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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  I raised my hand and slowly pulled the black card from the Blood Hunter from my pocket. Claude was jittery, which made me think the Foundry was on some kind of alert. He looked at the card and his face darkened as he turned it over, reading the coordinates before handing it back to me.

  “Merde,” he muttered under his breath, unlocking the gate. “Come with me.”

  We stepped through the iron gate and my skin tingled. Behind the gate, a winding path led to the front of the large mansion. I saw the runic defenses inscribed on the ground on either side of the path as we crossed the threshold. I recognized the circles from my last visit to the Hellfire Club.

  I nudged Monty. “That looks like an—”

  “Oblivion circle, yes,” Monty whispered, narrowing his eyes. “These are especially lethal. Avoid them.”

  “Good idea. I’ve been meaning to ask you…” I said as we walked along the path around the circles behind Claude, “is your vision getting worse?”

  Monty looked at me with an expression of surprise. “My what?” he replied quickly. “What would make you think that?”

  I shrugged. “Well, you’re pretty old and I’m seeing you squinting a lot lately,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing spectacles, or bifocals, or even trifocals, if you need them.”

  “You do realize that mages can live over three millennia?” Monty said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My eyes are fine. The ‘squinting,’ as you call it, allows me to shift visual spectrums and view runic energy clearer.”

  “I’m just saying, there’s no shame in getting old,” I reiterated with a squint in his direction. “I’m not an ageist. Clint has an excellent squint, as does Wolverine.”

  “Your open-mindedness fills me with comfort, considering you will probably reach an age far surpassing mine,” Monty replied with a sigh.

  Claude snorted derisively.

  “You have something to say, Clyde?” I said, knowing he hated when I called him that. “Please share.”

  He glared at me and took a deep breath before speaking. I liked to think I helped others work on their patience and tolerance. It’s my calling.

  “Oui,” he nodded and glanced at Monty. “You are at most two or three centuries old?”

  Monty gave him a brief nod. “Over two, not quite three,” Monty answered after a pause.

  “Enfant de bas age,” Claude said with a sneer. “You are still a baby. Julien is four times your age. And dwarfs your power, even with your recent shift.”

  “Well, this baby is still a kick-ass mage,” I shot back, angrily. “He’s faced serious threats and stopped them.”

  Claude nodded. “Oh yes, a dragon and a deranged pack of wolves,” Claude said with mock seriousness. “Very dangerous to a child. The vortex, however, was quite creative—for an amateur. When will the Circle come for you?”

  “Not to mention—” I started as Monty gave me a look, and it became clear. Claude was trying to goad me into giving away information. It almost worked and I shut up before I mentioned Chaos. We reached the main door. It was a huge wooden slab covered in symbols and was glowing faintly with runes.

  “What do you wish to mention?” Claude asked suddenly.

  “Just that Julien takes his security seriously,” I said as Claude stepped to the entrance and placed a hand on a panel. Several bolts could be heard sliding away from the door. “Why does someone so obviously powerful need so much protection? I mean, Julien is close to a thousand years old—what’s he scared of?”

  The door opened with a slight creak from the weight of the wood. Claude stood to one side, giving me a stink-eye as we entered. He opened a door adjacent to the main entrance.

  “Julien fears no one and nothing,” Claude said as he led us through the foyer into a large room with walls of dark wood. The partially drawn blinds covered the floor-to-ceiling windows and allowed the morning light to cascade softly into the room, causing the polished wood to glisten.

  “Well, that would explain all the security,” I said, taking in the runes that covered the floors and ceiling, most of which making no sense to me. Books lined the walls and several desks sat in the center of the spacious library.

  “Maybe he should leave the doors open? Turn this place into a museum?”

  “Your humor is—how you say—troll?” Claude said, giving me a sharp look.

  “The word is droll,” I said and looked down at him as I spoke. “A troll is a short, stupid, mean creature that guards entrances and bridges, sort of like what you do, Clyde.”

  He gave me a one-finger salute and proceeded to ignore me. Monty walked over to one of the walls, examining the book spines, and ignored Claude, who sensed the affront and bristled.

  Monty wasn’t arrogant. It was mostly that he’s English and has little tolerance for stupidity and small-mindedness. Claude was both, wrapped in a dangerous package. Many mistook Monty’s aloofness as being unaware. They discovered with breath–stealing suddenness how fatal that assessment could be.

  “Study is always good for a debutant,” Claude said with a self-satisfied smile. “I apologize that we do not have a children’s section in this library.”

  “I agree.” Monty reached out and pulled one of the books from the shelf. “You have a copy of Ziller’s laws of Quantum Entanglement. This is quite rare.”

  Claude responded with a short laugh. “I doubt a mage at your level can comprehend the complexities of that volume,” Claude replied, pulling out another book. “Perhaps this book is more to your understanding.”

  He tossed the book on the desk near Monty. My hand reflexively moved to my holster before I remembered I’d left Grim Whisper in the car. Monty walked over to the desk and picked up the book.

  “Ziller’s Rudiments of Spellcasting,” Monty said, examining the spine. “One should never forget the basics.”

  “Basic,” Claude said, making the word sound like an insult. “That is what you are as a mage, Tristan—basic.”

  “That will be enough, Claude,” a soft voice said from the doorway behind us. “I believe the front gate has been unmanned long enough.”

  “Seigneur, pardonne moi,” Claude said quickly. He placed his right fist over his heart and bowed. “I shall return at once.” Claude brushed past us and left the library without another word.

  Monty slid up to me and put a hand on my arm. “Whatever you do, don’t call him—” he whispered as Julien approached the room.

  “Jules!” I said with a smile as Julien entered the library. “Good morning. Any chance Clyde can get us some coffee?”

  Julien stepped farther into the library. His thin frame wore a black Amosu Vanquish Bespoke over a gray Eton shirt. He was barefoot, as usual. In fact, I had never seen him wear shoes. He reminded me of Gandalf—in a suit. His long white hair, usually loose, was in a braid today.

  “You must forgive Claude,” Julien said as he motioned to the wait staff behind him with a nod of his head. “He is zealous in his protection of me and this place, but he has lost some of his social graces over the years.”

  “Some?” I snapped back. “He has no social grace. Maybe you should change his name to something more fitting, like Connard?”

  Julien winced as he looked at me with a tight smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning? Did Claude mention we just finished renovations?”

  “Why do you keep bringing up renovations?” I asked, looking around. “We aren’t interior decorators.”

  “I disagree,” Julien replied with a nod. “Tales of your destructive redecorations precede you. I believe Haven is undergoing repairs as we speak?”

  “That wasn’t our fault,” I said, looking away. “Well, it was mostly not our fault.”

  “Of course it wasn’t,” Julien answered. “I would prefer if you refrained from your destructive demolitions while you visit—if possible.”

  I produced the card left by the Blood Hunters. Julien took it, read the front, and turned it over. He handed it back
to me, his face expressionless.

  “She is not here,” he said after a few seconds. “Your vampire is not on the premises.”

  “I really hope that’s true,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “I would hate to find out you had something to do with her kidnapping.”

  Julien gave me a predatory smile, and my blood froze. “Do not threaten me, Simon,” he said, his voice full of quiet menace. “I will erase everything and everyone you hold dear and make you watch while I do it.”

  “Am I supposed to be scared right now?” Actually, I was close to losing bladder control. If there was a person who could make that threat and keep it, it was Julien.

  “Your recklessness along with your poor self-control will get you killed one day, Simon,” Julien whispered, staring at me.

  “Where is the Blood Hunter?” I said when I found my voice again. I really had to stop pissing off people who could squash me with a thought. “And why is she here?”

  “I am a facilitator,” he answered and removed a cup from the tray on the desk. He gestured for us to do the same. I grabbed a cup of coffee while Monty picked up the tea. I noticed he didn’t drink any. “They wanted somewhere to meet where they could feel safe. The Dark Council neutral zones made them uncomfortable.”

  “Especially when you attack the leader of the Dark Council and then kidnap her,” I said after sipping my coffee. “I would be uncomfortable too.”

  “Please, follow me.” Julien led us out of the library and up a grand staircase to the second floor. “It is my understanding that this is to be an even exchange,” Julien said as he headed down the central hallway. A set of double doors waited for us at the far end.

  “They want something called the dark blades,” I said once we reached the doors. “Do you know what they are?”

  “You don’t?” Julien answered, giving me a curious look. “This isn’t recognized neutral ground. That being said, as sovereign of the Foundry it is my responsibility to inform you that an attack on the premises constitutes an act of aggression and will be dealt with harshly. You are here to have a conversation—not a battle.”

  “What if they attack first?” I said, knowing that this conversation could go either way. “What is the protocol? Just in case.”

  Julien stared at me for a good ten seconds. “All parties involved in the aggression will be terminated, just in case,” Julien said, nodding at the doors. They slid open silently as he disappeared.

  TWENTY-ONE

  MONTY AND I entered what appeared to be a sitting room except in extra-large. The same wood from the library adorned the interior of this room. Large chaise lounge chairs sat on either end of the room next to the walls. In the center of the room, several smaller lounge chairs were positioned around a table. An immense fireplace dominated one wall with a loose semi-circle of smaller chairs facing it.

  Runes covered the four walls, ceiling, and floor. They flowed and slid over the surfaces, a moving mosaic of energy and power. Julien really was serious about his security.

  Near the fireplace stood a woman dressed in what appeared to be a black bodysuit. It was overlaid with sections of ballistic armor that covered parts of her body. Her face, neck, and arms were covered with some kind of camouflage paint. It gave the impression of being dipped in black ink. Her black hair was cut short on the sides and spiky on the top. I did a quick scan and noticed the absence of weapons. She gazed at us, doing her own threat assessment, and approached the center of the room. The way she moved told me that she was lethal—armed or not.

  I tossed the card on the table. “Where is Michiko?”

  “I see you managed to keep your leg,” she answered, picking up the card. “Where are the blades?”

  I reached reflexively for Grim Whisper again before I remembered it was in the car. “That was you,” I said, flexing my jaw and wishing I had my weapons.

  She nodded with a small bow. “We needed to keep you occupied while we extracted the head of the Dark Council,” she answered and threw the card back on the table. “I looked forward to your explosion. Defeating a blood arrow means you have some skill.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I answered as the anger unspooled inside of me. “You should’ve aimed higher.”

  “Next time, I will,” she said, crossing her arms. “Did you bring the blades?”

  “I need to see Michiko first.” I stepped to the right of the table and kept the fireplace on my left. “How do I know she’s still alive?”

  She sniffed the air. “You smell like her,” she said, looking me over and narrowing her eyes. Her voice had a slight accent I couldn’t place. “You are not dead or alive. You are her thrall?”

  “Her what?” I asked, taking a step forward. “Where is she?” I felt Monty step close to me as the anger rose.

  “Who are you?” Monty asked, placing a hand on my arm. “Name and rank.”

  “I am Estilete. You may call me Esti,” she said, still looking at me. “Second to Anastasia Anyxia Santiago, leader of the Cazadoras Sangrientas. And you are?”

  “Tristan Montague of the Golden Circle,” Monty answered with a nod. “Why are the Blood Hunters in this city, Esti?”

  “The dark blades, Mago.” She stepped to the side and held up two fingers. “Stolen by the Karitori-fu—the reaping wind, during the war. We traced them here and demand their return.”

  “You would risk war with the vampires and the Dark Council over these blades?” Monty stepped to the side and kept himself bladed to her position. I was in the center of an intricate dance of positioning.

  Karitori-fu—the reaping wind—was the name given to the terror of night in Medieval Japan. Tales of her exploits became legends. I was sure they still used stories of her in Japan to make children behave. The Karitori-fu was a combination of the bogeyman, the monster under your bed, and every creature that inhabited the night rolled into one—except it was real. Michiko used the name during the Supernatural War.

  “We are Blood Hunters,” Esti replied, the hint of a smile crossing her face. “Vampires are of no consequence to us.” She continued stepping to her right and, frankly, it was making me nervous.

  “Why did you attack her?” I asked, shifting to the side and stepping closer to the immense fireplace.

  “You care about her?” Esti sniffed the air again. “Do you—love her?” she asked derisively.

  “We have an—understanding,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable discussing my feelings. I could feel Monty gathering power, which made no sense. Julien would blast us to unrecognizable little bits if we disregarded his warning.

  “An understanding?” Esti scoffed with a short laugh. “You understand nothing. She is a vampire. You are a meal to her, nothing more.”

  “You’re wrong,” I whispered. “Michiko would never feed off me.”

  “Am I?” Esti flicked her wrists and two long runed blades materialized in her hands. I recognized the runes as the same ones on the blood arrows. Getting stabbed by one of those would end badly. “Do you think your understanding will prevent her instincts from taking you? Where are the blades?”

  “This is why I hate these conversations, Monty,” I said, reaching slowly for the flask of Valhalla Java. “No one wants to just converse anymore.” I took a long pull from the flask. The skulls on the surface coruscated with blue energy as I felt the liquid burn on the way down. My heart raced and my vision tunneled as a roar filled my ears. This may have been a bad idea.

  “Conversation is a lost art,” Monty said and formed an orb of air in his hand.

  “And this one is over,” Esti said as she flicked her wrists and sent her blades at me.

  The Valhalla Java, aside from being the best coffee I’ve ever tasted on this planet, enhanced my reflexes, strength, and vitality for a short time. I hadn’t had a chance to test all of its properties. Since it was a gift from Hel, the Norse goddess of the underworld, I was certain there were some nasty side effects to drinking too much of it—like spontaneous explosion or rapid disi
ntegration.

  I dived over the table, causing her to miss, and slid in front of the fireplace. The blades sailed across the room right at Monty. He deflected them with a blast of air, burying them in the far wall. Esti extended her arms and two more blades materialized in her hands. I stood and noticed that the wall above the fireplace began bulging; never a good sign.

  I took a few steps back from the expanding fireplace. I shook my head, trying to clear the image of the ballooning wall. Maybe the Valhalla Java had destroyed some brain cells and this was the result. I stood there, transfixed, as the wall got closer. I felt the pressure on my arm and looked down as Monty yanked me to the side. The wall, fireplace, and half the floor exploded into the sitting room.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “OH SHIT, JULIEN is going to be so pissed,” I muttered as I brushed off the debris from the destruction. I looked out of the gaping hole and onto Fifth Avenue. The fireplace was gone. I turned to see Monty tracing runes in the air. I pointed at the wall. “Did you do that?”

  His face was tight with concentration. “We need to vacate the premises,” Monty said, his voice grim. “This should buy us some time.”

  Orange energy blossomed, covering the doors and windows. I searched the room for the Blood Hunter, but she was gone. The door to the sitting room vanished, revealing a scowling Julien with a smiling Claude next to him. Julien placed a hand on the orange wall of energy and cursed. If he was angry at his newly ventilated sitting room, the energy wall pushed him into livid territory.

  Another explosion outside focused our attention on the hole. “Ordaurum Montague,” a voice bellowed from beyond the hole. “By order of the Tribunal of the Golden Circle, you are hereby instructed to surrender yourself to my custody.”

  “Bollocks,” Monty whispered. “They would send him.”

  “That doesn’t sound like your pal Gideon,” I said, noticing Julien tracing a rune at the doorway. “We can’t get out the way we came, and whoever is outside sounds less than friendly. How do you suggest we vacate these premises?”

  Monty looked in the direction of the large smoldering hole. “That way.” He pointed. “Fastest egress.”