The Golem: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 10)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

 

 

 

  I was about to inform Monty of our hellhound travel arrangements, when I heard the screech of tires behind us. I turned to see a 1966 orange VW Type-2 bus slide into the large ice sheet surrounding The Moscow, then slam into the Dark Goat with a crash. The grating sound of metal on metal filled the street as the bus slid off the Dark Goat.

  The driver tried unsuccessfully to correct the slide. He overcompensated, turning the wheel in the opposite direction, causing the bus to fishtail and hit the Dark Goat again, before gaining some measure of control. A few seconds later, he skidded to a stop on the ice.

  I drew Grim Whisper.

  “What are you doing?” Monty asked.

  “Shooting the driver who just slammed into the Dark Goat. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “Put that away,” Monty hissed. “We both know the car suffered no damage.”

  “Won’t be able to say the same thing for the driver. Besides, I’m carrying persuaders. It will only be excruciating, not lethal.”

  Two men stepped out of the VW bus and approached The Moscow.

  “We have more pressing concerns to attend to,” Monty said. “Shooting bystanders will only complicate matters further.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing. No one slams into the Dark Goat. Where the hell did he learn how to drive?”

  “Probably not New York,” Monty said, turning back to the building. “We have a frozen building to deal with. Let it go.”

  “Oi,” the taller of the two men said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb when they were closer. “Is that your vehicle back there?”

  “You mean the vehicle you slammed into with your pumpkinmobile—twice?”

  “Yes. Where did you learn to park? Your beast of a vehicle is blocking the road. We’re holding you liable for any damage to our bus.”

  “You’re holding us liable?” I asked as I turned my head slowly to Monty, giving him the can I shoot them now? look. Monty shook his head. “Liable for what? You hit my car.”

  “This is official business,” Tall and Bald said. I recognized the accent as from Monty’s part of the world. “You are actively hindering an investigation.”

  I unleashed a glare that easily hit a four on the Eastwood glare-o-meter.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, completely confused. “Who are you?”

  “Robert Bangers,” Tall and Bald said, and pointed to the shorter man next to him, “and my associate, Steven Mash. Bangers and Mash—Paranormal Investigators of the Arcane.””

  “Who did you say you were again?” I asked as Monty took a breath, probably counting to one hundred to keep from unleashing an orb of destruction at the pair. “I didn’t get your names?”

  “We have this situation under control,” Tall and Bald said while he pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking at Monty and me. “I suggest you two,”—he glanced down at Peaches—“umm…three…get somewhere safe. This can get dangerous.”

  They answered my initial question more directly by reaching into their jackets, almost causing me to perforate them, before retrieving their wallets and flashing badges at us. I looked over at Steven who gave me a bro nod of recognition. He was significantly shorter than Bangers, but I could tell by the fit of his clothing, that he trained. He had an ex-military look to him and figured he was the brawn to Bangers’ brains.

  “You can’t possibly be serious,” Monty said. “Bangers and Mash? Really?”

  “Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?” Bangers said with a smile. “I thought up the name.”

  “Quite…creative,” Monty said after a pause. “Why are you here?”

  “We picked up some strange energy signatures—well Robert did—and we headed right over,” Steven said, glancing at Bangers. “We have experience with these kinds of situations.”

  “Do you, now?” Monty asked, turning to Bangers. “What’s your assessment here?”

  Bangers looked over at Mash as if to say, these poor noobs are clearly out of their depth, and took a step closer to the ice.

  “Clearly, this is the work of an ice demon,” Bangers said, his voice grim. “The ice surrounding the location of this building indicates that it rests on a cold ley line. This positioning attracted the ice demon entity to unleash its power on the building and surrounding area.”

  “Ice demon?” I asked. “Really?”

  “Pretty clear when you know what to look for,” Bangers answered. “You’d be safer over there”—he pointed across the street—“out of the line of fire. No telling how this demon will react once we breach.”

  “We can’t be responsible for your safety,” Mash said, nodding. “This is a professional investigation.”

  I glanced over at Olga, who looked ready to freeze Bangers and Mash on the spot and shatter them into little Professional Paranormal Investigator ice cubes.

  “Monty?” I looked over at him, and then looked over at Olga. “You may want to have a word.”

  “Indeed,” he said, looking at Bangers and Mash. “Keep this conversation here.”

  Monty walked off in Olga’s direction as I holstered Grim Whisper.

  “You’ve been doing this a long time, then?” I asked, focusing on Bangers.

  “Ever since I left the Golden Circle—”

  “Golden Circle?” I asked, trying very hard to keep a straight face. “The mage sect? That Golden Circle?”

  “Yes, I’m surprised you’ve heard of it,” Bangers said, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re a mage?”

  “Yes, I am,” Bangers said. “What do you know of the Golden Circle?”

  “Not much—rumors and stories. It’s supposed to be one of the strongest—”

  “It’s the most powerful sect of mages that still teaches battlemagic.”

  “Battlemagic—wow.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you not being a mage and all.”

  Peaches rumbled next to my leg. I patted his head as Bangers looked down at my hellhound.

  “Is your dog trained?” Bangers asked. “Would hate to see it harmed while we undergo our mission.”

  “Your mission? Oh, right. The ice demon,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about Peaches”—I rubbed his massive head—“he’s very well trained. We’ll stay out of your way. This looks like mage business.”

  “Peaches…really?” Bangers asked, looking at my hellhound. “Well, it’s good to see some non-mages understand the delicate nature and severity of our work.”

  “You’re right, I’m not a mage,” I said. “You plan on using some of this ‘battlemagic’ to stop the ice demon?”

  “Only thing that can work in this situation,” Bangers answered. “Clearly, this is an attack on the building. My associate here”—he glanced at Mash—“is an ex-Navy Seal. Trust me when I say we’re prepared.”

  “Ex-Navy Seal? Impressive. Which team?”

  “Classified,” Mash answered. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.”

  “Totally understand, sensitive information and all,” I said with a nod. “Probably safer that way.”

  “You have no idea,” Mash said. “We’ve seen and done things most civilians wouldn’t understand, much less believe.”

  “You do sound equipped and prepared,” I said. “I’m just surprised I’ve never heard of your team. Are you new to the city?”

  “We go where we’re needed,” Mash said. “Right now, this city is in need of our services.”

  “Not surprising,” Bangers said, with a self-important sniff. “Investigators of our caliber don’t exactly take out ads in the paper. What do you think we are—wizards?”

  “Good point,” I said. “You seem like a top-notch team. How are you going in, if you don’t mind sharing with an amateur like me
?”

  “We plan on using our patented Bangersmash,” Bangers said with a hint of pride. “It’s very effective in these situations.”

  “Let me guess. You created that name, too.”

  “I did,” Bangers answered smugly. “In terms you can understand: we are going to use large amounts of explosives to blow an enormous hole in the ice. Then, we go in and subdue the ice demon. It’s quite complicated. I don’t think you could understand all of the intricacies of mage work.”

  “Sounds complicated, but it looks like you’re ready to deal with it.”

  “We are. Now, please step back and leave this to the professionals.”

  I stepped back as Bangers headed back to their pumpkin bus, which was also surprisingly unscathed from its crash into the Dark Goat. Mash trailed behind him.

  Monty returned from speaking with Olga who, amazingly, looked even more upset than she had before the arrival of Bangers and Mash.

  “She suggested deep freezing the pair along with their vehicle, then dropping them in the river,” Monty said when he drew close. “I advised her that wasn’t a prudent course of action.”

  I glanced over at Olga.

  “You told her you didn’t know them, right?” I asked. “I only ask because she looks like she doesn’t want to follow your advice.”

  “She will refrain from freezing them for now, but we must act.”

  “Are you going to let them go in?”

  “Bangers and Mash?” Monty asked. “Only if I want to have the building destroyed. I don’t understand how they’ve survived this long.”

  “Says he trained at the Golden Circle—your sect.”

  “Impossible,” Monty snapped. “His energy signature is nearly undetectable. If he’s a mage of the Golden Circle, then I’m the Ultimate Grand Archmage of the Universe.”

  “Not a mage, I’m guessing.”

  “Precisely. The child in this building, who caused this ice dwarfs his ability by orders of magnitude.”

  “Well, if the other one is an ex-Navy Seal, I’m Delta Force, CIA, and MI6 all at once,” I said. “I do like the name, though. For some reason Bangers and Mash makes me hungry. Kind of rolls off the tongue.”

  Monty just stared at me for a few long seconds before shaking his head.

  “Bangers was never at the Golden Circle, and like you, I doubt his associate is an ex-Navy anything.”

  “The real question is: how does he know about the Golden Circle?”

  “And how did they sense the energy signature of The Moscow?”

  “Bangers could be sensitive. That doesn’t make him a mage. It does make him dangerous.”

  “He has a unique method of breaching the building, something called the Bangersmash. It involves lots of explosives. At least he has the mage mentality.”

  “Hilarious,” Monty said. “I think Bangers and Mash need to be introduced to the concept of early retirement before they hurt themselves.”

  “More like before Olga hurts them.”

  “That, too. Here they come.”

  I turned to see the pair approaching with a large military ordnance case carried between them.

  “If they open that case, this won’t end well,” I said. “Before you blast them to bits…let’s try diplomacy.”

  FIVE

  Monty stepped forward and intercepted Bangers and Mash before they could get close to the building.

  “It would be an excellent learning opportunity if you allowed us, who are clearly not on your level of power or experience, to deal with this situation,” Monty said in his calmest voice ever, which was somehow scarier than his usual voice of menace. “You would do us a great honor.”

  “Please step aside,” Bangers said, as he and Mash put down the large case. “We don’t want any of you getting hurt. Mash, retrieve the C4 and begin placing charges around the entrance.”

  “Since we’ve both studied at the Golden Circle, I’m sure you’re familiar with the Rule of Hierarchy,” Monty said. “It’s quite the tradition.”

  “You studied at the Golden Circle?” Bangers asked, his voice cracking slightly.“You’re a mage?”

  “Evidently not on your level of power, since I don’t recall ever seeing or hearing of you during my studies there. They must have kept you separated away with the gifted mages.”

  “They must have,” Bangers barely managed to squeak.

  “In any case,” Monty said, waving the words away. “That is where I learned the Rule of Hierarchy, which I’m sure you’re familiar with, yes?”

  “The Rule of Hierarchy?” Bangers asked. “Oh, of course. There were many rules at the Circle.”

  “I’m sure you recall this one,” Monty continued. “The one that states that a higher-level mage must allow a lower-level mage to commence the operations on any serious mission to minimize the danger to the senior?”

  “That Rule of Hierarchy—yes…yes, I recall it very well,” Bangers said nervously. “I don’t see how that applies here, though. Clearly, I’m the only mage in the—”

  Monty gestured, forming a blinding white orb of energy in his hand. Bangers and Mash both looked on in awe, before stepping back several feet, away from Monty.

  “It’s clear, seeing as how you’re the senior in this case, according to the rule, that you are obligated to allow me to attempt to get this situation under control first.”

  “Now...now, that I recall the rule better,” Bangers said, his voice tight, and his eyes fixed on the orb. “I think you’re right. You and your associate should try to get this situation handled. Mash and I will be near our vehicle, for when inevitably, you need our assistance.”

  “Inevitably,” Monty answered, absorbing the orb. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, and I agree—I think you would be safest if you would remain close to your vehicle for the duration of this process.”

  Bangers and Mash picked up the case and moved as quickly as possible to the VW Pumpkin.

  “Who is that?” I heard Mash ask. “How did he do that?”

  “He’s a mage from the Golden Circle,” Bangers answered hurriedly. “Let’s get back to the bus.”

  “Wait, the Golden Circle?” Mash said, glancing our way. “He’s a real mage? You said we wouldn’t run into any real mages.”

  “I was wrong. Now shut it until we get to the bus.”

  “That was generous of you,” I said, watching Bangers and Mash head back to their Pumpkin. “Rule of Hierarchy? Not bad. I’m guessing there’s no such rule?”

  “Of course not,” Monty said. “I know the type. This gave him a way to save face and clear the area.”

  Olga stepped to where we stood.

  “You go now,” she said. “Before building breaks.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  “If those two return while we are inside, stop them,” Monty said, “but don’t kill them.”

  Olga nodded and crossed her arms.

 

 

  “Peaches says you have to hold on.”

  Monty knelt and wrapped an arm around Peaches’ neck.

  “I’m ready,” Monty said, looking down at Peaches. “Inform your creature to keep his salivation to a minimum.”

 

 

 

  Peaches gave a low rumble as the runes along his flanks shone with violet light. With a low bark, the building disappeared.

  SIX

  I don’t know how long we spent in-between.

  Planewalking was slightly different from teleportation. Whenever Monty cast a teleportation circle, the effect was instantaneous. I stepped into the circle and arrived wherever we needed to moments later.

  It took my body several minutes to understand the process, which caused me excruciating agony. Planewalking with Peaches was
closer to sitting in the longest, most insane roller coaster in the world without a harness, seatbelt, or any other method of staying attached to said rollercoaster, to say nothing of the agony that came after it was over.

  We arrived in the hallway outside our space. Everything was covered in the same blue, glowing ice. I leaned against the wall and waited for the rest of my stomach to catch up with me.

  “Inter-planar travel should be getting easier for you,” Monty said, patting Peaches on the head. “Good hellhound.”

  Peaches answered with a rumble and a body shake, which nearly bounced me off the wall with a shattered spine.

  “I think we have different definitions for easier,” I said, waiting for the hallway to stop twisting. “The intestines I left outside would disagree about this getting easier in any way, shape, or form.”

  “If you’d stop fighting your bonds,” Monty said, narrowing his eyes at me, “you wouldn’t suffer this way.”

  I took a step off the wall, felt the floor tilt, and thought better of it, leaning back until everything stopped moving.

  “I’m not fighting my bonds,” I said. “I’m just adjusting to them.”

  “Your adjusting needs adjusting,” Monty said, looking down the hallway to our door. “Can you move? We don’t have the luxury of relaxing.”

  “Relaxing?” I asked with a groan. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “You certainly aren’t addressing the situation at hand,” Monty said, looking at the door where Cece lived. “Jotnar ice mage? Pressed for time? Imminent building collapse? Seething ice-queen landlord? Any of those ring a bell?”

  “No need to be pushy,” I said. “It’s not like my internal organs are convulsing in agony, making anything but shallow breathing an accomplishment.”

  “If you stop fighting your bonds, this won’t be an issue,” Monty answered with a total lack of compassion. “It’s not complicated. Embrace who you are.”

  “I think Hallmark is looking for some compassion writers—you’d fit right in.”

  “I don’t do compassion,” he said. “Mages are pragmatists. We see the situation as it is, not as we wish it to be. You need to do the same, sooner rather than later.”