“You wouldn’t dare, would you?”
“I would,” he said with a devious smile. “Who do you think she would believe?”
I was about to answer when the circle flashed green and the room disappeared.
SIX
We appeared in the subway.
Specifically, we appeared in the tracks of some unused portion of the subway, judging from the debris and trash I noticed scattered all over the tracks. The hot sauna-like feel of the city’s underbelly washed over me, accompanied by the assaulting aroma of old trash and vermin—Eau de Rot.
“This is where you needed to escape to?” I asked, taking in our surroundings. “You needed to leave the comfort of Haven for this?”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Monty answered, looking around and getting his bearings. “This place may look rundown and abandoned—”
“Because it is rundown and abandoned…and filthy. Why are we down here?”
“I told you, insurance,” Monty answered.
“Yes, you mentioned that,” I said. “Insurance from what? Being able to smell properly for the next few months?”
“The smell will pass,” Monty said. “This is essential.” He pointed ahead. “That way.”
Peaches shook his head at the smell and padded silently next to me. I couldn’t blame him; wherever we were, it had been abandoned long ago. I heard the distant sounds of the subway and looked up and down the tracks for the telltale lights of oncoming trains. Everything was dark, indicating that this section of the subway was no longer active.
“If you needed a ride, I could have gotten the Dark Goat,” I said, looking around. “Where are we? I don’t recognize this part.”
“This is an old abandoned stretch of track between Penn Station and Grand Central Terminal,” Monty said, peering into the dim light. “No one really knows about its existence any longer. The entry points have been sealed to the public, and maintenance doesn’t visit often, unless there’s an emergency.”
“Let me guess: there’s never an emergency on this section of track.”
“It would seem that this section of track has escaped most of the normal wear and tear plaguing the city’s Metropolitan Transit System.”
“A plague is what we’ll catch if we stay down here too long,” I said. “This travel insurance you mentioned—what exactly are we getting insured against?”
“I’ll explain later,” Monty said, moving forward. “I do hope I have the right track. It would appear no one has been down here in some time.”
“I can tell,” I said, gazing at the small mountains of trash everywhere. “This is where you want to get travel insurance? Where are we supposed to be going? The Great Dumpster below the city?”
“Some place more dangerous than that,” Monty answered, picking his way around the trash. “Shadow Company has been quite busy since you were retired from their ranks. They have a singular purpose these days. A purpose very few are aware of.”
“Except you, it seems,” I said, trying to follow his gaze as he walked. “What are you looking for?”
“Not a what, but a who, although what may also apply,” he said. “No one really knows their origins.”
“Whose origins?” I said, concerned he really was losing it. “What are you talking about?”
Monty stared at me for a few seconds before walking farther down the tracks.
“I want to assure you, I’m in my full capacities,” Monty said as he walked into the darkness. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m still dealing with some of the effects of the schism, but I’m fine.”
“These effects you keep mentioning, can you elaborate on what they are exactly?” I asked. “You were a little on the vague side earlier.”
“Nothing too serious, really. Enhanced ability, adaptation and regulation of increased power levels. A slight deficiency in mental acuity as I grow accustomed to the knowledge the schism unleashed.”
“A slight deficiency?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“It’s a minor side effect, and it will pass as I assimilate the information.”
“All of that sounds serious, like ‘you should be in Haven under magical supervision’, kind of serious,” I said, concerned. “Monty, we need to go back to Haven—preferably before Roxanne unleashes Paul Bunyan on us. You need to be resting.”
“No,” Monty said, turning to face me. “The best recovery for my condition is to keep my mind occupied, not sitting in Haven until Roxanne deems it safe for me to step outside.”
“Is it?” I asked, keeping my voice calm. “Standing in a dirty subway is part of your recovery?”
“Roxanne means well, but she is operating emotionally, not as a magical professional,” Monty answered. “She cares, and it impacts how she reacts.”
“A magical professional? Are you certain the schism didn’t screw with your mind?”
“Of course it did,” Monty admitted. “I’m not saying it didn’t. I’m saying that I can deal with its effects, and can function despite what I experienced.”
“Roxanne just doesn’t want to see you get hurt; none of us do.”
“I’m fine,” Monty said. “You need to trust me on this.”
“I do. It’s just that I remember your Darth moment. It wasn’t pretty. It looked and felt like you had lost control.”
“So much so that I was still able to restrain myself from attacking you, then managed to assist and intervene on your behalf when you were about to be skewered by Evers. I’d say I managed it well, wouldn’t you? My state of mind is fine.”
He did have a point. If it hadn’t been for him coming back, Evers would have sliced me into little Simon pieces with that blade of hers. He may have been slightly off, but he was still mostly Monty.
Mostly.
“It’s been my experience that those who have to assure others of their state of mind,” I said, “are usually entering batshit crazy territory.” I looked around. “Tell me, Monty, are we entering batshit country?”
“Not in the least,” he said, pointing ahead again. “Trust me, we need to do this and then you can make your call. We have a good fifteen minutes, correct?”
“Yes,
