Full Moon Howl: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 2)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Gone where?”

  “Not where, what,” She gestured again and a small orb the size of a grapefruit materialized in her hand. It hung there and bobbed slowly as it rotated appearing as a deep indigo surrounded by a black circle of energy. “This is Tristan, or rather a representation of his energy signature—his magic.”

  “Is that black circle getting bigger? That can’t be good.”

  “That circle is only present when a magic-user has gone dark. But it doesn’t make sense here. It should be invading the center, taking it over. Not encasing it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She turned the orb in her hand. “Only the strongest mages have this blue energy signature. The only color above it is gold and I have never encountered that color.”

  It looked mostly solid, but some parts were becoming transparent. It flashed and I saw it grow smaller. The black circle increased to take up the space.

  “The blue is getting smaller.” I noticed with a hint of panic in my voice.

  “Yes. If it continues, Tristan will lose his ability to control his magic,” she said, her voice grim. She closed her hand and the orb evaporated.

  “He’ll lose his magic?” I was alarmed at the idea of Monty without his magic. I didn’t know what happened to a mage when they were erased, but I was positive it was bad.

  “No, worse, he’ll be at the mercy of his magic. Have you ever seen him lose his temper?”

  I recalled that moment he went terminator with the vampires who shunned Georgianna. He nearly killed everyone that day. If it weren’t for Karma and my mark—I didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Once,” I said with a shudder. “I think I’d rather face the ogre and Chaos again than a pissed-off Monty.”

  She nodded. “Mages are trained to maintain control at all times. Any strong emotion, any loss of control, can mean disaster or death.” She glanced down the corridor Monty had used to enter the facility.

  “Well, that explains his exuberant displays of emotion. For a long time I thought he was Vulcan.”

  A sad smile crossed her lips. “He has profound feelings for those close to him. I just don’t think he’ll ever allow himself to express those feelings,” she said while reaching into her lab coat. “I’ve been meaning to give this to you. The last time you were here, I was—somewhat preoccupied.”

  “Ogres and crazed gods have a way of focusing your attention,” I said as she handed me a small, clear crystal the size of a quarter. I took the crystal and laid it on the palm of my hand, examining it carefully. “What’s this?” I asked, knowing Roxanne could see the confusion on my face.

  “It’s a runic lens and it’s keyed specifically to Tristan, allowing you to view his energy signature remotely. You can think of it as a magical scanner, non-magic users will be able to see changes through the crystal those of us with magic can see with the naked eye.”

  “He must be okay. I mean, it’s clear.” I examined the crystal, turning it around in my hand. “That’s good, right?”

  She gave me a quick nod. “He’s keeping the darkness around him at bay somehow, but it’s draining him. If it becomes opaque, you need to bring him to me immediately. Do you carry restraints?”

  “Always,” I said, opening my coat to show her the pair I kept in an inside pocket. “Why?”

  “He’ll be back soon. I can’t keep him here and there’s no reason to while that crystal is clear. He’s too stubborn to listen to me. You must keep an eye on him. If the crystal turns red, you have to use the restraints.”

  I shook my head. “Restraints? On Monty? Are you kidding? I can’t do that.”

  “If you value his friendship, his life, you will,” she said punctuating each comma with pokes to my chest. “If the crystal turns black, it’s too late.”

  “What happens if it turns black?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  “Do you still carry entropy rounds in Grim Whisper?” she asked, slowly looking away.”

  Surprised, I nodded. If she knew about my weapon and the entropy rounds, she knew their purpose. I swallowed hard because I knew what her next words were going to be.

  “Only for specific situations,” I said. “Usually when it’s all gone to shit and there’s no hope and the world is about to end. You know—the usual.”

  “If that crystal turns black, the ‘usual’ will feel like a holiday,” she warned.

  I clenched my jaw and let out a deep breath. “I’m not going to shoot Monty with entropy rounds.” I couldn’t believe she would even ask this of me. “I thought you cared for him?”

  “More than you’ll ever know. But if he goes dark, you’ll be able to help stop him. If you don’t we won’t be around to regret your decision.”

  FIFTEEN

  She made a gesture with her hand and the ambient sounds of the hospital rushed in. I stood silently and put the crystal in my front pocket. I could see Monty coming down the corridor. He looked preoccupied with something.

  “Simon, Simon,” she said and tapped my shoulder. “Focus.”

  “I got it,” I said quickly, moved to the Goat, and started the engine. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Take care of Jimmy.”

  She nodded as Monty approached. “We will.”

  “He’s sedated and in runic stasis,” Monty said, stepping close to Roxanne. “I suggest you keep him that way. We may be dealing with Alder’s Permutation or a variant of it.”

  Roxanne’s face darkened. “The Werewolves. Do you know who’s doing this? The Permutation is unstable in the best of circumstances. Can you contain it in time?” They walked around the Goat. Monty got in and fastened his seatbelt, then he reached out and held her by the arm, pulling her close.

  “Ten layers are good, but I want you to stay near a secure area. We need to go uptown and deal with a situation. Once that’s done, we’ll find who’s doing this and stop them.”

  “What if you can’t contain it? Alder’s is a nightmare and if it gets away from the caster we will have the makings of a pandemic.”

  “If it gets out of control, every Werewolf in the city will transform into a rabid killing machine, and we’ll be forced to hunt them down,” Monty said calmly as he sat back and sighed, letting go of her.

  “Can we go with finding who’s responsible and stopping them?” I said, putting the Goat in gear and backing up. “That sounds less fangy.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” Roxanne said, looking at me. “And be safe.”

  I knew what she meant and felt the weight of the crystal in my pocket as I pulled the Goat out of the bay and headed uptown. I pulled out my phone and speed dialed Ramirez.

  “So glad you found the time to call, pendejo. You’re calling to tell me you’re at the cordon and need to get in, right?” Ramirez said quickly.

  “Fifteen minutes,” I winced as he responded with a loud string of curses in his native Spanish and finished the flurry with a guttural coño. Monty raised an eyebrow in admiration.

  “If I’m not dead by the time you get here, I’m going to kill you, Simon,” Ramirez said after a long sigh. “Is Tristan with you?”

  “Yes,” I said, feigning insult. “I never hear you threaten him.”

  “I’m crazy, not suicidal. When you get to the scene—call me. Don’t breach the containment cordon. We have The Den locked down and the Werewolves trapped inside.” He hung up.

  “Is he always so cheerful?” Cassandra said from the back and shifted away from the ever-sprawling Peaches. He had reacquired most of the back seat and left her hanging on to the door for balance.

  “How long have you known, Ramirez?” I asked, glancing quickly in the rear-view mirror.

  “I just transferred over last week from Operations. I wanted to do fieldwork not sit behind a desk.” She took her life into her hands by attempting to reclaim some of the back seat by pushing one of Peaches’ legs away.

  “Sitting behind a desk doesn’t get you chomped in half by an angry hellhound,” I said, jumping
on the West Side Highway and flooring the gas. “And I wouldn’t do that, unless you want to be known as ‘one-armed Cass.’”

  “It’s Lieutenant Cassandra, not Cass, or Cassie,” she said defiantly, looking at me through the rear-view mirror.

  “You move his leg and we’ll make sure to get it right on your tombstone. That work for you, Lieutenant Cassandra?”

  She retracted her hand fast and shot me another look. Peaches rumbled a low growl and a chuff while keeping his head outside the Goat and in the wind as we sped uptown.

  “Don’t torment her,” Monty said and pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “She has plenty to take in without you making it worse with that creature.”

  A rumble was the response from the back.

  “She chose to be an NYTF Field Agent. I’m sure there’s plenty wrong with her thought process.”

  “Or I’m just not as chickenshit as my peers,” she shot back.

  “Fear can keep your ass in one piece on this job,” I muttered. “Being scared doesn’t mean being a coward. It just means you enjoy living.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” She stared out the window. “Do you get scared?” I heard the unspoken words in her questions. I knew how she felt. There were days I still didn’t believe the things I saw.

  “Only when I’m awake,” I said, glancing back quickly in an effort to reassure her. “It doesn’t get easier, but you get tougher.”

  She placed her hand on her weapon. “We’ll see,” she said, still looking out into the night as we raced past the Hudson River.

  “Monty, what are we looking at and what is this Alder’s Mutation you keep referring to?” I gave him a quick sidelong glance. We were about ten minutes away from The Den. I knew once we got there he would jump into the situation.

  “It’s permutation, not mutation—and it has nothing to do with mutants, before you start your Wolverine rant.”

  “It’s never a rant. We don’t take Saint Wolverine’s name in vain. Especially if we’re about to engage in badassery.”

  “Alder’s Permutation,” he continued, ignoring me, “was created by Jeremy Alder, a battle mage. It’s designed to force a change against a target. The caster can then control the target after the change.”

  “Why does that sound bad, especially when dealing with Werewolves?”

  “It’s not bad—it’s horrific. The targets lose their minds, becoming a slave to the caster. It was a fast way to raise an army and decimate enemy numbers.”

  “This was another one of those wonderful Golden Circle creations, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded and reached for another power bar. “I told him the spell was too dangerous even with the foci needed. The elders disagreed with me and said it was a necessary evil,” he said with thinly veiled anger. “I left the Sanctuary shortly after that.”

  “What happens to the targets when the spell is removed?” I asked as I swerved around a slow-moving taxi. “Do they go back to normal?”

  “The Permutation was designed to be used against enemies in a war. Once the spell runs its course or is removed, the target dies—violently.”

  “And this…Davros is casting this spell?”

  “Not yet, he isn’t,” he said, finishing his power bar. “He still needs one more foci. The hardest one to get. Although I would’ve thought the drake’s blood was impossible to attain.”

  “He has the drake’s blood and the Phoenix thing. What else does he need?” I said, pulling off to the side. The Den was a block away and I could see the blue flashing lights of the NYTF strobing in the night.

  “He needs a conductor for the spell. It was designed to attack a large group at once, not like the negation rune you’re familiar with. In order to cast the spell effectively he needs a pound of magically infused platinum.”

  “That sounds rare.”

  “It’s extremely rare. In my entire life, I never saw more than a few ounces at once. When they first cast the Permutation they pooled the resources of several sects to get the pound needed,” he said as I stopped the Goat.

  “Then that’s good—he can’t cast this spell. We find him and take him back to mage jail. Only, this time we use the industrial locks, right?”

  “With two of the foci he can cast a variant and release it,” he said looking out the window. “It won’t be precise but it can still be devastating. There is no control and the targets just run rampant. They become mindless killing machines.”

  “I’m really starting to dislike mages right about now,” I said getting out of the car. I opened the back door and Peaches jumped out and stood next to me. Cassandra got out on the other side. Monty got out and pulled the sleeves of his shirt as he looked up the street.

  I placed my hand on the Goat. It locked with a clang and the usual orange glow raced across the surface.

  “I never thought I would be facing a Permutation again in my lifetime,” Monty said as he began walking to The Den. “Let’s go see how bad this is.”

  SIXTEEN

  I hung back and let Cassandra catch up to Monty as I snuck a look at the crystal Roxanne had given me. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw it was still clear. I put it back in my pocket and then looked up the street and noticed the transparent bubble covering the Werewolf club known as The Den.

  The building, a repurposed warehouse that once served the now extinct shipping industry, was immense and took up half a city block. It was encased in a shimmering transparent dome of energy. Ramirez walked up to us before we could reach the edge of the cordon.

  “Simon, I told you to call me when you got here.” He turned to Cassandra. “Where’s your cruiser?”

  She pointed at Monty but Ramirez glared at me.

  “She was about to drive into a minefield of death,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “Monty saved her life. Just couldn’t save the cruiser.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Between the two of you, I go through more vehicles than a demolition derby.” He began walking back to what I guessed was the command vehicle. “Stay close and away from that containment field. Last thing I need is more casualties.”

  I looked around, confused. “What are you talking about? We’re fine. Besides, we just got here. How could we be casualties?”

  “I never said you were causalities. I said I don’t need any more. Collateral damage is something the two of you specialize in. Between his destruction,”—he pointed at Monty—“and you…being you, no one, and nothing is safe.”

  “Well, now that I feel all welcome, why did you call us?” I said while looking at the containment cordon. The surface of the dome coruscated with blue-green energy running across its surface every few seconds.

  “How did you get a containment sphere?” Monty asked, admiring the dome as he stepped close. He kept looking up until he almost lost his balance. “And one this big?”

  “Our Q-master, Jhon, has been working on amplification tech. Took a regular containment sphere and boosted it somehow,” he said, waving a hand. “Science and magic both act the same when it comes to him.”

  “The Werewolves inside?” Cassandra asked, drawing her weapon. “When are we breaching?”

  “We? Never,” Ramirez answered and pulled her to one side. “If I let something happen to you, your father will kill me.”

  “I’m a big girl and can handle myself, Director. My father will have to live with the fact that he can’t control me.” She pulled her arm away.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone can do that,” I whispered to Monty, who was still examining the dome. She shot me a dirty look and turned back to Ramirez.

  “If she wants to risk maiming or certain death as she bleeds out from catastrophic wounds, I say you let her come,” Monty said, and turning to look at Cassandra. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were—what did you call it? Chickenshit?”

  “Catastrophic wounds?” she asked and looked past us at The Den. After a few seconds, she set her jaw and nodded. She had just convinced herse
lf to run into a building inhabited by rabid Werewolves. Clearly, her synapses were misfiring, but I gave her points for badassery. Wolverine would be proud.

  “Lieutenant, you don’t have to do this,” I said, getting her attention. “This is some nasty shit and you may not walk out of there.”

  “I signed up for the nasty shit, Simon, and no one here is going to stop me from taking down those Werewolves.” She stepped close and then stopped suddenly as Peaches gave off a low growl. He gave her a look and a low rumble that said ‘Please try and attack him so I can remove your legs’ and she warily stepped back a few paces.

  “Actually, I can stop you,” Ramirez said, and gestured to the command vehicle. “You’ll be monitoring the breach from in there. Surrounded by steel, and agents with guns.”

  “I can be more helpful inside—” she started.

  “Inside the CV,” Ramirez continued. “You can provide all kinds of help. These two will be dealing with the threat inside.”

  She stalked off and headed to the command vehicle. Once inside, she slammed the door hard enough to shake the entire truck.

  “Follow me,” Ramirez said with a tired sigh. “We have a secondary CV stationed around the corner.”

  “Who did you piss off to get her as a lieutenant?” I asked as we followed him to an identical truck.

  “Remember the black site we discovered a while back?”

  I nodded. The Ferryman, Charon had been trapped in a cell in the detention wing of Haven. We had uncovered a hidden sub-level, which led to a black site. Ramirez reported it to his superiors. Those who were implicated with the secret location were terminated—some permanently. In one stroke, he had single-handedly caused a purge of the NYTF and increased his enemies ten-fold. It catapulted him to director and painted a bullseye on his back.

  “Her father is a prick but he’s solid,” he said as he opened the vehicle doors. “He made sure I came out of that situation intact.”

  “Director is more than intact; you’re running the NYTF,” I said following him in with Monty and Peaches behind me. “Now you owe him. This explains your new lieutenant, but active field duty?”