Kevin Hearne - Hunted

“Gods below,” I whispered. “What in nine hells was she thinking?”

“Who is it?”

“I can’t…” I trailed off, my mind spluttering to a halt like an AMC Gremlin. Granuaile paused the boat in the river, using the binding Manannan had taught us. She let me stare for a while to get my thoughts in order before she asked again.

“Atticus? Who is it?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t know how this is going to go. I mean, now that I see him there, of course I need to get him out, but it might turn out to be a terrible idea. Or a great idea. Depends on whether he wants to help us or not. But if it winds up being a terrible idea, I don’t want you involved. It’s safer that way.”

Granuaile crossed her arms. “No. That’s not going to fly. I can take care of myself, as you well know. Tell me who it is.”

“You misunderstand. I know you can take care of yourself, and I’m not worried about that at all. I’m more worried about you killing him than the other way around. He’ll say something atrocious and you’ll have no choice but to destroy him. No, I’m sorry. This is a private matter, and I’m going to keep it private until I know his state of mind.”

Granuaile cocked an eyebrow and bobbed her head at him. “You can’t tell his state of mind by looking at him?”

I gazed at his snarling expression again. “It’s not as easy as you might think,” I said. “He kind of looks like that all the time. That could be joy we’re looking at. I simply don’t know.”

We returned to shore and found Goibhniu at his smithy, working on a personal project. Swirling rods of wrought iron outlined a threatening figure with flowing black hair.

“Is that…?”

“The Morrigan,” Goibhniu said. “Aye. Me mum isn’t too happy about me makin’ a memorial, but she can get stuffed. The spirit feckin’ moves me, y’know. The Morrigan gave me nightmares all the time, but I already miss her. Gonna put rubies in the eyes and enchant Fae lights behind ’em to make ’em glow.”

“Outstanding.”

“Kind of you to say.” He removed his goggles, wiped his hands on a cloth, and came over to shake my hand with a smile on his face. “Good to see you alive, Siodhachan. Heard a bit about that business with the Olympians, owing to your friend there.” He nodded to indicate Granuaile and then turned his grin on her. “Hello, you. And, Oberon, it’s always a pleasure.”

Oberon barked and wagged his tail as Goibhniu rubbed his head.

“Looks like you’ve healed up well,” he said to Granuaile, then included me with his next sentence. “Will ye be havin’ a beer with me? There’s a lot of rumors swirlin’ round about what exactly happened, but I’d like to hear it from you, and, besides, we have business to discuss.”

He must mean the bounty on the vampires. “That would be wonderful.”

“Delighted,” Granuaile said.

“Brilliant. Don’t worry, Oberon,” Goibhniu said, “I have something proper to eat over there too.”

We followed Goibhniu out of his smithy to his brewery and taproom next door, which was decorated in dark wood and brass. There were a few Fae hanging out inside, but they exited quickly after they saw me. I shared a condensed and edited version of our escape from the Olympians while Goibhniu pulled draughts for us and ladled out some bowls of lamb stew from the kitchen. We three ate at a booth, while Oberon ate his behind the bar. I finished with the uneasy truce struck with Zeus and Jupiter, as we sopped up the remainder of the stew with some bread.

Goibhniu shook his head in wonder and raised his glass. “ Sláinte, laddie. I love the way you make everybody dance.”

We clinked glasses and then I said, “What do you know about Zealot Island?”

The smith blinked. “I know it’s feckin’ tough to get anybody off it once they’re on.”

“Why?”

“Time moves so slowly there that when you swoop in to pluck them out you’re likely to break their bones. Some o’ them haven’t blinked in hundreds of years.”

“So why put anyone there?”

“We only put assholes there, until I could figure out a way to get ’em out safely.”

“Oh, so you can get them out?”

“Wait. Are you saying you killed a bunch of people to experiment?” Granuaile asked at the same time, a hint of outrage in her tone. Goibhniu answered her rather than me.

“Well, yeah, but, like I said, they were assholes. Vikings, mostly, what were going around raping and pillaging the Irish coast back then. But, come to think of it, we’re still putting assholes there. Only now we can get ’em out without killing ’em. Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” I asked.

Goibhniu shrugged. “It’s a tricky business. Have you been out there and seen the rig I set up?”

Thinking of the bizarre machinery erected over the island, I nodded.

“Well, I can snatch ’em out with that. The time bubble has a low ceiling. We sweep what amounts to an ultra-soft mattress in behind ’em and then scoop ’em up. Thing is, you’re practically guaranteed to break their legs, because we hit them first to make ’em fall backward and usually they have their legs locked up. Sometimes we get additional breakage, but it’s hardly ever fatal anymore.”

“Can you get someone out for me?”

“Who?”

I shot a glance at Granuaile, who was listening intently. “I’d rather not say,” I replied, “but he was left there by the Morrigan.”

Goibhniu’s eyes rounded. “She said someone would come asking about that someday, but I never thought it would happen now. And I certainly didn’t think it would be you.”

“Do you know the person I’m talking about?”

“No, I don’t. She only told me that she left someone there and that far off in the future somebody—not her—would ask to get ’im out. She paid me in stupid huge pots of gold to get this guy off the island and make sure he healed up all right.”

“But you don’t know who it is?”

“Nope. She said whoever asked about it would identify him.”

That gave me pause. Considering how long ago she must have put that man on the island, she had been flirting with the idea of her own death for a very long time. Or she had divined some purpose for him far beyond his own era.

“All right, I need you to go around to the north side and look for an old man in winter clothes pointing at the shore in mid-shout. Can’t miss him. Epic eyebrows. That’s the guy.”

“Done,” Goibhniu said. “Or it will be in a couple of weeks. Takes that long.”

“Good enough,” I said. “What news from the yewmen?”

“Ah! I’m thinkin’ we need another beer for that. This is good.” He collected our glasses and went back to the tap and checked on Oberon, who had fallen asleep behind the bar after wolfing down his lamb stew.

“You heard what they did the first night, right?” the god of brewing said as he deposited the old glasses in the sink and fetched some fresh ones. “Took out every vampire in Rome. It was a sort of cooperative enterprise from several different pods. They split up from there and took a day to find new targets. Meantime, the rest of the world’s vampires wake up at night and some of them realize that they’re hearing nothing from their leaders. A few go to find out what’s happened, and then it’s chaos. Lots of different reactions. Some are battening down the hatches and increasing security until they know more. Some are sending minions to Rome to seize the city for them and take control. Others are claiming that fighting over Rome is a moot point, as it’s no longer the center of vampiric power—which is a fair point—and then they claim that their city should be the new capital, or whatever you want to call it.”