Contents
Title
Quotation
For Amy Beth Walker Nolan
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
Cast of Characters for Silver Clouds Dirty Sky
CAMEOS of NOTE
ORGANIZATIONS
Special Mentions for Silver Clouds Dirty Sky
AUTHOR NOTES
Contact me:
Homecoming
Thank you for reading
Acknowledgments
ART Shredders
About the Author
Copyright
Silver Clouds Dirty Sky
By
Orlando A. Sanchez
A Montague & Strong Detective Novel
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1
For Amy Beth Walker Nolan
Your bright light was extinguished during the writing of this book. You were one of the first voices in the MoB Family. You helped in every ART. Your voice, your humor, and your wit are interlaced in every Monty & Strong story and I thank you.
You were a dear friend who always had a kind word and insightful idea into Monty & Strong. When I suggested this story to you, you were excited to read it as you were with all my books.
May the Valkyries raise a flagon of Valhalla Java in your honor Amy. I am proud to call you a member of my family-the MoB Family.
Each of you comprises my support-giving me insight, advice, ideas, and most importantly love. You allow me to brighten our sometimes dark world with a few moments of adventure, action, and humor.
Our lives are dimmer with the sudden loss of Amy’s light, but I know she would want me to keep telling stories and she would want you to keep reading.
This story is for you
Amy.
ONE
I HATED TELEPORTATION.
We landed on cool, smooth stone, and I seriously considered never moving again. I looked up in time to see the setting sun. It took a few seconds before I realized that we’d left New York City at dawn.
“Stay in the circle,” Monty said as he gestured. Light blue runes floated over us. “I can’t determine the effects of a jump of that scale. It’s safer if you stay inside.”
“Where the hell are we, Monty?” I sat up and really looked around this time. Peaches was sprawled out, stunned, and moving slowly next to me. Beside him lay Michiko, unconscious. I didn’t see Dex. I tried to stand, and the ground shifted in several directions, advising me that remaining seated was a good idea right now. “Where’s Dex?”
Monty pointed with his chin while he kept gesturing. We were in a courtyard. A large, squat, stone building sat in front of us in the looming darkness. In fact, from what I could tell, stone buildings surrounded us.
On the ground a few feet away lay Dex, with a woman next to him. It was hard to make out her features, but the chill in the air gave me a clue.
“Monty,” I whispered, “is that—?”
She looked up at me then, and I stared into the eyes of the Morrigan. Her eyes gave off a faint green glow as she laid Dex’s head gently on the stone and approached.
“Which one of you allowed him to cast a spatial temporal circle—using his blood?” she asked with a smile that promised all sorts of pain.
That little voice I always ignored, suggested burrowing into the stone and hiding. For once, I agreed with it.
“Well met” Monty stepped out of the circle and gave her a short bow.
“That remains to be seen, mage.” She pointed at Dex without turning. “How did this happen?”
“He cast the blood circle to save us,” Monty answered, glancing back at the rest of us. “No one tells my uncle what to do or how to do it. You know that better than most. I did my best to limit the backlash. I didn’t know he would be bringing us here or time-skipping.”
“Where is here?” I asked, getting unsteadily to my feet. The ground only wobbled slightly this time. In the dim light, I managed to make out a plaque affixed to the crumbling stone wall next to us that read: Wardrobe Tower-12th Century. “This isn’t much of a wardrobe tower.”
“The damn fool,” the Morrigan whispered and stepped back to Dex’s body, kneeling next to him. “He has exceeded his capacity and nearly killed himself in the process. What caused him to take such action? Why would he teleport you here?”
“We were evading a magistrate,” Monty replied. “One sent to apprehend or eliminate me.”
“That black orb that ate the Goat didn’t say apprehend to me,” I said, looking around the stone wall. Behind it stood a larger structure. “He was trying to kill us—especially you.”
Peaches stirred and sniffed the air. I rubbed his belly as he stood on wobbly legs. Whatever we just did, it hit him just as hard as it had me. Michiko was still unconscious.
“I’ll get you something to eat—as soon as I figure out where we are,” I said, looking at Monty.
“The Consortium will be arriving soon,” the Morrigan said, scooping up Dex’s body with little effort. A large raven swooped in and landed on her shoulder. She plucked a feather from its body. “You will have to find another way to return. The entire island is gated.”
“The entire island?” Monty narrowed his eyes and looked around. “I see. Only the Consortium would sanction something like that. Uncle Dex bringing us here must have set off their defenses.”
“Your uncle will be in runic stasis for some time, and the Consortium would like to have some words with him—violent words.” She handed me the feather with a nod. “When you need my unkindness, destroy this.”
“He’s managed to anger them again, hasn’t he?” Monty said with a shake of his head.
The Morrigan smiled. “He’s your uncle. Why ask questions you already know the answer to?”
“Consortium?” I looked at Monty. “There’s no Consortium in New York.”
“You are correct, Simon.” The Morrigan flashed her green eyes at me and began phasing out of sight, taking Dex with her. “But then again, you are no longer in New York.”
Her voice trailed off into the night as I turned to Monty. “Where did he teleport us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. “What did she mean by her unkindness?”
“It’s more where and when.” Monty adjusted his jacket. “A blood circle allows the caster to incorporate an additional component to the teleportation circle—in this case it was a temporal component.”
“Don’t magic-science me. Where and when the hell are we?”
“He took us to a place of power,” Monty said, looking at the large stone structure in front of us. “That is the White T
ower.”
“White Tower as in Tower of London?” I asked incredulously. “He ported us to London?”
Monty nodded. “I would say a few hours ahead since we left New York City at dawn. London is five hours ahead, and it’s evening here. I could really use a cuppa.”
“Why would he port us so far away?” I asked. “Even better, how did he do it?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” a voice behind me said. “Welcome to London. You are all under arrest.”
TWO
“CONSORTIUM MAGES?” I asked, looking at the group around us.
Monty nodded. “Five in the open, and several more trying desperately to camouflage but failing,” he whispered. “Don’t shoot them—yet. I’d like to hear what warranted this response.”
The Penumbra Consortium was the older, darker, angrier, European version of the Dark Council—heavy hitters with long memories and longer reach. They oversaw and controlled the Eastern Hemisphere.
“Good reaction time,” I said, turning slowly and facing the mage who spoke. Peaches rumbled next to me as I looked down at him.
“Can we find out who they are before you go munching on them?” I asked, grabbing Peaches by the scruff and looking at the mage who’d declared our arrest. He looked young, but that wasn’t an indicator of age with mages. Monty appeared to be in his late fifties but was over two hundred years old. “Who’s doing the arresting?”
“In the name of the Penumbra Consortium, I—Mage Bartholomew Anderson—place you under arrest,” the young mage said. “Do not resist.”
“Do you usually arrest visiting magic-users, Bart?” I asked. “Where’s the English hospitality I keep hearing about? What are the charges? Is this because of Wardrobe Tower? I promise we didn’t destroy it. It was like that when we got here.”
“You arrived in a place of power through gated defenses and disrupted all of the protections placed around the Tower,” Bart said, examining us. “The only ways to breach the White Tower defenses is to use a blood circle or dark magic. Both of which are grounds for extermination.”
“There’s a perfectly good reason for—” I began.
Bart narrowed his eyes at us and scanned the group.
“Furthermore, you’re traveling with a dark mage, a vampire and what I think is some kind of hellhound,” he continued, his voice laced with disgust. “Clearly that creature is demonic and should be dispatched with haste.”
Bart formed an orb of flame in his hand. I stood in front of Peaches and let my hand rest on Grim Whisper.
“His name is Peaches, and I think you might want to reconsider your next move before you let go of that orb,” I said with quiet menace. “If you send that our way, I promise I’ll shoot you first, in places that won’t kill you, just so Peaches can finish you off.”
Bart took a step back, clearly surprised, but still held the orb. The other mages around him also formed orbs. Expressions of fear were etched into their faces. Peaches couldn’t be causing this much fear. It’s true he could be intimidating, but most of the time he looked like a large, hungry, oversized, cute and cuddly hellhound. On second thought, it was possible Peaches was causing some of the fear.
“It’s clear you are engaged in demonic activity,” Bart said, his voice wavering. “If you resist, we will be forced to attack and destroy you, along with your demon.”
Michiko stepped silently to my side. “I invoke a council audience,” she said.
“Only one of the heads of the Dark Council can do that,” Bart scoffed, not taking his eyes off us.
I began pointing at and counting the mages I could see, and even some of the ones that were trying to hide. There were about twenty in the immediate vicinity. It looked like an overreaction on the Consortium’s part.
“What are you doing?” Bart asked, confused.
“Counting how many of you won’t make it back, for pissing off a vampire who also happens to be the head of the Dark Council.”
The blood drained from Bart’s face. “I beg your pardon?”
“Monty, what would require the attention of twenty mages?” I asked, still counting. “Dragon, maybe?”
Monty rubbed his chin. “I don’t recall any draconic activity in London,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s possible one is in the area. However, that wouldn’t require twenty mages, even if they are inexperienced.”
I looked at Bart. “Begging might be a good idea, but it depends on her mood,” I said. “I highly recommend abject groveling.”
Chi shot me a look. “I request an audience with the elders of the Consortium, as granted me by the statutes of the Supernatural Accords,” she said, taking another step forward. “Before dawn would be preferable.”
“Bollocks,” Bart muttered, and the orbs disappeared. “With the poor lighting and that creature, I didn’t recognize you. Please accept my sincerest apologies, Ms. Nakatomi.”
Chi waved the words away as one of the other mages approached Peaches with what appeared to be a steel leash covered in runes.
“We still need to secure the creature,” Bart said, looking at Peaches. “It’s too dangerous to leave unrestrained.”
“See, Monty?” I said as the mage approached. “Not every mage is as wise and all-knowing as you. This one has grown tired of living.”
The mage with the steel leash stopped.
“Indeed. Clearly they have been experiencing some kind of demonic activity.” Monty looked at the mage with the leash. “Do put that thing away before Simon lets him have you for a snack.”
The mage quickly tossed the leash to the side.
“Smart move,” I said, as we were escorted towards Tower Bridge, where we were greeted by a convoy of waiting vehicles.
THREE
THE PENUMBRA CONSORTIUM was situated in several locations around London. We were heading to the Thames office, located on the top floor of the Tate Modern Blavatnik Building.
“That is one ugly looking building,” I said as we approached the museum. “It looks like some sort of factory.”
“It’s actually the site of the old Bankside Power Station before the Tate took it over.” Monty looked out of the window. “The Consortium has retained ownership of the property since the mid nineteen hundreds. The Blavatnik is just a new name for the old Switch House.”
“Maybe they should level it and start over?” I said, looking at the squat building overlooking the Thames.
We rolled south over the Tower Bridge in a convoy of four black Range Rover Velars. Chi was in the first vehicle, along with the other mages. Bart sat across from me and Peaches sat in the back area where I could hear him rumbling at me.
“I need to feed Peaches,” I said, looking at Bart. “I need to get him some food, or things will get unpleasant.”
Actually, I didn’t know what would happen if Peaches didn’t eat. Not feeding a hellhound sounded like a bad idea, though. I didn’t intend to find out the consequence of a starving Peaches.
“What does it eat? Small children?” Bart looked at Peaches with a mixture of fear and disgust. “Sorry, we’re fresh out.”
“A deli would be good, or a butcher shop.” I looked out the windows on my side. “A smart-ass mage will do in a pinch. He’s not picky.”
I rubbed Peaches’ head as I stared at Bart.
“I’m sure we could arrange some meat for the beast,” Bart said, shifting back even farther as Peaches growled at him. “But since Ms. Nakatomi invoked the audience, the elders will be heading to the Meeting Hall.”
“His name is Peaches—not beast,” I said. “Do you think it’s a good idea to bring a hungry hellhound into a room of twitchy mages who jump at anything that appears slightly demonic?”
“Driver, take us to Lobos, they should be open at this hour,” Bart said hurriedly. “They have all sorts of meat there, and it’s on the way.”
“Thank you.” I ru
bbed Peaches’ neck. “We’re going to get you some meat. Be patient.”
“You talk to it?” Bart asked, surprised. “How did you bind it to service?”
“Bind it to service?” My level of irritation shifted up a notch. “Peaches isn’t a demon. I didn’t bind him to any kind of service. I mean technically he’s a hellhound, but he’s not a demon—at least, I don’t think he is.”
“You don’t know?” Bart rolled his eyes at me. “How could you not know? How was he procured if you didn’t summon him?”
I shook my head. “Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“He was a gift from Hades,” I said.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you.” He crossed his arms. “Want to know what I think?”
“Not particularly, but I have a feeling you’re going to share anyway.”
“I think you summoned that—thing, and now you’re trying to pass it off as some kind of pet,” he said, raising his voice. “It’s clear this mage is dark, and you…you must be some kind of demon trafficker. The Elders will sort you all out.”
“They sure seem nervous about demons,” I said, looking at Monty. “This have something to do with Dex?”
“Unlikely. His Vatican episode was years ago. This must be something new. However, I’m curious as to why he would bring us to the Tower.”
“What did she mean when she said the island was gated?” I kept from saying the Morrigan’s name. These mages were beyond twitchy. Hearing about her was probably not a good idea.
“It seems the Consortium has sealed off the island.”
“Which one? Last I checked, Britain was all island.”
“Exactly.” Monty looked outside. “They’ve managed to lock down—as in no teleportation is possible—the entire island. No small feat. I had no idea my uncle was that powerful.”
“How hard is it to get around one of these gates?”
“Not terribly. I should be able to manage it in two-hundred years.”
“Oh, soon, then.”
Bart glared but kept his distance from us, especially Peaches.
“Maybe they’re spooked because they haven’t come across a hellhound or someone with your level of dark mageosity,” I said with a smile. “That would be totally understandable, wouldn’t it?”
Silver Clouds Dirty Sky A Montague and Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 4) Page 1