Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Doubt it,” I said. “Haven’t you heard? He’s all Darthy now.”

  “Cute, but incorrect. He is in a schism, not dark, which means he still has attachments…vulnerabilities…weaknesses. Like you and the Director at Haven.”

  “You must have the wrong Montague. Monty doesn’t have vulnerabilities.”

  “After we kill you and his love, we will destroy his uncle and obliterate the Golden Circle, before ending his life.”

  “Seems like you have a full schedule,” I said. “Where is Evers?”

  “I’m afraid she’s busy at the moment,” Talin replied. “You should make this easy on yourself. I don’t want to kill you. I’m inviting you to death.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, how could I refuse?”

  “Precisely. Resistance is futile.”

  “He killed...he killed Henry,” Jessikah muttered, still in shock. “Who is that?”

  “Someone who is going to kill us all, if we let him,” I said, turning to Grey. “What is the other way out?”

  “Behind the bar. Pull up the trapdoor and follow the tunnel all the way out.”

  “What about you?” Jessikah said. “Are you going to the sanctuary room?”

  “Don’t need to,” Grey said. “I can lock down the entire place. The door is a crumple zone. I designed it as a point of failure.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?” Jessikah asked. “They’ll walk right in.”

  “I know,” Grey said, pressing a palm on the floor, igniting all of the runes around us with red energy. “You better head out before he gets impatient. I doubt he’s going to wait all day.”

  “I owe you,” I said, moving to the bar with Jessikah and Ink in tow. I found the trap door and opened it, letting a groggy Peaches down first, before the rest followed. “Kick his ass, but if it gets dicey, get the hell out of here.”

  “He may be strong, but he’s in my house,” Grey said with a growl. “No one attacks me in my home…and survives.”

  I paused at the top of the stairs.

  “It gets bad, you bug out. I’ll make sure the damage is repaired.”

  “Damn straight you will. I’m going to expect a new, runed door, Strong,” Grey said, holding up his sword. “Go find Tea-and-Crumpets and make sure he doesn’t step over. Go—now.”

  I ran down the stairs.

  A few seconds later, the sounds of destruction followed.

  FOURTEEN

  “Where does this lead?” Jessikah asked as we ran down the tunnel. “Will he make it?”

  “Don’t know,” I said, and I didn’t. I knew Grey was tough and powerful, but whoever redecorated the entrance to The Dive was at least on his level if not stronger. “We need to put distance between us and The Dive.”

  “You’re not going to help him?”

  I stopped running and stared at her.

  “What did you say?” I asked. “You want me to go back and help him?”

  “Yes, it’s the right thing to do,” she said with a nod. “Whatever destroyed that door is clearly powerful, possibly more powerful than the Night Warden. He needs help.”

  I shook my head. Apparently, she had just missed the horror show of watching one of her Black Orchid sect mates going through a lethal doorway. Serious trauma had a way of doing that. The brain can only take so much before it starts deleting the bad parts.

  We needed to get this straight now, or I was going to have to cut her loose, which would be a death sentence for her. She was strong, but not nearly strong enough to deal with Talin or Evers.

  Neither was I.

  “The right thing to do?” I asked, hearing the destruction behind us. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re just going to leave him alone?” she asked, glancing back down the tunnel. “He sounds like he needs help.”

  “I strongly advise against returning to that establishment,” Ink said. “The threat level is considerably higher than expected. We should—”

  “Yes, I’m just going to leave him alone,” I said, measuring my words. “Grey can probably stand against Talin. You and me? Not a chance.”

  “If we stayed, all of us could stop this Talin,” she said. “Together, we are strong enough.”

  “Did you hit your head on the way down the stairs?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t think running is the best strategy here…it’s cowardice.”

  “Cowardice?” I said, taking a deep breath and counting backward from a hundred by sevens. I let out the breath and managed to keep myself under control. “So what you’re saying is that you’re a battle-tested mage…right?”

  “Well, no…what I meant—”

  “What you meant is that you”—I pointed at her chest—“a veteran of dozens of these attacks, thinks it’s cowardice to run away and stay alive?”

  “I wouldn’t say dozens.”

  “Hundreds?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Now I’m impressed. No wonder they unleashed you on Monty. You must be one fierce mage destroyer. With that much firepower, I’m surprised the entire sect isn’t out here looking for you.”

  “It’s not hundreds either.”

  “How many mage battles have you been in?” I asked, letting the anger loose just enough to get the point across. “I mean real fights, where your life was on the line?”

  “I daresay more than you,” Jessikah answered, pushing her chin forward. “I was born and raised as a mage. I mean no offense, but you were not.”

  “Funny how the words that usually follow that statement of not being offensive usually are,” I said, keeping my anger in check. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Two battles,” she said, staring me down hard. “The first was a fight for my life, and the second was the one when…”

  “When you screwed up and almost got everyone killed?”

  “Yes, and that wasn’t my fault. There were circumstances beyond my control.”

  “Of course there were,” I said. “There usually are when mages are involved.”

  “It may not be much, but I have actual mage training,” she said. “I am equipped to deal with these circumstances. It’s not something I expect you to understand.”

  “You remind me of someone I know,” I said, keeping my voice even. “He didn’t know how deep this world was until he was into it up to his neck.”

  “My lack of experience doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t a mage,” she said. “I know you have some tenuous connection to Tristan, but you should really leave this to the mages.”

  “Monty is my friend, and more importantly, he’s my family,” I said, extending a hand, palm up, gathering energy. “I may not be a mage like you are, but I’ve learned in my short experience not to judge people by outward appearances.”

  “Miss, please step back,” Ink said. “I’m registering a large accumulation of power.”

  “Of course you are,” Jessikah said, exasperated. “There’s a dark mage risking his life fighting some creature behind us and we’re here jabbering.”

  “Not behind us,” Ink said, pointing at me. “Him.”

  I had formed a smallish, violet sphere of power in my palm.

  It was the orb that formed when I used my ignisvitae command, except this time I had only thought the command. The sphere whirled in my hand, radiating intense energy and nearly blinding me with its intensity. A few more seconds, and I wouldn’t be able to hold it. I ran back to the stairs and poked my head just above the bar.

  Grey was surrounded by dark tendrils.

  Never a good sign. The light around him seemed dimmer, as if it were struggling to get away from being absorbed by the sword in his hands. Talin—I assumed it was Talin—was in trouble, and his expression showed it.

  He was looking for a way out.

  He was dressed in the usual black on black mageiform, but was looking a little worse for wear. There were ragged holes in his suit, one of the sleeves was torn, and he was we
aring a few painful bruises across his face.

  The sphere in my hand jumped, and I knew I had seconds before it released the energy it contained. I focused on Talin and let it go. I felt the aftereffects of the energy in my palm, as it left my hand and slammed into the unsuspecting Talin.

  He turned in my direction at the last second, a look of surprise on his face as the orb punched into his chest, blasting him through the nearby wall, destroying it. Rubble from the damage fell into the Talin-shaped hole, covering his body.

  Grey laughed at the scene, except I knew it wasn’t Grey. His laugh sounded like a blending of several laughs. Some were high pitched, others were low, but all of them creeped me the hell out.

  It looked like Grey, but it was someone…something else.

  Something incredibly powerful and lethal.

  “Cursed one,” Grey said in his blended voice, turning his head from the newly redecorated wall and looking at me. His eyes fluctuated from deep red to solid black. Waves of power washed off him. “Have you come to play?”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “Not even a little bit,” I said slowly, backing up. “Is that you, Grey?”

  “My vessel is present.” Grey narrowed his eyes at me. “You hold a part of me within? Fascinating.”

  Then Scary Grey smiled.

  Oh, shit.

  The rubble started to shift, and I saw dark energy form around the debris.

  “I’m just going to….you know”—I thumbed over my shoulder and headed back to the stairs—“leave this way.”

  “Leave me, cursed one,” Creepy Grey answered, as more tendrils shot out from the sword and into the debris. I heard Talin scream. “We will meet again…soon.”

  “Not too soon, I hope,” I said under my breath, as I rushed down the stairs, pulling the trap door closed behind me and nearly crashing into Jessikah. “That’s going to give me nightmares for a few years.”

  I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “How did you…?” she asked. “What…what are you?”

  “Right now? I’m in a rush to get away from this place. You can stay and ‘help’ all you want, but I can guarantee you that Grey, or whatever that is up there, doesn’t need our help.”

  “Did he release her?” Jessikah asked as she ran behind me. “Did he release the sword?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, picking up the pace. “I didn’t see her. All I saw was Scary Grey with black tendrils all around him, and enough power pouring out of him to melt my brain.”

  “That was Izanami,” Jessikah said. “I’ve only read the reports, but I didn’t think it was true. She’s a goddess contained within the sword. The sword is sentient and dangerous.”

  “I agree on both parts,” I said, still moving fast. “I’m sure Talin agrees, too. He was getting his ass kicked. He probably still is, or he’s dead by now. It didn’t look like Scary Grey was in a hurry to finish him off.”

  “If Talin doesn’t escape, she will feed on him.”

  “That sounds like a horrible way to go,” I said. “Better Talin than us.”

  Jessikah glanced back when we reached another set of stairs at the end of the tunnel.

  “They will blame the Night Warden for Henry’s death.”

  “I wish them luck trying to make that stick,” I said moving to the stairs. “Grey isn’t in the mood right now to take anything but lives.”

  I climbed the stairs two at time. Another door sealed the top of the stairs, and I really hoped it didn’t require some special rune sequence to open. That would defeat the purpose of this being an emergency exit.

  I pushed on the door and it barely budged. I pushed again, shoving my shoulder into the door, and it flew open.

  A pair of hands grabbed me, the world flashed white, and everything disappeared.

  FIFTEEN

  “What the hell?” I said as I looked around. “Where am I?”

  I was standing in the middle of a mid-sized, green lawn. Surrounding the perimeter of the lawn were large stone globes covered with symbols. Each one pulsed with a subtle white energy. The symbols on the surface moved and rotated slowly around each of the spheres.

  “What did you do?” a vaguely familiar voice asked. “Really?”

  “You said you needed to speak to him,” another voice replied. “Here he is.”

  “I didn’t say right this moment,” the first voice answered with a sigh. “You plucked him out of his stream?”

  I didn’t see anyone, but I was hearing voices, which meant I could be going through a few scenarios.

  I might still be in the tunnel, and had begun spontaneously hallucinating—a strong possibility after meeting Scary Grey.

  Another option was that I somehow made it out of the tunnel, but had been immediately blindsided by a taxicab—not entirely beyond the realm of possibility in my city. If that was the case, I was currently in a bed at Haven and this was all a fever dream. A really vivid fever dream.

  Option three was that my brain had finally had enough, had packed its bags and left the building, leaving me to ponder my madness in the middle of a green lawn with glowing globes around me. However, I was really lucid for someone who had just disconnected his brain from reality.

  It’s true, I had no context—it’s not like I lost my mind on a regular basis—so I had nothing to compare it against, but this didn’t feel like madness. Not any more than my usual days, that is.

  “What did you expect me to do?” the second voice said. “Did you see what he did?”

  “Of course I saw,” the first voice said with a chuckle. “The Night Warden is going to be so pissed at him.”

  “I’m glad you find this entertaining, sir,” the second voice answered. “His progression is in flux.”

  “It’s his signature. He hasn’t used the totem. This is troublesome.”

  “Hello?” I said, taking a chance I hadn’t completely lost my mind. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  Two figures materialized in front of me.

  I recognized one of them immediately.

  It was Sid Rat. The Lead Designer, Sid Rat.

  “Hello, Simon,” Sid said with a smile. “Been some time since we spoke. How are you?”

  “Confused?”

  “That’s to be expected,” Sid said with a nod. “This can be disconcerting. I apologize.”

  “What is going on?”

  “It’s a little hard to explain.” Sid looked at the young man next to him. “This place is sort of a parenthesis, an interstice of sorts, in your timestream’s current events.”

  “Are you going to Zillerfry me?”

  Sid laughed, and then looked at his watch and frowned. He wore a Limited Edition Steffon Carlson Patek Philippe time piece that glimmered with white light when he moved his wrist.

  “Rey, we don’t have much time.”

  “Understood,” the other man said. “The time juncture?”

  Sid nodded and then looked back at me as if remembering I was standing there.

  “The explanation of this place is beyond even Professor Ziller,” Sid said, picking up where he left off. “In simple terms, this place is similar to what happens to you when you press your mark, sort of like a pocket dimension of time. Without the personification of causality paying you a visit.”

  He gave me a short nod with a subtle smile.

  “So, where am I right now? Or is it when?”

  “Astute,” Sid answered with a nod of approval. “When is more appropriate.”

  “So when am I?”

  “Hmm,” Sid said, tapping his chin. “That’s a hard question.”

  “You are going to Zillerfry me, aren’t you?”

  “Do you mean when are you now in terms of your timestream, or the parallel streams that have been designed to intersect with yours?”

  “What?”

  “There is also the factoring of which ‘you’ we are discussing,” Sid continued his brain-melting assault. “Are you positing the theory
of—”

  “Sir?” the young man next to him said. “I think you lost him.”

  I nodded silently.

  “Sorry,” Sid said, holding up a hand. “Sometimes I get carried away. I forget—the adherence to the concept of linear time is ingrained in most. Thank you, Rey.”

  Rey was a tall, young man with a deep intelligence in his eyes. He looked at me with a small degree of pity. He was dressed similar to Sid, wearing a blue blazer over a white shirt and blue jeans. There was a small, silver emblem on the blazer: three interlocked circles—a triquetra.

  “Did you want to accelerate the process?” Rey asked. “The box?”

  “Oh, yes!” Sid said, turning to face me. “Why didn’t you use the box?”

  “What box?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “That box,” Sid said, pointing at my jacket pocket. “The one I gave you. I did give it to you, didn’t I?”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keepsaker Sid had given me.

  “This?” I asked. “You were kind of vague when you gave it to me. I don’t even know how to open it.”

  “I apologize,” Sid said. “Sometimes I don’t have the luxury of exhaustive explanations. If you’ll excuse me, I’m dealing with a delicate situation…Rey?”

  Sid moved off to a corner of the lawn, mumbling something to himself. I caught something about bifurcating timestreams at positional junctions, and then he lost me.

  “Got it,” Rey said, glancing at Sid as he approached me. “You’ll have to excuse him; he can come across as distracted at times.”

  “You think?” I asked. “Is he okay? He seemed much more put together the last time I saw him. Granted, it was only for a few minutes—I think—but he wasn’t talking to himself.”

  “He does that sometimes,” Rey answered with a nod, glancing in Sid’s direction. “How did you know he was talking to himself?”

  “Excuse me, what?”

  “Oh, you meant ‘talking to himself’ as if he were alone, right?”

  “Is there another method of talking to yourself?”