“You must be kidding.” I looked out of the hole at the morning traffic racing down Fifth. “We’re forty feet off the ground. I’m willing to risk my digestive system for a teleportation circle, because I don’t fly.”
“No time,” Monty said, forming orbs of air. “Julien will disable the barrier at the door at any moment and the Arbiter outside won’t remain outside for long. I would prefer to avoid close-quarter runic combat. He’s showing Julien a modicum of respect by not attacking us in here, but he’s never been known for his patience. Julien, on the other hand, will attempt to erase us once he enters.”
“Arbiter?” I groaned and looked at the door. The barrier in front of Julien became fainter by the second. “Couldn’t you have just sent the Sanctuary an apology memo promising no more vortex practice in the city?”
“Time to go,” Monty said with a quick smile. “Besides, you’ll probably only suffer multiple compound fractures—it’s not like you’re about to plummet to your death.”
“Your motivational speeches truly suck, Monty,” I said as I ran toward the hole. I leaped out into open space forty feet above the extremely hard New York City sidewalk. An orb of air caught me halfway down and dumped me on the street. I rolled for a few feet before coming to a stop next to the Goat. I scrambled to open the car as a figure landed up the street, cratering the sidewalk.
“You may want to get your weapons now,” Monty said from the other side of the Goat as he opened the car door. “This conversation is going to be violent.”
I jumped into the Goat, grabbing both the Grim Whisper and Ebonsoul. I slid out of the passenger side as the Arbiter walked up the street. I sheathed Ebonsoul and checked Grim Whisper, making sure I had one in the chamber.
“You know him?” I asked as another explosion rocked the top level of the Foundry. “What was that?”
“That was Julien disabling the barriers, and yes, I know him,” Monty said, shaking out his hands. “His name is Ian Macintyre and we have—history.”
The Arbiter casually walked up the street. Where the Envoys looked like renegade wizards escaping a local Ren faire, Arbiters could give Ken a run for his money in the black-on-black wardrobe department. Ian wore a black suit over a black shirt accented by pale gold tie. A small gold circle rested over his left breast. He tapped a walking stick every other step as he approached.
“Gideon is still in intensive care after you shunted him back,” Ian said, stopping in the middle of the street. “They say he won’t be able to eat solid food for months.”
“I did warn him,” Monty said, stepping into the street. “You should go back, Ian.”
“Warning me now, are you?” Ian replied as he rested both hands on top of his walking stick. He stood with his legs slightly apart and narrowed his eyes at me. “Tell your friend that if he interferes, I’ll kill him—repeatedly.”
“Stay back, Simon,” Monty said as he flexed his fingers. “He’s dangerous.”
Across from Monty on the other side of the street slept a homeless man. He was dressed in old rags and what appeared to be a coat of black feathers. He clutched a long thick gnarled branch in his hands. It surprised me that I didn’t notice him earlier, but I guess jumping out of a building away from an angry Arch Mage has a way of focusing your attention.
Something about the homeless man set off my radar. I was about to cross the street and tell him to find a safer street to crash in when Ian hit the street with his walking stick. I felt the tremor as it raced toward us. I saw Ian nod and several fireballs blazed down the street at us. Monty threw up a shield and deflected them to either side. One of the fireballs nearly hit the homeless man, who kept on snoring, blissfully ignorant of his impending incineration.
“How did he manage casting without the finger wiggle?” I asked Monty as another wave of fireballs crashed into his shield. “Seems like a useful skill.”
“He’s powerful, he’s old, and he cheats,” Monty said, throwing up another shield. “He uses a runed staff to channel additional power as a reserve. It allows him to cast spells without energy manipulation. It makes him fast, unpredictable, and deadly.”
“Gideon’s mistake was that he wanted to take you back alive,” Ian said as he pointed his stick and a chunk the size of the Goat tore free from the sidewalk. It floated lazily just above his head. “He underestimated you—an error I won’t repeat.”
“You should leave now before I hurt you, Ian,” Monty said over the roar of another wave of fireballs. “Tell them you couldn’t find me.”
“You know I can’t do that, Tristan,” Ian said and waved the stick forward, hurling the large slab of concrete at us. “In fact, this will be easier if you just let me kill you and bring back your body. We can always train another Ordaurum.”
Monty pulled me back and placed a hand on my chest, blasting me with a gust of air and launching me behind the Goat. The concrete slab slammed into and passed his shield. Monty backpedaled and threw up another shield when the slab burst into a dust cloud. I rolled into a ready position with Grim Whisper drawn. I saw the look of surprise on Monty’s face, and a matching expression of shock on Ian’s.
Julien was walking down the street with a grinning Claude in tow. Black orbs of energy floated in his hands and he looked displeased. I looked across the street but the homeless man was gone. I ran for the Goat.
“I think this is a good time for a strategic retreat,” I said as I scrambled into the Goat with Monty pausing to deflect another fireball.
“Agreed,” Monty answered as he placed his hands together. When he pulled them apart, a latticework of orange energy formed between his fingers and expanded as it floated down the street. He jumped in the passenger side. “It would be in our best interests if we were far away when that net reaches them.”
I floored the gas pedal and raced the Goat down the street and away from the Foundry as an explosion roared behind us. Flames and runic energy filled the rear-view mirror as I glanced behind us. There was nothing else to see besides devastation.
“Did you kill them?” I asked, keeping my foot glued to the floor. “What did you send at them?”
“Something I’m sure Claude will appreciate,” Monty said with a sigh and put his head back in the seat. “I need to go to the Sanctuary.”
“What?” I said, nearly losing control of the car. “Aren’t they the ones trying to kill you?”
“There is a way we can do it, but we need to go downtown,” Monty said, grabbing one of his mage powerbars. “We need to go to the Hellfire.”
I was about to answer with a choice string of curses, when my phone rang. It took me a few seconds to process the number as I put it on speakerphone.
“Shit,” I whispered when I realized who the number belonged to. “This is not good.”
“Who is it?” Monty asked, looking at the number, and then he shook his head. “It’s for you.”
It was Ken.
“Ohayo gozaimasu, isn’t it a little late for you to be up—sun being out and all?” I said as I swerved around traffic.
“Cut the shit, Simon,” Ken said with an unnatural calm, which scared me more than his usual irritation. “We need to meet.”
“Sorry, did you mean meet with me in the same physical space?” I answered, trying to deflect what I knew was coming. “Aren’t you concerned Monty may destroy whatever building we’ll be occupying?”
“I know you know about the Blood Hunters and my sister.”
So much for keeping him out of the loop. An angry Ken was a homicidal Ken. A vindictive Ken meant no one and nothing was safe. No one touched his sister and walked away unscathed. They didn’t walk away—period. This was going to be all sorts of bad.
“Where?” I said after a pause. No sense in denying it.
“Neutral ground,” he said quietly. “The butcher shop you recently redecorated.”
“That wasn’t us,” I corrected. “Beck wanted to show Monty how powerful he was and it blew up in his face—literally.”
“When?” I said after a few seconds.
“Now. Bring your mage,” Ken said before hanging up.
TWENTY-THREE
THE RANDY RUMP butcher shop-restaurant was owned and operated by a werebear named Jimmy the Cleaver. The last time we were in his shop, we had a conversation with a Negomancer named Beck. He attacked us—in violation of neutral ground protocols—causing massive destruction of the storefront.
The Dark Council had since repaired and renovated The Randy Rump along with its runic defenses. According to Monty, a magic-user attempting to cast inside of its walls now would be rendered unconscious immediately and lose their ability to cast for twenty-four hours. Something about Ziller’s metaphysical law of runic backlash. I never paid attention when Monty started with his magicscience explanations. The last time I tried, I had a migraine that lasted three days.
I parked the Goat outside of the Rump next to a blood-red Ecosse Spirit crotch-rocket that belonged to Ken. The street was deserted. For an early morning, there was a disturbing lack of activity. There were no cars or pedestrian traffic to be seen anywhere.
“You think Jimmy cordoned off the Rump?” I asked as I looked into the empty shop. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Really?” Monty said with a sigh as he stepped out of the car. “Let’s go see what he wants.”
“I could’ve said I feel like a redshirt being told to check out that ridge in the distance, but I refrained,” I said, joining Monty in front of the Rump.
“Your restraint is astounding,” Monty answered as he opened the door. “I don’t know how you manage.”
We walked in, and behind the counter stood a large man with long gray hair 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. His mouth was set in a tight line as he cleaned some glasses. He gave me a short nod and pointed to the back corner. The door to the back room was sealed and I breathed a little easier. If Ken had wanted to meet in there, it meant one of us wasn’t walking out.
“Did you invoke a cordon?” I asked as I walked up to the counter and took in the shop. Only one person sat at a back table. “It’s pretty empty in here.”
“I didn’t,” Jimmy said, looking over his shoulder. “He did. Says he has to give you something and shut down the area. Mentioned Blood Hunters.”
A cordon shutdown an area of a square block around a neutral location was usually reserved for high-level meetings between warring factions or powerful enemies. The Dark Council tried to avoid them when they could, due to the area of effect they produced.
It was similar to what Nick did with his plane-weaving but without actually moving the block. Mass disorientation and insane amounts of snarled traffic were always the result of a cordon. If the Dark Council allowed Ken to invoke this one, they were aware of the situation with Michiko.
I took a seat opposite Ken. He wore the usual black-on-black ensemble, a black trench coat over black jeans topped by a black turtleneck sweater. His long hair, hands, neck, and face were covered with a lightweight UV sensitive polymer that hardened when exposed to sunlight.
It allowed vampires to roam the streets during the day without the risk of catching a fatal tan. I called them vajamas, a cross between stylish armor and vampire long-johns. Neither Chi nor Ken approved of my name for their armor. Occasionally, creative genius must go unrecognized.
On the floor next to Ken sat a long narrow case. It matched the smaller one sitting on the table between us. He pressed the side of his neck and a section of the vampire armor receded from his face.
“Strong, mage,” Ken said, grabbing the larger case and placing it carefully on the table. “I need you to get my sister back.”
“Why isn’t the Dark Council doing something about this?” I asked, pointing at him and raising my voice. “She’s the leader and they’re just going to do what—let the Blood Hunters kill her?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “In order to understand the Council, you must understand supernaturals.”
“Rule of strength and power governs the supernatural community,” Monty replied after a pause. “She wasn’t voted in. She fought her way to the leadership position.”
Ken nodded. “Any sign of weakness and her position can be contested.” He opened the large case on the table and I saw the katana Ken usually wore across his back. Its black blade glistened in the low light, threatening to cut me just for looking at it. “She leads the Council because they fear her. Now her enemies see an opportunity.”
“Kokutan no ken?” I said, admiring the faintly glowing runes along its blade. I’d never seen it unsheathed. A few of the runes matched the ones on Ebonsoul. “This is the dark blade, but they said blades.”
“This is one of them, the other is kokutan no tamashi,” Ken said, looking at me. “The blade you are bonded to.”
“Wait, what?” I said, pushing my chair back. “What do you mean bonded?”
“I’ve never used this blade as a weapon,” Ken said, closing the case and pushing it closer to me. “My sister gave it to me to safeguard. I’m only its keeper. You, on the other hand—I have seen you use and be used by your blade.”
“You can’t bond with it, can you?” Monty asked, rubbing his chin. “You would be undone.”
Ken shook his head. “Perceptive, mage,” Ken said and pulled out a sheet of paper from his coat. “No supernatural can bond with these blades. It would negate their existence if they tried. They were created to destroy us.”
Monty narrowed his eyes at me. “Your curse makes you an aberrant, but not supernatural,” Monty said, looking at me and then turning back to Ken. “How did your sister know to give Simon this blade?”
“I don’t know how, but she knew he could wield and bond to it,” Ken said, placing the paper on the table in front of us. “This leads to the next problem. You can’t break his bond.”
“It can’t be that hard,” I said. “Monty can do one of his spells and dissolve the bond. Right?”
Ken pushed the paper forward and Monty picked it up. He held it for a few seconds before making a quick gesture. Runes floated in the air and Monty nodded as they disappeared seconds later.
“I thought no magic could be cast in the Rump?” I said, looking at Monty and expecting some runic hammer to smash him.
“Battle magic is prohibited within these walls,” Monty said, still studying the paper. “I just used a quick permutation spell. It has a low probability of activating the runic defense.”
“What do you think, mage?” Ken said after a moment. “It only points to one way.”
Monty pointed at the paper. “Where did you get this?” I noticed the intricate diagrams surrounded by runes and lines. Concentric circles were intersected by other symbols and surrounded by more runes. “This is a description of Ziller’s Quantum Phasic Entanglement, although I’ve never seen it expressed in quite that manner.”
“I’m told that is the bonding process of the blades,” Ken answered. “It was given to me by—a—…friend. Do you see the problem?”
“Indeed,” Monty muttered, turning the paper over. “The equations are correct. There is only one way to break the bond.”
“I knew there was a solution,” I said, relieved. “How do we break the bond? What spell? The sooner we do this the sooner we can get Chi.”
“No spell is required.” Monty reviewed the sheet again. “According to this, it’s quite simple. In order to dissolve the bond, the bearer must expire.”
“Excuse me?”
“The only way to break the bond is for you to die,” Ken said. “Do you see the problem now?”
TWENTY-FOUR
“THERE HAS TO be another way,” I said, grabbing the paper from Mon
ty and looking at the indecipherable diagrams. He stared at me with a ‘what are you doing?’ look. “Maybe you didn’t examine the equations correctly?”
Monty extended a hand and I gave the sheet back to him. He reviewed it once more before returning it to Ken. “The equations are sound,” Monty said with a nod. “We need alternatives. Do you know where they’re holding your sister?”
“No, but I know it has to do with this,” Ken said, removing a pouch from the small case. He placed the pouch on the table and opened it. It was another keepsaker box. “I liberated this from a group of Blood Hunters I retired last night. Whoever is flooding the streets with vampire blood is using these boxes to move it.”
“What does Redrum have to do with your sister?” I asked, not seeing the connection. “What does that have to do with the blades?”
“The Council—my sister—shut down blood harvesting in this city years ago,” Ken said, picking up the keepsaker. “It made her some powerful enemies.”
“Enemies who wouldn’t mind if she disappeared,” Monty said. “Especially if it meant the return of Redrum profits.”
“Someone promised the Blood Hunters the dark blades,” Ken answered and stood. He pulled another, larger, pouch from the case and handed it to me. “Take this.”
“In exchange for removing Michiko from the board,” I said, taking the pouch. “They told them to trade Michiko for the blades and then what?”
“What do you think, Simon?” Ken said, pressing the side of his neck, activating a visor across his eyes. “They kill her. What’s left of her will be found on a rooftop at sunrise somewhere or they will starve her and cut her loose to be killed by the NYTF or the Council as she rampages.”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath, examining the pouch he gave me. “What’s this?”
“Battle armor for Michiko,” Ken said and tapped at the armor on his neck. “Day or night, make sure she puts it on when you find her. It will be the only thing to protect her against blood arrows.”
Montague & Strong Detective Novels Box Set: Montague & Strong Detective Novels Books, 1 through 3 (Montague & Strong Case Files) Page 47