Blood Is Thicker A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 3)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Contents

  Title

  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

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Cast of Characters for Blood is Thicker

  ORGANIZATIONS

  AUTHOR NOTES

  Silver Clouds Dirty Sky

  Thank you for reading

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Blood Is Thicker

  By

  Orlando A. Sanchez

  A Montague & Strong Detective Agency Novel

  “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

  -Unknown

  ONE

  A BITING WIND cut across the water as we landed on North Brother Island. We stepped off the ferry and onto the slick, deserted dock. The dawn rain pelted my face until Monty gestured and formed a shield around us, stopping the cold droplets from landing.

  Peaches, fearing I might be too dry, shook the water off his body, drenching me, but somehow missing Monty.

  “Really? Thank you,” I groaned, shaking off the water. “It’s not like I was soaked or anything.”

 

  “You need to lay off the pastrami. Then you would have less surface area,” I said, looking down at him as we walked. He appeared to be a Cane Corso, but was really the offspring of Cerberus, minus the mythological two heads. He stepped close to me and kept pace, as we walked off the dock and onto a short boardwalk. The boards creaked under our weight as he padded by my side.

 

  “There’s no getting about it. You sound like you’re going to break through the boardwalk. Maybe Ezra has a low-fat pastrami option.”

 

  “I told you to stay home, but you wanted to come.” I ignored his nudge into my leg. “We’ll swing by Ezra’s on the way back—you can eat then.”

  He responded with a low rumble as we kept walking.

  “Are you talking to your creature again? You need to find a less overt method of communication.” Monty looked at me. “One that doesn’t make you appear as insane as you are.”

  “Everyone talks to their dogs,” I said, patting Peaches on the head. “It’s even therapeutic and healing.”

  “Everyone talks to their dogs not with, and that” —he glanced at Peaches—“barely qualifies as part of the dog species,” Monty said while peering farther inland. He narrowed his eyes, pointing with the small wooden box he was holding. “That way.”

  “I didn’t even know these islands existed,” I said, pulling my coat tighter against the elements. Monty seemed unaffected by the cold. “Are you sure he’s here? She could have lied. Dragons aren’t known for their honesty.”

  “We checked the South Island and his energy is in the vicinity. Check the device again.”

  The Hack, after recovering from nearly losing Manhattan to a black hole, had finally answered my calls. I assured him the city wasn’t going to disappear in some cataclysm, and he’d grudgingly provided me with his latest ‘magical tech.’

  He called it a runic filter. It looked like a smartphone, but thicker. According to the Hack, it was designed to detect spikes in magical energy and could distinguish between ambient and magical energy in any environment. When I pressed the screen, three blips showed up on the topographical map of the island.

  “Monty, I think we have a problem,” I said, and showed him the screen. “Which one of those is your brother?”

  “The dragon lied,” he said with a smile. He examined the filter closer. “This is actually good news.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” I handed him the filter. “Do you think she even saw your brother or was it all smoke? And, excuse me, ‘good news’?”

  He nodded and pushed some hair out of his face. “I don’t know the purpose of Slif’s deceit. What I do know is that these mages are quite powerful,” he said, closing his eyes. “They must have found a way to replicate William’s energy signature.”

  “And this is good news because…?” I said, confused. “Wait, how do you know they’re mages?”

  “It’s good news because there’s a possibility William is still alive. And I know what they are because I can sense them irrespective of this device” —he held up the runic filter—“and it seems we’re here to have a conversation.”

  “Shit, can we just go back the way we came and avoid this conversation?” I said, shaking my head. “They never end well, mostly because they’re heavy on the fireballs and light on the actual conversing.”

  “How did they mimic William’s energy signature?” he said, rubbing his chin and handing me back the filter. “They must possess something of his with a recent imprint. It’s the only way they could have recreated a signature so powerful.”

  We arrived at the only standing structure on the island. It was a hospital erected at the turn of the nineteenth century to deal with a smallpox outbreak—but now long abandoned. The building was partially intact, but trees and undergrowth had reclaimed most of the property. In front of the hospital, a circle roughly fifty feet in diameter had been cleared away. Covered in runes, it held a small pulsing orb in the center.

  “That looks recent,” I said, pointing at the circle before looking around into the trees. I pressed the runic filter again, but it came up blank. “Looks like they left. Maybe they got tired of waiting for you?”

  “Unlikely,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the area. “I still sense them. They must be close.”

  Three figures materialized inside the cleared circle. They wore black robes with deep hoods that covered their faces. Each of the robes was trimmed in gold brocade. A large golden circle was embroidered on the chest of each.

  Peaches dropped into a ‘pounce and maim’ posture and rumbled next to me. He lowered his head and spread his forepaws, the muscles of his back rippling with anticipation.

  “Golden Circle police?” I asked as I opened my jacket to give me easier access to my weapons. “The ‘dark and ominous’ thing works well for them.”

  “Envoys—messengers sent to escort rogue mages back to the Sanctuary,” Monty said, and shook out one hand. “Usually by force.”

  The Envoy in the center stepped forward and pushed back his hood. A look of recognition crossed Monty’s face. The Envoy appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He gave me a cursory glance and let his dark eyes settle on Monty, with a look of disappointment.

  “Friend of y
ours?” I asked, taking a step back and letting my hand rest on Grim Whisper. “I get the impression he doesn’t like what he sees.”

  “Gideon, I see you’ve been made an Envoy,” Monty said with a nod. “When I left, you were still an apprentice. How are you?”

  “Better than you,” Gideon answered and formed an orb of fire in his hand. The two Envoys next to him did the same.

  “Why do mages always default to fireballs?” I whispered under my breath, drawing Grim Whisper. “They don’t seem in the conversing mood, Monty.”

  Monty took a step forward. Gideon extended his other hand and formed a second fireball. “Don’t do this, Gideon,” Monty said, flexing his hands.

  “Mage Tristan Montague, by order of the Tribunal of the Golden Circle, you are hereby instructed to surrender yourself to the custody of the Envoys,” Gideon said, the orbs he’d formed floating lazily in front of him. “You will be returned to the Sanctuary to await judgment for the crime of casting a forbidden spell—a void vortex—in a populated area.”

  “And if I refuse?” Monty asked, keeping his eyes on Gideon, as he placed the small box he’d been carrying on the ground.

  “Then we are authorized to use deadly force to carry out our mandate,” Gideon whispered and moved into a defensive stance. “Don’t make me hurt you, Tristan.”

  TWO

  GIDEON DROPPED HIS hands and the orbs raced at Monty. I leaped to the side, expecting to see Monty next to me. I turned back and saw him standing where I’d left him.

  “Impending orbs of flame?” I said, getting to my feet some distance away. “Isn’t this the part where you jump out of the way?”

  “No. This is the part where I do this” —he extended a hand palm up in front of his body, caught both orbs, and merged them—“and return them to their owner,” he said with a slight grunt.

  The merged orb crashed into Gideon and knocked him to the other side of the circle. The other two Envoys absorbed their orbs and rushed to his aid. Gideon got to his feet, shrugging off the hands of the Envoys who assisted him.

  “He looks pissed, Monty,” I whispered, looking at the approaching Gideon. “I thought you told me it wasn’t wise to piss off a mage?”

  “I said it wasn’t wise for you to piss off a mage,” Monty replied with a look. “I do it often. Their arrogance makes them easy to prod.”

  Gideon stood at the edge of the circle and stared at Monty. He took a breath to compose himself. I could tell he had a few choice words he wanted to use, but to his credit, he kept himself in check. Maybe he knew it was a bad idea to piss off a mage like Monty.

  “You’ve shifted,” Gideon said after getting his breathing and temper under control. “We were not informed of this change.”

  “I just informed you,” Monty said matter-of-factly. “Go back to the Sanctuary before someone gets hurt, or worse.”

  “We weren’t informed, but I came prepared just in case,” Gideon said, reaching into his robe.

  “Gideon—?” Monty said before Gideon pulled out what could only be described as a micro Uzi.

  “What the hell?” I said as I pressed the main bead on the mala bracelet that Karma had given me. When I pressed the main bead, it usually created a large shield that protected me from damage. I say usually because it’s been known to malfunction at times—but this time it worked.

  I jumped in front of Monty and Peaches, grabbing Peaches’ by his neck as he growled, and made sure he didn’t jump into a hail of bullets. “Since when do mages use Uzis?”

  “The Envoys are trained to adapt and overcome.” Monty traced runes in the air as a hail of bullets pounded into the shield. “This is actually a sound strategy when facing a stronger opponent.”

  “I’m so glad you approve of his strategy.” I held the shield up and braced my arm with my free hand. It felt like a jackhammer on my forearm. “Can we apply a strategy of our own? One that stops the bullets from turning my arm to jelly would be good.”

  “I’ve been wondering about the shield-generation of the mala. If it’s kinetic, this should keep the shield up indefinitely. My theory is that it transforms kinetic energy—in this case the energy of the rounds—into the repulsive energy of the shield,” he said, releasing the runes into the air. “This will be a good test to see how long your shield lasts.”

  “Really, this? You consider this a good test?” I said, aware of the bullets trying to turn us into Swiss cheese. “You think we could try a less lethal method of testing?”

  The bullets stopped. I peered over the shield to see Gideon getting another magazine. Monty gestured with his hand, and the other two Envoys were suddenly yanked from the circle. They were slammed into a nearby wall with incredible force and then they crumpled to the ground. Monty stepped forward with another gesture, and the Uzi fell to pieces in Gideon’s hands. It reminded me of my recently disintegrated, tailor-made Armani suit jacket he’d decided to test that spell on.

  “You unbound it?” Gideon said as he dropped the pieces of the Uzi and pulled out a blade. His voice was laced with fear and awe. “Have you gone dark, Tristan?”

  “Bollocks! What’s this bloody obsession with my going dark?” Monty said as he closed on Gideon. “You only ask because you’ve never met a dark mage. If I were a dark mage, you and your team would be bloody smears inside this circle.”

  Gideon lunged forward, and Monty jumped back.

  “I think it’s a fair question, considering the void vortices you unleashed inside a city,” Gideon said, slashing horizontally. “You cast a spell that could’ve killed everyone—a forbidden spell.”

  “There were…extenuating circumstances,” Monty said, stepping inside the arc of the slash, grabbing Gideon’s wrist, and twisting, stripping him of the weapon and slamming him into the ground. “A dragon was trying to cook us.”

  “Be that as it may,” Gideon said in between gasps as he lay on his back, “the law is clear.”

  “This is why I left the Sanctuary,” Monty said, holding the blade to Gideon’s throat. “Go back and tell them to leave me alone. I shut down the vortex and the city wasn’t destroyed. How did you find me, anyway?”

  Gideon scoffed. “Find you? We never lost you. The Elders allowed you to think you were on your own. You’re an Ordaurum—they will never leave you alone.”

  “How did you get William’s signature? Where is he?”

  “Only the Elders know that.” Gideon squirmed away from the blade pressing into his neck and drawing blood. “I was given that”—he pointed at the center of the circle—“and told to bring you home.”

  Monty stood up and moved to the center of the circle. He took the small orb and put it in a pocket. “You go back and tell them I’m already home,” Monty whispered with quiet menace as he stepped out of the circle. “If I see you again, I won’t be so pleasant.”

  The other two Envoys stumbled back to Gideon’s side. That’s when I recognized it. They were standing in a large teleportation circle. Gideon stood up, rubbing his neck where Monty had held the blade to it.

  “You may have defeated me, but they will send an Arbiter. I will inform them of your shifted status. You won’t defeat the Arbiter,” Gideon said and touched the center of the circle. A moment later, it flared a blinding white light and they disappeared. Monty waved a hand at the circle and the concrete crumbled, destroying it.

  Monty fell to one knee and gasped for breath. I stepped over to him and he waved me off as he got unsteadily to his feet.

  “You okay?” I asked, concerned, and extended a hand, which he took. “You’re looking a little paler than usual.”

  “I’m not accustomed to the cost of using elevated magic. I need to eat, meditate, and get some rest.” Monty walked back to the box he had placed on the ground. “Let’s do this and get back.”

  I nodded. “Can you stop an Arbiter?” I asked, stepping back and out of the way as he traced a rune over the ground. “How powerful are they?”

  “I don’t know,” he said after
a pause. “Arbiters are to mages what MPs are to the military. They police the mages, which means they are the most powerful among us. When sent on a recovery, they are judge, jury, and executioner.”

  “Maybe the Elders will just forget about you?” I looked down as the box holding the runed platinum and Davros’ essence sank into the ground and disappeared.

  “No. Gideon was right. They will never leave an Ordaurum alone. I’m too important to them. They will send an Arbiter. If I don’t return, he will try to destroy me.”

  “That’s some retirement plan.” I looked out over the water to the incoming ferry. “If the Elders know where your brother is, then it may be—”

  “It may be time to visit the Sanctuary,” Monty said.

  “Isn’t that what they want, though? Except maybe with you in restraints?”

  “Exactly.” He pushed some hair out of his face. “I’ll go back on my terms, not theirs. We need to go see Erik for that.”

  “The Hellfire Club?” I gave a short cough to clear my throat. “Erik doesn’t exactly want to see me these days.”

  “What did you do?” Monty said slowly as he turned to look at me. “Is the club still intact?”

  “Excuse me? You’re the one who does magical demolitions, and it isn’t even my fault—Quan walked through the place and set off all his defenses because she was pissed at you.”

  “He must have been livid,” Monty said with a small smile as he rubbed his chin. “Did he ban you?”

  “More or less. He told me not to come back unless invited,” I replied. “But I’m sure you could convince him.”

  “We’ll give him a day. Right now, I need to get home. Let’s do Roselli’s tonight. I’m famished.” We stepped on the ferry and floated away from the island.

  “Do you think he’ll let me bring Peaches again after last time?” I asked, rubbing Peaches’ head. “I’m sure he could behave.”

 

  “After his last visit and the disaster that ensued?” Monty said, shuddering as he looked down at Peaches, who did his best to look unassuming and gentle but failed epically as he bared his teeth. Monty shook his head. “I’ve seen worse at Roselli’s. I’ll make the reservation.”