Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “What happened?”

  “Apparently someone decided City Hall Park needed a massive makeover,” Ramirez answered after a few seconds. “There’s a crater where the park once was. Had all the looks of your detective agency’s work.”

  “It wasn’t us,” I said. “Why would we blow it up?”

  “Same question I ask every time I’m standing in rubble, courtesy of the Montague & Strong Detective Agency,” Ramirez said. “Why would they blow this place up?”

  “Not fair,” I countered. “You know it’s usually in self-defense.”

  “Is that what we’re calling wholesale destruction these days? Self-defense?”

  Ramirez had a point, and we were catching some heat for the destruction in the city. It probably had something to do with the targets being destroyed, more than the destruction itself.

  “Still,” I said, “why do you assume it was us?”

  “Are you kidding?” Ramirez answered with a short laugh. “Every day I wake up and I marvel at the fact that you two haven’t reduced my city to a crater.”

  “Hilarious, Angel, really.”

  “I knew it wasn’t you two,” Ramirez added. “This job was actually neat, surgical even. No runic backlash or residue, just plenty of old-fashioned C4 used by someone who knew what they were doing.”

  “What was destroyed?”

  “Mostly the park, but the brass is raising a stink about some landmark sculpture that’s been on the site forever,” Ramirez answered. “Irreplaceable, I’ve been informed, along with priceless. That’s what made me think of you. I know how you like to preserve the city’s historical landmarks with explosive renovations.”

  “You’re in rare form today,” I said, ignoring the last remark. “I need a pick up.”

  “For you?”

  “No, some mage rookie tried to attack me,” I said, trying to keep Jessikah under the radar. The last thing I needed was the NYTF investigating a Black Orchid mage. It would create all kinds of the wrong questions. “He must have had me confused for someone else. I persuaded him to stop his attack.”

  “You used Persuaders?”

  “Would you have preferred I actually used something lethal?” I asked. “Entropy rounds?”

  “Those are banned,” Ramirez said, his voice grim. “You better be fighting for your life if you’re using those.”

  “I know,” I said, trying to calm him down. He got growly when the law was being bent, or in my case, twisted into a pretzel. “Look, this is messy, but at least he’s alive.”

  “Just one?” Ramirez asked with a sigh. “Tell me it’s just one.”

  “Just one. He had a pair of friends, but they were smart and ghosted him when it got serious,” I said, looking down at the still writhing Richard. The effects would last for at least another ten minutes. A lifetime for poor Richard. “Get one of the EMTEs down here to pick him up. Give him a three day vacation with a warning. Should straighten him out.”

  EMTE stood for EMT Elite. The NYTF used these paramedics whenever they encountered some kind of supernatural disaster, or when Monty was allowed to run rampant—which, according to them, was pretty much the same thing.

  “I’ll send Frank around. His bus is in the area,” Ramirez said, and I could almost hear the grin. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy this run.”

  “He’s going to kill me,” I said with a groan. “Can’t you send someone else?”

  “Next time, think twice before you make a mess on my streets. I’ll give the victim three and a warning. Is he a threat?”

  “Maybe in a few decades,” I answered. “But not really. Just a mage with an oversized ego.”

  “Got it, typical mage,” he said with another chuckle, before becoming serious. “If you hear anything about what caused the City Hall Park crater, let me know, Strong.”

  “Will do,” I said, my voice pensive. “Have you tried the Dark Council?”

  “They’re giving me the usual line of not having rogue elements in their ranks that would be causing such…what was it, oh yeah, ‘wanton destruction of property.’ They actually suggested I call you.”

  “I’m sure they did,” I said. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  I ended the call and pocketed my phone.

  “Who was that?” Jessikah asked, as we stepped to the Dark Goat. “What was that about a crater?”

  “Director Ramirez of the NYTF,” I said. “They’re like the Black Orchid without mages. They deal with all of the supernatural activities in the city, from the non-supernatural side. Looks like someone blew up City Hall Park.”

  “And he assumed it was you?” she asked. “Why would he do that?”

  “We’ve been known to be in the vicinity of some major explosions in the past,” I said. “Not that we are always the cause, mind you.”

  “Extenuating circumstances causing staggering destruction?” she asked. “I’m sure it’s just an extreme case of prolonged self-defense.”

  “Anyway, he’s going to hold Richard here for three days and let him off with a warning,” I said, pulling out Grim Whisper. “Unless you prefer I end his existence now?”

  “What? No!”

  I holstered Grim Whisper with a smile.

  “Just checking,” I said with a grin. “You know how us cold-blooded killers can be.”

  She shook her head as I unlocked the Dark Goat.

  “Are we just going to leave him there?”

  “Yes, the EMTEs will be here soon,” I said, hearing a siren in the distance. “You don’t want to be here when they arrive. Too many questions. Too much attention.”

  “Shouldn’t we…I don’t know…move him? Maybe place him in your vehicle until they get here?”

  I stared at her for a few seconds.

  “A few things,” I said, looking at Richard and then at her. “He tried to fry you. That makes him unfriendly.”

  “But, surely…”

  “No, the EMTEs will pick him up and clean him off before dropping him at the NYTF HQ for his short vacation.”

  “He seems to be quite distressed.”

  “Persuaders are one of the gentler options, trust me.”

  “It just seems inhumane to…”

  “There is no way he is getting in the Dark Goat like that.”

  “Very well,” she said with a final nod. “It is your vehicle.”

  She got into the Dark Goat. I opened the suicide door and Peaches bounded in with a small leap, rocking the Dark Goat. I slid in behind the wheel, feeling the familiar ants-on-my-skin sensation and started the engine. I had a few questions, but I wanted to make sure we were some distance from Ezra’s before I asked her.

  “I almost pity him,” she said as she strapped her seat belt. “He was clearly out of his element.”

  I was thinking the same thing about her, but we would discuss that after meeting Grey.

  “Let’s go talk to a dark mage.”

  NINE

  The Dive was located about ten minutes away from Ezra’s by Dark Goat.

  I needed to prep Jessikah before we got there. She had no idea of what dark mages were, or how they should be treated. Grey was a dark mage, but he was no slouch. Even Monty respected his ability and power.

  The fact that he’d recently added a dangerous sword—the counterpart to Ebonsoul—to his arsenal only made him more dangerous. Add all that to the fact that The Dive was Grey’s batcave and an unofficial neutral location, and we were walking into a situation where we needed to tread lightly.

  I couldn’t have her going all official Black Orchid on Grey and trying to arrest him on the grounds of being dark and grouchy. That wouldn’t end well for anyone…especially us.

  I pulled out my phone and pressed the button that connected it to the Dark Goat speaker system. Another button press began the call. After a few rings, the call connected.

  “The Dive…Be discreet or be delicious,” the voice said, reminding me of Dahvina and her T-shirts. “How can I help you?”

 
; “Hello, is Grey there?”

  “Who’s asking?” the voice replied, warily. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”

  I knew it was him.

  The lizard.

  The one trying to corrupt my innocent and guileless hellhound.

  Frank.

  “Oh, I’m not selling anything…lizard.”

  “Li—did you say lizard?” Frank answered, angry now. “Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing? I need a name so I can inform your next of kin.”

  “I’d say dragon, but I don’t recall ever encountering mini-dragons,” I answered with a laugh. “Tell me, did you get a choice when you monumentally screwed up the casting? Did you actually choose extra small, or was the size you ended up proportionate to your level of power as a mage? I’m asking for a friend you might know.”

  “A friend I…might know?” he seethed. “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m going to be there in ten minutes…lizard,” I said. “Then you and I can discuss what you’ve been telling my friend. I’m sure you remember him. His name is Peaches.”

  A low rumble from the backseat filled the Dark Goat.

  “Peaches? I don’t know anyone named…Oh, shit.”

  “Tell Grey I’m on my way…lizard. You better be there when I arrive.”

  The call ended.

 

 

 

  “Who is Frank and why did he sound scared?” Jessikah asked, looking at me. “Do you make it a habit of threatening people?”

  “Only those trying to corrupt my hellhound.”

  “I see,” she said, glancing into the backseat where Sir Peaches Sprawlington, the sprawl master, occupied the entire backseat. “Do you really think your hellhound is capable of being corrupted?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll deal with it,” I said. “I have a question for you.”

  “Ask,” she said. “If I have the answer, I will provide it.”

  “The orb you used on clueless Richard back there,” I started. “Was that the extent of your power?”

  She remained silent for a few moments, and I knew the answer before she replied.

  “Yes,” she said, hesitantly. “With the exception of my farsight ability, which does…unpleasant things to my reality, that was my power.”

  “I see,” I said in my best Monty voice. “We are truly and rightfully bolloxed.”

  “Excuse me?” Jessikah said. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

  “This farsight ability you have,” I said, “does it make you go Super Saiyan or something?”

  “I’m not familiar with this term ‘Saiyan.’ Is it like a mage?”

  “When you use your farsight, does it increase your power?” I clarified. “Does it make you like an Arch Mage?”

  “Arch Mage?” she asked, shaking her head slowly. “Impossible. I would need at least half a millennia of extensive training to even approximate that level of power. Farsight gives me the ability to sidestep time for three seconds. It can still be thwarted.”

  “So we really are bolloxed.”

  “That word means…”

  “That we are screwed,” I said. “In over our heads.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Why do you make this assessment?”

  “Did you know that Monty has faced an Arch Mage?” I asked, quietly. “Along with a few gods, and beings too scary to even describe?”

  “The only official Arch Mage we have on record in this city is…”

  “Julien, I know,” I said, “and his creepy assassin-assistant Claude.”

  “Arch Mage Julien,” Jessikah corrected, “is quite accomplished and powerful. I have to doubt you and Tristan faced him in combat…and survived.”

  “It wasn’t really combat, more like fleeing,” I admitted, “but Monty has faced some serious heavy-hitters and walked away from them. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are outclassed…way outclassed. That was before the schism. Now, you’re not even in the same galaxy.”

  She remained silent for a few more seconds.

  “How will you stop him?” she asked. “You have less ability than I do.”

  “I don’t know,” I said as we approached The Dive. “I have to hope that Monty is still Monty. If anyone is going to get close, I have the best chance of doing it.”

  “Why? You have no special ability,” she said. “In fact, outside of your hellhound and your peculiar gun with runic-suppressing ammunition, you seem quite…ordinary.”

  “I still have a few surprises.”

  “I highly doubt these ‘surprises’ of yours will allow you to confront Mage Montague,” she said. “If he’s as powerful as you say he is, you’re as outclassed as I am.”

  “Normally, I would agree with you,” I said. “If it were just me and you, this would be a suicide mission. It’s a good thing we have help.”

  “Help?” she asked incredulously. “Who? His uncle? The proprietors of Fordey? Your idea of help is misplaced. They are rogue mages who only care for themselves. They are not ‘help’. They are dangerous and to be avoided at all costs.”

  I glared at her before slowing in front of The Dive.

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, as narrow as it may be,” I said, checking my anger. “Just make sure you keep that opinion to yourself. Those people you just named are the closest thing to a family I have…and no one, no one messes with my family.”

  “Understood,” she said, eyeing the matte black 1970 Chevy Camaro parked in front of The Dive as we coasted past. We turned at the intersection and parked across the street. “Is this Grey part of your family as well?”

  “Grey?” I said, surprised by the question. “I’ve never dealt directly with him. I try to keep my mage interactions down to a maximum of one, whenever possible. Monty worked a case with him a while back. If Ezra says I need to see Grey, then I’ll see Grey.”

  “That was a roundabout way of saying no.”

  “It’s not a no and it’s not a yes,” I said. “If he helps me with Monty, then I’ll be indebted to him, and I don’t take that lightly.”

  We came to a stop in front of The Dive.

  “That vehicle back there…it’s…”

  “Cursed,” I said. “That’s the Beast. Stay away from it. The person who runed the Dark Goat runed that thing, and must have been angry on the day he did it. The runes on that thing are lethal. Don’t go near it.”

  “Right, then,” she said, looking out of the passenger window at the entrance to The Dive. “We’re here to get help from a dark mage who drives a cursed vehicle, and carries around a sword capable of death and destruction. What could go wrong?”

  “I’m going to assume that, like most mages,” I said, “he won’t be in a pleasant mood.”

  “That’s just a myth,” she assured me. “Not every mage is continually angry.”

  “A myth that hasn’t been debunked…yet.”

  “Is this where this Frank person lives as well?” she asked, looking up and down the street. “The one you threatened earlier?”

  “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be inside.”

  “This place looks…”

  “Run-down?”

  “I was going to say quaint, but run-down fits,” Jessikah answered. “It’s quite protected. The wards on and around the property are considerable.”

  “The place is a fortress, if Grey wants it to be,” I said, turning off the engine. “Grey moves in some questionable circles.”

  “The runework is impressive. Outside of the Black Orchid, I’ve not seen such a level of detail,” she said. “There are layers upon layers of defenses, most of them lethal.”

  “They should be,” I said, getting out of the Dark Goat. “I
t’s an unofficial neutral location, and Grey, as a dark mage, has more than a handful of enemies.”

  “Are you certain this is the person we need to go see?”

  I nodded.

  “Ezra says see the angry dark mage. I see the angry dark mage.”

  “You don’t sound overly enthused.”

  “Because I’m not,” I said. “I’ll ask him questions, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “I can just tell this is going to go so well,” she answered, giving me a worried look. “Should I wait here? It seems like the safest alternative.”

  “I would hate to deprive you of the singular experience that is The Dive,” I said, shaking my head. “Just remember, this is also neutral ground. Keep your badge and attitude in your pocket. We need help and he can provide it.”

  “I don’t have a badge,” she huffed. “I am aware of the protocols of neutral sites.”

  “Good,” I said, getting out and opening the door for Peaches, who bounded out as the Dark Goat groaned in relief. “Make sure you observe them.”

  We headed to The Dive’s entrance.

  TEN

  The Dive sat in the center of a neighborhood that had radically changed over the years.

  Aside from being an unofficial neutral location, The Dive attracted a distinct clientele, which differed from the Randy Rump. The supernatural community that frequented the Rump was mostly part of the Dark Council, or affiliated with it. They didn’t mind being seen there, and actually enjoyed frequenting the location.

  With the Randy Rump, Jimmy had created a space that felt like the neighborhood bar. It was the kind of place that had regulars, and over time—and in between explosive renovations—had become a place where everyone knew your name. The Randy Rump was a restaurant-bar and butcher shop where you could sit down to a meal without worrying about being attacked for being supernatural. On most days.

  The Dive was…different.

  There were regulars at The Dive, too. These were the kind of regulars who didn’t want to know your name or care. If they did know your name, you were attracting the wrong kind of attention—the kind that paid you a visit in the middle of the night and ended you. The regulars at The Dive lived on the fringes of the supernatural community. They worked in the dark and enjoyed it.