“My apologies, Director. Seeing the picture of that gentleman distracted me.”
Ramirez glared. “Distracted you? I thought you magic-using wizards didn’t get distracted?”
Monty narrowed his eyes and stared at Ramirez. “Wizards?”
I winced at the mention of wizards. I shook my head slowly. “Don’t call him a wizard.” I picked up the rest of the file and handed it to Ramirez. “Monty’s a mage. Big difference.”
“He’s a sneaky bastard is what he is,” Ramirez said under his breath, glaring at Monty. “I told you it was my only copy, and then he goes getting distracted and flames your file? That wasn’t a distraction, that was intentional.”
Ramirez took the remaining papers and shoved them into his bag. He pushed his chair back and stood to leave. “You find out who this guy is and locate George too. I have a feeling these two are connected somehow, and that can’t be good.”
I escorted Ramirez toward the main entrance. It opened a few seconds later as Jimmy poked his head in. I looked at him, surprised. He pointed at the corner with his chin.
“Cameras. After last time, no more surprises.”
I looked to the corners and noticed the dim red lights in each one. “Smart move.” I nodded in approval. “The director will be leaving.”
“I’m not done doing research, Strong.” Ramirez turned, giving me a scowl. “I need to know who or what I’m dealing with. Especially regarding this ‘Shadow Company’ you were in.”
“You need to leave that alone, Angel, really. Let’s focus on George and on stopping him before he does something that can get us all killed.”
“I’m focusing on George and Shadow Company. Seems your group was a bit on the deranged side.”
“Digging up my past will only give you nightmares.”
“Nightmares? You two loose in my city is a waking nightmare every day. Besides, you can never outrun your past. It defines who you are, who you become.”
“Very profound.” I stepped closer to him so I could lower my voice. “If you keep digging into Shadow Company, you’ll attract attention. The kind of attention you don’t want. Leave it alone.”
“I’m not scared of a little attention,” he said under his breath and matching my tone. “I’ll take my chances. Find George and the mystery man with the crazy eyes.”
I paused for a few seconds. His trying to unearth my past was going to be a problem. I was going to have to call Hack.”
“Top of the to-do list, promise.” I was about to head back to the table when he grabbed my arm.
“Oh, and no more blown-up buildings. It’s been quiet since you two have been out of the city. No major explosions, and my city has stayed in one piece. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Why does everyone look at me when they say that?” I removed my arm from his hand with a tug. “I’m not the one you need to be speaking to.”
Ramirez pushed his way past Jimmy to exit the room. “Call me the moment you have something.”
Jimmy didn’t follow and waited until Ramirez had exited the Rump before approaching the table.
“Why is everyone blaming me for your destruction?” I said.
Monty looked up from the picture. “Possibly because you’re at the scene of each instance of said destruction?”
“As are you,” I replied. “Yet, I don’t see anyone blaming you for blowing up their buildings. Since when does my being at the scene mean I’m the cause?”
“Most sane people refrain from accusing mages of anything. Something to do with wielding matter-altering energy.”
“And mages being perpetually cranky.”
“This is going to be a problem.” Monty pointed at the picture of the man with the crazy eyes. “George is not capable of producing energy spikes on his own.”
Jimmy cleared his throat with a cough. “There’s someone outside waiting for you in the shop.”
I looked at Monty. “You expecting someone?”
“Not particularly.” He picked up the photo and put it in an inside pocket. “We should see who it is, though.”
I made sure Grim Whisper and Ebonsoul were easily accessible and followed them out.
ELEVEN
THE RUNEWORK DEFENSES in the Randy Rump were some of the best. Considering it served as a neutral location, I expected very little magical activity inside its walls.
I narrowed my eyes and looked at the rune-covered columns. I noticed that the walls, floor, and ceiling were also covered in intricate symbols.
“You added runework to the defenses?”
“Yes,” Jimmy answered and waved to one of the patrons. “One of the mages from the Council offered to reinforce them after your—last time. I like the place as a meeting hall and butcher shop, not a crater.”
The Rump had a vibrant energy. I saw a few mages and assorted magic-users discussing theorems in animated conversations. Once or twice I heard the name Ziller. Others were intently studying thick books.
Not everyone in the Rump was a magic-user. The majority of the patrons were from the surrounding neighborhood, picking up choice cuts of meat for dinner or sitting down and enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee.
I counted six mage guards standing or sitting in strategic locations throughout the seating area. Once night fell, the mage guards would be replaced with vampires or shifters of some sort. The Dark Council took the safety and neutrality of its designated locations seriously. Violating the established rules of neutral locations could end in permanent retirement…from life. They were taking extra precautions with the Rump after Beck, a Negomancer, had decided to explode the place.
Jimmy led us to a corner of the Rump. It was a group of three tables, and all but one was empty. Seated there, alone, was a short, older man who radiated power. His broad frame took up most of the corner, and his rough callused hands were wrapped around a large flagon of yellowish liquid I didn’t recognize. The smell coming from the flagon reminded me of honey.
Jimmy moved two tables and relocated some chairs for Monty and me. “He’s making the guards nervous,” he said under his breath. “Is this a friend of yours?”
I shook my head. “Never seen him before. I think he belongs to Monty’s club of magic-users.”
“He does.” Monty pulled out a chair and moved to sit at the table. “But he’s not a magic-user in the traditional sense.”
“What’s he drinking?” I asked, looking at the industrial-sized flagon. “I don’t recognize it.”
“Mead,” Jimmy said under his breath.
“Mead? As in honey-wine? You know how to make mead?”
“I do now. He gave me the recipe a while back. This particular blend is called Acerglyn,” Jimmy answered and looked warily at the figure seated at the table. “Tristan, is your intense friend going to unleash anything that can destroy the Rump?”
“No,” Monty answered, “he’s just here to make a delivery. Isn’t that right, Cecil?”
“Quite right.” The air around him crackled with orange energy. Cecil rubbed a hand through his short gray hair, rubbed his neatly trimmed goatee, and gave Jimmy a tight smile. “Just a delivery.”
“Right, in that case, I’ll leave you to it. Make sure you keep any and all destructive energies localized in this”—Jimmy made a circular motion around the table with a hand—“general area. We just finished renovations.” He finished by giving me a look and then walked away.
“Did you see that look?” I said, pulling up a chair. “Why is he looking at me?”
“No, sorry, I missed it,” Monty replied, turning to Cecil. “Since when do you deliver anything? Where’s Robert?”
“Robert’s out and about, running some errands. This vehicle needed some special attention, which is why I’m here.”
“Cecil, this is Simon Strong. I don’t think you’ve formally met.”
“I know who he is, Tristan,” Cecil said, giving me a short nod, which I returned. “Anyone who gets a SuNaTran vehicle gets vetted by my people. We know all
about Mr. Strong.”
The way he’d said that last sentence set off my radar. Maybe I was just anxious after my conversation with Ramirez, but it felt like Cecil knew more about me than I’d feel comfortable sharing.
“Tell me it’s not a Prius, please.” I looked outside but didn’t see any vehicle. “What is it?”
“I’ll get to that in a second.” Cecil raised a hand, taking a long drink of the mead. The sweet smell grew stronger as he drank. “Ahh, haven’t had mead this good in a long time. Ever since home. That Jimmy is an artist.”
He looked off into the distance wistfully.
“Where exactly is home?”
“Nevermind.” He waved my words away. “Let’s discuss the reason I’m here. Your vehicle.”
Cecil rested his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers, and looked at us in silence. I swore his hazel eyes flickered with power as they bored into me. I wondered how bad it was if it was taking him this long to tell us.
“Damn, it’s a Gremlin, isn’t it?” Cecil remained silent. “God, worse than a Gremlin? Is it an AMC Pacer?”
“Tristan,” Cecil said, breaking his silence, “you recall several years ago, we took a 1970 Chevy Camaro and created a SuNaTran vehicle?”
“I heard the rumors,” Monty said, his voice grim. “You didn’t bring us that, did you?”
Cecil shook his head. “No, that’s being used by someone else.”
Monty raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You allowed that vehicle out on the road?”
“The Beast is cursed, not evil.”
“I heard three drivers died after driving it.”
“Technically, that’s true.”
“Technically?” I stared at Cecil. “What kind of car kills its driver?”
“The cursed kind,” Monty replied before Cecil could answer. “Something to do with the runic configuration and its disruption of life energies. What did you bring us?”
“Who is driving this Beast now?” I wondered aloud.
“That’s not important,” Cecil answered quickly. “What’s important is that I was able to decipher some of the runes that made the Beast indestructible and apply them to your vehicle.”
“You gave us a cursed vehicle?” I looked at Monty, who held up a hand and sighed. “Is he trying to kill us?”
Monty narrowed his eyes. “I know you’re still upset about London and the Urus. We can reimburse you for the cost and any difficulty you incurred. There’s no need to foist a cursed vehicle on Simon.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘on Simon’?”
“That’s just it,” Cecil added with a hint of excitement. “Mr. Strong is the perfect driver…if the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” I asked cautiously.
“That you can’t die.”
TWELVE
“WHERE DID YOU hear these rumors?” Monty sat back, but I could feel the shift in energy around the table. “I’m curious.”
“Mostly my own research from previous incidents. I like to keep an eye on the people who drive my vehicles.”
“You’ve been keeping tabs on us?”
“SuNaTran is my reputation, my name,” Cecil answered, staring at me. “You can rest assured I keep track of my vehicles and their drivers, especially when SuNaTran vehicles are being melted or exploded.”
“Those were…extenuating circumstances,” Monty mumbled.
“Your ‘extenuating circumstances’ are making my vehicles look bad.” Cecil pointed at Monty. “After watching you two for a while, I realized it wasn’t my vehicles. It was the complete and total shitstorm you two generate around you.”
“I wouldn’t classify it as a ‘shitstorm,’ but there does seem to be an element of chaos that encompasses our activities whenever we—”
I shook my head. “It’s a shitstorm, Monty. Between your spells and my investigative prowess—”
“Prowess? More like reckless abandon.” Monty pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cecil, what did you learn in your observations?”
“Things that should’ve been fatal to Mr. Strong here, weren’t.” Cecil kept staring at me. It was starting to creep me out. He turned back to Monty. “Sure, he can take a beating and is reckless as hell. But there were situations he shouldn’t have walked away from, unless he wasn’t normal.”
“I’m just lucky.”
“No, this isn’t luck.” Cecil glanced at Peaches, who rumbled at him. “Also, there’s been talk about an immortal detective with a large dog-like creature who”—he looked down at Peaches again—“happens to be the offspring of a certain mythological creature, and runs around with a mage partner. By the way, that’s a nice collar. Who did the work?”
“Fordey Boutique,” Monty said. “TK specifically.”
Cecil nodded in admiration, staring at Peaches’ collar. He didn’t get closer because the rumble increased in volume as he leaned in.
“A regulator and temporal enhancer?” Cecil shifted in his seat to get a better look at the collar. “He’s gone huge?”
“You’ve been to Nidavellir?” Monty asked.
“Not in ages. TK managed to reshape entropy stones?” He tugged on his goatee and appraised the collar with admiration. “I’ve always said that woman was skilled.”
“Where is all this talk happening?” I looked at them, slightly confused about where the conversation was going. “That’s what I’d like to know, and where is Nidavellir?”
Cecil turned to face me. “You three don’t exactly blend in, and you’ve made some powerful enemies. Take the car. Calibrate to the runes, and call me if you experience any side effects.”
“Side effects? Like sudden death?”
“Sure, or worse.”
“Worse…than death?”
“There are plenty of things that are worse than death.” Cecil reached into his coat pockets, clearly looking for something. “Here they are.”
He stood and placed two keyrings on the table. Attached to each ring was a fob and what looked like a metal Bluetooth symbol.
“The new car has Bluetooth?”
Cecil glared at me with a ‘how have you managed to live this long?’ look and shook his head before turning to Monty. “Those are binding runes. Your new vehicle is camouflage capable. Once you calibrate to it, and I suggest you both do, those runes will bind you to the car so you can locate it wherever it is. Think runic GPS. Try not to park it where someone will smash into it. It would be bad…for them.”
“Can we both drive it?” Monty asked, picking up a keyring. “Or are the runes you deciphered the same ones that hold the curse?”
“I suggest you let Mr. Strong drive the car, as a precaution. Just until the kinks are worked out.”
“You mean to see if the car will try and kill me.”
“Something like that. Plus, you’re going to help me with another little problem I have. Let’s get you in your new vehicle. It’s around the corner.”
We followed Cecil outside. I saw Jimmy keeping an eye on us as we headed out of the Rump.
“Do these runes affect anyone else in the car?” Monty asked once we were outside. “Or is it only the driver?”
“Only the driver. It has to do with the defensive runic configuration around the vehicle. These particular runes have to be placed under the driver for the protective sphere to enclose the vehicle.”
“Have you tried shifting the location?”
Cecil shook his head. “We tried. Placing it anywhere else causes the sphere to collapse in on itself.” Cecil pointed ahead. “Over there.”
I looked down the street and saw nothing.
“Where?”
Cecil reached into a pocket and pulled out a small black box. It gleamed in the afternoon sun and reminded me of a large entropy stone. The box had several buttons on its surface, each covered with runes. He pressed a combination of buttons, and a vehicle shimmered into sight.
“There,” he said with a smile. “That’s your new car.”
THIRTEEN
“I’m still not driving that monstrosity,” Monty said. “Once again, the steering wheel is on the wrong side, Cecil.”
“It’s a…it’s a Goat,” I half-whispered. “Can I?”
Cecil motioned for me to get closer.
The Pontiac GTO got its name from the Ferrari 250 GTO, a rare and beautiful piece of automotive art. The GTO stands for Grand Tourismo Omologato. I’m sure no one wanted to say that mouthful—so GTO became Goat, and a legendary muscle car was christened.
As much as I could appreciate Italian artisanship, nothing came close to American muscle. When it came to muscle cars, for me, the Goat rose above them all.
“How did you—?” I looked at Cecil. “It’s a Goat.”
“You do realize there were quite a few of them made, right? Thousands actually.”
“Of course.” I nodded. “I just thought after London you were going to give us a Pacer or a Pinto. You know, something horrendous to drive and be seen in as payback for the destruction of the Urus.”
“No,” Cecil said with a smile. “I made sure Tristan bought this one.”
“Yes, the price was exorbitant. A grand total of one dollar.”
I looked at Cecil. “Really?”
“I couldn’t just give it to you. There’s a principle involved.”
“A whole dollar?”
“For this vehicle there had to be an exchange. A cost was needed.”
“You needed to use agency funds, really?” I looked at Monty. “I hope that didn’t shatter the account.”
“I equipped it with everything the other one had plus a few extras, and if you manage to destroy this one, it will help me with the Beast.”
“That’s your real motivation,” Monty said. “Your ‘little problem’ is that you don’t know how to destroy the Beast.”
“What does that have to do with the Goat?” I asked. “Why does he need to destroy the Beast?”
Dragons & Demigods: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 6) Page 7