Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Of course, Strong, sir,” Ayrton said with a smile in return. “Please finish strapping in.”

  I pulled the five-point harness over my body and locked it in place. He started the engine with a roar, and basked in the purr and rumble of runically enhanced Italian engineering. I took a moment to sit in the rumble with him. I was liking him more by the second.

  “Now that is an engine,” I said. “Never get tired of that sound.”

  “Agreed, sir,” Ayrton said with a nod, pulling his cap down a little lower over his head. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready? For what?”

  “There seem to be several vehicles strategically placed at our rear,” Ayrton answered, without looking back. “I’m going to assume you want me to lose them?”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw three large, black sedans parked about a block way. They were driving what appeared to be ultra-enhanced 1990 Chevy Impala SS Interceptors. The black tint on the windows only added to the air of menace.

  “Black Orchid?” I asked Jessikah. “Is that what they drive?”

  Jessikah nodded.

  “Those are Interceptors—special Black Orchid vehicles,” she said. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to lose them. They are fast and dangerous. This is a pretty vehicle, but no one escapes the Black Orchid Interceptors.”

  I glanced over at Ayrton, who was wearing a smile. It was a smile I recognized, because I wore it every time I drove the Dark Goat.

  “I think you’d better strap in,” I said to Jessikah. “Ayrton here may be one of the first drivers to escape the Black Orchid.”

  “I highly doubt…”

  “With all due respect, ma’am,” Ayrton answered with a slight smile. “This is a SuNaTran vehicle, and I’m the best driver SuNaTran has. We’ll lose them. Please strap in.”

  Jessikah strapped in and Ayrton crushed the gas.

  SEVENTEEN

  Italian engineering, unlike American muscle, believes an automobile should get from point A to point B in the shortest time mechanically possible, all while looking good doing it. American muscle is fast and powerful. The Dark Goat was a monster on the road, but this LUMPS was about as close to sitting in a rocket car as I wanted to get.

  The Black Orchid Interceptors never stood a chance.

  Ayrton shot down 1st Avenue and flipped a series of switches, which caused the LUMPS to drop down low on its chassis, lowering its center of gravity.

  “Hydraulics?” I barely managed over the roar of the engine. “This thing has hydraulics?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ayrton said. “If we don’t lower the COG, I can’t do things like this.”

  He pulled the steering wheel hard to one side while simultaneously using the emergency brake. The LUMPS pulled a tight one-eighty turn and Ayrton nosed into the entrance to the FDR Drive. He released the brake and stepped on the gas in one practiced motion as we put even more distance between us and the Black Orchid.

  Jessikah looked behind us in shock.

  The Interceptors appeared to be standing still as we accelerated. I gripped the door handle tight enough to turn my knuckles white. Ayrton glanced at me and laughed.

  “Eyes on the road,” I said, a little louder than I intended. “I don’t want to end up a mangled, flaming wreck because you’re distracted.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ayrton answered, weaving through afternoon traffic. “Don’t worry, I never get distracted.”

  I looked behind us, expecting to see the team of Interceptors, but the Black Orchid was gone.

  “How fast is this thing?”

  “Fast enough,” Ayrton said. “Uncle Cecil made some ‘modifications’ to the engine for the LUMPS edition.”

  “Modifications? What? Like swapping it out for an F-35 engine?”

  “I wish,” Ayrton said, accelerating even more. “A Pratt & Whitney would really give her some kick.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or kidding. All I knew is that he could drive.

  “Don’t go giving Cecil any ideas, please,” I said, barely holding on to my breakfast. “She can really fly.”

  Ayrton nodded, taking the 23rd Street exit at the last possible second, nearly smashing us into the concrete berm. He sped down 23rd and made a hard left on Park Avenue South, following it until it led to Broadway.

  “I’m going to take a bit of a roundabout route, if you don’t mind, sir,” Ayrton answered with a tight smile. “I want to make sure we aren’t followed.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything on four wheels that can follow us in this thing.”

  “That’s the plan, sir. Please brace yourself.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but he managed to squeeze more power from the engine, pushing us faster. I kept stepping on the imaginary brake pedal on my side every time I saw him get too close to another car, only to slip to the side, avoiding it altogether.

  Even taxis made room for the LUMPS barreling down the city streets.

  “How are you doing that?” I asked, amazed. “Taxis don’t usually move out of the way like that for anyone.”

  “Avoidance runes,” Ayrton answered, as traffic parted for us. “Sends out an omnidirectional pulse saying to get out of the way. It makes life easier, that’s for sure.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “I might have to have Cecil put some of those on the Dark Goat.”

  “You have those on steroids,” Ayrton said. “Everything and everyone wants to avoid that car. Only the Beast is worse.”

  He was right. The Dark Goat sent out some not-so-subtle stay the hell away from me vibes. I figured it was part of the rune package, but I didn’t realize they were specifically designed to keep people away.

  “That would explain some of the reactions I get,” I said, thinking about it. “Still, I wouldn’t trade her in for anything…not even a LUMPS.”

  “The Dark Goat is a sweet ride,” Ayrton said. “Shame I can’t drive her…I like breathing.”

  “That is one downside,” I said. “At least you get to drive this monster.”

  “That I do,” he said with another grin. “Cecil wanted me to tell you that your vehicle will be waiting for you at the Club within the hour. It needs to be transported.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a nod. “Maybe one day he’ll lend me a LUMPS?”

  Ayrton laughed.

  “He said you’d say that,” Ayrton answered. “He said, when you bring him the steering wheel, and only the steering wheel of the destroyed Dark Goat, he’ll consider it. Otherwise don’t even dream about it.”

  “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. The Dark Goat is invincible, I think.”

  “Cecil says that about the Beast, too,” Ayrton said, squeezing between two cars, barely grazing them. “Says he’s starting a Lamborghini abstract art museum with your wrecks…an expensive one.”

  “Sounds like Cecil.”

  We had to stop a few blocks away from City Hall because the area was cordoned off due to NYTF activity.

  “This is as far as I can go,” Ayrton said, parking near the cordon. “NYTF has the area around City Hall closed off. All the streets heading south are blocked. Apparently, there was an explosion.”

  “I heard something about that.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it?” Ayrton asked. “Cecil says if you were in the neighborhood. You were probably involved.”

  “I was not involved, or even near the area, thank you very much.”

  “I’ll let him know,” Ayrton said, smiling and unlocking the doors. “You’d better get in the Club. If anyone is following you, your signature will give you away soon enough.”

  “Even in here?” I asked, looking around the LUMPS. “You can sense it?”

  Ayrton narrowed his eyes and stared at me.

  “Whatever you have going on, it’s powerful,” Ayrton said after a few seconds. “I can’t see much in here because of the runes, but out there? You’ll be shining like a small star.”

  “A small star with a target on i
ts back,” I said, worried. “I’m working on it. The Hellfire Club should shield me enough to deal with it.”

  Ayrton nodded.

  “I hope so, sir,” Ayrton said, serious. “Last time I saw that kind of energy, the client exploded in one of our cars.”

  “That’s encouraging,” I said, getting out of the LUMPS. “Thanks again. I’d say drive safely, but that’s probably not one of your skills.”

  Ayrton laughed again, and waited for Jessikah and Peaches to exit the SUV.

  “I’m always safe,” Ayrton said, giving the engine some gas and increasing the roar. “It’s just not safe for those who try to follow.”

  He locked the doors and pulled away slowly, before gunning the engine and disappearing around the corner in a blaze of speed.

  “I can’t believe he evaded the Interceptors,” Jessikah said, still in awe. “No one has ever outrun the Black Orchid.”

  “I’d say they’ve never come across that particular driver in that particular vehicle,” I said, moving down the street. “Let’s not waste the time he bought us. Hellfire is a few blocks from here.”

  “Isn’t the Hellfire Club part of the Dark Council?” Jessikah asked as we moved quickly down the street. “The mage division?”

  I nodded.

  “Something like that,” I said. “The person who runs the Hellfire, Erik, heads the mage division of the Dark Council, but the Hellfire Club is a separate entity from the Dark Council.”

  “And this Erik can help you?”

  “I think so,” I said. “The real question is…will he?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? Jessikah asked. “You’re a friend in need. It’s the most natural thing.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say we’re friends,” I said with a grimace. “More like acquaintances, very loose acquaintances. He’s closer to Monty than me.”

  “Tristan is a mage after all,” Jessikah added. “Mages don’t like to mix with non-mages—it leads to complications. You’re not a mage, but you’re not entirely powerless either.”

  “I can hold my own, most of the time.”

  “What did the driver mean when he said he couldn’t drive your car because he likes breathing?” Jessikah asked. “Is your car dangerous too?”

  She was sharp. I hadn’t expected her to catch that. If I lied, I’d only have to explain it later. Better to come clean now…well mostly clean.

  “Cecil runed the Dark Goat so that only I could drive it,” I said. “It’s keyed to my signature. Anyone else trying to drive it gets a nasty reminder why that’s a bad idea.”

  It was mostly the truth. I didn’t want to have to explain how the nasty reminder was potential death, and how I managed to avoid it. I had a feeling she’d have a hard time grasping it all, coming from a non-mage.

  “You’re the only one who can drive it?”

  “Yes, it’s safer that way.”

  “Does Tristan drive?”

  “I wouldn’t call what he does driving exactly,” I said. “I think he prefers those backward cars with the steering wheel on the right.”

  “You mean proper automobiles?”

  “I mean backward automobiles,” I said. “You’re almost as bad as Monty. Anyway, on this side of the pond, we drive with steering wheels on the left.”

  “One more thing you’ve taken and perverted,” she grumbled. “It’s astounding.”

  “One more thing? What did we take and pervert?”

  “We don’t have that kind of time, I think,” she said. “Let’s just start and end with language. You say you speak English, but what you really speak is some kind of strange dialect that vaguely resembles English.”

  I didn’t have a comeback for that…she was right.

  “I’ll give you that one. As I’ve told Monty many times, I don’t speak English, I speak American and proud of it.”

  “Which is why no one in the civilized world understands you…not without a translator. It’s simply incredible.”

  We moved fast down the street, and I saw the kiosk that signaled the entrance to the Hellfire Club. No one really stood in our way as we moved. I didn’t have personal avoidance runes, but what I did have, was a Peaches. People parted before us when they saw him coming. I would’ve, too, if I’d run into a large hellhound on the street.

  “Erik should be able to help me deal with my signature issue,” I said, giving the NYTF cordon a wide berth. The last thing I wanted was to be seen anywhere near the site of the recent destruction. I made a mental note to ask Chi why she blew up the park. “He’ll either help me or blast me…depends on how he’s feeling today. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  EIGHTEEN

  We were up the block from the entrance to the Hellfire, when I pulled out my phone and dialed.

  “Who are you calling now?” Jessikah asked, looking around furtively. “You said we needed to get off the streets.”

  “I can’t just drop in on Erik,” I said, waiting for the call to connect. “He doesn’t like unannounced visitors.”

  “Is that the entrance over there?” Jessikah pointed to the Harlequin standing guard at the entrance. “Is she the door person?”

  “Yes and no,” I said, watching Jessikah approach the Harlequin. “What are you doing?”

  Jessikah stood before the kiosk that led to the entrance of the Hellfire Club.

  She gestured and formed an intricate rune that hung in the air.

  In front of the kiosk stood a woman dressed in a skintight black-and-white checkered costume. Her face was hidden behind a black mask. The mask was a combination of tragedy and comedy.

  This was one of the Harlequin—protectors of the Hellfire.

  When she saw the runic symbol Jessikah had created, she bowed with a flourish and twirled the pair of rune-covered tonfas she held.

  “The Black Orchid is always welcome,” the Harlequin said. “Please step inside the circle.”

  She stood to one side of the large, rune-inscribed circle that rested at the top of the stairs. In order to get into the Hellfire, you needed to step in that circle—no exceptions. We stepped in. I took a deep breath, preparing for digestive torture.

  “I need to see him,” I said, calming myself and giving her a slight bow. “Is he in?”

  The Harlequin nodded.

  “He’s expecting you.”

  The Harlequin returned the bow and slammed both tonfas into the ground. The circle we stood in flared to life. A second later, we stood at the foot of a flight of stairs that led to a large wooden door. This time there was no nausea, just a white-hot pain trying to split my skull open.

  I fell to my knees, grabbing my head, and vaguely registered arms supporting me.

  “Bring him inside,” I heard Erik order. “Now, before it’s too late.”

  I felt myself being carried as the world became one large blur. I looked to one side and saw a tall figure…Erik.

  “Oh, hey, Erik,” I said, through the mind-numbing pain. “Wash…wash…wash going on?”

  “Get him to the null room, now. The secure one, downstairs.”

  More movement and then a cool darkness. I closed my eyes and for a few seconds my brain didn’t feel like it was trying to escape through my skull.

  “This is nice,” I said, mostly to myself. “Can I just lay here for a few decades?”

  “Tell me you have a totem, Strong,” Erik said, the strain clear in his voice. “You’re too far along for me to arrest this.”

  “Don’t arrest me,” I said, getting my bearings. “Jacket pocket. Keepsaker. There’s a TEST inside. Ow, my head. Did you change the teleportation sequence?”

  “Your signature is reacting to the security measures of the Hellfire Club,” Erik answered in his usual clipped manner. “Why didn’t you call me first?”

  I glanced at Jessikah with an I told you so look.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jessikah said. “He looks bad.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a groan. “Kick a man when he’s down.”

&nbs
p; “She’s right,” Erik said. “You’re crashing.” I could feel him going through my jacket pockets. “Are you sure you have…Never mind, I found it.”

  “What…is the totem not there?” I asked, taking in the dimly lit room. I saw whips, cuffs and various implements of restraint and pain. “I’m not into you that way, Erik. I thought you said the null room…not the pain room?”

  “He’s delirious,” Jessikah said. “Help him.”

  “Bloody hell, Strong,” Erik said, as the worry in his voice kicked up a few levels into this is really bad territory. “Where did you get this?”

  “Get what?” I asked, confused. The pain in my head had returned with friends, and they were all swinging sledgehammers inside my skull. I placed a palm against my temple in an effort to alleviate the pain. “What are you talking about?”

  Erik held the open keepsaker in his hand. A soft golden glow escaped from the small box.

  “This totem,” Erik said. “Who gave it to you?”

  “What’s wrong? Is it broken?”

  “Broken?” Erik said with a shake of his head. “No, but if this is your totem, we may have to strap you down.”

  He removed a golden, rune-covered ring from the box.

  NINETEEN

  “Where did you get this?” Erik asked, holding up the totem. “I swear, if you answer Sauron, Gandalf, or anything to that effect, you will regret it. I mean it.”

  From the tone in his voice, he meant it.

  When I saw Erik hold up the one ring, my brain raced through so many response opportunities in that one moment. They were all lost…because the moment I saw the ring, an ice pick of pain drove itself deeper into my skull, robbing me of speech.

  Erik gestured and I suddenly felt cooler. I felt my arms and legs being strapped down. I realized I was lying on a padded St. Andrews cross. This one was nearly horizontal, as opposed to the usual vertical models I was used to seeing in the Hellfire. On the fringes of my awareness, I heard Peaches whine nearby.

  No, I was not the kinky sort, unless you counted the fact that I was involved with an angry, ancient vampire as some sort of kink…then yes, I was extremely kinky. The reason I headed to the Hellfire, aside from it being close to Ezra’s, was Rey’s warning: “Make sure you’re safe before you put it on. It can take you out of play for a bit.”