Kevin Hearne - Tricked

“No, we have a couple of stops to make first.”

We drove to the Winter Sun Trading Company on San Francisco Street to pick up some necessary herbs, and once I’d blended them and bound them properly, we scooted south of the railroad tracks to Macy’s European coffeehouse on Beaver Street to pick up some hot water for tea and one of their famous San Francisco cappuccinos. I made a large cup of modified Immortali-Tea for Oberon — altered to accelerate healing — and, after one more quick stop at a grocery store, we were ready to visit the vet.

Said vet appraised me accusingly, clearly thinking I must be at least partially responsible for Oberon’s condition. Her name was Dr. April Flores, and I wished we could have met under better circumstances. She was very sharp and I would have enjoyed talking to her about more pleasant things than wounded doggies.

“Your dog is lucky to be alive,” she said. “I haven’t seen trauma like this before. What was he doing attacking a bear anyway?”

I glanced at Granuaile and she shrugged apologetically. It was the best cover story she could come up with, but I thought it was at least somewhat plausible. Except that neither of us looked like we’d been attacked by a bear, so Oberon could hardly have been indulging a protective instinct. And encounters with bears in northern Arizona, while not unheard of, were rather infrequent. Dr. Flores was having trouble swallowing the story, and I didn’t blame her. But it was more believable than the truth.

“Dogs will be dogs,” I said, a meaningless phrase that nevertheless allowed me to avoid lying. I’m not normally averse to lying, but since Dr. Flores was a nice person who clearly loved animals, I was trying to avoid accumulating any more guilt ferrets.

Dr. Flores frowned, fully aware that I hadn’t answered her, but led us to a room in her clinic. “He won’t be able to move for some time. I have the bones set, but those will take a while to heal, especially his shoulder. He also has a punctured lung and a bruised spleen.”

She opened the door and I saw Oberon lying on a table on his left side. His exposed right side was shaved and bandaged; he looked awful. But he saw me and his tail began thumping against the table.

“Hi, buddy. Good to see you.” I entered the room and squatted down so I was eye level with him, putting a paper sack and the tea on the floor underneath his head, just beyond the edge of the table. His eyes followed my hands as they disappeared from his view and then came back up to scratch his head gently. Granuaile and the vet began to murmur behind me about recovery time, but I blocked them out and gave all my attention to Oberon.

Maybe a little something for you .

Former animal, now deceased .

You will have to judge for yourself .

I need to have you drink some tea first .

Maybe smellier than usual .

I snorted and then remembered I wasn’t alone in the room. I looked back at Granuaile and Dr. Flores. “May I have a few minutes with him, please?” I asked.

“Don’t move him,” the veterinarian said. Her eyes dropped down to the bag and added, “And no food.”

“Right,” I said, smiling in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. Granuaile smirked as she exited, knowing full well that I planned to ignore those instructions. Once they were gone, I searched for and found a bowl to pour the tea in.

I need you to drink this, Oberon , I said as I filled the bowl. All of it. It’s important. You’ll get better quicker. How do you feel?

He began to lap up the liquid.

I’m sorry, Oberon, but you have to drink it all .

I have andouille sausage in the bag for you when you’re finished .

Oberon began to lap up the tea with more gusto.

Good. I’m so sorry you got hurt, Oberon. That’s not what I wanted .

That started a tear rolling down my cheek. And I didn’t, because of you. You saved my life. Thank you .

Oh, most definitely. You were at negative sixteen, I believe? Well, now I owe you sixteen sausages .

What kind do you want, buddy? You name it, I’ll go get it. Keep drinking .

The ones you made up a song about?

Oh. I think it went like this:

Oberon finished the tea and I put the bowl down on the floor. How do you feel now? I asked him.

he replied.

I mean physically, Oberon .

That sounds about right. I couldn’t give you much in the way of pain relief, because I don’t know what the vet is going to be doing. But you’re going to be healing now much faster than the vet will expect. Now that your bones are set, you’ll be better in a few days rather than a few weeks, and that pain is going to be all gone .

Yes, he is. Thanks to you, I was able to unbind him and then the ghouls ate what was left. But, look, Leif is no longer our friend. He set that vampire on me and put both you and Granuaile in danger .

Yep. He betrayed us and went to the dark side. So if you smell him or any other vampire coming, you let me know, okay?

I picked up the bag and pulled out an andouille sausage for him, and he whined softly.

You have to take it easy right now , I explained as I fed it to him. The doctor probably has you pumped full of pharmaceuticals and you really shouldn’t have anything .

Can’t help it. You’re the best hound ever .

Oberon’s tail thumped a few times and his mouth partially opened, seeming to smile at me.

I didn’t want to leave Oberon, but there was nothing more I could do for him for a few days; he simply needed time to heal. In the interim, there was plenty for me to do in Kayenta, and I’d promised I’d be back today. The last thing I needed was to give Coyote an excuse to mess with me because I wasn’t holding up my end of the deal.

Before we got out of range of the cell phone towers in Flagstaff, I put in a call to Magnusson and Hauk as we drove north on Highway 89. Hal didn’t want to believe that Leif had set Zdenik on me. His growly voice crackled on the phone, but his skepticism came through clearly.

“That doesn’t sound consistent with his character,” he said.

“He doesn’t have the same character anymore, Hal. Not since he came back from Asgard. Or maybe he’s been playing us all for fools the whole time. That’s possible too.”

“So now he thinks he can retake the state for his own again?”

“That’s what he told Granuaile. But he charmed her first to make sure she’d tell me.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Believe it. Has he been in to the offices?”

“No, he’s been away on leave since he left for Asgard.”

“Well, I tenderly suggest you turn that into permanent leave, and when it comes to my records, he’s no longer my attorney, okay? I don’t want him to have access to my files at all, and I’m telling you right now that if I see him again he’s going to die for real. You can tell him I said so. I’m sorry I ever put him back together in the first place!”

“You know, I have excellent hearing, Atticus.”