The Iron Druid Chronicles 6-Book Bundle

by Kevin Hearne

  “They saw me weeks ago, when you were in Asgard, before you faked your death.”

  “I understand that. But when they hear that I’ve died, they’re probably going to wonder where my apprentice is—the one that survived the Baolach Cruatan. They may even want to take it upon themselves to finish your training.”

  “But we just faked my own death,” she protested.

  “No, I didn’t stage that to fool the Fae, because I didn’t know you’d come to their attention yet. Bottom line is, you need to tell me whenever you run into any gods, because you might not be seeing the bigger picture. If Brighid has taken a personal interest in you, she will probably send Flidais to the crime scene and then we’ll be found. Flidais will hunt us down.”

  Granuaile clenched and unclenched her fingers on the steering wheel, obviously distressed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I didn’t accept her apology right away; a bit of extra guilt on this issue would be good for her. I pointed at the iron amulet currently dangling on a gold chain outside her shirt. “Look, have you been wearing that amulet all the time, including whatever sack time you got last night in all that madness?”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “Good. There’s a chance Brighid might not be able to divine your presence if you keep wearing it. It’s not bound to your aura yet, but its close proximity might help quite a bit. And if that does work, she might really believe you’re dead and never send Flidais to look for you.”

  “Or she’ll remember I was wearing it during the Baolach Cruatan and send Flidais anyway,” she replied.

  This made me smile. “That’s the way to think.”

  Granuaile frowned. “Do you seriously think Flidais can track us from my old car to the new car, through the two different restaurants, over to the hotel, then to the hospital and the vet’s, all the way up here to the rez?”

  “I don’t know. But she doesn’t have to do it that way.”

  Her hands left the steering wheel in a gesture of helplessness. “How else would she do it?”

  “You have a marble of turquoise in your pocket.”

  “Oh … she’d just ask Sonora.”

  “And Sonora knows exactly where you are because of that marble.”

  She pouted. “I have to give it up, then?” I nodded and tried not to be distracted by her lips, extended and puckered. I was supposed to be angry with her. “But I can’t just throw it out the window!” she said.

  “I know. Pull over.”

  She obliged and we got out of the SUV. She walked around to my side and I put out my hand, palm up. “Let’s have it.”

  Granuaile reluctantly dug the marble out of her jeans pocket and grimaced. “Can’t I say good-bye first?”

  “We’re on the Colorado Plateau. Sonora won’t hear you.”

  “We’re not going to leave it here, are we?”

  “No,” I said, removing my sandals. “I’ll ask Colorado to return this piece of Sonora through the earth, and then I will explain very carefully that we wish to keep your existence a secret from anyone who asks, especially the Tuatha Dé Danann. Colorado will spread the word to all the elementals worldwide. They’ve been keeping my whereabouts secret for centuries now, so this won’t be difficult.”

  “Does this mean I can’t talk to Sonora now?”

  “Yes, but you can always get a new marble next time you’re down there. And you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him outside of his range, anyway.”

  “Her range.”

  “Hmm? Oh, right. Her range. What were you going to tell me earlier before we got distracted by trust issues?” Granuaile was watching me place the wee piece of Sonora on the ground, a wistful expression on her face. My question caught her off guard.

  “Trust issues?” She looked up with alarm. “You don’t trust me now?”

  “You kept secrets from me. Not personal secrets—keep those all you want. I mean you kept something from me you knew damn well I should have known. And I must assume you convinced Oberon to keep quiet too. There aren’t any laws against suborning hounds, but there ought to be.”

  “Atticus, I’m so sorry!” she said. “I was trying to explain and you cut me off. Will you let me finish?”

  I nodded once. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay, mental gearshift. I was telling you about my stepfather. His name is Beau Thatcher. He’s a giant dick in a suit, and I was thinking about him after I went through the Baolach Cruatan. Before as well, to be truthful. And that’s what I was leading up to. I never told you the complete truth about why I want to be a Druid.”

  “All right,” I said. I clasped my hands together and waited.

  She took a deep breath before continuing. “Basically, I want to be the opposite of him. His nemesis. I want to completely destroy his company and drive him into bankruptcy. He laughs when people get upset at oil spills. He laughed hardest at the Gulf oil spill, because the journalists got shut out, the local biologists were bought out, and the company went on to post obscene profits. Massive die-offs and extinctions in the Gulf and wetlands ruined for decades, and he laughed, sensei.”

  “As you said, he’s a dick in a suit.”

  “But it makes me so angry!” she cried, clenching her fists. Then her voice softened. “Angry enough that it kind of scares me. Don’t you ever get to feeling that way about people like him?”

  “Sometimes. But preventing ecological disaster isn’t a Druid’s primary function, Granuaile. Gaia has outlasted dinosaurs and she will outlast the dicks in suits as well, whatever they do to her. This oil spill or that will be overcome, given enough time. Protecting the earth’s magic is what we’re for. That’s why the Tuatha Dé Danann became the first Druids—it was after that episode in the Sahara that I told you about, when a wizard took the elemental’s power for his own. Gaia recognized that she needed champions among humans to prevent that from happening again. And so the children of Danu were chosen to become those champions. Marbles like these,” I said, pointing to Sonora’s turquoise, “appeared beneath their feet. And when the Tuatha Dé Danann picked up those marbles, the elementals began speaking to them and teaching them and eventually guided them in binding the first human to the earth. But you don’t see the Tuatha Dé Danann jumping around trying to prevent the clear-cutting of the Amazon or the damming of the Colorado River.”

  “Well, why not? Don’t they revere nature? Don’t you?”

  “Of course. They—and I—revere all life. Even if significant portions of that life seem too stupid to live, we have to let them live anyway. Unless they try to directly kill us.”

  Granuaile squatted on the ground beside me and considered the marble. It was an excellent opportunity for me to stare at her without getting caught, so I did. She spoke after a few golden moments of sunlight on a troubled brow. “I think I see what you mean. When Sonora was speaking to me and pointing out the plants and animals that lived along the Verde River, she loved the gnats and the boring little weeds as much as the native trout and the sycamores. She made me love them all too. I wanted to keep them all safe.” She looked up and had one of those teary smiles on her face, and it was ridiculously precious. It quivered and crashed into a sob after a few moments. “I couldn’t do it though. I had to kill this javelina, and I was so mad at the goddesses for making me do it.” She paused, took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But I think I understand the wisdom of that whole process now.” The smile returned, but weaker. “It’s good. You can’t just say the words and be accepted. You gotta have the great responsibility before you get the great power.”

  It was easy to see why she’d passed muster in Brighid’s eyes. With that range of emotion at her command, she would be a fierce protector of the earth—and most likely a badass. The Baolach Cruatan required quick thinking and didn’t allow weapons, so she either killed that javelina with her bare hands or made do with what was around her. Something didn’t add up, however.

  “Look, I’m
glad you had that revelation, but I still don’t understand why you’d refrain from telling me about this—about meeting Brighid and Flidais in particular.”

  “Well, there was so much uncertainty in my mind about what happened. I didn’t know if I’d behaved in a way that would make you proud, and—you know what? It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have done it. You’re completely right, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Apprentices have kept secrets from their masters since the whole system began. It’s an annoying but persistent tradition, and everyone does it. I did it when I was an apprentice. The archdruid beat me bloody and called me a poxy shitweasel, because that’s how he communicated. I’m hoping I don’t have to do that here to communicate how important it is that you never neglect to mention the appearance of a god again. Do I?”

  “No,” Granuaile said, shaking her head. “I am well aware how badly I’ve screwed up, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Considering how brilliant you have been in all other respects, I believe I can do that. And regarding your stepdad, I understand, believe me. If you still want to take down your stepdad’s oil company after twelve years, I’m not going to stop you. It won’t take you long, though. Think of what else you’d like to accomplish.”

  “Right now I’d like to find a safe place for me to finish my training.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’m working on that.” A silent conversation with Colorado sent Sonora’s turquoise into the soil, and Granuaile gave a tiny, wistful “Oh.” Shortly afterward, a new marble arose, a whorled sphere of rough sandstone in a range of earth tones, kind of like a gas giant in miniature.

  “Colorado would like to say hi,” I said, and her face brightened as I picked up the marble. “But no more English. You need to use your Latin headspace for him—I mean, her. I’m holding on to this until you’re ready.”

  Disappointment washed over her features for a moment as I pocketed the marble, but then it cleared away, replaced by determination.

  “I’ll be ready soon, sensei,” Granuaile said.

  I grinned. “I’m sure you will be.”

  Chapter 23

  We stopped to check on the coal mine well before dark this time; it was running again, though not quite at full capacity. Some equipment was still en route, no doubt, but they were determined to scrape out everything they could as soon as they could. Whatever I did today I would most likely have to do again tomorrow, or soon thereafter, and again and again until their costs finally exceeded their profits.

  Corporations might be harder to kill than gods.

  I left Granuaile in the SUV with her laptop and promised to be back in a couple of hours. Security around the mine was beefed up. Dudes in starched uniforms patrolled the gates. They had a dog, and that made me smile. There isn’t a dog in the world who will bark at me if I don’t want him to.

  Camouflage on, I slipped through the entrance and headed for the working machinery. As before, I seized up the engines with a binding that made them useless. After the first one, however, the worker radioed what happened and a signal went out to shut down all machinery immediately, before the strange failure could spread. They seemed to think some exotic additive was being squeezed into the fuel tanks by hippies, because they started to siphon gas out of the tanks, pump in a detergent, siphon that out, and then replace it with new gas. This amused me as I made my way from machine to machine, carefully opening the engine compartments and locking up the cylinders while they were busy worrying about the gas. What would they think happened this time? Would they cling to the same theory, reasoning that they hadn’t caught the sabotage in time, or would they invent new theories?

  I was fairly certain that local environmental activists were going to be questioned about these mysterious machinery breakdowns. The hassle would annoy them, of course, but I wiped away my guilt by imagining that they’d also enjoy the schadenfreude of a coal company losing money. I was certainly enjoying all the cussing they were doing.

  This, I hoped, would be proof enough for Colorado that I was serious about keeping things shut down. Perhaps now he’d work on moving that gold for me and getting me out from underneath Coyote’s paw.

  Chapter 24

  The sun was setting behind the sandstone buttes of Tyende Mesa as we drove up to Coyote’s claim site. Crows scattered at our approach, and I wondered what had attracted them to the area.

  The first hogan was completely finished now in terms of protection, and work had begun on building an administration building for the mine. Coyote was waiting for us and hurried over to say a few words out of earshot of the rest.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Druid. You get all your errands finished?”

  “Yep. If I’m right, those vampires you mentioned should start to disappear.”

  “Huh. That a fact?”

  “Near as I can tell.”

  “Good. And when d’ya think I’m gonna see that gold start to appear?”

  “Still working on that, don’t worry. I don’t suppose you took care of those skinwalkers while I was gone?”

  “Shit no. Ain’t my problem.”

  “Ain’t mine either. The deal was to put gold under this mesa, not make the area safe.”

  Coyote spat on the ground, squinted at me, and repeated himself. “Huh. That a fact?”

  “You know it is.”

  “All right,” Coyote said, seeing that others were approaching. It was Ben Keonie and one of his crew. “My work is done here for today. See you ’round, Mr. Druid. Miss Druid.” He looked into the SUV and realized someone was missing. “Hey. Where’s your dog?”

  “Never you mind,” I said. “Your work is done here for the day, whatever that was. Sweet dreams.” He ignored me and turned to Granuaile.

  “Whatja do, leave that dog back in Flagstaff?”

  “Did you leave us anything to eat in there,” Granuaile replied, pointing at the hogan, “or did you hog it all?”

  Coyote spat again and idly scratched his chest. “So it’s like that. All right. Have it your way. Damn Druids.” He turned and stalked off to a black work truck. I wondered what happened to the blue one he’d had a few days ago.

  The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun sank below Tyende Mesa. Granuaile and I hurried up to the first hogan. Ben Keonie greeted us with a smile, but he and his crew member looked disappointed when they didn’t see Oberon with us. Ben, for his part, had been looking forward to another bout of tug-of-war, and apparently Oberon’s friendly ass-sniffing had made him popular with the entire crew. They accompanied us back to the hogan.

  Racks of bunk beds filled one side of the hogan now. Sophie Betsuie was lying in one, eyes glued to an e-reading device of some kind, but she looked up long enough to wave at us.

  There was a standard fire in the middle of the room; the lava rocks were gone. Frank Chischilly sat on a metal folding chair on one side of a card table, reading the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe by the light of a kerosene lantern.

  He saw me looking at the book and said, “Guess I can’t get enough spooky shit right now, heh heh.” He slipped a bookmark between the pages and closed it, rising to meet us, hand outstretched to shake. “How ya doin’, Mr. Collins, Miss Collins.”

  We settled at the card table with him and Granuaile said, “It’s starting to look a bit homey in here.”

  “It’s a bit more comfortable,” Frank agreed, nodding. “Going to enjoy it while we can. We start the Blessing Way tomorrow on the second building.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the unfinished structure.

  “Had any trouble from the local wildlife?” I asked.

  Frank knew what I meant and shook his head. “Not for us. I heard that some climbers disappeared up on the mesa yesterday, and I doubt we’ll ever find ’em. The skinwalkers showed up and spent some time issuing threats last night, but they didn’t try nothin’. This hogan is totally protected now. They can’t get at us in here.”

  “Those sound like fa
mous last words,” I said.

  Frank chuckled hoarsely. “They do, don’t they? I’ve always wanted to say somethin’ good when I go. Like ‘Free Leonard Peltier!’ or ‘I’ve got your boarding school right here!’ ”

  We chatted amiably for a few minutes before Frank suggested a card game to pass the time. “You know how to play pinochle?” he asked.

  “Sure do,” I said. “Learned how when I was in Ohio one time.”

  “Teach me?” Granuaile asked.

  “Me too,” Ben chimed in. He grinned at Granuaile, perhaps to reassure her that she wouldn’t be the only newb at the game. Or perhaps he was smiling because she had the same effect on him that she did on me, and on most men. He offered to grab us a drink out of a cooler nearby and we thanked him. I surreptitiously waggled my eyebrows at Granuaile and she muttered at me through clenched teeth.

  “Shut up, sensei.”

  Ben heard it and asked, “Why do you call him sensei if he’s your brother?”

  “Oh,” Granuaile said, startled to be reminded of our assumed roles, then covered admirably with the truth. “He’s teaching me martial arts, and so I call him that to keep from descending into sibling rivalry. It goes easier when I think of him as the instructor, you know?”

  Ben nodded. “Makes sense,” he said, handing us each one of those canned iced teas.

  We had the first hand dealt, I’d won the bidding, and I was just about to name diamonds trump when the torn-metal scream of a skinwalker startled us. Ben managed to spill tea on himself, and he started cussing but choked that back at the sound of a thunderous impact and cracking, splintering wood coming from the west, where the new admin building sat unfinished. The sounds of destruction continued as I rose to walk to the west wall. I put my face up to a log and held it there, then concentrated on unbinding the cellulose in front of my right eye for a short time. The wood obediently compressed and parted to create a peephole for me—it was sort of like the opening credits of a James Bond movie, except that I didn’t get to look at provocative silhouettes. I cast night vision and saw the blurring shape of one skinwalker going Hulk on the construction materials. He couldn’t touch us inside the protected hogan, but everything outside had become fair game. He’d have those logs split up into kindling in no time. Where was the other skinwalker though?