Tombyards & Butterflies: A Montague and Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 1)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I can see where this can come in handy. Especially on the subway in the morning,” I said, holding up my wrist and looking at the mala.

  “Did she say she couldn’t sense Charon, or that he felt hidden?”

  “She said she couldn’t feel his presence and then pointed me to Hades.”

  “Really,” he said, rubbing his chin.

  “Remember him? Big, powerful, scary god? Likes dead things?”

  “She’s right. It makes the most sense to see him first. I wonder if any of the other psychopomps have gone missing.”

  “The psycho—what?”

  The car came to a stop and the doors opened before Monty could answer. Robert lowered the partition.

  “Will you need me to wait, sirs?”

  “No, thank you, Robert. Please pass on my thanks to Cecil when you return,” Monty said as we stepped out of the Phantom.

  Robert tipped his cap and raised the partition. He drove away as we entered 520 1st Avenue, which was also the OCME, or Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. I just knew it as the morgue. I noticed the unmarked NYTF car across the street as we approached the building.

  “Ramirez must be sitting on something serious if he’s dragging us down here before noon,” I said, looking at my watch.

  “I thought three squad cars was suspect,” Monty said as we headed past the outer vestibule.

  “Three? I only saw one.”

  “Two more around the corner,” he said, pointing. “Trying and failing to be subtle.”

  I looked through the glass and saw the unmarked squad NYTF cruisers sitting halfway down the block.

  Monty opened the door and we entered the oblong-shaped building. I pressed the call button for the elevator and looked around. The NYTF officer standing in the lobby was doing his best to blend in, but I found his location a little strange.

  We entered the elevator and headed down to the third sub-basement reserved for supernatural deaths. When the doors opened, two more NYTF officers standing guard by the elevator greeted us. We flashed our credentials, courtesy of Ramirez, and walked down to the autopsy room.

  The smell of chemicals permeated the space and I had to hold my breath for a few seconds as I adjusted. Fluorescent lights kept the room brightly illuminated. Three stainless steel tables dominated the center of the room. Scales hung at the head of each, reminding me of the old hanging meat scales used in butcher shops. Next to each of the autopsy tables sat trays with silver instruments. On the far wall, a sink ran the length of the room.

  A body lay on the center table. It was strapped down and held in place with runic restraints, which were similar to the silver cuffs we used on the werewolf, only stronger. Ramirez stood against the far wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Two more NYTF officers were on the other side of the room with their hands resting on their holsters. They looked twitchy, which made me nervous.

  Allen, the Medical Examiner, stood over the body on the table. He wore light blue scrubs and a white T-shirt. His gray hair was loose and peeked out from under his cap. His glasses were thick enough to make his eyes look larger than they were, reminding me of Marty Feldman. He was somewhere between a mad scientist and Dr. Frankenstein, but he was the best coroner in the city, and a friend.

  “Simon, Tristan, your timing is perfect,” Allen said, moving quickly around the table. “Please stand over there next to Officer Ramirez, and don’t move.”

  “What was so urgent you needed us here at this hour? This couldn’t wait until tonight?” I asked, irritated. The morgue and cemeteries were high on my ‘things to avoid’ list.

  “Watch,” Ramirez said, gesturing to the table and looking a little green.

  I looked at Monty and saw him flex his jaw. His hands were formed into fists and I could feel the tension coming off him.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, but he ignored me. I followed where he was looking and saw him staring at the body.

  “That rune,” he said to Allen, his voice steel, “where did you get it?”

  “Easy, Tristan,” Ramirez said. “He got it from us.”

  The two officers in the back shifted their focus slightly to include Monty, and I didn’t like it. They were acting spooked and that usually resulted in someone shooting first and asking questions second. I stepped into what would be their line of fire if they aimed at Monty and looked closely at the disc Allen was handling. It was about the size of a small plate, and golden. Inscribed on both sides, I could make out a few symbols but couldn’t decipher its meaning.

  Allen had it resting on the corpse’s chest. Next to the body sat a small container covered in runes. The outside of the container held more runes I didn’t understand.

  “I’ve never seen those symbols. What does it do?” I whispered to Monty.

  “It’s a rune of negation. They were created to combat mages, sorcerers, and wizards.”

  “How does it do that?”

  “Proximity to that rune will suppress any magic in the area around it,” he said, stepping closer to the table. “It creates a magic dead zone. If the rune is activated, it will negate everything in a five-hundred-foot radius.”

  “What do you mean activated? Wait—negate everything?”

  He nodded. “Including us,” he said and flexed his fingers.

  “Does that mean that your magic is—?” I started.

  “It was created by the Golden Circle. All the negation runes were, during the last war.”

  “Isn’t that your—?”

  He cut me off with a look. “Which is why I still possess my powers around it.”

  I could see a light covering of sweat forming on his brow.

  “Is that all it does? Shut off magic?”

  “And undo everything around it if active—yes, that’s all,” he said and gave me another look.

  “So this one isn’t active?” I asked, looking at it warily.

  “If it were, we would be standing in a dead space devoid of anything,” he said. “Right now it’s exhibiting its dormant nature.”

  “This is the equivalent of a magical nuke,” I said, taking a step back from the table. “It seems like overkill.”

  “Under the right circumstances, placing that rune on a person with an affinity to magic would kill them instantly. Those things are supposed to be kept in their containers in a sealed vault,” Monty said, looking at Ramirez.

  “Why not destroy it? It sounds more dangerous than helpful,” I said.

  “Because of situations like this,” Ramirez whispered. “Now, watch.”

  Allen stepped on a pedal and began speaking into a microphone suspended from a chain attached to the ceiling.

  “Subject is Brian Matthews, male, Caucasian, approximately twenty-five years old. No visible contusions or lacerations. Cause of death appears to be GSW to the neck causing hemorrhage from right carotid artery.”

  “Who shot him?” I asked Ramirez.

  He looked over at the officers on the other side of the room and pointed with his chin.

  “They were on patrol last night when this guy incinerates some vic on the spot,” he said. “Said his eyes were all over the place and it looked like he was on something. Then he killed one officer and critically injured another.”

  “He’s a mage? I thought mages didn’t go around barbecuing people. Isn’t he kind of young to have that much power?”

  “He’s a sorcerer,” Monty answered and shifted his weight while he unbuttoned his jacket. “They tap into a different, darker, source of power. Mages don’t go around incinerating people—without provocation. Probably an enforcer. Low level, from the look of it.”

  “He looks Dark Council to me,” I said. “But why use a sorcerer? They usually use vampires on the hit squad.”

  “‘Resolution Teams,’” Monty corrected.

  “Sure, whatever,” I said. “Never heard of them using magic-users to ‘resolve’ a situation—unless the target was—?”

  “A magic-user,” Monty fin
ished as he flexed his fingers.

  “Please pay attention,” Allen said to us and then turned back to the microphone. “Removing negation rune procured from the NYTF from subject’s chest.”

  Allen picked up the rune from sorcerer’s chest and placed it in the container. The body on the table convulsed and his eyes shot open.

  The two officers drew their guns and cursed.

  “Stand down!” yelled Ramirez. “Both of you, outside—now.”

  They complied and left the room as they holstered their weapons. Monty’s hands were covered in black energy but he remained where he stood, looking at what used to be a corpse. I pulled my coat to one side to give me access to the Ebonsoul. Ramirez had pulled his gun and held it at his side.

  “Allen, explain what’s going on here,” I said, because now I felt as twitchy as the officers looked. “He was dead a second ago and now he’s not.”

  “Actually he was in a type of stasis,” Allen answered while adjusting his glasses. “The negation rune only stopped him while it was in contact with his body. Once removed, well, you can see for yourself—he doesn’t appear to stay dead. Just like someone I know.”

  “Not funny, Allen,” I said and jumped back when Brian tried to get up.

  “Where the hell am I?” Brian asked from the table. “Who are you?”

  He tugged on the runic restraints. They gave off a dull orange glow but kept him strapped down.

  “You’re in the morgue,” I said and eyed the restraints. “What do you remember?”

  “The morgue?” He was clearly confused and he shook his head. “I had to fulfill an obligation for the Council and I caught up to my target near Central Park. I thought I managed to surprise him before he could hit me with anything, but he was too fast.”

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  “He cast a spell, something that hit me like a bucket of ice,” he replied, and shuddering. “So I fried him where he stood. That’s all I remember, until now.”

  “Let me fill in the gaps for you,” Ramirez said, pulling out a pad. “You were approached by four NYTF officers, two who were patrolling the park at the time.”

  “I don’t remember any officers around,” Brian said. “It was just me and the target.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell?” Ramirez said. “They asked you to stand down and you replied with a” —he looked at his notes—“‘black glob of goo’ that killed one of the officers.”

  “Where did you learn an entropy spell?” Monty said, each word a veiled threat. “That’s way beyond your skill level.”

  “That’s a lie,” Brian said, and tugged against the restraints again. “Why would I attack NYTF?”

  “Murdering a target with magic comes to mind,” Ramirez answered. “At best you were looking at a cell. At worst, erasure of all abilities and death. Might make someone do something desperate.”

  “I didn’t attack any officers!” Brian yelled. “I don’t even know what an entropy spell is.”

  Ramirez nodded and reached for the laptop that was on the table to the right.

  “In light of your present undead state, I thought you might say that, so we managed to download the bodycam footage,” he said. “Tell me if anyone looks familiar.”

  Ramirez pressed a few buttons on the laptop and the screen came to life. An image of one of the lower entrances of the park came into view. Brian stood in the middle of two officers. The camera jerked rapidly for about two seconds, then a moment later one of the officers began screaming as he was covered in what looked like black pudding. The other officer jumped back and fired several times.

  One of the bullets hit Brian in the neck and he hit the ground. Another officer silvered him as he bled out. Placing the restraints on Brian probably saved their lives since not more than ten seconds later Brian was up again and attacked the closest officer. Without magic, he was only able to use his fists. They subdued him and put him in the back of one of the cruisers.

  “Recognize anyone?” Ramirez asked as he pointed to the computer screen. “See anyone you know?”

  Brian shook his head and then his eyes went white. He pulled on the restraints, ripping them apart. His hands were covered in a black gelatinous substance. Allen fumbled to get the rune out of its container. He managed to pull it partway out as Brian flung some of the black goop at him. The gelatin landed on his arm and burned its way down to the bone as he screamed and fell back. He dropped the container and it slid under the table.

  “Fools!” Brian said, only it wasn’t Brian’s voice but something deeper, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “You can’t stop me. My time is coming. Your end is near.”

  The officers from outside were rushing in with guns drawn as I pulled the Ebonsoul out of its sheath. We were all too slow—except Monty. He hit Brian with two orbs of darkness that dissolved him into nothingness. The orbs even ate away part of the table he sat on.

  “What the fuck!” one of the officers said. “What the hell was that thing?”

  I checked his badge; it said “Thomas.” He seemed to be the most skittish of the group so I let Monty deal with him. I stepped over to Ramirez, who was holstering his weapon. His jaw flexed as he looked at what remained of the table. One of the forensic assistants came in and tended to Allen, cleaning the wound and bandaging his arm.

  “Tell me you can explain this, Simon, because in all my years in the NYTF I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, and wiped his face. “And I have seen some bizarre piss-in-your-pants shit.”

  His hands shook to match the trembling in his voice.

  “Ramirez, I don’t know what I just saw, but we both know there’s more out there than we can explain. Let me look into it and see what I can find out.”

  “You’d better move on this quick,” he said as he grabbed my arm. “I’ve got brass telling me to open the vaults—just in case.”

  “That’s not good. Those vaults need to stay closed.”

  “Not if dead sorcerers are running around the city,” he said. “I don’t need to tell you what happens if this gets out to the public.”

  “That sorcerer was enthralled,” Monty said calmly as he came over after speaking with the officer. “It takes considerable power to enthrall a corpse, much less one possessed of magic.”

  “What the hell did you hit him with?” Ramirez whispered. “Those things ate right through him.”

  “A disintegration spell,” Monty replied and buttoned his jacket. “You have to keep these occurrences away from the public.”

  “People are smart, but mobs are stupid. It’ll start a panic,” I said as I rested my hand on the Ebonsoul.

  “A panic that will lead to war,” Ramirez said, his voice grim. “We won’t survive a second supernatural war. We can’t let that happen.”

  He bent down and grabbed the container with the rune inside. He made sure it was secure, and he left the room.

  “This is just the beginning,” Monty said, looking at the destroyed table that had held the sorcerer. “It’s going to get worse.”

  It was time to see Hades.

  TEN

  THE OFFICES OF Terra Sur Global Mining occupied the top ten floors of One New York Plaza, an office building located downtown on Water Street. We grabbed a cab and looped around the bottom of the island. Monty stopped me when we got out of the cab.

  “Are you certain he’s here?” he asked, looking up at the building. “Let me do the speaking. It’s not like you two are cordial.”

  “I did some digging around. Terra Sur Global is owned by several shell companies, but they all point back to the Pluto Conglomerate, which is owned by him and has their main office—here.”

  I followed Monty’s gaze up the building, and a feeling of dread grabbed my stomach and started river dancing. He gave me a sidelong glance.

  “It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?” he said, looking around. “I mean why would he have an office here of all places?”

  “I had to call in a few favor
s from The Hack, just to get this much. This place doesn’t even officially exist.”

  “You mean that insufferable little snot?” Monty said with a look of disgust. “I don’t know why you entertain that child and his rants. What kind of name is ‘The Hack’?”

  “That child happens to be one of the most dangerous cybercriminals I’ve ever encountered. Every three-letter agency on the planet fears and admires him.”

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked, a look of genuine concern on his face. “Hades isn’t someone to trifle with and his power puts him in an entirely different league from what we’re used to dealing with.”

  “No, I don’t want to do this, but I have to,” I said. “Besides, we need to find Charon and Hades is our best chance.”

  We entered the lobby and were stopped by security next to the massive wooden reception desk, designed to make you feel puny. We placed our credentials on the desk and told the receptionist we needed access to the tenth floor. She looked at us over her glasses from behind the redwood posing as a desk as she made a call. With her sky-blue eyes and almost white blond hair, she could have easily been Olga’s sister and probably came from the same region.

  “Russian?” I said, using my most debonair voice.

  Monty groaned beside me and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  She gave me a withering look, punched some keys, and looked down at a monitor embedded beneath the surface of the desk. Apparently she was immune to my wiles.

  “No one is allowed upstairs without an appointment,” she said, looking at Monty. “Do you have one?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception,” I said, leaning into her field of vision. “I’m a huge fan.”

  Monty nudged me gently in the side with an elbow and almost cracked a rib.

  “Tristan Montague, Esquire,” Monty said, introducing himself with an extended hand that she shook. “Please inform your employer that it’s of the utmost importance that we speak with him.”

  “One moment,” she said with a brief smile as we stepped several paces away from the desk. She pressed some more keys and picked up the phone next to her.

  “Esquire? Since when? Are you some kind of English noble?” I whispered.