A Montague & Strong Short Story Collection (Montague & Strong Case Files)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “You must be Montague,” I said, watching him. “I’m the detective you’re waiting for.”

  “And your name is?” He looked up from the plans for the first time. His eyes were black with a hint of gold around the circumference of the iris. His facial expression seemed to be set to perpetual scowl.

  “Simon—Simon Strong,” I said as I went to sit behind Ramirez’s desk. “You can call me Simon. Do you mind if I call you Montague?”

  He narrowed his eyes and gave me a slight glare. “My name is Tristan.”

  “Yeah, no way am I calling you that, so Montague it is.” I rearranged a stack of files that looked like it was about to crush me. “You use magic? You don’t look very magical. Where’s the glow? The power?”

  “You’re familiar with magic-users, then?” he said leaning against the desk.

  “A bit.” I dropped the files next to me on the floor with a thud. “I’ve heard about you guys—wizards. There’s one in Chicago, who likes to demolish pretty much everything, and another one in St. Louis with questionable associates. So where’s your staff?”

  “Excuse me?” he answered with a raised eyebrow. “My what?”

  “Don’t you wizards need a staff to channel the midi-chlorians or whatever it is you use to do the voodoo that you do?” I wiggled my fingers at him, channeling my inner Copperfield.

  “I’m not a bloody wizard,” he said, frowning as he looked down at the plans again, ignoring me. “Your knowledge of magic-users is flawed at best.”

  “Oh I know,” I said, snapping my fingers, “you’re one of those ‘I see dead people’ magicians. Necromantical—no that’s not it—necrosorcerers? You know the ones I mean?”

  He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles were white. “I’m a mage,” he said as if that made all the difference in the world. “Not a wizard or necromancer or sorcerer—a mage. Do you understand?”

  “Are you always in such a good mood?” His response was a full glare that was worthy of three Eastwoods on my glareometer. I put my hands up in surrender. “Got it—your mageness.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why did they assign you to this case? You’re not even part of this task force.”

  I shrugged. “Because I’m the best,” I said matter-of-factly. “I get it done.”

  He scoffed. “The best at what? Pissing people off?”

  “It’s a gift,” I said, standing when I heard Ramirez’s voice outside his office. “I’m the one you want next to you when it all goes south. It’s that simple, Monty.”

  “Monty?” he whispered, staring at me. “My name is—”

  “Strong, get out of my chair,” Ramirez bellowed as he made his way across the floor. He entered the office and looked at the two of us. “I see you’ve met—good. Saves me introductions. You leave in twenty.”

  “Sir, I don’t think this is an adequate pairing,” Monty said, looking at me with disapproval. “It’s clear he doesn’t take this case or anything seriously. I’ve been tracking this case around the globe. These people aren’t amateurs.”

  Ramirez sat behind his desk and shoved some files to the side with his foot. “Fortunately for you, Mr. Montague,” he said ,flashing Monty a grin, “I’m not overly concerned about what you do or do not think. You’re here because the brass wants you here. Simon is here because I want him here. It’s the best of both worlds—sort of like England and America united and all that. Make it work. You’ll find that he grows on you after a while—like a fungus.”

  I suppressed a laugh because it looked like Monty was about to go ballistic. I didn’t know what happened when a wiz—I mean, mage lost their temper. It didn’t seem like the right time to find out.

  “This is impossible,” Monty said, clearly exasperated. “He doesn’t even know magic. The entity we’re facing is deadly.”

  Ramirez shot me a look and then focused on Monty. “So is Simon,” he said, placing his hands on the desk, exhaling. “We have work to do. Go recon the building, figure out our next move. Find those missing kids.”

  FOUR

  “DO YOU WANT to drive?” I asked as we approached the NYTF cruiser. It was a refurbished Crown Victoria about the size of a tank and just as tough. Monty gave the car a look, shook his head, and got in the passenger side.

  Monty adjusted his seatbelt. “You’d better drive if you want us to get there in one piece. Is this thing even legal?”

  “The NYTF and ‘legal’ have a loose association,” I said, starting the car and putting it in gear. “I have the address. What are we up against?”

  “Haven’t you been briefed?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What kind of second-rate organization is this?”

  “This isn’t rocket science, Monty,” I said, reaching in a pocket, pulling out the pictures, and handing them over. “Kids are missing, we need to find them. We’re going to that location and somehow I think she is involved.”

  Monty stared at the photos before glancing over at me. “Where did you get these?”

  “Same place I got this,” I said, showing him the pendant with the endless knot. “I know if the NYTF brought you in, this is supernatural. Don’t need much more of a briefing.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “Bloody hell, you’re insane. You’ve no idea what you’re up against or why the children are being taken.”

  “Doesn’t matter, it just needs to stop.” I gave him a quick glance and then pointed at the picture of the wife. “Who’s the woman with the eyes of death?”

  “Do you even know what that pendant does?” he asked, turning the pictures over. “Do you know what that symbol means?”

  “It’s an endless knot,” I said, steering the cruiser onto West Side Highway. “Supposed to offer protection—from her. Do you know who that is?”

  Monty stared at me for a good ten seconds before speaking.

  “This is very likely the most powerful magic-user on the planet,” he said, holding up the picture of Mrs. Killer Eyes. “According to what I’ve been able to uncover, this is the current incarnation of Kali the Destroyer.”

  “You mean a worshipper of Kali, right?” I said with a nervous laugh. “We aren’t actually facing the Kali.”

  Monty gave me a ‘you are so screwed’ look and turned back to examine the pictures. I pulled off the West Side Highway and onto the Holland Tunnel exit. Monty remained silent until I stopped the car on Canal Street. The building we needed to recon sat two blocks away on Laight Street.

  “Who gave you these pictures?” Monty asked quietly. “What name did he give you? Did he happen to say he was her husband?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Bollocks!” He slammed the glove compartment with a fist before getting control of himself. “Listen, Simon, I’m sure you mean well—really. But I’ve been chasing these two down for the better part of a year.”

  “You know who he is?” I asked, suddenly angry. I didn’t like being played and this felt like I was being jerked around.

  Monty nodded. “His name is Shiva—yes, the real Shiva.” He handed back the pictures. “It’s a trap. He’s using you as bait. The last person to hold that pendant was torn to shreds and died horribly. You need to walk away now.”

  “The kids,” I said, putting the pictures and the pendant in a pocket. “Why are they taking the kids?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Monty replied, undoing his seatbelt. “These are incarnations of gods. You’re not going to walk up and end this with bullets. I don’t care how many supernatural things the NYTF has dealt with, this is beyond you.”

  “If they’re that badass, why are you the only one here?” I asked, looking around. “Where is the Dark Council or whatever group you belong to? Why are you here alone?”

  “The Dark Council won’t get involved in this, and my sect—the Golden Circle—doesn’t know I’m pursuing them.” Monty flexed his jaw. “Confronting a god or its incarnation has been forbidden since the war.”

  “So it’s just you
,” I said, undoing my seatbelt and adjusting my holster. “Are you powerful enough to take her on alone?”

  “No,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore what she’s done. Too many children—too many innocents—have died at her hands. It needs to stop.”

  “Do you have a plan?” I said as we got out of the car. “Seems like this is beyond you too.”

  “You may be right,” Monty said, nodding as we approached the building. “It may be beyond me. All the more reason you should leave now—while you still can.”

  “It’s not beyond us,” I said, catching up to him. “Besides we’re just doing recon. You bring the magic—I’ll bring the bullets and badassery.”

  “Recon?” He scoffed and began gesturing with his hands.

  “What’re you doing?” I focused on his hands as they began to glow. “That doesn’t look friendly.”

  “I’m not doing bloody recon,” Monty said, his voice grim. “I’ve studied how your NYTF works. In a few days, they’ll level that building with everyone inside and call it a gas-line explosion or some other made-up shite. I’m saving those children—tonight.”

  “What makes you think the kids are in there?” I looked down the street but I couldn’t see the building clearly from where I stood. “What are they doing with them?”

  He turned to me, and I took a step back. The expression on his face made me reconsider being out here with him at all. He was ready to die.

  “She’s growing too strong for Shiva,” Monty said, looking down the block, narrowing his eyes. “She sacrifices the children and absorbs their life-force as they expire. Their pain and suffering increases her power. Eventually her power will eclipse Shiva.”

  “Are you sure the kids are in the building?” I checked my holster and made sure my gun was secure. “How do you know?”

  He pointed at me. “Right before every ritual, Shiva enlists the aid of an unwitting victim to distract her in an attempt to thwart her,” Monty said with his arms extended to his sides. He turned in place several times and then brought his hands together in the form of prayer. “Did he touch you?”

  “Touch me?” I asked, confused. “What do you mean touch me?”

  “Did his skin touch your—nevermind, I’ll check myself,” Monty said, quickly giving me a once over. He shook his head after a few seconds. “You’d better put on that pendant. He marked you.”

  I pulled out the pendant. “Marked me how?”

  “When he touched you, was there a transference of power?” Monty asked, taking the pendant from my hand and gesturing over it. “Did it feel odd or painful when he touched you?”

  “Just a little.” I remembered the feeling of energy creeping up my arm when we shook. “He gave me this jolt when we shook hands.”

  Monty nodded as he handed me back the pendant and motioned for me to wear it. “You’ve been marked. It’s similar to the military when they ‘paint’ an object and it becomes the target for a missile. All her attacks will home in on you now.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “I’m walking around with a bullseye on my back.”

  “That’s actually an apt description,” Monty whispered as we got closer to the building. “He will use you as a distraction to launch his attack against her. He usually fails.”

  I looked at Monty. “How many times has he tried this tactic?” I whispered back as I saw the patrols around the building. “What the hell are those?”

  “You can see them?” Monty asked quickly as he ducked behind a car. I followed his lead because my brain was having trouble processing what my eyes were telling me. “How can you see them?”

  “How can you not?” I said, my heart deciding escape would be a good idea as it attempted to thump out of my chest.

  Large creatures lumbered around the building with shuffling steps. I sat there in mild shock as I looked at them. They seemed to be a mash-up of every child’s worst nightmare. Huge fangs protruded from their mouths and sharp claw-like fingernails adorned their hands. Their eyes gave off a red glow as they patrolled the perimeter of the building. Every few steps they would stop and sniff the air, then continue on their path. They wore large rusted chains around their necks. From the chains hung a glowing orange orb about the size of a grapefruit.

  “Oh, I can see them,” I whispered, ducking behind the car again. “I’m going to be seeing them for a long time after tonight—in every nightmare from now on. If I ever sleep again.”

  “If you can see them,” Monty said, pensively rubbing his chin, “it’s possible you may survive this night.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence,” I muttered, peeking over the car again. “Can you tell me what they are? I’m pretty sure I know what they do. The fangs and claws kind of give it away.”

  Monty gave me a short nod. “They’re Kali’s first line of defense.” Monty looked over the hood of the car. “Rakshasas—designed to tear through anyone and anything that approaches that building.”

  “Rakshasas?” I shook my head slowly as I watched them patrol. “Those are supposed to be large tigers with human bodies—not whatever those things are.”

  “It seems Kali prefers the historical version of the creature,” Monty answered with a tight smile. “If you get too close they will smell you and then—”

  “I’m dinner,” I finished. “Literally.”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Monty said and began moving his fingers in an intricate pattern. “But maybe we can use your being marked to our advantage.”

  “Anything that doesn’t involve my being eaten works for me,” I said, focusing on the small green orb of energy materializing in his hand. “What does that do?”

  “Let me see your gun,” Monty said with an outstretched hand. “Are you a good shot?”

  “I’m decent.” He stared at me. “Fine, better than decent, but somehow I don’t think bullets are going to do more than tickle those things.”

  “They will.” Monty let the green orb fall on my gun and held it out to me. “Can you hit those orbs hanging around their necks? It’s how she maintains control over them.”

  I hesitated, clearly in over my head. “Maybe we should call the Dark Council, the NYTF, and your sect,” I said, the words tumbling out. “If we explain the situation, I’m sure they will act.”

  “As soon as she realizes they are coming, she will kill the children, ascend in power, and erase the NYTF or any other authorities when they arrive,” Monty replied quietly, looking down at my now glowing gun. “Or we can end this tonight and save those children.”

  “Fuck,” I said, grabbing the gun. “What happens when I shoot the orange balls?”

  “They should turn on each other,” he said, rubbing his chin again. “But I would stay out of arms reach just in case.”

  “What do you mean should turn on each other?” I asked feeling the power travel from the gun into my arm. “Haven’t you used that green thing on them before?”

  “It’ll work,” he said with a quick nod. “Just make sure you don’t miss.”

  FIVE

  I STEPPED AROUND the car with my gun drawn, aimed at the lone Rakshasa on this side of the building. It sniffed the air as I approached and stopped moving. I didn’t know if the micro-tremors in my arm were from the energy Monty placed in the gun or the gripping fear of facing a walking nightmare willing to rip me to shreds and eat me. I was leaning toward the latter.

  “That’s not going to help my aim,” I whispered to myself as I tried to steady my arm. I held a deep breath as the Rakshasa turned and stared at me. The roar it unleashed traveled across the ground and parked itself in my gut. The orange ball around its neck swung from side to side as the beast ran at me. I forced myself to stand still and take another deep breath.

  The little voice in my head screamed at me to run away. For a quick second I considered it, but then I thought about the children, so I fired—and missed the ball, hitting it square in the chest instead.

  The Rakshasa stopped, looked down
at the wound, and then back at me as if to say ‘are you kidding?’ before getting ready to lunge again. That moment of hesitation was all I needed. I fired again and hit the orange ball, destroying it. The beast screamed and held its head as it convulsed on the ground.

  It stood a few seconds later and rushed at me. “So much for ‘should turn on each other’” I said as I slid over the hood of a car and narrowly evaded being cratered along with the hood. “Monty?”

  I looked around with the cold realization of the truly screwed that I was alone. The Rakshasa shoved the destroyed car to one side as I weighed my options. Run, and I could die tired; if I stood my ground, I could mount a valiant and short-lived attack right before those claws disemboweled me. I was never good at running. I took aim, ready to empty the magazine into tall, gruesome, and hungry.

  “Duck,” whispered a voice from behind me. I dropped to the ground as a large sphere of fire raced at the Rakshasa above me. For a second nothing happened as the flaming orb crashed into the creature. It looked up as Monty clapped his hands behind me. Still nothing. It took a few steps and smiled. I was beginning to doubt the power of mages when the Rakshasa suddenly exploded and drenched me in a gorenami of viscera and blood. The lower half of the creature fell, lifeless. Monty handed me a towel. I noticed he was untouched by any of the mess I was currently wearing.

  “How did you manage to do that?” I asked, wiping my face. “Where did you go?”

  “Once you destroyed the orb, I used a transdermal expanding thermal spell,” Monty said, stepping around the remains of the Rakshasa. “I was testing a theory about your being marked. It seems they will target you first—which can work to our advantage.”

  I shook off more of the Rakshasa. “Actually, I was just referring to your not being covered in this mess, but the rest of that sounds good too,” I said, removing the last of the gunk from my face and hair. My clothes were ruined, but they were bargain-basement finds anyway. Monty looked like he’d just stepped out of a high-end men’s catalogue.