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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  As far as I knew, he had no magical ability except that he was somehow like me—immune to the effects of magic. This pissed off Monty to no end. That alone made the torture sessions he called class worth it.

  The last lesson was still fresh in my mind.

  “When faced with an opponent larger, stronger, and more powerful than yourself, what do you do?” he asked me.

  “Run and hide and let Monty deal with it?” I said. “I mean—take cover until Monty can neutralize the threat.”

  “And if Tristan is down or hurt? What then?”

  “He never gets hurt and he doesn’t know how to get down—he’s English. In that case, I scoop up Monty and then run and hide?”

  No matter how fast I tried to move, his bamboo staff would catch me. The thwack reverberated across the dojo we trained in as I tried my best to stand still and revel in the sensation of sudden and instant pain.

  “Wrong,” he said. “You stay and fight.”

  “You just said the opponent was larger, stronger, and more powerful. How am I supposed to fight something like that?”

  “Each of those attributes can be turned to your advantage if you know how.”

  “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  Another whack with the staff.

  “No one likes a smartass. Practice the evasion drill again.”

  I used that same drill now.

  The ogre leaped up the ramp, a bundle of muscle and rage. Monty peeled off to the side, his hands glowing. One of the problems with being extra-large, like an ogre, is that fighting in a garage limits your mobility and headroom. It had to remain crouched as it closed on me. This removed its height advantage.

  It dived forward and swiped at me.

  I rolled to the side and buried the Ebonsoul in its side, slicing as I ran past. The scream threatened to deafen me as I jumped to the side and narrowly avoided a kick. Monty released two deep red orbs. They hit the ogre and sank into the floor.

  “Your magic is useless against me, sorcerer,” it said as it roared again. It ignored Monty and focused on me.

  Monty’s jaw flexed as he narrowed his eyes.

  “With ‘fairy’ he might’ve let you go with just some pain,” I said, shaking my head, “but then you had to go and call him a sorcerer. Bad move.”

  The ogre looked at me with a hint of confusion before attacking again. I fell on my back and under another swipe and kicked up with my feet, connecting with its head. It brought a fist down, and I managed to block with the Ebonsoul at the last second. I felt the air escape my lungs in a whoosh as it used its other hand to whack me down the ramp. I bounced for a few feet before coming to a stop.

  The ogre laughed as it stepped toward me. Monty stepped in front of me, his hands glowing red.

  “Out of my way, sorcerer. I’ll crush you after I’m done with him,” it said.

  “No, you’re done now,” Monty whispered.

  “Your magic can’t touch me.”

  “I don’t need it to,” Monty said and unleashed the orbs in his hands. “I only need a focus.”

  The orbs rushed at the ogre, who reflexively lifted his hands to cover his face. The asphalt under the ogre went from solid to semi-liquid, causing it to sink in place. It reminded me of a dinosaur falling into a tar pit.

  The orbs homed in on the Ebonsoul, which I had left buried in the ogre’s hand when I blocked his last attack. They hit the hilt with a crack and funneled down the blade and into the body of the ogre, who looked up at us with a mixture of rage, confusion, and fear.

  “What have you done?” it roared at us. “I’ll kill you, sorcerer!”

  “I am not a bloody sorcerer!” Monty yelled. “That was the last mistake you made.”

  The ogre placed its hands on either side of the asphalt pool and tried to climb out. Monty placed his hands together in the form of prayer and spread them forcefully.

  The magic inside the body of the ogre exploded outward, disintegrating everything from the waist up. Ogre chunks flew everywhere—many of them landing on me.

  “Would a warning have been too much?” I asked as I removed large pieces of ogre from my jacket.

  I walked over to retrieve the Ebonsoul, which was covered in ogre goo.

  “I was a little preoccupied with not getting crushed, eviscerated, and gnawed on,” he said. “I’d better call Roxanne to get this mess.”

  “I notice none of the ogre bits landed on you. How’d you manage that?”

  “Practice.” He gave me a smile as he pulled out his phone. “Let me put this on speaker while I secure the area. Ogre remains can be toxic.”

  “Now you tell me,” I muttered, removing more of the goo.

  He handed me the phone as he cast a spell over the area. The line rang three times before connecting, and I put it on speakerphone.

  “Hello,” Roxanne said. “Tristan?”

  “Roxanne,” Monty said, “we’re in the garage with ogre everywhere. I’m containing as much as I can, but you’ll need a clean-up crew down here.”

  Another voice came on the line.

  “You two defeated an ogre? I’m impressed. I should’ve sent two.”

  It was Chaos.

  Monty stopped moving and looked at the phone.

  “What do you want?” Monty said with barely contained rage.

  “What I’ve always wanted,” Chaos said with a laugh just this side of deranged. “The end of everything.”

  “The ogre was a diversion?” I said. “Are you kidding me?”

  “If you harm her…” Monty said as he formed his hands into fists, waves of heat coming off his body.

  “No, I need this sorceress alive. At least for now.”

  “You need to let her go—now,” Monty answered.

  “I can tell you’re upset, so I won’t take up too much of your time, Tristan. Try to understand, this isn’t personal.”

  “It is now,” Monty whispered. “Let her go and I promise to kill you quickly.”

  “Kill me?” Chaos said and laughed. “Strong, you might want to help your mage friend understand what he’s up against before he gets you both killed.”

  “I will find you and end you,” Monty said.

  “Not if I end you first,” Chaos said and hung up.

  EIGHTEEN

  WE FOUND THE nearest stairwell and ran up. I didn’t try to reason with Monty in his current state. Right now, I was just running damage control and hoped he didn’t blow the hospital to tiny little pieces.

  When we reached the tenth floor, we stopped in the stairwell.

  “Monty, there may be another ogre in there, for all we know,” I said. “It’s not like the last one was a cakewalk. Let’s get backup.”

  “He has Roxanne. You’re the only backup I need, Simon. Are you coming?”

  He grabbed the door handle and pulled. I drew Grim Whisper and aimed down the hallway, at least what used to be the hallway.

  “What the hell?” I said. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  Most of the hallway was gone. It looked like someone had taken a large chunk out of the building, then I realized it looked familiar.

  “Do you think he has a negation rune?” I asked as the words chilled me to the core. “Because this looks a lot like MoMA.”

  “If he does, we’re in the deepest shite conceivable,” Monty said, as he stepped around the rubble and stopped. “We need to go. She won’t be here.”

  The air around him was charged with energy. He stood rigid with anger as he took in the scene of destruction. I chose my next words carefully.

  “Fighting an angry ogre works up an appetite,” I said slowly. “Let’s swing by Polanco’s and then home so I can clean off the ogre bits from my clothes and you can change.”

  For several seconds he stood unimaginably still and looked at the hallway. I reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Monty, we will get her back, I swear,” I whispered, pulling him gently, “but we need to find out why he needs sorcerers. Le
t’s call Ramirez and find out what he took from the museum. It’s our best lead.”

  He nodded. “You grab some Polanco’s and then head to the office,” he said. “I need to prepare some countermeasures. If we are going up against a god, we need to be ready.”

  I couldn’t imagine what kind of countermeasures he would take to face a god. It was in moments like these that I was glad Monty was on my side.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Robert, then?”

  “No. I’ll take a cab. I need to get us a proper mode of transport.”

  I pulled out my phone and pressed the button for SuNaTran. They would send a car to my location.

  “I have a car coming. Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” I could drop you off.”

  “No, thank you. It will be night soon. You should head to the Moscow just in case Georgianna gets any more ‘visitors.’ I’m sure your vampire will be paying you a visit. Especially after today. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “And you will be…? In case I need to contact you?” I asked. I didn’t like the idea of him wandering the city in a simmering fury. It was the kind of thing that ended up on the news—Crater swallows several midtown buildings, cause unknown. Witnesses report an angry mage leaving the scene.

  “I’m going to Cecil’s to get us a vehicle. We can’t be dependent on SuNaTran if we need to be mobile.”

  “Fine,” I said. I would call Cecil and give him a heads-up about Monty’s state of mind. It was another way to keep an eye on him. “Whatever you do, don’t let Cecil try and give you any kind of Volkswagen. Especially not a bug. I’m particular to the color blue, however.”

  “Any other requests?” he said as he hailed a cab.

  “Yes, try not to incinerate the city on the way to Cecil’s. It would make things awkward.”

  “Duly noted,” he said and got in the cab. “See you in an hour.”

  “One hour,” I said and watched him take off.

  I let him go because I knew he needed to vent, and as close as we were, he preferred to do his venting alone. Also, I didn’t want an angry mage around jittery vampires, and he was right, I had a feeling Michiko would be paying me a visit tonight.

  I headed over to Polanco’s, which was about a block away from the Moscow. It served the best Dominican food on the planet. I picked up an order of their sautéed beef with white rice and beans. I ordered the Monty special, which the owner, Samuel, called ‘el Monte’—a salad so good I almost considered going vegan.

  I looked out the window and across the street and saw two men enter the meat market. They looked like the vamps I had fought at the blood bank.

  I grabbed my order and crossed the street. I popped into the Randy Rump, an old-style butcher shop. Behind the counter stood a large man with long gray hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore an apron over a T-shirt and jeans. His massive arms, which were easily the size of my legs, were covered with thick hair.

  “We’re about to close up,” he said as he put choice cuts of meat away in the freezer in the back. “What do you need?”

  The two men tried their best to look normal—which is always a giveaway, especially with hit— I mean, Resolution Teams. The black suits and glasses didn’t help, either.

  “They were here before me; I’ll wait,” I said to the butcher as I gestured at the two. I turned away from them but kept a bead on their location using the reflection in the display case in front of me.

  I let my hand rest on the hilt of the Ebonsoul, when a familiar scent wafted past my nose. I stepped to the door and looked up at the evening sky. A fat yellow moon began its ascent in the night sky, and I smiled.

  If my guess was right, these two were in for a world of pain. Occasionally, even after the formation of the Dark Council, vampires hunted other supernatural species. They considered themselves the apex predator and eliminated any perceived threats to their territory. The two suits were a Resolution Team, but not for Georgianna—they were here for the butcher. And they weren’t too bright.

  I had only smelled that odor— a mix between wet dog and musk—once in my life. I shuddered when I remembered the reason. Once was enough.

  One of the suits began a conversation with the butcher while the other walked around the shop and stood by the door, blocking my exit. Seems like I was going to be collateral damage.

  “How do you want to pay for this?” the butcher asked when he had finished filling the order. “Cash or charge?”

  I noticed he kept his hand on the cleaver as the suit approached the counter. The one by the door shifted over and locked it. The one at the cashier stepped back, reached into his jacket and pulled out an enormous hand-cannon.

  Looking closely, I saw it was a modified Desert Eagle .50 caliber. These vampires came prepared to take down a werewolf. The only problem was they weren’t facing a werewolf. A .50 caliber silver round would stop all except the largest werewolf. If the butcher was what I thought he was, a .50 caliber round would only piss him off, silver or not.

  The vampire at the door followed his lead and pulled out a similar weapon.

  “That’s some serious hardware,” I said. “You sure you need all that firepower for one butcher?”

  He ignored me and focused on the butcher. For a brief moment, I thought about the Grim Whisper, and a tinge of barrel-envy hit me. It’s not the size of the barrel, but the stopping power that matters, I told myself.

  “How about silver?” the vampire at the cashier said.

  “You must have me confused with someone else,” the butcher said with one hand up. The other rested lightly on the cleaver next to him. “I don’t want any trouble. Just take the money.”

  “We’re not here for money. We know what you are, dog.”

  The vampire at the cashier took a step forward to threaten the butcher with the gun, pushing it forward. It was a mistake.

  In the space of half a second, the cleaver flew up from the counter, sliced through the air and the vampire’s wrist in one motion. It liberated the hand holding the gun from its body as it sailed to the side. The butcher leaped over the counter in an incredible display of grace and power and landed on the screaming vampire’s chest, driving him into the floor. A heavy-booted kick knocked him out a second later.

  The vampire at the door took aim as I grabbed his arm from the side and locked the elbow while stripping the oversized gun from his hand. The butcher appeared a second later with a fist to the vampire’s head that sent him across the shop floor. He was unconscious by the time he slid next to his partner.

  I stood there with a large gun and a larger butcher looking down at me menacingly. I turned the gun around slowly and handed it to him butt-first. He took it and nodded.

  “Thanks,” he said as he ejected the magazine. He made his way to the other side of the shop, located the other gun, and did the same, making sure the chambers were empty as well.

  “Dissatisfied customers?” I asked, looking down at the vampires. “Looks like some people take their meat seriously.”

  “You have no idea,” he said and cracked a smile while he outstretched a hand. “James. Friends call me ‘Jimmy the Cleaver.’”

  His hand was easily twice the size of mine and I had no doubt he could pulverize the bones in my hand with a minimal show of force. I was glad he didn’t feel the need to show me how strong he was.

  “Simon—Simon Strong. I live a block away in the monstrosity over there,” I said and pointed at the Moscow.

  “The Moscow? Yeah that’s one ugly building, but the landlord seems nice, for an ice queen,” he said.

  “Jimmy the Cleaver—I can see why,” I said. “What’s a Werebear doing in the city? I thought you all stayed up north, away from the densely populated areas?”

  Jimmy gave me an appraising look. “Not bad. Most think we’re wolves, like these two rocket scientists here,” he said, briefly looking down. “I got tired of country life and came down for a change of pace. How’d you know?”

 
“I ran into a Werebear sleuth a few years back. The scent is, no offense, unmistakable,” I said. “It was led by a Were named Dov.”

  He nodded. “Dov is a good leader. Met him a few times before coming down here. He warned me this could happen.”

  “You could tell the Council. I’m pretty sure this is an unsanctioned attack.”

  “Dark Council knows I’m here, but I get a visit like this at least once a month,” he said. “Are you going to be okay? I liked your move back there. You may get some backlash from the Council.”

  “No worries, I’m already on their shit list. This isn’t going to make things any worse.”

  He reached into a pocket and pulled out his phone. “Gimme a sec,” he said. “I need to call this in.”

  I checked the vampires. They were still alive, but they had no ID on them. Hit teams usually ran dark. Wouldn’t make much sense to have their Resolution Team member cards on them, but I had to check just in case.

  “Yeah, I have two leeches here who wanted to give me a silver welcome,” Jimmy said into the phone. “Have them picked up before sunrise or I leave them outside for a tan.”

  He hung up the phone and picked up the vampires—one in each arm—and threw them into the freezer.

  “Would you really leave them outside to burn?”

  “Nah, but if I don’t say that they drag their feet and I’m stuck with frozen vampire for days,” he said. “This way they’ll pick them up tonight.”

  “Who picks them up?”

  “A Council extraction team, from the looks of it,” he said. “Very apologetic, of course.”

  “I have an acquaintance on the Council. I could ask her to make your shop neutral ground, if you want.”

  “What does that mean ‘neutral ground’?”

  “If she agrees, it means your shop can be a meeting place for mediations and accords,” I said, looking around. “You would have to clear out some space and put in some tables, but it would mean no more attacks on you or your shop.”

  “No more attacks, really?” he asked. “Just by adding tables?”