Montague & Strong Detective Novels Box Set: Montague & Strong Detective Novels Books, 1 through 3 (Montague & Strong Case Files)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  It was before seven in the morning and the place was packed with patrons. This table was only ever occupied by the old man I knew as Ezra—except this time, he had a guest. Dressed in black, she sat opposite him with her back to me as I approached. She turned to glance my way with an expression of mild curiosity. Her pale face gave off a subtle glow. Well, half of it did. The other half was blue-black. She resembled the Valkyries I had met in Hades’ building.

  The little voice in my head pulled out a megaphone and promptly told me to turn around and run away. At another table directly across from them sat what I recognized as a Valkyrie and another large man. I looked around the deli and realized there were Valkyries seated in every corner of the place.

  I pulled out a chair and greeted them both before I sat. I gave Ezra a short nod, which he returned. “Good morning, Ezra,” I said and then gave the woman a short bow. If she was sitting with Ezra, there was a good chance she was important, or lethal. Probably both. Monty would want me to show some manners before pissing her off.

  Ezra was dressed in his regular white shirt with black pants and a black vest. His rune-covered yarmulke gave off a faint violet glow, and he was poring over a thick book as usual. He closed it as I sat.

  “This is Hel,” he said with a gesture to the woman. “She won’t be staying long.”

  She gave a brief nod at the mention of her name, and the blood flowed away from my face and rushed to my feet. “A pleasure,” she said while staring at me with colorless eyes.

  “Seems she has some work to see to.”He gave her a look I couldn’t decipher.

  She gave me the onceover. “So this is Kali’s chosen? Somehow I thought he would be more—robust.”

  “I only do ‘robust’ on the weekends. The rest of the week I do lean and mean.” My heart did its best Savion Glover interpretation and tried to tap dance out of my chest. If I remembered correctly, Hel was the Norse equivalent to Hades, only with a mean streak and pain.

  She gave me a long, hard stare, and then burst out laughing.

  “I like him. I can see what Hades sees in him,” she said as she looked down at Peaches. She held out a hand, but he didn’t approach her. She smiled and nodded. “Your bond is strong. He reminds me of my brother, Fenrir, only smaller.”

 

  I put on my best poker face and didn’t answer him. Her ‘brother’ was a monstrous wolf that went around chomping on gods. I didn’t feel the need to point this out to her. I was getting a strong lethal-vibe from her, so I opted for tact. Monty would’ve been proud.

  “Thank you for the comparison, Lady Hel. Peaches is a good dog,” I said, rubbing his ears. “Fearsome in battle and in the devouring of pastrami.”

  “Peaches?” she said with a chuckle and looked at Ezra. He nodded, and she laughed again before growing serious. “Sadly, I can’t stay. I have pressing matters to attend to. Your presence here means I no longer have to send Cathain after you.”

  “After me? Why would you send anyone after me?” I wondered how far I could get before one of the Valkyries stomped me.

  Hel smiled at me. It was a killer’s smile. The one you got right before your life was ripped apart, and your broken, lifeless body is lying shattered on the ground. Also the half-blue glowing face was making it hard to think friendly thoughts.

  “Hades petitioned me to deliver this token to you. He must hold you in high esteem.”

  She motioned with her hand, and the man sitting with the Valkyrie came to our table. He was easily six-and-a-half feet tall and built like a house. When you thought ‘Viking’ this was the image that came to mind.

  “Thank you, Lady, but no token is necessary—” I started, but shut up immediately when she raised a hand.

  “This is Cathain Grobjorn, brewer of the Odinforce,” she said interrupting me. The way she said his name, it sounded like Kane Groban, with a bunch of r’s sprinkled in for good measure. “He has something for you. You have tasted his brew once before and survived. Cathain, the flask.”

  Cathain put a hand over his chest and bowed. “Yes, Mistress,” he said. He pulled out a silver flask covered in glowing skulls and handed it to me. I held it out away from me and unscrewed the cap. I brought it to my nose, took a sip, and nearly lost my mind—it was coffee. Not just coffee, but the coffee. I had smelled this caffeinated ambrosia in Hades’s office. It was in the vial Corbel had given me on Roosevelt Island. This was super coffee on steroids.

  “It’s the coffee?” I was incredulous. “How can this be coffee? And it’s hot?”

  “No mortal can drink of this brew without facing a painful and sudden death,” she said, looking at me and standing. All of the Valkyries situated around the deli stood simultaneously. “This is the Odinforce, drink of the Valkyries and the fallen of Valhalla. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t, but I nodded my head, still in shock. She had just given me a flask full of Valhalla Java. “I understand,” I whispered, holding the flask with reverence. The skulls on the surface coruscated with blue energy. “But this gift is too precious.”

  “The flask refills every evening,” Cathain said, touching my shoulder. “Do not drink more than a spoonful at any given time.”

  “What happens if I drink more?” I asked, because it was going to be tough to only drink a spoonful of coffee this good.

  “Honestly, with you I don’t know,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Increased strength, vitality, alertness, spontaneous combustion—why don’t you try it and let me know? In any case, keep it safe. This is no light thing she has given you.”

  Gods and their jokes. Twisted didn’t begin to describe their sense of humor.

  Hel turned to Ezra. “I will speak to the All-Father, but he will not be pleased.”

  “What do I care for his pleasure?” Ezra said and waved his hand. “His pleasure or lack of it is of no consequence to me. He must act. Remind him that even he will meet with me one day.”

  “Very well,” she said with a nod, and disappeared along with Cathain and all the Valkyries in the deli. If anyone noticed, they gave no indication. Business continued as usual. If I weren’t holding the flask in my hand, I would’ve thought I’d imagined the whole thing.

  “Ezra, what the hell? Why did she—?”

  He waved my question away. “Eh eh shush, you have more important things to be worried about than her. Put that away. You eat first, and then we talk. No good conversation ever came from an empty stomach. What are you eating?”

  “I was thinking some eggs—scrambled, maybe some toast, with some fries, and beef sausage. Peaches will have the usual.” I settled into the chair and put the flask in a pocket.

  He signaled to one of the waiters, who came over immediately. “Pastrami and eggs for him”—he pointed at me—“and ten pounds of pastrami for the puppy, in his special bowl.”

  I didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t an argument I could win. When Death orders your breakfast, you eat it.

 

  “He also happens to be death, as in Death—capital D,” I whispered to Peaches. “Make sure you eat all of your pastrami. Don’t leave any behind.”

  Peaches gave me a look and cocked his head to one side.

 

  I was about to answer, when a waiter came out with a large titanium bowl full of steaming pastrami, and put it on the floor in front of Peaches. He smelled the bowl and proceeded to devour the meat. A few minutes later, my plate arrived and I followed Peaches’ example.

  “You’re talking to your puppy?” Ezra asked with a knowing smile. “You can hear him now—good.”

  “How did you…? Never mind,” I said and kept eating.

  “Finish your food.” He looked down and petted Peaches on the head. No one ever touched Peaches while he ate, it was a good way to lose an arm.
“The puppy has the right idea.”

  “We can’t stay long, Ezra. Monty is—”

  “How is Tristan?”

  I swallowed the last bite of my breakfast and then spoke quickly. “Not good. He’s in Haven. A Negomancer hit him with an erasure spell, and unless I get help from another mage, he’ll lose his ability to cast magic

  “This spell he’s dealing with—it’s not an erasure,” he said, tapping the side of his nose and pointing at me. “He’s mistaken. Trust me, my nose knows.”

  “But he said—” I started, but fell silent under his quiet gaze. Ezra had a way of making you rethink your words without saying any.

  Ezra looked at me and slowly shook his head. “This Negomancer has underestimated your friend. It was supposed to be an erasure, but Tristan is too strong.”

  “What is it, then? The orb Roxanne showed me—she told me the spell would take away his ability to cast.”

  “She is mistaken, as is your friend. Sometimes the best action is inaction.”

  I sighed. “You sound like Master Yat with this fortune-cookie-speak. Can you just say what you want to say plainly?”

  He patted my hand and slapped my cheek—hard. “I just did, but you aren’t paying attention. Tristan will need a focus to work through this. When you see the mage, tell her you need a focus of three woods. She will understand.”

  “Of course she will because that is totally clear,” I said, exasperated. I could hear the frustration in my voice but kept it in check, remembering whom I was speaking with. Being immortal was not an excuse to piss off Death.

  “It will be to her. You’re worried, this I understand. Family is important.” He stood slowly with a groan. “Some days these old bones make it hard to get around. Simon, you will have to do some difficult things in the next few days. Remember what’s important and you will see this through.”

  He shuffled to the back of the deli with a wave, and disappeared.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I JUMPED INTO the Goat, opened the window for Peaches in the back, and raced downtown. I understood half of what Ezra told me. What stayed with me was the message I was supposed to give Quan. Monty needs a focus of three woods. I turned the words over in my head, and they still made no sense. I pulled up to the City Hall and parked the car. Our NYTF registration made sure it was never towed. With Monty’s runes, whoever tried would probably regret it.

  In front of the stairs leading into the government building stood Cassandra. From her expression, I could tell she wasn’t happy about escorting me. She placed a hand on her holster when she saw Peaches bound up next to me.

 

  “No biting the lieutenant,” I said under my breath as we approached. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Did Ramirez explain what we’re going to do?”

  She took a step back, keeping her distance from Peaches.

  “Strong,” she said with a quick nod. “He said I’m just here to get you into this ‘Hellfire Club.’ Strictly meet and greet. You need to speak to someone. I get you inside to speak to them.”

  I nodded. “It’s going to be a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it.” I turned to walk to the rear of the large building. She followed me with a surprised look on her face.

  “I thought you were going to City Hall?” she said, pointing to the building. “The station is downstairs.”

  “You’re talking about the train station. We don’t need a train. We need a mage. We need to go lower. Under the current station.” We made our way to the black kiosk obscured by trees, which stood about one hundred feet behind the building.

  In front of the kiosk stood a woman dressed in a skintight, black-and-white checkered costume. Her face was hidden behind a black mask. The mask was a combination of tragedy and comedy. She bowed with a flourish and twirled the pair of rune-covered tonfas she held when I approached. This was one of the Harlequin—protectors of the Hellfire.

  She stood to one side of the large, rune-inscribed circle that rested at the top of the stairs. In order to get into the Hellfire you needed to step in that circle—no exceptions.

  “I need to see him,” I said as I stood at the edge of the circle. “Is he in?”

  The Harlequin twirled one of her tonfas and pointed at the circle.

  “Is there a circus in town I don’t know about?” Cassandra asked as she looked at the Harlequin. “What is she pointing at?”

  I had grown so used to seeing runes and magic that I had forgotten it was invisible to most humans. Still, as part of the NYTF, I expected her to have some sensitivity to magic.

  “They need to come too. She’s NYTF and he’s with me.” I pointed at Cassandra. “Show her your badge, but do it slowly.”

  Cassandra reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled out her badge, showing it to the Harlequin, who nodded and gestured to the teleportation circle. I stepped forward and motioned for Cassandra to stand next to me. Peaches padded over to my other side and I nodded.

  The Harlequin slammed both tonfas into the ground, and the circle we stood in flared to life. A second later, we stood at the foot of a flight of stairs that led to a large brass door.

  The arch above us read “City Hall” in white tiled letters. The area was brightly lit, with each light fixture holding three lamps. The station was an art deco masterpiece and one of the hidden gems of New York.

  Directly above us, embedded into the ceiling, was a large blue circular skylight. On its surface, runes danced and changed shapes. At the foot of the stairs stood two Harlequins, with another matching pair beside the brass door and entrance to the club.

  The next second, the nausea hit me, and my breakfast threatened to claw out of my stomach. I hated teleportation. It always had the effect of twisting my insides out. Peaches looked unbothered, but Cassandra was a little green as she leaned against the wall.

  “What the hell was that?” she said, clutching her stomach. “Oh, my God, I feel sick.”

  “Give it a few seconds, it’ll pass,” I felt queasy myself and didn’t dare to take the stairs yet. “It’s an effect of the spatial displacement.”

  She shook her head and stepped away from the wall. “The what?”

  “The teleportation messes with your insides, which is why you feel like someone tied your intestines into a knot. Takes getting used to.”

  “I don’t ever want to get used to that. Is that it?” She pointed at the brass door, and I nodded. When I felt like my breakfast was safe and secure in my stomach, I took the steps slowly.

  “Whatever you see in there, don’t say—or more importantly, don’t do—anything,” I warned when we got to the door. “No one is in danger, and everything that’s occurring is consensual.”

  “I wasn’t raised on the moon, Strong,” she said adjusting her holster. “There isn’t much that can shock me at this age.”

  “Just remember what I said and don’t overreact.”

  I bowed to the Harlequins at the door. They returned the bow and stood at attention. These women weren’t window-dressing. According to Monty, the man I came to see handpicked and trained each one. The Harlequins were accomplished mages and could wield their runed tonfas with deadly efficiency. In other words, if you followed the rules, you left Hellfire alive; if you broke them, you didn’t.

  “I need to see him,” I said at the door and then waited. If the symbol that appeared on the door was black, it meant we were denied. No questions asked, no excuses taken, no exceptions. If it was white, we were past the first of three gates.

  “What are we waiting for?” Cassandra asked under her breath. “Do you have to make an appointment?”

  The symbol on the door flared white, and the door slid away. I exhaled in relief. My “plan B” involved Monty-levels of destruction. We walked down a long, narrow, featureless hallway. At the end of it stood a woman with a crow on her shoulder, and I cursed under my breath.

  Th
e second gate was always a god. Sometimes you lucked out and got Eros, or any of the other obscure minor gods, like Philyra—goddess of paper and crafts, who once asked me to make an origami eagle that could fly.

  Pantheons didn’t matter in the second gate. Occasionally you would get a heavy-hitter, one of the big names. Then, sometimes, you would get the woman standing at the other end of the hallway. I didn’t know how the Hellfire managed it, but I guessed the gods were bored and this brought them some measure of excitement.

  “Who’s that?” Cassandra whispered s she reached for her gun. I grabbed her hand and shook my head. She was reacting to the woman’s presence. It took a few seconds before the lieutenant calmed down. Peaches stood by my side in ready mode but he didn’t seem overly agitated.

  We approached the woman and I bowed. The woman nodded at me and cocked her head to one side when she looked at Cassandra.

  “Hello, Simon—who cannot be chosen,” she said without taking her eyes off Cassandra. “It warms my cold heart to see you again.”

  “Hello, Morgan. The honor is truly mine. You look well.”

  “She is human and has no voice here. You will speak for the group, yes?” She dismissed Cassandra with a look and stared at me.

  “Yes, I will speak for the group. Please ask your question.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking. Meeting the Morrigan always filled me with dread. Even though I was immortal, and she reinforced it, she always said it as an invitation to find out if it was true.

  She was the Celtic equivalent of the Valkyries except she had a few differences. The Morrigan chose the slain, but on occasion, she got her hands dirty and joined in the wars with her chosen. She also fell in love—and it usually ended badly for those warriors. Her question would be one of the hardest, which is why Monty made sure I studied her.

  “My question is in three parts since your group is three,” she said with a brief smile and pushed the crow off her shoulder. It vanished in a cloud of feathers. She was enjoying herself, which was never a good sign.