Kevin Hearne: Hammered

“I got scratched pretty well here.”

“We will leave you to heal,” Flidais says. “You have passed the Baolach Cruatan . Congratulations. We look forward to the day when you are bound with the earth.”

“May harmony find you,” Brighid adds.

“And you,” I manage to reply before they wink out of sight, thanks to Flidais.

They probably will linger and observe me for a while, but I don’t care. I am more concerned about the mountain lion. It rises underneath my gaze, gives a parting hiss to Oberon, and jumps back into the river, leaving us alone with the dead javelina.

I give Oberon a hug around the neck. “You are a fabulous hound. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I know you wanted to help, but you couldn’t. You were under Flidais’s control once before, weren’t you?”

Oberon gives a small whine. I almost join in, because it occurs to me then to wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t passed the Baolach Cruatan .

Sonora interrupts my morbid thoughts with an observation that puts to rest what might have happened if I’d failed: //Druidchild lives / Joy / Relief//

//Yes / Regret / Cannot work now / Must fix suit first//

//Must fix leg / Sonora will heal//

That was excellent news, because I hadn’t been looking forward to pulling a Rambo and performing surgery on myself. //Gratitude / Harmony// I send.

//Harmony// Sonora replies.

Oberon is so sweet. He doesn’t leave my side now. He watches me try to sew up the gash in my wet suit with fishing line and hooks, which I’m sure must be about as exciting to him as watching grass grow. Or maybe he’s just waiting for me to stab myself. There will still be some flushing no matter what I do, but not, I hope, to the point where I’m in danger of succumbing to hypothermia. I feel nice and warm now, thanks to whatever Brighid did, but I suspect that once I get back in the river, I won’t be very warm again until we return to the rented truck.

I have killed hundreds of crawdads and felt nothing, but I still feel guilty about the javelina. He will haunt my dreams, I think.

A javelina is a collared peccary, which sounds like pecker, which sounds exactly like Beau Thatcher, my stepfather.

I do not normally wallow in symbolism, but perhaps I can save myself a trip to the therapist and indulge myself this once. In an odd way, perhaps the Baolach Cruatan has shown me how I can defeat him; if he stands against me, then the thing to do is act , not wait and hope he leaves.

When I chose to become a Druid, I picked up the rock. And when I am bound to the earth twelve years hence, I will be able to throw it in such a way that he loses everything, all to which he clings so tightly—except for his life. He will get to keep his life. No matter how much he squeals, there will be no mercy killing.

It takes two more days to finish clearing the river and return to the rental truck. Sonora is pleased with me, and I am pleased with myself, aside from the fact that I desperately need a hot bath and a whole cake of soap.

“You know what, Oberon? After four days of living on nothing but water and jerky, I think we deserve a steak. A tenderloin wrapped in bacon and maybe a side of bacon for dessert. What do you think?”

He barks enthusiastically, and his tail scythes the air; he clearly believes this to be a fantastic idea.

“And that episode with Brighid and Flidais? Should we tell Atticus about that when he gets back?”

Oberon’s ears droop, his tail goes still, and he barks twice for no.

“Yeah. I’m with you. Let’s keep that bit our secret.”