Kevin Hearne - Hammered

“Howdy, Mr. Druid,” he said. “You ain’t still mad at me, are ya?” His manner suggested that he really didn’t care if I was mad or not. He was referring to the way he’d tricked me—even threatened me—to secure my aid in attacking a fallen angel from the Fifth Circle of hell. He spoke in a slow, dry rumble tinged with amusement, and I tailored my voice to suit his manner of speech.

“Naw, I’ve mellowed out a good deal in the past few weeks.”

“Figured you would. How’re you, Oberon?” He squatted down on his haunches and beckoned to my hound. Oberon bounded over to him and wagged his tail enthusiastically.

Coyote laughed, able to hear Oberon’s thoughts as clearly as I did. He petted Oberon with both hands, running one hand along his back and massaging his throat with the other. “I’m sorry, Oberon, I didn’t have time to stop without makin’ Mr. Druid wait. Who’s your lady friend?”

“My apprentice,” I explained. “She’s busy talkin’ to Sonora right now. We should prob’ly let ’er have a good gab. Wanna take a short walk?”

“Sure, Mr. Druid, that’d be fine with me.” He rose from his squat and the two of us walked south, where our conversation wouldn’t distract Granuaile. Oberon trailed behind and snuffled happily at the cacti and creosote.

“I’m in need of your special talents,” I told Coyote, and explained to him what the immediate future might hold for me in Asgard.

He chuckled. “I was wonderin’ when you’d turn to sooee-cide,” he said. He turned his head and spat. “Takin’ on the Norse. You’re crazier than a pink-eyed parrot.”

“Well, maybe only crazy like you,” I said. “This deal I have in mind might work out pretty well for both of us.”

“A deal, huh?”

“Think of it as a trade, if you like.”

“A trade?” Coyote’s grin became feral, and a light sparkled in his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to resist now. He’d bargain until he thought he had the better of me, all the while protesting that I was robbing him. After I proposed the deal, he fell down laughing and clutched at his gut, howling while tears streamed from his eyes. But once I could get him to speak again, we negotiated in earnest until we shook hands on it.

“Meetin’ up with you is always interestin’, Mr. Druid,” he said. “I’ll stick around in this area ’til you get back. Unless you don’t come back.” He looked down at Oberon. “An’ next time we meet, I’ll make sure to have a bag o’ those chicken apple sausages you like so much.”

With one final wave, Coyote dissolved back to his canine form and trotted off to the east from whence he came. Oberon and I returned to check on Granuaile, who was rising from the ground and brushing dirt off her knees.

“How’d it go with Sonora?” I asked.

She was glowing with childlike giddiness. “So awesome! She’s given me a big job to do, but I can’t wait, because it needs to be done.”

“What is it?”

“I’m to get rid of all the crayfish in the East Verde River.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You weren’t kidding. That’s a pretty big job.” Crayfish were a nonnative invasive species that were slowly killing off the native fish and frogs in the river by eating their eggs and competing for food. “How are you going to be sure you get them all?”

“Sonora’s going to guide me—She’ll show me where they are and teach me about her ecosystem, how the species and plants are bound together. I can’t wait.” She hopped up and down and clapped three times in glee. “It’s true that the earth is alive . I never knew it could be like this, sensei. Is there like a hierarchy of elementals or something?”

“Yes, there is. Thought you’d catch on. Where would you put Ferris in that hierarchy?”

“Lowest level.”

“That’s right. He’s the avatar of a mineral. Tremendously limited in what he can do, but within his limits he’s supreme. And since iron is so darn handy, it’s good to make friends with iron elementals—but you’re never going to need to call up a beryllium elemental, for example, or a molybdenum one. They’re out there but they’re not hanging by the phone, if you know what I mean. Sonora’s at the next level, and his kind are the kind Druids are supposed to protect. They’re avatars of a regional ecosystem, and they have massive power but they’re also vulnerable to human stupidity. Whenever we draw power from the earth, we’re drawing on them, if you see what I mean.”

“What’s above them?”

“The tectonic plates. They’re literally below the ecosystems, but in terms of hierarchy they’re the next step up. It’s best not to piss them off. You won’t have much contact with them. After that you have Gaia herself.”

“Wow. What’s she like?”

Her smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling back as I said, “Patient. Kind. Much more difficult to talk to. I think it’s good that Sonora has entrusted you with that crayfish business and that he’s so willing to talk with you.”

“ She is so willing,” Granuaile said pointedly.

“Okay, she, ” I agreed, and shrugged my indifference. “It’ll be good for you to be out of town for a while. You should take Oberon with you; he’ll love hanging out by the river instead of being trapped with Mrs. MacDonagh’s fearless cats again.”

I want you to keep an eye out, okay? Patrol while she’s busy, warn her when anyone approaches. She hasn’t developed a proper sense of paranoia yet .

“That would be fine, except he’ll be kind of squished in my tiny little car,” Granuaile said.

“Right. Let’s head back into town and stop by the bank. I’ll get you some cash; you can use it to rent a truck, and you can go get some camping gear and some giant paint buckets to put the crayfish in.”

“Sweet!” Granuaile said, and the three of us piled back into her small Chevy.

Oberon said.

Don’t go running off and making her worry. We’ll go hunting together when I get back, just you and me .

I’m thinking the San Juan Mountains in Colorado .

“After you’re finished,” I told Granuaile as we cruised back to town on the Bush Highway, “just bring Oberon over to the widow’s place. I’ll stop by there this afternoon and let her know that you’ll be coming.”

Granuaile was all bubbles and excitement over her new mission, and it recalled for me my first interaction with an elemental, a bog spirit in Ireland. My sense of wonder had been every bit as profound as Granuaile’s. Her temperament, I reflected, was well suited to a Druid’s life. She remained giddy until it was time to part ways at a Mill Avenue ATM. I was going to go grab some lunch, and she was going to grab some gear at REI, with Oberon in tow, then rent a truck.

“You come back, sensei,” she said, poking me in the chest to make sure I was getting the message. “You can’t leave me dangling like this now that you’ve started. It would be like buying a kid an action figure and then telling him he can’t take it out of the package.” Her green eyes met mine and I found myself tongue-tied, even though I knew I was supposed to say something reassuring. A few awkward heartbeats passed, and then she gave up on waiting for me to speak. She grabbed my shirt front and pulled me toward her, delivering a quick buss on the cheek. Her scent lingered as she withdrew, a dark-wine-and-floral shampoo with a top note of strawberry lip gloss. She turned her back immediately and strode to her car, shoulders hunched up high as if she expected me to scold her for something. She opened the back door for Oberon to jump in and then circled around to the driver’s side, climbing into the car without looking at me.