She gave me a long, hard stare, and then burst out laughing.
“I like him. I can see what Hades sees in him,” she said as she looked down at Peaches. She held out a hand, but he didn’t approach her. She smiled and nodded. “Your bond is strong. He reminds me of my brother, Fenrir, only smaller.”
I put on my best poker face and didn’t answer him. Her ‘brother’ was a monstrous wolf that went around chomping on gods. I didn’t feel the need to point this out to her. I was getting a strong lethal-vibe from her, so I opted for tact. Monty would’ve been proud.
“Thank you for the comparison, Lady Hel. Peaches is a good dog,” I said, rubbing his ears. “Fearsome in battle and in the devouring of pastrami.”
“Peaches?” she said with a chuckle and looked at Ezra. He nodded, and she laughed again before growing serious. “Sadly, I can’t stay. I have pressing matters to attend to. Your presence here means I no longer have to send Cathain after you.”
“After me? Why would you send anyone after me?” I wondered how far I could get before one of the Valkyries stomped me.
Hel smiled at me. It was a killer’s smile. The one you got right before your life was ripped apart, and your broken, lifeless body is lying shattered on the ground. Also the half-blue glowing face was making it hard to think friendly thoughts.
“Hades petitioned me to deliver this token to you. He must hold you in high esteem.”
She motioned with her hand, and the man sitting with the Valkyrie came to our table. He was easily six-and-a-half feet tall and built like a house. When you thought ‘Viking’ this was the image that came to mind.
“Thank you, Lady, but no token is necessary—” I started, but shut up immediately when she raised a hand.
“This is Cathain Grobjorn, brewer of the Odinforce,” she said interrupting me. The way she said his name, it sounded like Kane Groban, with a bunch of r’s sprinkled in for good measure. “He has something for you. You have tasted his brew once before and survived. Cathain, the flask.”
Cathain put a hand over his chest and bowed. “Yes, Mistress,” he said. He pulled out a silver flask covered in glowing skulls and handed it to me. I held it out away from me and unscrewed the cap. I brought it to my nose, took a sip, and nearly lost my mind—it was coffee. Not just coffee, but the coffee. I had smelled this caffeinated ambrosia in Hades’s office. It was in the vial Corbel had given me on Roosevelt Island. This was super coffee on steroids.
“It’s the coffee?” I was incredulous. “How can this be coffee? And it’s hot?”
“No mortal can drink of this brew without facing a painful and sudden death,” she said, looking at me and standing. All of the Valkyries situated around the deli stood simultaneously. “This is the Odinforce, drink of the Valkyries and the fallen of Valhalla. Do you understand?”
I didn’t, but I nodded my head, still in shock. She had just given me a flask full of Valhalla Java. “I understand,” I whispered, holding the flask with reverence. The skulls on the surface coruscated with blue energy. “But this gift is too precious.”
“The flask refills every evening,” Cathain said, touching my shoulder. “Do not drink more than a spoonful at any given time.”
“What happens if I drink more?” I asked, because it was going to be tough to only drink a spoonful of coffee this good.
“Honestly, with you I don’t know,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Increased strength, vitality, alertness, spontaneous combustion—why don’t you try it and let me know? In any case, keep it safe. This is no light thing she has given you.”
Gods and their jokes. Twisted didn’t begin to describe their sense of humor.
Hel turned to Ezra. “I will speak to the All-Father, but he will not be pleased.”
“What do I care for his pleasure?” Ezra said and waved his hand. “His pleasure or lack of it is of no consequence to me. He must act. Remind him that even he will meet with me one day.”
“Very well,” she said with a nod, and disappeared along with Cathain and all the Valkyries in the deli. If anyone noticed, they gave no indication. Business continued as usual. If I weren’t holding the flask in my hand, I would’ve thought I’d imagined the whole thing.
“Ezra, what the hell? Why did she—?”
He waved my question away. “Eh eh shush, you have more important things to be worried about than her. Put that away. You eat first, and then we talk. No good conversation ever came from an empty stomach. What are you eating?”
“I was thinking some eggs—scrambled, maybe some toast, with some fries, and beef sausage. Peaches will have the usual.” I settled into the chair and put the flask in a pocket.
He signaled to one of the waiters, who came over immediately. “Pastrami and eggs for him”—he pointed at me—“and ten pounds of pastrami for the puppy, in his special bowl.”
I didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t an argument I could win. When Death orders your breakfast, you eat it.
“He also happens to be death, as in Death—capital D,” I whispered to Peaches. “Make sure you eat all of your pastrami. Don’t leave any behind.”
Peaches gave me a look and cocked his head to one side.
I was about to answer, when a waiter came out with a large titanium bowl full of steaming pastrami, and put it on the floor in front of Peaches. He smelled the bowl and proceeded to devour the meat. A few minutes later, my plate arrived and I followed Peaches’ example.
“You’re talking to your puppy?” Ezra asked with a knowing smile. “You can hear him now—good.”
“How did you…? Never mind,” I said and kept eating.
“Finish your food.” He looked down and petted Peaches on the head. No one ever touched Peaches while he ate, it was a good way to lose an arm. “The puppy has the right idea.”
“We can’t stay long, Ezra. Monty is—”
“How is Tristan?”
I swallowed the last bite of my breakfast and then spoke quickly. “Not good. He’s in Haven. A Negomancer hit him with an erasure spell, and unless I get help from another mage, he’ll lose his ability to cast magic
“This spell he’s dealing with—it’s not an erasure,” he said, tapping the side of his nose and pointing at me. “He’s mistaken. Trust me, my nose knows.”
“But he said—” I started, but fell silent under his quiet gaze. Ezra had a way of making you rethink your words without saying any.
Ezra looked at me and slowly shook his head. “This Negomancer has underestimated your friend. It was supposed to be an erasure, but Tristan is too strong.”
“What is it, then? The orb Roxanne showed me—she told me the spell would take away his ability to cast.”
“She is mistaken, as is your friend. Sometimes the best action is inaction.”
I sighed. “You sound like Master Yat with this fortune-cookie-speak. Can you just say what you want to say plainly?”
He patted my hand and slapped my cheek—hard. “I just did, but you aren’t paying attention. Tristan will need a focus to work through this. When you see the mage, tell her you need a focus of three woods. She will understand.”
“Of course she will because that is totally clear,” I said, exasperated. I could hear the frustration in my voice but kept it in check, remembering whom I was speaking with. Being immortal was not an excuse to piss off Death.
“It will be to her. You’re worried, this I understand. Family is important.” He stood slowly with a groan. “Some days these old bones make it hard to get around. Simon, you will have to do some difficult things in the next few days. Remember what’s important and you will see this through.”
He shuffled to the back of the deli with a wave, and disappeared.
TWENTY-TH
REE
I jumped into the Goat, opened the window for Peaches in the back, and raced downtown. I understood half of what Ezra told me. What stayed with me was the message I was supposed to give Quan. Monty needs a focus of three woods. I turned the words over in my head, and they still made no sense. I pulled up to the City Hall and parked the car. Our NYTF registration made sure it was never towed. With Monty’s runes, whoever tried would probably regret it.
In front of the stairs leading into the government building stood Cassandra. From her expression, I could tell she wasn’t happy about escorting me. She placed a hand on her holster when she saw Peaches bound up next to me.
“No biting the lieutenant,” I said under my breath as we approached. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Did Ramirez explain what we’re going to do?”
She took a step back, keeping her distance from Peaches.
“Strong,” she said with a quick nod. “He said I’m just here to get you into this ‘Hellfire Club.’ Strictly meet and greet. You need to speak to someone. I get you inside to speak to them.”
I nodded. “It’s going to be a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist of it.” I turned to walk to the rear of the large building. She followed me with a surprised look on her face.
“I thought you were going to City Hall?” she said, pointing to the building. “The station is downstairs.”
“You’re talking about the train station. We don’t need a train. We need a mage. We need to go lower. Under the current station.” We made our way to the black kiosk obscured by trees, which stood about one hundred feet behind the building.
In front of the kiosk stood a woman dressed in a skintight, black-and-white checkered costume. Her face was hidden behind a black mask. The mask was a combination of tragedy and comedy. She bowed with a flourish and twirled the pair of rune-covered tonfas she held when I approached. This was one of the Harlequin—protectors of the Hellfire.
She stood to one side of the large, rune-inscribed circle that rested at the top of the stairs. In order to get into the Hellfire you needed to step in that circle—no exceptions.
“I need to see him,” I said as I stood at the edge of the circle. “Is he in?”
The Harlequin twirled one of her tonfas and pointed at the circle.
“Is there a circus in town I don’t know about?” Cassandra asked as she looked at the Harlequin. “What is she pointing at?”
I had grown so used to seeing runes and magic that I had forgotten it was invisible to most humans. Still, as part of the NYTF, I expected her to have some sensitivity to magic.
“They need to come too. She’s NYTF and he’s with me.” I pointed at Cassandra. “Show her your badge, but do it slowly.”
Cassandra reached inside her jacket pocket and pulled out her badge, showing it to the Harlequin, who nodded and gestured to the teleportation circle. I stepped forward and motioned for Cassandra to stand next to me. Peaches padded over to my other side and I nodded.
The Harlequin slammed both tonfas into the ground, and the circle we stood in flared to life. A second later, we stood at the foot of a flight of stairs that led to a large brass door.
The arch above us read “City Hall” in white tiled letters. The area was brightly lit, with each light fixture holding three lamps. The station was an art deco masterpiece and one of the hidden gems of New York.
Directly above us, embedded into the ceiling, was a large blue circular skylight. On its surface, runes danced and changed shapes. At the foot of the stairs stood two Harlequins, with another matching pair beside the brass door and entrance to the club.
The next second, the nausea hit me, and my breakfast threatened to claw out of my stomach. I hated teleportation. It always had the effect of twisting my insides out. Peaches looked unbothered, but Cassandra was a little green as she leaned against the wall.
“What the hell was that?” she said, clutching her stomach. “Oh, my God, I feel sick.”
“Give it a few seconds, it’ll pass,” I felt queasy myself and didn’t dare to take the stairs yet. “It’s an effect of the spatial displacement.”
She shook her head and stepped away from the wall. “The what?”
“The teleportation messes with your insides, which is why you feel like someone tied your intestines into a knot. Takes getting used to.”
“I don’t ever want to get used to that. Is that it?” She pointed at the brass door, and I nodded. When I felt like my breakfast was safe and secure in my stomach, I took the steps slowly.
“Whatever you see in there, don’t say—or more importantly, don’t do—anything,” I warned when we got to the door. “No one is in danger, and everything that’s occurring is consensual.”
“I wasn’t raised on the moon, Strong,” she said adjusting her holster. “There isn’t much that can shock me at this age.”
“Just remember what I said and don’t overreact.”
I bowed to the Harlequins at the door. They returned the bow and stood at attention. These women weren’t window-dressing. According to Monty, the man I came to see handpicked and trained each one. The Harlequins were accomplished mages and could wield their runed tonfas with deadly efficiency. In other words, if you followed the rules, you left Hellfire alive; if you broke them, you didn’t.
“I need to see him,” I said at the door and then waited. If the symbol that appeared on the door was black, it meant we were denied. No questions asked, no excuses taken, no exceptions. If it was white, we were past the first of three gates.
“What are we waiting for?” Cassandra asked under her breath. “Do you have to make an appointment?”
The symbol on the door flared white, and the door slid away. I exhaled in relief. My “plan B” involved Monty-levels of destruction. We walked down a long, narrow, featureless hallway. At the end of it stood a woman with a crow on her shoulder, and I cursed under my breath.
The second gate was always a god. Sometimes you lucked out and got Eros, or any of the other obscure minor gods, like Philyra—goddess of paper and crafts, who once asked me to make an origami eagle that could fly.
Pantheons didn’t matter in the second gate. Occasionally you would get a heavy-hitter, one of the big names. Then, sometimes, you would get the woman standing at the other end of the hallway. I didn’t know how the Hellfire managed it, but I guessed the gods were bored and this brought them some measure of excitement.
“Who’s that?” Cassandra whispered s she reached for her gun. I grabbed her hand and shook my head. She was reacting to the woman’s presence. It took a few seconds before the lieutenant calmed down. Peaches stood by my side in ready mode but he didn’t seem overly agitated.
We approached the woman and I bowed. The woman nodded at me and cocked her head to one side when she looked at Cassandra.
“Hello, Simon—who cannot be chosen,” she said without taking her eyes off Cassandra. “It warms my cold heart to see you again.”
“Hello, Morgan. The honor is truly mine. You look well.”
“She is human and has no voice here. You will speak for the group, yes?” She dismissed Cassandra with a look and stared at me.
“Yes, I will speak for the group. Please ask your question.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking. Meeting the Morrigan always filled me with dread. Even though I was immortal, and she reinforced it, she always said it as an invitation to find out if it was true.
She was the Celtic equivalent of the Valkyries except she had a few differences. The Morrigan chose the slain, but on occasion, she got her hands dirty and joined in the wars with her chosen. She also fell in love—and it usually ended badly for those warriors. Her question would be one of the hardest, which is why Monty made sure I studied her.
“My question is in three parts since your group is three,” she said with a brief smile and pushed the crow off her shoulder. It vanished in a clou
d of feathers. She was enjoying herself, which was never a good sign.
“I understand.” I took a deep breath. If I failed any of the three parts, she could make any request and we would have to fulfill it—or suffer the consequences.
She raised a finger. “How many times did I appear to my beloved?” She raised another finger. “How did I choose him?” Another finger…“What was his name?”
I gave it some thought and silently thanked Monty for making me read the story of Cu Chulainn several times.
“Four times did you appear to him. You washed his clothes at the fjord. His name was Cu Chulainn,” I said, making sure to answer the questions in the same order she asked them. A right answer out of sequence was still wrong.
She stared at me for a few seconds and then nodded. “Your group may pass, but before you go” —she crouched down to rub Peaches’ ears, looking up at me—“aire a thabhairt do maité, Peitseogach. Remember what is important, immortal.” She transformed into a crow and flapped down the hallway.
It was the second time I’d had heard those words. Peaches gave a rumble in response and the crow disappeared. The wall where she’d stood disappeared too, and I let out the breath I had been holding. One more gate to go as we stepped into the next room.
TWENTY-FOUR
The third gate was the hardest, and I had only passed it last time with Monty’s help. So this time, without him, we were screwed. It was always a magical question and my ability and memory for magic and runes was horrible, no matter what Monty said.
“We may have to improvise on this one, so get ready,” I whispered to Cassandra and kept my hand close to Grim Whisper. Her encounter with the Morrigan had left her shell-shocked. She nodded her head, but I could tell she was having difficulty processing the events. I think the fieldwork was becoming a bit much for her already.
We stood in a large library. Every wall was covered with books and shelves. Spread out around the room were desks and tables with books stacked on them. In the center of the room floated a large blackboard. Around it stood four men and one woman.
Full Moon Howl: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel (Montague & Strong Case Files Book 2) Page 11