Requiem: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 13)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Funny you say that,” I said, looking around. “Every time I try diplomacy, it usually ends up looking like this. Turn off that infernal alarm. You’re explaining this to Rox—Director DeMarco.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Look around, Tank. This lobby went from Welcome to Haven to You have just entered a militarized zone in the span of a few minutes. Who do you think is to blame for that?”

  Tank looked down at Peaches then back at me.

  “My team?”

  “Good answer. Right answer,” I said, holstering Grim Whisper. “When the Director gets here—and she will be coming in hot—make sure you inform her that she has a huge pair of vicious knockers.”

  “What?”

  “You may want to rephrase that, but you know what I mean,” I said quickly. “Your team, your responsibility. You didn’t have them stand down, your percussives, jumped the gun, and decided I made excellent target practice. A Vetted Visitor, mind you.”

  The klaxons turned off and I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I looked around and took in the scene. Roxanne was going to be so pissed. The red emergency lights switched off and normal lighting returned. That’s when I was able to appreciate the level of damage one hellhound could inflict in a confined space.

  The reception area had been transformed into a small warzone. It looked like the walls had taken mortar fire. I stepped close to one of the holes and realized they were about the size of a certain hellhound’s head. The front desk had a sizable chunk missing from one corner. The missing section looked vaguely like an enormous bite mark, complete with drool residue.

  Several of the tables, which earlier held magazines for visitors, now resembled strange abstract sculptures. Steel shutters had descended over the main entrance and egress points, effectively cutting off the lobby from the building. That had been the sound of metal grinding on metal.

  The shutters themselves were runed with symbols I couldn’t decipher, except to know that trying to break through them would result in massive amounts of pain. Roxanne was really not fooling around. The new security measures were impressively scary. Much like the Director herself.

  No one was leaving the lobby under their own power.

  After a few moments, the shutters on the stairwell doors slid up with a surge of power. It was a familiar, dangerous, surge of power.

  The stairwell doors erupted outward, and more mage security poured into the lobby. Behind the mages, I caught sight of one very angry-looking sorceress making her way to the front of the group.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  “What the hell happened here?” Roxanne asked, without raising her voice. That was somehow more fearsome than if she had been yelling at the top of her lungs. “I expect an explanation…now.”

  No one answered.

  The amount of energy coming off of her would have made me mute, too. She sounded calm, but her energy signature said homicidal. I was behind some debris that resembled one of the desks. No, I wasn’t hiding—I had just found a good spot to rest after being slammed into a wall. I was engaged in active recovery.

  Peaches padded over to the livid Director.

  “Peaches?” she said, rubbing his head, much to Tank’s surprise. He was also engaged in active recovery behind another pile of debris. Smart man. “Where is Simon?”

  My traitorous hellhound padded over to where I sat. Again, I wasn’t hiding, I was recovering. Roxanne followed Peaches over.

  “Hi, Roxanne,” I said with a small wave. “Give me a second. Your knockers launched me into a wall.”

  “Excuse me?”

  THREE

  “I mean, never mind,” I said, getting slowly to my feet. “Your new security measures are impressive. Scary, but impressive.”

  “And necessary, it seems,” she answered as she surveyed the devastation in the lobby. “Why am I not surprised to see you in the center of this destruction?”

  “I can explain,” I said. “It’s not what it looks—”

  She held up a finger and cut me off as she turned to face the now standing Tank. I had to give him credit. Anyone else would have left the lobby running in fear. He stood his ground, trembling in place. The energy Roxanne gave off had a distinct ‘obliterating’ vibe.

  Today she had blasted past annoyed and stepped firmly into anger, just this side of rage. It was an amazing and terrifying thing to experience, due to my proximity to said angry sorceress.

  I’d never seen Roxanne truly angry.

  Upset, yes, but full-out sorceress on a rampage about to destroy everything and everyone in her path, no. This brief glimpse into her anger made me glad I had never faced her as an enemy. I had enough scary enemies: there was no need to add one more.

  “Tank,” she said quietly, and he winced. “Explain this…now.”

  “It was my fault,” I said quickly, potentially taking my life into my hands and causing Tank to exhale in semi-relief. At this point it was the equivalent of my jumping on a grenade meant for him. “It was unintentional, really. A misunderstanding.”

  Roxanne turned to face me again and I saw my life flash in her eyes. It was a brief moment of future agony.

  “Really?” she asked, in the same gentle, homicidal tone she used earlier. “Perhaps you should clarify?”

  “I walked in, but I didn’t know about the new security protocol. Then I opened my jacket.” I opened my jacket slightly, showing Roxanne my holster. “He saw my weapon and the security team reacted against what they thought was a threat to Haven.”

  Roxanne narrowed her eyes at me.

  Usually I was a horrible liar, but when lives were on the line—and Roxanne looked like she wanted to erase someone—I could pull off a semi-decent fabrication if it was rooted in some truth.

  “Is this true?” Roxanne said, her words clipped with barely contained anger as she turned to Tank. “Is that what happened?”

  I nodded almost imperceptibly behind Roxanne.

  “Yes ma’am,” Tank said, quickly, with a wise sense of self-preservation. “I truly apologize for the misunderstanding, Mr. Strong.”

  “What happened to your arm?” Roxanne asked, looking at what remained of Tank’s jacket, shirt, and the gentle bite marks on his arm gifted to him by my overprotective hellhound. “It’s a mess.”

  “Me again,” I said, interrupting. “Or rather”—I glanced down at my sheepish puppy—“Peaches.”

  My hellhound whined and ducked behind me as Roxanne looked down at him.

  “How?” Roxanne asked. “Did you set your hellhound on my security team?”

  “Again, another misunderstanding,” I said with a small chuckle that died away at her expression. “It’s really funny if you think about it.”

  “I’m practically breathless from the hilarity of this situation…Explain, and make it plausible.”

  “Well, I thought I was under attack and before I knew it, Peaches had jumped into defense mode,” I said. “I managed to stop him before he tore off”—I made a show of looking at Tank’s name badge which actually said Tank—“Tank’s arm, but just barely. Really sorry about that, Tank.”

  “We’re good,” Tank said with a dismissive wave. “We aren’t really prepped to deal with monst—I mean, hellhounds. These things happen.”

  “No, they don’t,” Roxanne said, her
voice resembling a slab of steel slapping me in the face. “They tend to happen around Tristan and Simon more often than not, but they don’t just happen. Not around here. You and your team should be prepared for every and any eventuality—including hellhounds.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tank answered. “This won’t happen again.”

  “Actually—” I started and stopped immediately as Roxanne gave me a look that said, ‘Continue at your own peril’. “Nevermind.”

  “Go get that arm looked at,” Roxanne said to Tank. “I expect a full report on my desk after you’re tended to.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Will do.”

  Tank left the lobby a little faster than I expected, probably grateful to still be able to move under his own power after that conversation.

  Roxanne turned to one of the mage cavalry that had rushed in with her. His name tag said Rogers. Rogers was currently giving me a heaping dose of stink-eye. I ignored him. I had already agreed to take the heat for the destruction.

  I wasn’t going to lose sleep over some extra mage stinkeye. I’d been glared at by the best. Besides, Rogers was amateur hour; his glare didn’t even register as a one on the glare-o-meter. After gods, mortal glares just didn’t impress me.

  “Rogers, take the rest of the team upstairs and inform the floor staff about what occurred. I’ll make certain they receive proper medical attention. Leave some of your team deployed here to secure the lobby.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rogers answered, still giving me stinky eyeballs. “Right away, ma’am.”

  “Simon, with me,” Roxanne said. “This way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, mocking Rogers, who overheard me and raised his glare to an impressive 1.5 on the glare-o-meter. Better, but not by much. “Where did you find these guys and what’s Rogers’ deal? He’s looking at me like I did this.”

  “Simon, have you ever considered that your actions have consequences?” Roxanne asked. “Real-world consequences that impact those around you?”

  “All the time,” I said, my tone serious. “I have also considered that the consequences of the actions of those around me usually result in blame being directed at me. Unfairly so.”

  “Unfairly so?” Roxanne asked with a slight smile. It was a smile that said, Okay, let’s entertain your fantasy. “Explain.”

  “Every time something gets annihilated, obliterated, or disintegrated, everyone is looking at me,” I said indignantly. “Why? I’m not the one with the energy-manipulating abilities, or the one tossing around orbs of power that blast through almost everything and everyone.”

  “Do I need to explain it to you, Simon?”

  “Please do,” I said. “Use non-magical vocabulary, too. It’s been a rough morning.”

  “It’s actually quite simple: you present a very clear and imminent threat to your immediate environment.”

  “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

  “You are bonded to a hellhound,” Roxanne said, rubbing Peaches on the head as we walked. “He’s adorable and fearsome. Leaning more toward the fearsome, I’d say.”

 

 

 

 

  “He can’t help it,” I said, focusing on Roxanne. “It’s part of the package.”

  “I know,” Roxanne said with a nod. “Then there’s you. Your energy signature is different now—I’d almost say shifted, but that’s impossible, obviously. You’ve faced formidable opponents, and that leaves a mark. Aside from that, on some visceral level, people pick up on your condition.”

  “I’ve been upgraded,” I said, remembering Kali’s words, “from cursed to marked.” I pointed to my forehead. “See? Marked.”

  Roxanne narrowed her eyes and briefly gave me a look of surprise.

  “I see. Marked, indeed,” she said. “Then there’s that—your attitude about this entire thing.”

  “What entire thing?”

  “In the past, you were aware of this world, but not a part of it,” Roxanne answered. “Now you are, and you make light of it. Did you know being the ‘Marked of Kali’ is considered a death sentence in many circles?”

  “Does that include any of the circles I currently inhabit?”

  “Presently? Yes, most of them. The Marked of Kali was considered a harbinger of death and destruction to be eliminated at the earliest convenience,” she answered. “I’m actually surprised we aren’t under attack at this very moment.”

  “Oh, I see some of Monty’s humor has been rubbing off on you,” I said. “I have to admit, ‘marked’ sounds much better than cursed, though.”

  “You are missing the gravity of your situation,” Roxanne replied, shaking her head. “The Marked of Kali is a death curse. She has only hastened your demise.”

  “Good thing she took care of that part first, then,” I said, raising a hand before she could continue. “I know. Sometimes, I don’t know how I keep it together myself. Many of the things I’ve seen, beings I’ve interacted with or run from, were only hinted at in rumors and stories.”

  “Anyone else would have been driven mad by now,” she said. “Your resilience in light of how you were introduced to this world is remarkable.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I answered with a slight smile. “I may have come into all of this with some of my own crazy. I only know that if I don’t adjust and deal with it, there are people close to me that will be in danger. I can’t afford to lose it—or them.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Well, you wanted to know why much of the blame falls upon you. Now you know.”

  In classic sorceress fashion, she had answered my question without actually answering my question. I was certain that every magic user went through a class called Obfuscating Answers to Regular Questions 101.

  “Not really, but thanks for trying.”

  We walked over to the elevator banks in silence.

  Roxanne pressed her ID card against the far elevator panel, followed by a thumbprint and a retinal scan, activating the Director Only elevator. This was the same elevator that accessed the Detention Area several levels below Haven. She really had beefed up the security. I never recalled the elevators needing several layers of biometrics in the past.

  We stepped into the elevator and Roxanne moved to the buttonless panel.

  “Top level, please,” Roxanne said, stepping close to the panel as a green beam scanned both her eyes.

  “Voice and optical recognition confirmed. Welcome, Director DeMarco.”

  “Whoa, that’s a serious security upgrade,” I said, stepping back as the elevator slowly rose. “The lobby shutters were a nice touch too. Felt ultra-secure. Just like a bank vault.”

  “The schism nearly killed him, Simon,” Roxanne said after a few moments, her gentle voice sheathed in steel. “It’s not safe for him to leave. He’s not ready to go out there with you, not yet.”

  “He’s not ready? Or you’re not ready?”

  “Does it matter?” she exploded. “I almost lost him! You’re his shieldbearer. You were supposed to watch him.”

  I was acutely aware that I was in a small space with an emotional and powerful sorceress—emphasis on powerful. I had known this conversation was coming eventually. I just didn’t expect it to take place in a moving box with no cover.

  I took a deep breath and tried my diplomacy again, hoping for an outcome that was low on the violence and high on the survivability.

  “I did watch him,” I said firmly, but treading carefully. Her thoughts were slightly skewed when it came to Monty. “I watched him sacrifice himself for someone he cares for twice.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, raising a hand. “It’s just that I know he won’t stay. I’ve placed elite magical security and some of the strongest counter-measures I know in place. It’s meaningless.
He humors me, but I know he can circumvent them, especially now, after the schism. His power has grown considerably.”

  “How much stronger is he?” I asked, remembering how he’d faced off against Evers even in the midst of his schism. “Dex-level strong?”

  “Dex is in a class unto himself,” Roxanne answered. “I don’t know many mages as strong as that crazy old man. Tristan is close to being an Archmage. A few more shifts—”

  “Are these shifts more schisms?” I asked warily. “More importantly, are they lethal?”

  “Not usually.”

  “Let me clarify…are they lethal to those around Monty? Specifically me.”

  “A shift is not a schism,” Roxanne said. “If he progresses normally, it should happen without much upheaval…or death.”

  “This is Monty we’re talking about. Normal and boring he is not,” I answered. “If he’s this strong, why all the security around him? Is he in danger?”

  “No, I told him not to cast. He’s just appeasing me, but once he sees you—”

  “You think he’ll cut and run?”

  She gave me a look that said, Are you serious right now?

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Does he seem like the type to remain locked up in Haven indefinitely?”

  “I think you underestimate how much he values and cares about your opinion.”

  “Values and cares? Yes,” Roxanne said. “Follow? Unlikely. In that regard, he’s as bad as his uncle. A Montague through and through.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Dex seems to listen to the Morrigan. Maybe you can get her to pay Monty a visit? Convince him to stay put?”

  “Are we referring to the same Tristan? Not even she could convince him to stay here against his will. She barely manages to keep Dexter clothed.”

  “I think she likes Dex semi-naked,” I said with a wince. “There’s an image I won’t get rid of anytime soon.”

  “Tristan has his own motivations. He may hear what I have to say, but it’s unlikely he will listen.”