Kevin Hearne - Tricked

I waited for her to tell me I was selfish and irresponsible, or that I was the most epic deadbeat dad ever. I searched for signs that she was thinking it. Aside from looking a bit sad, her face was inscrutable; I lost some time as I focused on the freckles high up on her cheeks, and they blurred out and went wonky, the way things do when your eyes wonder what the hell you’re doing. She kept her gaze focused on the road, lost in her own thoughts.

“Ten years later I returned,” I continued, as if I hadn’t paused and stared at her for three minutes. “Though I took care to go in camouflage. By listening and inference, I learned that Odhiambo was dead, as were several others. They’d committed suicide, Granuaile. Couldn’t stand the thought of aging. And they were angry with me for leaving — not because they missed me, but because they missed my miracle elixir.”

“Well, that’s just …”

“Yeah. One of my daughters was out alone collecting roots, and I showed myself to her so that we could talk and catch up. At first she was glad to see me, but when I made it clear I wasn’t staying or reversing their aging, she turned sullen and never smiled. She made no inquiries into my welfare, and perhaps I deserved that. But then I learned I was commonly cursed by my own family, as was Tahirah, for together we had ruined their paradise on earth, their own land of ceaseless summer.”

Granuaile shook her head slowly and frowned, her judgment clear, but said nothing.

“That was when I decided I would never share Immortali-Tea with anyone again. To my children and grandchildren, I was nothing more than a tit engorged with the milk of eternal youth, and while I had Tahirah by my side, I’d been willing to ignore that unpleasant reality. It made me wonder, though, if perhaps that was all I had been to her as well. I don’t know now if she ever loved me, you see? Perhaps she only loved being young and keeping her kids young once they reached adulthood. I tell myself no, there was no way she could have fooled me like that for two hundred years, what we had was real — but the doubts won’t go away. There will always be a blemish on the memory.”

“Don’t doubt it, Atticus,” Granuaile said. “Never doubt that she loved you.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I—” She stopped abruptly, unsure of how to continue. Her hand flailed at the air to brush that attempt away, and then she began again. “Because you’re right. She couldn’t have faked it for two centuries. Nobody could. You would have seen it in her eyes if she was faking, but you never saw that, did you? You said yourself you found peace in her eyes. I know it turned to shit eventually — if there’s anything I learned from studying philosophy, it’s that everything turns to shit — but you had two hundred years of bliss before that, and you might be the only guy who ever got that. Ever.”

That was a comforting way to look at it, and I nodded to indicate that she’d made a good point.

We exchanged one of those cheerless, halfhearted, tight-lipped smiles where your eyes apologize for the past and your upturned mouth indicates hope for a better future. It’s an odd way to reassure someone, but somehow it seems to work across cultures and outlast dynasties. It works well in the cab of an SUV too.

After a few more miles of silent driving, Granuaile opened her mouth to speak, made a tiny noise, and then closed it again. Uncertainty.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I have something to share with you, but I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“No one ever wants their sensei to be angry with them. It tends to lead to dire punishments, like being forced to read Candide .”

She smiled nervously, unsure if I was joking. “Right. Well. In the interest of not hiding anything …”

“Yes?”

“My stepfather is an oil executive in Kansas.”

“I know, you’ve mentioned it before.”

“I hate him,” she spat, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“I had surmised as much. Where’s the hidden part?”

“While you were in Asgard, I underwent the Baolach Cruatan .”

That got my attention. The Baolach Cruatan was a test of courage and cunning administered to new initiates by elder Druids, and not everyone passed. Those who failed died. I hadn’t been sure when or even if it would happen to her, but the fact that she was sitting next to me meant she’d passed it. “Congratulations on your survival,” I said. It was a practice of Druidry that had made Saint Patrick’s job of converting the young much easier; as far as initiation ceremonies go, a short dunk in some cold water was a much more attractive option than an uncertain trial in which you would undoubtedly be scared shitless and perhaps die. “Who tested you?”

“Flidais and Brighid.”

“Both of them? You saw them both?” Breakfast with Coyote hadn’t been her first meeting with an immortal after all. Granuaile nodded.

“Wait,” I said, a spark of irritation flaring at her for the first time in my memory. “Two members of the Tuatha Dé Danann visited you and you failed to mention this to me? Did you not think it was relevant somehow?”

“I was ashamed because of what happened—”

“Okay, stop right there,” I said. “I don’t care what happened, because the fact is, you survived. The mistake you made was letting your emotions dictate this choice not to tell me of it. I just got finished working out a scheme with the Morrigan to fool the Tuatha Dé Danann into thinking I’m dead, and now you tell me they’ve seen you?”

“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?”