Dragons & Demigods: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 6)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “That is a Kragzimik.”

  Monty raised an eyebrow and sipped more tea. “I thought they were all gone. Wiped out centuries ago.”

  “A Krag what?” I looked down at the book but had never seen anything or anyone resembling the image. “What’s this?”

  “That’s the image of a nightmare. That is a dragon.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “IS THAT HIS name or the species?”

  “It has been both. In this case, it’s the classification of an entity. It’s a dragon, not a person. He may be using this classification as a name, or not.”

  “How bad are these Kragzimik?” I turned the book and the image shifted with my perspective, keeping it facing me. “I mean, we’ve dealt with dragons before.”

  “A dragon,” Monty said. “Singular.”

  “Refresh my memory,” Ezra said with a motion of his hand. “How did that encounter with ‘Slif’ go again?”

  It didn’t surprise me that he knew about Slif. Very little about the knowledge Ezra possessed surprised me anymore. He was one of the personifications of Death. It meant he had access to information unavailable to anyone else.

  “Badly. We lost Cassandra and nearly lost Quan,” I replied. “And she wasn’t even the real Slif, who I hear is a real off-the-charts scary dragon.”

  “You dealt with a lesser dragon imposter.” Ezra stared at me. “Kragzimik are greater dragons. Several orders of magnitude above what you faced. Usually when one of these appeared in a city”—he pointed at the book—“the city was evacuated or razed to the ground. Sometimes both.”

  “This is New York City,” I said. “We can’t do either. Are you suggesting that obliterating the city is easier than dealing with this creature?”

  He waved a hand palm down and made a rocking motion. “Eh, it’s a toss-up. These things are meshugga.”

  I looked at Monty. “Don’t you have a dragon-ending spell we can use? Something that doesn’t require destroying the city?”

  He looked at me and gave me the ‘are you insane?’ look. “We tried that—twice.” He sipped some more tea. “I’m not unleashing another void vortex in the city.”

  Ezra shook his head slowly. “Then I guess you’re going to have to face the Kragzimik. He’ll probably have a group of young drakes with him. Greater dragons rarely travel alone.”

  “Drakes? Really. How many?”

  “Lots. Have you tested how immortal you are? If you die, are you mostly dead? Being mostly dead is still slightly alive, you know.”

  “I did die and come back in London. Far as I can tell, I’m mostly immortal,” I replied after a brief pause. “Those are the only options, really? Razing, evacuation, or suicide?”

  “Well, for an immortal, like you, it’s not too bad. You may need to die a few hundred times, but I’m sure he’ll get tired eventually. That’s when you strike—when he’s worn out. Well, after you deal with the drakes. You two—excuse me, three—have chutzpah, I think you can do it.”

  I stared at Ezra in disbelief. I was conscious of the fact that, whatever my response, this was still Death, with a capital D, whom I was talking to, not an old Jewish scholar. I opted for tact and self-preservation.

  “You’ve really been working on that sense of humor,” I said. “I can tell.”

  “Why would a Kragzimik be active now?” Monty peered over into the book. “Dragons of that age and power rarely get involved in human affairs. They view any living thing that isn’t a dragon as insignificant and they measure time in eons.”

  “The real question is: How do we deal with a Kragzimik? Last time we dealt with a dragon we got our asses kicked, and I distinctly remember being dragonploded.”

  “How do you deal with any being stronger than you are who’s also older, wiser, and able to wield enough power to wipe you off the face of the earth with little effort?”

  “Have you and Monty been taking the same demotivational courses?” I asked. “My first answer would be, run away…at speed.”

  “You find another being just as strong or stronger,” Monty said quietly. “And get them to fight each other.”

  Ezra rubbed the side of his nose with his index finger and pointed at Monty. “Exactly. If a Kragzimik is wandering the streets of this city, he wants something. Something powerful. Find out what that is and convince something stronger to get it.”

  “Is a demigod as strong as a dragon?” My phone vibrated in my pocket, followed by the Imperial Death March. “I need to take this.”

  Ezra waved me on as I stood and moved to the corner while he kept speaking to Monty.

  Usually it was the one ringtone I dreaded hearing. The Hack used it after he managed to override the settings of my phone. Now it only played when he called. Tonight, this call signified a meeting with George. I took a deep breath, let it out, and connected the call.

  “Hello, Hack.” I tried to keep my voice light. “What do you have for me?”

  “I wanted to send it….send it,” Hack said, more agitated than usual. “Too dangerous. Rottweiler chomp! Too dangerous!”

  “Slow down, Hack.” I kept my voice even and modulated. “Do you have a number for me?”

  Hack read off a string of digits, which I committed to memory. I heard him take a deep breath and exhale.

  “This is dangerous, Simon.” His voice was calmer and had switched gears into semi-lucid territory. “He was hard to trace. They’re good. I’m better. Whatever he’s using, it smells military. This George is rotten. Did you see what I did there? Anyway, you should stay away. He’s a shadow…black…hidden. Keep away. Verboten!”

  I interrupted before Hack entered full-blown ranting territory. “Did you get a location?”

  “No. The line is being blocked, or he’s keeping it off. My guess is that he’s using masking software or something with a geosync to stay in the dark. Be careful with this person. People who need to keep to the shadows are the real monsters. Hack out!”

  He hung up.

  Monty gave me a glance and a raised eyebrow, which meant: had I gotten anything valuable from my marginally sane cybercriminal contact? I’d become pretty fluent in the language of Montyglance.

  I nodded and dialed the number Hack had given me for George. It did the same delay thing, and I imagined it was bouncing and piggybacking all over the place in an effort not to be traced. After a long silence, the call connected.

  “Strong.” George’s voice was a harsh rasp full of menace and pain. “Took you long enough.”

  “We need to talk. Face to face.”

  “Where?”

  “Schurz. 0600.”

  “You bringing the mage?”

  “And my hellhound.” I paused. “That going to be a problem?”

  “No problem. I’ll bring my friends, then. Let’s take a stroll with John Finley and have one last conversation.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Schurz. 0600. Don’t be late.”

  NINETEEN

  “DO YOU TRUST him?” Monty asked as we sped uptown.

  “Not anymore,” I said and stepped on the gas pedal. “In the Company, he was insane, but he defended us. I think that George is gone now.”

  “I didn’t get to finish my tea.” Monty rifled through the glove compartment. “That’s really unacceptable.”

  “That’s your main concern, right now? A cup of tea?”

  Monty shot me a glare. “It wasn’t just a cup of tea. It was near perfection. Perfectly steeped, the water at the right temperature. Exquisite. At least Ezra gave me this.”

  He held up a small pouch that contained leaves.

  “You brought tea leaves with you?”

  “You carry a flask. Do I criticize your obsession with bean juice?”

  “Bean juice? Coffee is ambrosia. Are you kidding me right now?”

  “I never kid about tea. Never. All I need now is a cup.”

  “You…you have a problem.”

  We had half an hour to get to the park. Carl Schurz Pa
rk was a parcel of land that ran from E 84th Street and ended at E 90th Street. It was sandwiched between East End Avenue and the FDR.

  Back in my Shadow Company days, urban exercises would be conducted on the grounds. We’d use Gracie Mansion as our base and run ops out of the mayor’s home, stretching into the late hours of the night.

  Afterward, I would sit on the Esplanade benches, look out over the East River, or walk down to the far end of the park using the small footpath. It was named after John Finley, who was known for strolling around the perimeter of the island.

  If I knew George, he’d want to meet at the 86th Street entrance on the Esplanade. It was a perfect trap.

  “What are the odds he’ll listen to reason and stop this vendetta?” Monty glanced at me, replacing the tea pouch in a pocket. “You trained with him.”

  “Trained. Past tense. What I remember is what earned him his nickname. George was a man of singular focus. When he made up his mind to do something, nothing stopped him.”

  “I don’t suppose he’ll stop this path of vengeance, considering he lost his daughter to dragons.”

  “No, not likely,” I said, my voice grim. “He’ll expect me to take him down. A face-to-face ‘talk’ only ends with one of us walking away.”

  “Can you?” Monty asked. “You said you owed him. What will you do when the time comes to stop him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  I made a right on 86th Street and headed east into the rising sun.

  TWENTY

  I PARKED THE Dark Goat in front of the 86th Street entrance. I checked Grim Whisper and tightened Ebonsoul’s sheath. I felt Monty looking at me and I gave him a quick, short nod before getting out of the car.

  “Let’s do this.”

  I opened the back door, and Peaches rolled out slowly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  “Two hostiles?” I locked the Dark Goat and headed into the Park. Monty gestured and joined me a few seconds later. “I expected an assault force or at least a hand. If I were George, I’d have this place crawling with my men and then let us come in.”

  “A classic pincer move.” Monty looked around. “Let the enemy approach and then crush them from both sides with overwhelming force.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I’d do.”

  Peaches sniffed the air and turned in a circle.

 

 

 

 

  Monty must’ve seen the look on my face. “What is it?” he asked as I opened my jacket, making sure I had access to my weapons.

  “Peaches says two main hostiles, I’m guessing George and his ‘friend.’ Several more porting in and out all around us.” I peered into the park. “I’m not seeing or sensing anything. You?”

  “Are you sure your creature isn’t delirious from the obscene amount of meat he just ingested?”

  “That was my first question. He says they aren’t human.”

  “That can mean one of two things: either Mr. Rott really came here just to talk, but wanted insurance” —it was my turn to give Monty the ‘are you insane?’ look—“or his friend isn’t alone, and he did bring an assault force.”

  “I’ll go with, ‘Did he bring an inhuman assault force?’ for four hundred, Alex,” I said, looking around the park. “Are you sensing anything runic? Oblivion circles or pulverizing traps?”

  “Pulverizing traps? When have we ever encountered a pulverizing trap?”

  “You know, traps that can crush, mangle, or dismember us with extreme pain?”

  “You have a hellhound for that.”

  “We’re dealing with demigods. You never know.”

  He sighed. “Pulverizing traps, indeed,” he muttered under his breath. We stood still while Monty narrowed his eyes and scanned the area. “No oblivion circles or pulverizing traps that I can see.”

  I let out a breath in relief and started walking again. “Good.” I patted Peaches on the head. “Maybe he just overate. Twenty pounds is a lot of meat.”

  “Overate? Is that even possible for your creature? That statement implies he has a limit. Something I’ve yet to witness.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  “We still need to proceed with caution.”

  “You just said we were clear of traps.”

  “That’s not to say they don’t exist,” Monty added. “Just that I can’t detect them presently.”

  “Really?”

  Peaches padded next to me and bumped into my leg, nearly knocking my hip out of its socket. “What is it?”

  Peaches growled and rumbled. I looked in the direction he was facing. There was motion in the trees, but it was too fast to track accurately.

  “I stand corrected,” Monty said, looking into the trees and closing his eyes for several seconds before opening them again. “We are presently surrounded by a large amount of beings, though I can’t accurately determine what they are.”

  I looked ahead and saw two figures on the promenade. The sky grew lighter as we approached the circular steps leading up to the Esplanade and a view of the East River.

  “Let’s not keep them waiting.” I gestured forward with my chin and climbed the right staircase leading up. Monty took the left, and we met at the top of the stairs. A broad promenade extended to the right and left. It was deserted, except for the two figures in front of us. One of them leaned casually over the railing and looked into the East River. The other stood, arms akimbo, looking down the stairs and into my face.

  A cool breeze whipped off the river and made its way through the park. It was going to be a hot one today, but for now, the warm glow of the sun welcomed us to a new day. I just hoped it wasn’t my last.

  I recognized George right away. He gazed into the river with his back to us. I had to look closer to make out akimbo-man. It was Crazy Eyes Sal, who now sported a full beard. Peaches rumbled next to me like a chainsaw on idle. The rumble kicked up a notch when he saw Sal.

 

 

 

 

  “Hello, Strong,” George said, turning to face us. “It’s been a while.”

  “It has. I see you’ve been keeping busy.”

  “You could say that.” George glanced at Monty. “Make sure your mage keeps his hands where I can see them and no finger movement. We clear?”

  “Completely.” Monty extended his arms down and to his sides, splaying his fingers. “Will this suffice?”

  Crazy Eyes Sal nodded and kept his focus on Monty. I assumed he thought the mage was the greatest threat. I would have agreed before the Sanctuary. Now I’d say I was a close second in the destruction and obliteration department, even though I’d never admit it to Monty.

  George wore black combat armor, complete with an armored hood designed specifically for Shadow Company. Two thigh holsters held guns to match the double shoulder holsters. Both calves held two sheaths, each containing large blades.

  Each arm contained a forearm sheath, and he wore what appeared to be titanium-laced gloves. I narrowed my gaze and saw he was wearing SuperTac armor. It was the armor used by the Company when facing supernatural threats.

  The armor was covered in faintly glowing orange runes that shimmered in the growing
sunlight. George was going to war and he was bringing all the weapons.

  Recognition focused my attention on one of the shoulder holsters. One of the guns stood out. It was a Taurus Tracker Model 627 in .357 Magnum. Cassandra’s hand-cannon. He had modified it. Black energy surrounded and wafted up from the hand-cannon. Entropy rounds.

  I ignored Crazy Eyes Sal for the moment and approached George. Sal moved to intercept me, but George shook his head. Sal stepped back and focused on Monty again.

  “Looks like you’re going to war.” I pointed at the arsenal George was wearing. “Where’s the invasion?”

  George looked down at the weapons he wore. His hand rested on the Taurus and he nodded.

  “I have a debt to clear.” He looked up at me but kept his hand on the gun. “Either of you have children?”

  Silence.

  Monty and I both knew what it would mean to have families. Any one of our enemies could and would use them against us. It made us vulnerable, and vulnerability was weakness in the eyes of those who would come after them and us. It was a weakness they would exploit.

  I shook my head. George looked off to the side.

  “Didn’t think so. Why are you here, Strong?”

  “Can’t let you do this,” I replied quietly. “You go after this enclave, these dragons, and you’ll start something you won’t be able to finish.”

  “Can’t let me?” He gave me a dry laugh. “You should be joining me. She died on your watch, Strong. Where the hell were you when a dragon ripped her from me?”

  “She knew the danger. I tried to keep her safe, away from the threat.”

  “You failed.”

  “What were you thinking?” I pointed at his chest as the anger rose in me. “You think because she was George Rott’s daughter she somehow was going to be impervious to danger? She wasn’t ready.”

  “I was thinking that after saving your ass more times than I can count, that the least you could do was watch her back and keep her alive.”

  “You know the risks. How many men, trained men, did we lose in the Company?”

  “Save your breath.” He glared at me. It was a look of anger, mixed with pain, and something else…despair. “You’re wasting your time. Wasting my time.”