatures and crystallized them as they descended the stairs. “Lower demons sent to follow us by our energy signatures.”

  Frozen in place, they fell over and shattered into small pieces. A gust of air raced past us as the sound of an approaching train filled the station.

  “We need to get on that train,” I said, as I ran down to the platform with Monty and Peaches behind me.

  We pushed in and met some resistance at first, until Peaches rumbled. Then people spread out more out of fear than courtesy. I looked around the crowded car.

  “Monty, all these people…” I said, shaking my head. “This is bad.”

  He nodded. “Collateral damage if we don’t get clear of them.”

  “Where does this train go?” I asked.

  I looked at the map. We were on the Picadilly line but I had no clue where we were going.

  “We get off at the next stop, Picadilly Circus, and try and get another vehicle,” Monty said without looking at the map. He looked to the rear of the train and began gesturing. “Once we stop, get them off.”

  The train pulled into the station and I heard the rumble behind us. There was a crunch of metal behind us as I drew Grim Whisper.

  “Everybody off!” I yelled, holding up my gun.

  Some of the riders looked at me. I heard a ‘sod off’ in the back. Most of them just stared, not moving.

  We need to scare them off the train, boy. Use your bark, but not the super loud one. We want them to be able to get off.

 

  No, it’ll ruin your appetite, if that’s even possible. No biting of any kind.

  Peaches stepped forward, spread his legs, and barked. The effect was immediate as the glass along both sides of the car cracked. People screamed and ran off the train. I glanced behind me. Monty had cast an orange lattice of energy that spanned the width of the car.

  “Get off.” He stepped off the train and we ran up the stairs. I was right behind him when I heard the crunching, rending sound of metal and concrete explode behind us.

  Late afternoon in Picadilly Circus was a nightmare of people when you were being chased by demons. Smoke billowed out of the station behind us as we looked around. Monty pointed to Regent Street. We ran around the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain as a fireball crashed into it and engulfed it in flames, causing a panic behind us. I glanced back to see more Trackers and what appeared to be a demon horse—complete with rider—exit the station.

  More Trackers crawled out of the station and the rider pointed in our direction. Another fireball sailed past us, crashing into one of those restaurants t
hat catered to those who worshipped at the arches, melting it to the ground.

  “No great loss there,” I muttered, as we started running down Regent Street. “We have incoming.”

  “We’ll cut through St. James’ Park and see if we can slow them down there.”

  “Monty! Demon horse and rider on our six!” I yelled, as another fireball sailed above us. “Horrible aim, though.”

  We passed the Royal Society, crossed the Mall, and ran into the park. We stopped behind a group of trees that faced down Regent Street.

  “That’s a Cavalier,” Monty said, gesturing and stepping back slowly. “Still minor, but relentless. We have to incapacitate his mount.”

  “So basically what you’re saying is that this is a foxhunt and we’re the foxes?”

  Monty paused and nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that analogy, but it fits. Well done.”

  “Well, so happy I can make you happy,” I said. “You know what would make me happy? Not having demons trying to fry me with fireballs.”

  “You did say his aim was off,” Monty answered. “Cavaliers don’t usually miss.”

  “Maybe this one forgot his glasses at home?” I asked. “Are you saying you want me to get fireballed?”

  “Don’t be daft,” he snapped, and gestured rapidly. “It means something is interfering with its perception.”

  A fireball landed near our location behind the trees. I was about to start running again when Monty grabbed my arm and shook his head.

  “What? Let’s go.”

  “Wait. It doesn’t know where we are. That blast was to flush us out.”

  I peeked around the tree and saw the Cavalier pulling the horse left and right. The Trackers milled around the demon-horse, sniffing the air and ground. Their toxic drool fell on the grass and caused small fires, filling the area with smoke.

  “I thought you said Trackers tracked energy signatures?” I motioned with my head without breaking cover. “How did they lose our runic scent?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s move,” he said. “This way.”

  Every few feet we would stop and he would drop an orange rune behind us. We skirted the park and ended up taking the Mall to Trafalgar Square. Night was falling as we approached the lions. Monty stepped up to Nelson’s Column and stood between two of the lions. Some distance away, I heard a woman who’d clearly had too many pints that afternoon.