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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  We want to keep Peaches happy, don’t we?

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  HOMECOMING

  A MONTAGUE AND Strong Book 5

  Home is that sigh for a color of sky and a will to return.― Robert A. Heinlein

  ONE

  Igniscoruscanti, I whispered, forming an orb of violet energy. It was about the size of a grapefruit and hovered in my palm. I felt the energy race up my arm and suffuse my body with warmth. I held it in front of me and Peaches shifted mid-sprawl to look up at me.

 

  “This is an incantation orb,” I answered, keeping my focus on the sphere of magical energy in my palm.

  Peaches turned away, disinterested and chuffed. I focused on the orb, trying to channel more energy into it. I saw it expand and then it rapidly collapsed to the size of a grape.

  “Shit.”

  It floated out of my palm and onto the floor. Peaches turned again, lifted one massive paw, crushed it and snapped it up in one gulp.

 

  I felt a surge of energy as a rift opened behind us. I looked back as Monty stepped through.

  “That’s a new look for you,” I said, noticing the missing jacket and rips along the sleeves of his shirt. His pants didn’t look much better, being torn in several places as well. “What is this called—mangled mage?”

  “This used to be a Zegna Bespoke,” Monty said, pointing to his clothes with an irritated look. “I need a cuppa.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Tea.” He held up a hand, walked into the kitchen, and put on a kettle. “Redrum was being modified and given to the homeless who were forced to take it against their will.”

  “Shit, that sounds bad,” I said. “Do we need to mobilize?”

  “No need,” he answered. “It’s mostly contained. I think Stryder will pursue this to its resolution.”

  “How was the Redrum modified?”

  “Someone managed to introduce an ultraviolet resistance into the composition of the blood, altering it to allow rummers to traverse during the day.”

  “UV-resistant rummers?”

  “Precisely,” he said, taking a sip of his Earl Grey. “It gets worse.”

  “What could possibly be worse than rummers out during the day?”

  “Hades gave Kokutan no ken to Grey Stryder, a Night Warden.”

  “What? What the hell is a Grey Stryder, some kind of sneaker?” I asked. “So let’s ask Mr. Grey Sneaker for the sword before the Dark Council decides to shred each other.”

  “Stryder has bonded to the sword by now, if he isn’t dead.”

  “Why does that sound much worse than sparkly rummers?” I asked. “Is this Stryder going to be a problem?”

  “He’s one of the last, if not the last, Night Warden,” Monty replied. “He’s difficult, but governed by a sense of justice and a moral code.”

  “Aren’t the Night Wardens mages?” I asked. “How did he manage the bond without being erased?”

  Monty put the cup down and rubbed his chin in thought.

  “An entropic dissolution,” he answered as if I knew what he meant. “Made him the perfect vessel. Who knew?”

  “Did you ask his godness, Hades, why he gave away the sword that can keep the Dark Council from tearing itself apart?”

  Monty shook his head. “Hades is playing a long game here, but I don’t know what it is and I can’t see why he would make this move. Code or no code, Stryder is a serious threat.”

  “Do we postpone the homecoming?”

  Monty looked up at me. “No, I need to get back to Sanctuary before Oliver sends more Ghosts to convince me that death is a good idea.”

  “And this Oliver is a fan because…?

  “I don’t know.” He looked down at his ruined clothes. “I need to change. Have you heard from my uncle?”

  “Not since London,” I said. “Are you opening a rift to the Sanctuary or do we need to do the digestive destruction of a teleportation circle?”

  “Neither. The Sanctuary has defensive measures in place to prevent direct teleportation,” Monty said. “There is a hundred-square-mile magical dead zone around it.”

  “What are we going to do?” I asked. “Walk up to the front door and knock? Hello? We’re here to storm the castle!”

  “There’s an airport ten miles from the Sanctuary portal.” Monty headed to the back rooms. “We’re flying there.”

  “Flying? As in a plane?”

  “Have you achieved the power of autonomous flight?”

  “Not lately, even though it felt like that in London.”

  “Then we’re flying—in a plane.”

  A crashing sound came from Dex’s room, followed by a bright green flash that spilled out from beneath the door. Peaches immediately stood and padded over, waiting. Dex stepped out and stumbled a few steps into the office.

  “Ach, that Morrigan is one fiery woman!” he shouted. “Barely escaped with my loins intact.”

  He gave me a wide grin and slapped me on the back.

  “Glad to hear you and the Morrigan are doing so well, I think.”

  “Good to see you, boy. Where’s my ever-pleasant nephew?”

  Dex gestured and materialized two large sausages for Peaches, who proceeded to inhale them happily.

 

  “At least say thank you,” I muttered under my breath and shook my head. “You massive black hole.”

  Peaches stepped close to Dex and nudged him with his head, slamming him into the wall. Dex bounced off the wall, rubbing his abdomen.

  “Ach, that’s a good hellhound,” he said with a chuckle, patting Peaches’ head. “Now, where’s Tristan?”

  “Getting dressed.” I pointed to the backroom. “He had a run-in with some rummers.”

  “Nasty business, that,” Dex said and pushed my head down as a huge raven soared into the room. “Careful! You daft bird. Apologies.”

  Herk, Dex’s raven companion, perched on the top of one of the chairs in the reception area. It fixed me with its glowing green eyes for a few seconds before closing them and dozing off. Monty returned in another suit and picked up his cup.

  Dex grew serious. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

  “And wait for another Ghost tribus to pay me a visit?” Monty asked. “No, Oliver wants to kill me. He’s going to have to do it himself.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dex answered. “At least let’s get help.”

  “Who do you propose?” Monty asked, wary. “None of your ‘acquaintances’ from the old country, thank you.”

  “LD Tush?” Dex asked, wincing.

  “Are you mad?” Monty asked, shaking his head. “LD is the worst of the lot!”

  “He’s also the most dangerous and knows how to get in and out without getting us killed.” Dex held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll convince him to leave TK at the shop.”

  “Only if we want the Sanctuary standing when we’re through,” Monty shot back. “She’s twice as dangerous as he is.”

  “It’s decided, then!” Dex said, rubbing his hands. “I’ll pack some things and we’ll port over to the Tush’s.”

  Dex ran back into his room, leaving me completely confused.

  “Who or what is an LD or TK?”

  “The Tush’s are, like my uncle, rogue mages that currently run an artifact business,” Monty said with a shake of his head. “They are the only direct competition to the Moving Market.”

  “I did
n’t know the Moving Market had competition.”

  “Fordey Boutique is a very special kind of ‘store,’ the Market would never move against them,” Monty said. “They tried—once.”

  “What do they sell?” I asked. “Are they as large as the market?”

  “No, they would be considered a boutique shop selling a very specific commodity,” Monty said. “If the Moving Market is Selfridges, those two are Halimeh in Knightsbridge.”

  “And what do they sell?” I asked, concerned. “This sounds like a bad move.”

  “Death, destruction, devastation, and death,” Monty said with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

  “You said death twice.”

  Monty took a long sip of his tea and stared at me.

  “I know.”

  Thank You!

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m finally beginning to understand that each book, each creative expression usually has a large group of people behind it. This story is no different. So let me take a moment to acknowledge my (very large) group:

  To Dolly: my wife and biggest fan. You make all of this possible and keep me grounded, especially when I get into my writing to the exclusion of everything else. Thank you, I love you.

  To my Tribe: You are the reason I have stories to tell. You cannot possibly fathom how much and how deep I love you all.

  To Lee: Because you were the first audience I ever had. I love you sis.

  To the Logsdon family: JL your support always demands I bring my A-game and produce the best story I can. I always hear: “Don’t rush!” in your voice.

  L.L. (the Uber Jeditor) your notes and comments turned this story from good to great. I accept the challenge!

  Your patience knows no bounds. Thank you both.

  Arigatogozaimasu

  The Montague & Strong Case Files Group AKA- The MoB(The Mages of BadAssery)

  When I wrote T&B there were fifty-five members in The MoB. As of this writing there are 430 members in the MoB. I am honored to be able to call you my MoB Family. Thank you for being part of this group and M&S. You each make it possible.

  THANK YOU.

  WTA-The Incorrigibles

  JL,BenZ, EricQK, S.S., and the Mac

  They sound like a bunch of badass misfits because they are. My exposure to the slightly deranged and extremely deviant brain trust that you are made this book possible. I humbly thank you and…it’s all your fault.

  The English Advisory

  Aaron, Penny, Carrie

  For all things English..thank you.

  DEATH WISH COFFEE

  Kane & Sierra- Thank you!

  Is there any other coffee on the face of the earth that can compare? I think not.

  To Deranged Doctor Design

  Kim. Darja, Milo

  You define professionalism and creativity. Thank you for the great service and amazing covers.

  YOU GUYS RULE!

  To you the reader:

  Thank you for jumping down the rabbit hole with me. I truly hope you enjoy this story. You are the reason I wrote it.

  ART SHREDDERS

  No book is the work of just one person. I am fortunate enough to have an excellent team of readers and shredders who give of their time and keen eyes to provide notes, insight, and corrections. They help make this book go from good to great. Each and every one of you helped make this book fantastic.

  THANK YOU

  Amanda H. Amy R. Andrew G. Andrew W. Audra V. M. Barbara H. Beau W. Bennah P.

  Beth M. Betty Myeburger S. Beverly C. Brandi Moore L. Brandy D. Brenda Nix L. Caroline L. Carrie Anne O. Cassandra H. Charlotte C. Chris B. Chris C II. Claudia L-S. Corrine L. Daniel P. Darren M. Davina N. Dawn G. Dawn McQ. M. Denise K. Donald T. Greg L C. Heather H. Heather D. Helen V. Jen C. Jennifer W. Jim S. Joscelyn S. Julie Rogers H. Karen H. Kevin M. Kimbra S. Klaire T. Larry Diaz T. Laura Cadger R. Laura Maria R. Lesley S. Linda W. Lindsey T. Liz C. Marie McC. Mary Anne P. MaryAnn S. Matthew STW. Melody DeL. Michelle S. Mike H. Natalie F. Noah S. Oddegeir O L. RC B. Rene C. Robert W. Samantha L. Sara Mason B. Scott O. Shannon O’B. Shannon Owens B. Stacey S. Stephanie C. Steve Woofie W. Sue W. Susan B. Susan Y. Tami C. Tammy Ashwin K. Tammy T. Terri A. Timothy L. Tommy O. Tracy B. Trish V. B. Violet F. Wendy S.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Orlando Sanchez has been writing ever since his teens when he was immersed in creating scenarios for playing Dungeon and Dragons with his friends every weekend. An avid reader, his influences are too numerous to list here. Some of the most prominent are: J.R.R. Tolkien, Jim Butcher, Kat Richardson, Terry Pratchett, Terry Brooks, Christopher Moore, Piers Anthony, Lee Child, George Lucas, Andrew Vachss, and Barry Eisler to name a few in no particular order.

  The worlds of his books are urban settings with a twist of the paranormal lurking just behind the scenes and generous doses of magic, martial arts, mayhem, and mischief.

  Aside from writing, he holds a 2nd and 3rd Dan in two distinct styles of Karate. If not training, he is studying some aspect of the martial arts or martial arts philosophy.

  He currently resides in Queens, NY with his wife and children and can often be found in the local Starbucks where most of his writing is done.

  Please visit his site at OrlandoASanchez.com for more information about his books and upcoming releases.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Orlando A. Sanchez

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Published by Bitten Peaches Publishing NY NY

  Cover Design by Gene Mollica Studios, LLC

  www.genemollica.com