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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “The lady won’t be staying,” Gren said abruptly. “She has business elsewhere. Why don’t you go annoy another table?”

  “That is a pity.” Roth stepped closer to the table. “The Masa experience is quite extraordinary. I do wish you would reconsider, miss.”

  I sat back and crossed my legs, placing Ebonsoul within easy reach.

  “I told you—fuck off,” Gren said, staring at Roth and clenching a fist.

  “This establishment is a designated Dark Council neutral zone, and violence of any sort is prohib—” Roth started.

  Gren wrapped one enormous hand around Roth’s neck, plucking him off the ground and cutting off his sentence.

  “There’s no violence happening here,” Gren whispered as he stood, still holding Roth by the neck. “We’re having a friendly conversation and you are interrupting.”

  Roth may have looked weak and defenseless, but I knew better. The Dark Council ensured that those who oversaw neutral zones could enforce the rules—with deadly force if necessary. Gren had just plucked himself a handful of angry vampire. The two men with Gren pulled out automatic weapons.

  It was a smart move inside a neutral zone. Not using magic meant the defenses wouldn’t activate, and my guess was that Gren the Monstrous wasn’t overly concerned about damage from bullets.

  “I would strongly suggest against this course of action,” Roth said as he dangled a few feet off the floor. I saw him make a subtle gesture with his hand, and the restaurant began to empty. “If you leave the premises now, this incident will be forgotten. If not—”

  I drew Ebonsoul and grabbed the edge of the table as I saw Gren shift his weight. Katja saw me move and slid closer to me. I flipped the table as Gren threw Roth across the restaurant and the two men opened fire.

  FOUR

  ROTH DESTROYED SEVERAL of the tables on his way across the restaurant. The solid table offering us cover shattered as Gren drove a fist through it. Katja rolled to the side as I leaped forward. I slashed Gren several times with Ebonsoul. It was about as effective as slashing granite with a butter knife.

  I jumped back and looked at him. “What are you?”

  He roared in response. Then he grew. Muscles tore through clothing as he added several more feet to his stature.

  Gren took a step forward, sending a tremor through the restaurant when his two assistants were introduced to the wall behind us with force. Roth was walking back and he didn’t look pleased.

  Gren whirled around as Roth closed the distance in an instant and drove an uppercut into Gren’s chin, rocking his head back. Roth shook out his hand and looked on in wonder as the large man laughed and took a step back.

  Moving faster than anything that size had the right to move, Gren drove a fist into Roth’s midsection, launching him through the window and into the McLaren parked outside, destroying it. Roth shook it off and stalked back inside. The McLaren, or what was left of it, looked less like the height of automotive engineering, and more like a Picasso sculpture.

  Gren laughed again and I turned in time to see him pull out a small black box from the pocket of one the unconscious assistants. He rubbed a hand over it and I saw a red glow flare from under the Lamborghini. I grabbed Katja and pulled her with me. We dived behind the large bar as the Lamborghini detonated. Smoking fragments of the Aventador buried themselves in the walls of Masa like shrapnel.

  Roth, now joined by five more members of the Dark Council, kept his distance and drew a .500 S&W Magnum. I looked around and saw the other Council members had the same kind of weapon. Calling it a gun would be like saying Little Boy and Fat Man were just bombs. Roth gave a signal, I ducked, and they opened fire. Gren roared again and then I heard the huge thump. I peeked over the bar and saw the unconscious Gren doing his best impression of a pincushion. He was full of very large, angry-looking darts.

  Roth stepped over to the bar. His suit was torn in several places. Scratches and bruises already covered one side of his face. He reached behind the bar and pulled out a phone.

  “This is neutral zone zero-zero-two,” he said, looking around. “Threat contained. Send extraction and reconstruction teams. I want to open by tomorrow night.”

  He hung up, removed his jacket, and proceeded to give the other Council members instructions. Gren lay immobile in the middle of the floor.

  “Katja,” I said when she stepped out from behind the bar, “those harmless old men you were talking about—who exactly are they?”

  “One of Father’s clients—they belong to the Penumbra Consortium.” She straightened out her dress and adjusted her thigh sheath, which held a large dagger. She smiled when she caught me looking. “Can’t be too careful.”

  I groaned and turned to face the approaching Roth.

  “It appears this gentleman”—he glanced at Gren’s prone body—“is in the employ of the Consortium and will be returned to them,” Roth said, looking at me. “It would seem you have angered some powerful individuals, Mr. Strong.”

  “Me?” I said, shocked at the accusation. “They weren’t here for me.”

  The Penumbra Consortium was the older, darker, angrier, European version of the Dark Council—heavy hitters with long memories and longer reach. Katja, or more likely her father, Dmitry, had pissed off the wrong people. A neighborhood I was incredibly familiar with.

  Roth nodded as if to say ‘sure they weren’t’ and stepped over to Katja. “Does the lady need anything?” Roth said, handing Katja a napkin and a glass of water. “Please accept my apologies on behalf of Masa. Your next meal here is complimentary—sans reservation.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a sigh. I’d had to call in a few favors just to get the reservation last week. The waitlist was insane. “I really appreciate it.”

  “I was referring to the lady.” Roth turned to look at me. “As for you, Mr. Strong, I was informed to give you this message by Mr. Nakatomi: “Tell Strong that if I see him when I get there, I’ll be the last thing he sees.”

  “He sounds upset,” I said, grabbing my jacket and sheathing Ebonsoul. “Does he know this isn’t my fault?”

  “Quite,” Roth said. “He also made mention of telling his sister about your presence here—without her.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “That would be bad.”

  “Ms. Nakatomi’s presence here would complicate matters exponentially,” Roth said with a nod. “The best thing would be to leave the premises under your own volition—while you still can.”

  “We need to go,” I said, grabbing Katja’s hand. “I know a place we can go and be left alone. Coming?”

  Katja nodded and we left Masa. We walked down 8th Avenue and hailed a taxi. I normally avoided New York City taxicabs because I’ve grown fond of living, but with both vehicles totaled, we had no choice.

  We jumped into the back of a taxi and I pulled out my phone. I dialed Monty and got his voicemail. He’d really taken the night off.

  “23rd and Broadway—the Flatiron building,” I said as the driver pulled off and headed downtown. “This place is secure.”

  Katja looked behind us nervously as we pulled away.

  FIVE

  FLAT EARTH WAS located on the roof of the Flatiron building. It wasn’t a Dark Council neutral zone, but it was an exclusive club. Piero Roselli, who owned several businesses in the city, owned it. This wasn’t as upscale as Roselli’s, his premier restaurant, but it was private.

  “I need to know why the Consortium wants you,” I said, pulling out my phone and pressing the speed dial for the only one I knew who would have the answer.

  After a few seconds of the signal bouncing all over the world, I heard his voice.

  “Simon, what are you doing on top of the Flatiron building?”

  “Staying alive, Hack.” I scanned the horizon as I turned. “What can you tell me about Novakorp and the Consortium?”

  I heard the punching of keys. “Nothing good,” he said hurriedly after a moment. “Consortium is cleaning house—oh, shit.”
>
  “What?”

  “The woman standing next to you right now wouldn’t happen to be Katja Novakova…would it?”

  I refrained from looking around. “What the hell, Hack?”

  “We live in a digital world, Simon—cameras everywhere,” he said. “Are you on a date? You look sharp. Does your vampire know?”

  “Cut the shit—what about her?”

  “She’s toxic.” More tapping of the keyboard. “Consortium wants her ghosted—something about Novakorp withholding information and the loss of funds by one Dmitry Novakova. Bottom line, Consortium wants her erased and is using—whoa.”

  “What now?”

  “They’ve unleashed a—troll?” he said in disbelief. “Do those things even exist? This one goes by…”

  “Gren,” I finished. “Extra-large, hard to kill, bad manners? Yes, they exist and this one is particularly nasty. Can you locate Monty for me?”

  “You have incoming and it looks like what you just described,” he said. “If I was you—and I’m glad I’m not right now—I would cut that date short. I’ll contact Montague.”

  “Where is he?” I looked over the edge of the roof. “I need an exit that doesn’t introduce us to the pavement at terminal velocity.”

  “He, it, is killing the feeds as he goes through the lower level—that thing is a killing machine,” Hack said with admiration. “Wow, Simon when you piss someone off, you go big, in this case…huge.”

  “Hack, focus.” I heard the impending destruction as Gren made his way to us. “I need the fastest exit off the roof that doesn’t require us to jump over the edge.”

  “North side. There’s a staircase to the lower level. Go. Now. Hack out.”

  I grabbed Katja and ran for the north side as the staircase leading to the scenic rooftop restaurant exploded behind us.

  “Time to go.”

  SIX

  WE GOT TO the top of the metal staircase that was leading down as Gren roared. I made sure Katja went ahead of me as I turned for a quick look. Gren was closing the distance—fast. I jumped over the edge and landed one level below the roof.

  Gren had destroyed the lower level of the club. Several bodies lay on the floor. Their uniforms told me it was club security. They must have unsuccessfully tried to stop Gren.

  “What is that thing?” Katja asked as we ran down the stairs. “Why is he chasing you?”

  “Me?” I nearly yelled as we descended the stairs. “Your father pissed off the wrong people. These people don’t send you angry emails, Kat—they send angry trolls.”

  She had taken off the Choos and was racing down the stairs. The Chanel gown had gone through some alterations as well and was more mini-skirt than dress at this point.

  “I’ve done nothing.” She looked up when she heard the roar several stories above us. I saw the genuine fear in her eyes and I knew she was telling the truth. “But I think Father has.”

  We made it to the ground floor. Apparently, trolls don’t navigate narrow staircases well. We headed for the back exit, when I heard the crashing of concrete and metal outside. A few seconds later, the large form of Gren landed in front of the building.

  “That’s one way to deal with a narrow staircase.” I grabbed Katja and ran for the back as my phone rang.

  “Your Hack friend interrupted my dinner—something about a troll?” It was Monty. “Why does Masa look like a warzone?”

  “I’m leaving Flat Earth being chased by a troll,” I said as the front entrance exploded into the lobby. “An angry, persistent troll” —I looked at Katja—“who somehow manages to know where my date is without GPS.”

  “Get outside to Madison Square Park. I’ll be waiting,” Monty said. “Try to leave your troll friend behind.”

  “Hilarious.” I kicked open the back door and came out on Fifth Avenue. The park was to my right and a block away. In the distance, I saw a flash of blue light and Monty waved at me. We took off at a dead run.

  Behind us, the wall exploded with a roar as masonry slammed into cars in the street.

  “Strong!” Gren yelled, shaking some of the building’s windows. All the running clearly didn’t amuse him. “I’m going to crush you and suck on your bones and then I’m going to crush Miss Novakova.”

  “That—that’s just gross,” I said as we crossed the street. “And how am I suddenly a target?”

  I stopped in the middle of 23rd Street and made sure Katja crossed to the other side as Monty led her to the teleportation circle before joining me. He tossed me a magazine and I slammed it into Grim Whisper, putting one in the chamber. The black wisps of energy let me know they were entropy rounds.

  “So how is your date progressing?” Monty said as he formed a large orb of air. “Looks like an eventful evening so far.”

  “Piero is going to kill me for destroying Flat Earth,” I said as we closed the distance on the approaching Gren. “Troll was sent by the Consortium to tie off a loose end.”

  “Meaning your date?” Monty asked, and I nodded.

  “Seems like Novakorp is being liquidated.” I glanced back at the nervous Katja. “Dmitry must have skimmed off the wrong account. He always was a slimy bastard.”

  “An actual troll?” Monty asked as he released the orb. “I always thought they were smaller and inhabited lairs under bridges?”

  “Maybe this one is in-between bridges.” I emptied the magazine in Gren’s chest as he screamed. The orb hit him a second later and flung him back into the lobby of the Flatiron building. I looked back at Monty, impressed.

  “What did you hit him with?” I asked, surprised. “Your orbs don’t usually do that kind of damage.”

  Gren roared.

  “Clearly it wasn’t enough.” Monty turned and started running back to the teleportation circle. “We need to regroup.”

  I saw Katja standing in the center of the circle. She gave me a worried wave as we crossed 23rd Street again and then she disappeared.

  SEVEN

  “WHERE DID YOU send her?” I looked around the entrance to the park, but Katja was gone. “Why did you teleport her?”

  “I didn’t teleport her anywhere.” Monty looked down at the circle. “I don’t see any remains of your date and the circle hasn’t been activated.”

  “Is that supposed to be encouraging?” I said, examining the area around the circle. “If you didn’t teleport her, where did she go?”

  “There are very few creatures that could snatch an adult female without leaving bloody remains.” He looked up at me. “This has all the markings of your—”

  “Michiko,” I whispered, and Monty nodded. “Shit. Why would she take Katja?”

  Monty gave me a ‘you can’t be that dense’ look.

  “Katja’s father is going to be quite displeased that you lost his daughter.” Monty looked across the street and narrowed his eyes. “Although we may have more pressing concerns at the moment.”

  “I didn’t lose her,” I snapped back and turned at the roar coming from the Flatiron building. “It’s not like she’s a cellphone I misplaced. Someone or something took her.”

  “A perfectly rational explanation,” Monty said as he gestured, causing the runes in the circle to brighten. “I’m sure Mr. Novakova—does he still go by ‘The Butcher of Georgia? —Or has he mellowed with age? In any case I’m certain he will be pleased to know you didn’t lose her, she was just taken while out with you. That makes all the difference.”

  “I’m all cheered up now.” I looked at the glowing runes in the teleportation circle. “Dmitry will be pissed if that troll flattens Katja.”

  “I told you this date was ill-advised,” Monty said. “We need to go.”

  The façade of the Flatiron that faced north, the point of the triangle-shaped building, erupted in a shower of stone and debris. Gren lumbered out of the building, pushing large pieces of the destroyed wall out of his way.

  “He looks unhappy,” I said as Monty traced more runes around us. The circle flared and Gren beg
an running at us. “I emptied an entire magazine of entropy rounds into Mr. Angry Troll. I think it’s time we invested in an RPG or do you have a troll- be-gone nuke spell?”

  “I’m going to crush the bitch—then you die, little man,” Gren rasped as he closed the distance. I saw him stop in the middle of the street, look around, and sniff the air before turning south at a dead run, ignoring us.

  “Little man?” I said, looking around. “Did he mean me?”

  “It’s clear he meant you.” Monty sniffed. “I’ve never been referred to as ‘little’ anything.”

  “Amazing how your motivational talks always end up doing the opposite.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you are an enormous source of daily aggravation.”

  “Not helping.” I scowled in response. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Monty nodded, placing a hand on the circle, and then the world went white. When it came back into focus, we were standing in our office. Michiko, wearing a black trench coat, stood in the center of our reception area with a shocked Katja sitting on the couch.

  My stomach clenched, forcing me to rush to the bathroom. I want to say it was the effect of the teleportation—not the expression of restrained lethality on Chi’s face—that caused my gastric distress.

  EIGHT

  “WHO IS THIS woman to you?” Michiko looked briefly at Katja before fixing her gaze on me again as I returned to the reception area. “How do you know her?”

  It wasn’t the words, but rather the tone that made me pause. This was one of those crossroads questions and my life could be filled with untold pain depending on how I answered. I opted for living dangerously because honesty is always better than deception—clearly a suicidal thought, considering the situation.

  “She’s my date,” I said. “Her name is Katja Novakova and she’s in danger.”

  “Not as much as you are right now,” Monty muttered and went to the kitchen. “Would anyone like some tea and biscuits? It will make a sparse arval, but it will suffice as a funeral feast.” Katja raised a shaky hand and moved to the kitchen.