Reaping Wind Read online

  Reaping Wind

  A Montague & Strong Detective Agency Novel

  Orlando Sanchez

  Description

  You reap what you sow, and when you sow death...vengeance comes to collect.

  The Dark Council threatens everything Simon holds dear. They want to erase Monty, kill Peaches and remove Simon's immortality—permanently. When Michiko goes missing, Simon realizes there is more at stake than he realizes. When Ken, Michiko's brother asks the Montague & Strong Detective Agency to find her. They must act, before the Dark Council implodes in violence.

  There's only one slight problem...a renegade group of Blood Hunters blames Michiko for the loss of their weapons, one of which is bonded to Simon. They want the blades…and they want revenge.

  Now, Monty & Simon must travel to Japan, find Michiko and stop the Blood Hunters before they eliminate an ancient vampire, without becoming the next target!

  Will they find Michiko in time? Will they stop the Blood Hunters?

  Jump into the next Monty & Strong adventure to find out!

  ONE

  “They that sow the wind, shall reap the whirlwind.”-Hosea 8:7

  Michiko’s brother was in a foul mood.

  “Where is she?” I asked, staring at the angry vampire sitting in front of me. I was aware that even though Ken looked human, he wasn’t. “As in, where is she—now.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Where is she?’” he snapped. “You’re the detective agency—detect.”

  I looked at Ken, and refrained from making one of my usual remarks. He was known for spontaneous violence when irked. He had left irked long ago, and had fully entered pissed off, as waves of barely controlled anger emanated from his side of the room.

  Peaches rumbled a warning under the table.

  Ken took a deep breath and let it out. His usual ‘shades of black’ ensemble was Armani, and leaned more toward the formal side. Tonight, it was a black shirt with red accents and matching tie. The black suit was finished with lightly polished Zegnas—black, of course. All this rested under a black Loro Piana trench coat.

  I guess he figured if he was going to be an unstoppable, efficient, scary-as-hell killing machine, why not dress well? I noticed some of his hair had gone gray, which was impressive considering vampires didn’t usually age. The pressure of leadership and keeping the Dark Council from imploding must’ve been taking its toll. He smoothed the wrinkles from his coat, and placed his carefully manicured hands on the table. In my experience, a vampire’s fastidiousness was only exceeded by mage’s.

  We sat in Ezra’s basement, which was a barely known de facto neutral zone and meeting area in the city. It was used when supernatural heavy-hitters disagreed on something—usually the wiping out of all enemies—and needed to have a meeting of the minds without blowing everything to dust.

  No one would dare attack Ezra, or move against his deli, unless they were looking to shorten their lifespan to ‘immediately deceased.’ It helped that Ezra, short for Azrael, was the angel of Death, with a capital D. I appreciated that he was low-key about his deathliness.

  I glanced at the end of the table where Ezra sat. He wore a pair of half-moon glasses, and peered at me over the lenses. He was dressed in his regular white shirt with black vest, and black pants. His rune-covered yarmulke gave off a faint violet glow, and he rested his hand over a thick book as usual. It was easy to confuse him with an elderly scholar, and not the personification of Death.

  The runes and defensive measures in Ezra’s made the Randy Rump look like an open-air market. Everywhere I looked, I saw symbols, faintly glowing with a spectrum of colors. The energy in the room was palpable without being oppressive, a subtle reminder that enforced diplomacy.

  Beneath the enormous conference table, Peaches was currently reducing the amount of meat in the world, one chomp at a time. Ezra was one of the main reasons my hellhound puppy looked more like an industrial-sized kielbasa instead of a streamlined hellhound of destruction.

 

 

 

  I shook my head. Peaches: Zen Meat Master.

  We were sitting in Ezra’s because Monty was magus non grata in the city with the Dark Council, specifically with the DCE—Dark Council Enforcers. They wanted to have a brief and ultra-violent ‘conversation’ with him about what they thought was his descent into darkness.

  I didn’t currently have the Dark Council or any other enforcement agency after me, but I knew that would be short-lived. I worked with a perpetually angry mage and a hellhound with a bottomless stomach. It was only a matter of time, really.

  “When we last spoke,” I said, “it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.”

  “Are you talking about the small war you two started downtown?” Ken asked. “The kill order she placed on your creature, or the erasure she requested for your angry mage?”

  “All of the above?”

  “The problem is this entropy thing you three have going,” Ken said. “It’s real, destructive, and aggravating my—and the Council’s—lives.”

  “Entropy effect?” I asked. “Sounds contagious.”—I glanced over at Monty.—“He’s probably talking about you.”

  “Chaos is the law of the universe,” Monty answered matter-of-factly. “Perhaps you can clarify?”

  “Spoken like a mage,” Ken said. “You two”—he pointed first at Monty then at me—“are like a butterfly effect, except with massive destruction.”

  “He definitely means you,” I said with a nod. “Butterfly effect sounds like that wiggling thing you do with your hands. I use bullets and blades...not butterflies."

  Monty glared at me. “Rubbish. There is no such effect. And if there were, it would be called the Strong Peaches effect.”

  “I’m noticing the omission of a certain mage,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It really should be called the Montague Peaches effect.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate the recognition and inclusion of your creature.”

  “Oh, ha…ha,” I said. “British humor…got it.”

  “Indeed. Not everyone can appreciate intelligent drollery.”

  “Drollery? Did you just make that up?”

  “Of course not,” Monty huffed. “I speak English, not American.”

  “Are you two done?” Ken asked, his voice laced with frustration. “We have a situation with the war you almost started.”

  “War?” I scoffed. “That was more like a skirmish. Are they still upset about that?”

  “Still upset?” Ken asked as his anger level ratcheted up a few notches. I have that effect on people. “Strong, that was only two weeks ago.”

  “Huh, felt much longer,” I said, shaking my head. “Time flies.”

  “The area is still runically unstable,” Ken said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Which reminds me, Ursula wants a word with the two—three of you.”

  “Bloody hell,” Monty said under his breath. “Are you certain?”

  “Ursula?” I asked, confused. “Ursula who?”

  “How do you think the damage your agency causes gets repaired?” Ken asked. “Not even mages can fix the devastation left in your wake. The Council uses DAMNED.”

  “You use the damned? That sounds a little dark, even for the Council.”

  “I didn’t say the damned,” Ken started. “I said—”

  “Also that sounds like it violates a ton of labor laws. Do the damned have a union? Undead and Damned Local One?”

  Ken just stared at me. I saw him mentally stop himself from shredding me. It was a
n impressive display of restraint.

  “Mage…your patience knows no bounds,” he said after a brief pause. “In any case, I’ll let the mage explain it to you. Do not miss that meeting.”

  “You want Monty to explain something to me—right. That should be fun,” I said, shaking my head. “So, is the Council still hunting us?”

  “The Dark Council doesn’t forget—or forgive.”

  “That right there,” I said, pointing a finger at Ken, “that attitude is the main cause of stress. They need to let it go.”

  “They will,” Ken answered with a smile. “As soon as you’re dead, along with your agency.”

  TWO

  “None of that tells me where Chi is,” I said. “All I need is a location.”

  “She marked you, Strong,” Ken said, exasperated. “How can you be so dense?”

  “It’s a gift,” I said. “Years of advanced snarkery, distilled to its essence.”

  “The mark represents the bond you have.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I said. “That was not consensual.”

  “Stop kidding yourself,” Ken answered. “Of course it was.”

  “What are you talking about? I never—”

  “Your blade,” Monty said. “When you accepted Ebonsoul, you merged energies with your vampire.”

  “Merged energies?” I muttered. “That explains why the bond is so—”

  “Complex,” Monty finished. “The bond of the blade is connected to the energy you and your vampire shared.”

  “She never said anything to me—never explained that.”

  “Would you have understood, had she tried?” Monty asked. “Some knowledge is best—”

  “That’s just it, she didn’t try,” I said. “Half the time I barely understand what you explain—but at least you try to explain.”

  I turned to Ken. “So I’m marked. How does that help me?”

  “The mark goes both ways. She marked you, but the energy flows between the two of you on a constant basis. It’s how she knows where you are at all times. That means you can find her—if you shut up long enough to focus.”

  “At all times?”

  “That bond between you and Michiko,” Ken said, “actually protects you.”

  “And makes him a target,” Monty added. “A high-profile one.”

  Ken looked from Monty to Peaches.

  “He’s a target because you three can’t seem to go one day without massive destruction,” Ken said. “Do I need to remind you that they’re still rebuilding the area downtown?”

  “That wasn’t us,” I answered. “That was Tartarsauce and your people—the Dark Council Enforcers. Can we say, overkill?”

  “They only arrived on the scene because of a certain phone call someone made to the leader of the Dark Council,” Ken snapped, glaring at me. Easily a two on the glare-o-meter. “Let me see if this sounds familiar: He’s lost his mind. I don’t recognize him anymore. Those were the words uttered by a certain immortal detective.”

  “If I had to hazard a guess,” Monty said, glancing my way, “I’d think he means you.”

  “Got it, thanks,” I said, looking at Ken. “I only made that call to deal with a situation your Council refused to see. Plus, the Council threatened my family. No one threatens my family—no one.”

  I returned the glare, pushing it up to three, with an extra dose of ‘Eastwood squint’ to give it the proper menace.

  “What’s wrong with your eyes?” Ken asked. “Why are you squinting—at night?”

  “The Council acts like all we do is destroy the city,” I said, ignoring his remark and letting the anger seep into my voice. “We’ve saved it a few times, too.”

  “Usually because you’re the reason it’s in danger in the first place.”

  “I don’t have anyone after me,” I said. “Your Council is blowing this out of proportion.”

  “You were involved in killing Anastasia,” Ken said. “Weren’t you?”

  “Not just involved. I’m the one who ended her,” I said, hardening my voice. “If I had to do it again—I would.”

  “Did you think the Blood Hunters were going to forget that?” Ken asked. “How do you think they plan on getting their blades back? Asking you nicely? They know you’re bonded to it.”

  “Shit,” I said, grabbing a mug and pouring some Deathwish Extreme into it. Ezra made Deathwish with extra death and added, in my estimation, fatal amounts of caffeine—creating Deathwish Extreme.

  Fortunately, my condition prevented death by coffee. Ezra’s blend was literally not for the weak of heart. He took Deathwish and launched it into the stratosphere of flavor. Only my flask of javambrosia surpassed it.

  “You got that right,” Ken said. “Copious amounts of it.”

  “Does that mean they’re going after Grey Sneakers too?”

  “You mean Grey Stryder—the Night Warden?”

  “That’s what I said,” I answered with a smile. “Grey Schneider.”

  Ken shook his head. Any moment now, I expected him to shatter the table with a fist and storm out of Ezra’s. Well, maybe not shatter—Ezra was sitting at the table, after all—but pound it forcefully enough to crack.

  “The Warden’s bond will be easier to break since he’s not cursed alive. He does, however, have some dangerous associates.”

  “Starting with a certain lizard who keeps trying to corrupt my hellhound.”

  “In any case,” Ken continued, ignoring me, “yes, he is a target, but you seem to be the priority after my sister.”

  “I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy. Why me?”

  “I don’t know if it’s your association with Michiko, the bond you have with the blade, the fact that you killed their leader or, as is the case with many people you interact with, that they find you aggravating and just don’t like you. It’s hard to tell, really. All of those are valid reasons to end you.”

  It was my turn to glare.

  “And the Council’s official position?” Monty asked. “Do they still plan on erasure and extermination?”

  “I thought we were good,” I said. “Hades said we were okay with the Dark Council as long as we didn’t explode anything.”

  “The Dark Council isn’t going to argue with Hades. Officially, you’ve been given authorization to operate in the city.”

  “And unofficially?” Monty asked. “Do they plan to honor the agreement with Hades?”

  Ken shook his head slowly. “They are going to hunt you into the ground,” Ken answered. “Some blame the instability in the Council on you, mage. The others feel this detective agency is more of a threat than the dangers you face and cause.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Maybe we can have a conversation. Help them see reason?”

  “If by conversation, you mean they execute you and your creature, then erase the mage, then yes, they’ll be willing to have this ‘conversation’ with you.”

  “His name is Peaches—not ‘creature,’” I corrected with an edge. “Just like your name is Ken, not ‘bloodsucking idiot.’ One is a name, the other is what you are. Why is this so difficult for people to grasp?”

  “When I gave you the sword,” Ken said, ignoring me again, and looking at Monty, “it wasn’t so you could pass it along. Especially not to a god.”

  “You preferred the Blood Hunters possessed it?” Monty asked. “I’m sure the killing spree Esti and her Hunters would have engaged in would have thinned your ranks considerably.”

  “Blood Hunters,” Ken spat. “They’re the reason Michiko ghosted.”

  “When did they get back in the city?”

  “What makes you think they ever left?” Ken asked. “They want the Blood Blades.”

  He glanced down at Ebonsoul resting in my thigh sheath. The pull to absorb it was stronger these days. I knew I was being stubborn, but I preferred it in a sheath, not floating inside me somewhere.

  “Blood Blades?”

  “I need to go,” Ken said, “before I do something that may ge
t me killed. Like pound your head into the table—repeatedly. Your mage can explain the Blood Blades.”

  “Your restraint is appreciated,” Ezra said, looking up from his book at the end of the table. “Please use the exit to the rear.”

  “I came to inform you…” Ken began. “As long as Michiko is missing, you are in danger. My guess is that she went back to our home in Osaka. We have property there, and Black Blossom in Hokkaido, near the Ioso River, but she never liked Hokkaido. Said it was too remote and lonely.”

  “Osaka, Japan?”

  Ken stared at me for a few seconds. I wondered if I had finally pushed him over the edge. Surprisingly, he kept it together, didn’t tear me apart, and took a deep breath. Ezra was an excellent deterrent to violence.

  “Yes, Strong,” Ken answered with a sigh, getting to his feet and brushing off his perfectly clean coat. “The one in Japan. Go find her. Before the Dark Council rips itself apart.”

  “I’ll find her,” I said as he left Ezra’s.

  THREE

  “How are we going to find her?” I asked Monty. “I don’t care what he said about the mark. I’ve never been able to sense her.”

  “Are you certain you want to find her?” Monty answered. “She will most likely be upset with you.”

  “What if it were Roxanne?” I asked, catching him off-guard. “What if Roxanne wanted me gone and wanted to eliminate Peaches. Would you go after her?”

  “Yes,” Monty said, without hesitation. “If only to find out why.”

  I nodded. “Then you know why I have to do the same.”

  “I do,” Monty said, with a brief nod of his own. “Perhaps we can be prudent about this, considering how many—”

  “First, let me see if this ‘mark locator’ thing works.”

  I closed my eyes, focused, and felt for the connection I shared with Chi.

  “Simon, no!” Monty yelled, but it was too late.

  I released what little runic energy I controlled. The defenses in Ezra’s basement kicked in immediately and with extreme prejudice. The pressure around me felt as though a huge hand had closed around me. I opened my eyes to find myself suspended several feet over my chair, and enveloped in violet light. Monty got up and Ezra placed a hand on his arm.