As large as the Dark Council was, there were plenty of supernaturals and magic-users who preferred not to be associated with them. That’s where The Dive came in. On occasion, Grey would lend out the space to the Dark Council for non-official meets: allowing for a neutral place to hash out differences without blowing everything up. These meets took place between some of the powerhouses of the community—beings who would rather destroy one another, and the city, than have a civil conversation.
Grey facilitated these get-togethers with a minimal loss of life, or at least, he tried to. There were a few incidents where the talks went sideways. Fortunately, Grey was able to handle them, along with the Dark Council’s help.
Making The Dive an unofficial neutral zone also gave Grey some latitude regarding his Night Warden activities. It was true he was officially known as the last Night Warden—at least that’s what Monty told me—but I heard he was training an apprentice. I don’t know how the Dark Council felt about a new generation of Night Wardens, but I don’t think they, or anyone, could stop Grey.
In the end, it was good business. Loaning out The Dive kept the Dark Council out of his hair, while giving them the impression of keeping an eye on Grey and his dealings. I had done some research on The Dive over the years. Grey Stryder, or some proxy of his, had owned the converted carriage house for over a century.
He had converted the top two floors into a residence with sanctuary rooms, while turning the ground floor into a bar with a small kitchen. As far as I knew, The Dive didn’t turn a profit, but from my information, Grey was independently wealthy, owning the building and the property it stood on.
This was a typical story with many mages, at least those who were smarter, and older. They invested their money, or owned property that was worth a fortune compared to the initial sale price decades or centuries ago. I knew Monty had several holdings in the city and abroad, in London.
We never discussed details. It wasn’t the polite thing to do. But, the fact that he immediately replaced most of the expensive medical equipment in Haven, without so much as batting an eye, spoke to some small measure of his wealth.
I stood across the street from The Dive and sensed the energy around the place. It was covered in runes and wards; not just the building, but the entire block around it. The street felt charged with power. I wondered how Grey had managed to ward an entire block with the focus being the converted carriage house.
The building itself was located in what had once been called Alphabet City, on 4th Street between Avenue C and D. The neighborhood had changed recently into a cross between upscale and pretentious, with transplants coming in from other parts of the city and buying property to add a new flavor to Lower Manhattan.
The Dive was exactly that…a dive. It stood out like a sore thumb, defiantly reminding the residents of the origins of the neighborhood when it had been a hub for immigrants. I’m sure there were several community meetings held to get rid of the “eyesore” and replace it with something more upscale and aesthetic.
I’m certain every single one of those meetings failed. No one was going to get Grey or The Dive out of this neighborhood.
As I approached the door and looked down the street, a reflexive shudder raced through my body when I saw Grey’s vehicle—the Beast—parked several feet away. Even from this distance, I could feel the menace coming off of it in subtle waves. It radiated a subtle feeling of, Step a little closer and let me devour you.
If there ever was an evil vehicle, The Beast was it. The car itself was a work of automotive beauty. The 1970 Chevy Camaro was a monster muscle car…this particular one just happened to be more monster than car.
I was about to knock when the door silently opened.
“Get in here, Strong,” a voice called out. “Before I change my mind.”
It was Grey.
I looked around to see if he had cameras on the door, or some sophisticated hi-tech surveillance, but saw nothing. The runes along the street must have been some kind of early-warning sensor system.
“How did he know?” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t see any cameras.”
“It’s possible he has a different set of sensors,” Jessikah answered. “He is a dark mage, after all.”
“Just like a Sith lord,” I said with a nod. “Maybe he sensed a disturbance?”
“It’s very likely he sensed a disturbance,” Jessikah said, giving me a look. “Or a disturbed individual.”
“Maybe it’s these runes?”
I noticed the pulsing violet runes on the threshold. I reached out to touch them when Grey called out again.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Grey called out again. “Come in and leave the runes alone.”
I pulled my hand back and glared at the door.
“He’s good,” Jessikah said with a small smile. “Better leave those runes alone…they look painful.”
I stepped just inside the threshold and let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The wards and runes inside were on overdrive. Jessikah stepped in next to me and silently swept her gaze across the interior.
The furniture was a mixture of mahogany tables and cherry-wood chairs, evenly spaced out around the floor in what would have appeared to be a random setup, except for the flow of energy in and around the interior.
“This is feng shui on steroids,” I muttered under my breath. “Even more than the Randy Rump.”
“It would appear that even the furniture is positioned just so, to facilitate the flow of power in this place. Ingenious.”
“It is,” I said, following her gaze around the interior. She was right—even the furniture enhanced the power of the runes inside. “Right up to the moment the chairs and tables try to kill you.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Jessikah said. “These are inanimate objects infused with power. They are not capable of attacking you.”
The floor appeared to be a deep-red marble, which gave the illusion of standing in a frozen Saharan desert. I let my senses expand slightly, noticing that every surface had been recently runed, creating a magic null space similar to what existed at the Randy Rump…only stronger, much stronger. He really had turned The Dive into a fortress.
“Where’s Tea-and-Crumpets?” Grey asked from behind the bar to my right. The aroma of coffee—not just any coffee—but Death Wish coffee, wafted over to where I stood, beckoning. “Is he on his way?”
The tone behind the question set off my radar. Grey knew something was wrong. He wore a pair of faded work jeans and a black T-shirt. His leather duster hung from a coat rack at arm’s length from where he stood.
“Monty won’t be joining us today,” I said, keeping emotion out of my voice. “He’s away…on mage business.”
“Mage business, right,” Grey answered with a nod, as he poured dark liquid into a large black mug covered with a skull-and-crossbones design. “Did you threaten Frank?”
“I told the lizard we needed to speak,” I said. “Why?”
“He doesn’t like being called a lizard,” Grey said, before lifting the mug to his lips for a deep pull. He paused a moment to appreciate the coffee with a small grunt of approval. “He prefers Frank or dragon.”
“There’s no way I’m calling him a dragon,” I said. “I could squish him with one foot.”
“Unlikely,” Grey said. “He may be small, but that doesn’t mean he’s powerless. More importantly, he’s my friend, and I’d appreciate you showing him some respect.”
“As soon as he stops trying to corrupt my hellhound, I will.”
“Corrupt your hellhound?” Grey asked, glancing at Peaches. “What are you talking about? How does anyone corrupt a hellhound? Feed it lettuce? Give it healthy meat? Not that anyone would be crazy enough to feed a hellhound meat laced with broccoli, or anything ridiculous like that…right?”
Grey looked at me pointedly. Apparently someone had mentioned the “deathane incident” to him.
“Right…that liz—Frank’s been trying to fill Peaches’
head with…ideas.”
I regretted it the moment the words escaped my lips.
“Oh…no,” Grey answered, heavy on the sarcasm. “Not…ideas? Is your hellhound okay? Will he recover? Should I call a vet? Where in hell would I even find one for a hellhound?”
Jessikah coughed to hide a laugh.
“Not funny,” I said seriously. “You know he tried to get Peaches to form a hellhound union? A union to demand larger meat portions.”
“Is that Local 666?” Grey asked, barely able to keep a straight face. “I hear they have chapters in all the lowest places.”
A second later, he burst into laughter.
“I’m glad this amuses you,” I said, keeping my voice serious. “Frank is a bad influence on Peaches. Ideas travel faster than bullets…and in many cases can be deadlier.”
“Understood. Frank is Frank,” Grey said with a tight smile. “He’s not going to change for you, me, or anyone. I don’t control him, no one does. Deal with it. Besides, you should cut him some slack. You owe him.”
“Excuse me? I owe him what?”
“From what I heard,” Grey said, after regaining some of his composure and taking another sip of coffee, “Frank, your hellhound, and a little girl ice mage with her guardian mutt had to rescue a certain detective from captivity.”
“You were rescued by a little girl and a menagerie?” Jessikah asked. “Really?”
“I wasn’t rescued,” I snapped, louder than I wanted to. “They facilitated my exit from some nastiness. That’s all.”
“Rescued,” Grey replied. “Even made up a cute name for their group. The Coo Coo Cachoos, or something like that.”
“The Brew & Chew Crew,” I corrected, knowing Peaches would comment if I didn’t. “That’s their name.”
“There you go,” Grey said, raising his mug with a wicked smile. “The Brew & Chew Crew saved you. That’s just adorable.”
I remained silent. Grey smiled and nodded before taking another sip of coffee.
“Where is he?” I asked. “I’d like to repay some of my debt…with interest.”
“Busy,” Grey answered. “Said he had some business to tend to across town. Left here a little while ago in a shower of sparks. Dragon business.”
“Bet he did.”
“Let it go, Strong,” Grey said, suddenly serious as he glanced outside. “Frank is a pain, but he’s my friend. I’ll speak to him about trying to emancipate your hellhound.”
“You do that,” I said, partially satisfied as I looked around the interior. It was mostly empty. Judging from the sounds, the kitchen crew was busy in the back. “Slow day?”
“Not even noon yet, Strong,” Grey answered, taking another sip from his large mug and looking at Jessikah. “Did you trade in Tea-and-Crumpets for Ms…?”
“Onuris,” Jessikah answered with a slight nod. “Jessikah Onuris of the Black Orchid.”
“Is there a Black Orchid convention in town?”
“Why do you ask?” Jessikah asked, keeping her voice even.
“A few of your sect were here last night looking for…”
“Monty,” I said. “What did you tell them?”
“Coffee?”
“You offered them coffee?”
He narrowed his eyes at me and chuckled.
“You, Strong. Are you really that dense?” Grey asked, pouring me a generous amount of black liquid goodness into a mug matching his. “You look like you could use some. Rough morning?”
“You could say that, thanks,” I said, sitting at the large redwood that doubled as a bar. “What kind of wood is this?”
I knocked on the surface of the bar. A subtle, musical chime filled the space around me. It vaguely resembled the doors at the Randy Rump, but this one thrummed with a deep power—something the doors at the Rump had never done, even with all of the runes etched into them.
“That, my friend, is living Buloke Ironwood.”
“Impossible,” Jessikah said under her breath, as she approached and sat on the stool next to me. “Only the oldest sects have the capability or expertise to fashion living Buloke. The skill to work Buloke Ironwood is beyond all but the most accomplished mage artisans.”
“I have some highly skilled friends in very low places,” Grey answered. “To answer your question, Strong, I told them I didn’t know where Tristan was, but that they were welcome to look around.”
“Did they believe you?” I asked. “You let them look around?”
“I know of the Black Orchid, as every mage does. Of course I let them look around.”
“How long did that last?” I said, feeling the familiar sensation of ants across my skin. “This place feels like Cecil cut loose in here.”
“Something like that,” Grey said. “Told him I needed some runes to persuade those who would prefer to do more damage than drink to vacate the premises.”
I nodded.
“How long before they were looking for the exit?”
“About three minutes before they felt the sudden urge to leave the premises,” Grey said. “Those intentions don’t do well in this place.”
“Three minutes?” Jessikah asked, surprised. “This place is enormous; there’s no way they could have conducted a thorough investigation of the premises in that time.”
I had heard the rumors. Grey had Cecil add some special runes to The Dive, runes that would make individuals with negative intentions feel the need to leave the place. The worse the intentions, the sooner the runes would kick in.
“Deterrence runes,” I said, removing the glowing flask from my jacket as Grey slid the large mug of the darkest coffee I’d ever seen in front of me. “Like my persuader rounds.”
“Only without the mess,” he said, looking at my silver flask and raising an eyebrow. The skulls across its surface glowed with a dull blue light. “You need an extra kick?”
“Trust me, there’s nothing in here that would compare to this,” I said, pausing for a moment to take in the aroma from the mug before pouring in a teaspoon of javambrosia. “This smells…”
“Fresh,” Grey said, looking away from my flask. “I get my shipments direct. Helps with my condition. Tea? Ms. Onuris? You seem partial to a good cuppa.”
“Jessikah, please, and yes, a cup would be excellent,” Jessikah said with a short nod. “Did you say condition? Are you ill?”
Grey narrowed his eyes for a second, and then turned to prepare a cup of tea for Jessikah.
“You could say something like that,” Grey answered after a few seconds of silence. “It’s complicated.”
“Is that why you accepted the sword?” Jessikah asked, as I glared at her. “I apologize if I’m being too forward.”
“Rude is probably a little closer,” I grumbled. “That’s his personal business.”
“Not an issue,” Grey said, still working on the tea with his back to us. “I’m sure the Orchid has some kind of file on me, just like the Dark Council. Mage goes dark, then gets a kickass blade of power…makes plenty of people nervous.”
“The Black Orchid noticed the increase in your power and took the appropriate surveillance measures for a mage of your caliber. The shift was, and is, considerable.”
“I’m almost flattered,” Grey said with a soft chuckle, before becoming serious again. “My condition is…terminal. The sword makes sure it isn’t. I get to hang around long enough for me to deal with the nastiness in the streets and help the people of my city.”
“What does the sword get?” Jessikah asked, her voice gentle, but firm. “What is the cost?”
Grey gave her a hard look, which softened a second later.
“Blood,” Grey said. “She feeds on the evil I fight. That’s about all I’m willing to share on the subject.”
“Understood,” Jessikah said. “I didn’t mean to pry. My apologies.”
“None required,” Grey said, holding a small cup in front of Jessikah. “I trust it will meet your standards.”
“It smells exquisite.”
“I get this flown in for some of my patrons. It’s Taylors of Harrogate, Yorkshire Gold. Direct from 1 Parliament Street, North Yorkshire,” Grey said, with a nod. “I hear it’s some of the best. Can’t drink it myself, but some of my patrons enjoy it.”
Grey placed the delicate cup of tea in front of Jessikah, who let it sit for a few moments before taking a small sip. She closed her eyes with a small hum of approval.
“That…is a proper cup of tea,” she said, inhaling more of the aroma. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Grey said with a nod, before looking down at Peaches. “What do you feed your hound? Small cows? Large moose?”
“Sausage is good, if you have some,” I said. “Do you know how Frank manages to communicate with my hellhound?”
Grey gave me a look and then ducked under the bar to a refrigerator unit. He stood up a few seconds later with an armload of sausages.
“Give me a sec and I’ll have the kitchen warm these up for you,” he said, heading to the rear of The Dive. “Be right back. Then we can discuss how they ‘communicate.’”
ELEVEN
“Deterrence runes?” Jessikah asked under her breath when Grey had stepped into the kitchen, out of earshot. “I’ve never heard of such runes. It sounds made up.”
I let my senses expand again and felt the presence of the failsafes around me.
“Not made up,” I said. “Grey is scary strong, and Cecil is, well—Cecil.”
“I just find it hard to believe that trained Orchid agents would allow themselves to be affected by runic interference,” Jessikah said, apparently immune to the effects of the runes in The Dive. “It boggles the imagination.”
“Welcome to my world. I’m sure there’s plenty you’re going to encounter in this city that will boggle your brain and sound made up,” I said, empathizing. “Better to roll with it before those ‘made up’ things squash you dead. Trust me on this one.”
Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel Page 7