Kevin Hearne - Hexed

As we returned inside, Hal to answer the door and I to put on a shirt, I gave Oberon his instructions. You’d better just hang out in back while we deal with this , I told him. Pretend you’re ultra-docile and stupid. If anyone addresses you, wag your tail weakly but don’t move .

Well, you can shy away from his touch, but definitely don’t bark or growl or bite anybody .

Struck by inspiration as I rifled through my shirt drawer, I picked out an old anime shirt with lots of pointy noses, large eyes, and giant swords on it. Put it on, and instant nerd!

Lots of men with suits were in my living room when I emerged from my bedroom. None of them had ever seen me before or knew what I was like, so I could play a part and get away with it.

“Dude! What the hell? Who are you guys?” I said, automatically lowering my IQ to everyone assembled.

“Atticus, these are the police,” Hal said.

“Atticus O’Sullivan?” a tall sandy-haired man in a green shirt and silk tie stepped forward with his ID out. “I’m Detective Kyle Geffert with the Tempe Police. We have a warrant to search your house for any swords you may have, as well as any blunt weapons such as baseball bats.”

His name rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. “Oh, cool,” I said. “I hope you find my sword, because I’ve been looking for it.”

“You lost your sword?”

“I guess so, dude.” I shrugged. “I don’t know where it is.”

“So you admit that you own a sword?”

“Well, yeah, if I could find it. I’m training to become a ninja.” The detective blinked and looked over at Hal to see if I was pulling his leg. Hal was completely stone-faced, even nodding slightly in agreement with my story.

“How long have you been missing your sword?”

“Well, I think I lost it last night.”

“Interesting. I see you have both your ears,” Geffert observed.

I flicked my eyes uncertainly between him and Hal. “Um, thanks? And … so do you?”

“We’ve had reports of a man who’s missing his right ear riding around Tempe with a sword.”

“Really? Whoa. Guess that dude shoulda been more careful with his sword, eh?” I chuckled a few times at my own lame joke but looked down meekly when no one laughed. “Sorry. Nobody ever thinks I’m funny.” Suited men were looking underneath furniture and behind picture frames to see if any swords were concealed there. One of them reported that he’d found a large assortment of edged and blunt weapons in my garage.

“Any swords?” Geffert asked.

“Not yet, just knives.”

“Keep me posted.” He turned back to me and asked, “Mr. O’Sullivan, would you mind telling me where you were last night?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Hal interjected.

“Nah, it’s okay,” I told Hal, and then I said to Geffert, “I was chillaxin’ with my girl and my pooch. We were hittin’ baseballs in the park, and I took my sword off so I could swing away, you know? But damn if some douche didn’t come by and jack it when I wasn’t looking. I was goin’ apeshit, dude, and I’m still pissed. If I ever catch who did it, he’ll have to deal with my kung fu.”

“I thought you said you lost your sword. Now you say someone stole it?”

“I might be remembering it wrong. I do that sometimes. I lose time when I’m in a ninja trance, and I don’t recall doing things.”

The detective’s mouth opened a bit, and he stared at me as if I were a talking slime mold. I looked down and shuffled my feet a bit. “Or maybe it was all those drugs I did when I was younger. Sometimes I black out.”

Geffert nodded slowly and looked at Hal. Then his eyes abruptly narrowed and he asked, “Mr. O’Sullivan, what do you do for a living?”

“Ninja training.”

“That’s your source of income?”

“Oh. No, I own a bookstore.” This guy had to know who I was already. Since Hal and I were suing the Tempe Police Department for shooting me last month—an unpleasant episode that was entirely Aenghus Óg’s fault—there was no way they got a warrant to come in here without very carefully reviewing everything they had on me.

“Would you say your bookstore is a successful enterprise?”

I ignored him and let my eyes lose focus at a point over his right shoulder.

“Mr. O’Sullivan?”

“Huh? What, dude? I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”

Geffert spoke slowly to make sure I understood. “Do you make a lot of money at your bookstore?”

“Oh. You’re talking about Benjamins. Yeah, dude, I have plenty.”

“Enough to pay for very expensive lawyers?”

“Well, duh,” I said, pointing at Hal, “he’s standing here, isn’t he?”

“Why does a bookstore owner need lawyers like Magnusson and Hauk?”

“Because Tempe cops keep shooting me for no reason and searching my house for shit I don’t have, and then they act all surprised when I actually have both my ears.”

That made the detective clench his jaw for a moment, but to his credit, he didn’t respond. He served up another question instead. “You mentioned playing baseball with your pooch. Would this be an Irish wolfhound?”

“Yes, but it’s not my old one. He’s still lost or run away or whatever. This is a new one. Just got him a couple weeks ago—he’s all registered and got his shots and everything.” I had done precisely that to sell the fiction that my old dog was really a new dog. Again, thanks to Aenghus Óg, Oberon was wanted for a crime that should have been laid at Aenghus’s door. Luckily, it’s far easier to get a new ID for a dog than it is for a person. Bureaucrats at Animal Control don’t suspect people of getting fake IDs for their pets. They take your form and your check and give you a shiny set of tags for the collar, and that’s it.

“Where is he?” Geffert asked.

“In the backyard.”

“May I see him?”

“Sure, whatever, dude.” I waved at the back door, and Geffert walked through it to see this new dog of mine.

The Man is coming. Remember, you’re a meek little guy, turbo-tame .

I peered out the kitchen window to see Geffert approaching Oberon, and my hound was as good as his word. His tail twitched hopefully on the ground, he ducked his head, and then he turned over on his back, presenting his belly and neck with his front paws hanging limply near his chest. This couldn’t possibly be the man-eating animal the police were looking for in connection with a park ranger’s death.

Wow, what a performance! Where did you learn to do that? Oberon usually squirmed around during his belly rubs, and he sometimes closed his mouth gently over my arm. He never stayed that still and passive, believing as he did that belly rubs should be an interactive experience.

Geffert didn’t rub Oberon’s belly at all. He just squatted down to check the tags on his collar to confirm that they were recent. He stood back up and looked speculatively around the yard.

Geffert started pacing around the herb garden, looking closely at the ground to see if any of it was recently disturbed.

Like what? I don’t know if I can top your Oscar-winning performance .

Hal stepped up next to me with an update on the search. “They’re being much more polite this time, putting everything back once they move it. He hasn’t mentioned removing you anywhere for questioning yet, so I don’t think he will unless they find a sword.”