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

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Rott is,” Douglas said after a long pause. “I was against calling you in on this, but George insisted. Says you owe him and you’re the best dead-eye he knows.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, the words thick in my throat. “It’s one thing to go through all the cloak and dagger shit—contacting Ramirez, the limited use phone, and the rest. I get you can’t help yourself, but using George’s name to justify your actions is sad…A sad and desperate joke, that no one finds funny.”

  I was about to hang up when another voice came over the phone.

  “It’s not a joke,” the voice said. “You’re the best man for this job.”

  George Rott.

  “You’re dead,” I said in shock. “You were taken apart by an entropy bomb. I was there. Who is this?”

  “It’s me,” George said. “You saw an explosion that took out the Kragzimik, yes. I thought I was dead, too, except I landed several blocks away—barely alive. Somehow, the synthetic entropy bomb altered me.”

  “Impossible,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  For a few seconds the synapses in my brain forgot how to fire. George had been torn apart with the Kragzimik. I had seen the explosion.

  “Improbable,” Rott said. “Not impossible. I’ll explain it when we meet. I need your help, Dead-Eye. Balfour is a major threat.”

  “I don’t even know who this Balfour is, much less what kind of threat he poses.”

  “He’s a dragon,” Rott said, with barely masked rage. “That should be enough.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry about—”

  “I’m going to hand the phone to Douglas now,” Rott said, cutting me off. “I expect to see you tonight.”

  “I’m retired.”

  “Not according to Rott,” Douglas continued on the phone. “Says you’ve been active since you left us. Teamed up with some Brit and taking down major threats. A dragon, last I heard.”

  My head was still reeling from learning Rott was alive. How did he survive?

  “I didn’t leave you. I was asked to leave.”

  “Now, I’m asking you to return. It’s only one mission, and then we wipe the slate clean. After this, if you want to completely turn your back on us, your family, after all we did for you, feel free.”

  “How do I know that’s really Rott doing the asking?”

  “He said you’d ask that. He said we should meet where he lost Cass—where you lost Cass.”

  I remained silent for a few seconds and controlled my breathing. The words were deliberate, designed to do the most damage to maximally push my buttons.

  They worked.

  “Fine. When?”

  “Tonight, 2300. Bring your Brit. I’ll make the introductions and brief you on the mission then. Glad to have you aboard.”

  “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  “Yes, you have,” Douglas said. “You need to make this right. This is your chance to do so.”

  He hung up the call.

  Monty looked at me, his expression serious.

  “He mentioned Cassandra,” I said, keeping my voice low as I looked at my phone. “Rott asked for me.”

  “Rott perished in the entropy blast that killed the Kragzimik.”

  “Apparently it didn’t stick,” I said, still slightly shocked. “I just spoke to him, or someone who sounded just like him. Could he have survived?”

  Monty rubbed his chin.

  “I suppose if the Kragzimik was powerful enough, he could have formed a cocoon of energy around his body. Rott was in proximity when the blast went off, but…”

  “Are you saying there was a chance he could have survived?”

  “Slight, but yes. There were several variables at play that night,” Monty replied. “The entropy bomb was synthetic, keyed to Rott’s life force…The Kragzimik was a considerably powerful threat…And don’t forget Salao, the demigod—any one of those or a combination could’ve played a role in Rott surviving the blast.”

  “He still blames me for Cassandra.”

  “Her death was not your fault,” he said. “Cassandra understood the risks and danger.”

  “I should have kept her farther back, out of the action,” I said. “She would’ve been safe then.”

  “Unlikely,” Monty said. “Slif would have hunted her down in any case. She was not about to let us walk away from that conflict. What did Douglas want?”

  “It’s a mission. Shadow Company,” I said. “Rott requested me specifically. The target is a Balfour. What kind of name is that?”

  “A dangerous one. Are you certain he said Balfour?”

  “Positive. They want to meet tonight, same place where Cassandra died.”

  “They’re hunting dragons.”

  “Didn’t sound plural. Rott said this Balfour is a dragon.”

  “Rott requested you specifically. Ever since Cassandra, he’s been obsessed. I thought with his demise this would be put to rest.”

  “He sounded slightly off, said the entropy bomb altered him,” I said. “Maybe it’s not really Rott?”

  “Even if it isn’t entirely Rott, there’s enough of him to request you for this mission.”

  “If they want me for this mission I’m going to go with: I’m bait and they’re leaning toward hostile.”

  “You think you’re a target?” Monty asked. “Why?”

  “My last mission with Shadow Company,” I said. “I disobeyed a direct order. Derailed the mission, the target escaped. Got myself bounced out.”

  “I see. And now they want you back?”

  “Offering redemption, it seems,” I said. “One last mission to set things right and finally put things to rest.”

  “Sounds more like it may be an opportunity to put you to rest,” Monty said. “Have they kept track of you since you left?”

  I nodded.

  “Seems like it. They know about you, too. Douglas said you should come with.”

  “To my recollection, there are no mages in this group.”

  “None. Shadow Company is too twitchy to run with mages,” I said. “They don’t trust magic users.”

  “Yet requested my presence?”

  “Yes, Rott has been keeping tabs on us, apparently.”

  “This seems off,” Monty said. “Why now?”

  “Who is this Balfour?”

  “No one to be trifled with,” Monty said, serious. “We want to stay as far away from him as possible.”

  “If he’s the target, my guess is that they have a small window of opportunity to get to him, and want me there.”

  “This is unwise. Facing dragons is no trifling matter,” Monty said, shaking his head. “Their power is several orders of magnitude above most mages, including my own.”

  “I know.”

  “What happens if you refuse?”

  “Depends on who’s really doing the asking,” I said. “He says it’s Rott. If I say no to George, that would be bad. If it’s Douglas? Well, he was never overly stable. If I turn him down, it could go south in a hurry.”

  “I see,” Monty said. “You really need to upgrade your circle of friends.”

  “They’re not my friends,” I said, my voice hard. “Not even close. To them, I’m expendable. Everyone who stands in their way is. Shadow Company is a dysfunctional family that discards those Douglas thinks are useless.”

  “Is that why they asked you to leave?” Monty asked. “He thought you useless?”

  “He asked me to leave because I dared to defy him,” I said, the words spilling out. “I was young, and naive, but I wasn’t a blind follower. He expects, no, demands complete compliance and blind devotion. Does that sound like me?”

  “Not in the least,” Monty said. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No apologies needed,” I said, waving his words away. “Just not one of my favorite subjects.”

  “Understood,” Monty said. “We all carry the luggage of our youth.”

  “Baggage, but it still works,”
I said with a tight smile, turning when I heard the footsteps. “Sounds like Jimmy…plus one. Plus one very large one?”

  Jimmy the Cleaver came into the main room, followed by—I didn’t know exactly what he was being followed by. It looked like an ogre crossed with something worse, if that was even possible. It carried several large boxes of meats and cases of beer with room to spare for a small SUV in its arms. I let my hand drift to Grim Whisper, wondering if even entropy rounds would stop the enormous creature.

  Jimmy smiled when he saw us, his expression shifting to one of alarm when he saw my hand moving to my weapon.

  “No need for that,” Jimmy said, stepping behind the counter and pulling out an enormous titanium bowl with a large letter P on it. “This…is Grohn.”

  “Fascinating,” Monty said, looking up at the large creature. “You’ve befriended an ogre hybrid?”

  “He works here now,” Jimmy said, taking the cases of beer. “He came highly recommended. Put all that over there, Grohn, thanks.”

  The large creature placed the cases gently on the floor, surprising me as it sorted the meats from the beers. I didn’t think ogres were capable of fine motor skills that didn’t involve removing a head from its shoulders. Thankfully, he didn’t have the patented ogre B.O., sparing me the melting of my lungs. He smelled vaguely of cut grass and wood. For a few seconds, I was transported to the forest after a hard rain. The floor shuddering under my feet snapped me back to reality.

  “By whom?” I asked, taking a step back to take in the entire Grohn image. “The last village he destroyed?”

  “Simon…” Monty said, shaking his head slightly. “Do not anger the large ogre hybrid in an enclosed space. A large, null, enclosed space, I might add.”

  “Good point,” I said. “Sorry, just not used to seeing an ogre in action without running for my life in the process.”

  “Give me a second,” Jimmy said. “I’ll take care of your pup before getting your usual.”

  Grohn looked like an ogre on steroids. He was larger than any ogre I had ever had the displeasure of facing. He towered over Jimmy and dwarfed Monty and me. Peaches vibrated in place as he stared at Jimmy, oblivious to the huge wall of ugly creature that crouched several feet from us, putting supplies away.

  If Peaches was only thinking about meat, this Grohn creature couldn’t have been too bad. On the other hand, my hellhound had a singular focus when it came to meat and Jimmy was currently filling his bowl with premium pastrami.

 

  I teased.

 

 

  Peaches sniffed the air and chuffed.

 

 

 

 

  So much for my ‘easily-distracted-by-the-scent-of pastrami’ hellhound threat detector. If any of our enemies ever weaponized pastrami we were in deep trouble.

  “Since when do you hire muscle for the Rump?” I said, looking at Grohn. “And by muscle, I mean the very large wall of ogre currently occupying all of the space in here.”

  Jimmy looked at me and laughed.

  “Since you two roam the streets freely?” he said. “Thank you for the runework, by the way, Tristan. It’s been ultra-effective.”

  “My pleasure,” Monty said. “Any incidents?”

  “Not since the runes and Grohn here,” Jimmy said, glancing over at the large ogre-like creature. “Things have calmed down somewhat.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “Is he an ogre?”

  “Ask him yourself,” Jimmy said. “He understands you. Need to get some more things out of storage. In the meantime, let your hellhound snack. Be right back.”

  I glanced down at Peaches, who gave me the utmost set of puppy-dog eyes followed by a tiny whine, and a ferocious fang-filled hellhound grin.

 

  Peaches bounded off toward his bowl and promptly set himself to devouring mode as the pastrami disappeared into his gaping maw.

  Jimmy glanced down at Peaches with a nod, smiled, then headed to the back room, leaving us alone with Grohn.

  I turned to the massive creature staring intently at me. Every cell in my body wanted to draw my gun, shoot first, run across the street, and then ask questions. I deliberately dropped my hands and shook them out.

  “Right, what could possibly go wrong with this scenario?” I said, mostly to myself. “Hello, Grohn.”

  “Hello, Mr. Strong,” Grohn said, his voice reverberating around us. “Welcome to the Randy Rump.”

  “You know who I am?”

  Grohn nodded as he sorted more of the crates.

  “Mr. Jim told me about you and showed me pictures,” Grohn said. “He said you like to break things and I should stop you if you break the Rump.”

  “I like to break things?” I said, glancing at Monty, who had suddenly taken an intense interest in the view outside the window. “He said I break things?”

  “Yes,” Grohn answered with a smile. “Don’t worry. I like to break things, too.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

  Grohn looked at me and nodded as he placed some of the crates aside.

  “A first time for everything,” Monty said, heading to a table as Jimmy reappeared with his arms full of some more meats and supplies. “Some tea, James?”

  “The usual?”

  “Yes, please,” Monty said with a nod, settling into a chair. “It would be much appreciated.”

  “What are you, Grohn?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “I’ve met ogres before; usually they’re angry and want to rip me to pieces. You’re unlike any ogre I’ve seen.”

  Grohn nodded again.

  “I’m a trollgre,” Grohn said. “Half ogre, half troll. We are very rare.”

  “And very dangerous,” Jimmy said, from behind the counter. “You need anything, Simon? Coffee?”

  “Yes, Deathwish me please, with extreme caffeine intent. Thank you,” I said, moving over to the table Monty occupied. Grohn stepped over a moment later. “A trollgre. No wonder you haven’t had any incidents lately. It’s nice to meet you, Grohn. I hope I never have to find out how dangerous you are.”

  “One massive heart attack and herbal royalty coming right up,” Jimmy said from behind the counter as he prepared our drinks. “Grohn’s only dangerous if we’re attacked.”

  “All are welcome to the Randy Rump, as long as they behave,” Grohn said. “If they don’t, Mr. Jim said I can break them.”

  Jimmy gave me a smile from behind the counter. I could tell he was enjoying himself.

  “Makes sense,” I said, extending a hand. “I promise not to break the Randy Rump.”

  Grohn took my hand in his and shook it slowly. My hand was dwarfed by the immense trollgre.

  “We still have to unload the rest of the truck,” Jimmy said. “Before you go on back, why don’t you share some of your wisdom with our guests?”

  “Can I?” Grohn asked with anticipation. “I would like that.”

  “Sure,” Jimmy assured him, staring at me. “They would love it. Especially Simon.”

  Grohn turned to me and captured my complete attention—like I had a choice.

  “Remember when air was free at the gas station?” Grohn asked. “Remember?”

  “Um, sure,” I said, unsure of where this was going. “That was long ago, though.”

  “Well, now, its $1.50,” Grohn said. “Do you know why?”

  “Not really, no,” I answered, still slightly confused. “Do you?”

  Grohn nodded vigorously.

  “
Inflation!” Grohn bellowed with a wide smile that rivaled Peaches’ grin of friendliness. It was a fearsome sight to behold, and my hand moved reflexively to my gun before I realized he was smiling at me. “Inflation!”

  It took me a few seconds. Then, inwardly, because I still enjoyed breathing and the small comforts of life, like keeping my limbs attached, I groaned, realizing where he’d gotten his name.

  I returned the smile as best as I could, fighting the limbic part of my brain that was yelling at me to kill it with fire immediately before he bit off my head.

  “That was excellent and profound, Grohn,” Jimmy said with a wicked smile, patting Grohn’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go finish unloading the supplies? That way we can be ready for tonight’s guests.”

  “Yes, Mr. Jim,” Grohn said, glancing at me with another heart-stopping smile before lumbering off. “Inflation.”

  “You could have warned me,” I said as Jimmy donned an apron that read I’m Unbearable. “That was so bad. I can’t believe you encourage him.”

  “Yes, it’s horrible, but no one dares tell him that to his face,” Jimmy said, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Grohn was out of earshot. “The last person who tried had to be carried out of here. He takes his moments of wisdom seriously. My advice? Smile and thank him.”

  I rubbed my face as Jimmy brought my coffee and Monty’s tea. The aroma of the Deathwish was spectacular and jolted my brain into a heightened state of awareness. I kept my flask of javambrosia in my pocket. I wasn’t in the mood to taste colors and see sounds, so the coffee would be enough.

  “I’ll remember to do that,” I said. “I have a situation, and maybe you can provide some insight.”

  Jimmy’s expression darkened immediately as he crossed his massive arms.

  “Does this situation in any way, shape, or form involve blowing the Rump to bits?” Jimmy asked, suddenly serious. “If so, I’m going to need you to take your beverages to go.”

  “Not at all, I hope.”

  “You hope?” Jimmy said, narrowing his eyes at me. “What exactly is this situation?”

  Jimmy grabbed a chair from a nearby table, pulling it close, and sat on it with the back of the chair facing us.

  “What do you know about dragons in the city?” I asked. “The old powerful ones.”