Dark Glass
A Montague and Strong Detective Agency Novel
Orlando A. Sanchez
Contents
Description
Quotation
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
Author Notes
WALKING THE RAZOR-ONE
Special Mentions
About the Author
Bitten Peaches Publishing
Acknowledegements
Contact Me
ART SHREDDERS
Thanks for Reading!
Description
Sometimes, being immortal can get you killed.
When Fate pays Simon a visit accusing him of disrupting causality, she makes him an offer he can’t refuse—become mortal or die.
There’s only one small problem.
In order to become mortal, Simon must find the goddess, Kali the Destroyer, and convince her to remove her curse. To complicate matters further, Haven and Roxanne are under attack by an ancient spell-an entropic sphere designed to kill everyone inside the facility.
Now, Monty and Simon must find out why Simon is disrupting causality, stop a lethal sphere from killing innocents, and convince an angry goddess to lift a curse.
A typical day in the Montague and Strong Detective Agency.
Join the Trio of Terror as they discover that not everything is as it seems, and sometimes, the past can kill you.
"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."
1Corinthians 13:12
ONE
I woke up to a delicate tongue-slapping.
“What…what?” I said, pushing my hellhound away from my face. “I don’t need a tongue bath. What is it?”
He padded off and left me alone.
I laid my head back on my pillow and realized how surreal my life had become. For once, there were no angry gods or world-ending cataclysms on the schedule. I had a moment to actually bask in doing…nothing.
I never anticipated being cursed alive by Kali, bonding to a hellhound, and working cases with a grouchy mage. I couldn’t even begin to explain my complicated relationship with an ancient vampire.
Despite my several near-death moments, I wouldn’t trade it in for a ‘normal life’. It was clear my brain was still tired. I had the perfect solution. Deathwish with a splash of javambrosia would right all wrongs this morning.
I jumped out of bed, and nearly faceplanted as I crashed into the immobile object known as Peaches. He had the bad habit of materializing in the oddest places and at the strangest times.
“What did I tell you about doing that?” I said, catching my balance before introducing my face to the floor. “Walk around the house…walk. Not ‘blink in-between and give me a heart attack’.”
He sniffed the air around the bed and chuffed.
Now I was getting concerned. It was one thing for him to accuse me of making noises when I slept (which, for the record, I didn’t), it was something else entirely when he started smelling things as off.
He stepped close, sniffed me, and shook his head, slobbering my face.
I wiped the slobber from my face.
The room with the ‘big table’ was our conference room. I got dressed, washed my face of Peaches’ magical slobber, and headed to the kitchen. A kettle was whistling on the stove as Monty came in, holding a book.
“Peaches says I smell,” I said, pouring my Deathwish Extreme. “What do you think that means?”
“Perhaps it’s time for a shower?” Monty said, glancing down at my hellhound. “Animals have a keen sense for these sorts of things.”
“Morning English humor,” I said. “My day can’t get off to a better start. I’m serious. He says I smell different.”
“Different how?” Monty now asked, concerned. “Can he clarify?”
“Like I ate bad meat.”
“Did you?”
“You two are on a roll today,” I said. “I don’t eat bad meat.”
“Just eliminating the possibilities,” he said, putting a teabag into the water. “Your diet is questionable at times.”
“Just because I prefer to eat meat over leaves, doesn’t mean I eat poorly.”
“Exactly. Meat is life,” I said, looking down at Peaches who held his titanium bowl in his jaws. “The Zen Meat Master has spoken.”
Peaches dropped his bowl with a thud, nearly crushing my toes in the process.
“He says it’s not me,” I repeated, feeling like any moment now I’d be sharing about little Timmy who fell down a well and needed rescuing. “It’s the air around me.”
“The air around you? Do you have gas?”
I stared at Monty.
“Seriously?”
“I keep telling you those late night snacks will be the death of you,” he said, wagging a finger. “It appears your creature agrees. Yo
u could stand to eat a salad every now and then.”
“Let’s forget about my eating habits for a moment and pretend this is serious,” I said. “Can you do your squinty Eastwood thing on my energy signature?”
“I do not do a ‘squinty Eastwood thing’, I shift spectrums by focusing my vision,” Monty said. “This allows me to see irregularities in energy signatures. All mages can do this.”
“Right,” I answered. “Your squinty Eastwood glare…can you do that?”
“If you insist,” Monty said, pouring the boiling water onto the tea leaves. “I still think a good salad will set you right.”
“Indulge me.”
Monty put the kettle down, narrowed his eyes, and looked at me. His expression grew serious, I mean it became more serious than his resting scowl face.
“What is it?” I asked, concerned. “Your face looks extra scowly.”
“Your energy signature.”
“What about it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s phasing, expanding and contracting,” Monty answered. “I’ve never seen anything like it in a non-mage. How did I not sense this?”
“That sounds bad. It’s not supposed to do that, is it?”
“We all vibrate at a specific frequency, everything does—”
“Can I have the non-Ziller explanation?” I asked. “I haven’t had my coffee yet. My brain is fragile right now.”
“Phasing only happens to mages when they shift,” he said. “Since you aren’t a mage, I have no concrete explanation for what is happening to you. Your frequency is fluctuating, which usually means you are dying, and leaving this plane of existence.”
“I don’t do the dying thing though,” I said, confused. “Kali made sure of that.”
“I know,” Monty answered. “That only leaves one other possibility.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to be thrilled to hear this other possibility?”
“It could be that your specific condition has allowed you to absorb an abundance of runic energy,” Monty said, “causing a catastrophic breakdown of your signature as a side effect.”
“Oh, that’s all?” I said. “Would you mind explaining that in English now?”
“It appears you’re poisoned and dying.”
TWO
I heard the words, but my brain couldn’t or wouldn’t process them.
“What do you mean, I’m dying? That’s impossible. Cursed alive, remember?”
“Well, it seems like you have been exposed to too much energy,” Monty began, in his best college lecturer voice. “Think of runic energy as radiation. A small amount is harmless, like sitting on the beach in the summer sun. Too much exposure over a prolonged period and—”
“You get a sunburn,” I said, still somewhat confused but getting the gist. “You’re saying I’ve been runically burned?”
“What I’m seeing in your signature would be closer to sun poisoning,” Monty answered. “Do you feel any nausea? Are you having any hallucinations or odd thoughts?”
“Only when we teleport.”
“What about odd thoughts?”
“Does the fact that you fling energy orbs around, or that I can mentally speak to my hellhound count as hallucinations or odd thoughts?”
“Neither. I was referring to you having thoughts about casting specific powerful spells, or moments of time dilation or constriction.”
“Casting specific spells? I’m not a mage, Monty. As for time being diluted, it feels the same as always, one-hundred percent pure madness.”
“Dilation, not dilution,” Monty corrected. “Time doesn’t feel strange or odd to you?”
“Strange or odd?” I asked. “Why would it? I mean, I have a grumpy mage partner, a hellhound bondmate, and I can, surprisingly, cast some magic. Who knew?”
“What do you mean…grumpy? I was referring to—”
“I also have a weapon inside of me somewhere, we’ve dealt with gods—one of which cursed me alive—creatures I thought never existed, all kinds of magic and magic-users, some friendly, most deadly.”
“Yes, this is all true, what I meant—”
“I’ve been stabbed, blown up multiple times, crushed, teleported enough times that thinking about it makes my stomach turn, shot, crushed some more, blasted by orbs, subjected to miscellaneous magic, nearly disintegrated with the first Goat, and oh, even killed.”
“It would seem that—”
“In addition, I have a ‘relationship’ with a vampire…a vampire who even I don’t understand. Complicated doesn’t begin to describe it. To top it all off, I get blamed for the destruction caused by mages—present company included—and by other assorted creatures that wreak havoc in our city. So you tell me, Monty, which part qualifies as strange or odd?”
“You seem distressed.”
“You just told me I’m poisoned and dying! How did you think I would I react?”
“I think it may be time for a short period of vacation.”
“You think?” I scoffed. “Where to? Hades? I hear the underworld is great this time of year.”
“That’s actually not a bad suggestion,” Monty said. “It is out of the way and somewhat secluded. You could even invite your vampire.”
“I will,” I said, nodding. “If you invite Roxanne.”
“I’m not the one who needs to destress,” he said, quickly. “This vacation is primarily for your peace of mind.”
“My mind is already in pieces. Haven’t you noticed?”
“On more than one occasion, yes. We can discuss the vacation another time.”
“Or you just don’t want to invite Roxanne to a secluded getaway…in Hades?”
“Your humor, as usual, never ceases to disappoint,” he said. “Maybe you should go alone, with your creature? That way we both get a vacation.”
“I hope to one day be able to match your level of drollery,” I mocked. “Can we deal with my catastrophic life-ending energy signature first?”
It was clear I needed my coffee. I took a long pull of Deathwish, reactivating my grumpy brain into some sort of activity.
“Indeed,” he said. “Dealing with your current condition takes precedence.”
“Sorry,” I said and meant it. “I was just looking forward to some downtime from not saving the city, or the Earth, or reality as we know it.”
“Downtime? Perhaps when we have a window of relative calm. Possible, but unlikely.”
“We are a detective agency,” I said. “At no point are those words supposed to include ‘for the supernatural community’, ‘rampant creatures of destruction’, or ‘solving world-ending cases’.”
“And yet here we are,” Monty answered matter-of-factly. “It seems you attract these situations.”
“I…attract?” I asked. “This all started with Kali and her curse.”
“On a case you accepted.”
“Not my fault,” I said. “You know I had to take that case. There were kids involved.”
“I recall,” Monty said, “ but if you look for a common denominator, a thread that ties it all together…it would be you.”
It took all of five seconds for my brain to agree. I would need to re-evaluate what I was ‘attracting’ in my life. In the meantime, I needed to find out what was wrong.
“What do I need to do?” I asked. “About the runic melting, not my attracting chaos.”
“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin. “There is one test I can run, but it’s usually reserved for mages. I’ve never tried it on a non-mage.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“It’s a runic scan of sorts, used to determine power levels, except it’s an extra-planar process.”
“Extra-planar?” I asked, confused. “Can’t we do this at the Golden Circle? Isn’t that your mage batcave?”
“I don’t have a mage batcave.”
“What about with Erik at the Hellfire?”
“This test can’t be conducted on our plane. It deals with a volatile power that wou
ld react poorly with the ambient energy. It needs to be extra-planar.”
“I don’t recall hearing your answer…is it dangerous?”
“Considerably,” he said. “Though I don’t know how your cursed body will react. It could be fine, or you could be atomized. I wonder if you could return from that kind of trauma?”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Now you sound like Hades in his quest to test my immortality. Is there another option?”
“We could let whatever it is run its course. However, I think the end result would be detrimental, but fascinating.”
“Don’t try so hard to cheer me up, Spock.”
“There is much to be said for dispassionate logic in moments like this,” Monty answered, with a nod. “It allows for the clinical observation of facts without emotion clouding said observation.”
I stared at him.
“There’s also much to be said for the passionate losing of your shit when you are informed that overexposure to runic energy may be melting you,” I said, raising my voice. “It allows for the repeated pummeling of those who provide said clinical observations.”
I took several deep breaths and calmed myself.
“Duly noted,” Monty said. “I strongly suggest against trying to pummel me.”
“Let’s just do this test of yours,” I said. “What’s a little more pain and danger? I call that breakfast in my world.”
“There is one site,” Monty said. “Getting there may be a bit tricky, but It should be safer than the alternative.”
“Safer? For who?”
“For the general public,” Monty answered, still looking around. “If something goes awry, not that it will, but if it does, it could destroy most of the Moscow. I’d prefer not to revisit that scenario after the deep freeze with Cecelia. Olga would be displeased.”
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