Walking The Razor: A Montague & Strong Detective Novel

given and a radical choice is made,” Ezra said, tapping his nose lightly. “One that alters the course of that life.”
“A ‘fork in the road’ kind of thing?”
“That’s a simple way to see it. Think more along the lines of a pivotal choice that impacts a timeline,” Ezra answered, tapping the book beside him. “You can’t stop the flow of time, merely divert it…like a river.”
“Rivers can be dammed,” I said, thinking I was clever. “We can stop the flow of a river.”
“Rivers are diverted. A dam without maintenance is called rubble.”
“So we can’t stop time, just like we can’t stop rivers?” I asked. “Merely divert or alter the course?”
“Eventually, rivers return to their natural course,” Ezra answered. “The same with time; you only have the illusion you can stop time.”
“Does that mean Monty has to go through this?”
“Right now, he is standing in the schism, this fork you mentioned—walking the razor,” Ezra said, holding out a hand perpendicular to the table, as if about to shake hands. “If he slips”—he turned his hand palm down—“he could slip into full darkness. Does that mean he becomes evil?”
“Yes,” Jessikah said quickly. “Slipping into darkness will only result in his becoming evil. He will surrender to his base nature and destroy everything and everyone around him.”
Ezra gave her a gentle smile as I stared at her in disbelief.
“The brashness of youth is only exceeded by its limited perspective on the deeper aspects of life,” he said. “Not everything is so neat and tidy as good and evil, or light and dark. Despite what the elders at the Black Orchid believe. This world is full of gray, which, if you want to help Tristan, is where you need to go…to Grey.”
Jessikah looked confused. I was really starting to worry about my exposure to mages, because I understood what Ezra was trying to share with her, and where he was sending us.
“Don’t you have some ‘stay away from darkness’ rune I could use?” I asked, really not wanting to go see Grey. “Something in an easy-to-use form, like a hammer. Then I could just tap Monty on the forehead with it.”
“No,” Ezra said with a small chuckle. “You need to see Grey.” He pointed at Jessikah as he stood. “This one needs to meet a dark mage who isn’t trying to kill her, and you need to find out where Tristan has gone. He can help.”
“He means Grey Stryder?” Jessikah asked. “I’m not authorized to…”
Ezra and I both looked at her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and continued her salad. “Habits.”
“Will Grey know where Tristan is?” I asked, dreading the visit. “Maybe I could just call him?”
“He will know where to point you,” Ezra said, grabbing his book. “He may even be able to help with your confusion.”
“Confusion?” I said, confused. “I’m not confused.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Ezra said as he shuffled off. “Please enjoy the meal. Give my regards to Grey, and tell him he needs to pay me a visit.”
“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that.”
Ezra headed off to the kitchen with a wave.
“Am I supposed to finish this entire forest?” Jessikah asked, looking down at her plate. “It feels as if there’s no end to it.”
“It’ll sustain you,” I said, after taking another bite of my sandwich. “We may not get another chance at food this delicious for some time. Especially if we’re going to go see Grey.”
“Why? Does Grey live in a wasteland where food is difficult to locate?”
“No,” I said. “I have a feeling Ezra wants us to go see Grey for…reasons.”
“Reasons?” she asked. “That makes no sense.”
“Welcome to my world,” I said, removing the bread from my sandwich and placing it on the table. “I moved into the state of confusion long ago. You get used to it. Right now, we need to go see Grey.”
“What are you doing?” she asked when she saw me dismantle my sandwich. “Is that how you eat your food? By deconstructing it?”
“I’m cheating,” I said, taking my plate and placing it down near my ever-vigilant hellhound, who proceeded to disappear the remaining pastrami. “Sorry, he doesn’t eat salads.”
She glared at me as I produced an empty plate a few seconds later. She pushed her plate forward, shaking her head.
“This is impossible,” she said. “Does he always serve you this much?”
I nodded.
“Let’s go,” I said, getting up. Peaches shook his body, nearly tipping the table over as he joined me. “Eyes front. Don’t engage the natives. They saw us at Ezra’s table, which should keep them calm…for now.”
“Is he really the Death?” Jessikah asked under her breath. “He just seemed like a pleasant, but quirky, old man.”
“He is…until he isn’t.”
“Pardon?” she said, as we headed to the door. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“He’s Death, capital D,” I said. “Why don’t you ask him to show you next time?”
She shuddered in response.
“No, thank you. I think I prefer the old-man disguise.”
“Most do,” I said, opening the door. “Let’s go see Grey.”

SEVEN
We arrived at the Dark Goat only to be met by a reception party of three.
They were looking particularly scowly and self-important, sizing us up—well, Jessikah, actually, like something out of a strange version of West Side Story. Any second now, I half expected them to break into song and dance with a rendition of “When you’re a mage, you’re a mage to the end.”
I chuckled to myself at the image, which only made Jessikah glance at me, probably questioning my sanity. She quickly turned back to focus on the reception party.
They were low-level mages, judging from the energy signatures, and were giving Jessikah some hard stares, barely acknowledging my presence. I almost felt insulted. Not even my hellhound got a second glance. Peaches always got a second glance. Sometimes even a third.
They were either clueless or suicidal. No one ignored a hellhound…for long.
These three were doing their best to be imposing. They were dressed in typical mageiform: black suits with the black ensemble to go with it. The only difference was that I was used